He seized the roots of a drifting tree, knowing it would keep in the channel, mounted it and sat there for hours floating with the current.

All night the mocking birds along shore serenaded him.

He would have remained on the tree until morning; but he heard the whistles of steamers below.

Knowing that a fleet left New Orleans every Saturday afternoon bound north, and that each would be trying to gain the lead on the other, he was afraid he would be run down, so he slid off the tree and made for shore.

That course was not without its danger, also; for mingled with the beautiful songs of the mocking bird, he had heard the hoarse bark of alligators and there was no telling but that he might run right on to some of them.