Finally, faint for want of food, exhausted, and disheartened, the poor boy threw himself in the bottom of the skiff and yielded to his despair.

At length he fell asleep.
So the dawn of Winn's second day on the river caught him napping, as the first had done.

In its gray light the skiff drifted past the little city of Dubuque, perched high on the bluffs of the western bank, but no one saw it.

There were several steamboats and trading scows tied to the narrow levee, but their crews were still buried in slumber.
Even had they been awake they would hardly have noticed the little craft far out in the stream, drifting with the hurrying waters.

In a few minutes it was gone, and the sleeping city was none the wiser for its passing.