tell people to go to hell?'"

It is the lamentable fact, and I must face it, and so must you if you
intend to read on, that the language of the river was rough. At least
ninety-nine out of every hundred river stories are, therefore, not
printable in full. Either they must be vitiated by deletions, or
interpreted at certain points by blanks and "blanketys." As for me, I
prefer the blankety-blanks and I consider that this method of avoiding
the complete truth relieves me of all responsibility. And of course, if
that is so, it absolves, at the same time, good Captain "Billy" Jones,
or any one else who may have happened to tell me the stories.

Both Leathers and Cannon were large, powerful men, and they always hated
each other. Leathers was never popular, for he was very arrogant, but he
had a great reputation for pushing the _Natchez_ through on time. Also,
such friends as he did have always stuck by him.

Something of the feeling between the two old river characters is
revealed in the following story related by Captain Jones:

"Ed Snodgrass, who lived in St. Joseph, La., was a friend of both Cannon
and Leathers. When the _Natchez_ would arrive at St. Joseph, he would go
and give Leathers news about Cannon, and when the _Lee_ came in he would
see Cannon and tell him about Leathers.

"Well, one time Leathers was laid up with a carbuncle on his back, and
brought a doctor up on the boat with him. So, of course, Ed Snodgrass
told Cannon about it when he came along.

"'A carbuncle, eh?' said Cannon.

"'Yes,' said Ed.

"'Well,' said Cannon, 'you tell the old blankety-blank-blank that I had
a brother--a bigger, stronger man than I am--and he had one o' them
things and died in two weeks.'

"Soon after that Cannon made a misstep when backing the _Natchez_ out,
at Natchez, and fell, breaking his collar bone. Of course Ed Snodgrass
gave the news to Leathers when he came along.

"'Huh!' said Leathers. 'His collar bone, eh? You tell the old
blankety-blank-blank that I wish it had been his blankety-blank neck!'"

I asked Captain Jones for stories about gambling.

"After the war," he said, "there weren't the big poker games there used
to be. Mostly we had sucker games then. There was a gambler named George
Duval who wrote a book--or, rather, he had somebody write it for him,
for he was a very ignorant fellow, and began his life calking the seams
of boats in a shipyard. He had a partner who was known as 'Jew Mose,'
who use