d little to my
personal appearance, and by the time we were called to knock off for
the noon meal, I was thoroughly tired, and disgusted, feeling as much a
roustabout as I certainly looked.

The meal was served on an unplaned plank, the ends resting on kegs in
front of the boilers. The unwashed gang simply helped themselves, and
then retired to any convenient spot where they chose to eat. I
discovered a fairly comfortable seat on a cracker box, and was still
busily munching away on the coarse, poorly-cooked food, when Mapes,
prowling about, chanced to spy me among the shadows.

"Hullo; is that you, Steve?" he asked, gruffly. "Well, when yer git
done eatin' I got another job fer yer on deck. Yer hear me?"

I signified that I did, and indeed was even then quite ready to go, my
heart throbbing at this opportunity to survey other sections of the
boat. I followed him eagerly up the ladder, and ten minutes later was
busily employed with scrubbing brush, and a bucket of water, in an
endeavor to improve the outward appearance of the paint of the upper
deck. Nothing occurred about me for some time, the passengers being at
dinner in the main cabin. I could hear the rattle of dishes, together
with a murmur of conversation, and even found a partially opened
skylight through which I could look down, and distinguish a small
section of the table. Kirby was not within range of my vision, but
there were several officers in fatigue uniforms, none of their faces
familiar, together with one or two men in civilian dress, I judged
there were no women present, as I saw none, or heard any sound of a
feminine voice. The principal topic of conversation appeared to be in
connection with the war, and was largely monopolized by a red-faced
captain, who had once been a visitor in Black Hawk's camp, and who
loudly asserted that the gathering volunteers would prove utterly
useless in such a campaign, which must eventually be won by the
superiority of regular troops. A hot-headed civilian opposite him at
the table argued otherwise, claiming that the militia was largely
composed of old Indian fighters, who would give a good account of
themselves. The discussion became noisy, and apparently endless,
interesting me not at all. Once I detected Kirby's voice chime in
mockingly, but altogether the talk brought me no information, and
possessed little point.

I had moved away, and was engaged busily scraping at the dingy paint of
the pilot hou