there. More than this, the Islander shall land you twelve miles nearer
New York than Pittsburg."

"Then I will go with you," replied the colonel.

"But it will take much longer to go by my way," I added.

"Will it take more than three weeks longer, Captain Alick?" asked the
owner of our consort.

"You shall be in New York in half that time, if you wish."

"I suppose it is no use for me to ask what this marvellous route is to
be!" queried the colonel.

"Not the least," I replied, decidedly. "No one has said a word as to
where we were going for the last month, or since we decided to go up
the river. Nobody seemed to care."

"We all took it for granted that the steamers were to return by the way
they came," said Colonel Shepard. "I was talking with your father about
the matter one day, more than a week ago; and he had the same view of
the subject I had."

"We will sail at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, if you please."

"Certainly if that is the pleasure of the commander of the fleet,"
answered Colonel Shepard.

I had kept my own counsel so far, and I thought I had better continue
to do so for a while longer. Washburn and I had settled the question,
even before we left Detroit, and had procured all the information
necessary to carry out our plan, for the mate first suggested it. We
had taken in coal sufficient to run the steamer about two days. With
this supply, we drew a little less than eight feet of water, just
enough to sink the propeller.

Before night I engaged two pilots, one for each steamer, for I was not
sure we could lash boats much longer. At the time appointed all our
passengers were on board, and we backed out from the levee. It was so
much more social to lash boats, that we did so at the request of the
ladies. Recent heavy rains all over the western states had again raised
the river several feet above the level it was when we arrived at St.
Louis.

"Won't you explain the great mystery to me, Captain Alick?" asked Miss
Margie, as I passed her, seated on the quarter-deck, reading a novel.

"What great mystery?" I inquired, taking a chair by her side.

"Why, the mystery of where we are going," she replied, with a
bewitching laugh. "All the passengers are trying to solve the riddle;
and no one has done it yet."

"What book are you reading, Miss Margie?" I asked.

"Little Dorrit. What has that to do with it?" said she, looking at me
with surprise.

"Perhaps nothing; but before I explain to