ot to leave that neighborhood even if I found it hard to find the
Rucker family; and assuring me that if it weren't for the fact that he
had several families along the canal ready to move in a week or two, he
would go back with me and place himself at my service.

"And it won't be long," said he, "until I can be with you. My boy, I
feel like a father to the young men locating among us, and I beg of you
don't make any permanent arrangements until I get back. I can save you
money, and start you on the way to a life of wealth and happiness. God
bless you, and give you a safe voyage!"

"Bill," said I, as we went down the stairs, "this is the best news I
ever had. I'm going to find my mother! I had given up ever finding her,
Bill; and I've been so lonesome--you don't know how lonesome I've been!"

"I used to have a mother," said Bill, "in London. Next time I'm there
I'll stay sober for a day and have a look about for her. You never have
but about one mother, do you, Jake? A mother is a great thing--when she
ain't in drink."

"I wish I could have Mr. Wisner with me when I get to Southport," I
said. "He'd help me. He is such a Christian man!"

"Wal," said Bill, "I ain't as sure about him as I am about mothers. He
minds me of a skipper I served under once; and he starved us, and let
the second officer haze us till we deserted and lost our wages. He's
about twice too slick. I'd give him the go-by, Jake."

"And now for a boat," I said.

"Wal," said Bill, "I'm sailin' to-morrow mornin' on the schooner _Mahala
Peters_, an' we're short-handed. Go aboard an' ship as an A. B."

I protested that I wasn't a sailor; but Bill insisted that beyond being
hazed by the mate there was no reason why I shouldn't work my passage.

"If there's a crime," said he, "it's a feller like you payin' his
passage. Let's get a drink or two an' go aboard."

I explained to the captain, in order that I might be honest with him,
that I was no sailor, but had worked on canal boats for years, and would
do my best. He swore at his luck in having to ship land-lubbers, but
took me on; and before we reached Southport--now Kenosha--I was good
enough so that he wanted me to ship back with him. It was on this trip
that I let the cook tattoo this anchor on my forearm, and thus got the
reputation among the people of the prairies of having been a sailor,
and therefore a pretty rough character. As a matter of fact the sailors
on the Lakes were no rougher than the