from a battle
with a man, even though he might be a coward as I was sure Rucker was.

This proposed visit became the greatest thing in my life, a great
adventure, as we glided back from Buffalo, past the locks at Lockport,
where there was much fighting; past lock after lock, where the
lock-tenders tried to sell magic oils, balsams and liniments for man and
beast and once in a while did so; and to whom Ace became a customer for
hair-oil; after using which he sought the attention of girls by the
canal side, and also those who might be passengers on our boat, or
members of the emigrant families which crowded the boats going west;
past the hill at Palmyra, from which Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet,
claimed to have dug the gold plates of the Book of Mormon; past the
Fairport level and embankment; for three days floating so untroubled
along the Rochester level without a single lock; through the Montezuma
Marsh again; and then in a short time would come Tempe, and maybe my
great meeting with Rucker, my longed-for visit to my mother. And then
Captain Sproule got a contract for a cargo of salt to Buffalo, and we
turned westward again! It would be late in the fall before we returned;
but I should have more money then, and should be stronger and a
better fighter.

Canal-boating was fast becoming a routine thing with me; and I must
leave out all my adventures on that voyage to Buffalo, and back to
Tempe. I do not remember them very clearly anyhow.

One thing happened which I must describe, because it is important. We
were somewhere west of Jordan, when we met a packet boat going west. It
was filled with passengers, and drew near to us with the sound of
singing and musical instruments. It was crowded with emigrants always
hopeful and merry, bound westward. Evidently the hold had not been able
to take in all the household goods of the passengers, for there was a
deck-load of these things, covered with tarpaulins.

I was sitting on the deck of our boat, wondering when I should join the
western movement. When I got old enough, and had money enough, I was
determined to go west and seek my fortune; for I always felt that
canalling was, somehow, beneath what I wanted to do and become. The
packet swept past us, giving me a good deal the same glimpse into a
different sort of life that a deckhand on a freighter has when he gazes
at a liner ablaze with lights and echoing with music.

On the deck of the packet sat a group of people who