oy, quick at inventive nomenclature, and fresh
from a reading of Robert Louis Stevenson, called our visitor "the
Dynamiter," and by that title I suppose we shall always remember him.

The Dynamiter confided to his listeners that he was going down the
river for "a clean hundred miles, and that's right smart fur, ain't
it? How fur down be yees goin'?" The Doctor replied that we were going
nine hundred; whereat the man of explosives gave vent to his feelings
in a prolonged whistle, then a horse laugh, and "Oh come, now! Don'
be givin' us taffy! Say, hones' Injun, how fur down air yew fellers
goin', anyhow?" It was with some difficulty that he could comprehend
the fact. A hundred miles on the river was a great outing for this
village lad; nine hundred was rather beyond his comprehension,
although he finally compromised by "allowing" that we might be going
as far as Cincinnati. Wouldn't the Doctor go into partnership with
him? He had no caps for his cartridges, and if the Doctor would buy
caps and "stan' in with him on the cost of the glyser_een_," they
would, regardless of Ohio statutes, blow up the fish in unfrequented
portions of the river, and make two hundred dollars apiece by carrying
the spoils in to Wheeling. The Doctor, as a law-abiding citizen,
good-naturedly declined; and upon my return to the flat, the Dynamiter
was handing the Boy a huge stick of barber-pole candy, saying, "Well,
yew fellers, we'll part friends, anyhow--but sorry yew won't go in on
this spec'; there's right smart money in 't, 'n' don' yer fergit it!"

By the middle of the afternoon we reached the boundary line (40 miles)
between Pennsylvania on the east and Ohio and West Virginia on the
west. The last Pennsylvania settlements are a half mile above the
boundary--Smith's Ferry (right), an old and somewhat decayed village,
on a broad, low bottom at the mouth of the picturesque Little Beaver
Creek;[A] and Georgetown (left), a prosperous-looking, sedate town,
with tidy lawns running down to the edge of the terrace, below which
is a shelving stone beach of generous width. Two high iron towers
supporting the cable of a current ferry add dignity to the twin
settlements. A stone monument, six feet high, just observable through
the willows on the right shore, marks the boundary; while upon the
left bank, surmounting a high, rock-strewn beach, is the dilapidated
frame house of a West Virginia "cracker," through whose garden-patch
the line takes its way, u