Excerpt: "The towering stacks of the steamboat “Mediterranean” sent their clouds of smoke, black and wind rent, across the sky; her sharp bow cut the yellow waters of the Mississippi and dashed the spray as high as her rails. The cabins were thronged with passengers; the forward deck was tiered high with bales and barrels and boxes of merchandise. Two boys sat by the rail upon the upper deck; their faces were earnest and they talked in low tones. “Are you quite sure that Sam Davidge is on board, Walt?” asked one. “I’d know him among a whole city-full, let alone a cabin-full,” answered Walter Jordan. “And I’ve seen him three times to-day.” The other boy frowned and looked out over the wide river toward the Arkansas shore. “It’s queer,” said he. “It’s very queer that he should just happen to be going down the river at the same time we are.” Walter Jordan gave his friend a quick look. “Ned,” said he, “chance has nothing to do with it—as I think you know.” Ned Chandler nodded. “He’s on board because we are; he’s trying to find out where we are going.” The boy ran his fingers through his short light hair, and his blue eyes snapped. “I never did think much of Davidge; and I think less of him now than I did before.”"
