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roustabout on the levee, then worked as a deckhand, and years later got his license. That’s what Paul wants most in all the world. Come to think of it, I may want to be a river pilot myself one of these days, instead of a farmer.” Mart sighed blissfully. “All this commotion! All this excitement!”
    “All that hard work!” Brian added. “You can hear those men groan, even above the noise of the diesel engines. It takes muscle and sweat to clamp steel cables to timberheads and lock the barges together. Look at them turning those ratchets. Boy! They have to chain them so close you can’t get a dime in the crevices.”
    “That’s so they won’t break loose. They leave a cable they call a ‘stern line’ running from each side of the after barges back to the boat,” Mart said learnedly. “It holds the barges in line; it keeps them from spreading out like a fan when they have to back up.”
    “Heavens, Mart, did you learn all that from Paul?”
    “Partly. That kid knows everything there is to know about the river, Trix. I asked some other men, too, while we were waiting on the levee. The only way you can find out anything is to ask.”
    “I thought Trixie was our official interviewer,” Jim said.
    “I just pick other people’s brains and take credit for being smart,” Trixie said. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without any one of the Bob-Whites to help me out.”
    Mart put his hand on his hip and spun around with dancing steps.

    “Oh, I am the cook and the captain bold
    An’ the mate of the Nancy brig,
    An’ a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite,
    An’ the crew of the captain’s gig.”

    The other Bob-Whites joined Mart in a sailor’s hornpipe. The maid rested her dust mop and stood openmouthed. Down below, on the gunwales, the hands, sweating and straining, heard the singing and looked up, grinning. The beat of the powerful twin-screw diesel engines seemed to accent the rhythm.
    “Cheese it!” Mart shouted suddenly. “Here comes Captain Martin. He’ll think we’ve lost our marbles. The boat must be about to take off. Paul and the other hands down there are standing ready to hitch the tow to the front of the Catfish Princess. Golly, look at the acres of barges up ahead!”
    The captain waved to the Bob-Whites, then went up a few steps into the pilothouse. There he talked with the pilot on duty and took his seat at the controls. Accurately, slowly, he eased the big boat till its snub nose touched the rear of the long chain of barges, hardly jarring them. Then, as the nose of the towboat closed against the barges, deckhands fastened tow and boat together with huge chains and steel cables. The Bob-Whites watched, fascinated, as the struggling, sweating men worked.
    “Boy, it’d take an earthquake to jar that tow loose,” Jim said, his eyes following every move the men made.
    “Yeah!” Brian agreed, awed. “Say, that guy down there is signaling. It looks like we’re ready to move!”
    A whistle snarled. The big towboat shivered, as though with relief. The engines accelerated, and the gleaming Catfish Princess swung her tow into midstream and headed south.
    “It’s heavenly! We’re floating!” Trixie said blissfully. “Do you suppose we’ll stay this close to shore all the time?” She held Honey’s hand and watched, eyes wide and dancing. “I can even see a dog running along that bank.”
    Two sharp blasts of the whistle sounded.
    “I can see your lips moving, Trix,” Mart shouted, “but I can’t hear a word you’re saying. That’s the chow whistle. I’m starved. Let’s get under cover. Dibs on the first place at table!”

    In the dining room, Captain Martin pointed out seats the Bob-Whites should take, drew back Trixie’s chair, and motioned the maid to start serving.
    “We can’t stand on ceremony,” he announced. “We only have half an hour to eat. We’re past the first watch now... over an hour. I usually take over from twelve to six P.M., then from midnight to