counting the recovered old pieces as he dropped them one by one into his pocket.
"Dat's de way to do business. Now git a move on you, Side, an' tote Cunnel's boxes to de steam boat. No, suh, Cunnel, us don't need no help."
The gunboat Nasir turned her prow to the North. Colonel Beverly Spottiswoode and Zack Foster Effendi, with radiant faces, stood on the forward deck, their helmets lifted in courteous farewell. Every voice on bank shouted a separate good-by—all save one, a lean and lone and silent Dongalawi who stood apart with folded arms in front of the Hot Cat Eating House.
"Why, Zack, yonder is Said. Isn't he going with us?"
"Naw suh, I done fired Said. Dat nigger kep' me so pestered I give him de catfish stan' to make him stay here."
"That's not your property; it belongs to the company."
"Yas suh, I jes' 'lowed I'd leave dat 'twixt Side an' Mister Bim."
The sun shone, the palms waved, the river bore them onward to Khartum. Pleasant were the days of sea and sky, and merry the rattle of rushing wheels, until Zack heard the A. V. Railroad porter call, "Vicksburg! All out for Vicksburg!"
