"A bas les perches!" roared Prevost, grasping the long tiller, although he would not be called on to steer so long as the polemen propelled it.
Each man brought the knob of the pole into the hollow of his shoulder and thrust the tip over the side until it found bottom. Then a St. Louis Creole started a song; the men ashore, and those on board not busily engaged, began discharging their guns. The two groups of polemen became two lines, one on each side of the boat.
Along each side of the boat extended the passe avant, or narrow runway, strongly cleated to afford a grip for the men's feet. Surging against their poles and treading on the cleats with every ounce of leg-strength the men began to force the boat from beneath their feet. To those ashore it looked as though they were walking down the runways.
As the boat began to respond to the pressure the polemen leaned so far forward as to seize the cleats with their free hands, presenting the grotesque spectacle of walking on all fours. Under such an impetus the boat conquered the muddy current, and as the driving force was equally divided held a straight course, the steersmen holding the tiller loosely.
