The boat was shaped somewhat like the popular representations of Noah's ark. It was probably ninety feet in length by thirty-eight feet in width, and was roofed. Bob recognized it at once as a ferry-boat of the style used at different points on the river, to convey passengers and teams across the river. It was a double-ender, like the much larger ferry-boats that are used on the East River, between New York and Brooklyn.

The creek on which the Burton ranch was located was really large enough for a river, and Bob concluded that this boat had been used at a point higher up.

"I wish I owned that boat, Clip," said Bob.

"What would you do with it, Massa Bob?"

"I'll tell you what I'd do, Clip; I'd go down to St. Louis on it."

"Will you take me with you, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, eagerly.

"I will, if I go, Clip."

"Golly, won't that be fine!" said the delighted Clip. "How long will you stay, Massa Bob?"

Clip supposed Bob intended a pleasure trip, for in his eyes pleasure was the chief end of living. But Bob was more practical and business-like. He had an idea which seemed to him a good one, though as yet he had mentioned it to no one.

"Get out the boat, Clip," he said, "and we'll go aboard. I want to see if the boat will be large enough for my purpose."

Clip laughed in amusement.

"You must think you'self mighty big, Massa Bob," he said, "if you think there isn't room on that boat for you an' me."

"It would certainly be large enough for two passengers like ourselves, Clip," answered Bob, smiling; "for that matter our rowboat is large enough for two boys, but if I go I shall carry a load with me."

Clip was still in the dark, but he was busying himself in unloosing the rowboat, according to Bob's bidding. The two boys jumped in, and a few strokes of the oars carried them to the ferry-boat. Fastening the flat-bottomed boat, the two boys clambered on deck.

Bob found the boat in good condition. It had occurred to him that it had been deserted as old and past service, and allowed to drift down the creek, but an examination showed that in this conjecture he was mistaken. It was sufficiently good to serve for years yet. This discovery was gratifying in one way, but in another it was a disappointment. As a boat of little value, Bob could have taken possession of it, fairly confident that no one would interfere with his claim, but in its present condition it was hardly likely to be without an owner, who would appear sooner or later and put in his claim to it.

"It seems to be a pretty good boat," said Bob.

"Dat's so, Massa Bob."

"It must have slipped its moorings and drifted down the creek during the night. I wish I knew who owned it."

"You an' me own it, Massa Bob. Finding is keeping."

"I am afraid it won't be so in the present case. Probably the owner will appear before long."

"Can't we get off down de river afore he comes, Massa Bob?"

"That wouldn't be honest, Clip."

Clip scratched his head in perplexity. He was not troubled with conscientious scruples, and was not as clear about the rights of property as his young patron. He was accustomed, however, to accept whatever Bob said as correct and final. In fact, he was content to let Bob do his thinking for him.

"What was you goin' to take down de ribber, Massa Bob?" he asked.

"I'll tell you what I was thinking of, Clip. You know we are gathering our crop of grain, and of course it must be sold. Now, traders ask a large commission for taking the wheat to market, and this would be a heavy tax. If I could load it on board this boat, and take it down myself, I should save all that, and I could sell it myself in St. Louis."

"Can I go, too?" asked Clip, anxiously.

"You shall go if I do," answered Bob.

"When will you know?" asked Clip, eagerly.

"When I find out whether I can use this boat. I had thought of building a raft, but that wouldn't do. No raft that I could build would carry our crop to St. Louis. This boat will be just the thing. I think it must have been used for that purpose before. See those large bins on each side. Each would contain from fifty to a hundred bushels of wheat. I only wish I knew the owner. Even if I couldn't buy the boat, I might make a bargain to hire it."

Bob had hardly finished his sentence when he heard a voice hailing him from the bank.

Going to the end of the boat, he looked towards the shore, and saw a tall angular figure, who seemed from his dress and appearance to be a Western Yankee. His figure was tall and angular, his face of the kind usually described as hatchet face, with a long thin nose, and his head was surmounted by a flapping sombrero, soft, broad-brimmed, and shapeless.

"Boat ahoy!" called the stranger.

"Did you wish to speak to us?" asked Bob, politely.

"I reckon I do," answered the stranger. "I want you to take me aboard that boat."

"Is the boat yours?" asked Bob.

"It doesn't belong to anybody else," was the reply.

"Untie the boat, Clip. We'll go back!" ordered Bob.

The two boys dropped into the rowboat, and soon touched the bank.

"If you will get in we'll row you over," said Bob. "When did you lose the boat?"

"It drifted down last night," answered the new acquaintance. "I've been usin' it as a ferry-boat about twenty miles up the creek. Last night I thought it was tied securely, but this morning it was gone."

"I don't see how it could have broken away."

"Like as not some mischievous boy cut the cable," was the answer. "Any way, here it is, and here am I, Ichabod Slocum, the owner."

"Then the boat and its owner are once more united."

"Yes, but that don't take the boat back to where it belongs. It's drifted down here, easy enough; mebbe one of you boys will tell me how it's goin' to drift back."

"There may be some difficulty about that," answered Bob with a smile. "How long have you owned the boat?"

"About two years. I've been usin' her as a ferry-boat between Transfer City and Romeo, and I've made a pretty fair livin' at it."

Bob was familiar with the names of these towns, though he had never been so far up the creek.

"I'm afraid you'll have trouble in getting the boat back," he said. "It will make quite an interruption in your business."

"I don't know as I keer so much about that," said Ichabod Slocum, thoughtfully. "I've been thinkin' for some time about packin' up and goin' farther west. I've got a cousin in Oregon, and I reckon I might like to go out there for a year or two."

"Then, perhaps you might like to dispose of the boat, Mr. Slocum," said Bob, eagerly.

"Well, I might," said Ichabod Slocum, cautiously. "Do you know of anybody around here that wants a boat?"

"I might like it myself," was Bob's reply.

"What on airth does a boy like you want of a ferry-boat?" asked Slocum, in surprise.

"I have a plan in my head," said Bob; "and think it would be useful to me."

"There ain't no call for a ferry-boat here," said Ichabod.

"No; you are right there. I may as well tell you what I am thinking of. Our crop of grain is ready to harvest, and I should like to load it on this boat and carry it down to St. Louis and sell it there myself."