Raymond S. Spears

“ That Torkly kid’s got black eyes, yellow cheeks, and a yell like a parrot. Driftwood’s worth two-three o’ that kind."
He eased his shanty-boat out into the current. The wind had blown the flotsam off the channel, and there was hardly any drift in midstream. Standing at his sweeps, Jep looked into the darkness down the river. He glanced up at the reflection of New Madrid’s lights on the sky. Then he laughed aloud.
"When them women see the baby the marshal requisitioned! I wish I could be there to hear ’em! Laws! lawsy! If I can find Sib and Jimmy, they’ll sure holler. Hey, Driftwood!" ”

“ Driftwood cried out, reaching toward the shore. "Da-da-da!"
It was a victrola, and Jep’s breath caught as he realized the significance of the baby’s desire to get ashore. He thought of running in there, but he knew that New Madrid would send word there to intercept him and capture the baby.
"If they was only his own folks!" Jep exclaimed. "But he ain’t from there! He’s from up in Illinois somewhere. Those buggy wheels were run on stone pavements, the way they’re worn. Dirt roads and wood walks don’t wear a buggy the way stone does." ”

“ Jep shook his head. "We found him, Sib, Jimmy, and me did, trippin’ down the Mississippi in his own ark. It was a wooden baby-buggy. So, ’course, we took him in with us."
"Just boys," the woman gasped, "taking care of this beautiful baby!"
"He ain’t the first one I’ve took care of," Jep replied, tartly. "I’ve helped raise lots of kids."
"Do you live in New Madrid?"
"No; I’m from Meramec River."
"Oh, a shanty-boater!"
"No, ma’am," Jep replied blandly: "We live in a cabin-boat." ”