Raymond S. Spears

“ Boxes and barrels, sections of fences squeezed upright into the drift, even a telegraph-pole, still erect, with wires dangling,—went by without causing comment. In a gray gust of rain the watchers saw a shanty-boat drifting down, turning around and around.
"Them shanty-boaters don’t care what they do, or where they go!" ”

“ Every one knows Sib can take care of himself if any one is able to!"
"And he’s been wanting to go alone, too!" she recalled, with just a touch of asperity. "I hope he’s satisfied."
"Lots to eat, a good little boat that rows like a skiff, a brave heart—And he knows—Why, that boy has read River Commission reports clear through, and he’s always talking to shanty-boaters, asking them about the river and how to do things. I wish he had a skiff, though—in case—in case—"
"The drift should break the hull in, and sink it!" she cried. "If we could only do something! What can we do?" ”

“ The report told of the failure of men to cope successfully with the Big Muddy. The river maps, on a scale of an inch-to-the-mile, showed the twists and bends of the river, the islands and reaches.
Besides river reports, Sibley had read histories and stories, trappers’ magazines, biographies, grammars, and what not, when he must sit in the little cabin of the shanty-boat floating in a still sheltered eddy, with the rain pattering on the canvas-covering of the thin board roof. ”