"I'll pack up," Delia said, and Murdong retreated to the Mahna boat, leaving the two women to do the moving.
Murdong was elated with his bargain. Travelling in the open skiff was not exactly tiresome, but the boat was too small for comfort when it rained and he lacked room to turn around in. He could hardly stand up, to say nothing of taking a step.
Mrs. Mahna returned after a time, and began to flax around getting supper. She had squirrels and ducks to roast, but everything was all ready to put into the oven, and shortly the odour of a game dinner filled the boat. Mahna and the youth were up the bank chopping up an ash sapling which they had discovered in a drift pile, and which was the best kind of firewood when one didn't want a coal fire's staying qualities.
Delia returned to the Mahna boat, and picked up the thread of conversation of Mrs. Mahna, who was telling Murdong about the river down below.
"Yes, suh!" she declared, "you trip down onct an' you hate the riveh, like's not. You get to go away, but bye and bye you feel hit a-drawin' you ag'in. You keep a-droppin' down, an' a-droppin' down—as you dream. Old Mississip' don't take hold cruel, but hit hangs on soft and strong. You'll quit Old Mississip' against your heart, yassuh."
