"I never cared about whiskers myself," Jesse remarked. "Take it in the summer and they itch, and in winter they hangs wet in the drizzle and rain. That's why I takes the trouble to shave."
Murdong accepted the proffer of the razor, and not for days did he think of that incident again. When he did, however, it struck him at first as funny, then as interesting, and finally as a milestone in a new career.
Right there Murdong ceased to be a soft-paw in spirit and became a river man in fact.
"Going clear down?" Jesse asked.
"Yes, I guess so," Murdong answered. "I started up at Davenport in October. I pulled right along"
"You must have! But it's getting kind of late up there. Frosts, and those fall storms! They're bad," Jesse put in words what Murdong knew he ought to say himself.
"But I'm taking it easy now"
"You got six weeks of nice weather to Mendova; then you'll have Arkansaw Old Mouth, and Down Below," Jesse nodded. "It's nice to trip down slow. Sleep in that skiff or'd you go up the bank in a tent?"
"In the bottom of the skiff. That canvas is just a hoop up over the skiff. I got blankets and an air mattress."
"That's a nice way to trip down; but down below,
