The evening times. [volume] (Grand Forks, N.D.) 1906-1914, 1906-08-24

not moment too soon, for at his
back stood burly negro just i'm the
act of lifting corn knife. With that
presence of mind that comes from
long years of training, the pilot
shouted:
"My God! there're after us! Run
for your life!"
With howl of terror the would be
assassin dropped his crude weapon
and plunge dheadlong down the mar
row stairs, landing in a frightened
heap on the hurricane deck. An Off
Ger. rushing out of his apartment in
the texas, seized him and asked what
he meant by raising such a disturb
ance.
"Lemme go, for de Lawd's sake!
Dey's after me! Doan' you see de
niggah reg'mint a-cominng over de
Water?" And sure enough, there in
the ravine were the ghosts of the mas
sacred negroes executing their lantern
dance.
. A little crOss-eXaminatiOn revealed
the fact that the roustabout had been
hired to murder the pilot and wreck
the boat on the rocks of Fort Pillow,
and 1t was due to his superstition that
passengers and cargo reached st.
Louis is safety.
There is one story the old rivermen
tell that has in 1t an element of mys-
ticism that is pathetically beautiful.
The heroes are Will Cribbin and Sam
Bowen, intimate friends of Mark
Twain in the days. when he was "a
!earnin' the river" Those of us who
have followed the wokr of the Missis-
sippi River commission know of the
sluggish old rivers tendency to Inn
port farm from the banks of the Mis-
souri,, carry it down stream a few
miles and then dump it into the first
convenient deep water pool. A dam
having been thus formed, more sand
is piled around it until a towhead is
constructed. Soon crop of, willows
springs up, and the towhead is trans
FORMED into an island. In due time
the island is named or numbered and
placed on the map. Then the chances
are the river will decide it didn't
really want an island there after all.
and out goes the island, to be deposit-
ed farther down stream.
An oasis in the yellow water. with
sach history as this, was Island No.
%. One night a vessel stopped here.
where no freight had ever before been
landed, and rude wooden box was
carried up the gangplank. In that
box was the body of Will Cribbin, the
Junior pilot Quarantine was not
maintained so strictly in those DAYS
as 1t Is now, and this boat had carried
the yellow pest from New Orleans. a
part OF her cargo that was not listed.
Many OF the negroes had died and had
been thrown overheard; but the pilot
must have better treatment. The Of
ncers who were not already i'll assist
ed at the simple obsequies, but one of
them stood of and protested. Between
sops ne demonstrated with those who
were digging the grave. "He said he
wanted to be buried in the river, Don't
you think you ought to respect a dy-
ing mans last wish?" Then he added.
III | die on the way l want YOU to
promise not to bury me- I'll stick to
the river as long as live, and when
am dead ] want 1t for my grave"
AT Jackson Point the steamer land
ed again, and, despite his recent Dro-
test. Sam Brown was buried in the,
sand. Before the willows had grown
over the two sunken graves a reef was
deposited above the current directed
against these two islands. In less than
two years Will Cribbin and Sam
Bowen had found the desired resting
place In the bosom of the river.