They started the next day at the appointed time. Henry, Paul, and Long Jim
were In one of the leading boats, and Tom Ross and Shif'less Sol were in
another near them. The population of New Orleans was on the levee to see
them go, and some wished them good luck and many wished them bad. The
majority of the French were for them, and the majority of the Spanish
against them.

But the five, now that the time was at hand, felt only elation. The breeze
blew strong and fresh over the mighty river that came from their
beloved-forests and vast unknown regions beyond. They seemed to feel in it
some of the tang and sparkle of the north.

"Good-bye, New Orleans," said Jim Hart, waving a long hand on a long arm;
"I'm glad I've seed you, I'm glad I've laid my weary head to rest inside
your walls fur a few nights, but I'm glad I don't stay in you, nor in any
other town. Good-bye."

One of the brass cannon fired a salute, cannon on the fort and the
galleon, Doña Isabel, replied. Adam Colfax gave the word, and at the same
instant hundreds of oars and paddles dipped into the muddy current of the
Mississippi. The great supply fleet leaped forward as if it were one
whole, and soon New Orleans and its intrigues sank under the curve behind
them.

Henry and Paul, although they did not have to work, pulled at the oars
with the others, and more than one man noticed how the mighty muscles of
Henry Ware's arm swelled and bunched as he made the boat leap forward. But
they did not maintain their high rate of speed long. As the rivers ran it
was a good two thousand miles to Fort Pitt, and they did not wish to
exhaust themselves on the first twenty. Long Jim at last let his oar rest