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Show RIVER "Thaf s what they call it in California, too," said Julia. The second cop spoke for the first time. "Y'know, Bud, I used to live out in California and I think it's legal out there. At least everybody sure did it a hell of a lot." "You're not kidding about this raft business?" asked the first cop. "No sir," said Vince. "Listen, is anybody down on that raft fornicating?" "Oh yeah," said Vince. The second cop persuaded his pal to give up. This was obviously too big. As they walked back to their car one of them yelled back, "Boy, sometimes you really make it hard on us." Early the next morning a photographer from the Des Moines Register woke us up and got quite a picture. It was drizzling and we looked about half drowned. The rain stopped not long after dawn and Rosie and I went over to the marina to thank Adams for all he'd done for us. He took me aside and talked to me seriously about the river. "I used to have no respect whatever for the river," he said. "When I was young I once ran a thirty-five footer onto a stump, holed her, and she started to sink. I ran her onto a sandbar and went to sleep. I wouldn't do it again: I've seen too much of the river's moods to ever trust her that far again. In '65 the river flooded, there was water where we're standing right now, ten feet of water." He paused for a moment and we both looked out to where the Mississippi flowed behind a screen of trees. "The lower river is even worse. I'm really worried about what you're going to run into below Cairo. Around Memphis there are whirlpools that I've seen toss a forty-footer around like it was a child's toy. There -63- |