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Updated: June 4, 2025
They felt that it would vitally affect Mendova. They whispered among themselves as to what it meant. They learned that a policeman had been stationed in front of the notorious resort and that that policeman had done the shooting during a fight with waiters and bouncers and with Palura himself. "We hadn't better get to go up town," Jet whimpered. "Hit don't sound right!"
He brought the two boats quietly together and lashed them fast with rope fenders to prevent rubbing and bumping did it with surprising skill. The Mississippi carried them down the reach into the crossing, and around a bend out of sight of even the glow of the Mendova lights.
"We 'lowed we'd stop into Mendova. You stop in there an' see Palura; he'll treat you right. He was in the riveh hisse'f once. You talk to him " "What did Terabon and Mr. Carline go on in? What kind of a boat?" "A gasolene cruiser." "Did he say where he'd be?" "Terabon? No. Ask into Mendova or into Memphis. They can likely tell." "Thank you, boys!
He could not turn a page or a chapter without finding something that gave him a different outlook or a novel idea. They landed in late on Monday at Mendova bar, just above the wharf. Up the slough were many shanty-boats, and gaunt dogs and floppy buzzards fed along the bar and down the wharf.
He was down the river somewhere, and when she landed in at Mendova in the late twilight she saw his skiff swinging from the stern of a motorboat. Having made fast near it, she quickly learned that he had gone up town, and that someone had heard him say that he was going to Palura's. Palura's! Nelia had heard the fascination of that den's ill-fame.
Whatever pity he might feel, he could not help but perceive that there was no use trying to help fools. It was just dusk when they ran into Mendova. The city lights sparkled as they turned in the eddy and ran up to the shanty-boat town. They dropped an anchor into the deep water and held the boat off the bank by the stern while they ran a line up to a six-inch willow to keep the bow to the bank.
This would teach the policemen of Mendova to mind their own business! Suddenly Policeman Laddam threw his night stick backhanded at the infamous scoundrel, and Palura dodged, but not quite quickly nor quite far enough. The club whacked noisily against his right elbow and Palura uttered a cry of pain as one pistol fell to the floor.
Jet asked, without delicacy. Her cheeks flamed. "Yes!" she whispered. "Terabon took him down to Mendova or Memphis," Despard said. "Carline was was on the cabin and the boat lurched when the steamboat passing drawed. He drapped over and hit a spark plug on the head!" "Was he badly hurt?" "Not much kind of a lump, that's all." She looked down at Fort Pillow Bluff.
The life of Mendova was stirring to blaring music. The big hall was bare, rough, and gaunt. Dusty flags and cobwebs dangled from the rafters and hog-chain braces. A few hard, white lights cast a blinding glare straight down on the heads of the dancers and drinkers and onlookers.
Caope's and another boat dropped off the river to visit friends, and mid-afternoon found Parson Rasba and Prebol alone again, drawing down toward Mendova. Prebol knew that town, and he told Rasba about it. He promised that they would see something of it, but they could not make it that evening, so they landed in Sandbar Reach for the night.
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