The Mystery on the Mississippi

with sarcasm.
    “That didn’t have to be Lontard’s fault. Even the manager thought it was some crazy kid who monkeyed with the drain.”
    “You believe what you want to believe, Mart, and I’ll believe what I want... and I have absolute faith in the federal investigators.”
    “Why not? You’re going to be a policeman yourself someday. Aren’t law enforcement officers usually supportive of one another?”
    “You’re right about that,” Jim said. “Why don’t we forget the whole business for today? Dad and Mr. Brandio, and the agents, too, were glad we were going to be away from the airport area for a day.”
    “Yeah, and we’d better get back in time to see some of that exhibit the airplane factories are getting ready for the big brass from Washington,” Mart said. “If we have to leave tomorrow, I’d like at least to get a squint at a space capsule. What do you think they’ll say at school if we tell them—”
    Brian laughed out loud. “That’s the argument you use about everything.”
    “It’s how I get to see almost everything. Anyway, we should be able to get around a bit in Hannibal—see most everything we want to see—and still take in the exhibit tonight.”
    “That’s the old spirit, Mart,” Jim said. “Let the authorities handle Lontard and the rest of that business. Let’s forget it. How about it, Trixie?”
    “I don’t want to let them handle it all by themselves. That’s no way for our agency to act, is it, Honey? Honey and I are the only ones, as far as I know, who’ve really seen Lontard. I doubt if the authorities can handle it without us.”
    “They’re going to have to, sis,” Mart said. “We’re out of communication today, I hope. Then tomorrow we fly back to New York.”
    “I don’t care. I don’t like it, that’s all.”
    “How about forgetting it for today, at least?” Jim asked good-naturedly. “Is it a deal?”
    “I’ll try,” Trixie said grudgingly. “We’re sure making time on this wide highway, aren’t we?”
    “Uh-huh. We’re already more than halfway there,” Jim replied. “Is anyone hungry?”
    “I am!” Mart shouted.
    “That’s chronic,” his brother remarked.
    “But even if I am, I’d like to wait till we get to Hannibal,” Mart went on. “There’s a cafe in the Becky Thatcher house. It said so in the article we read about Tom Sawyer’s hometown. It was in the National Geographic , remember? I’d like to eat there. I’ll bet they serve the same things they ate in Hannibal in Tom Sawyer’s day.”
    “Like the bats Injun Joe ate in the cave?” Brian asked.
    “How do you know a bat wouldn’t taste good?”
    “Ugh, I hope I never find out,” Trixie said, shivering. “It’ll be fun, though, to eat in Becky Thatcher’s house. Part of it is a library, I think. Hundreds of thousands of people must visit Hannibal every year, and all because of Mark Twain’s stories.”
    Mart grunted. “What I’d like to do would be to see some of the things tourists don’t get to see.”
    “We won’t have time to hunt out anything that isn’t on a regular tour,” Jim told him. “Just be grateful you’ll have a chance to see any of it.”
    “That’s Sunny Jim talking,” Mart said sourly. “And it makes a lot of sense,” Brian told him. “You can’t cover the whole waterfront in a couple of hours. Didn’t that last road sign say we’re pretty near Hannibal, Jim?”
    “We should be there in about twenty minutes if the going’s as good as it has been.” Jim took a right turn on a small country road. “This one will take us right along the river. Gosh, the Mississippi is wide out there. It looks as though there’s no current at all. Lots of good fishing places along here. There’s a kid ahead of us with a fishing pole.”
    “From the back, he looks just like Huckleberry Finn,” Trixie shouted.
    Honey touched Jim on the shoulder. “Let’s slow down and talk to him.”
    “Yeah,” Mart agreed. “Maybe he can give us the lowdown on where to go and what to see.”
    Jim pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Hi!” the Bob-Whites called out.
    The boy swung his fish pole over to the other shoulder and walked up to the car. “Hi! Where you from?” When they told him they lived in New York, he exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be a catfish! Come all the way in that car?”
    Jim laughed. “No, we didn’t. We all think you look just like Huck Finn. You aren’t, are you?”
    “Huh-uh. I ain’t even his ghost.