St. George Rathborne's 'Chums in Dixie; or, The Strange Cruise of a Motorboat' is a riveting adventure novel set in the American South. The story follows a group of friends as they navigate the winding rivers and murky swamps of the Mississippi Delta in a motorboat, encountering mysterious characters and dangerous situations along the way. Rathborne's descriptive prose and vivid imagery immerse the reader in the landscape of the Deep South, capturing both its beauty and its dangers. The novel's fast-paced plot and engaging dialogue make it a thrilling read, perfect for fans of adventure fiction. As a prominent author of his time, Rathborne masterfully blends elements of suspense, friendship, and exploration in this classic tale. 'Chums in Dixie' stands out as a testament to Rathborne's skill in storytelling and his ability to transport readers to another time and place. I highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a captivating adventure story with a historical twist.

"Phil, oh! Phil, won't you please hurry up? I'll go to sleep pretty soon, if we don't get a move on us." "Just give me five minutes more, Larry, and I promise you we're going to leave this place, and start on our cruise down to the big Gulf. I've got a couple of nuts to put on again, and then you'll hear the little motor begin to hum." The last speaker was bending over the engine of a fair-sized motor boat, which had a stationary roof, and adjustable curtains that in time of need could be made to enclose the entire vessel. This modern craft was tied up against the bank of one of those narrow but swift streams that, having their source in southern Georgia or Alabama, find their way to the Gulf of Mexico, after passing through many miles of Florida cypress swamps that are next to unknown territory to the outside world. Phil Lancing was the son of a well-to-do Northern physician, who had some time previously come into possession of a very large tract of territory in Northern Florida. Considerable of this property was in vast swamps; and here squatters had settled many years back, cutting the trees at their pleasure, and making vast quantities of cypress shingles, which were floated down the river to markets along the gulf. The second occupant of the brave launch Aurora was a rather chubby specimen of a half grown lad, with a rosy face, and laughing blue eyes. Larry Densmore expected to become a lawyer some fine day, and in evidence of his fitness for the business he was constantly asking questions, and finding debatable points in such matters as naturally came up. Phil being an amateur naturalist, knew considerable about the woods and their numerous denizens. Larry was an utter greenhorn, and apt many times to display his gross ignorance concerning the habits of game; as well as the thousand and one things a woodsman is supposed to be acquainted with. But his good-nature was really without limit; and one could hardly ever get provoked with Larry, even when he committed the most stupendous of blunders. Upon hearing these consoling words from his chum, Larry, who was sitting well up in the bow of the boat, yawned and stretched himself. The southern sun was inclined to be warm, and Larry had not slept very well the two nights he had been aboard the motor boat. But then it was nothing very singular to see the chubby lad yawning at any time of the day. "I'm real glad we've got all our supplies aboard," he said, aloud, just to pass the time away, and to keep awake while Phil was fussing with the engine preparatory to starting on their trip down-stream. "I'm tired of this dead little village that they call a town. And tired of hearing what an awful lot of trouble we're bound to buck up against when we get two-thirds of the way down to the gulf. Wonder what they'd say if they knew your dad owned most all of that property along this crazy old creek they call a river. And that you even expect to stop off to interview that terrible McGee they talk about! Oh, my! what was that, now?" Larry ceased to stretch himself. He even sat up, his eyes wide open now, as if he had noticed something away out of the usual; and they were fastened on the stern of the boat, where he had certainly seen something slip over the gunwale, and vanish under a pile of blankets that had been airing.

Reproduction of the original: Chums in Dixie by St. George Rathborne

""I say, what's gone wrong now, Maurice, old fel?" The speaker, a roughly clad boy of about fifteen or over, caught hold of his companion's sleeve and looked sympathetically in his face. The lad whom he called Maurice was better dressed, and he seemed to carry with him a certain air of refinement that was lacking in his friend, who was of a rougher nature. Despite this difference he and Thad Tucker were the closest of chums, sharing each other's joys and disappointments, small though they might be. They had met just now at the post-office of a little country town not many miles below Evansville, Indiana, as the afternoon mail was being sorted. The yellow flood of the great Ohio River could be seen from where they stood, glowing in the early November sunshine. Upon being greeted with these words Maurice Pemberton shook his head dolefully."--FictionDB.