As Judge Clayton walked away, Dunwody turned to the overseer, whom he had seen before on the Clayton plantations.

“So you had trouble this time?” he ventured.

“Heap of it, sir,” replied the overseer, taking off his cap.  “It was that fine yaller lady there that made most of it.  She’s the one that’s a-fo_mint_in’ trouble right along.  She’s a quiet lookin’ gal, but she ain’t.  It’s all right what the jedge says to me, but I’m goin’ to have a little settle_ment_ with this fine lady myself, this time.”

The girl heard him plainly enough, but only turned moodily back toward the coil of rope where sat the two blacks who had been her companions.  From these she kept her skirt as remote as though they were not of her station.  Dunwody approached the overseer, and put a gold double-eagle in his hand.

“Listen here, Wilson,” said he, “you seem to be able to handle such people discreetly.  Now I’ve got a prisoner along, up-stairs, myself—­never mind who she is or how she comes here.  As you know, I’m a United States marshal for this district, and this prisoner has been turned over to me.  I’m going on up home, beyond St. Genevieve, and I’ve got to change down there at Cairo myself, to take the up-river boat.”

“Mulattress?” listlessly inquired Wilson, after grinning at the coin.  “They’re the wust.  I’d rather handle straight niggers my own self.”

“Well,” said Dunwody, “now that you mention it, I don’t know but they would be easier to handle.  This prisoner is about as tall as that girl yonder, and she’s a whole lot lighter, do you understand?  Of a dark night—­say about the time we’d get down to Cairo, midnight—­well wrapped up, and the face of neither showing, it might be hard to tell one of them from the other.”

“How’ll you trade?” grinned Wilson.  “Anybody kin git a mighty good trade for this yaller lady of ours here.  If she was mine I’d trade her for a sack of last year potatoes.  I reckon Jedge Clayton’ll be sick enough of her, time he gets expenses of this last trip paid, gittin’ her back.”

“I’m not trading,” said Dunwody, frowning and flushing.  “But now I’ll tell you what I want you to do, when we get into Cairo.  I may have trouble with my prisoner, and I don’t know any better man than yourself to have around in a case like that.  Do you think, if I left it all to you, you could handle it?”

“Shore I could—­what’s the use of your troublin’ yourself about it, Colonel Dunwody?  This here’s more in my line.”

Dunwody turned away with a sudden feeling of revulsion, almost of nausea at the thought now in his mind.  It was a few moments later that he again approached Wilson.