I could easily understand the reason for this.  He dare not expose her to the view of others, or permit her the slightest opportunity to appeal to them for rescue.  Whether the man still believed her to be of negro blood, or not, the girl’s unusual appearance would be certain to exercise more weight than his unsupported word—­her refined, Caucasian face, the purity of her language, her simple story, would assuredly win an instant response from many of those on board.  These waters were too far to the northward to be a safe hiding place for slave-hunters, and Kirby must be fully aware—­knowing the characteristics of the river as he did—­that his only security lay in keeping this woman in seclusion, carefully hidden away under lock and key, until he held her completely in his power, in a land where slavery was king.  Then he could play the brute, but not here.  I was convinced the man possessed brains and caution enough to deliberately choose this course—­to do otherwise would mark him a fool, and that was not to be thought of.  Even his reckless bravado would never drive him into an utterly unnecessary peril.  All that he planned to accomplish later, could wait; but now his only purpose was to protect her from observation; to encourage his fellow-travelers to even forget that he had any slaves on board.  There was a game of cards going on in the salon, in which he was participating, but Tim, not concerned in it, was wandering back and forth, up and down the ladder, watchful of every movement about the two decks, and making it extremely difficult for anyone to pass his guard.  Satisfied as to this, and being intensely weary from my night without rest, and the hard work of the day, before I even realized the possibility, I fell sound asleep.

It was about the middle of the following afternoon when the Adventurer poked her blunt nose around a point of land, and came into full view of the squalid hamlet of Yellow Banks.  A half-hour later we lay snuggled up against the shore, holding position amid several other boats made fast to stout trees, busily unloading, and their broad gangplanks stretching from forward deck to bank.  All about was a scene of confusion and bustle, mud, and frontier desolation.  Inspired by the ceaseless profanity of both mates, the roustabouts began unloading cargo at once, a steady stream of men, black and white, burdened with whatever load they could snatch up, moving on an endless run across the stiff plank, and up the low bank to the drier summit.  It chanced to be my good fortune to escape this labor, having been detailed by Mapes to drag boxes, bales and barrels forward to where the hurrying bearers could grasp them more readily.  This brought me close to the forward stairs, down which the departing passengers trooped, threading their insecure way among the trotting laborers, in an effort to get ashore.