“Is Captain Corcoran there?  Oh, you are Captain Corcoran.  Well, I bring orders from headquarters.  You are to discontinue unloading, Captain, retain the remainder of the provisions on board, and prepare at once to take on men.  What’s your capacity?”

“Take on men?  Soldiers, you mean?”

“Exactly; we’ve got to find quarters for about seven hundred.  Two of those boats up yonder will take horses.  The troops will be along within an hour.”

“We are not to return south, then?”

“No; you’re going in the other direction—­up the Rock.  You better get busy.”

He wheeled his horse and disappeared, leaving the angry captain venting his displeasure on the vacant air.  Kirby, evidently from some position across the deck, broke in with a sharp question.

“What was that, Corcoran?  Did the fellow say you were not going back to St. Louis?”

“That’s just what he said.  Damn this being under military orders.  We’ve got to nose our way up Rock River, with a lot of those measly soldiers aboard.  It’s simply hell.  Here you, Mapes, stop that unloading, and get steam up—­we’ve got to put in a night of it.”

“But,” insisted Kirby in disgust, “I’m not going up there; aren’t there any boats going down?”

“How the hell should I know?  Go ashore and find out—­you haven’t anything else to do.  According to what he said, this boat casts off in half an hour and heads north.”

The men below knocked off work willingly enough, and, taking advantage of the confusion on board, I endeavored to creep up the stairs and gain a view of the upper deck.  But both Mapes and the second mate made this attempt impossible, forcing me into the ranks of the others, and compelling us to restow the cargo.  The methods they adopted to induce sluggards to take hold were not gentle ones, and we were soon jumping at the snarl of their voices, as though each utterance was the crack of a whip.  By a little diplomacy, I managed, however, to remain within general view of the gangway and the stairs descending from the deck above, confident that no one could pass me unseen.  This watch brought no results, except to convince me that Kirby and his party still remained aboard.  So far as I could perceive, no attempt to depart was made by anyone, excepting a big fellow with a red moustache, who swore profanely as he struggled through the mud, dragging a huge valise.

The situation puzzled and confused me.  What choice would Kirby and the deputy make?  If once up Rock River the Adventurer might very likely not return for weeks, and it did not seem to me possible that the impatient gambler would consent to such a delay.  Every advance northward brought with it a new danger of exposure.  These were Illinois troops to be transported—­not regulars, but militia, gathered from a hundred hamlets—­and many among them would be open enemies of slavery.  Let such men as these, rough with the pioneer sense