“Of course, they chased them?’

“Best they cud, not knowin’ which way they’d gone.  They reckoned the whol’ bunch must’r got away tergether, so the sheriff he started fer Saint Louee, an’ the others got onto a troop boat what happened ter cum ’long, and started north.  Long ’bout the mouth ov the Illinoy they caught up with a nigger-stealer named Shrunk.  They hed a fight in an’ about his cabin, an’ sum killin’.  Two ov the womin got away, but Kirby an’ Tim got hold o’ this gurl what hed claimed ter be Rene, an’ a mulatto cook who wus a workin’ fer Shrunk.  I reckon maybe yer know the rest.”

“I know they wus run down by the Adventurer, an’ hauled aboard.  But how did Kirby learn his prisoner wus white?  Did she tell him?”

“I should say not.  It wus the mulatto cook who told him, although, I reckon, he hed his doubts afore thet I knew she wusn’t no nigger the furst minute I got eyes on her—­they can’t fool me none on niggers; I wus raised ’mong ’em.  But so fur’s the gurl’s concerned, she don’t know yet thet Kirby’s found out.”  He emitted a weak laugh.  “It sorter skeered Joe ter be caught way up yere in this kintry, kidnapin’ a white gurl.  He didn’t know whut the hell ter do, till I give him a p’inter.”

“You were the one who suggested marriage?”

“Wal’, I sed she cudn’t do nuthin’ ’gainst him onct he wus married to her.  I thought o’ thet right away.  Yer see this wus how it happened:  Kirby sed he’d like fer ter marry her, an’ I sez, ’why not then?  Thar’s an ol’ bum ov a preacher yere at Yellow Banks, a sorter hanger-on ter one o’ them militia companies, what’ll do eny damn thing I tell him too.  I got the goods on him, an’ he knows it.’

“‘But she wouldn’t marry me,’ he says, ‘yer don’t know thet gurl.’

“‘Don’t I,’ I asked sarcastic.  ‘Wal’, thar ain’t no gurl ever I see yet thet won’t marry a man if the right means are used.  How kin she help herself?  Yer leave it ter me.’”

“And he consented?”

“He wus damn glad to, after I told him how it cud be done.  But Tim he wudn’t go in with us, an’ thet’s why we got ter hav’ anuther man.  Come on over ter the bar an’ hav’ a drink, Moffett; them other fellers are goin’ ter eat now.”

The diversion gave me opportunity for a moment’s thought.  The plan was a diabolical one, cold-blooded and desperate, yet I saw no certain way of serving her, except by accepting Rale’s offer.  I had no satisfactory proof to present against these villains, and, even if I had, by the time I succeeded in locating headquarters and establishing my own identity, the foul trick might be executed without my aid, and the injured girl spirited away beyond reach.  I did not even know where she was concealed, or how I could lay hands on Kirby.  The genial Rale pushed out a black bottle and we drank together.

“Wal’,” he said, picking up the conversation where it had ended, quite satisfied with his diplomacy, and wiping his lips on his sleeve.  “What ye say, Moffett?  Thar’s a hundred dollars in this job.”