It was a poor meal enough, although it sufficed to dull hunger, and yield us some strength.  Eloise succeeded in choking down a few morsels, but drank thirstily.  It was pitiful to watch her, and to mark the constant effort she was making to force the return of memory.  Her eyes, dull, uncomprehending, wandered continually from face to face in our little group, but no flash of intelligence lighted up their depths.  I had Elsie bathe her face with water and while, no doubt, this refreshed her somewhat, she only rested her head back on my coat, which I had folded for a pillow, and again closed her heavy eyes.  The negress appeared so tired I bade her lie down and sleep, and soon after Tim also disappeared.  I remained there alone, guarding the woman I loved.

I myself had reason enough to be weary, yet was not conscious of the slightest desire to rest.  My mind did not crave sleep.  That Eloise had been drugged for a purpose was now beyond controversy, but what the nature of that drug might be, and how it could be combated, were beyond my power to determine.  Even if I knew, the only remedies at hand were water and fresh air.  And how were we to escape, burdened by this helpless girl, from pursuit, which, perhaps, had already started from Yellow Banks?  At all hazards I must now prevent this dazed, stupified woman from ever again falling into the power of Joe Kirby.  That was the one fact I knew.  I would rather kill her with my own hand, for I was convinced the fellow actually possessed a legal right, which I could not hope to overthrow.  However it had been accomplished, through what villainy, made no odds—­she was his wife, and could only be released through process of law.  He could claim her, hold her in spite of me, in spite of herself.  No influence I might bring to bear would save her now from this contamination.  It would all be useless, a thing for laughter.  Her signature—­of which Kirby had boasted—­and the certificate signed by the dead Gaskins, would offset any possible efforts I might put forth.  There remained no hope except through flight; outdistancing our pursuers; finding a route to safety through the wilderness which they would never suspect.

Where could such a route be found?  In which direction was it safest for us to turn?  Surely not southward down the river seeking refuge at Fort Madison, nor in the opposite direction toward Fort Armstrong.  I thought of both of these, but only to dismiss them from consideration.  Had it not been for this marriage, either might have answered, but now they would prove no protection.  Those men whom we were seeking to escape would remember these points at once, and suspect our fleeing to either one or the other.  There was no power there able to protect her from the lawful authority of a husband; nor could she deny that authority, if he held in his hands the proof.  No, I must find an unknown path, an untraveled trail.  Our only hope lay in baffling