pursuit, in getting far beyond Kirby’s grip.  For the moment I felt reasonably safe where we were—­but only for the moment.  We could rest on this isolated island, barely lifting itself above the swamp, and plan our future, but within the limits of another day, probably, those fellows would discover signs of our passage, faint as they were, and follow us.  I dragged the map out from its silk wrapping and spread it forth on the ground between my knees.  It was the latest government survey, given me when I first departed for the North, and I already knew every line and stream by heart.  I bent over it in uncertainty, studying each feature, gradually determining the better course, weighing this consideration and that.

I became so interested in the problem as to entirely forget her presence, but, when I finally lifted my head, our eyes met, and I instantly read in the depths of hers the dawning of recognition.  They were no longer dull, dead, emotionless, but aglow with returning life—­puzzled, unassured, yet clearly conscious.

“Who are you?” she breathed incredulously, lifting herself upon one hand.  “Oh, surely I know—­Lieutenant Knox!  Why, where am I?  What has happened?  Oh, God! you do not need to tell me that!  But you; I cannot understand about you.  They—­they said you died.”

“They must have said much to deceive you,” and I bent forward to touch her hand.  “See, I am very much alive.  Let me tell you—­that will be the quickest way to understand.  In the first place I did not drown when the boat was smashed, but was rendered helpless and borne away on the water.  I drifted through the darkness out into the Mississippi, and later became caught on a snag in the middle of that stream.  The Adventurer rescued me about daylight the next morning, and I was no sooner on board than I was told how the keel-boat had been run down below on the river during the night and that your party had all been saved—­two white men and two negress slaves.  Of course, I knew you must be one of them.”

“Then—­then we were actually together, on the same boat, all the way up here?”

“Yes; I tried hard to find where you were concealed on board, but failed.  I might not have helped you, but I thought you would be glad to know I was alive.  Kirby guarded you with great care from all observation.  Do you know why?”

Her wide-opened eyes gazed into mine frankly, but her lips trembled.

“Yes,” she answered, as though forcing herself to speak.  “I do know now.  I thought I knew then, but was mistaken.  I supposed it might be because I looked so little like a negress, but now I realize it was his own conscience.  He knew I was a white woman; he had become convinced that I was Eloise Beaucaire.  Did you know that, also?”

“I learned the truth on the boat, from the same source where Kirby obtained his information.  Elsie Clark told me.”

“Elsie Clark!  Who is she?  How did she know?”