“Some, perhaps; it is all Indian country, north and east of here—­or has been.  I am not denying that, but this danger does not compare, in my mind, with the peril which confronts us in every other direction.  I am trying to choose the least.  Our greatest difficulty will be the lack of food—­we possess no guns with which to kill game, only pistols, and an exceedingly small stock of ammunition.  That is what troubles Tim; that, and his eagerness to get back down the river.  He fails to realize what it would mean to you to fall again into Kirby’s hands.”

“Do you realize?”

“Do I?  It is the one memory which controls me.  Tell me, am I not right?  No, not about the route, but about the man.  You despise the fellow; you are willing to face any hardship so as to escape him?”

“I would rather die than have him touch me.  I never knew the meaning of hate before.  Surely you cannot deem it possible that I could ever forgive?”

“No; that would be hard to conceive; and yet, I wished to hear the words from your own lips.  Will you answer me one thing more—­why did you first assume the character of Rene, and why did you repose such instant trust in me?”

She smiled rather wistfully, her long lashes concealing her eyes.

“I think I myself hardly knew,” she admitted timidly.  “It all happened, was born of impulse, rather than through any plan.  Perhaps it was just the woman in me.  After my father died, Delia thought it best to tell us the story of Rene’s birth.  This—­this was such a terrible tale, and later we sought all through his private papers, hoping he had taken some action to set those two free.  There was no proof that he had, no mention, indeed, except a memorandum of intention to refer the matter to Lawyer Haines at the Landing.  This merely served to confirm what Delia had told us, and, as Haines had gone to St. Louis, we were unable to see him.  We were all of us nearly crazed; I was even afraid Rene would throw herself into the river.  So I suggested that we run away and drew money out of my private account for that purpose.  My only thought was to take a steamer up the Ohio, to some place where we were not known, and begin life over again.  Rene had been a sister to me always; we were playmates from childhood, and I had grown up loving and trusting Delia ever since I was a baby.  No sacrifice was too great to prevent their being sold into slavery.  Oh, you cannot understand—­I had no mind left; only a blind impulse to save them.”

I caught her hand in mine and held it firmly.

“Perhaps I do understand.  It was my knowledge of this very condition which first brought me to you.”

“You heard about us on the boat—­the Warrior?  Did father tell you?”

“No; it was Kirby.  He was actually proud of what he had done—­boasted to me of his success.  I have never known a man so heartlessly conceited.  Eloise, listen.  You may have thought this was largely an accident.  It was not; it was a deliberately planned, cold-blooded plot.  I tell you that Joe Kirby is of the devil’s own breed; he is not human.  Rene’s father told him first of the peculiar conditions at Beaucaire.”