nor so easily attained.  Hitherto, in the midst of the excitement occasioned by Beaucaire’s tragic death, my mind had grasped but one idea clearly—­if I permitted Kirby to be mobbed and killed by those enraged men, his death would benefit no one; would remedy no wrong.  That mad mob spirit must be fought down, conquered.  Yet now, when I had actually accomplished this, what must be my next step?  Nothing less potent than either fear, or force, would ever make Kirby disgorge.  Quite evidently the gambler had deliberately set out to ruin the planter, to rob him of every dollar.  Even at the last moment he had coldly insisted on receiving a bill of sale so worded as to leave no possible loophole.  He demanded all.  The death of the Judge, of course, had not been contemplated, but this in no way changed the result.  That was an accident, yet, I imagined, might not be altogether unwelcome, and I could not rid my memory of that shining weapon in Kirby’s hand, or the thought that he would have used it had the need arose.  Would he not then fight just as fiercely to keep, as he had, to gain?  Indeed, I had but one fact upon which I might hope to base action—­every watcher believed those cards had been stacked, and that Beaucaire was robbed by means of a trick.  Yet, could this be proven?  Would any one of those men actually swear that he had seen a suspicious move?  If not, then what was there left me except a mere bluff?  Absolutely nothing.

Gambling was a recognized institution, with which even the law did not interfere.  Of course there were statutes in both Missouri and Illinois, but no enforcement.  Indeed the gambling fraternity was so firmly intrenched, through wealth and influence, that no steamer captain even, autocratic as he often was, would dare encroach on their prerogatives.  Interested as Thockmorton would be in serving Beaucaire’s dependents, and as much as he cordially disliked Kirby, all I could rely upon from him in this emergency would be a certain moral support, and possibly some valuable advice.  He would never dare ally himself openly, for the cost of such action would be too high.  On the other hand, from my knowledge of Kirby’s desperate character, and previous exploits, I seriously doubted the efficacy of threatening him with lynch law.  He would be far more liable to defy a mob than yield to its demands.  Yet memory of those two helpless girls—­more particularly that one over whose unconsciousness there hung the possibility of slavery—­urged me strongly to attempt even the apparently impossible.  I had it in my mind to fight the man personally if, in no other way, I could attain my end; at least I would face him with every power and authority I could bring to bear.