“Seems sorter queer ter me,” admitted the sheriff, “but I did get a little outer that feller Carver comin’ up.  He’s a close-mouthed cuss, an’ didn’t say much, but puttin’ it with what yer just told me, I reckon I kin sorter figger it out.  Carver is som’ sorter partner with Kirby—­a capper I reckon—­an’ enyhow he had a hand in that kayrd game.  ‘Tain’t the niggers thet are makin’ the trouble—­leastways not the black ’uns.  Nobody’s likely ter row over them.  It seems that Beaucaire kept a quadroon housekeeper, a slave, o’ course, an’ a while back she giv’ birth ter a child, the father o’ the infant bein’ Judge Beaucaire’s son.  Then the son skipped out, an’ ain’t ever bin heard frum since—­dead most likely, fer all this wus twenty years ago.  ’Course the child, which wus a girl, is as white as I am—­maybe more so.  I ain’t never set eyes on her, but Carver he says she’s damn good lookin’.  Enyhow the Jedge he brought her up like his own daughter, sent her ter school in Saint Louee, an’ nobody ’round yere even suspected she wus a nigger.  I reckon she didn’t know it herself.”

“The hell you say.”

“Yes, but that ain’t all o’ it.  I don’t know how it happened—­maybe he forgot, er put it off too long, er aimed ter git revenge—­but, it seems, he never executed no paper freein’ either her or her mother.”

“Yer mean the girl’s still a slave?”

“Yer bet!  That’s the law, ain’t it?”

“And Kirby knew about this?”

“I reckon he did.  I sorter judge, Tim, frum whut Carver sed, that he wus more anxious fer ter git thet girl than all the rest o’ the stuff; an’ it’s her he wants ter git away frum yere on the dead quiet, afore Haines er any o’ them others down at the Landin’ kin catch on.”

“They couldn’t do nuthin’; if thar ain’t no papers, then she’s his, accordin’ ter law.  I’ve seen that tried afore now.”

“Of course; but what’s the use o’ runnin’ eny risk?  A smart lawyer like Haines could make a hell ov a lot o’ trouble just the same, if he took a notion.  That’s Kirby’s idee—­ter cum’ up yere in a boat, unbeknownst to enybody, tie up down thar at Saunders’, an’ run the whole bunch o’ niggers off in the night.  Then it’s done an’ over with afore the Landin’ even wakes up.  I reckon the Jedge told him that wus the best way.”

There was a moment of silence, the first man evidently turning the situation over in his mind.  The sheriff bent across the rail, and spat into the darkness below.

“The joke of it all is,” he continued, with a short laugh, as he straightened up, “this didn’t exactly work out ‘cordin’ ter schedule.  When we dropped in yere we rounded up the niggers all right, an’ we got the girl whar there’s no chance fer her ter git away—­”

“Is that the one back in the house?”