Rounding the headland brought us immediately into a new country, the river bank high and firm, a bank of rather vivid yellow clay, with trees thickly covering the rising ground beyond.  The passage of a few hundred yards revealed the mouth of Rassuer Creek, a narrow but sluggish stream, so crooked and encroached upon by the woods as to be practically invisible from the center of the river.  The water was not deep, yet fortunately proved sufficiently so for our purpose, although we were obliged to both pole and paddle the boat upward against the slow current, and it required an hour of hard labor to place the craft safely beyond the first bend where it might lie thoroughly concealed by the intervening fringe of trees.  Here we made fast to the bank.

I assisted Rene ashore, and aided her to climb to a higher level, carpeted with grass.  The broad river was invisible, but we could look directly down upon the boat, where Sam was already busily rummaging through the lockers, in search of something to eat.  He came ashore presently bearing some corn pone, and a goodly portion of jerked beef.  Deciding it would be better not to attempt a fire, we divided this, and made the best meal possible, meanwhile discussing the situation anew, and planning what to do next.  The negro, seated at one side alone upon the grass, said little, beyond replying to my questions, yet scarcely once removed his eyes from the girl’s face.  He seemed unable to grasp the thought that she was actually of his race, a runaway slave, or permit his tongue to utter any words of equality.  Indeed, I could not prevent my own glance from being constantly attracted in her direction, also.  Whatever had been her mental strain and anguish, the long hours of the night had in no marked degree diminished her beauty.  To me she appeared even younger, and more attractive than in the dim glare of the lamplight the evening before; and this in spite of a weariness in her eyes, and the lassitude of her manner.  She spoke but little, compelling herself to eat, and assuming a cheerfulness I was sure she was far from feeling.  It was clearly evident her thoughts were elsewhere, and finally the conviction came to me, that, more than all else, she desired to be alone.  My eyes sought the outlines of the boat lying in the stream below.

“What is there forward of the cockpit, Sam?” I questioned.  “Beneath the deck, I mean; there seem to be several portholes.”

“A cabin, sah; ’tain’t so awful big, but Massa Donaldson he uster sleep dar off an’ on.”

“The young lady could rest there then?”

“Sure she cud.  ’Twas all fixed up fine afore we lef Saint Louee.  Ah’ll show yer de way, Missus.”

She rose to her feet rather eagerly, and stood with one hand resting against the trunk of a small tree.  Her eyes met mine, and endeavored a smile.

“I thank you for thinking of that,” she said gratefully.  “I—­I really am tired, and—­and it will be rest just to be alone.  You—­you do not mind if I go?”