“Soon,” replied Murrell.  Slosson laughed.

“I didn’t know but you’d clean forgot the Clan’s business.  I want to ask another question—­but first I want to say that no one thinks higher or more frequent of the ladies than just me, I’m genuinely fond of ’em and I’ve never lifted my hand ag’in’ ’em except in kindness.”  Mr. Slosson looked at Ware with an exceedingly virtuous expression of countenance.  He continued.  “Yo’ orders are that we’re to slip out of this a little afore midnight, but suppose there’s a hitch—­here’s the lady knowing what she knows and here’s the boy knowing what he knows.”

“There can be no hitch,” rasped out Murrell arrogantly.

“I never knew a speculation that couldn’t go wrong; and by rights we should have got away last night.”

“Well, whose fault is it you didn’t?” demanded Murrell.

“In a manner it were mine, but the ark got on a sandbank as we were fetching it in and it took us the whole damn night to get clear.”

“Well?” prompted Murrell, with a sullen frown.

“Suppose they get shut of that notion of theirs that the lady’s done drowned herself, suppose they take to watching the river?  Or suppose the whole damn bottom drops out of this deal?  What then?  Why, I’ll tell you what then—­the lady, good looking as she is, knows enough to make west Tennessee mighty onhealthy for some of us.  I say suppose it’s a flash in the pan and you have to crowd the distance in between you and this part of the world, you can’t tell me you’ll have any use for her then.”  Slosson paused impressively.  “And here’s Mr. Ware feeling bad, feeling like hell,” he resumed.  “Him and me don’t want to be left in no trap with you gone God only knows where.”

“I’ll send a man to take charge of the keel boat.  I can’t risk any more of your bungling, Joe.”

“That’s all right, but you don’t answer my question,” persisted Slosson, with admirable tenacity of purpose.

“What is your question, Joe?”

“A lot can happen between this and midnight—­”

“If things go wrong with us there’ll be a blaze at the head of the bayou; does that satisfy you?”

“And what then?”

Murrell hesitated.

“What about the girl?” insisted Slosson, dragging him back to the point at issue between them.  “As a man I wouldn’t lift my hand ag’in’ no good looking woman except like I said—­in kindness, but she can’t be turned loose, she knows too much.  What’s the word, Captain—­you say it!” he urged.  He made a gesture of appeal to Ware.

“Look for the light; better still, look for the man I’ll send.”  And with this Murrell would have turned away, but Slosson detained him.

“Who’ll he be?”

“Some fellow who knows the river.”

“And if it’s the light?” asked the tavern-keeper in a hoarse undertone.  Again he looked toward Ware, who, dry-lipped and ashen, was regarding him steadfastly.  Glance met glance, for a brief instant they looked deep into each other’s eyes and then the hand Slosson had rested on Murrell’s shoulder dropped at his side.