permitted me a view of the river, and the low-lying shore
beyond, past which we were slowly moving. The sun was just rising
above the eastern horizon, and the water reflected a purple tinge.
With no desire to return immediately to the deck, I seated myself on
the stool to consider the situation.

Fate had played a strange trick, and I knew not how best to turn it to
advantage. One thing only was clear; whatever was to be accomplished,
I would have to do it alone--nowhere could I turn for help. In the
first place Kirby undoubtedly had the law with him, and besides was
among friends--those who would naturally believe him, and were loyal to
the institution of slavery. The very fact that this was a Memphis boat
we were on precluded any possibility that the crew would sympathize
with a nigger-stealer. Nor could I anticipate any assistance from
without. Steamboats were few and far between on these northern waters,
and at this time, if the report of war was true, everything afloat
would be headed up stream, laden with troops and provisions. That the
report was true I had no doubt. The probability of an outbreak was
known before I left Fort Armstrong; the crisis had come earlier than
expected, that was all.

This, then, was the situation--through an odd intervention of
Providence here we were all together on this steamer, which was
steadily churning its way northward, every turn of the wheel bearing us
deeper into the wilderness. The chances were that we should thus be
aboard for several days; certainly until we encountered some other boat
bound down stream, which would accept us as passengers. Meanwhile what
should I do? How escape observation? How reach Rene, without
encountering Kirby? The answer was not an easy one. The deputy would
not know me, for I had never been seen by him. Kirby believed me dead,
yet might recognize me in spite of that conviction if we met face to
face. Still, would he? The daring hope that he might not came to me
in a flash. Might it not be possible to so disguise myself as to
become unnoticeable? I sprang up to stare at my features in the small
mirror hanging over the washstand. The face which confronted me in
surprise was almost a strange one even to my eyes. Instead of the
smart young soldier, smoothly shaven, with closely-trimmed hair, and
rather carefully attired, as I had appeared on board the _Warrior_, the
glass reflected a bearded face, the skin visibly roughened and r