se, when a negro, evidently a cook from his dress, came up
from the lower deck, bearing a tray well-laden with food in one hand,
and disappeared aft. He did not even notice my presence, or glance
about, but I instantly shrank back out Of sight, for I became
immediately conscious that someone was closely following him. This
second man proved to be one of the fellows in civilian clothing I had
previously noticed at the table below, a tall, sallow individual,
attired in a suit of brown jeans, his lean, cracker face ornamented by
a grizzled bunch of chin-whiskers.

"Yer wait a minute thar, Jim," he called out, "'til I unlock that thar
dore. I ain't ther kind thet takes chances with no nigger."

I recognized the peculiar voice instantly, for I had listened to that
lazy drawl before while hidden in the darkness beneath the Beaucaire
veranda--the fellow was Tim, the deputy sheriff from St. Louis. The
negro rested his tray on the rail, while the white man fumbled through
his pockets for a key, finally locating it, and inserting the
instrument into the lock of the second cabin from the stern. It turned
hard, causing some delay, and a muttered curse, but finally yielded,
and the door was pushed partly ajar. I heard no words exchanged with
anyone within, but the negro pushed the tray forward without entering,
sliding it along the deck, while Tim, evidently satisfied that his
charges were quite safe, promptly reclosed and locked the door,
returning the key to the security of his pocket. After staring a
moment over the rail at the shore past which we were gliding, he
disappeared after the negro down the ladder. I was again alone on the
upper deck, except for the wheelsman in the pilot house, yet in that
broad daylight I hesitated to act on my first impulse. Eager as I
certainly was too make the poor girl aware of my presence on board, the
chance of being seen, and my purpose suspected by others, restrained
me. Besides, as yet, I had no plan of rescue; nothing to suggest.

Even as I hesitated, industriously scrubbing away at the paint, Kirby
and the captain appeared suddenly, pausing a moment at the head of the
ladder in friendly conversation. Parting at last, with a hearty laugh
over some joke exchanged between them, the latter ascended the steps to
the pilot house, while the gambler turned aft, still smiling, a cigar
between his lips. I managed to observe that he paused in front of the
second cabin, as though listenin