b? This yere Kirby matter?"

He nodded sullenly, a bit regretful that he had gone so far I imagined,
and with another cautious glance about the room.

"I'll tell yer all ye need ter know," he began. "'Tain't such a long
story. This yere Joe Kirby he's a frien' o' mine; I've know'd him a
long time, an' he's in a hell of a fix. He told me 'bout it comin' up
on the boat, an', betwixt us, we sort'r fixed up a way ter stack ther
cards. Here's how it all happened: Thar wus an ol' planter livin' down
in Missoury at a place called Beaucaire's Landin'. His name wus
Beaucaire, an' he hed a son named Bert, a damn good-fer-nuthing cuss, I
reckon. Wal' this Bert runned away a long while ago, an' never cum
back; but he left a baby behind him--a gurl baby--which a quadroon
slave give birth too. The quadroon's name wus Delia, an' the kid wus
called Rene. Git them names in yer head. Ol' Beaucaire he knew the
gurl wus his son's baby, so he brought her up 'long with his own
daughter, who wus named Eloise. They wus both 'bout ther same age, an'
nobody seemed ter know thet Rene wus a nigger. Fer sum reason ol'
Beaucaire never set her free, ner the quadroon nether. Wal' Kirby he
heard tell o' all this sumwhar down the river. Yer see he an' Bert
Beaucaire run tergether fer a while, till Bert got killed in a row in
New Orleans. I reckon he tol' him part o' the story, an' the rest he
picked up in Saint Louee. Enyhow it looked like a damn good thing ter
Kirby, who ain't passin' up many bets. Ol' Beaucaire wus rich, an'
considerable ov a sport; people who hed seed the gurls sed they wus
both ov 'em beauties an' Eloise--the white one--hed an independent
fortune left her through her mother. So Kirby, he an' a feller named
Carver--a tin-horn--planned it out betwixt 'em ter copper ol'
Beaucaire's coin, an' pick up them gurls along with it."

"But how cud they do thet?"

"Luck mostly, I reckon, an' Kirby's brains. The plan wus ter git
Beaucaire inter a poker game, ease him 'long a bit, an' then break him,
land, niggers, an' all. They didn't figure this wud be hard, fer he
wus a dead game gambler, an' played fer big stakes. It wus luck though
what giv' 'em their chance. Beaucaire hed sum minin' claims up on the
Fevre, an' hed ter go up thar. It's a long, lonesom' trip, I reckon,
an' so the other two they went 'long. They got the ol' chap goin' an
comin', an' finally coddled him 'long till he put up his big bet on a
sure hand