a fresh recruit, and had given his name
as Turlipe. Only one day had he been sworn to the service of the
brigands, promising to do the bidding of their chief, Burke Pierce.

Expurgated of much grossness and profanity, the discursive talk, in
this hiding place of criminals, may be partially reproduced as
follows. The chief is first to speak:

"There was a French hunter, who hid a lot of skins in a clearing close
by Red River, at a place called 'Cache la Turlipe.' Are you akin to
that Turlipe?"

The sullen man shook his head.

"Have you been in the business before this?"

"More or less. I have run on the river all my life; was patron on a
Kentucky boat."

"'Tain't a business, it's a profession," put in Nine Eyes. "But the
profits ain't wot they used to be, and the risks is greater. I mind
the time, cap, when Cave in the Rock, up the Ohio, jest below Massac,
was the headquarters of the biggest men in our line. Wilson's boys
done their wreck'n along by Hurricane, and stored their stuff in the
cave. They carried on the Last Night-Cap game when they could get hold
of a good customer."

"What's that?" asked Sheldrake. Cacosotte grinned and winked at
Pierce.

"Your pard's too green to plug, cap."

"Don't you Pittsburgers drink a las' snort before goin' to bed? Well,
can't you see the pint? They played the game this-a-way. Lodgers at
the House of Natur often overslep themselves--couldn't wake up. There
was a sign down on the river bank, jest under the cave--'Wilson's
Liquor Vault and House for Entertainment.' The durn fool farmers
comin' down the river with their produce had a cur'osity to see what
the plague a _vault_ was like and how Wilson's liquor tasted. They
clim up, got drunk, were put to bed, and--" Here Nine Eyes went
through a pantomime suggestive of throat-cutting. The black man, who
stuck close by Sheldrake's side, twisted in his seat, and showed the
white of his eyes. Sott, delighted to note these signs of trepidation,
went on with his reminiscences.

"Cap'n, you ric'lect Colonel Plug, that carried on at Hurricane Island
and the mouth of Cash, after Wilson was nabbed? Plug was a Yankee, and
a hell of a smart un. He was from Pensylvany. His real name was
Fluger, but we called him Plug and his woming Pluggie. I got into a
misunderstanding with the colonel about that lady; colonel allowed her
and me was too thick, so me and him, begad, had a rough-and-tumble,
and that's how I come by this here." He pointe