nt at
the jaded horses, the hard-faced men. By this time the original
half dozen riders had received reinforcements at different
plantations, so that a band of perhaps thirty armed men had
assembled. It had needed little more for the average listener than
a word telling the news.

Brief inquiry at St. Genevieve informed them that the little
steamer _Helen Bell_ had passed the town front that day soon after
noon. As she depended almost as much upon poles and lines for her
up-stream progress as upon her steam, it was thought likely she
would tie up for the night at some point not more than ten or
twelve miles up-stream. Dunwody therefore determined to ride
across the river bed at its shortest distance, in the attempt to
intercept the steamer, relying upon chance to secure small boats
near at hand should they be necessary. His men by this time were
glad enough to dismount and take some sort of refreshment before
this last stage of their journey.

It was dark when again they mounted, and the old river road, full
of wash-outs, stumps and roots, made going slow after the moon had
sunk. They had, however, no great distance to ride. At a point
ten miles up the river they came upon a small huddle of fishermen's
huts. At one of these Dunwody knocked, and the frightened tenant,
at first almost speechless at the sight of so many armed men,
stammeringly informed him that the steamer had passed late that
evening and was, in his belief, tied up at a little towhead island
not more than half a mile up-stream.

"What boats have you got here?" demanded Dunwody.

"No boat at all, Monsieur," rejoined the habitant.

"Maybe so four, five feesh boat, that's hall."

"Bring them out!" was the terse order.

They dismounted and, leaving their horses tied in the wood at the
roadside, they went to the water's edge and presently embarked, a
half dozen men in each of as many long river skiffs, of the type
used by the fishermen in carrying out their nets. Dunwody and
Clayton were in the foremost boat and each pulled an oar. The
little flotilla crawled up-stream slowly, hugging the bank and
keeping to the shadows. At last they were opposite a low,
willow-covered island, and within a narrow channel where the water,
confined between two banks, flowed with swifter current. At
length, at Dunwody's quiet signal, all the boats paused, the crews
holding fast to the overhanging branches of the trees on the main
shore of the river.

"She