ving that it was his duty to take care of
Nelia Crele, the fair woman of the river. He had believed only too
readily that his duty lay where his heart's desire had been most eager.
He sat there in dumb horror at the sin which had blinded him.

"I come down yeah to find Jock Drones for his mother!" He reminded
himself by speaking his mission aloud, adding, "And hyar I've be'n
floating down looking for a woman, looking for a pretty woman!"

And because he could remember her shoes, the smooth leather over those
exquisite ankles, Parson Rasba knew that his sin was mortal, and that no
other son of man had ever strayed so far as he.

No wonder he was caught in a desert blizzard where no one had ever said
there was a desert!

"Lord God," he cried out, "he'p this yeah po'r sinner! He'p! He'p!"

CHAPTER XVI

Jock, _alias_ "Slip," Drones, was discovering how small the world really
is. Like many another man, he had figured that no one would know him, no
one could possibly find him, down the Mississippi River, more than a
thousand miles from home. Having killed, or at least fought his man in a
deadly feud war, he had escaped into the far places. His many months of
isolation had given him confidence and taken the natural uneasiness of
flight from his mind.

Now someone was coming down the Mississippi inquiring for Jock Drones! A
detective, as relentless, as sure as a bullet in the heart, was coming.
He might even then be lurking in the brush up the bank, waiting to get a
sure drop. He might be dropping down that very night. He might step in
among the players, unnoticed, unseen, and wait there for the moment of
surprise and action.

Slip's mind ransacked the far places of which he had heard: Oklahoma,
the Missouri River, California, the Mexican border, Texas. Far havens
seemed safest, but against their lure he felt the balance of Buck's
comradeship.

Caruthersville had a sporting crowd with money, lots of money. The
people there were liberal spenders, and they liked a square game better
than any other sport in the world. The boat was making good money, big
money. The two partners had only to break even in their own play to make
a big living out of the kitty in the poker tables, and there was always
a big percentage in favour of the boat, because Buck and Slip understood
each other so well. Slip's share often amounted to more in a week than
he had earned in two years up there in the mountains felling trees,
rafting