_," said the zealot. "Fust tell us: Ef ye _mowt_ sperit a
niggeh off to Canady would ye aw wouldn't ye?"

For an instant the player stood mute and then he said only, in a
preoccupied tone: "Please let me pass." But at the same time he laid his
unexpected left hand lightly on the questioner and by some stage trick
sent him stumbling aside along a line of chairs and toppling to the
floor. The cub and the younger clerks had him up in a twinkling, while a
dozen men appeared from the boiler deck as if by magic, and the player
walked away down the cabin.

"Now, no more noise here," said the second clerk to the lifted man,
restraining both his arms. "No, you stay right here. He didn't do a
thing to you, you just stepped a little too spry and sort o' tripped
up."

From his window shelf the first clerk, in the tail of his eye, saw the
zealot and his group disperse while he, the clerk, talked laughingly to
the soldier on one subject and gravely to the statesman on another.

"You can't challenge a man, general," he said, "who apologizes for
calling you a poor peacemaker."

"By--! s-sir, I can and I sh-shall!" was the retort.

The clerk ignored it. He and the senator bent heads together again.
"No," he said, "Hugh only told him he _feared_ it was Basile. In fact,
it wasn't. It isn't."

"Who is it, then? It's a passenger and a bad case."

"Will you keep it dark--by the patient's own request--till the show's
over to-night?"

The senator nodded. The two heads came closer. The general scorned to
listen. The name did not reach him.

"Jove!" gasped the senator. "Come, general." They went.

The first clerk turned to the second clerk's elbow at the high desk,
saying dryly: "They came to demand those shooting-irons and couldn't
muster the brass."

XXXV

UNSETTLED WEATHER

Again the _Votaress_ was passing the Westwood and again was but a short
mile behind the _Antelope_.

Led by Ramsey, the amateur players, including Hugh, had stopped
rehearsing and were on the skylight roof, gathered about the commodore,
the Gilmores, and the bell. In their company, though below them on the
forward hurricane deck, the first mate leaned bulkily against the roof
on which they stood. It was his watch. Ned was up at the wheel.

As early as the evening before, a good hundred and fifty miles back down
the river, the _Antelope_, it will be remembered, had been close on the
_Westwood's_ heels. So Gilmore reminded his wife. So Hugh needl