anced to meet him only twice
before, yet he was a well-known character between St. Louis and Prairie
du Chien; rough enough to be sure, from the very nature of his calling,
but generous and straightforward.

"Evidently all of your passengers are not miners, Captain," I ventured,
for want of something better to say. "Those two standing there at the
stern, for instance."

He turned and looked, shading his eyes, the smoking pipe in one hand.

"No," he said, "that big man is Judge Beaucaire, from Missouri. He has
a plantation just above St. Louis, an old French grant. He went up
with me about a month ago---my first trip this season--to look after
some investment on the Fevre, which I judge hasn't turned out very
well, and has been waiting to go back with me. Of course you know the
younger one."

"Never saw him before."

"Then you have never traveled much on the lower river. That's Joe
Kirby."

"Joe Kirby?"

"Certainly; you must have heard of him. First time I ever knew of his
drifting so far north, as there are not many pickings up here. Have
rather suspected he might be laying for Beaucaire, but the two haven't
touched a card coming down."

"He is a gambler, then?"

"A thoroughbred; works between St. Louis and New Orleans. I can't just
figure out yet what he is doing up here. I asked him flat out, but he
only laughed, and he isn't the sort of man you get very friendly with,
some say he has Indian blood in him, so I dropped it. He and the Judge
seem pretty thick, and they may be playing in their rooms."

"Have you ever told the planter who the other man is?"

"What, me, told him? Well, hardly; I've got troubles enough of my own.
Beaucaire is of age, I reckon, and they tell me he is some poker player
himself. The chances are he knows Kirby better than I do; besides I've
run this river too long to interfere with my passengers. See you again
before we leave; am going up now to have a talk with the Major."

My eyes followed as he disappeared within the open gates, a squatty,
strongly-built figure, the blue smoke from his pipe circling in a cloud
above his head. Then I turned idly to gaze once again down the river,
and observe the groups loitering below. I felt but slight interest in
the conversation just exchanged, nor did the memory of it abide for
long in my mind. I had not been close enough to observe Beaucaire, or
glimpse his character, while the presence of a gambler on the boat was
no such