s to be a mighty populous river up this way, hey, Mapes?" he
remarked genially. "Castaways round every bend."

"What do you mean? Have you picked up others?"

"Certainly have. Hit a keel-boat twenty miles below."

"A keel-boat, operated by steam?"

"Couldn't say as to that. Was it, Mapes? The craft had gone down when
I got on deck. Had four aboard, but we got 'em all off, an' stowed 'em
back there in the texas. You better get along now, and shuck those wet
clothes."

CHAPTER XIX

ON BOARD THE _ADVENTURER_

The captain turned rather sharply away, and I was thrust through an
open cabin door by the grasp of the mate before I could really sense
the true meaning of this unexpected news. Mapes paused long enough to
gruffly indicate a coarse suit of clothes draped over a stool, and was
about to retire without further words, when I recovered sufficiently
from the shock to halt him with a question.

"I suppose you saw those people picked up from the keel-boat?"

"Sure; helped pull 'em aboard. A damned queer combination, if you ask
me; two nigger wenches, Joe Kirby, an' a deputy sheriff from down Saint
Louee way."

"Two women, you say? both negresses?"

"Well, thet whut Joe sed they wus, an' I reckon he knew; an' neither ov
'em put up a holler whin he sed it. However one ov 'em looked ez white
as enybody I ever saw. The deputy he tol' ther same story--sed they
wus both slaves thet Kirby got frum an ol' plantation down below; som'
French name, it wus. Seems like the two wenches hed run away, an' the
deputy hed caught 'em, an' wus a takin' 'em back. Kirby cum 'long ter
help, bein' as how they belonged ter him."

"You knew Kirby then?"

"Hell, ov course. Thar ain't many river men who don't, I reckon. What
is it to you?"

"Nothing; it sounds like a strange story, that's all. I want to get
this wet stuff off, and will be out on deck presently."

I was shivering with the cold, and lost no time shifting into the warm,
dry clothing provided, spreading out my own soaked garments over the
edge of the lower bunk, but careful first to remove my packet of
private papers, which, wrapped securely in oiled silk, were not even
damp. It was a typical steamer bunkhouse in which I found myself,
evidently the abiding place of some one of the boat's petty officers,
exceedingly cramped as to space, containing two narrow berths, a stool
and a washstand, but with ample air and light. The slats across the
window