real thing out of New Madrid----"

"Doss, Renald Doss. He said he was a sportsman----"

"Oh, he is, all right, he's a familiar type here on the river. He's the
kind of a sport who hunts men, Up-the-Bankers and game of that kind.
He's a very successful hunter, too----"

"He said we'd hunt wild geese. We went up Obion River, and had lots of
fun, and he said he'd help--he'd help----"

"Find your wife?"

"Yes, sir."

Carline was abject. Terabon, however, was caught wordless. This man was
the husband of the woman for whose sake he had ventured among the
desperate river rats, and now he realized that he had succeeded in the
task she had set him. Looking back, he was surprised at the ease of its
accomplishment, but he was under no illusions regarding the jeopardy he
had run. He had trusted to his aloofness, his place as a newspaper man,
and his frankness, to rescue Carline, and he had brought him away.

"You're all righ now," Terabon suggested. "I guess you've had your
lesson."

"A whole book full of them!" Carline cried. "I owe you something--an
apology, and my thanks! Where are we going?"

"I was taking you down to a Memphis hospital, or to Mendova----"

"I don't need any hospital. I'm broke; I must get some money. We'll go
to Mendova. I know some people there. I've heard it was a great old
town, too! I always wanted to see it."

Terabon looked at him; Carline had learned nothing. For a minute remorse
and comprehension had flickered in his mind, now he looked ahead to a
good time in Mendova, to sight-seeing, sporting around, genial friends,
and all the rest. Argument would do no good, and Terabon retreated from
his position as friend and helper to that of an observer and a recorder
of facts. Whatever pity he might feel, he could not help but perceive
that there was no use trying to help fools.

It was just dusk when they ran into Mendova. The city lights sparkled as
they turned in the eddy and ran up to the shanty-boat town. They dropped
an anchor into the deep water and held the boat off the bank by the
stern while they ran a line up to a six-inch willow to keep the bow to
the bank. The springy, ten-foot gangplank bridged the gap to the shore.

More than thirty shanty-boats and gasolene cruisers were moored along
that bank, and from nearly every one peered sharp eyes, taking a look at
the newcomers.

"Hello, Terabon!" someone hailed, and the newspaper man turned,
surprised. One never does get over that fee