him because of her mother's property. If Kirby marries her, it will
only be through her consent."

He picked up his hat from the table, and a stout stick he had brought
along with him, taking a step toward the door.

"I might as well tell you I consider this a mad scheme," he paused to
add gravely, "and that it will probably fail. There is a possible
chance of success, I admit, and for that reason I permit you to go
ahead with it, and pledge myself to keep the secret. I was rather
intimately associated with Beaucaire for a number of years, and to see
his granddaughter sold into slavery, even if she does have a drop of
nigger blood in her veins, is more than I can stand, without giving her
a chance to get away. That is why I consent to abet a crime, and keep
still about it. But beyond that I'll not go. I am a southerner, Knox;
my father owned slaves. I believe in the system, and have always
upheld it. Nobody in Missouri hates a Black Abolitionist worse than I
do; if anyone had ever said I would help a nigger run away, I'd call
him a liar in a minute. Do you understand the position this damned
affair puts me into?"

"Yes, I do, Haines," and I held out my hand to him, with fresh
cordiality. "It is uncommonly white of you to even go that far. On
the other hand I was brought up to despise slavery. I'll pledge you
this--for Pete here, as well as myself--that if we are caught, your
name shall never be mentioned. Have you any advice to give?"

He paused uncertainly, his hand on the latch, the firelight flashing up
into his face.