“Or at New Orleans—unless he is luckier than I ever knew even Cal to be.”
“Whatever do you mean?” inquired Aunt Lucinda in tones ominously deep.
“That the Belle Helène is much faster than the tug we left behind at Natchez, even did he find it. He will have hard work to catch us.”
“To catch us?”
“Yes, Helena, to catch us. Of course he’ll follow in some way. I have, all the way from above Dubuque. Why should not he?”
The ladies looked from me to each other, doubting my sanity, perhaps.
“I don’t just understand all this,” began Helena. “But since we travel only as we like, and only with guests whom we invite or who are invited by the boat’s owner, I shall ask you to put us ashore.”
“On a sand-bar, Helena? Among the alligators?”
“Of course I mean at the nearest town.”
“There is none where we are going, my dear Miss Emory. Little do you know what lies before you! Black Bart heads for the open sea. Let yon varlet follow at his peril. Believe me, ’twill cost him a very considerable amount of gasoline.”