"That's an outrage!" broke out the northern leader. "You and your band of ruffians—you talk as though you owned this state, as though this river weren't made as a highway of this continent. Don't you know that not even a river can be owned by an entire state?"
"We own this part of it to-day," rejoined Dunwody simply. "This is our judiciary. These are our legislators whom you see." He slapped his rifle stock, touched a revolver butt at his belt. "You left the highway when you tied up to our shores. The temper of my men is such that you are lucky to have a parole offered to you. You deserve not the treatment of soldiers, but of spies. You disgrace your uniform. These men are only fools. But what do they say, Clayton?" he demanded turning to the latter as he finally returned.
"They consider the expedition at an end," returned the Judge.
"Three of them want to go on home to St. Louis. Yates yonder is
in favor of hanging them all. The boys are bitter about losing
Desha."
Dunwody looked the young leader calmly in the face. "You hear," said he. "But you shall see that we are not such ruffians at heart, in spite of all. It's my intention to conclude this matter as decently as possible."
"The others are willing to return," continued Judge Clayton. "They want to know what their captain intends."
"Their captain does not intend to surrender," rejoined the latter fearlessly. "Let those desert who like."
"I am with you, Captain," quietly said a tall young man, of German accent, who had been foremost in the fighting.
[Illustration: "I am with you, Captain.">[
"Good, Lieutenant Kammerer, I knew you'd stick," commented the leader.
"As to the boat, Judge Clayton," resumed Dunwody, "what shall we do with her?"