“A sham one, I suppose?”
“Well, Peek, so seriously did I play my part, that perhaps I shall go down in history as one of the pro-slavery leaders. John Brown of Ossawatomie would at one time have shot me on sight. He afterwards understood me better,—understood that, if I fraternized with the pro-slavery crew, it was to thwart their schemes. The rascals were continually astounded at finding their bloodiest secrets revealed to the Abolitionists, and little suspected that one of their most trusted advisers was the informer. Yes! I helped on the madness which God sends to those he means to destroy. Baffled in California, the devil of slavery set his heart on establishing his altars in Kansas. How effectually we have headed him off! And now the frenzied idiot wants secession and a slave empire. Heaven forbid I should arrest him in his fatuity! Let me rather help it on.”
“Are you, then, a secessionist, Mr. Vance?”
“In one sense: I’m for secession from slavery by annihilating it, holding on to the Union. I was at the great Nashville convention. I’ve been the last few months watching things here in conservative Louisiana. She will have to follow South Carolina. That little vixen among States cracks the overseer’s whip over our heads, and threatens us with her sovereign displeasure for our timidity. She has nearly frightened poor Governor Moore out of his boots.”
“I’ve been thinking much lately,” said Peek, “of our adventure on board the Pontiac. What ever became of Colonel Delancy Hyde?”
“The Colonel,” replied Vance, “for a time wooed fortune in Kansas, but didn’t win her. Since then I’ve lost him.”
“The last I heard of him,” said Peek, “he had quarrelled with a fellow at a cock-fight in Montgomery, and been wounded; and his sister, a decent woman, was tending on him.”
“I confess I’ve a weakness for the Colonel,” said Vance, “though unquestionably he’s a great scoundrel.”
“Did you ever learn, Mr. Vance, what became of that yellow girl he coveted?”
“She and the child were drowned,” was the reply.