“None whatever, sir. She was undoubtedly dead.”
“Peek, you have a claim upon me henceforth. At present I’ve but little money with me, but what I have you must take.”
“Not a penny, sir! You’ll need it more than I. Mr. Vance and Mr. Winslow have supplied me with ten times as much as I shall require.”
Onslow said no more. For the first time in his life he felt that a negro could be a gentleman and his equal.
“Peek,” said he, “you may refuse my money, but you must not refuse my friendship and respect. Promise me you will seek me if I can ever aid you. Nay, promise me you will visit me when you can.”
“That I do cheerfully, sir. Here we are close by the steam-tug.”
Peek pulled up the horses, and he and Onslow jumped to the ground. The door was opened, and those inside got out. The detective, who was the principal man of his order in New Orleans (Myers himself), and whose mortification at being overreached by a non-professional person was extreme, made a desperate effort to escape. Vance was ready for it. He simply twisted the lasso till Myers cried out with pain and promised to submit. Then pitching him on board the steam-tug, Vance left him under the guard of Kenrick and the Captain. Winslow followed them on board; and Vance, turning to Peek, said: “Now, Peek, drive for dear life, and take back your horses. Our danger is almost over; but yours is just beginning.”
“Never fear for me, Mr. Vance. I could leave the horses and run, in case of need. Do not forget the telegraph wires.”
“Well thought of, Peek! Farewell!”
They interchanged a quick, strong grasp of the hand, and Peek jumped on the box and drove off.