"Where can we go?—what can we do to get them?—the nearer I get to the end of this thing, I feel almost as though I would go insane," he whispered, at the same time grabbing me by the shoulder as would a petulant child, and shook me until I thought his last statement was conservative.
"The old fox is very sly—doesn't trust any of his help—the stamps are not so important—the seals he keeps in or about his office in New Orleans—our next move is there. Hiram, can you stand a run to New Orleans to-night?" I replied, as though thinking aloud.
He sprang to his feet like a cat and leaned over me.
"I can stand to do anything, without eating or sleeping, if it takes a whole week," he replied with set jaws.
The next morning we tied up at the wharf in New Orleans. During the night I had worked out a plan. There are times when cunning and strategical violations of the law must be matched in order to secure and convict criminals and the courts have uniformly justified it. I was going to take a big chance and finish the job quickly.
I left Hiram on the boat and went to our rooms for the mail, and to get other bearings. When I returned he was walking up and down the wharf like a caged hyena, almost frothing at the mouth.
"We are up against it again—it does beat the devil—why can't they leave us alone for a little while, anyhow?" he demanded, his eyes shooting fire as he stopped stolidly in front of me.
"What is it now, Hiram?"
"It's these damned shipping people—they say we can make two round trips a week to gulf ports for lumber, and if we don't do it willingly they will make us—just take the boat, that's all," he exploded in righteous wrath.