The idea of her husband’s honour made the thing absurd to her. There was no such thing as that honour. She had plotted to get Carline out of the way now that she heard he was clear of the pirates. On second thought, she was sorry that she had been so hasty in returning to the boat, wishing that she had followed up Terabon.
She walked out onto the bow deck, and standing in the dark, with her door closed, looked up and down the slough. A dozen boats were in sight. She heard a number of men and women talking in near-by boats, and the few words she heard indicated that the river people had a pretty morsel of gossip in the killing of Palura.
She heard men rustling through the weeds and switch willows of the boatmen’s pathway, and she hailed; she was now a true river woman, though she did not know it.
“Say, boys, do you know if Terabon and Carline landed here to-night?”
“We just landed in,” one answered. “I don’t know.”
“Going up town?”
“Yes––”
“I want to know about them––”
“Hit’s Nelia Crele!” one exclaimed.
“That’s right. Hello, boys—Despard—Jet—Cope!”