A bitter smile played over the face of the Missourian.  “You preach.  Yet you yourself are lawless as the worst law-breakers.  Who made our laws—­you, or the whole people of this country?  And if God is your court, why did you have no better aid to-night.  It’s the long arm wins.  You see, we will fight.”

“That I agree.  It’s force that wins, but not brute force.  You will see.”

“Argument!” exclaimed Dunwody.  “The answer is here at our feet—­it’s in blood.”

“So be it then!” said the other solemnly.  “If it means war, let it be war.  I admit that we have a fugitive slave on board—­a young woman—­I suppose that was the excuse for your attack.”

“It was the cause of it; and we intend to take her,” answered Dunwody.  “We didn’t intend to use violence unless it was necessary.  But as to you, will you take your boat below and out of this country?”

“I will not.”

“Very well, then, we’ll take you from your own boat, and we’ll make her pay the penalty.”

“By what right?”

“By the right of the long arm, since you insist.”

“You would make us prisoners—­without any process of law whatever!”

“You can thresh that out in your own courts later, if you like,” said Dunwody.  “Meantime, we’ll see if I can’t find a place that will hold you.”

“Jamieson,” he called out an instant later; “Clayton; come here.  Take the roll of these men,” he went on.  “If any of them want to drop the thing at this point and go back, let them give parole.  They’ll have to agree to leave and never come back here again.”

“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.”