“But could I not go with you?”

“Hardly with me, for I intend to swim the creek and try to reach the point at the mouth of the Illinois, from where I can see up and down the Mississippi.  I am going to send Sam back through the woods there and have him climb that ridge.  From the top he ought to have a good view up the valley of the Illinois.  I suppose you might go with him.”

“Ah sure wish yer wud, Missus,” broke in the negro pleadingly.  “Ah ain’t perzackly feered fer ter go ‘lone, but Ah’s an’ ol’ man, an’ Ah reckon as how a y’ung gal wus likely fer ter see mor’n Ah wud.  ’Pears like Ah’s done los’ my glasses.”

A faint smile lighted up her face—­a mere glimmer of a smile.

“Yes, Sam, I’ll go,” she said, glancing up into my eyes and holding out her hand.  “You wish me to, do you not?”

“I think it will be fully as well.  I have some doubts as to Sam, but can absolutely trust you.  Besides there is nothing to be done here.  I shall not use the boat, then if anyone does chance this way, they will find nothing disturbed.  You still retain the pistol?”

She nodded her response and without delaying my departure longer, I lowered myself into the water and swam toward the opposite shore, creeping forth amid a tangle of roots, and immediately disappearing in the underbrush.  Sam had already vanished, as I paused an instant to glance back, but she lingered at the edge of the wood to wave her hand.  I found a rough passage for the first few rods, being obliged to almost tear a way through the close growth and unable to see a yard in advance.  But this ended suddenly at the edge of the sand flat, with the converging waters of the two rivers visible just beyond.  My view from here was narrowed, however, by high ridges on both sides, and, with a desire not to expose myself to any chance eye, I followed the line of forest until able to climb the slope, and thus attain the crest of the bluff.

From this vantage point the view was extensive, both up and down the big river, as well as across to the opposite bank.  For miles nothing could escape my eyes, the mighty stream sweeping majestically past where I lay, liquid silver in the sunshine.  Its tremendous volume had never so impressed me as in that moment of silent observation, nor had I ever realized before its sublime desolation.  Along that entire surface but three objects met my gaze—­a small island, green with trees, seemingly anchored just beyond the mouth of the Illinois; a lumbering barge almost opposite me, clearly outlined against the distant shore, and barely moving with the current; and far away below a thin smudge of smoke, arising from behind a headland, as though curling upward from the stack of some steamer.  I watched this closely, until convinced the craft was bound down stream and moving swiftly.  The smudge became a mere whisp and finally vanished entirely.  I waited some time for the vessel to appear at the lower end of the bend, but it was then only a speck, scarcely distinguishable.  I felt no doubt but what this was the stolen keel-boat, speeding toward St. Louis.