"Hello!" he called.
There was no immediate answer to his hail, and he called again as
he sent the skiff forward. He felt that he was risking all now.
"What do you want?" asked a surly voice.
"You want Slosson!" quickly prompted the girl in a whisper.
"I want to see Slosson!" said Carrington glibly and with
confidence, and once more he checked the skiff.
"Who be you?"
"Murrell sent you," prompted the girl again, in a hurried
whisper.
"Murrell--" And in his astonishment Carrington spoke aloud.
"Murrell?" cried the voice sharply.
"--sent me!" said Carrington quickly, as though completing an
unfinished sentence. The girl laughed nervously under her
breath.
"Row closter!" came the sullen command, and the Kentuckian did as
he was bidden. Four men stood in the bow of the keel boat, a
lantern was raised aloft and by its light they looked him over.
There was a moment's silence broken by Carrington, who asked:
"Which one of you is Slosson?" And he sprang lightly aboard the
keel boat.
"I'm Slosson," answered the man with the lantern. The previous
night Mr. Slosson had been somewhat under the enlivening and
elevating influence of corn whisky, but now he was his own
cheerless self, and rather jaded by the passing of the hours
which he had sacrificed to an irksome responsibility. "What word
do you fetch from the Captain, brother?" he demanded.
"Miss Malroy is to be taken down river," responded Carrington.
Slosson swore with surpassing fluency.
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