away in evident satisfaction. I had chanced to meet him only twice
before, yet he was a well-known character between St. Louis and Prairie
du Chien; rough enough to be sure, from the very nature of his calling,
but generous and straightforward.

"Evidently all of your passengers are not miners, Captain," I ventured,
for want of something better to say. "Those two standing there at the
stern, for instance."

He turned and looked, shading his eyes, the smoking pipe in one hand.

"No," he said, "that big man is Judge Beaucaire, from Missouri. He has
a plantation just above St. Louis, an old French grant. He went up
with me about a month ago---my first trip this season--to look after
some investment on the Fevre, which I judge hasn't turned out very
well, and has been waiting to go back with me. Of course you know the
younger one."

"Never saw him before."

"Then you have never traveled much on the lower river. That's Joe
Kirby."

"Joe Kirby?"

"Certainly; you must have heard of him. First time I ever knew of his
drifting so far north, as there are not many pickings up here. Have
rather suspected he might be laying for Beaucaire, but the two haven't
touched a card coming down."