Vance’s plan was to escape down the river in his little steam-tug, and join some one of the blockading fleet of the United States, either at Pass à l’Outre or at the Balize. The unexpected accession of two fellow-fugitives led him to postpone his departure from the St. Charles to nine o’clock. His own and Kenrick’s baggage had been providently put on board the Artful Dodger the day before. Winslow, in order not to jeopard any of the proceedings, had accepted Vance’s offer to get from the latter’s supply whatever articles of apparel he might need. At ten minutes before nine, the four fugitives met in Vance’s room. Vance and Onslow grasped each other by the hand. That silent pressure conveyed to each more than words could ever have told. The sympathy between them was at once profound and complete. “The negro who is to drive us,” said Vance, “is the man to whom your father confided his last messages.” “Ah!” exclaimed Onslow; “let me be with him. Let me learn from him all I can!” Vance told him he should ride on the outside with Peek. Then turning to Winslow, he said: “Those white locks of yours are somewhat too conspicuous. Do me the favor to hide them under this black wig.” The disguise was promptly carried into effect. At nine o’clock Vance put his head out of the window. A rain-storm had set in, but he could see by the gas-lights the glistening top of a carriage, and he could hear the stamping of horses. “All right,” said he. “Peek is punctually on the spot. Does that carpet-bag contain all your baggage, Mr. Onslow?” “Yes, and I can dispense with even this, if you desire it.” “You have learnt one of the first arts of the soldier, I see,” said Vance. “There can be no harm in your taking that amount. Now let me frankly tell you what I conceive to be our chief, if not our only hazard. My venerable friend, here, Winslow, was compelled, a few hours since, in the discharge of his duty, to give very dire offence to Mr. Carberry Ratcliff, of whom we all have heard. Knowing the man as I do, I am of opinion that his first step on parting with our friend would be to put spies on his track, with the view of preventing his departure or concealment. Mr. Winslow thinks Ratcliff could not have had time to do this. Perhaps; but there’s a chance my venerable friend is mistaken, and against that contingency I wish to be on my guard. You see I take in my hand this lasso, and this small cylindrical piece of wood, padded with india-rubber at either end. Three of us, I presume, have revolvers; but I hope we shall have no present use for them. You, Mr. Winslow, will go first and enter the carriage; Kenrick and I will follow at ten or a dozen paces, and you, Onslow, will bring up the rear. In your soldier’s overcoat, and with your carpet-bag, it will be supposed you are merely going out to pass the night at the armory.”