"No lives lost, you say? What then became of the people who were on board that trading-scow?" "There were only three," answered the Captain; "her owner, a Mr. Caspar, a deck hand, and the cook, a black fellow. The first two saved themselves by leaping aboard this boat just as she struck, and we picked the nigger up in the skiff that we immediately lowered to look for survivors." "You say the owner was a Mr. Caspar?" "Yes, here is the name signed to this paper. You see, though we were in no way to blame, they might have sued for heavy damages and bothered us considerably. So when her owner offered to compromise and waive all claims for three hundred dollars, I thought it was the cheapest way out of the scrape, and took him up. I had this paper prepared by a lawyer who is on board, and witnessed before a notary, so that it is all square and ship-shape. See, here is Mr. Caspar's signature." Sure enough, there at the bottom of the paper exhibited by the Captain was the name "Winn Caspar," written clearly and boldly. It certainly looked like Winn's signature. Billy Brackett was staggered. What could it all mean? Something was evidently wrong; but what it was he could not determine. "Where is this Mr. Caspar now?" he asked. "Went ashore the moment we touched here," was the reply. "Said he must hurry back to St. Louis. Took his man with him." "Was he a young fellow; a mere boy, in fact?" "Oh, bless you, no! He was past middle-age. Small, thin man, with a smooth face; and the other was a big man with a beard." "And what became of the cook, the negro, whom you rescued?" "He's down below somewhere, getting dry. I told the mate to look after him." "But where is my niece Sabella? The little girl that was on board the _Whatnot_," asked Cap'n Cod, with a pitiful quaver in his voice. "Little girl?" repeated the steamboat Captain, in surprise. "There wasn't any girl on board. This is the first mention I have heard of any such person, and Mr. Caspar would surely have spoken of her if she had existed. What are you men driving at, anyway?" With a forced calmness, and ignoring this question, Billy Brackett asked if they might see the rescued negro. "Certainly, I've no objections. Only you'll have to be spry about it, for I'm going to pull out of here inside of a couple of minutes. I only stopped to land Mr. Caspar." They found Solon just getting into his dried clothing, and the faithful fellow's face lighted as he saw them. There was, however, a reproachful tone in his voice as he exclaimed, "T'ank de Lawd, yo' is safe, Marse Cap'n, an' Marse Brack. Ole Solon feelin' mighty bad when yo' ain't comin' to see him, an' Marse Winn too. But dese yeah folk ain't tellin' me nuffin of Missy Sabel. She gettin' saved same as de res' of us, ain't she? Say de good word, Marse Cap'n, an' don't tell de ole man dat honey lamb done got drownded. Don't tell him dat ar?"