"Sure; he's friend' o' mine. Shave him myself soon's I git sober. Stand most whisky all righ', but damn if I kin this kind--only hed three drinks, tha's all---whut's thet? Yer can't wait? Oh, all righ' then, take it yerself. Mighty fin' razor, ol' man." Rale found me a tin basin, water, a bit of rag for a towel, and a small, cracked mirror, in which my reflection was scarcely recognizable. He was a man of few words, contenting himself with uttering merely a dry comment on Kennedy, who had dropped back into a convenient chair, and buried his face on the table. "Tim's a damn good fellow, an' I never saw him so blame drunk afore," he said, regretfully. "Know'd him et Saint Louee; used ter drop in ter my place. He an' Kirby hed a row, an' I reckon thet's whut started him drinkin'." "A row; a quarrel, you mean?" forgetting myself in surprise. "Who's Kirby?" "Joe Kirby; yer sure must know him, if yer a river man. Slim sorter feller, with a smooth face; slickest gambler ever wus, I reckon." "Why, of course," getting control of myself once more. "We picked him up, 'long with Tim, down river. Hed two women with 'em, didn't they? runaway niggers?" Rale winked facetiously, evidently rather proud of the exploit as it had been related to him. "Wal', ther way I understan', they wa'n't both of 'em niggers; however, that was the story told on board. This yere Joe Kirby is pretty damn slick, let me tell you. One of 'em's a white gurl, who just pretended she wus a nigger. I reckon thet even Kirby didn't catch on ter her game et furst; an' when he did he wus too blame smart ter ever let her know. She don't think he knows yet, but she's liable fer ter find out mighty soon." "But he cannot hold a white woman," I protested stoutly. "Can't, hey! Wal', I reckon there are ways o' even doin' thet, an' if thar be, Kirby'll find it. They say thar's mor'n one way ter skin a cat, an' Joe never cut his eye teeth yisterday, let me tell yer. Thet gurl's not only white--she's got money, scads ov it, and is a good looker. I saw her, an' she's some beaut; Joe ain't passin' up nuthin' like that. I reckon she won't find no chance ter raise a holler fore he's got her tied good an' strong." I stared blankly at the fellow, a thousand questions in my mind, and a dim perception of what he meant permeating my brain. "Do you mean," I asked, horrified, "that he will compel her to marry him?" "Sum smart little guesser, ain't yer? I reckon she's in a right smart way ter do it, et thet." "And wus this the cause of the quarrel between Kirby and Kennedy?"