“‘Good; That’s lucky; but have you matured any plan to crib the game?’ “‘Yes.’ “Then they began to talk in a whisper, and the young lady could not hear all that was said; but ever and anon she could catch a word such as ‘Throttle him--chuck him overboard--dead men keep secrets--revenge--old grudge--he ruined me--money good--revenge better--could steal his money--but rather have his life.’ Then they whispered for a long time in tones so low that the young lady could not hear what was said. Now, gentlemen, I guess you will indorse me when I say it is diabolical. Who is to be the victim? who is to be chucked overboard? That is the question, gentlemen. It may be you, or you, or you, or it may be me. What’s to be done? That’s the question I put; shall we sit still and wait for the catastrophe; or shall we go to work and prevent it?” “I can answer for one,” said Scottie, in a tone of firmness, as she rose from her seat: “I shall leave this boat as soon as we reach Vicksburg, and make my way to my father’s house at Jackson, Mississippi; I wash my hands of this nonsense.” “If Scottie leaves the boat at Vicksburg,” observed Ivanhoe, “I am inclined to the opinion that another passenger will feel it his duty to fall back, too.” “I’ll fight it out on this line if it takes all summer,” said George III. as he walked round, describing a circle of fifteen feet. “The man who chucks me overboard shall go along with me; and who robs me of my purse, only cheats himself, and does not make me poor, indeed; because that has already been done long, long ago.” “A man would be an expert pickpocket indeed who could steal a purse from me,” said Ivanhoe; “I have had no use for an article of that sort for many years; Scottie can testify truly.” “I don’t suppose you have had any use for a purse since Confederate money went down,” replied Scottie. “I think we had better consult Captain Quitman about this matter,” suggested Ingomar. “Certainly, sir, I agree with you there,” observed the old gentleman with the white whiskers, “and if you will wait a moment I will bring him here.” Captain Quitman soon appeared accompanied by the old gentleman. “Well,” said the captain, “what’s the question to be discussed?” The old man related, in a rambling manner, what the young lady in the black domino had heard. When he had finished the narrative, he began to stroke his long white whiskers with his left hand. “What do you think of that, sir? Yes, yes, that’s the question, Captain Quitman; what do you think of that, sir?” “Gammon, sir! all gammon!” muttered the captain, as he lighted a fresh cigar and began to puff the smoke in clouds above the old gentleman’s head.