“Certainly,” replied Warren, “You shall not be separated.” The girl heaved a deep sigh of content. “I will go with you to your home gladly.” Judah was as pleased as Winona when told of the plans for the future. Each looked upon Warren Maxwell as a god. Judah went with him to the mainland. Winona saw him depart bravely. She watched the boat until they effected a landing. Once he turned and waved his hat toward the spot where she was standing. When he was no longer visible she threw herself down upon the new-made grave in an abandonment of grief, weeping passionately. * * * * * One month from that day Warren Maxwell, bright, smiling and filled with pleasurable anticipations drew rein again before the Grand Island Hotel. As before, ’Tavius was there to take his horse; Mr. Maybee met him at the door; but about them both was an air of restraint. “Well, Mr. Maybee,” he said gaily, “How are you, and how are my island protéges? I’ll row over after dinner and surprise them.” “Come with me, Mr. Maxwell, I have something to tell you,” replied his host gravely. Surprised at his solemn manner, Warren followed him to the chamber he had occupied on the occasion of his first visit. “It’s a sorry tale sir, I must tell you; and in all my life I never befo’ felt ashamed of bein’ an American citizen. But I can be bought cheap, sir; less than half price’ll git me.” “The day after you lef’ thar was a claim put in by two men who had been stoppin’ roun’ hyar fer a month or more lo-catin thar game, the durned skunks. They was the owners of White Eagle’s wife an’ Judah’s mother, sir--nigger traders from Missouri, sir. They puts in a claim fer the two children under the new act for the rendition of fugitive slaves jes’ passed by Congress, an’ they swep’ the deck before we knowed it or had time to say ‘scat.’ Ef we’d had the least warnin’, Mr. Maxwell, we’d a slipped the boy an’ gal over to Canidy in no time, but you never know where a sneakin’ nigger thief is goin’ to hit ye, ’tain’t like fightin’ a man. Before we knowed it they had ’em as slick as grease an’ was gone.” “But how could they take the children? They were both born free. It was an illegal proceeding,” cried Warren in amazement.” “The child follows the condition of the mother. That’s the law.” “My God, Mr. Maybee,” exclaimed Warren as a light broke in upon his mind. “Where is she now--the poor, pretty child?” “Down on a Missouri plantation, held as a slave!” “My God!” Warren gazed at him for a time bereft of speech, dazed by a calamity too great for his mind to grasp. “My God! can such things be?” CHAPTER IV.