The decks throbbed to the increased pulsation of the engine, and I could plainly hear the continuous splash of the great stern wheel as it flung spray high into the air.
I paused a moment, hand gripping the rail, and eyes seeking vainly to peer across the wide expanse of river, really fronting the situation for the first time, and endeavoring to think out calmly some definite course of action.

Thus far, spurred only by necessity, and a sense of obligation, I had merely been blindly grasping at the first suggestion which had occurred to mind.

The emergency had demanded action, rather than reflection.

But now, on cooler consideration, and alone, the result I sought did not appear so apparent, nor so easily attained.
Hitherto, in the midst of the excitement occasioned by Beaucaire's tragic death, my mind had grasped but one idea clearly--if I permitted Kirby to be mobbed and killed by those enraged men, his death would benefit no one; would remedy no wrong.

That mad mob spirit must be fought down, conquered.