High above the crenellated stacks of the stricken riverboat, the huge kestril wheeled on the rising river air, the heavy vellum envelope tied to its ankle only slowing it slightly. Driven by its strange telepathic link with its mistress, it stretched its wings and glided, rising and falling, turning and rising again in the early morning sunlight. Finally, it swooped earthward in a long, graceful curve, braking and fluttering to a landing on the bridge rail of the Maid of Orleans. On the deck of the Albert the gambler and the seeress stood gazing at the hawk's antics, a look of anxious hope tracing their faces simultaneously.

The gambler turned to the bridge and strode quietly to the Captain's cabin. He spoke briefly to the Mate, who stood anxious watch over the inert form of the still unconscious Captain.

"I believe I may be of some assistance, Mister TAM," he sais. "I think I have a notion as to what has occurred here. If I may...". He leant to inspect the small puncture wound on Catspaugh's neck. "It is as I thought. This man has been stricken by an Orinoco bird-dart, a hunting technique known only to a few tribes of native hunters from the upper reaches of the Orinoco basin. I have the privelege of being one of three Europeans ever to have observed the techniques used by these wily savages to prepare these darts, which stun their game for long periods. The second such gentleman was a British explorer. The third was our recent companion, de Mornay, who I believe will be being assisted out of the river shortly. Fortunately, I also had the provelege of studying the antidotes used by the local brujo in their villages."

He reached in a pocket and brought out a small, ornate tin, which he opened to reveal a dollop of dark, tar-like alve. He applied it to the puncture wound, the temples, and the middle of the forehead of the unconscious officer, and put the tin away.

He turned his gaze toward the open river outside the open deck and saw the kestril returning. The Maid of Ohio had suddenly slowed, her driving wheel still in the water, and sudden activity could be seen on her decks as hands lowered a small boat over the quarter. In short order, the longboat was making rapid way toward the distant figure of the exhausted Mornay. The gambler smiled.

"The Captain will be himself by morning, Mister Mate. I suggest you call down to your good engineer and make those boilers ready. We will be having visitors alongside in a short while, or I miss my guess."

The Maid's catboat could be seen again stretching her long sweeps, and he bows turned not back to her own vessel but toward the Albert. As she made her way across the broad waters, two figures , tiny in the distance, could be seen seated on the for'd thwart. One, huddled and soaking, was the actor, de Mornay.

The other was none other than the flame-topped, swaggering, hard-cussin', two-fisted, half-alligator and half-sea-turtle skipper of the Maid herself, Steamboat Mary Greene, the Scourge of the Mississippi.