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Nelia Crele, alias Nelia Carline, was the woman, and they were both stopping over at the Island No. 10 sandbar. He knew, what the fish-dock man probably did not know, that the pursuer was the woman's husband. "What'll I tell her?" Terabon asked himself. With that question he uncovered an unsuspected depth to his feelings. It was a dark, dull day.
She found another woman who knew the ropes there and who was glad to help her play the game. From a distance Nelia Crele discovered that Terabon was with Carline, her own husband. She dismissed him with a shrug of her shoulders, and told her companion to take care of him.
Crele there said I should be sure and tell his daughter, if I happened to meet her, that her mother wanted her to be sure and write and let her know how she is getting along." "Oh, I'll do that," she assured him. "I was just writing home when you landed in. Isn't it strange how everybody knows everybody down here, and how you keep meeting people you know that you've heard about?
"You write for newspapers?" she repeated. She came and sat down on the bow deck of his skiff, frankly curious and interested. "My name's Nelia Crele," she smiled. "I'm a shanty-boater. That's my boat." "I'm sure I'm glad to meet you," he bowed, "Mrs. Crele." "You find lots to write about?" "I can't write fast enough," he replied, enthusiastically, "I've been coming six weeks from St. Louis.
Thus began the inauspicious acquaintance of Nelia Crele and Augustus Carline. The shotgun was very useful to the young woman. She killed gray and fox squirrels, wild turkeys, geese and ducks, several saleable fur-bearers, and other game in her neighbourhood. She told no one how she obtained the weapon, merely saying she had found it; and Augustus Carline did not pass any remarks on the subject.
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