herous stream. Scott and
his companions always gave the river the name the Sioux had long ago
given it because of its sudden, ravening floods and its deadly traps
laid for such unwary men or animals as trusted its peaceful promise
and slept within reach of its cruel power.

Standing in the glow of the evening sky in this land where the clear,
bright light seemed to lift him high above the earth, Bucks looked at
the yellow flood long and thoughtfully--as well he might--for the best
of his life was to be spent within ken of its flow and to go in doing
battle with it himself, or in sending faithful men to its battling,
sometimes to perish within its merciless currents.

Next morning as the party, following a trail along the bluffs, rode up
in the direction of the contractors' camps they discerned out on the
river bottom a motley cluster of tents and shanties pitched under a
hill. A number of flatboats lay in the backwater behind the bend and a
quantity of ties corded along the bank indicated a loading-place, but
no one seemed to be doing any loading. The few men that could be seen
in the distance appeared to be loafing in the sunshine along the
straggling street-way that led to the river. Stanley checked his
horse.

"What place is that?" he demanded of Scott.

"That," returned the guide, "is Sellersville."

"Sellersville," echoed Stanley. "What is Sellersville?"

"Sellersville is where they bring most of the ties for the boats."

"Have they started a town down there on the bottoms?"

"They have started enough saloons and gambling dens to get the money
from the men that are chopping ties."

Stanley contemplated for a moment the ill-looking settlement. A mile
farther on they encountered a number of men following the trail up
the river.

A small dog barked furiously at the Stanley party as they came up, and
acted as if he were ready to fight every trooper in the detail. He
dashed back and forth, barking and threatening so fiercely that every
one's attention was drawn to him.

Stanley stopped the leader and found he was a tie-camp foreman from
up-river taking men to camp. "Is that your dog?" demanded Stanley,
indicating the belligerent animal who seemed set upon eating somebody
alive.

"Why, yes," admitted the foreman philosophically. "He sort o' claims
me, I guess."

"What do you keep a cur like that around for?"

"Can't get rid of him," returned the foreman. "He is no good, but the
boys like his impudence.