s could not understand his very evident perturbation. If took
a great deal of explanation on Bobby's part; but finally there was
conveyed to the young riverman's understanding a slight notion of the
situation. To the child the day seemed lost; but Jimmy Powers was more
resourceful. He surveyed his charge thoughtfully.

"You're all right, kid," he announced at last. "Your collar's all right,
and your hair ain't wet. The rest'll dry out so nobody will know the
diff'."

Bobby brightened.

"Won't I catch cold?" he asked doubtfully.

"This kind of weather? Naw!" said Jimmy Powers with scorn. "You rustle
in to the cook shanty and get Corrigan to let you sit by the stove."

Bobby said farewell to his guide, and presented himself to the cook.

"I fell in," he announced, "can I sit by the stove?"

"Sure" said Corrigan hospitably. "Take a cracker-box and go over by the
wood box. Tryin' to ride a log?"

"Yes" confessed Bobby.

"Well, you want to look out for them," warned Corrigan a little vaguely.
He produced the customary cooky. Bobby sat and steamed, and munched and
told about the fish he had almost caught. He liked Corrigan because the
latter talked to him sensibly, without ill-timed facetiousness, as to an
equal. In a moment Duke thrust his muzzle in the door. Bobby looked
hastily down. His clothes were quite dry.

"Don't tell Papa," he begged.

For answer Corrigan portentously winked one eye, and went on peeling
potatoes. After a moment Mr. Orde appeared at the door.

"Bobby here?" he inquired. "Oh yes! Come on, youngster."

Bobby showed himself with considerable trepidation; but apparently Mr.
Orde noticed nothing wrong, and the little boy's spirits rose. The team
was waiting, and they mounted the buggy at once. Duke fell in behind
them soberly. For him the freshness of the expedition was over. It was
now merely a case of get back home.

"Have a good time?" asked Mr. Orde.

Bobby talked busily all the way in. He told principally of the fish,
although the _Lucy Belle_ and Jimmy Powers came in for a share. From
time to time Mr. Orde said, "That's good," or, "Yes," which sufficed
Bobby. Probably, however, the man heard little of his son's talk. His
mind was very busy with the elements of the game he was playing, sorting
and arranging them, figuring how to earn and borrow the money necessary
to permit his taking advantage of a chance he thought he saw in the
western timber lands. He heard little, to be sure, a