airs," reminded Charlie.

"Bob's thinkin' o' that girl," surmised the mate, openly, as Burroughs
looked longingly toward the _Fontenelle_.

The boats, obstructed by the bar, were delayed the better part of two
days, and came to feel quite neighborly. The enamoured Burroughs made
another call, but he came back with a grievance.

"She wanted to know who the fellow was with the complexion like a
girl's. I told her that if she meant Danvers," here he turned toward the
object of his comment, "that he was nothin' but a private in the
Canadian North West Mounted Police. She wasn't interested then,"
maliciously.

"Army girls don't look at anything under a lieutenant, you bet!"
seconded Toe String Joe. "She probably won't even take any notice of
me!"

"She'd heard, through the captain, about the 'hero' who saved Charlie's
sister, and she wanted to know all about it," sneered Burroughs.

"Did you tell her how the railin' happened to break?" insinuated
Charlie.

Philip Danvers remembered the fling. However, what did it matter what
Miss Thornhill thought of him or his position? He would probably never
meet her. Yet as the _Far West_ followed the _Fontenelle_ up the river,
he watched the girl's face turned, seemingly, toward him; and as the
first steamer disappeared around a bend, the alluring eyes seemed like
will-o'-the-wisps drawing him on. As he turned, other eyes, soft and
affectionate, were upraised to his, and a child's hand crept into his
with mute sympathy.

And thus by following the endless turn and twist of the erratic
Missouri; warping over rapids and sticking on sand-bars; running by
banks undermined by the flood; shaving here a shore and hugging there a
bar; after the tie-ups to clean the boilers, or to get wood, or to wait
for the high winds to abate; after perils by water and danger from
roving Indians, the _Far West_ swung around the last curve of the river
and behold--Fort Benton. The passengers cheered; the crowds on the
levees answered, while fluttering flags blossomed from boat and adobe
fort and trading posts as wild roses blossom in spring.

"Whew!" whistled the doctor, wiping his forehead as he joined Philip and
Latimer on the prow of the steamer. "It's warm. Here we are, at last. I
wish," turning to Danvers, "that you were going to stay here. Latimer
and I will miss you."

"Indeed we shall!" echoed the young lawyer. "Here we've just gotten to
be friends and you must leave us. But you must write,