ought the
levees, where the bustle and hustle of the frontier town were most
apparent. Early as it was, the river-front was thronged with river-men,
American and English soldiers; traders, busy, preoccupied and alert;
clerks, examining and checking off goods; bull-whackers and
mule-skinners; wolfers and trappers, half-breeds and Indians, gamblers
and squaws--all constantly shifting and reforming into kaleidoscopic
groups and jovial comradeship.

Everywhere he encountered the covert hostility toward the English, but
it was not until late in the afternoon that it became openly manifest.

"Hi there!" a staggering man hiccoughed as he turned to follow Philip
and his American friends.

"Go slow, so's folks c'n take yeh in. I'm goin' to kick yeh off'n the
face of the earth," he continued, prodding uncertainly at Danvers.
"Stop, I tell yeh! Why do I want yeh to walk slow? 'Cos (hic) I want to
wipe the road up with yer English hide. Yeh think yeh're all ri', but
yeh ain't. Yeh look's if yeh owned the town, an' yeh're walk's
convincin', yeh----"

"That's Wild Cat Bill," said the kindly man of drugs, seeking to remove
the sting whose effect Danvers only partially succeeded in concealing,
as they outdistanced the drunken man. "He's ostensibly a wolfer, a man
who kills wolves by scattering poisoned buffalo meat on the prairies in
winter, you know," he interjected, "and then makes his rounds later to
gather up the dead wolves which have feasted not wisely, but too well.
He's a great friend of Sweet Oil Bob's."

Before Danvers had time to speak they passed Burroughs in close
conversation with Toe String Joe.

"Those three! Bob and Joe and Bill!" snorted the doctor contemptuously.
"You'll likely see considerable of Bob's friends if he goes to Macleod.
He might be 'most anything he liked--he's clever enough, but
unscrupulous. He's crafty enough to get the most of his work done by his
confreres. He can speak English as well as I can, but he thinks bad
grammar will give him a stand-in with the frontiersmen. And it's easy
for a man to live on a lower level. He'll be sorry some day to find
himself out of practice, when the right girl comes along."

"Here he comes--he's behind us," warned Latimer.

As Burroughs passed them he threw a glance of triumph that was
unexplainable until a corner turned brought to view Major Thornhill,
also walking abroad, accompanied by his daughter. Burroughs, smooth,
ingratiating, joined them as if by