us in the party and we had quite a time
making it. Well, reckon I'll be turning in. See you tomorrow."

He walked rapidly toward the cabin, glanced in and then went to his
quarters. Neither Schoolcraft nor the Mexican were to be seen, for they
were in the former's stateroom with a third man, holding a tense and
whispered conversation. The horse-dealer apparently did not agree with
his two companions, for he kept doggedly shaking his head and
reiterating his contentions in drunken stubbornness that, no matter what
had been overheard, Tom Boyd was not going to Oregon, but back to Santa
Fe. He mentioned Patience Cooper several times and insisted that he was
right. While his companions were not convinced that they were wrong
they, nevertheless, agreed that there should be no more knife throwing
until they knew for certain that the young hunter was not going over the
southwest trail.

Schoolcraft leered into the faces of his friends. "You jest wait an'
see!" He wagged a finger at them. "Th' young fool is head over heels in
love with her; an' he'll find it out afore she jines th' Santa Fe waggin
train. Whar she goes, _he'll_ go. I'm drunk; but I ain't so drunk I
don't know that!"

CHAPTER IV.

TOM CHANGES HIS PLANS

Dawn broke dull and cold, but without much wind, and when Tom awakened
he heard the churning of the great paddle wheel, the almost ceaseless
jangling of the engine room bell and the complaining squeaks of the
hard-worked steering gear. A faint whistle sounded from up river, was
answered by the _Missouri Belle_, and soon the latter lost headway while
the two pilots exchanged their information concerning the river. Again
the paddles thumped and thrashed and the boat shook as it gathered
momentum.

On deck he found a few early risers, wrapped in coats and blankets
against the chill of the morning hour. The overcast sky was cold and
forbidding; the boiling, scurrying surface of the river, sullen and
threatening. Going up to the hurricane deck he poked his head in the
pilot house.

"Come on in," said the pilot "We won't go fur today. See that?"

Tom nodded. The small clouds of sand were easily seen by eyes such as
his and as he nodded a sudden gust tore the surface of the river into a
speeding army of wavelets.

"Peterson jest hollered over an' said Clay Point's an island now, an'
that th' cut-off is bilin' like a rapids. Told me to look out for th'
whirlpool. They're bad, sometimes."

"To a boat