sy. He was a rugged little chap at the start, did his best to grow, and
bright!"--Tisdale paused, shaking his head, while the humorous lines
deepened--"But he had to be vigorous to carry the name she gave him. Did I
tell you it was Weatherbee Tisdale? Think of shouldering the names of two
full-sized men on that atom. But she picked a nice diminutive out of it--
'Bee.'

"It was a great christening party," he went on reminiscently. "She
arranged it when she passed through Seattle and had several hours to wait
for her train. The ceremony was at Trinity, that stone church on the first
hill, and the Bishop of Alaska, who was waiting too, officiated. I was in
town at the time, getting my outfit together for another season in the
north, but Weatherbee had to assume his responsibilities by proxy."

"Do you mean David Weatherbee was the child's godfather?"

"One of them, yes." Tisdale paused, and his brows clouded. "I wish the boy
had been his own. That would have been his salvation. If David Weatherbee
had had a son, he would be here with us now, to-day."

Miss Armitage was silent. She looked off up the unfolding watercourse, and
the great weariness Tisdale had noticed that hour before dawn settled
again on her face.

He laid his hand on the reins. "You are tired out," he said. "Come, give
the lines to me. You've deceived me with all that fine show of spirits,
but I've been selfish, or I must have seen. The truth is, I've been
humoring this hand."

"You mean," she said quickly, "this vixen did hurt you yesterday more than
you would admit?"

"Oh, no, but the friction of the reins can make even a scratch
uncomfortable after a while, and my glove is getting tight. A little
peroxide, when we reach a pharmacy, will fix it all right."

But Miss Armitage watched him doubtfully. She assured him she was not
tired and that she loved to drive. Had she not told him so at the start?
Then, as they left the promontory, her glance followed the road ahead. The
bridge was no longer fine as a spider web; it was a railroad crossing of
steel, and the long eaves of the Great Northern depot lifted near, flanked
by the business blocks of a town. "Wenatchee!" she exclaimed; and
wavering, asked: "_Isn't_ this Wenatchee?"

"Yes, Miss Armitage, I am afraid that it is. You are back to civilization.
A few minutes more and, if you will give me their address, you will be
safe with your friends."

"I did not say I had any friends in Wenatchee, Mr. T