d water."

The guests looked up--gratified but astonished. "Are ye sure, ma'am, you
don't mind it?" said Joe politely.

"Not at all," responded Mrs. Pottinger briefly. "In fact, as my
physician advises the inhalation of tobacco smoke for my asthmatic
difficulties, I will join you." After a moment's fumbling in a beaded
bag that hung from her waist, she produced a small black clay pipe,
filled it from the same receptacle, and lit it.

A thrill of surprise went round the company, and it was noticed that
Prosper seemed equally confounded. Nevertheless, this awkwardness was
quickly overcome by the privilege and example given them, and with, a
glass of whiskey and water before them, the men were speedily at their
ease. Nor did Mrs. Pottinger disdain to mingle in their desultory talk.
Sitting there with her black pipe in her mouth, but still precise and
superior, she told a thrilling whaling adventure of Prosper's father
(drawn evidently from the experience of the lamented Pottinger), which
not only deeply interested her hearers, but momentarily exalted Prosper
in their minds as the son of that hero. "Now you speak o' that, ma'am,"
said the ingenuous Wynbrook, "there's a good deal o' Prossy in that yarn
o' his father's; same kind o' keerless grit! You remember, boys, that
day the dam broke and he stood thar, the water up to his neck, heavin'
logs in the break till he stopped it." Briefly, the evening, in spite
of its initial culinary failure and its surprises, was a decided social
success, and even the bewildered and doubting Prosper went to bed
relieved. It was followed by many and more informal gatherings at the
house, and Mrs Pottinger so far unbent--if that term could be used of
one who never altered her primness of manner--as to join in a game of
poker--and even permitted herself to win.

But by the end of six weeks another change in their feelings towards
Prosper seemed to creep insidiously over the camp. He had been received
into his former fellowship, and even the presence of his mother had
become familiar, but he began to be an object of secret commiseration.
They still frequented the house, but among themselves afterwards they
talked in whispers. There was no doubt to them that Prosper's old mother
drank not only what her son had provided, but what she surreptitiously
obtained from the saloon. There was the testimony of the barkeeper,
himself concerned equally with the camp in the integrity of the Riggs
househol