of a pipe, that
he was going over to the camp of Akkomi again.

"The fact, is, Max, that the girl we saw yesterday is to go across home
with us. She's a ward of mine."

"What!" demanded Max, sitting bolt upright in his amazement, "a ward of
yours? You say that as though you had several scattered among the tribes
about here. So it is a Kootenai Pocahontas! What good advice was it you
gave me yesterday about keeping clear of Selkirk Range females? And now
you are deliberately gathering one to yourself, and I will be the
unnecessary third on our journey home. Dan! Dan! I wouldn't have thought
it of you!"

Overton listened in silence until the first outburst was over.

"Through?" he asked, carelessly; "well, then, it isn't a Pocahontas; it
isn't an Indian at all. It is only a little white girl whose father
was--was an old partner. Well, he's gone 'over the range'--dead, you
know--and the girl is left to hustle for herself. Naturally, she heard I
was in this region, and as none of her daddy's old friends were around but
me, she just made her camp over there with the Kootenais, and waited till
I reached the river again. She'll go with me down to Sinna; and if she
hasn't any other home in prospect, I'll just locate her there with Mrs.
Huzzard, the milliner-cook, for the present. Now, that's the story."

"And a very pretty little one it is, too," agreed Mr. Max. "For a
backwoodsman, who is not supposed to have experience, it is very well put
together. Oh, don't frown like that! I'll believe she's your
granddaughter, if you say so," and he laughed in wicked enjoyment at
Overton's flushed face. "It's all right, Dan. I congratulate you. But I
wouldn't have thought it."

"I suppose, now," remarked Dan, witheringly, "that by all these remarks
and giggles you are trying to be funny. Is that it? Well, as the fun of it
is not visible to me yet, I'll just keep my laughter till it is. In the
meantime, I'm going over to call on my ward, Miss Rivers, and you can
hustle for funny things around camp until I come back."

"Oh, say, Dan, don't be vindictive. Take me along, won't you? I'll promise
to be good--'pon honor I will. I'll do penance for any depraved suspicions
I may have indulged in. I'll--I'll even shake hands again with Black
Bow, there! Beyond that, I can think of no more earnest testimony of
repentance."

"I shall go by myself," decided Overton. "So make a note of it, if you see
the young lady before to-morrow, it will b