verbal best of the controversy.

Nan's ears burned and tears stood in her eyes. Uncle Henry descended to
personal threats and the smaller man called out:

"You jest put your hand on me, you big, overgrown sawney! That's all I'm
a-waitin' for. You 'tack me and I'll have you in the caboose, sure's my
name's Gedney Raffer. Try it!"

The quarrel was most distressing. Nan pulled at her uncle's coat sleeve.
The rough men eyed her curiously. She had never felt so ashamed in her
life.

"Do come, Uncle Henry," she whispered. "I'm cold."

That statement started the fuming giant at once. Nan's sensitiveness
to a rude quarrel did not impress the man; but her sensitiveness to the
weather shocked him immediately.

"My goodness, girl! We'll go right up to the hotel," he said, kindly.
"Any of you fellows seen Rafe or Tom in town this morning with the sled
and roans?"

"Hey, Hen!" cried the station master, waving a yellow paper. "Here's a
telegraph despatch for you."

It was really for Nan, and from Papa Sherwood filed just before the
Afton Castle sailed from New York:

"Momsey and papa send love and kisses. Be cheerful and good. Write
often. We think of you always. Kind wishes for Henry, Kate and boys.
We look forward to fair voyage and safe landing. Will cable from other
side. Expect happy meeting in spring. R. and J. Sherwood."

"They got a good start," commented Uncle Henry, putting all thought of
his quarrel with Ged Raffer behind him at once. "We'll hope they have a
safe voyage. Now! Where are those boys of mine?"

The town of Hobart Forks was by no means a lumber town. Millions of feet
of timber was boomed on the river within the limits of the town every
season, and there were great mills along the banks of the stream, too.
But there were other industries, as well as churches, amusement places
and many pleasant dwellings. It was no settlement of "slab shanties"
with a few saloons and a general store. Nan had yet to see this latter
kind of settlement.

But what she saw about the central market place of Hobart Forks opened
her eyes considerably to an appreciation of the rough country she had
come to, and the rough people to be met therein.

The storekeepers she saw through the frosted windows were dressed like
storekeepers in Tillbury; and there were well dressed women on the
streets, a few, at least.

But most of the men striding through the snow were as roughly dressed as
her uncle, and not many were as good lo