ee drunkenness out here," said Jim, in a low
tone.

"There's lots of it. I saw that fellow yesterday when he couldn't
walk. Wentz told me he was a bad customer."

The teamster, his red face bathed in perspiration, and his sleeves
rolled up, showing brown, knotty arms, lurched toward them. As they
met he aimed a kick at the dog; but Mose leaped nimbly aside,
avoiding the heavy boot. He did not growl, nor show his teeth; but
the great white head sank forward a little, and the lithe body
crouched for a spring.

"Don't touch that dog; he'll tear your leg off!" Joe cried sharply.

"Say, pard, cum an' hev' a drink," replied the teamster, with a
friendly leer.

"I don't drink," answered Joe, curtly, and moved on.

The teamster growled something of which only the word "parson" was
intelligible to the brothers. Joe stopped and looked back. His gray
eyes seemed to contract; they did not flash, but shaded and lost
their warmth. Jim saw the change, and, knowing what it signified,
took Joe's arm as he gently urged him away. The teamster's shrill
voice could be heard until they entered the fur-trader's cabin.

An old man with long, white hair flowing from beneath his
wide-brimmed hat, sat near the door holding one of Mrs. Wentz's
children on his knee. His face was deep-lined and serious; but
kindness shone from his mild blue eyes.

"Mr. Wells, this is my brother James. He is a preacher, and has come
in place of the man you expected from Williamsburg."

The old minister arose, and extended his hand, gazing earnestly at
the new-comer meanwhile. Evidently he approved of what he saw in his
quick scrutiny of the other's face, for his lips were wreathed with
a smile of welcome.

"Mr. Downs, I am glad to meet you, and to know you will go with me.
I thank God I shall take into the wilderness one who is young enough
to carry on the work when my days are done."

"I will make it my duty to help you in whatsoever way lies in my
power," answered Jim, earnestly.

"We have a great work before us. I have heard many scoffers who
claim that it is worse than folly to try to teach these fierce
savages Christianity; but I know it can be done, and my heart is in
the work. I have no fear; yet I would not conceal from you, young
man, that the danger of going among these hostile Indians must be
great."

"I will not hesitate because of that. My sympathy is with the
redman. I have had an opportunity of studying Indian nature and
believe the