oments, and never
allowed from her hands the long squirrel rifle which made a part of her
equipage. She was accompanied by her son, a tall, thin, ague-smitten
youth of perhaps seventeen years and of a height about as great as her
own. Of the two the mother was evidently the controlling spirit, and in
her case all motherly love seemed to have been replaced by a vast
contempt for the inefficiency and general lack of male qualities in her
offspring. When I first saw them she was driving her son before her to a
spot where an opening offered near the bow of the boat, in full sight of
all the passengers, of whose attention she was quite oblivious.

"Git up, there, Andy Jackson!" she said. "Stan' up!"

The boy, his long legs braiding under him, and his peaked face still
more pale, did as he was bid. He had no sooner taken his position than
to my surprise I saw his mother cover him with the long barrel of a
dragoon revolver.

"Pull your gun, you low-down coward," she commanded, in tones that might
have been heard half the length of the boat. Reluctantly the boy
complied, his own revolver trembling in his unready hand.

"Now, whut'd you do if a man was to kivver you like I'm a-doin' now?"
demanded his mother.

"G-g-g-Gawd, Maw, I dunno! I think I'd j-j-j-jump off in the river,"
confessed the boy.

"Shore you would, and good luck if you'd git plumb drownded, you
white-livered son of misery. Whatever in Gawd A'mighty's world you was
borned for certainly is more'n I can tell--and I your Maw at that, that
orto know if anybody could."

"Madam," I interrupted, astonished at this discourse, "what do you mean
by such talk to your son--for I presume he is your son. Why do you abuse
him in this way?" I was sorry for the shivering wretch whom she had made
the object of her wrath.

"Shut up, and mind yore own business," answered the virago, swiftly
turning the barrel of her weapon upon me. "Whut business is this here of
yores?"

"None, madam," I bowed, "but I was only curious."

"You keep your own cur'osity to yourself ef you'r goin' to travel in
these parts. That's a mighty good thing for you to learn."

"Very true, madam," said I, gently disengaging the revolver barrel from
the line of my waist, "but won't you tell me why you do these things
with your son?"

"It's none of your damned business," she answered, "but I don't mind
tellin' you. I'm tryin' to make a man out'n him."

"Ah, and this is part of the drill?"

"Part