waggered up to the party, expecting them
to make way, but instead, De Lacy stiffened his shoulder, caught the
Frenchman in the chest, and rolled him off into the street. Surprised
and enraged, the Frenchman turned to demolish the man who had dared to
insult the "boss bully on de reever Hottawa."

"Vous n'avez pas remarque la demoiselle," said the lieutenant, in a tone
of politeness.

The lumberman, who had swaggered up ready to strike, glanced at Maimie,
took off his hat, and made a ceremonious bow.

"Eh bien! Non! Pardon, Mams'elle."

"Bon jour," said Lieutenant De Lacy, with a military salute, and moved
on, leaving the lumberman staring after them as if he had seen a vision.

"Beauty and the Beast," murmured the lieutenant. "Thought I was in for
it, sure. Really wonderful, don't you know!"

"Do you think we had better go on?" said Maimie, turning to Kate and
Harry.

"Why not? Why, certainly!" they exclaimed.

"These horrid men," replied Maimie.

"Dear creatures!" said the lieutenant, glancing at Kate with a mildly
pathetic look. "Sweet, but not always fragrant."

"Oh, they won't hurt us. Let us go on."

"Certainly, go on," echoed Harry, impatiently.

"Safe enough, Miss St. Clair, but," pulling out his perfumed
handkerchief, "rather trying."

"Oh, get on, De Lacy," cried Harry, and so they moved on.

The office of Raymond & St. Clair stood near the wharves. Harry paused
at the door, not quite sure whether to go in or not. It was easy to
discover work in that office.

"You might ask if Ranald has come," said Kate. "Maimie is too shy."

Harry returned in a few moments, quite excited.

"The Macdonald gang are in, and the Big Macdonald was here not half an
hour ago, and Ranald is down at the raft beyond the last wharf. I know
the place."

"Oh, do let us go on!" cried Kate, to whom Harry had been extolling
Ranald on the way down. "You really ought to inspect your timber, Harry,
shouldn't you?"

"Most certainly, and right away. No saying what might happen."

"Awful slush," said the lieutenant, glancing at Maimie's face. "Do you
think the timber wouldn't keep for a week?"

"Oh, rubbish! A week!" cried Harry. "He is thinking of his boots again."

To be quite fair to the lieutenant, it was Maimie's doubtful face,
rather than his shiny boots, that made him hesitate. She was evidently
nervous and embarrassed. The gay, easy manner which was her habit was
gone.

"I think perhaps we had better go, since