and yourn's
alongside."

"What does he call his town?" asked Albert.

Jim brought his whip down smartly on a lazy wheel-horse, crying out:

"Puck-a-chee! Seechy-do!" (Get out--bad.) For, like most of his class
in Minnesota at that day, the Superior Being had enriched his
vocabulary of slang with divers Indian words. Then, after a pause, he
said: "What does he call it? I believe it's 'Charlton,' or suthin' of
that sort. _Git_ up!"

Albert was disposed at first to think the name a compliment to himself,
but the more he thought of it, the more clear it became to him that the
worshipful heart of the Poet had meant to preserve the memory of Katy,
over whom he had tried in vain to stand guard.

Of course part of Driver Jim's information was not new to Albert, but
much of it was, for the Poet's letters had not been explicit in regard to
the increased value of the property, and Charlton had concluded the
claim would go out of his hands anyhow, and had ceased to take any
further interest in it.

When at last he saw again the familiar balloon-frame houses of
Metropolisville, he grew anxious. How would people receive him? Albert
had always taken more pains to express his opinions dogmatically than to
make friends; and now that the odium of crime attached itself to him, he
felt pretty sure that Metropolisville, where there was neither mother nor
Katy, would offer him no cordial welcome. His heart turned toward Isa
with more warmth than he could have desired, but he feared that any
friendship he might show to Isabel would compromise her. A young woman's
standing is not helped by the friendship of a post-office thief, he
reflected. He could not leave Metropolisville without seeing the best
friend he had; he could not see her without doing her harm. He was
thoroughly vexed that he had rashly put himself in so awkward a dilemma;
he almost wished himself back in St. Paul.

At last the Superior Being roused his horses into a final dash, and came
rushing up to the door of the "City Hotel" with his usual flourish.

"Hooray! Howdy! I know'd you'd be along to-night," cried the Poet. "You
see a feller went through our town--I've laid off a town you know--called
it Charlton, arter _her_ you know--they wuz a feller come along
yisterday as said as he'd come on from Washin'ton City weth Preacher
Lurton, and he'd heern him tell as how as Ole Buck--the President I
mean--had ordered you let out. An' I'm _that_ glad! Howdy! You look a
leetl