astern. Orde grinned.

"Haven't forgotten how to ride a log, I reckon?" he commented.

Welton exploded.

"Look here, you little squirt!" he cried, "I'd have you know I'm riding
logs yet. I don't suppose you'd know a log if you'd see one, you'
soft-handed, degenerate, old riverhog, you! A golf ball's about your
size!"

"No," said Orde; "a fat old hippopotamus named Welton is about my
size--as I'll show you when we land at the Marsh!"

Welton grinned.

"How's Mrs. Orde and the little boy?" he inquired.

"Mrs. Orde is fine and dandy, and the 'little boy,' as you call him,
graduated from college last June," Orde replied.

"You don't say!" cried Welton, genuinely astounded. "Why, of course, he
must have! Can he lick his dad?"

"You bet he can--or could if his dad would give him a chance. Why, he's
been captain of the football team for two years."

"And football's the only game I'd come out of the woods to see," said
Welton. "I must have seen him up at Minneapolis when his team licked the
stuffing out of our boys; and I remember his name. But I never thought
of him as little Bobby--because--well, because I always did remember him
as little Bobby."

"He's big Bobby, now, all right," said Orde, "and that's one reason I
wanted to see you; why I asked you to run over from Chicago next time
you came down. Of course, there _are_ ducks, too."

"There'd better be!" said Welton grimly.

"I want Bob to go into the lumber business, same as his dad was. This
congressman game is all right, and I don't see how I can very well get
out of it, even if I wanted to. But, Welton, I'm a Riverman, and I
always will be. It's in my bones. I want Bob to grow up in the smell of
the woods--same as his dad. I've always had that ambition for him. It
was the one thing that made me hesitate longest about going to
Washington. I looked forward to _Orde & Son_."

He was resting on his oars, and the duck-boat drifted silently by the
swaying brown reeds.

Welton nodded.

"I want you to take him and break him in. I'd rather have you than any
one I know. You're the only one of the outsiders who stayed by the Big
Jam," Orde continued. "Don't try to favour him--that's no favour. If he
doesn't make good, fire him. Don't tell any of your people that he's the
son of a friend. Let him stand on his own feet. If he's any good we'll
work him into the old game. Just give him a job, and keep an eye on him
for me, to see how well he does."

"Jack, th