ank and Charley disposed of their skiff and we
saw them no more. We pushed on with little mourning. But in a spirit of
fairness, let me record that Charley's biscuits were marvels, and that
Frank's _gateaux a la chansonnette_ were things of beauty and therefore
joys forever.

[Illustration: ASSINIBOINE INDIAN CHIEF.]

[Illustration: ASSINIBOINE INDIAN CAMP.]

The days that followed were long and hard; and half the chilly nights
were spent in drying ourselves before a roaring fire. There were more
mosquitoes now. They began to torture us at about five o'clock in the
afternoon, and left off only when the cold of night came, relieving us
of one discomfort by the substitution of another. Bill, of whom I had
come to think as the expatriated turnip, gave me an opportunity to study
homesickness--at once pitiful and ludicrous in a man with abundant
whiskers. But he pulled strenuously at the forward paddle, every stroke
as he remarked often, taking him closer to home.

The river had fallen alarmingly, and was still falling. Several times we
were obliged to unload the entire cargo, piling it high in the shallow
water, that we might be able to carry the empty boat to the channel.

One evening we came upon a typical Montana ranch--the Pen and Key. The
residence, barns, sheds, fences were built of logs. The great rolling
country about it was thickly dotted with horses and cattle. The place
looked like home. It was a sight from Pisgah--a glimpse of a Promised
Land after the Wilderness. We pulled in, intending to buy some
provisions for the last stage of the journey to the Yellowstone.

I went up to the main ranch-house, and was met at the door by one of
those blessed creatures that have "mother" written all over them. Hers
were not the eyes of a stranger. She looked at me as she must look at
one of her sons when he returns from an extended absence. I told at
once the purpose of my errand, explaining briefly what we were doing on
the river. Why, yes, certainly we could have provisions. But we weren't
going any farther that night--were we? The rancher appeared at this
moment--a retired major of the army, who looked the part--and decided
that we would stay for supper. How many were there in our party? Three?
"Three more plates," he said to the daughters of the house, busy about
the kitchen.

Let's be frank! It really required no persuasion at all to make a guest
of me. Had I allowed myself adequate expression of my delight, I sho