ss
among fellow travelers on a little river packet?

[Illustration: He still bowed, with respectful glances.]

The tall man was not without a certain grave audacity. A look of
amusement came to his face as he gazed at the features of the
other, now obviously agitated, and not a little flushed.

"I had not known that your sister--" he began. His hand thus
forced, the other was obliged to reply: "No, the daughter of an old
friend of mine, you see--we are _en voyage_ together for the
western country. It has simply been my fortune to travel in
company with the lady. I present you, my dear sir, to Miss Barren.
My dear Miss Barren, this is State Senator Warville Dunwody, of
Missouri. We are of opposite camps in politics."

The tall man bowed still more deeply. Meantime, Josephine St.
Auban in her own way had taken inventory of the new-comer. Her
companion hastily sought to hold matters as they were.

"My dear Senator Dunwody," he said, "we were just passing down to
the boat to see that the luggage is aboard. With you, I regret
very much that your journey takes you from us."

The sudden consternation which sat upon Dunwody's face was almost
amusing. He was very willing to prolong this conversation. Into
his soul there had flashed the swift conviction that never in his
life had he seen a woman so beautiful as this. Yet all he could do
was to smile and bow adieu.

"A fine man, that Dunwody, yonder," commented the young captain, as
they parted, and as he turned to his prisoner. "We'll see him on
in Washington some day. He is strengthening his forces now against
Mr. Benton out there. A strong man--a strong one; and a heedless."

"Of what party is he?" she inquired, as though casually.

"What a man's party is in these days," was his answer, "is
something hard to say. A man like Dunwody is pretty much his own
party, although the Bentonites call him a 'soft Democrat.' Hardly
soft he seems, when he gets in action at the state capital of
Missouri yonder. Certainly Dunwody is for war and tumult. None of
this late weak-kneed compromise for him! To have his own way--that
is Dunwody's creed of life. I thank God he is not going with us
now. He might want his own way with you, from the fashion of his
glances. Did you see? My word!" Young Carlisle fumed a shade
more than might have seemed necessary for military reasons.

Josephine St. Auban turned upon him with her slow smile, composedly
looking at him fr