ry now and
then to peer down the river. Suddenly he uttered a cry, and with a
bound Gale was beside him, Lee at his shoulder.

"Look! Over the point! Down yonder! I saw smoke!"

The three stared at the distant forest fringe that masked the bend of
the river until their eyes ached, and the dark-green grew black and
wavered indistinctly.

"You're tired, my boy," said Gale.

"Wait!"

They obeyed, and finally over the tree-tops saw a faint streamer of
black.

"It is! It is!" cried the soldier. "I'm going for my war bag." And
before the steamboat had hove into sight he was back with his scanty
bundle of baggage, behaving like one daft, talking and laughing and
running here and there. Lee watched him closely, then went behind the
bar and poured out a stiff glass of whiskey, which he made Burrell
drink. To Gale he whispered, a moment later:

"Keep your eye on him, John--he'll go mad at this rate."

They waited, it seemed interminably, until at last a white hull slowly
rounded the point, then shaped a course across the current towards the
other bank, where the water was less swift. As it came fully into
sight, Gale swore aloud in despair:

"It's the Mission boat!"

"Well, what of that?" said Burrell. "We'll hire it--buy it--take it!"

"It's no use; she ain't got but three dog-power to her engines," Lee
explained. "She's a down-river boat--has to run with the current to
move."

"We can't use her," Gale gave in, reluctantly. "She'd only lose time
for us. We've got to wait for one of the A. C. boats."

"Wait!" cried Burrell. "Good God! we've done nothing but wait, WAIT,
_WAIT_! Let's do something!"

"You go back yonder and set down," commanded Lee. "We'll have a boat
before long."

The arrival of the tiny Mission steamer was never of sufficient
importance to draw a crowd to the riverbank, so the impatient men at
the post relaxed interest in her as she came creeping up abreast of the
town. It was little Johnny Gale who first saw Necia and Poleon on
board, for he had recognized Father Barnum's craft at a distance, and
stationed himself at the bank hand-in-hand with Molly to bid the good,
kind old man welcome.

The men inside the house did not hear the boy crying Necia's name, for
his voice was small, and they had gone to the rear of the store.

"Understand! You leave Runnion to me," Burrell was saying. "No man
shall lay hands on him except me--" His voice trailed away; he rose
slowly to his feet, a strange l