r deck-hands, tumbling the cargo and the
firewood on board, singing, shouting, and laughing the while, the
white mates overseeing the work with many hard words, and the captain,
tough and swarthy, superintending from the upper deck the mates and
all hands. A party of nice-looking, citified people, as Sandy thought
them, attracted his attention on the upper deck, and he mentally
wondered what they could be doing here, so far in the wilderness.

"Car' yer baggage aboard, boss?" asked a lively young negro, half-clad
and hungry-looking.

"No, not yet," answered Sandy, feeling in his trousers pocket the last
two quarters of a dollar that was left them. "Not yet. I am not ready
to go aboard till my mates come." The hungry-looking darky made a rush
for another more promising passenger and left Sandy lounging where the
other lads soon after found him. Charlie's face was a picture of
despair. Oscar looked very grave, for him.

"What's up?" cried Sandy, starting from his seat. "Have you seen a
ghost?"

"Worse than that," said Charlie. "Somebody's stolen the money!"

"Stolen the money?" echoed Sandy, with vague terror, the whole extent
of the catastrophe flitting before his mind. "Why, what on earth do
you mean?"

Oscar explained that they had found the letter, as they expected, and
he produced it, written by the two loving mothers at home. They said
that they had made up their minds to send fifty dollars, instead of
the forty that Uncle Charlie had said would be enough. It was in
ten-dollar notes, five of them; at least, it had been so when the
letter left Dixon. When it was opened in Leavenworth, it was empty,
save for the love and tenderness that were in it. Sandy groaned.

The lively young darky came up again with, "Car' yer baggage aboard,
boss?"

It was sickening.

"What's to be done now?" said Charlie, in deepest dejection, as he sat
on the pile of baggage that now looked so useless and needless. "I
just believe some of the scamps I saw loafing around there in that
store stole the money out of the letter. See here; it was sealed with
that confounded new-fangled 'mucilage'; gumstickum I call it. Anybody
could feel those five bank-notes inside of the letter, and anybody
could steam it open, take out the money, and seal it up again. We have
been robbed."

"Let's go and see the heads of the house there at Osterhaus &
Wickham's. They will see us righted," cried Sandy, indignantly. "I
won't stand it, for one."

"N