Charlton was impatient to go back to Metropolisville.  For what, he could hardly say.  There was no home there for him, but then he wanted to go somewhere.  It seemed so fine to be able to go anywhere.  Bidding Lurton a grateful adieu, he hurried to St. Paul.  The next morning he was booked for Metropolisville, and climbed up to the driver’s seat with the eager impatience of a boy.

“Wal, stranger, go tew thunder!  I’m glad to see you’re able to be aout.  You’ve ben confined t’ the haouse fer some time, I guess, p’r’aps?”

It was the voice of Whisky Jim that thus greeted Albert.  If there was a half-sneer in the words, there was nothing but cordial friendliness in the tone and the grasp of the hand.  The Superior Being was so delighted that he could only express his emotions by giving his leaders several extra slashes with his whip, and by putting on a speed that threatened to upset the coach.

“Well, Jim, what’s the news?” said Charlton gayly.

“Nooze?  Let me see.  Nothin’ much.  Your father-in-law, or step-father, or whatever you call him, concluded to cut and run las’ week.  I s’pose he calkilated that your gittin’ out might leave a vacancy fer him.  Thought he might hev to turn in and do the rest of the ten years’ job that’s owin’ to Uncle Sam on that land-warrant, eh?  I guess you won’t find no money left.  ’Twixt him and the creditors and the lawyers and the jedges, they a’n’t nary cent to carry.”

“When did you hear from Gray?”

“Oh! he was up to Metropolisville las’ week.  He a’n’t so much of a singster as he wus.  Gone to spekilatin’.  The St. Paul and Big Gun River Valley Railroad is a-goin’ t’ his taown.”

Here the Superior Being stopped talking, and waited to be questioned.

“Laid off a town, then, has he?”

“Couldn’ help hisself.  The Wanosia and Dakota Crossing Road makes a junction there, and his claim and yourn has doubled in valoo two or three times.”

“But I suppose mine has been sold under mortgage?”

“Under mortgage?  Not much.  Some of your friends jest sejested to Plausaby he’d better pay two debts of yourn.  And he did.  He paid Westcott fer the land-warrant, and he paid Minorkey’s mortgage.  Ole chap didn’t want to be paid.  Cutthroat mortgage, you know.  He’d heerd of the railroad junction.  Jemeny! they’s five hundred people livin’ on Gray’s claim, and yourn’s alongside.”

“What does he call his town?” asked Albert.

Jim brought his whip down smartly on a lazy wheel-horse, crying out: 

“Puck-a-chee!  Seechy-do!” (Get out—­bad.) For, like most of his class in Minnesota at that day, the Superior Being had enriched his vocabulary of slang with divers Indian words.  Then, after a pause, he said:  “What does he call it?  I believe it’s ‘Charlton,’ or suthin’ of that sort. Git up!”

Albert was disposed at first to think the name a compliment to himself, but the more he thought of it, the more clear it became to him that the worshipful heart of the Poet had meant to preserve the memory of Katy, over whom he had tried in vain to stand guard.