“Well, I always get there,” the latter replied with some pride.  “From the Little Fork here I only tipped over six times, all told.”

The cook, who had been listening near by, grunted.

“Only time I wasn’t with you, Billy,” said he; “that’s why you got the nerve to tell that!”

“It’s a fact!” insisted the driver.

The young fellow who had been ordered off the river sat alone by the drying-fire.  Now that he had warmed up and dried off, he was seen to be a rather good-looking boy, dark-skinned, black-eyed, with overhanging, thick, straight brows, like a line from temple to temple.  These gave him either the sullen, biding look of an Indian or an air of set determination, as the observer pleased.  Just now he contemplated the fire rather gloomily.

Welton sat down on the same log with him.

“Well, bub,” said the old riverman good-naturedly, “so you thought you’d like to be a riverman?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy, with a certain sullen reserve.

“Where did you think you learned to ride a log?”

“I’ve been around a little at the booms.”

“I see.  Well, it’s a different proposition when you come to working on ’em in fast water.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where you from?”

“Down Greenville way.”

“Farm?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Back to the farm now, eh?”

“I suppose so.”

“Don’t like the notion, eh?”

“No!” cried the boy, with a flash of passion.

“Still like to tackle the river?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the young fellow, again encased in his sullen apathy.

“If I send you back to-morrow, would you like to tackle it again?”

“Oh, yes!” said the boy eagerly.  “I didn’t have any sort of a show when you saw me to-day!  I can do a heap better than that.  I was froze through and couldn’t handle myself.”

Welton grinned.

“What you so stuck on getting wet for?” he inquired.

“I dunno,” replied the boy vaguely.  “I just like the woods.”

“Well, I got no notion of drownding you off in the first white water we come across,” said Welton; “but I tell you what to do:  you wait around here a few days, helping the cook or Billy there, and I’ll take you down to the mill and put you on the booms where you can practise in still water with a pike-pole, and can go warm up in the engine room when you fall off.  Suit you?”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you,” said the boy quietly; but there was a warm glow in his eye.

By now it was nearly dark.

“Guess we’ll bunk here to-night,” Welton told Bob casually.

Bob looked his dismay.

“Why, I left everything down at the other camp,” he cried, “even my tooth brush and hair brush!”

Welton looked at him comically.

“Me, too,” said he.  “We won’t neither of us be near as much trouble to ourselves to-morrow, will we?”