Ambrose’s breast hummed like a violin to the bow of night.  The poetic feeling was there, though the expression was prosaic.

“By George, this is fine!” he murmured.

Job’s curly tail thumped the gunwale in answer.

“I’m glad I brought you, old fel’,” said Ambrose.  “I expect I’d go clean off my head if didn’t have any one to talk to!”

Job beat a tattoo on the side of the boat and wriggled and whined in his anxiety to reach his master.

“Steady there!” said Ambrose.

Presently he went on:  “Three hundred miles!  Six days for Poly to come with the current; nine days to go back!  Fifteen days at the best!  Anything might happen in that time. . . .  Poly said no danger from any of the men there.  But some one might come down the river! . . .  If wishing could bring an aeroplane up north!”

After a silence:  “I wish I could get my best suit pressed! . . .  It’s two years old, anyway.  And she’s just come in; she knows the styles. . . .  Lord, I’ll look like a regular roughneck!”

Next morning when Peter Minot threw open the door of the store he found the note pinned to the door-frame.  It was brief and to the point: 

DEAR PETE: 

You said I ought to go by myself till I felt better.  So I’m off.  Don’t expect me till you see me.  Charge me with 50 lbs. flour, 18 lbs. bacon, 20 lbs. rice, 10 lbs. sugar, 5 lbs. prunes, 1/2 lb. tea, 1/2 lb. baking powder, and bag of salt.  Please take care of my dog.  So long!  A. D.

P. S.—­I’m taking the dog.

Peter, like all men slow to anger, lost his temper with startling effect.  Tearing the note off the door and grinding it under foot, he cursed the runaway from a full heart.

Eva, hearing, hastily called the children indoors, and thrusting them behind her peeped into the store.  Peter, purple in the face, was wildly brandishing his arms.

Eva closed the door very softly and gave the children bread and molasses to keep them quiet.  Meanwhile the storm continued to rage.

“The young fool!  To run off without a word!  I’d have let him go gladly if he’d said anything—­and given him a good man!  But to go alone!  He’ll break an arm and die in the bush!  And to leave me like this with the year’s outfit due next week!

“I’ll not see him again until cold weather—­if I ever see him!  Fifty pounds of flour—­with his appetite!  He’ll starve to death if he doesn’t drown himself first!  He’ll never get to Enterprise!  Oh, the consummate young ass!  Damn Poly Goussard and his romantic stories!”

CHAPTER III.

Colina.

John Gaviller and Colina were at breakfast in the big clap-boarded villa at Fort Enterprise.

They were a good-looking pair, and at heart not dissimilar, though it must be taken into account that the same qualities manifest themselves differently in a man of affairs and a romantic, irresponsible young woman.