and Indian fighters, and sometimes a titled foreigner.  She wondered if Tom had maintained the traditions of the place.  She found that Carrington had heard of Belle Plain.  He spoke of it with respect, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, for how could he feel enthusiasm when he must begin his chase after fortune with bare hands?—­he suffered acutely whenever it was mentioned.  The days, like any other days, dwindled.  The end of it all was close at hand.  Another twenty-four hours and Carrington reflected there would only be good-by to say.

“We will reach New Madrid to-night,” he told her.  They were watching the river, under a flood of yellow moonlight.

“And then just another day—­Oh, I can hardly wait!” cried Betty delightedly.  “Soon I shall hope to see you at Belle Plain, Mr. Carrington,” she added graciously.

“Thank you, your—­your family—­” he hesitated.

“There’s only just Tom—­he’s my half-brother.  My mother was left a widow when I was a baby.  Later, some years after, she married Tom’s father.”

“Oh—­then he’s not even your half-brother?”

“He’s no relation at all—­and much older.  When Tom’s father died my mother made Tom, manager, and still later he was appointed my guardian.”

“Then you own Belle Plain?” and Carrington sighed.

“Yes.  You have never seen it?—­it’s right on the river, you know?” then Betty’s face grew sober:  “Tom’s dreadfully queer—­I expect he’ll require a lot of managing!”

“I reckon you’ll be equal to that!” said-Carrington, convinced of Betty’s all-compelling charm.

“No, I’m not at all certain about Tom—­I can see where we shall have serious differences; but then, I shan’t have to struggle single-handed with him long; a cousin of my mother’s is coming to Belle Plain to make her home with me—­she’ll make’ him behave,” and Betty laughed maliciously.  “It’s a great nuisance being a girl!”

Then Betty fell to watching for the lights at New Madrid, her elbows resting on the rail against which she was leaning, and the soft curve of her chin sunk in the palms of her hands.  She wondered absently what Judith would have said of this river-man.  She smiled a little dubiously.  Judith had certainly vindicated the sincerity of her convictions regarding the importance of family, inasmuch as in marrying Ferris she had married her own second cousin.  She nestled her chin a little closer in her palms.  She remembered that they had differed seriously over Mr. Yancy’s defiance, of the law as it was supposed to be lodged in the sacred person of Mr. Bladen’s agent, the unfortunate Blount.  Carrington, with his back against a stanchion, watched her discontentedly.

“You’ll be mighty glad to have this over with, Miss Malroy—­” he said at length, with a comprehensive sweep toward the river.

“Yes—­shan’t you?” and she opened her eyes questioningly.

“No,” said Carrington with a short laugh, drawing a chair near hers and sitting down.