journey.

"How soon will you start?" she inquired, when the last of the stuff was
stowed aboard the little steamer.

"Twenty minutes or so," Benton answered. "Say," he went on casually,
"have you got any money, Stell? I owe a fellow thirty dollars, and I
left the bank roll and my check book at camp."

Miss Benton drew the purse from her hand bag and gave it to him. He
pocketed it and went off down the wharf, with the brief assurance that
he would be gone only a minute or so.

The minute, however, lengthened to nearly an hour, and Sam Davis had his
blow-off valve hissing, and Stella Benton was casting impatient glances
shoreward before Charlie strolled leisurely back.

"You needn't fire up quite so strong, Sam," he called down. "We won't
start for a couple of hours yet."

"Sufferin' Moses!" Davis poked his fiery thatch out from the engine
room. "I might 'a' known better'n to sweat over firin' up. You generally
manage to make about three false starts to one get-away."

Benton laughed good-naturedly and turned away.

"Do you usually allow your men to address you in that impertinent way?"
Miss Benton desired to know.

Charlie looked blank for a second. Then he smiled, and linking his arm