out her hand and said:--

"God bless you for being so kind."

Jack shuddered and glanced quickly round. But luckily no one heard this
crushing sentimentalism, and the next moment the door closed upon her
and Mrs. Johnson.

It was past midnight, and the moon was riding high over the narrowing
yellow river, when Jack again stepped out on deck. He had just left the
captain's cabin, and a small social game with the officers, which
had served to some extent to vaguely relieve his irritation and
their pockets. He had presumably quite forgotten the incident of the
afternoon, as he looked about him, and complacently took in the quiet
beauty of the night.

The low banks on either side offered no break to the uninterrupted level
of the landscape, through which the river seemed to wind only as a race
track for the rushing boat. Every fibre of her vast but fragile bulk
quivered under the goad of her powerful engines. There was no other
movement but hers, no other sound but this monstrous beat and panting;
the whole tranquil landscape seemed to breathe and pulsate with her;
dwellers in the tules, miles away, heard and felt her as she passed, and
it seemed to Jack, leaning over the railing, as if the whole river swept
like a sluice through her paddle-boxes.

Jack had quite unconsciously lounged before that part of the railing
where the young girl had leaned a few hours ago. As he looked down upon
the streaming yellow mill-race below him, he noticed--what neither he
nor the girl had probably noticed before--that a space of the top bar of