dripping like a muskrat. What did you do it for?"

"I was in a hurry to get back to camp," grinned Chip, sinking into a
chair. "And you weren't a senator then."

"It would have been all the same if I had been, I reckon," responded
the senator, shaking Chip's hand again. "Well, well! So you are the
genius--that sounds more likely. No offense, Miss Whitmore. Do you
remember that picture you drew with charcoal on a piece of pine board?
It stands on the mantel in my library, and I always point it out to my
friends as the work of a young man with a future. And you painted
'The Last Stand!' Well, well! I think I'll have to send the price
up another notch, just to get even with you for swearing at me when
my lungs were so full of water I couldn't swear back!"

While he talked he was busy unwrapping the picture which he had brought
with him, and he reminded the Little Doctor of a loquacious peddler
opening his pack. He was much more genial and unpretentious since Chip
entered the room, and she wondered why. She wanted to ask about that
reference to the water, but he stood the painting against the wall,
just then, and she forgot everything but that.

Chip's eyes clung to the scene greedily. After all, it was his--and he
knew in his heart that it was good. After a minute he limped into his
room and brought "The Spoils of Victory," and stood it beside "The Last
Stand."

"A--h-h!" The senator breathed the word deep in his throat and fell
silent. Even the Old Man leaned forward in his chair that he might
see the better. The Little Doctor could not see anything, just then,