"Come back next year; then a boat will be puffing up here to the landing, and you can cross to the Columbia in a few hours, for the road will be completed then." "And you--will you be here then?" "Well--yes; I reckon so. I never anchor anywhere very long; but this country suits me, and the company seems to need me." The young fellow looked at him and laughed, and dropped his hand on the broad shoulder with a certain degree of affection. "Seems to need you?" he repeated. "Well, Mr. Dan Overton, if the day ever comes when _I'm_ necessary to the welfare of a section as large as a good-sized State, I hope I'll know enough to appreciate my own importance." "Hope you will," said Overton, with a kindly smile. "No reason why you should not be of use. Every man with a fair share of health and strength ought to be of use somewhere." "Yes, that sounds all right and is easy to grasp, if you have been brought up with the idea. But suppose you had been trained by a couple of maiden aunts who only thought to give you the manners of a gentleman, and leave you their money to get through the world with? I guess, under such circumstances, you, too, might have settled into the feathery nest prepared for you, and thought you were doing your duty to the world if you were only ornamental," and the dubious smile on his really handsome face robbed the speech of any vanity. "You're all right, I tell you," returned the other. "Don't growl at yourself so much. You'll find your work and buckle down to it, some of these days. Maybe you'll find it out here--who knows? Of course Mr. Seldon would see to it that you got any post you would want in this district." "Yes, he's a jolly old fellow, and has shown me a lot of favors. Seems to me relatives mean more to folks out here than they do East, because so few have their families or relatives along, I guess. If it had not been for Seldon, I rather think I would not have had the chance of this wild trip with you." "Likely not. I don't generally want a tenderfoot along when I've work to do. No offense, Max; but they are too often a hindrance. Now that you have come, though, I'll confess I'm glad of it. The lonely trips over this wild region tend to make a man silent--a bear among people when he does reach a camp. But we've talked most of the time, and I reckon I feel the better of it. I know I'll miss you when I go over this route again. You'll be on your way East by that time."