"I don't like that man," asserted Winifred, as Robert Burroughs passed.
"You mustn't say that, Winnie," reproved Charlie. "Burroughs"—addressing Philip—"Sweet Oil Bob, we call him, is goin' to start a new tradin' post at Macleod. He's clerked at Fort Benton till he knows more about the profits of an Injun tradin' post than any man on the river! Yeh'll likely see quite a little o' him. Most of the Canadian traders 'd rather he stayed this side o' the line."
"Surely there are other American traders in this Whoop Up Country, as you call it."
"Not so many—no. But Sweet Oil Bob is shrewd, an' the Canadians are afraid he'll get the biggest share o' the Injun trade. You know how it is."
Before Danvers could answer, his attention was caught by:
"The ambition of my life is to sit on the supreme bench of some State," spoken by a fair-haired young man as he passed with a taller, older one. "Montana will be a State, some day," the would-be judge went on, eagerly boyish.
"Hello, Doc," called Charlie, as he sighted the elder pedestrian. "Stop a minute."
Before the invitation was accepted the physician gave impetus to the other's desire.
"Hope your hopes, Latimer. Honorable and honest endeavor will reach the most exalted position." Then he put out his hand to the child, who clasped it affectionately.
"Well, Charlie," he smiled genially at the English lad as well as on his former river travelers. "How goes it?"