The sight-seers accordingly made all haste, and, having tramped through the sandy streets, taken a few pictures, and found the town to be somewhat smaller than Skagway, they retraced their steps and none too soon. The water was already flowing around the uncompleted end of the wharf, but they jumped the rapidly widening stream. A young woman, a fellow-passenger on the "Farallon," arrived soon after. She was obliged to wade through, but escaped a serious wetting by walking on her heels. Ten minutes later the water-line was far up toward the town.
Of the voyage to Seattle, where they learned that Spain had sued for peace; of how David delighted Flora Kingsley with one of the cub bear-skins, reserving the large one for his mother and the other for Helen; of the homeward journey by way of Salt Lake City, where the boys and their elders—for Uncle Will accompanied them—saw the old Mormon tabernacle and the great new temple, and floated like corks in the buoyant brine of the lake,—space forbids an account.
Suffice it to say that all four, bronzed and healthy and happy, alighted from the train at their home city one beautiful afternoon in September, and were received with open arms and great rejoicing by Mrs. Bradford and Helen, who declared that they were bountifully rewarded for all their anxiety and loneliness by seeing their dear ones come back so strong and well.
"It has been a wonderful and profitable journey," said Mr. Bradford that evening, "in more ways than one. We are not millionaires, but we have gained in health and stored our memories with treasures."
"Yes," put in Uncle Will, "and we've turned out two as fine lads as there are in the country. If there comes another war, here are soldiers ready-made."
"Soldierly qualities," said Mrs. Bradford, with a pleased look in her eyes, "are useful also in peace."
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.