“Then you must be—”
“Mrs. Howard Leighton, of St. Paul. And this is my son, Andrew. We have come—”
“I understand,” interrupted the man quickly. “I wrote to your husband. My name is Anderson—Captain Anderson. Why didn’t you let me know? We’d have met you. I heard the train stop, and I wondered what it meant. So I came up to see. I’m glad to meet you.”
“And you live here?” began Mrs. Leighton, as Captain Anderson shook hands with her and Andy. “You can’t imagine how relieved I am. But are there any buildings—a hotel or boarding house?”
“Yes,” continued Andy. “We’ve got all this stuff scattered along Main Street, and haven’t had any supper, and as for sleepin’—”
Captain Anderson laughed and picked up his lantern.
“As for your baggage, we’ll take care of that in short order. Your uncle and I were friends for many years. His house is over on the other side of the railroad. You can’t go there to-night. My place is down here on the river—”
“But, Captain—” began Mrs. Leighton.
“Young man,” interrupted the captain, ignoring Mrs. Leighton’s protest, “take this lantern and start right down the road with your mother. I’ll be after you as soon as I find those grips. You’ll eat and sleep to-night in the Anderson house. There isn’t any Valkaria but a signboard.”