A few minutes later Mr. Webster started home, and then Frank opened a letter he had brought him. He was astonished when he read it.
"It's from Mr. Marston, who got me the position with the milling company—he's a relative of ours," he informed Mr. Oliver. "It appears that he is in Portland on business—shipping Walla wheat—and he says that he promised my mother he'd look me up if he had time. He may be here shortly."
"We'd be glad to see him," Mr. Oliver answered cordially. "It isn't a very long way to Portland."
Frank, however, had no further word from Mr. Marston; and in due time the evening of the supper arrived. Mr. Oliver and the boys sailed up to the settlement. Landing in the darkness, they found the little hotel blazing with light. The night was mild, and a hum of voices and bursts of laughter drifted out from the open windows of the wooden building. On entering the veranda, they were greeted by the man who had kept the store when Frank first visited the settlement.
"I'm glad to see that you're better," Mr. Oliver remarked.
"Thanks!" replied the other. "I've just got down from Seattle—the doctors have patched me up. It's time I was back at business—things have been getting pretty mixed while I was away." Then he changed the subject. "The boys would make me chairman of this affair, and they're waiting. You're only just on time."
"The wind fell light," said Mr. Oliver. "As there seems to be a good many of them, they needn't have waited for my party if we hadn't come."
"Oh," laughed the storekeeper, "they couldn't begin without—you."
Mr. Oliver looked slightly astonished; but there was another surprise in store for him and the boys when they entered the largest room in the building. It was, for once, brilliantly lighted; and crossed fir branches hung on the rudely match-boarded wall, with the azure and silver and crimson of the flag gleaming here and there among them. Frank could understand the attempt to decorate the place, because, as a matter of fact, it needed it; but he did not see why the double row of men standing about the long table should break out into an applauding murmur as Mr. Oliver walked in. Most of them had lean, brown faces and toil-hardened hands, and were dressed in duck with a cloth jacket over it and with boots that reached to the knees, but there were two or three in white shirts and neat cloth suits.
"Boys," said the storekeeper, "our guest has now arrived. Though he tells me the wind fell light, he's here on time, which is what we've always found him to be in all his doings." He waved Mr. Oliver to the head of the table. "That's your place. It's my duty to welcome you on behalf of the assembled company."