"And now," Dodge said, "we must give the station a name. What shall we christen it? You remember how hungry we were when we first came upon it. I like something expressive. What do you think of 'Pinch-gut Slopes!'"
"Oh that won't do," said Slinger. "Supposing Raymond should bring out a wife with him, what a pretty place to date letters from: her English friends would never get through with such an address as that. Try again."
"What do you think of a native name? they are often very musical, and I like the notion of preserving some memento of the tribes who are passing away, leaving nothing to indicate that they ever existed. I have heard the natives speak of a river situated about here called 'Lan-lan-borin.' Will that do?"
"Yes, never mind what it means. It is far preferable to such appellations as 'No Good Damper,' 'Wet Jacket Hump' 'Razor-back Pinch,' and a hundred other such outlandish names." So the station was called Lan-lan-borin.
CHAPTER XV.
It would be taking an unfair advantage of thee, most patient reader, were we to spin out our story much longer, for is it not clear as the sun at noon day that Hugh Raymond will return with Amy Leslie as his wife, and his father having died, leaving the girls without a protector, what more probable than that they too should accompany their brother, and Slinger's day-dream be realised? As for our eccentric friend Dodge, af-
