to come in with him. He's been mighty good to me."
"Well, well. Every man must decide on which side his bread is buttered. Mr. Bridger seems perplexed over the boats."
"He's probably trying to make a choice," Lander innocently suggested, his lips twitching.
"I hope he is not disappointed," mused McKenzie, his face gravely sympathetic.
To relieve his fears Bridger called: "All right, Mr. McKenzie. I'll take this one. Fact, there ain't only one choice. T'other one seems to be bu'sted."
"The other one—" began McKenzie. "To be sure; the other one is damaged. I had forgotten that. And you find one that—that suits?"
"It's all right," cheerily cried Bridger. "Come down and look it over. I can't see anything wrong 'bout it."
Much puzzled and deeply disturbed at the unexpected presence of two boats, McKenzie cantered into the clearing and rode his horse down to the shelving bank. To his dismay he beheld one of his best keelboats. It was one of the two he had ordered his men surreptitiously to remove. But here it was—fast beside the broken boat.
