"Ho," said Quonab, shaking the senator's hand, while Skookum
looked puzzled and depressed.

"Now, remember," said the governor, addressing the Indian, the
lad, and the senator, "we expect you to dine tonight at the
mansion; seven o'clock."

Then the terror of the dragon conventionality, that guards the
gate and hovers over the feast, loomed up in Rolf's imagination.
He sought a private word with Van. "I'm afraid I have no fit
clothes; I shan't know how to behave," he said.

"Then I'll show you. The first thing is to be perfectly clean and
get a shave; put on the best clothes you have, and be sure
they're clean; then you come at exactly seven o'clock, knowing
that every one is going to be kind to you and you're bound to
have a good time. As to any other 'funny-do' you watch me, and
you'll have no trouble."

So when the seven o'clock assemblage came, and guests were
ascending the steps of the governor's mansion, there also mounted
a tall, slim youth, an easy-pacing Indian, and a prick-eared,
yellow dog. Young Van Cortlandt was near the door, on watch to
save them any embarrassment. But what a swell he looked,
cleanshaven, ruddy, tall, and handsome in the uniform of an
American captain, surrounded by friends and immensely popular.
How different it all was from that lonely cabin by the lake.

A butler who tried to remove Skookum was saved from mutilation by
the intervention first of Quonab and next of Van; and when they