on his attire, and asked, querulously:

"What's the matter? We ain't goin' to move, are we?"

"Yes. We'll make for one of the other canneries," answered Emerson,
without looking up.

"But I've got sore feet," complained the adventurer.

"What! again?" Emerson laughed skeptically. "Better walk on your hands for
a while."

"And it's getting dark, too."

"Never mind. It can't be far. Come now."

He urged the fellow as he had repeatedly urged him before, for Fraser
seemed to have the blood of a tramp in his veins; then he tried to
question the woman, but she maintained a frightened silence. When they had
finished their coffee, Emerson laid two silver dollars on the table, and
they left the house to search out the river-trail again.

The early darkness, hastened by the storm, was upon them when they crept
up the opposite bank an hour later, and through the gloom beheld a group
of great shadowy buildings. Approaching the solitary gleam of light
shining from the window of the watchman's house, they applied to him for
shelter.

"We are just off a long trip, and our dogs are played out," Emerson
explained. "We'll pay well for a place to rest."