skin garments made the proper garb of men.  As though to keep up this air of an older age, his long fair hair was cut almost square, low down on the neck, as though he were some Frank fresh from the ancient forests.  Over the forehead also this square cut was affected, so that, as he stood, large and confident, not quite outre, scarce eccentric, certainly distinguished in appearance, he had a half-savage look, as though ignorant or scornful of the tenderer ways of civilization.  A leader this man might be, a poor follower always.

Yet the first words he uttered showed the voice and diction of a gentleman.  “My dear Captain,” he began, extending his hand as he approached, “I am indeed charmed!  What a delight to see you again in our part of the world!  I must claim the pleasure of having met you once—­two years ago, in St. Louis.  Are you again on your way to the frontiers?”

The tone of inquiry in his voice was just short of curious, indeed might have been called expectant.  His gaze, admiring yet polite, had not wholly lost opportunity to list the attractions of this lady, whose name had not yet been given him.

The gentleman accosted declined to be thus definite; adding only, after the usual felicitations, “Yes, we are going down the river a little way on the Vernon here.”

“For some distance?”

“For quite a distance.”

“At least, this is not your first journey down our river?”

“I wish it might be the last.  The railway is opening up a new world to us.  The stage-coach is a thing of the past.”

“I wish it might be, for me!” rejoined the stranger.  “Unfortunately, I am obliged to go West from here over the National Road, to look at some lands I own out in Indiana.  I very much regret—­”

There was by this time yet more expectancy in his voice.  He still bowed, with respectful glances bent upon the lady.  No presentation came, although in the easy habit of the place and time, such courtesy might perhaps have been expected.  Why this stiffness among fellow travelers on a little river packet?

[Illustration:  He still bowed, with respectful glances.]

The tall man was not without a certain grave audacity.  A look of amusement came to his face as he gazed at the features of the other, now obviously agitated, and not a little flushed.

“I had not known that your sister—­” he began.  His hand thus forced, the other was obliged to reply:  “No, the daughter of an old friend of mine, you see—­we are en voyage together for the western country.  It has simply been my fortune to travel in company with the lady.  I present you, my dear sir, to Miss Barren.  My dear Miss Barren, this is State Senator Warville Dunwody, of Missouri.  We are of opposite camps in politics.”

The tall man bowed still more deeply.  Meantime, Josephine St. Auban in her own way had taken inventory of the new-comer.  Her companion hastily sought to hold matters as they were.