There was a question in both their hearts—­a question that rose up and asserted itself with more and more pertinacity as the hours wore on—­but both hesitated to give it voice—­both kept silence —­and—­waited.  But a time came at last when the matter would bear delay no longer.  The boat had landed, and the dead and the wounded were being conveyed to the shore.  The tired child was asleep in the arms of Mrs. Hawkins.  Mr. Hawkins came into their presence and stood without speaking.  His eyes met his wife’s; then both looked at the child—­and as they looked it stirred in its sleep and nestled closer; an expression of contentment and peace settled upon its face that touched the mother-heart; and when the eyes of husband and wife met again, the question was asked and answered.

When the Boreas had journeyed some four hundred miles from the time the Hawkinses joined her, a long rank of steamboats was sighted, packed side by side at a wharf like sardines, in a box, and above and beyond them rose the domes and steeples and general architectural confusion of a city—­a city with an imposing umbrella of black smoke spread over it.  This was St. Louis.  The children of the Hawkins family were playing about the hurricane deck, and the father and mother were sitting in the lee of the pilot house essaying to keep order and not greatly grieved that they were not succeeding.

“They’re worth all the trouble they are, Nancy.”

“Yes, and more, Si.”

“I believe you!  You wouldn’t sell one of them at a good round figure?”

“Not for all the money in the bank, Si.”

“My own sentiments every time.  It is true we are not rich—­but still you are not sorry—–­you haven’t any misgivings about the additions?”

“No.  God will provide”

“Amen.  And so you wouldn’t even part with Clay?  Or Laura!”

“Not for anything in the world.  I love them just the same as I love my own:  They pet me and spoil me even more than the others do, I think.  I reckon we’ll get along, Si.”

“Oh yes, it will all come out right, old mother.  I wouldn’t be afraid to adopt a thousand children if I wanted to, for there’s that Tennessee Land, you know—­enough to make an army of them rich.  A whole army, Nancy!  You and I will never see the day, but these little chaps will.  Indeed they will.  One of these days it will be the rich Miss Emily Hawkins—­and the wealthy Miss Laura Van Brunt Hawkins—­and the Hon. George Washington Hawkins, millionaire—­and Gov.  Henry Clay Hawkins, millionaire!  That is the way the world will word it!  Don’t let’s ever fret about the children, Nancy—­never in the world.  They’re all right.  Nancy, there’s oceans and oceans of money in that land—­mark my words!”

The children had stopped playing, for the moment, and drawn near to listen.  Hawkins said: 

“Washington, my boy, what will you do when you get to be one of the richest men in the world?”