It needed a
dam, and the great lumber-king was planning to make one not three hundred
yards from where they were.
The boy and the girl resting idly upon a great warm rock had their own
business to consider. The boy kept looking at his boots with the
brass-tipped toes. He hated them. The girl was quick to understand. "Why
don't you like your boots?" she asked.
A whimsical, exasperated look came into his face. "I don't know why they
brass a boy's toes like that, but when I marry I won't wear them--that's
all," he replied.
"Why do you wear them now?" she asked, smiling.
"You don't know my father."
"He's got plenty of money, hasn't he?" she urged. "Plenty; and that's
what I can't understand about him! There's a lot of waste in
river-driving, timber-making, out in the shanties and on the river, but
he don't seem to mind that. He's got fads, though, about how we are to
live, and this is one of them." He looked at the brass-tipped boots
carefully. A sudden resolve came into his face. He turned to the girl and
flushed as he spoke. "Look here," he added, "this is the last day I'm
going to wear these boots. He's got to buy me a pair without any brass
clips on them, or I'll kick."
"No, it isn't the last day you're going to wear them, Carnac.
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