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"Why why, that's Jack Besmith! He worked for Mr. Massey all Winter. What is he doing here?" murmured Janice. She did not rise and expose herself to the fellow's gaze. For one thing, the ex-drug clerk looked very rough in both dress and person. His uncombed hair was littered with straw and bits of corn-blades from the fodder on which he had lain. His clothing was stained.
Janice, remembering the condition of the ex-drug clerk when he left Polktown for the woods, said heartily: "I should think she would be worried." "She tells me he tried to get back his job with Massey on Friday night the evening before he went off with Trimmins and Narnay. But I expect he'd got Mr. Massey pretty well disgusted. At any rate, the druggist turned him down, and turned him down hard."
"Hullo! here's the buddy we're waitin' for. How long d'ye s'pose he'll last, loggin?" Janice saw the ex-drug clerk, Jack Besmith, mounting the hill with a pack on his back. Rough as the two lumbermen were, Besmith looked the more dissolute character, despite his youth. The trio went away together, bound evidently for one of Elder Concannon's pieces of woodland, over the mountain.
But it was of Jack Besmith, the ex-drug clerk, that Janice Day thought as she sped on toward the seminary and not of the opening of the campaign against the liquor traffic in Polktown, which she felt had really been organized on this morning.
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