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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Upon my word, Dr. Bailey," he burst forth when once they were inside the grub-house, "it seems to me that you have carried things on with a high hand in this camp. You come in here, a perfect stranger, you head a mutiny, you lay up my foreman with a dangerous wound, with absolutely no authority from anyone. What in the blank, blank do you mean, anyway?"
First came the camp building, the bunkhouse, grub-house, office, blacksmith shop, and beyond these the glaring lights of a couple of saloons, while back nearer timber the "red lights," the curse and shame of railroad, lumber, and mining camps in British Columbia then and unto this day, cast their baleful lure through the snowy night.
The doctor's air was so entirely respectful and at the same time so masterful that Maclennan found himself walking meekly toward the grub-house behind the doctor, with Fahey, the smile on his face broader than ever, bringing up the rear. Maclennan caught the smile, but in the face of the doctor's quiet, respectful manner he found it difficult to rouse himself to wrath. He took refuge in bluster.
Cameron, we have reached our camp. Take off the bridle and blanket and let your pony go." Cameron did as he was told, and guided by the sound of the trader's voice made his way to a low log building which turned out to be the deserted "grub-house" of an old lumber camp. "Come along," cried the trader heartily. "Welcome to Fifty Mile Camp.
and leaving Cameron sorely perplexed as to what manner of man this might be; who one moment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend and again could welcome him with all the generous and genial hospitality he might show to a loved and long-lost friend. The icy cold woke Cameron as the grey light came in through the dirty windows and the cracks between the logs of the grub-house.
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