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Updated: June 25, 2025
"I see they don't," replied Whittaker dryly. "What did you pay, Jerrard, for having your canoe and truck carried across?" "Fifteen dollars for the duffel, and four dollars each for the guide, myself and you." "How's that for a tariff?" laughed the president. Then he took out his pencil and book and put a series of interrogations to Rowe.
He daubed the white face of the city man with an evil-smelling compound of tar and oil. Jerrard's mind was rapidly freeing itself from transportation worries. Then came the long paddle across Spinnaker Lake, with only the unfamiliar insecurity of a canoe beneath him, and after that the six-mile Poquette carry. By this time Jerrard had forgotten the P. K. & R. entirely.
The postmaster's eye singled out Seth Bowers, the guide. "Say, Seth," he inquired, "wa'n't your sports last summer named Whittaker and Jerrard the men ye had in on the Kennemagon waters?" "Yes." "Well, you boys listen to this," and the postmaster read the item with unction. "Looks 's if they were going ahead, and as if there wasn't so much wind to it, after all," observed one of the party.
Jerrard had been traffic-manager of the great P. K. & R. system for many years, and when he grew bilious and "blue" and very disagreeable, the doctor told him to go back into the woods so far that he would not think about tariff or rebates or competition for two months. Jerrard chose Kennegamon Lake.
After what seemed a long interval, and when Jerrard, dizzied by the bumps and the curves, believed that the end must be near, for six miles are but an inconsiderable item to the traffic-manager of a thousand-mile system, he asked how far they had come. The driver looked at the trees. "Wan mal', mabbee, an' some leetle more."
Peter closed the door quietly behind him, and went back to his study. Here at last was the moment for which he had been waiting. Jerrard should be expelled if he, Peter, died in the attempt. Jerrard was the school's best bowler; he was immensely popular ... it would, indeed, be a matter of life and death.
"I don't think I should spend much time climbing trees," replied Parker, smiling. "Do you understand that the man we send must take the whole undertaking on his own shoulders? Neither Mr. Jerrard nor myself cares to think about the matter, even." "I'll be glad to be instructed, sir."
President, G. Howard Whittaker; vice-president and general manager, George P. Jerrard; secretary and treasurer, A. L. Bevan. Capital stock $100,000; $5,000 paid in." After the postmaster had read that twice, he strode out of his little pen. Men in larrigans and leggings were huddled round the stove, for the autumn crispness comes early in the mountains.
"Jerrard," he had said, at parting, "if you find good fishing I'll follow you in two weeks. I need a little outdoor relaxation myself." Jerrard sent an enthusiastic letter right back by the tote-road driver. He took the word of his guide about the fishing in prospect.
The sounds were muffled; there was laughter and then some one cried out. He knew that it was Jerrard's study and he hated Jerrard more than any one in the school. The fellow was a huge stupid oaf, low down in the middle fourth, but the best bowler that the school had; yes, he hated him. He opened his study door and listened.
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