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"Quick, Jimmy!" He cut the cords that pinioned the other's arms and hustled the speechless youth across the clearing. "Hi, there! Stop!" Red McIvor at the door of the shanty had just caught sight of them. He jumped back inside for a rifle. "Beat it!" yelled McCorquodale. "Under cover!" The bullets clipped twigs from the trees as the three plunged into the woods. "This way. Quick!
But McCorquodale's companions were a pair of flashily dressed young "sports" who, thinking they saw a chance for some fun at Kendrick's expense, had proceeded to tread upon Mr. McCorquodale's professional pride McCorquodale, one time known to ringside patrons as "Iron Man" McCorquodale, one time near middle-weight champion. "Y'see, it's this way," the ex-pugilist had explained earnestly.
I've been thinking out a plan for getting to the bottom of this law-breaking booze business that we've got a line on, but I need another man to work it out right, and you're elected." "Attaboy!" cried McCorquodale enthusiastically. "We can't get busy on it till Mr. Wade gets back from Montreal in a few days.
Down on the riverbank, a few hundred rods through the bush back of the station, a half-breed guide was waiting for them. He had a big birch-bark canoe and the five of them began to hustle their belongings off the platform. McCorquodale was forced to keep in the background until they had gone and he was afraid that he would lose them.
Wade what Kendrick had suggested to him at Sparrow Lake that the two of them work together on this bootlegging case, and the railroad president had then mentioned Phil's letter and his whereabouts and told McCorquodale to make for Thorlakson Siding and pass on instructions. Weiler bought a ticket for North Bay. There he had hung around for a day, apparently waiting for somebody.
Don't go rubbin' it in, kid!" protested Mr. McCorquodale hastily. "Y'r lamp's quit smokin', aint it? Ferget it. Them two guys I was with that night was a couple o' bums as was workin' fer Nickleby on a job an' I was just stringin' 'm along nice when you comes buttin' in an' rings down the curtain on me, see. I's workin' fer Brady then.
The possibility that the financier might be able to throw some light upon Ben Wade's object in placing McCorquodale on guard at Sparrow Lake at first seemed sufficient justification for broaching the matter. But on second thoughts, Phil hesitated; if his chief had not seen fit to mention it to his own secretary who was most vitally concerned, it was unlikely that he had said anything to Lawson.
McCorquodale had met a new arrival on the scene with a fierce uppercut that felled him like an ox and was slowly pressing a second arrival back into the bush with right and left swings to the face that landed so swift and sure that the fellow literally was blinded by the blows. It was Weiler, and the detective growled as he fought. The tide of battle gradually was turning.
To McCorquodale it was a gratifying prospect. Lead him to it! The night was exceptionally still, without a breath of air stirring the forest.
They talked of many things. Phil told her all about McCorquodale. They discussed politics and the Rives case and newspaper work and universities and music and the latest books. As the hours crept by their laughter and talk lessened and the spaces of silence between them grew longer.
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