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"If you get up, with this fever on you, and the leg in that state, you will have blood-poisoning," said Anderson quietly, "which will either kill you or detain you here for weeks. You say you want to talk business with me. Well, here I am. In an hour's time I must go to Calgary for an appointment. Suppose you take this opportunity." McEwen stared at his son.
"I don't like this place. Let's get out." Rodney has never managed to forget little Alec McEwen. For weeks after that bar-room encounter he was haunted by the vision of the small bright prying eyes, the fatuously cynical smile, and by the sound of the high crowing voice.
McEwen threw himself excitedly from side to side, unable to keep still. He knew Symonds a chap and a half! Why didn't he come and try it on this side of the line? Heaps of money going backwards and forwards over the railway! All these thousands of dollars paid out in wages week by week to these construction camps must come from somewhere in cash Winnipeg or Montreal.
I am most comfortable at least it is very strange, but I have lost my keys and my umbrella and my handbag I can't think what I can have done with them. Oh, and my purse is gone too!" Whereupon Mrs. McEwen in dismay, Mr. She received them with mingled joy and amazement, and having responded to Mrs.
McEwen found himself shaken by a kind of internal convulsion as he thought of the revelations that would come out. George was a fool. In his feverish reverie, many lines of thought crossed and danced in his brain; and every now and then he was tormented by the craving for alcohol. The Salvation Army proposal half amused, half infuriated him. He knew all about their colonies. Trust him!
Anderson paused a moment, then entered, hung the lamp he had brought with him on a peg, and closed the door behind him. He stood looking down at the sleeper, who was in the restless stage before waking. McEwen threw himself from side to side, muttered, and stretched.
The old man in the cabin bed watched them with fierce intentness; and as they straightened themselves and were about to follow their companions who were already out of sight, he gave a low call. The two started and looked round them. Their hands went to their pockets. McEwen swung himself round so as to reach the window better, and repeated his call this time with a different inflection.
"Run down where?" asked McEwen sharply. "To the mine, of course. I might spare the time next week." "No need to trouble yourself. My pardners wouldn't thank me for betraying their secrets." "Well, you couldn't expect me to provide the money without knowing a bit more about the property, could you? without a regular survey?" said Anderson, with a laugh.
McEwen was a fine example of the best type of Scottish character; warm of heart, honest of purpose, and full of a certain unconscious poetry, and a dignity that lingers still in districts where the railway whistle is not too often heard. Miss Du Prel seemed to nestle up to the good woman, as a child to its mother after some scaring adventure. Mrs.
McEwen rose with difficulty, groaning as he put his right foot to the ground. Anderson then perceived that the right foot and ankle were wrapped round with a bloodstained rag, and was told that the night before their owner had stumbled over a jug in Mrs. Ginnell's kitchen, breaking the jug and inflicting some deep cuts on his own foot and ankle.
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