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Updated: May 3, 2025
He thought of a window he had seen in far Quebec, where soft and brilliant furs were shown upon a flat surface to the most advantage. Why could he not with such display most impress McGlenn, the Scotch factor, with the importance of his hunting ground, and where could better display be made than upon the broad back of his squat squaw Bigbeam?
Down a pathway leading beside the storehouse came McGlenn, the factor, and his assistant, Johnson. They reached the window wherein Bigbeam was reposing and stopped in their tracks! They could not believe their eyes! Were they in Bond or Regent Street again!
"I tell you," said McGlenn, as they were going up the stairs, "that he needs our sympathy. He has suffered, but having suffered, he is great." Thus the weeks were sprinkled with light incidents, and thus the days dripped into the past and a designated future was drawing near. "Well," Witherspoon remarked one Sunday morning, "the time set by your insane friend will soon be up."
On a leather lounge a man lay asleep; at a round table a man sat, solemnly playing solitaire; and in one corner of the apartment sat several men, discussing an outrageous clause in the constitution that Henry had just signed. The new member was introduced to them. Among the number were John McGlenn, John Richmond and a shrewd little Yankee named Whittlesy.
"A life insurance company ought to employ you as a great joss, and charge people for the privilege of a mere glimpse of you." "I shouldn't think," said Richmond, "that a man who had committed murder in Nebraska would be so extreme as to pose as the president of a life insurance company." "Mr. Hammers, did you commit a murder in Nebraska?" McGlenn asked. "Oh, no."
"I don't think that he scraped up his principles from the Witherspoon side of the house," McGlenn declared. "If he had, we should at once have discovered in him the unmistakable trace of the hog. Oh, I don't think he will stay in the club very long. His tendency will be to drift away. All rich men are the enemies of democracy.
Papa knows that without adventure you make no discoveries. But, wow! he did make a monkey of me. Just think of a floor-walker making a monkey of papa!" He pressed his hand to his brow. "Why, a floor-walker has been my especial delicacy he has been my appetizer, my white-meat but, wow! this fellow was a gristle." "Mr. Flummers," said McGlenn, "we all love you." "Say, John, I owe you two dollars."
McGlenn got up, walked over to the piano, came back, looked at his watch, and addressing Richmond, asked: "Are you going home, John?" "Yes, John. Suppose we walk." "I'll go you; come on." They bade Henry good evening and together walked off affectionately. "What do you think of our new friend?" Richmond asked as they strolled along. "John, he has suffered. He is a great man."
Richmond put his hand to his mouth. "At some playful time," said he, "I might seek to confound the wise, but I should never so far forget myself as to make an experiment on you." "Mr. Witherspoon," remarked McGlenn, "we will turn from this rude barbarian and give our attention to Mr. Whittlesy, who knows all about dogs."
They halted for a moment; they had been fierce in argument. Now they were calm. "Can't you come over to-night, John?" McGlenn asked. "No, I can't possibly come to-night, John. I've got a piece of work on hand and must get it off. I've neglected it too long already." But he did go over that night, and he wrangled with McGlenn until twelve o'clock.
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