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For an hour he looked at the town in the valley and thought of himself. He was half proud, half ashamed of the thing that had happened. In the blue eyes of McGregor anger flashed quick and sudden. Upon the streets of Coal Creek he walked, swinging along, his great body inspiring fear. His mother grown grave and silent worked in the offices of the mines.
"Had any of them tried to borrow from the bank recently?" "No; in fact, none of them had drawn out the balances due them." "Please give me a list of their balances on that day," I said; "just give me a memorandum of the amounts standing to each one's credit." "Whose accounts shall we give you?" asked Mr. McGregor, evidently wondering what object I had in view. "Well, let me have those of Mr.
McGregor of Bolheldies, in a most sincere manner, that he wanted He should undertake His Service, as formerly: Bolheldies refused to undertake anything for him, till such time, as He was reconciled with his Father, and make acknowledgements for His Misconduct to the King of France, and then, that He was willing to enter upon His affairs only, in concert with the Earl of Mareschal, and none other, for that He could not trust any about Him: Upon which, the Pretender's Son wrote Him a second time, assuring Bolheldies, that He would be entirely advised by Him, and at the same time, that He expected no see Him soon, when things would be concerted to His Satisfaction.
Then as in the brave days that followed the man caught irresistibly the imagination of writing men, himself dumb in written or spoken words except in the heat of an inspired outburst when he expressed perfectly that pure brute force, the lust for which sleeps in the souls of artists. Unlike the men the beautifully gowned women at the reception had no fear of McGregor.
It took ingenuity, persistence, and some degree of danger on the part of the clan to accomplish these things, but one could depend upon finding these qualities in any Campbell or McGregor, and Sandy, having been made a blood brother, faithfully lived up to the duties it entailed.
Andrew Leffingwell, the political representative in Chicago of a rich and successful publisher of sensational newspapers, had visited him in his office and had proposed to make him a political figure in the city. Finley a noted criminal lawyer had offered him a partnership. The lawyer, a small smiling man with white teeth, had not asked McGregor for an immediate decision.
Before his eyes on the field, fronting the waiting ranks of men, stood McGregor. His fist shot out and the complaining workman crumpled to the ground. "This is no time for words," said the harsh voice. "Get back in there. This is not a game. It's the beginning of men's realisation of themselves. Get in there and say nothing. If you can't march with us get out.
One night a man whose name appeared on their books followed by a long record of charged loaves came reeling past the bakery. McGregor went to his mother and protested. "They have money to get drunk," he said, "let them pay for their loaves." Nance McGregor went on trusting the miners.
Bella, the daughter of Peter McGregor, was supposed to be dear to Big Mack's heart. "What a peety she could not see him the now," said Finlay Campbell. "Man alive, she would say the word queeck!" "'Tis more than she will do to you whatever, if you cannot keep off that crapeau yonder a little better," said Big Mack, reaching for a Frenchman who kept dodging in upon him with annoying persistence.
At lunch, a telegram from Charles Grey, Baltimore, said, "Penhallow here, doing well. Will return on the 14th, by afternoon train, with Rivers and servant." "Read that, dear I want you, Leila, to ride to the mills and tell Dr. McGregor that I will send the carriage for him in time for him to meet your uncle at the station.
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