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Updated: May 18, 2025
When we came to the Dawson River, near Mrs. McNabb's station, it was in flood. We felled a big tree across the stream, and with boughs and other timber, improvised a bridge. For three days we were working in our shirts only, getting the sheep and when the water fell the teams across. Mosquitoes, sandflies, and a hot sun made us nearly raw.
"So you are McNabb's man?" queried Cameron with a smile, as he swung his pack to the floor and seated himself upon the edge of a bunk. "Do you know, we rather hoped I would not find you here." "Why?" asked Wentworth, returning the smile. "Pulp-wood has gone up since that contract was made. If the stuff were to revert to us we could do much better with it." "How much better?"
An' what's the good of it? When ye might be living up here in the land that still lays as God made it. The Company can use men like you. You could have a post of your own in a year's time." For many minutes Hedin puffed at his pipe. "I am glad to hear that," he said at length, "for I am not going back." "Not going back!" cried Murchison. "D'ye mean it? An' what about that lass of John McNabb's?"
"McNabb's options hold good until twelve o'clock." "I am anxious to get back," said Orcutt, offering his cigar case, "but I don't want to return without having a look at the mill site. How far is it from here?" "About forty miles. If you leave here right after noon you will make it before noon to-morrow." "I'll do it, and return the following day."
"How is everything in Terrace City?" asked Wentworth, as he lighted his cigar. "Oh, about as usual, I guess. Been so damned busy getting this paper deal in shape for the last two months that I haven't had much time to keep track of things. By the way, you remember Hedin that clerk in old John McNabb's fur department?" "Yes, I believe I do."
"Run, laddie, and tell the folk at Peter McNabb's shop there will be a jam at the Narrows!" Archie was off down a cross track like a hare, Collie after him. Duncan stooped down, feeling among the underbrush, and caught up a stout pole. Grasping it he made his way hurriedly down the bank and along the water's edge to the quaking, seething mass.
He had tried so hard to do his best, but there was something sadly wrong, he could not quite understand what. He was beginning to fear that Mrs. McNabb's warning that "Glenoro church was full of old cranks" was only too true.
He would teach these young fools a lesson, and at the same time find out which way the wind blew. With a clenching of his fists, he whirled abruptly upon Hedin. "What did ye do with the coat?" he roared. "It'll go easier with ye if ye tell me!" "What do you mean?" cried Hedin, white to the lips, meeting McNabb's gaze with a look of mingled surprise, pain, and anger. "I mean just what I say.
Jean with the red blood coursing through her veins, her glow of health, and the sparkle of her eyes McNabb's own daughter. "And, yet, I can't suggest it because " Hedin muttered aloud and scowled at the floor. "I'd have asked her before this," he went on, "if that Wentworth hadn't butted in. Who knows anything about him, anyway? I'll ask her this afternoon."
She's had four pretty hard days on the trail, an' she'd be the better for a comfortable bunk." "The lass!" exclaimed Murchison. "Jean! Here!" Strong fingers gripped McNabb's arm, and he stared in astonishment into the face of Sven Larsen. The loose-lipped, vapid expression was gone, and the blue-gray eyes stared into his own with burning intensity. "You don't mean ? Why, Oskar lad!" "Sh sh.
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