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Updated: September 7, 2025
The banker listened with equanimity as he sat on the back of his neck with his fingers interlaced across his smart bottle-green waistcoat. Wentz's lack of enthusiasm only increased Toomey's eagerness. He leaned forward and declared with all vehemence: "Look at the territory I could cover, if I had an automobile!
"Git to H out of that!" he commanded in a sharp voice. Lone Wolf cocked his head to the other side interrogatively. He had been spoken to by Toomey in that voice of authority, but the words were new to him. He felt that he was expected to do something, but he knew not what. He liked the voice it was something like Toomey's.
This would rouse all the other beasts to a frenzy of wails and screeches and growls and roars; till Toomey would have to come and stop his performance by darkening the cage with a tarpaulin. At the sound of Toomey's voice, soothing yet overmastering, the great wolf would lie down quietly, and the ghostly summons of his far-ravaging fathers would haunt his spirit no more.
There had been two great performances, afternoon and evening. And now, after the last performance, some of Toomey's old-time acquaintances were making things pleasant for him in the bar of the Continental. "I don't see how ye do it, Job!" said Sanderson, an old river-man who had formerly trapped and hunted with Toomey.
Toomey gasped as Hugh stepped from the semidusk of the corridor into the light. The thing he had feared most since some ugly perversity of his nature had kept him silent because of his dislike of Mormon Joe and Kate had come to pass. In the swift movement of events, matters of more interest were transpiring than Toomey's nervous collapse.
She could scarcely have begged for her life with more earnestness. "I am very fond of you," Mrs. Toomey evaded. She did not look at her. Kate regarded her steadily. Laying down the hand she had taken she asked quietly: "Will you tell me something truthfully, Mrs. Toomey?" Mrs. Toomey's mind, ratlike, scuttled hither and thither, wondering what was coming. "If I can," uneasily.
To-day Toomey's feet as a means of locomotion seemed all too slow as he covered the distance intervening between his home and the bank. His black eyes were brilliant with caffeine and the excitement attendant upon a large and highly satisfactory idea which had come to him in the night. Having obtained a hearing, he rolled a cigarette with tremulous fingers while he unfolded his plan to Mr. Wentz.
He liked the smell of Timmins' homespun shirt it, too, was something like Toomey's. He became suddenly anxious to please this stranger. But what was wanted of him? He half arose to his feet, and glanced around to see if, perchance, the inexplicable order had been addressed to some one else. As he turned, Timmins saw, half hidden in the heavy fur of the neck, a stout leather collar.
This left Graham and Toomey alone in the cab, and Toomey's first question was, "What can you do now, sir?" "Find Nolan," was the brief answer, "and get to the bottom of this." "Orders may come any minute," said Toomey, looking anxiously over his shoulder. "We'll have to pull out and go ahead. You couldn't stay here at Argenta, could you?" "I may have to. Here's Cullin now."
Toomey looked and listened with a return of much of her old-time admiration, though the cause for Toomey's present state of exultation was, in its inception, due to her own suggestion. "I'll show these pinheads something," Toomey boasted. "The day'll come," he levelled at his wife an impressive finger, "when they'll nudge each either and say, 'There goes Toomey's Dog!" Mrs.
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