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Three years later, in 1902, May Bolles, now married to a Canadian, transferred her residence to Montreal, and succeeded in laying the foundations of the Cause in that Dominion. In London Mrs.
He saw the Chinaman steal from his kitchen. "Sam is tired of us," he said to Bolles. "Tired?" "Running away, I guess. I'd prefer a new situation myself. That's where you're deficient, Bolles. Only got sense enough to stay where you happen to be. Hello. What is he up to?" Sam had gone beside a window of the bunkhouse and was listening there, flat like a shadow.
Buoyed up on the whiskey, it glittered in their eyes and yelled mutinously in their voices. "I'm waiting all orders," said Bolles to Drake. "I haven't any," said Drake. "New ones, that is. We've sat down to see this meal out. Got to keep sitting." He leaned back, eating deliberately, saying no more to the buccaroos; thus they saw he would never leave the room till they did.
Among his henchmen was a man named Bolles." "Ah!" grimly. "He sent this man to New York to look up my past. In order to earn his money he brought back this lie, which is half a truth. Whether McQuade believes it or not is of no matter; it serves his purpose. Now, John!" John made no reply.
"I should not think a Chinaman would enjoy such comrades," ventured Mr. Bolles. "Chinamen don't have comrades in this country," said Brock, briefly. "They like his cooking. It's a lonesome section up there, and a Chinaman could hardly quit it, not if he was expected to stay. Suppose they kick about the whiskey rule?" he suggested to Drake. "Can't help what they do.
He was very drunk; he himself did not realize how drunk he was till he started for the door. He staggered and lurched against the sideboard. His hat rolled from his head. An attendant quickly recovered it, and Bolles slapped it on his head. "Get out o' the way! It's a snide game, anyhow. You've got wires on the machine. You've got seven hundred o' my money, and you give me ten! Hell!"
"Well, then, that's all. Good luck. No boozing while you're on the job Afterward I don't care what you do. By-by." Bolles took his dismissal smilingly. Five hundred. It was easy. "If it's possible, he'll do it," said Martin. "But what's your campaign?" "Donnelly must remain another term. After that, oblivion. There'll be bids this fall. If Henderson's man wins, there'll be new aldermen.
Bolles, the parts in their smooth hair going with all the rest of this propriety. Even the daily tin dishes were banished in favor of crockery. "Bashful of Sam's napkins, boys?" said the boss. "Or is it the bald-headed china?" At this bidding they came in uncertainly. Their whiskey was ashamed inside.
"Oh, I said you were," yelled Drake, disgusted; and he gave over this effort at conversation as their horses rushed along. It was a dim, wide stretch of winter into which Drake and Bolles galloped from the howling pursuit.
Presently Bolles heard him reciting confidentially to his horse, "Twas the night after Christmas, and all in the house only we are not all in the house!" He slapped the belly of his horse Tyee, who gambolled away to the limit of his picket-rope. "Appreciating the moon, Bolles?" said he, returning at length to the fire. "What are you so gazeful about, father?"
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