"Huh! Coley heap fool! Get chicken, quick! meat shop, small, eh?"The Chinaman was at last aroused. Pots, pans, and other utensils were in immediate requisition, a roaring fire set a-going, and in three-quarters of an hour the colonel sat down to a dinner of soup, fish, and fowl, with various entrees and side dishes that would have done credit to a New York chef. Thus potent was the name of the boss with his cook.
John's excellent dinner did much to soothe and mollify his guest;but the colonel was sensitive to impressions other than the purely gastronomic, for throughout the course of the dinner, his eyes wandered to the photographs on the wall, and in fancy he was once more in the presence of the two women, to whom he felt pledged in Ranald's behalf. "It's a one-horse looking country, though," he said to himself, "and no place for a man with any snap. Best thing would be to pull out, I guess, and take him along." And it was in this mind that he received the Honorable Archibald Blair, M. P. P., for New Westminster, president of the British Columbia Canning Company, recently organized, and a director in half a dozen other business concerns.
"Colonel Thorp, this is Mr. Blair, of the British Columbia Canning Company," said Coley, with a curious suggestion of Ranald in his manner.
"Glad to welcome a friend of Mr. Macdonald's," said Mr. Blair, a little man of about thirty, with a shrewd eye and a kindly frank manner.
"Well, I guess I can say the same," said Colonel Thorp, shaking hands. "I judge his friends are of the right sort.""You'll find plenty in this country glad to class themselves in that list," laughed Mr. Blair; "I wouldn't undertake to guarantee them all, but those he lists that way, you can pretty well bank on.
He's a young man for reading men."
"Yes?" said the colonel, interrogatively; "he's very young.""Young, for that matter so are we all, especially on this side the water here. It's a young man's country.""Pretty young, I judge," said the colonel, dryly. "Lots of room to grow.""Yes, thank Providence!" said Mr. Blair, enthusiastically; "but there's lots of life and lots to feed it. But I'm not going to talk, Colonel. It is always wasted breath on an Easterner. I'll let the country talk. You are coming with us, of course.""Hardly think so; my time is rather limited, and, well, to tell the truth; I'm from across the line and don't cater much to your royalties.""Royalties!" exclaimed Mr. Blair. "Oh, you mean our governor.
Well, that's good rather, must tell the governor that." Mr. Blair laughed long and loud. "You'll forget all that when you are out with us an hour. No, we think it well to hedge our government with dignity, but on this trip we shall leave the gold lace and red tape behind.""How long do you propose to be gone?"
"About four weeks. But I make you a promise. If after the first week you want to return from any point, I shall send you back with all speed. But you won't want to, I guarantee you that. Why, my dear sir, think of the route," and Mr. Blair went off into a rapturous description of the marvels of the young province, its scenery, its resources, its climate, its sport, playing upon each string as he marked the effect upon his listener. By the time Mr.
Blair's visit was over, the colonel had made up his mind that he would see something of this wonderful country.
Next day Coley took him over the company's mills, and was not a little disappointed to see that the colonel was not impressed by their size or equipment. In Coley's eyes they were phenomenal, and he was inclined to resent the colonel's lofty manner. The foreman, Mr. Urquhart, a shrewd Scotchman, who had seen the mills of the Ottawa River and those in Michigan as well, understood his visitor's attitude better; and besides, it suited his Scotch nature to refuse any approach to open admiration for anything out of the old land.
His ordinary commendation was, "It's no that bad"; and his superlative was expressed in the daring concession, "Aye, it'll maybe dae, it micht be waur." So he followed the colonel about with disparaging comments that drove Coley to the verge of madness. When they came to the engine room, which was Urquhart's pride, the climax was reached.
"It's a wee bit o' a place, an' no fit for the wark," said Urquhart, ushering the colonel into a snug little engine-room, where every bit of brass shone with dazzling brightness, and every part of the engine moved in smooth, sweet harmony.
"Slick little engine," said the colonel, with discriminating admiration.
"It's no that bad the noo, but ye sud hae seen it afore Jem, there, took a hand o' it--a wheezin' rattlin' pechin thing that ye micht expect tae flee in bits for the noise in the wame o't. But Jemmie sorted it till it's nae despicable for its size. But it's no fit for the wark. Jemmie, lad, just gie't its fill an' we'll pit the saw until a log," said Urquhart, as they went up into the sawing-room where, in a few minutes, the colonel had an exhibition of the saw sticking fast in a log for lack of power.
"Man, yon's a lad that kens his trade. He's frae Gleska. He earns his money's warth.""How did you come to get him?" said the colonel, moved to interest by Urquhart's unwonted praise.
"Indeed, just the way we've got all our best men. It's the boss picked him oot o' the gutter, and there he is earnin' his twa and a half a day.""The boss did that, eh?" said the colonel, with one of his swift glances at the speaker.
"Aye, that he did, and he's only one o' many.""He's good at that sort of business, I guess.""Aye, he kens men as ye can see frae his gang.""Doesn't seem to be able to make the company's business pay,"ventured the colonel.
"D'ye think ye cud find one that cud?" pointing to the halting saw.
