"Oh, yes. I forgot. What a shame! What is the use of her killing herself that way?""There is much use," said Ranald, gravely. "They are ****** bad men good, and the whole countryside is new, and she is the heart of it all.""I have no doubt about that," said Mr. St. Clair. "She will be the head and heart and hands and feet.""You're just right, governor," said Harry, warmly. "There is no woman living like Aunt Murray."There was silence for a few moments. Then Mr. St. Clair said suddenly: "We are in an awful fix here. Not a man to be found that we can depend upon for book-keeper, clerk, or checker."Harry coughed slightly.
"Oh, of course, Harry is an excellent book-keeper," Harry bowed low; "while he is at it," added Mr. St. Clair.
"Very neat one," murmured the lieutenant.
"Now, father, do not spoil a fine compliment in that way," cried Harry.
"But now the checker is gone," said Mr. St. Clair, "and that is extremely awkward.""I say," cried Harry, "what will you give me for a checker right now?"Mr. St. Clair looked at him and then at the lieutenant.
"Pardon me, Mr. St. Clair," said that gentleman, holding up his hand. "I used to check a little at Rugby, but--""Not you, by a long hand," interrupted Harry, disdainfully.
"This awfully charming brother of yours, so very frank, don't you know!" said the lieutenant, softly, to Maimie, while they all laughed.
"But here is your man, governor," said Harry, laying his hand on Ranald.
"Ranald!" exclaimed Mr. St. Clair. "Why, the very man! You understand timber, and you are honest.""I will answer for both with my head," said Harry.
"What do you say, Ranald?" said Mr. St. Clair. "Will you take a day to think it over?""No," said Ranald; "I will be your checker." And so Ranald became part of the firm of Raymond & St. Clair.
"Come along, Ranald," said Harry. "We will take the girls home, and then come back to the office.""Yes, do come," said Kate, heartily. Maimie said nothing.
"No," said Ranald; "I will go back to the raft first, and then come to the office. Shall I begin tonight?" he said to Mr. St. Clair.
"To-morrow morning will do, Ranald," said Mr. St. Clair. "Come up to the hotel and see us tonight." But Ranald said nothing. Then Maimie went up to him.
"Good by, just now," she said, smiling into his face. "You will come and see us to-night, perhaps?"Ranald looked at her, while the blood mounted slowly into his dark cheek, and said: "Yes, I will come.""What's the matter with you, Maimie?" said Harry, indignantly, when they had got outside. "You would think Ranald was a stranger, the way you treat him.""And he is just splendid! I wish he had pulled ME out of the fire," cried Kate.
"You might try the river," said the lieutenant. "I fancy he would go in. Looks that sort.""Go in?" cried Harry, "he would go anywhere." The lieutenant made no reply. He evidently considered that it was hardly worth the effort to interest himself in the young lumberman, but before he was many hours older he found reason to change his mind.
After taking the young ladies to their hotel there was still an hour till the lieutenant's dinner, so, having resolved to cultivate the St. Clair family, he proposed accompanying Harry back to the office.
As they approached the lower portion of the town they heard wild shouts, and sauntering down a side street, they came upon their French-Canadian friend of the afternoon. He was standing with his back against a wall trying to beat off three or four men, who were savagely striking and kicking at him, and crying the while:
"Gatineau! Gatineau!"
It was the Gatineau against the Ottawa.
"Our friend seems to have found the object of his search," said the lieutenant, as he stood across the street looking at the melee.
"I say, he's a good one, isn't he?" cried Harry, admiring the Ottawa's dauntless courage and his fighting skill.
"His eagerness for war will probably be gratified in a few minutes, by the look of things," replied the lieutenant.
The Gatineaus were crowding around, and had evidently made up their minds to bring the Ottawa champion to the dust. That they were numbers to one mattered not at all. There was little chivalry in a shantymen's fight.
"Ha! Rather a good one, that," exclaimed the lieutenant, mildly interested. "He put that chap out somewhat neatly." He lit a cigar and stood coolly watching the fight.
"Where are the Ottawas--the fellow's friends?" said Harry, much excited.
"I rather think they camp on another street further down."The Ottawa champion was being sorely pressed, and it looked as if in a moment or two more he would be down.
"What a shame!" cried Harry.
"Well," said the lieutenant, languidly, "it's beastly dirty, but the chap's done rather well, so here goes."Smoking his cigar, and followed by Harry, he pushed across the street to the crowd, and got right up to the fighters.
"Here, you fellows," he called out, in a high, clear voice, "what the deuce do you mean, kicking up such a row? Come now, stop, and get out of here."The astonished crowd stopped fighting and fell back a little. The calm, clear voice of command and her majesty's uniform awed them.
"Mon camarade!" said the lieutenant, removing his cigar and saluting, "rather warm, eh?""You bet! Ver' warm tam," was the reply.
"Better get away, mon ami. The odds are rather against you," said the lieutenant. "Your friends are some distance down the next street. You better go along." So saying, he stepped out toward the crowd of Gatineaus who were consulting and yelling.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, politely, waving his little cane.
