We put one over on you,
McNabb, and you might as well be a sport and make the best of it."
The old Scot nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe ye're right," he admitted.
"But wasn't it a bit scurvy trick ye played me, acceptin' my money an'
usin' it to double-cross me?"
"Business, my dear man! Merely business! I saw my chance, and I took
it, that's all. Ten thousand a year, and a ten percent interest in a
paper mill isn't so poor--and I'm not yet thirty. It takes brains to
make money, and you can bet I'll make my money before my brain begins
to slip cogs. It's expensive--this slipping of cogs."
"Maybe ye're right," repeated McNabb.
"I'll tell the world I'm right! It won't be but a few years till I'll
be the big noise around this part of Canada! Brains to figure out a
proposition, and nerve to carry it through--that's all it takes to make
this old world pay up what it owes you."
"How he hates himself!" exclaimed Jean, and from his position in the
shadows, Hedin saw that her eyes flashed.
His heart gave a great bound, and it was with an effort that he
restrained himself from pushing into the group. Was it possible--? A
step sounded outside, and the next moment the screen door swung open to
admit the figure of a man who strode into the lamp-light and glanced
about the faces of the assembly.
The man was Cameron.
"A fine two days' stay you made of your trip to the mill site," he
grumbled, addressing Wentworth.
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