Jack smiled. “I shall be only too glad to give any assistance I can; but if Mr. Zahn prefers to travel by himself, of course there is the bare chance that he might get off the track and be lost.”
“I’ll risk it,” said the Jew. “I’d rather get lost than be thrown over a precipice.”
“Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Crewe, his voice and gesture expressive of the utmost astonishment. “This looks bad, Jack; this is a very bad beginning.”
“You mean that you don’t quite appreciate this gentleman’s overtures?” asked the Manager.
Zahn was silent.
“We had a small difference in a hotel,” said Jack. “But for my part I am quite willing to let bygones be bygones.”
Zahn scowled. “That may be so,” he said, “but I should prefer to travel alone.”
“Dear, dear; well, well,” said the Father of Timber Town. “But, after all, this is a mere matter of detail which can be settled by and by. If you go to the diggings, sir”—he turned his benignant gaze on the clerk—“you will not only be in a most responsible position, but you will be able to do such profitable business for your Bank, sir, that you will probably earn promotion.”
“It’s settled,” said the Manager. “We shall send a representative, and I hope that the arrangement will be satisfactory to all parties. I hope you are contented, Mr. Crewe.”
“Perfectly, my dear sir, perfectly,” said the Father of Timber Town.