Hammond was sure he saw first impatience then anger come into Yvonne’s dark face as the Rev. Nathan Stubbs conversed with her in guarded undertones. Suddenly she swept away from him with a stamp of her little foot and went direct to the office of Acey Smith, where she entered without rapping.
The tug took off little freight and took on less. Its whistle gave a sharp warning blast.
Hammond raced down to the dock. The deck-hands were actually pulling up the gang-plank and unsnubbing the hawsers.
He held out his pass for the mounties to see as he went by, conscious that some one was racing at his heels. A strong hand reached out and clutched at his shoulder, and he flung it off unceremoniously. The gang-plank was up, but he cleared the space between the edge of the dock and the tug’s low deck in a flying leap.
He turned to see the Rev. Nathan Stubbs being unceremoniously yanked back off the dock by policemen as he continued to gesticulate in a wild, appealing fashion at Hammond.
CHAPTER XIII
“THEM WAS ROARING DAYS!”
I
As the tug swung out with a great churning astern, Hammond caught the eye of the skipper looking out of the wheel-house above. Chuckling over the antics of the chagrined camp preacher, he jerked his head for Hammond to come up.
“Take a seat.” The genial-faced captain motioned Hammond to the cushioned bench at the back of the tiny wheel-house. “The sky-pilot seemed to be all fussed up about something, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” replied Hammond. “I’m at a loss to know what came over him all of a sudden. As a rule he never appeared to notice I existed around the camp.”