Then Paul and Dan turned to go.
“Hold on! You’ll stay in the men’s house with the others. Are those the only clothes you have?”
“All except some underclothes,” answered Paul.
“Well, they’ll not be enough for winter. James,” to the chief clerk, “have adikeys made for these fellows, and some duffel socks and deerskin moccasins, and a pair of mittens for each. Now if you fellows prove yourselves useful you can stay here for the winter, and if you don’t I’ll kick you both out of the post. You may go.”
It was an effort for Paul to restrain himself from making a defiant reply, but he realized in time that this might get them into trouble. He felt incensed that his word had not been taken, when he promised that his father would pay his own and Dan’s expenses. He was on the whole very glad, however, that even this arrangement had been made, for the storm had brought him a realization of the fruitlessness of any attempt to live in the open with their insufficient equipment, together with the uncertainty of killing sufficient game to sustain them.
And so Paul Densmore, the only son of a king of finance, a youth who would one day be a multi-millionaire in his own right, was glad enough to earn his living as a common laborer.