“’Tis wonderful fine t’ be lettin’ un know so quick. Now I’m thinkin’ th’ skipper’ll get word t’ mother soon’s he can. Dad’s off t’ th’ Labrador by this, though, fishin’, an’ he won’t be hearin’ for a month.”
The clerk at the desk greeted Amesbury as an old acquaintance, shook his hand, and handed him a pen to register.
Following a luxurious wash came a thick, rare, juicy steak smothered in onions, an array of vegetables, a delicious salad, double portions of pudding and coffee, to which the party brought trapper appetites.
“Now for business,” said Amesbury, lighting a fragrant cigar. “We’ll get a carriage and bring up our furs and see what they’ll bring us. Then you chaps had better get some civilized toggery.”
The afternoon was a busy one. Furs were commanding a good figure, and when the sales were made Paul found himself in possession of $470, and Dan received $560, as their share of the fur money.
Amesbury then guided them to a clothing store where complete outfits, from hats to shoes, were purchased for both. Paul insisted upon paying Dan’s bill for everything as well as his own.
“We’ll fix that later,” he said. “I’ll pay the bills now, and when we get to New York, and find out how much the trip costs, we can have our settlement.”
“An’ you keeps th’ account,” assented Dan. Then they purchased their railway and sleeping car tickets for the following day, and returned to the hotel to bathe and don their new clothing.
“A telegram for one of the young gentlemen,” announced the clerk, as they entered the hotel and stopped at the desk for their keys. It was for Paul. He refrained from opening it until they reached their rooms. Then with trembling hand he broke the seal and read:
“Thank God, my boy, you’re safe. Mother and I leave at once to meet you in Toronto when your train arrives. Have wired Captain Bluntt. Bring Dan Rudd with you.
“Father.”