"Wah-na-gi, Mr. Cadger wants to tell you before these gentlemen that he made a mistake, that he would like to beg your pardon. Mr. Cadger wants to apologize."
"Like hell I do," growled the trader.
"Calthorpe," called out the agent; "you're the one that's making the mistake. You're going too far. I won't stand for this."
"Oh, yes, I think you will," asserted the boy quietly.
The agent gave him a swift look, trying to determine how far he had gone or would go. Something had gone wrong. The machinery had slipped a cog, but how far wrong was it? Could it be repaired? Could it be fixed up? Was it a strike for higher pay? Or was it the eternal woman interfering and putting them at cross purposes? His own interest in the woman, guarded with the greatest care, kept under lock and key, in the dark, had this boy seen a furtive glance, the flash of a hidden desire? He must proceed cautiously until he saw the other's hand and knew his cards. Still, this boy must be taught his place.
"I want you to understand I'm the agent, Calthorpe."
"Yes, that's why you'll protect this woman from insult."
"You leave that to me. This is outside our business, and——"
"As the insult became a part of our proceedings," said McCloud calmly, "it seems right for the apology to be included."
"Parson," exclaimed McShay, delighted; "you're a sport, and I'll back any play you make."