The next day Jack Sawtooth showed up, tired out, fresh from the wilderness. He had received the General's telegram three days before, had not stopped for the letter following, but had said farewell to his father and joined a freight sledge down to Athabasca Landing, to seek out Charlie at Calgary.
"Glad to meet you," exclaimed Charlie when his visitor was dubiously announced by his landlady. The Cree boy was lithe, straight as an arrow, open-browed and keen of eye, with none of the somber gravity of his Indian blood. "I hardly thought you'd get here so quickly."
"I didn't know what was up," smiled Jack. "Say, this is a neat little room! Where did you get the bead-work? Why, you must be an old-timer! Mr. Schoverling has not written me very often, and only mentioned you a few times."
"I've knocked around quite a bit," admitted Charlie, glancing at the Indian bead-work and the pictures of camp and trail that hung on his wall. "Don't you know where we're going?"
"We're going elephant hunting in Africa," laughed Charlie. Jack stared at him.
"Africa? Say, Collins, don't try to give me heart-failure that way! What is it now, honest?"
"You wait," chuckled Charlie, bringing out the explorer's letter and reading over all that related to the trip. Not until Jack had set eyes on it himself would he believe that Charlie was in earnest. Then he sat back and stared again.
"Me—in Africa! Great Scott, am I dreaming or just crazy? Does he mean it?"
Charlie produced the good-sized check in evidence, and Jack's amazement soon gave way to calm acceptance of the situation.