He stopped and, addressing the old, old man, said: "What are you doing here?"
This annoyed me. I was on the point of asking very sharply what he wanted, anyway, when the expression of both made me pause.
On the old man's face, fear; on the newcomer's, anger, suspicion, greed, cruelty—a bad face of a bad man.
My curiosity was aroused; I answered the question.
"Your friend has been having a drink with me. Won't you have one?"
"No, I will not." Then, by way of an afterthought: "No, thank you very much." And the fellow smiled with his ugly mouth, but not with his eyes.
The intruder, as I now regarded him, seemed in a hurry to be gone.
"The canoe boys are waiting for us and we must go. Come along, Macdonald."
The old man turned his face towards me and, as he said good-bye, I saw a great fear in his eyes.
Ignoring the other, I begged him to stay the night and promised to try my best to mend his gun. He shook his head and turned slowly away.