“Very well,” he said. “I stick to the spanner.”
“That’s so,” Railton agreed, and seized Kit’s hand.
The current swept Kit into the tree, and crawling through the branches, he reached the bank. Railton pulled him up a steep pitch, and at the top they saw a man on the path whose clothes were not a workman’s clothes.
“Mr. Austin! Now I beat it,” said Railton, and plunged into the trees.
Kit stopped. He was battered, and doubted if he could go very fast. Moreover, to jump for the brush was ridiculous. He turned and faced the young fellow who gave him the cigarettes at Winnipeg station. Austin studied him with a twinkle. Kit’s face was cut and the water ran from his greasy clothes.
“You have rather obviously got up against it,” Austin remarked. “What was the trouble?”
“I don’t know that it was very important. Railton claimed a spanner I didn’t think was his,” Kit replied.
“A forge spanner? Well, I’ve known Bill grumble about his tools vanishing, but a number of the boys stopped for some minutes to watch the fight, and the company won’t stand for your holding up the gang.”
“I was not at all keen to fight, but I felt I must get the spanner,” said Kit, in an apologetic voice.
“Steve Railton’s a hefty fellow,” Austin remarked. “Since you threw him off the stage, perhaps your jumping after him was humorous.”