Gerald smiled.
"You're rather a sordid beggar, Ralph; but as that's often a sign of prosperity, it makes me hopeful. I want you to lend me two hundred pounds."
"Impossible!" said Kenwyne firmly.
"One hundred and fifty, then?"
"Equally out of the question. All I have is sunk in stock, and earmarked for next year's operations." Kenwyne paused and considered. He knew the chances were slight that the money would ever be returned; yet he respected Colonel Mowbray, and his loyalty extended to the family of the head of Allenwood. "Why do you want the money?" he asked.
"I suppose I'll have to tell you. It goes back to India—what you might call a 'debt of honor.' I borrowed the money in London to square it; and thought when I came to Canada I'd be too far away for the London fellow to put undue pressure on me. Oh, I meant to pay sometime, when I was ready; but the fellow transferred the debt to a man at Winnipeg, who has sent me a curt demand with an extortionate bill of expenses. Now I have to pay."
"I suppose you have been round the settlement?"
"Yes; but I haven't collected much. In fact, I'm afraid I'll have to pledge my farm."
"You can't do that. Our foundation covenant forbids a settler to alienate his land without the consent of a majority in the council, subject to the president's veto. Your father would certainly use his veto."
"Very true," Gerald agreed. "However, I don't propose to alienate my land—only to pawn it for a time."