“Oh yes,” answered Nasmyth indifferently. “As a matter of fact, I’ve had to, when there was very little else to eat.”
George, who was big and lank, and truculent in appearance, nodded.
“Juss so!” he rejoined. “You’ve been up against it in the Bush. Anybody could figure on that by the look of you and the way you use your hands. A city man takes holds of things as if they were going to hurt him. That’s kind of why I froze on to you.”
Nasmyth took this as a compliment, and smiled his acknowledgment, for George was a privileged person, and most of his recent companions held democratic views. He, however, said nothing, and George went on again.
“Mrs. Acton’s a mighty smart woman, but she plays some fool tricks,” he commented. “Where’s the blame use in taking a boatload of folks after trout when none of them but the boss knows how to fish?” Then he chuckled. “You’d have gone with the rest this morning if she wanted you to. Guess the gig would have carried another one quite nicely.”
Nasmyth fancied that this was possible, though he naturally would not admit it to his companion. The fact that his hostess had somewhat cleverly contrived to leave him behind had its significance, since it seemed to indicate that she recognized that Miss Hamilton regarded him with a certain amount of favour.
“Well,” said George reflectively, “the boss is quite smart, too! Mrs. Acton crowded you out of the gig. The boss says nothing, but he knocks off that blame Martial. That makes the thing even, and, unless he 152 does it, none of them gets any fish. Now, it kind of seems to me that for a girl like Miss Hamilton to look at a man like Martial is a throwing of herself away. I guess it strikes you like that, too?”
This was rather too pointed a question for Nasmyth to answer, but, so far as it went, he could readily have agreed with the skipper. As a matter of fact it suggested the query why he should object to Miss Hamilton throwing herself away.
“Well,” he observed, “I’m not quite sure that it’s any concern of mine.”
George’s grin was expressive of good-natured toleration. “Oh!” he replied, “I guess that’s plain enough for me. You’re not going to talk about the boss’s friends. Still, one man’s as good as another in this country, and, if I wasn’t way better than Martial, I’d drown myself. That’s the kind of pernicious insect a decent man has no use for. What’s he come on board for with three bags ram full of clothes, when many a better man humps his outfit up and down the Bush in an old blanket same as you have done? It’s a sure thing that no man with a conscience wants to get into the land agency business. It’s an institution for selling greensuckers ranching land that’s rock and gravel and virgin forest. Besides, I heard the blame insect telling Miss Hamilton that nobody not raised in the hog-pen could drink my coffee.”