"I did," Blake answered curtly. "If we are to remain friends, you'd better understand that I can't tolerate any further mention of the matter you talked about."
"Sorry," responded Benson, giving him a keen glance. "Though I don't think you have much cause to be touchy about it, I'll try to remember."
"Then I'd like you to know my partner, Mr. Harding, who has agreed to a suggestion I'm going to make. We want you to come with us on a trip to the northern bush."
"Thanks," said Benson, shaking hands with Harding. "I wonder what use you think I would be?"
"To tell the truth, I haven't considered whether you would be of any use or not. The trip will brace you up, and you look as if you needed it."
Benson's face grew red.
"Your intentions may be good, but you virtuous and respectable people sometimes show a meddlesome thoughtfulness which degenerates like myself resent. Besides, I suspect your offer has come too late."
"I don't think you have much reason for taunting me with being respectable," Blake answered with a grim smile. "Anyway, I want you to come with us."
Tilting back his chair, Benson looked heavily about.
"When I was new to the country, I often wished to go North," he said. "There are caribou and moose up yonder; great sights when the rivers break up in the spring; and a sled trip across the snow must be a thing to remember! The wilds draw me—but I'm afraid my nerve's not good enough. A man must be fit in every way to cross the timber belt."