Bethune smiled grimly.
“I think we’re marked men. We’ll find out presently whether I’m right.”
Bethune’s forebodings proved correct, for only a few days elapsed before Moran joined him and Jimmy in Vancouver. After spending a week in searching for employment they got work with a lumber-rafting gang and kept it for a fortnight, when they were dismissed without any convincing reason being given.
On the evening after their return to the city they sat in a corner of the comfortless lobby at the hotel. It was quiet there because the other boarders lounged in tilted chairs before the big windows with their hats on and their feet supported by the radiator pipes, watching the passers-by.
“I came across the fellow we got the pumps from this afternoon,” Jimmy remarked. “The last time I saw him he was fairly civil, but he’s turned abusive now. Wanted to know when we were going to pay him the rest of his money, and made some pointed observations about our character.”
“That won’t hurt us,” laughed Bethune. “As we have nothing to give him and the sloop’s safely hidden, he can’t make much trouble. I heard something more interesting. An acquaintance of mine mentioned that they had a big lot of lumber to cut at the Clanch mill and wanted a few more men. If we could get a job there, we might hold it.”
“It seems to me we can’t hold anything,” Jimmy grumbled. “Why that?”
Bethune chuckled in a manner that indicated that he knew more than he meant to tell.
“Boldness often pays, and I imagine that our mysterious enemies won’t think of looking for us at the Clanch mill. We’ll go out there to-morrow.”
They found it a long walk over a wet road, for soon after they left the city rain began to fall. On applying at the mill gate, they were sent to the office, and Jimmy was standing, wet and moody, by the counter, waiting until a supercilious clerk could attend to him, when an inner door opened and a young man came out. Jimmy started as he recognized the yachtsman they had met on the island; but Aynsley moved forward with a smile.