“Quit!” Jimmy began indignantly; but he caught Bethune’s warning look and added lamely, “Oh, well; I suppose it’s by Mr. Clay’s orders?”
“No, sir,” the foreman answered unguardedly; “Mr. Aynsley had nothing to do with it. He didn’t even know—” He broke off abruptly. “Anyhow, you’re fired!”
He turned away from them quickly; and Bethune, sitting down on a pile of lumber, took out his pipe.
“Since I’ve got my notice with no reason given,” he drawled, “I don’t see why I should exhaust myself by carrying heavy planks about. Of course you noticed his statement that Mr. Aynsley was not responsible—though the fellow was afterward sorry he had made it. I’m of the opinion that there’s something to be inferred from his use of our employer’s Christian name, particularly as a big automobile stood at the gate for two hours yesterday. I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that Clay, senior, had examined the pay-roll.”
“What’s the blamed hog aiming at in getting after us like this?” questioned Moran.
Bethune looked thoughtful.
“He may wish to drive us out of the country; but I’m more inclined to believe he means to wear us out, and then make some proposition when he thinks we’re tame enough.”
“He’ll be badly disappointed if he expects we’ll come to terms!” Jimmy strode up and down, his face flushed with anger. “Anyway, I can’t believe that Aynsley knows anything about this.”
“He doesn’t.” Bethune smiled grimly. “I know by experience how the scapegrace son tries to conceal his escapades from his respectable relatives, but I rather think the unprincipled parent who doesn’t want his children to find him out is more ingenious. All this, however, isn’t much to the purpose; we’ll have the boys down on us unless we clear the lumber from the saws.”
They left the mill the next morning and tramped back to Vancouver in a generally dejected mood.