"You have come!" he cried. "It is well!"
Ambrose was surprised and a little disconcerted to see the grim old patriarch so moved.
"Where is your outfit?" Simon asked anxiously.
"Half a day behind me," said Ambrose. "It is safe."
"Have you flour?" asked Simon.
"Flour? No!" said Ambrose staring. "With twenty thousand bushels of wheat here?'"
"Have you got a little mill?"
Ambrose shook his head. "There was none in Prince George," he said. "I had to telegraph to the East. It had not arrived when I was ready to start, and I couldn't wait.
"I made arrangements for it to be forwarded; a friend of mine will bring it in. Martin Sellers promised to hold the last boat at the landing until October 1st for it."
"Wa!" said Simon, raising his hands. "That is bad! We need flour. We cannot wait a month for flour."