The old factor paused and puffed at his pipe the while his eyes were fixed upon the deep shadows at the far corner.
"Unless what?" asked Hedin eagerly. "I thought, at first, that he believed me guilty of stealing the coat," he went on when Murchison didn't answer. "I know now that he didn't, but when I asked him the reason for my arrest, he only laughed and said that it was all part of the game." Then the younger man's voice dropped, and Murchison noted that the look of eagerness had faded from his face. "As to the hiring of Wentworth," continued Hedin, "that is another matter."
The factor rose slowly and, crossing to the door, opened it and hastily closed it again as a swirl of fine snow-powder enveloped him. Hedin caught the muffled roar of the wind, and in the draught of cold air that swept the room, the big swinging lamp flared smokily. Murchison returned to his chair and filled his pipe. "How's John's daughter comin' along?" he asked between puffs of blue smoke.
"Why, Miss McNabb is very well, I believe," answered Hedin, a bit awkwardly. "You were right about that storm," Hedin hastened to change the subject. "I'm mighty glad we made Gods Lake to-day, or we would have been held up for the Lord knows how long."
Murchison suppressed a smile, and hunched his chair a bit nearer the stove. "When all's said an' done then, the case stands about like this. This engineer will be along in a few days to begin work locatin' the power dam, an' lookin' up more pulpwood. John believes that Wentworth will let the options expire, an' then swing the stuff over to this man Orcutt an' his crowd—an he's sent you up to block the game."
Hedin nodded. "That's it."
"You're my clerk, an' your name's Sven Larson—that's a good
Scandinavian name—an' you don't know nothin' about pulp-wood, nor
options. I guess it would be best if we could put him up right here.
We could be watchin' him all the while without seemin' to."
"I wonder when Wentworth will be here?" speculated Hedin.
"There's no tellin'. It's accordin' to the outfit he packs an' the guide he's got. They'll have to camp for the storm, an' the snow will slow them up one-half. The storm will last three days or four, an' after that, a day, mebbe a week. Anyways, 'twill give ye time to learn the duties of a factor's clerk, which is a thing the Company has never furnished at Gods Lake, but if John McNabb foots the bill, they'll not worry. 'Twould be better an' ye could play the dolt—not an eediot, or an addlepate—but just a dull fellow, slow of wit, an' knowin' nought except of fur."
Hedin laughed. "That won't bother me in the least."