'Must have twisted his spine. Didn't want to spoil him, but I reckon it did him good. He hasn't been stealing other men's wives since, anyway.'
There was a dreary pause before the Factor continued, 'We won't lose track of days this winter, boy. I'll fix the calendar right up behind the stove, so as we can see it easy of an evening. When I forget to mark off the day, you let me know before I get to bed. We got terrible off the reckoning last year. Time we thought Christmas was 'way behind New Year. We'll have some fun this year, just you and I, boy. I'll make a fine big pudding, and you shall eat it, eh?'
He laughed heavily, then the half-breed, who was not communicative at any time, left the 'office' to prepare the supper moose meat. So the Factor was again left to his uncongenial thoughts.
'Darn it, I'm terribly lonely to-night. Feeling sort of uncomfortable, too. Got to pull through the winter without a friend to talk to or quarrel with. An old chap like me ought to have grandchildren fooling round his knees, digging into his pockets for candies, wanting him to monkey around with them, or spin long lies by way of yarns. I should have stayed east and got married. Then I might have known a decent sort of life. Well, this sort's got to slip off some time.'
He sat at the table, drumming his big fingers on it fretfully. Presently the virtuous fit wrapped itself more closely round his soul. Then his musings became of the following nature,—
'Going to turn over a new leaf right now. Going on a different sort of track from this day forth. There's to be no more deep drinking, or any such bad habits. I'm going to be what Peter used to try and make out he was. I start this night. Some fellows are always fixing up new resolutions—a brand new set once a month regular. Believe they only set them up just for the fun of knocking them down again. I'm not that way. 'Tisn't often I make a resolution, but when I do I stick to it. Goldam! I hang on to it by the eyelids. It's time I thought of turning reformed character, for I'm shuffling along in life pretty fast, getting down to the last few years at a terrible rate.'
He paused in his reflections, as if summoning courage to form a mighty resolution. Soon he wagged his head gravely.
'There's my winter stock of whisky just laid up. A fellow can't resist the smell of a nice mixed glass. If I once start at it, I shall slide back to the old life, and not be a darned bit better. I'll fix that racket right off.'
In his stentorian voice he called out to the half-breed.
There was a slow shuffling within the little passage, then Justin appeared from the kitchen, his tobacco-charged mouth moving slowly.