He went to the edge of the bank and whistled. Ten minutes later Conrad was with them.
"Koppy got them repairs done yet?"
"Pretty nearly," replied the foreman.
"When the Indian can get away, send him up . . . or maybe we'd better wait till after hours—if he wouldn't ask overtime."
"You'll never find him after hours; he doesn't sleep in the camp. Wanders off somewhere in the bush. He has about as much use for white trash as you have."
"Send him right away then."
CHAPTER X
MAVY TAKES A RISK
Mavy, known on the camp books as Peter Maverick, received the summons to the boss's shack with his customary silence. For a moment after Conrad delivered the message he hesitated, then, nodding shortly, he swung into the trestle and began to clamber up by way of the hundred and fifty feet of network supports, scorning the path that led up the bank before the foreman's shack. With a puzzled shake of his head Conrad watched the strange figure growing smaller.
"A hundred of him," he muttered, "and they could take the whole bunch of bohunks. If he's a specimen of the wild Indian, Lord only knows what right we had to clean them out of the land. Mr. Torrance would say it was because they never build railways."