When the coffee cups were all filled and creamed and sugared, the old factor stood up and the boys did likewise. Lifting his cup high over his head, Mr. McClaren said:
“Here’s to the health of Dick Kent, fur trader, and may he never buy a pelt that sheds or trade a rifle for a black cat’s hide thinking it’s a black fox skin.”
The boys burst out laughing, but touched cups with Sandy’s uncle and drank the toast.
“Now let me give a toast,” Dick spoke up.
“Go ahead,” Mr. McClaren agreed.
Assuming a gallant pose, Dick upraised his cup and said solemnly:
“Here’s to Factor McClaren the best sport in the world and the jolliest bachelor.”
It was Walter McClaren’s turn to laugh, and his big voice shook the very log beams of the dining room.
Sandy was about to propose another toast, when there came a knock at the door.
The factor motioned the housekeeper to open the door. All eyes turned to see the visitor. Into the living room of the cabin stamped a tall man, resplendent in the scarlet coat of the mounted.