“Righto,” said Hunt Ward of the Elks.
Followed then an interval of silence, broken only by the mounting blaze. Everyone seemed to experience a little relaxation of the constraint. For a minute it seemed as if the spirits of the company rose. It was just for a moment.
Warde’s gaze was fixed directly on Blythe, who seemed calm, content, and happy to be among them. He at least showed no constraint.
“I dare say that robin will be in Canada by morning,” Warde said. “They go as far north as Montreal before they turn south. Hey, Roy?”
“There’s a place I’d like to go to–Montreal,” said Warde. “Ever been there Blythey?”
“Montreal?” said Blythe. “Not as I know of.”
“Toronto?”
Blythe shook his head. “Toronto’s up near there, isn’t it?” he asked.
Warde seemed on the point of asking more but apparently decided not to. “Who’s going to tell a yarn?” he asked. “This is a kind of slow bunch to-night. How about you, Roy?”