“Yes, that is just what I came to see you about. Is it ready—and are you quite decided about retiring?”
“Quite decided. See, here is the letter. And don’t forget your promise to say nothing to Waboose or anyone else about Liston’s packet.”
“Not a word, my boy.”
That afternoon my friend set off on snow-shoes accompanied by two men.
“Any message, Max?” he said, at parting.
“Of course. My kind regards to everybody.”
“Nothing warmer to anybody?”
“Oh, yes,” I returned quickly, “I forgot you may, if you choose, say something a little more affectionate to Miss Macnab!”
“I will, Max, I will,” he replied, with a loud ringing laugh and a cheery good-bye.
Some time after that an Indian came to the fort bearing a letter from Lumley. It was written, he said, merely because the Indian chanced to be travelling towards Wichikagan, and contained nothing of importance. To my surprise and disappointment it contained no reference whatever to Waboose. On turning over the last page, however, I found a postscript. It ran thus: