“But why did you not bring Ian Macdonald along with you, Vic?” he asked. “I expect his father here this evening from Fort Garry, where he went in the morning for some pemmican.”
Before Victor had time to reply, Ian himself stepped out of the surrounding darkness. Just previous to this the party had been joined by Herr Winklemann and Michel Rollin, who, after seeing their respective mothers made as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, had been going about the camp chatting with their numerous friends. Louis Lambert had also joined the circle, and Peegwish stood modestly in the background.
“Come along, Ian, we were just talking of you,” said Mr Ravenshaw heartily, as he rose and extended his hand, for the disagreeables of his last meeting with the young man had been obliterated by the subsequent kindness of Ian in going off to aid in the search for Tony.
Ian returned the grasp with good will, but he soon destroyed the good understanding by deliberately, and it seemed unwisely, referring to the two points which still rankled in the old man’s breast.
“Tut, man,” said Mr Ravenshaw, a little testily, “why drag in the subjects of the knoll and my Elsie to-night, of all nights in the year?”
“Because I cannot avoid it,” said Ian. “Events have occurred to-day which compel me to speak of them—of the knoll, at least.”
“Oh, for the matter of that,” interrupted the old gentleman angrily, “you may speak of Elsie too, and the old woman, and Cora, and all the household to boot, for all that I care.”
“I come here to claim a right,” went on Ian, in a calm voice. “It is well known that Samuel Ravenshaw is a man of his word; that what he promises he is sure to perform; that he never draws back from an agreement.”
This speech took Mr Ravenshaw by surprise. He looked round until his eyes rested on Tony. Then he said, in a slightly sarcastic tone—
“What you say is true. Even Tony knows that.”