“Not exactly bad, but it’s disappointing. This is from Gambart.—Listen.
“My dear McLeod,—I have just heard that the flour-mill in this place which you were so anxious to purchase has come unexpectedly into the market, owing to the sudden death of its owner. It is to be had cheap too—at a very much lower figure than you offered before leaving Partridge Bay. I strongly advise you to secure it without delay. This letter goes by Sam Smalls to Bellew the trapper, who will doubtless deliver it to you. You’d better send him straight back with your reply.”
“Humph! good advice this time,” said Ian when his father ceased to read, “if we could only take it. ’Tis hard to have every penny we possess locked up, with such a chance before us. Couldn’t we borrow, in the meantime, from Gambart himself?”
“I will never purchase property with borrowed capital,” replied the elder McLeod.
“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Ian, consoling himself with another slice of cold pork.
“Now I’m ready to start,” said Bellew, rising and wiping his mouth with the cuff of his capote.
In a few minutes the trapper, on snow-shoes, and with a pack of provisions on his back, was striding down the coast at a pace that soon left the Creek far behind him.
Three days after this incident the trio at Jenkins Creek were aroused, while sitting at their mid-day meal, by the tinkle of sleigh-bells. Their sitting-room window was filled chiefly with parchment, but there was one square of it filled with glass. Through this, as from a loop-hole, the inmates could reconnoitre any one who approached their hut.
“Two dog-sleighs!” exclaimed Ian, turning from the loop-hole with a look of surprise.
“Flora and Elise!” cried Kenneth and his father, in the same breath, as they started up eagerly and hastened to the door.