In early May I found myself once more with my canvas and photographic apparatus approaching Grand Bend, but this time from the West. As I reached the curve in the river where the trail leads to the first view of the town I eagerly searched for Ould Michael's flag. There stood the mast, sure enough, but there was no flag in sight. What had happened to Ould Michael? While he lived his flag would fly. Had he left Grand Bend, or had Paddy Dougan's stuff been too much for him? I was rather surprised to find in my heart a keen anxiety for the old soldier. As I hurried on I saw that Grand Bend had heard the sound of approaching civilization and was waking up. Two or three saloons, a blacksmith's shop, some tents and a new general store proclaimed a boom. As I approached the store I saw a sign in big letters across the front, "Jacob Wragge, General Store," and immediately over the door, in smaller letters, "Postoffice." More puzzled than ever I flung my reins over the hitching-post and went in. A number of men stood leaning against the counter and piled-up boxes, none of whom I knew.
"Is Ould Michael in?" I asked, forgetting for the moment his proper name.
"In where?" asked the man behind the counter.
"The postoffice," I replied. "Doesn't he keep the postoffice?"
"Not much," he answered, with an insolent laugh; "it's not much he could keep, unless it's whisky."
"Perhaps you can tell me where he is?" I asked, keeping my temper down, for I longed to reach for his throat.
"You'll find him boozing in one of the saloons, like enough, the old sot."
I walked out without further word, for the longing for his throat grew almost more than I could bear, and went across to Paddy Dougan's. Paddy expressed great delight at seeing me again and, on my asking for Ould Michael, became the picture of woe.
Four months ago the postoffice had been taken from Ould Michael and set up in Jacob Wragge's store, and with the old soldier things had gone badly ever since.
"The truth is, an' I'll not desave you," said Paddy, adopting a confidential undertone, "he's drinkin' too much and he is."