“How?”
“Oh, I know how. You see, I have made Indians talk before now.”
Something in the boy’s tone made the sergeant’s flesh creep.
“Gad! boy, remember you are not among savages any longer!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, but he must tell me, you see,” said Paul in a matter-of-fact tone. “He ought to tell me. And so I will make him. I think he will tell me.”
“Good Lord! I believe he will,” said the sergeant. “But for Heaven’s sake go easy.”
But Paul refused to make any disclosures as to his methods. The sergeant hastily changed the subject.
“Then what, after Sleeman?”
“Going to study in Vancouver. I will have three hundred dollars. I can get some work to do, can’t I? McConnell thinks I can’t do it. He wants me to stay with him. They have been awfully good to me, but I can’t stay. I must get away. I’m going to be an engineer and do big things—build railways and bridges, like Daddy, you know.” He paused, looking doubtfully at his friend. But the sergeant only nodded encouragingly.
“Sure! fine thing!” he exclaimed as Paul waited.