Ranald looked at her, while the blood mounted slowly into his dark cheek, and said: “Yes, I will come.”
“What's the matter with you, Maimie?” said Harry, indignantly, when they had got outside. “You would think Ranald was a stranger, the way you treat him.”
“And he is just splendid! I wish he had pulled ME out of the fire,” cried Kate.
“You might try the river,” said the lieutenant. “I fancy he would go in. Looks that sort.”
“Go in?” cried Harry, “he would go anywhere.” The lieutenant made no reply. He evidently considered that it was hardly worth the effort to interest himself in the young lumberman, but before he was many hours older he found reason to change his mind.
After taking the young ladies to their hotel there was still an hour till the lieutenant's dinner, so, having resolved to cultivate the St. Clair family, he proposed accompanying Harry back to the office.
As they approached the lower portion of the town they heard wild shouts, and sauntering down a side street, they came upon their French-Canadian friend of the afternoon. He was standing with his back against a wall trying to beat off three or four men, who were savagely striking and kicking at him, and crying the while: “Gatineau! Gatineau!”
It was the Gatineau against the Ottawa.
“Our friend seems to have found the object of his search,” said the lieutenant, as he stood across the street looking at the melee.
“I say, he's a good one, isn't he?” cried Harry, admiring the Ottawa's dauntless courage and his fighting skill.