“Let's have a look at 'em,” said the colonel.
“Oh, you haven't shown me this,” said Mr. St. Clair, taking the draught from Ranald.
“No, sir, you have not seen my final report.”
“No, not yet, of course. We have hardly had time yet, Colonel, but Mr. Macdonald will make a copy of this for you and send it in a day or two,” replied Mr. St. Clair, folding up the sketch, nervously, and placing it on his desk. The colonel quietly picked up the sketch and opened it out.
“You have got that last report of yours, I suppose,” he said, with a swift glance at Mr. St. Clair. That gentleman's face was pallid and damp; his whole fortune hung on Ranald's reply. It was to him a moment of agony.
Ranald glanced at his face, and paused. Then drawing his lips a little tighter, he said: “Colonel Thorp, my final report has not yet been handed in. Mr. St. Clair has not seen it. In my judgment—” here Mr. St. Clair leaned his hand hard upon his desk—“you are getting full value for your money, but I would suggest that you go yourself or send your inspector to explore the limits carefully before you complete the deal.”
Colonel Thorp, who had been carefully scanning the sketch in his hand, suddenly turned and looked Ranald steadily in the eye. “These marks on the west side mean camps?”
“Yes.”
“There are very few on the east side?”
“There are very few; the east side is inferior to the west.”