“Wants to run off and leave me to paddle my way home alone. Not much! I tell you what, we have some important business to do before I go East. You hear me?”
“And besides, Macdonald, I want you for that big meeting of ours next week. You simply must be there.”
“You flatter me, Mr. Blair.”
“Not a bit; you know there are a lot of hot-heads talking separation and that sort of thing, and I want some level-headed fellow who is in with the working men to be there.”
And as it turned out it was a good thing for Mr. Blair and for the cause he represented that Ranald was present at the great mass-meeting held in New Westminster the next week. For the people were exasperated beyond all endurance at the delay of the Dominion in making good the solemn promises given at the time of Confederation, and were in a mood to listen to the proposals freely made that the useless bond should be severed. “Railway or separation,” was the cry, and resolutions embodying this sentiment were actually proposed and discussed. It was Ranald's speech, every one said, that turned the tide. His calm logic made clear the folly of even considering separation; his knowledge of, and his unbounded faith in, the resources of the province, and more than all, his impassioned picturing of the future of the great Dominion reaching from ocean to ocean, knit together by ties of common interest, and a common loyalty that would become more vividly real when the provinces had been brought more closely together by the promised railway. They might have to wait a little longer, but it was worth while waiting, and there was no future in any other policy. It was his first speech at a great meeting, and as Mr. Blair shook him warmly by the hand, the crowd burst into enthusiastic cries, “Macdonald! Macdonald!” and in one of the pauses a single voice was heard, “Glengarry forever!” Then again the crowd broke forth, “Glengarry! Glengarry!” for all who knew Ranald personally had heard of the gang that were once the pride of the Ottawa. At that old cry Ranald's face flushed deep red, and he had no words to answer his friends' warm congratulations.
“Send him East,” cried a voice.
“Yes, yes, that's it. Send him to Ottawa to John A. It's the same clan!”
Swiftly Mr. Blair made up his mind. “Gentlemen, that is a good suggestion. I make it a motion.” It was seconded in a dozen places, and carried by a standing vote. Then Ranald rose again and modestly protested that he was not the man to go. He was quite unknown in the province.
“We know you!” the same voice called out, followed by a roar of approval.
“And, besides,” went on Ranald, “it is impossible for me to get away; I'm a working man and not my own master.”