“Hello, old sport! How goes it?”
“Martin, old boy!” shouted Cameron in reply. “It's awfully good to see you. How did you get here? Oh, yes, of course, I remember. You left the construction camp and came here to settle down.” All the while Cameron was speaking he was shaking his friend's hand with both of his. “By Jove, but you're fit!” he continued, running his eye over the slight but athletic figure of his friend.
“Fit! Never fitter, not even in the old days when I used to pass the pigskin to you out of the scrimmage. But you? You're hardly up to the mark.” The keen gray eyes searched Cameron's face. “What's up with you?”
“Oh, nothing. A little extra work and a little worry, but I'll tell you later.”
“Well, what are you on to now?” inquired Martin.
“Ordering our supper. We've just come in from a hundred and fifty miles' drive.”
“Supper? Your wife here too? Glory! It's up to me, old boy! Look here, Connolly,” he turned to the proprietor behind the bar, “a bang-up supper for three. All the season's delicacies and all the courses in order. As you love me, Connolly, do us your prettiest. And soon, awfully soon. A hundred and fifty miles, remember. Now, then, how's my old nurse?” he continued, turning back to Cameron. “She was my nurse, remember, till you came and stole her.”
“She was, eh? Ask her,” laughed Cameron. “But she will be glad to see you. Where's MY nurse, then, my little nurse, who saw me through a fever and a broken leg?”
“Oh, she's up in the mountains still, in the construction camp. I proposed to bring her down here with me, but there was a riot. I barely escaped. If ever she gets out from that camp it will be when they are all asleep or when she is in a box car.”
“Come along, then,” cried Cameron. “I have much to tell you, and my wife will be glad to see you. My sister comes in by No. 1, do you know?”