CHAPTER III—THE CALL
TEN days before the wedding, they were lying at Manistee, waiting for a load of salt. Bruce had been growing more restless and absent-minded. The fault grew unchecked, because an instinctive fineness in Hunch held back the reproof that would ordinarily have followed slipshod work. But about the time of the Manistee trip, Bruce appeared in a new light. He was growing self-confident and independent. The old meekness was giving place to a certain animal pride.
The last night at Manistee, Bruce went uptown to buy a present for Mamie. He met an old friend on the street and told him of his luck. This called for congratulations, and in the confidence of his new strength Bruce followed his friend through a swinging, green baize door. He returned at eleven o'clock. Hunch was in the cabin, wrestling with his accounts.
Bruce came slowly down the steps and balanced carefully at the bottom.
“Hello, Hunch,” he said, slyly.
Badeau looked up. Bruce walked across the cabin and sat on his bunk, holding his head erect and looking straight before him.
“Where you been?”
“See a fren'.”
Badeau looked at him. Bruce grew so nervous that he forgot his caution.
“What's matter? What you lookin' me like that for? You're fren' o' mine, Hunch. Shake han's, ol' man. Shake——-”