“Perhaps you do not know who I am,” blustered the owner of the red face.
“Well, you haven’t taken the trouble to introduce yourself yet, I believe, sir,” Phil told him.
“My name is James Bodman, and I am interested in American railways!”
It was amusing to see the way the stout party drew himself up proudly as he said this. Of course Phil knew instantly that he was face to face with one of the best known millionaire railroad owners in the whole United States; and he also remembered reading that the same James Bodman was noted as a domineering financial despot.
Phil did not flinch. He gave no sign of being greatly impressed by the importance of the other’s position in the world of finance. Instead he merely flirted his hand around to indicate his chum, and remarked with the greatest indifference possible:
“Oh! is that so? Well, let me introduce my friend, Raymond Tyson, Mr. Bodman. As for myself I’m Phil Bradley.”
That was all Phil said.
He immediately started work on the fallen caribou, with an air of business that could not brook delay. There were some miles of snowy bush to be traversed before he and his comrade could expect to reach their camp, and he did not wish to be detained any more than was absolutely necessary.
Meanwhile X-Ray was having considerable fun in watching the expressions that chased each other across the florid countenance of the stout hunter. Mr. Bodman apparently found himself taken aback by the indifferent manner in which the news of his identity was received. He had possibly expected the boys to be dazed, and perhaps hasten to beg his august pardon.
“Huh! you’ll be sorry for this, let me tell you!” he finally burst out with.