“Miners take the tone of their manager,” he said, significantly.
Simple as question and answer were, antipathy quickened in that instant between the two men.
Richards resented a certain something in Hastings’ tone, and Hastings made up his mind that Richards was overplaying.
Mr. Wade was regretting with exceeding heartiness that he had come at all. Being blown to bits in this desolate-looking hole was furthest from his desire.
Trusting himself to the horrors of a wilderness hotel seemed about as hazardous an alternative. As for leaving his nephew in such a place, was it not virtually condemning him to a more or less lingering death? And Mr. Wade had grown amazingly fond of him during the last few months, in the companionship which had resulted from their many-times delayed expedition westward.
He was half inclined to make a formal tour of inspection, announcing Hastings as the future owner, and then take him back and let him open his architect’s office at once. But Mr. Wade hated retreat.
“Then I am sure that you have men equally vigilant in repelling any attacks upon property or persons,” Hastings said, smoothly. “However, it doesn’t matter to me. I should have to come to the hotel, anyway, later, when you have gone back, sir.”
“Going to stay with us a while?” Richards asked him.
“Permanently,” said Hastings, pleasantly.
Richards swung a questioning face toward Mr. Wade.