"You'll get hold of yours before the news is made public," suggested the Cap.
"No, that won't hardly do," drawled Poo-Bah; "you see there'll be hell enough raised when it is found I get a bunch of claims; and while Ottawa is ready enough to take our explanation of things, there is such a thing as being too coarse, even here—besides, it ain't necessary. No, in a few days the news will be made public: till then keep your heads shut, see?"
"We'll trust you to work the graft," said the girl.
"You can certainly rely on me! Now, people, I've got to pull my freight."
Hugh gripped John's arm, but he released it as he saw the party were leaving the box. The friends shrank back further into the shadows. When they were gone he whispered,
"Did you hear that? Dominion hillsides to be thrown open! Some of the richest ground in the country."
"I heard them talking about grafts, and I heard complaints about Smoothbore—who ever that may be."
"The Colonel at the Barracks."
"They appear to find him in the way." John hurriedly gave some account of what they had overheard. Hugh's eyes glistened.
"Sure thing! Smoothbore is in the way. He's straight; but this last about Dominion is the news. We'll get in on the hillsides of Dominion, and do our best to hold them."