"I guess so."
"But whether they were planning to put us all out of business, or organizing an expedition to the North Pole—you don't know."
"That's right."
"Well, keep your eye on them, but don't report again until your report is calculated to make a noise."
Constable Hope, not a little discouraged by the way his report was received, sauntered out and drifted towards the Borealis. The seeds of his efforts had fallen on stony ground.
But after he was gone Sergeant Galbraith expanded his chest, drew up to the full extent of his six feet, and gazed through the door of his office at the muskeg, which did duty for a street.
"Another council at the top of the Dome," he said to himself. He stood a minute, stroked his moustache; then, his mind made up, strode out of the office, and in due course was in the presence of his Commanding Officer.
"Another council at the Dome, sir," he reported.
"Yes."
"Seems serious, sir, when men climb 1,800 feet, this hot weather, that they may talk in private."