This speech, as Mr. Cooke had no doubt confidently hoped, threw the senator into a frenzy of wrath.
“The day will come, sir,” he shouted, shaking his fist at my client, “the day will come when you will rue this bitterly.”
“Don't get off any of your oratorical frills on me,” replied Mr. Cooke, contemptuously; “you ought to be tied and muzzled.”
Mr. Trevor was white with anger.
“I, for one, will not go to Canada,” he cried.
“You'll stay here and starve, then,” said Mr. Cooke; “damned little I care.”
Mr. Trevor turned to Farrar, who was biting his lip.
“Mr. Farrar, I know you to be a rising young man of sound principles, and Mr. Crocker likewise. You are the only ones who can sail. Have you reflected that you are about to ruin your careers?”
“We are prepared to take the chances, I think,” said Farrar.
Mr. Cooke looked us over, proudly and gratefully, as much as to say that while he lived we should not lack the necessities of life.