“Well, I’ll let you know what I think when I have seen more,” said McMurdo carelessly.  “What is very clear is that you are not the man for the place, and that the sooner you sell out—­if you only get a dime a dollar for what the business is worth—­the better it will be for you.  What you have said is safe with me; but, by Gar! if I thought you were an informer—­”

“No, no!” cried Morris piteously.

“Well, let it rest at that.  I’ll bear what you have said in mind, and maybe some day I’ll come back to it.  I expect you meant kindly by speaking to me like this.  Now I’ll be getting home.”

“One word before you go,” said Morris.  “We may have been seen together.  They may want to know what we have spoken about.”

“Ah! that’s well thought of.”

“I offer you a clerkship in my store.”

“And I refuse it.  That’s our business.  Well, so long, Brother Morris, and may you find things go better with you in the future.”

That same afternoon, as McMurdo sat smoking, lost in thought beside the stove of his sitting-room, the door swung open and its framework was filled with the huge figure of Boss McGinty.  He passed the sign, and then seating himself opposite to the young man he looked at him steadily for some time, a look which was as steadily returned.

“I’m not much of a visitor, Brother McMurdo,” he said at last.  “I guess I am too busy over the folk that visit me.  But I thought I’d stretch a point and drop down to see you in your own house.”

“I’m proud to see you here, Councillor,” McMurdo answered heartily, bringing his whisky bottle out of the cupboard.  “It’s an honour that I had not expected.”

“How’s the arm?” asked the Boss.

McMurdo made a wry face.  “Well, I’m not forgetting it,” he said; “but it’s worth it.”

“Yes, it’s worth it,” the other answered, “to those that are loyal and go through with it and are a help to the lodge.  What were you speaking to Brother Morris about on Miller Hill this morning?”

The question came so suddenly that it was well that he had his answer prepared.  He burst into a hearty laugh.  “Morris didn’t know I could earn a living here at home.  He shan’t know either; for he has got too much conscience for the likes of me.  But he’s a good-hearted old chap.  It was his idea that I was at a loose end, and that he would do me a good turn by offering me a clerkship in a drygoods store.”

“Oh, that was it?”

“Yes, that was it.”

“And you refused it?”

“Sure.  Couldn’t I earn ten times as much in my own bedroom with four hours’ work?”

“That’s so.  But I wouldn’t get about too much with Morris.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I guess because I tell you not.  That’s enough for most folk in these parts.”

“It may be enough for most folk; but it ain’t enough for me, Councillor,” said McMurdo boldly.  “If you are a judge of men, you’ll know that.”