ONE GAME AT A TIME
The Glengarry men were on the Montreal boat leaving for home.
Macdonald Bhain's farewell to his nephew was full of sadness, for he knew that henceforth their ways would lie apart, and full of solemn warnings against the dangers of the city where Ranald was now to be.
"It is a wicked place, and the pitfalls are many, and they are not in the places where the eyes will be looking for them. Ye are taking the way that will be leading you from us all, and I will not be keeping you back, nor will I be laying any vows upon you. You will be a true man, and you will keep the fear of God before your eyes, and you will remember that a Macdonald never fails the man that trusts him." And long after the great man was gone his last words kept tugging at Ranald's heart: "Ranald, lad, remember us up yonder in the Indian Lands," he said, holding his hand with a grip that squeezed the bones together; "we will be always thinking of you, and more than all, at the Bible class and the meetings she will be asking for you and wondering how you are doing, and by night and by day the door will be on the latch for your coming;for, laddie, laddie, you are a son to me and more!" The break in the big Macdonald's voice took away from Ranald all power of speech, and without a word of reply, he had to let his uncle go.
Yankee's good by was characteristic. "Well, guess I'll git along.
Wish you were comin' back with us, but you've struck your gait, Iguess, and you're goin' to make quite a dust. Keep your wind till the last quarter; that's where the money's lost. I ain't 'fraid of you; you're green, but they can't break you. Keep your left eye on the suckers. There ain't no danger from the feller that rips and rares and gits up on his hind legs, but the feller that sidles raound and sorter chums it up to you and wants to pay fer your drinks, by Jings, kick him. And say," Yankee's voice here grew low and impressive, "git some close. These here are all right for the woods, but with them people close counts an awful lot. It's the man inside that wins, but the close is outside. Git 'em and git 'em good; none of your second-hand Jew outfits. It'll cost, of course, but--(here Yankee closed up to Ranald) but here's a wad;ain't no pertickaler use to me."
Then Ranald smote him in the chest and knocked him back against a lumber pile.
"I know you," he cried; "you would be giving me the coat off your back. If I would be taking money from any man I'd take it from you, but let me tell you I will have no money that I do not earn;"then, seeing Yankee's disappointed face, he added, "but indeed, Iowe you for your help to me--and--mi--mine, when help was needed sore, more than I can ever pay back." Then, as they shook hands, Ranald spoke again, and his voice was none too steady. "And I have been thinking that I would like you to have Lisette, for it may be a long time before I will be back again, and I know you will be good to her; and if ever I need your help in this way, I promise Iwill come to you."
Yankee chewed his quid of tobacco hard and spat twice before he could reply. Then he answered slowly: "Now look-ye-here, I'll take that little mare and look after her, but the mare's yours and if--and if--which I don't think will happen--if you don't come back soon, why--I will send you her equivalent in cash; but I'd ruther see--I'd ruther see you come back for it!"It was with a very lonely heart that Ranald watched out of sight the steamboat that carried to their homes in the Indian Lands the company of men who had been his comrades for the long months in the woods and on the river, and all the more that he was dimly realizing that this widening blue strip of flowing river was separating him forever from the life he so passionately loved. As his eyes followed them he thought of the home-coming that he would have shared; their meetings at the church door, the grave handshakings from the older folk, the saucy "horos" from the half-grown boys, the shy blushing glances from the maidens, and last and dearest of all, the glad, proud welcome in the sweet, serious face with the gray-brown eyes. It was with the memory of that face in his heart that he turned to meet what might be coming to him, with the resolve that he would play the man.
"Hello, old chap, who's dead?" It was Harry's gay voice. "You look like a tomb." He put his arm through Ranald's and walked with him up the street.
"Where are you going now?" he asked, as Ranald walked along in silence.
"To get some clothes."
"Thank the great powers!" ejaculated Harry to himself.
"What?"
"And where are you going to get them?"
"I do not know--some store, I suppose." Ranald had the vaguest notions not only of where he should go, but of the clothes in which he ought to array himself, but he was not going to acknowledge this to his friend.
"You can't get any clothes fit to wear in this town," said Harry, in high contempt. Ranald's heart sank. "But come along, we will find something."As they passed in front of the little French shops, with windows filled inside and out with ready-made garments, Ranald paused to investigate.
"Oh! pshaw," cried Harry, "don't know what you'll get here. We'll find something better than this cheap stuff," and Ranald, glad enough of guidance, though uncertain as to where it might lead him, followed meekly.
"What sort of a suit do you want?" said Harry.
"I don't know," said Ranald, doubtfully. It had never occurred to him that there could be any great difference in suits. There had never been any choosing of suits with him.
