The birch bark Lachlan let him have occasioned him many a rare tussle
before he finally beached it at the Fort. The fall winds were roughening
the lake. It was his first single-handed essay with the paddle. But he
derived a certain satisfaction from winning alone against wind and
water, and also gained food for thought in the odd circumstance of his
growing tendency to get a glow out of purely physical achievements. It
did not irk nor worry him now to sweat and strain for hours on end.
Instead, he found in that continued, concentrated muscular effort a
happy release from troublesome reflection.
His cheque was waiting. As he fingered the green slip whose face value
was one hundred and twenty dollars, one fourth of his yearly stipend, he
felt relieved, and at the same time oddly reluctant. Not until late in
the evening did he get at the root of that reluctance. MacLeod had
hospitably insisted on putting him up. They sat in the factor's living
room before a great roaring fireplace. Their talk had lapsed into
silence. MacLeod leaned back in his chair, pipe in hand, frowning
abstractedly.
"Man," he said at length, his bearded face wrinkled with a smile, "I
wish ye were no a preacher wi' labors i' the vineyard of the Lord tae
occupy yer time. I'd have ye do a job for me."
"A job?" Thompson came out of his preoccupation.
"Aye," MacLeod grunted. "A job. A reg'lar man's job. There'd be a
reasonable compensation in't. It's a pity," he continued dryly, "that a
parson has a mind sae far above purely mateerial conseederation."
"It may surprise you," Mr. Thompson returned almost as dryly, "to know
that I have--to a certain extent--modified my views upon what you term
material considerations. They are, I have found, more important than I
realized."
The factor took his pipe out of his mouth and regarded Thompson with
frank curiosity.
"Well," he remarked finally. "Yer a young man. It's no surprisin'." He
paused a second.
"Would it interest ye--would ye consider givin' a month or two of yer
time to a legitimate enterprise if it was made worth yer while?" he
asked bluntly.
"Yes," Thompson answered with equal directness. "If I knew what it
was--if it's something I can do."
"I'm just marking time at Lone Moose," he went on after a pause. There
was a note of discouragement in his voice. "I'm--well, completely
superfluous there. I'd be tempted--"
He did not go farther. Nor did MacLeod inquire into the nature of the
suggested temptation. He merely nodded understandingly at the first
part of Thompson's reply.
"Ye could do it fine, I think," he said thoughtfully, "wi' the use of
yer head an' the bit coachin' and help I'd provide. It's like this.
Pachugan's no so good a deestrict as it used tae be. The fur trade's
slowin' down, an' the Company's no so keen as it was in the old days
when it was lord o' the North. I mind when a factor was a power--but
that time's past. The Company's got ither fish tae fry. Consequently
there's times when we're i' the pickle of them that had tae make bricks
wi'oot straw. I mean there's times when they dinna gie us the support
needful to make the best of what trade there is. Difficulties of
transportation for one thing, an' a dyin' interest in a decayin' branch
of Company business. Forbye a' that they expect results, just the same.