He had an eye like a hawk, and you couldn't read it. Now I can read your
eye like a book. There's a bit of spring in 'em, M'sieu'. His eyes were
hard winter-ice five feet deep and no fishing under--froze to the bed.
He had a tongue like a cross-cut saw. He's at the bottom of the St.
Lawrence, leaving a bad job behind him.

"Have a drink--hein?" He jerked a finger backwards to the saloon door.
"It's Sunday, but stolen waters are sweet, sure!"

The Forgotten Man shook his head. "I don't drink, thank you."

"It'd do you good. You're dead beat. You've been travelling hard--eh?"

"I've come a long way, and travelled all night."

"Going on?"

"I am going back to-morrow."

"On business?"

Charley nodded--he glanced involuntarily at the sign across the street.

Jean Jolicoeur saw the look. "Lawyer's business, p'r'aps?"

"A lawyer's business--yes."

"Ah, if Charley Steele was here!"

"I have as good a lawyer as--"