"After your fifty-odd years in the
lumber business your head has become packed with sawdust--"
"Be serious and talk to me, Bryce."
"I ought to send you to bed without your supper. Talk to you? You bet
I'll talk to you, John Cardigan; and I'll tell you things, too, you
scandalous bunko-steerer. To-morrow morning I'm going to put a pair
of overalls on you, arm you with a tin can and a swab, and set you to
greasing the skidways. Partner, you've deceived me."
"Oh, nonsense. If I had whimpered, that would only have spoiled
everything."
"Nevertheless, you were forced to cable me to hurry home."
"I summoned you the instant I realized I was going to need you."
"No, you didn't, John Cardigan. You summoned me because, for the
first time in your life, you were panicky and let yourself get out of
hand."
His father nodded slowly. "And you aren't over it yet," Bryee
continued, his voice no longer bantering but lowered affectionately.
"What's the trouble, Dad? Trot out your old panic and let me inspect
it. Trouble must be very real when it gets my father on the run."
"It is, Bryce, very real indeed. As I remarked before, I've lost your
heritage for you." He sighed. "I waited till you would be able to
come home and settle down to business; now you're home, and there
isn't any business to settle down to.
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