His glance, as he rested it on Bryce now, was baleful,
ophidian. "Yes," he said, "I would be rather disappointed. However, I
pay Rondeau rather more than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so
I imagine he'll stay--unless, of course, somebody takes a notion to
run him out of the county. And when that happens, I want to be on
hand to view the spectacle."
Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. "I'm going up into
Township Nine to-morrow afternoon," he remarked casually. "I think I
shall go over to your camp and pay the incomparable Jules a brief
visit. Really, I have heard so much about that woods-boss of yours,
Colonel, that I ache to take him apart and see what makes him go."
Again the Colonel assimilated the hint, but preferred to dissemble.
"Oh, you can't steal him from me, Cardigan," he laughed. "I warn you
in advance--so spare yourself the effort."
"I'll try anything once," Bryce retorted with equal good nature.
"However, I don't want to steal him from you. I want to ascertain
from him where he procured this burl. There may be more of the same
in the neighbourhood where he got this."
"He wouldn't tell you."
"He might. I'm a persuasive little cuss when I choose to exert
myself."
"Rondeau is not communicative. He requires lots of persuading.
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