long legs. He's on his way to
Cowan's, I know. Ab Cowan has quinsy. Never mind, Thursa, we'll get
him. I hope now that the old doctor is too full to come--oh, no I don't
either, I just hope he's away and Dr. Clay will have it done before he
gets here."

When Tom arrived in Millford he found a great many people thronging the
streets. One of the Ontario's harvesters' excursions had arrived a few
hours before, and the "Huron and Bruce" boys were already making
themselves seen and heard.

Tom went at once to Dr. Barner's office and found that the doctor was
out making calls, but would be back in an hour. Not at all displeased
at having some time to spend, Tom went back to the gaily lighted front
street. The crowds of men who went in and out of the hotels seemed to
promise some excitement.

Inside of the Grand Pacific, a gramophone querulously sang "Any Rags,
Any Bones, Any Bottles To-day" to a delighted company of listeners.

When Tom entered he was received with the greatest cordiality by the
bartender and others.

"Here is life and good-fellowship," Tom thought to himself, "here's the
place to have a good time."

"Is your father back yet, Tom?" the bartender asked as he served a line
of customers.

"He'll come up Monday night, I expect," Tom answered, rather proud of
the attention he was receiving.

The bartender pushed a box of cigars toward him.

"Have a cigar, Tom," he said.

"No, thank you," Tom answered, "not any." Tom could not smoke, but he
drew a plug of chewing tobacco from his pocket and took a chew, to show
that his sympathies were that way.

"I guess perhaps some of you men met Mr. Motherwell in Winnipeg. He's
in there hiring men for this locality," the bartender said amiably.

"That's the name of the gent that hired me," said one.

"Me too."

"And me," came from others. "I'd no intention of comin' here," a man
from Paisley said. "I was goin' to Souris, until that gent got a holt
of me, and I thought if he wuz a sample of the men ye raise here, I'd
hike this way."

"He's lookin' for a treat," the bartender laughed. "He's sized you up,
Tom, as a pretty good fellow."

"No, I ain't after no treat," the Paisley man declared. "That's
straight, what I told you."

Tom unconsciously put his hand in his coat pocket and felt the money
his father had put there. He drew it out wondering. The quick eyes of
the bartender saw it at once.

"Tom's getting out his wad, boys," he laughed. "Nothin' mean a