a slow smile, his first since reaching the province.

"Dinner'll be ready in half an hour, sir," said Coley, swearing
allegiance in his heart to the man that agreed with him in regard to the
photograph that stood with Coley for all that was highest in humanity.

"John," he said, sharply, to the Chinese cook, "got good dinner, eh?"

"Pitty good," said John, indifferently.

"Now, look here, John, him big man." John was not much impressed. "Awful
big man, I tell you, big soldier." John preserved a stolid countenance.

"John," said the exasperated Coley, "I'll kick you across this room and
back if you don't listen to me. Want big dinner, heap good, eh?"

"Huh-huh, belly good," replied John, with a slight show of interest.

"I say, John, what you got for dinner, eh?" asked Coley, changing his
tactics.

"Ham, eggs, lice," answered the Mongolian, imperturbably.

"Gee whiz!" said Coley, "goin' to feed the boss' uncle on ham and eggs?"

"What?" said John, with sudden interest, "Uncle boss, eh?"

"Yes," said the unblushing Coley.

"Huh! Coley heap fool! Get chicken, quick! meat shop, small, eh?" The
Chinaman was at last aroused. Pots, pans, and other utensils were in
immediate requisition, a roaring fire set a-going, and in three-quarters
of an hour the colonel sat down to a dinner of soup, fish, and fowl,
with various entrees and side dishes that would have done credit to a
New York chef. Thus potent was the name of the boss with his cook.

John's excellent dinner did much to soothe and mollify his guest;
but the colonel was sensitive to impressions other than the purely
gastronomic, for throughout the course of the dinner, his eyes wandered
to the photographs on the wall, and in fancy he was once more in the
presence of the two women, to whom he felt pledged in Ranald's behalf.
"It's a one-horse looking country, though," he said to himself, "and no
place for a man with any snap. Best thing would be to pull out, I
guess, and take him along." And it was in this mind that he received the
Honorable Archibald Blair, M. P. P., for New Westminster, president of
the British Columbia Canning Company, recently organized, and a director
in half a dozen other business concerns.

"Colonel Thorp, this is Mr. Blair, of the British Columbia Canning
Company," said Coley, with a curious suggestion of Ranald in his manner.

"Glad to welcome a friend of Mr. Macdonald's," said Mr. Blair, a little
man of about thirty, with a shrewd ey