romised to send
the money on to me at a certain date and, as his name and word were
gold currency in and around Campbeltown, we set out on Graham
Brenchfield's five hundred. We got to Vancouver, did odd jobs there
for a bit; then Graham got something more promising to do on a cattle
ranch in the Okanagan Valley and he left me clearing land in Carnaby,
in the suburbs of Vancouver.

"Well, Jim,--Brenchfield had been only a few months gone, when I
received letters from him urging me to send along the money I had
coming from Angus Macdonald, as he had obtained a month's option on
some land in which he declared there was a positive fortune. As it
turned out, Brenchfield was right in his surmise, as he seemed to be
in almost everything else he touched for years following. It was ranch
property, evidently right on the survey line of a new railroad. He was
wildly excited over it in all his letters. Macdonald's money was due,
but it did not come to hand, so I had to keep on putting Brenchfield
off and meantime I made a draft on Macdonald, putting it through the
Carnaby branch of the Commercial Bank for collection. Three days
before Brenchfield's option was up he dropped in on me unexpectedly,
by the first inter-urban train one morning. At that time, I was living
by myself in a little rented two-roomed shack a few hundred yards
outside of Carnaby.

"Graham Brenchfield raged and ranted in a terrible way, getting purple
in the face in his disappointment and anger. He called Macdonald all
the skin-flinting names he could think of and incidentally expressed
himself of my unbusiness-like qualities. I told him what I had done,
how I had written to Macdonald repeatedly, wired him and finally drawn
on him; that I had called at the bank until Maguire the banker got
sick at the sight of me and declared I haunted him like a damned
ghost.

"I left Brenchfield that morning in my place, promising to be back by
noon. I worked for two hours, then left off for fifteen minutes to run
over to the bank, for I had a hunch that there was something there.
Maguire the Agent was in a nasty mood.

"He declared there was nothing for me. I told him he hadn't looked to
see, and I waited around, whistling and shuffling my feet till he got
exasperated. It was the end of the month and he was busy, so perhaps I
should have been more considerate, but I was nineteen years old then
and consideration did not weigh very heavily on me. Besides, I was
badly in ne