"I can't help that," said Alton. "I am a Canadian, but if you want
another reason, it wouldn't suit me to drink with you, anyway. You
see, you didn't do the square thing with one or two friends of mine who
worked on the Tyee."

He turned on his heel, and Hallam, who was a man of some importance in
the cities, gasped with astonishment and indignation.

"What is that fellow?" he said.

The man laughed, and answered him in the bushman's slowest drawl. "You
don't know much, or you wouldn't ask," said he. "He's Alton of
Somasco, but if he lives long enough he will be one of the biggest men
in this country."

Hallam said nothing, but there was a curious look in his face which
puzzled the rancher. It suggested that he had heard of Alton, and
something more.

Meanwhile Alton entered the store, where the man who kept it pointed to
a litter of packages strewn about the floor and sundry bags upon the
counter.

"That's Townshead's lot, and those are Thomson's things," he said, and
turned aside to listen to a rancher who came in smiling.

Alton took up a big cotton bag marked Townshead, tossed it aloft and
caught it, and then shook his head dubiously. "That's rather too light
for ten pounds. You want to try her on the scales again," he said.