spoke of a Mr. Carr here. Have I--er--the--ah--pleasure of addressing
that gentleman?"

Carr's gray eyes twinkled, the myriad of fine creases radiating from
their outer corners deepened.

"MacLeod mentioned me, eh? Did he intimate that meeting me might prove a
doubtful pleasure for a gentleman of your calling?"

That momentarily served to heighten Mr. Thompson's embarrassment--like a
flank attack while he was in the act of waving a flag of truce. But he
perceived that there was no malice in the words, only a flash of ironic
humor. Carr chuckled dryly.

"Meet Mr. Tommy Ashe, Mr. Thompson," he said. "Mr. Ashe is, like
yourself, a newcomer to Lone Moose. You may be able to exchange mutual
curses on the country. People usually do at first."

"I've been hereabouts six months," Ashe smiled as he rose to shake
hands. (Carr's friendliness seemed a trifle negative, reserved; he had
not offered his hand.)

"That means newly come, as time is reckoned here," Carr remarked. "It
takes at least a generation to make one permanent. Have a seat, Mr.
Thompson. What do you think, so far, of the country you have selected
for the scene of your operations?"

The slightly ironic inflection was not lost upon Thompson. It nettled
him a little, but it was too intangible to be resented, and in any case
he had no ready defence against that sort of thing. He took a third