commerce and politics of the world."

"I didn't know you were a politician," said Carnac. "Of course I'm a
politician," was the inflammable reply. "What's commerce without
politics? It's politics that makes the commerce possible. There's that
fellow Barouche--Barode Barouche--he's got no money, but he's a Minister,
and he can make you rich or poor by planning legislation at Ottawa
that'll benefit or hamper you. That's the kind of business that's worth
doing--seeing into the future, fashioning laws that make good men happy
and bad men afraid. Don't I know! I'm a master-man in my business;
nothing defeats me. To me, a forest of wild wood is the future palace of
a Prime Minister. A great river is a pathway to the palace, and all the
thousands of men that work the river are the adventurers that bring the
booty home--"

"That bring 'the palace to Paris,' eh!" interrupted Carnac, laughing.

"Paris be damned--that bring the forest to Quebec. How long did it take
you to make that?" he added with a nod towards the statue.

"Oh, I did it in a day--six hours, I think; and he stood like that for
three hours out of the six. He was great, but he'd no more sense of
civilization than I have of Heaven."

"You don't need to have a sense of Heaven, you need to have a sense of
Hell. That prevents you from spoiling your own show. You're playing
with life's vital things."

"I wonder how much you've got out of it all, father," Carnac remarked
with a smile. He lit a cigarette. "You do your job in style. It's been