The
scenery is enchanting, and I quite enjoy being with 'Proverbial
Philosophy' people."
Late in the gloomy afternoon King went down to the office, and the clerk
handed him a letter. He took it eagerly, but his countenance fell when
he saw that it bore a New York postmark, and had been forwarded from
Richfield. It was not from Irene. He put it in his pocket and went
moodily to his room. He was in no mood to read a homily from his uncle.
Ten minutes after, he burst into Forbes's room with the open letter in
his hand.
"See here, old fellow, I'm off to the Profile House. Can you get ready?"
"Get ready? Why, you can't go anywhere tonight."
"Yes I can. The proprietor says he will send us across to Redwood to
catch the night train for Ogdensburg."
"But how about the Lachine Rapids? You have been talking about those
rapids for two months. I thought that was what we came here for."
"Do you want to run right into the smallpox at Montreal?"
"Oh, I don't mind. I never take anything of that sort."
"But don't you see that it isn't safe for the Lamonts and Mrs. Farquhar
to go there?"
"I suppose not; I never thought of that. You have dragged me all over
the continent, and I didn't suppose there was any way of escaping the
rapids.
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