After
having sent his cablegram to Wentworth, he returned to his very cheerless
hotel. Next morning when he awoke he knew that Wentworth would have
received the message, but that the chances were ten thousand to one that
he could not get the money in time, even if he could get it at all.
Still, he resolved to stay in Ottawa, much as he detested the place,
until the hour the option expired. Then, he thought, he would look round
among the mines, and see if he could not get something to do in the
management of one of them. This would enable him to make some money,
wherewith to pay the debts which he and Wentworth would have incurred as
a result of their disastrous speculation. He felt so depressed that he
did what most other Englishmen would have done in his place--took a long
walk. He stood on the bridge over the Ottawa River and gazed for a while
at the Chaudiere Falls, watching the mist rising from the chasm into
which the waters plunged. Then he walked along the other side of the
river, among big saw-mills and huge interminable piles of lumber, with
their grateful piny smell. By-and-by he found himself in the country, and
then the forest closed in upon the bad road on which he walked.
Nevertheless, he kept on and on, without heeding where he was going. Here
and there he saw clearings in the woods, and a log shanty, or perhaps a
barn. The result of all this was that, being a healthy man, he soon
developed an enormous appetite, which forced itself upon his attention in
spite of his depression.
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