Alexander McGlincy looked very haggard. He had not exactly lost weight but his chest had dropped somewhat. There was a new brightness to his puffily shapeless nose, a certain depth of blueness under his eyes and a certain weary droop to his misshapen mouth that all betokened great strain.
This occasioned no surprise in the partners. They, too, well knew the toll exacted by the heavy and harassing business of state.
McGlincy’s canoe made the landing and stopped there like a shot arrow hitting stone. The voyageurs were dripping with sweat and dropping with weariness, showing they had come far very fast.
McGlincy leaped out from under his canopy—the edge of which almost knocked his hat off—spread his feet apart to keep from weaving and struck an heroic pose, holding the bottle at present a
