The station-master came out of his shack for the eighth time. Again he walked around the formidable pile of baggage. Then he paused and looked Jim in the eye. "Waitin' for someone?" he asked. "Yes, for Mr. Hammond of Millbrook," answered Jim. "Amos Hammond?" "Yes." "My name's Harvey White." "Mine is James Todhunter." "Ye're an American?" "You bet." "Had yer dinner?" Jim hadn't, and he said so: and White invited him into the red shack, where there was a stove with a fire in it. The kettle was singing. White made tea, set the table, brought a crock of baked beans from the oven and an apple pie from the pantry and pushed a chair against the back of Jim's legs. "We can keep a look-out for Hammond through the window," he said. Jim was hungry and the food vanished swiftly. "Goin' into the woods from Millbrook?" asked White. "Yes, I expect to, of course," replied Jim. "Who's yer guide? The Ducats up to Piper's Glen are slick men in the woods, but it ain't always that any of 'em will take a sport into their country." Young Todhunter started to explain, then stopped. "Well, ye're after moose, I guess, ain't you?" added White. "I hope to go after moose, of course, and whatever other game you have here--but my chief reason for coming is to work for Mr. Hammond," answered Jim. The section of pie which White was raising to his mouth fell from the blade of his knife. He stared for a moment, then lowered his glance and his knife and resumed his interrupted consumption of pie. "Why not?" asked Jim, who had two perfectly good eyes in his head. "D'ye know him?" returned the other. "I've never met him." "Are you in business with him?" "Not exactly. Not yet, I mean to say: I'm to learn the business and then I might invest something in it." "Good wages?" "Oh, nothing to speak of. I'm new to business and the country, I can't expect much to start. I shall work with Mr. Hammond and get a practical knowledge of the business and the conditions under which it is carried on." "Hell!" "Say, what's wrong with Hammond?" "You'll soon find out more'n I know, I guess. Work's worth wages in this country. You don't look so darned green, neither. Do you play cards?"; "Cards? Yes, I know a few games. But about Hammond? What sort of person is he?" "What sort would he be, to bring a lad like you up here to work for him for almost nothing? But it ain't no affair of mine! D'ye know black-jack?" "Well, I've heard of it." "All right." White piled the dishes on a corner of the table and dealt from a pack of cards very much the worse for wear. Jim produced his cigarette case, opened it and extended it.