A rough road through the pine wood led up to it.
Anderson knocked, and Mrs.Ginnell came to the door, a tired, and apparently sulky woman.
"I hear you have a lodger here, Mrs.Ginnell," said Anderson, standing in the doorway, "a man called McEwen; and that he wants to see me on some business or other." Mrs.Ginnell's countenance darkened.
"We have an old man here, Mr.Anderson, as answers to that name, but you'll get no business out of him--and I don't believe he _have_ any business with any decent crater.

When he arrived two days ago he was worse for liquor, took on at Calgary.

I made my husband look after him that night to see he didn't get at nothing, but yesterday he slipped us both, an' I believe he's now in that there outhouse, a-sleeping it off.
Old men like him should be sent somewhere safe, an' kep' there." "I'll go and see if he's awake, Mrs.Ginnell.

Don't you trouble to come.
Any other lodgers ?" "No, sir.

There was a bunch of 'em left this morning--got work on the Crow's Nest." Anderson made his way to the little "shack," Ginnell's house of the first year, now used as a kind of general receptacle for tools, rubbish and stores.
He looked in.