Mr. Munger then hurried the party to the weaving mills, where amid an uproar of thousands of moving wheels, bobbins, and shuttles the threads of yarn traveled back and forth, back and forth, and came out of the looms as cloth. The cloth was then steamed, pressed, and rolled or folded.
"And now, young man," announced Mr. Munger to Donald jestingly, "you have seen the whole process, and there is no reason why your father should not give you some wool and let you make your own cloth for your next suit of clothes."
Although Donald was very tired he tried to smile.
"I think," he said, "that I would rather grow the wool on the ranch than make it into cloth here. It is far nicer out on the ranges."
"That is what I am trying to tell my young assistant," agreed Mr. Munger. "He is getting fagged, aren't you, Mac? You see he was brought up in the open country, and much as we think of him, we feel that he should go back to the Western mountains."
"Oh, I am all right, Mr. Munger," the bookkeeper hastened to say. "Just a bit tired, perhaps--that is all."
"If you are tired you should try the ranges of Idaho," Mr. Clark said. "My boy, here, and myself have recently returned from a year in the sheep country and feel like new men, don't we, Don? Undoubtedly the life there may not be as gay as in the city; still--to quote my manager, Sandy McCulloch, 'with bears, bob-cats, and coyotes, I dinna see how it could ever be dull.'"
So perfectly had Mr. Clark imitated Sandy's voice and accent that Thornton and Donald both laughed. Then they stopped suddenly.
The young bookkeeper had turned very pale and was eying them with a startled face.
"Sandy McCulloch!" he repeated. "Did you say Sandy McCulloch, sir?"
"Yes, Sandy McCulloch," answered Mr. Clark. "Do you know him?"
"He must be of your kin, Mac!" interrupted Mr. Munger. "This lad, strangely enough, is a McCulloch himself--Douglas McCulloch."
"Then you must be--you are Sandy's brother!" cried Donald.
The young man swayed a little and put out his hand to steady himself.
It seemed to Donald as if he would never speak.
When he did his voice was tremulous with emotion.
"Yes," he replied almost in a whisper. "I am Sandy's brother. Tell me of Sandy and of my father."