SOME OF OUR NEIGHBOURS. 127 



two bites, one for himself, and one for his mate out- 

 side. I procured the man what he wanted. He held 

 out his hand to me, saying, " Thank you." 



"Are you a Scandinavian?" I asked, for his 

 action recalled a Norwegian custom. 



"No," he said: "German" 



I then addressed him in German; but he told me 

 he was born in America, and could not speak German. 

 I saw, however, that he was half intoxicated: so I 

 dismissed him, and he went away. I never saw him 

 again. 



Ere five minutes had passed I met another man at 

 the gate, a man young, well-dressed, and fairly well 

 educated, evidently a town dweller, and probably a 

 clerk or store salesman. It was the man who after- 

 wards wanted the work for fifty cents. 



" Can you tell me about the roads? " he began. 

 " I want to get to Procter [at the junction of the West 

 Arm and the main Kootenay Lake] ; but there is a 

 man waiting for me on the road to kill me." 



"Surely not?" I rejoined. 



" But there is," went on the stranger. " We have 

 quarrelled and had a scuffle, and he is out there 

 waiting for me. He means to do for me. Can't I 

 get past him by any other road? " 



" Not if you want to go to Procter. There's no 

 other road except the railway track. But why not 

 wait a bit and let the man get out of your way ? Or 

 go back to Nelson ? " I suggested. 



" Oh, he's one of the Black Hand [an Italian 

 secret society which was reputed to use violence, and 

 had its seat of operations at Fernie and other mining 

 towns in the Crows' Nest Pass, where there are a 



