One living in the house with McGregor during those first years in the
city might have thought his life stupid and commonplace but to him it
did not seem so. It was for the miner's son a time of sudden and
tremendous growth. Filled with confidence in the strength and
quickness of his body he was beginning to have also confidence in the
vigour and clearness of his brain. In the warehouse he went about with
eyes and ears open, devising in his mind new methods of moving goods,
watching the men at work, marking the shirkers, preparing to pounce
upon the tall German's place as foreman.
The superintendent of the warehouse, not understanding the turn of the
talk with McGregor on the sidewalk before the saloon, decided to like
him and laughed when they met in the warehouse. The tall German
maintained a policy of sullen silence and went to laborious lengths to
avoid addressing him.
In his room at night McGregor began to read law, reading each page
over and over and thinking of what he had read through the next day as
he rolled and piled apple barrels in the passages in the warehouse.
McGregor had an aptitude and an appetite for facts. He read law as
another and gentler nature might have read poetry or old legends. What
he read at night he remembered and thought about during the day.
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