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Putnam's Sons<br /> + +New York and London<br /> + +The Knickerbocker Press</h6> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<p>To My Nephew</p> +<p>Geoffrey Frederick Burghard</p> +<p>This Book Is Affectionately Dedicated</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<p>THE AUTHOR TO THE READER</p> + + +<p>The story of the Sachigo wood-pulp mills, told in this +book, is entirely a work of imagination. But as I have +had to draw very largely on my knowledge of the wood-pulp +trade of Eastern Canada, and the conditions under +which it is carried on, I desire it to be clearly understood +that this story contains no portraiture of any +person or persons, living or dead, and contains no +representation of any business organisation connected +with the trade.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div" id="toc"><a name="toc_1"></a><h2>Contents</h2><ul class="toc"> + +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_1">Contents</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_2">Part I</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_3">Chapter I—The Crisis</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_4">Chapter II—The Man With The Mail</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_5">Chapter III—Idepski</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_6">Chapter IV—The "Yellow Streak"</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_7">Chapter V—Nancy Mcdonald</a></li> + +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_8">Chapter VI—Nathaniel Hellbeam</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_9">Part II—Eight Years Later</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_10">Chapter I—Bull Sternford</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_11">Chapter II—Father Adam</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_12">Chapter III—Bull Learns Conditions</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_13">Chapter IV—Drawing The Net</a></li> + +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_14">Chapter V—The Progress Of Nancy</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_15">Chapter VI—The Lonely Figure</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_16">Chapter VII—The Skandinavia Moves</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_17">Chapter VIII—An Affair Of Outposts</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_18">Chapter IX—On The Open Sea</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_19">Chapter X—In Quebec</a></li> + +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_20">Chapter XI—Drawn Swords</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_21">Chapter XII—At The Chateau</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_22">Chapter XIII—Deepening Waters</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_23">Chapter XIV—The Planning Of Campaign</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_24">Chapter XV—The Sailing Of The Empress</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_25">Chapter XVI—On Board The Empress</a></li> + +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_26">Chapter XVII—The Lonely Figure Again</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_27">Chapter XVIII—Bull Sternford'S Vision Of Success</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_28">Chapter XIX—The Hold-Up</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_29">Chapter XX—On The Home Trail</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_30">Chapter XXI—The Man In The Twilight</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_31">Chapter XXII—Dawn</a></li> + +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_32">Chapter XXIII—Nancy</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_33">Chapter XXIV—The Coming Of Spring</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_34">Chapter XXV—Nancy's Decision</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_35">Chapter XXVI—The Message</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 2em;"><a href="#toc_36">Chapter XXVII—Lost In The Twilight</a></li> +</ul></div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<p>Also By Ridgwell Cullum</p> + +<p>THE DEVIL'S KEG</p> +<p>THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH</p> +<p>THE BROODING WILD</p> +<p>THE NIGHT RIDERS</p> +<p>THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS</p> + +<p>THE COMPACT</p> +<p>THE TRAIL OF THE AXE</p> +<p>THE ONE WAY TRAIL</p> +<p>THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE</p> +<p>TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK</p> +<p>THE GOLDEN WOMAN</p> +<p>THE WAY OF THE STRONG</p> +<p>THE LAW BREAKERS</p> +<p>THE SON OF HIS FATHER</p> + +<p>THE MEN WHO WROUGHT</p> +<p>THE PURCHASE PRICE</p> +<p>THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS</p> +<p>THE LAW OF THE GUN</p> +<p>THE HEART OF UNAGA</p> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class="body"> + +<hr class="doublepage"> + +<div> +<h2>THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT</h2> + +</div> + +<div> +<a name="toc_2"></a> +<h2>Part I</h2> + + +<div> + +<a name="toc_3"></a> +<h3>Chapter I—The Crisis</h3> + +<p>They sat squarely gazing into each other's eyes. Bat +Marker had only one mood to express. It was a mood +that suggested determination to fight to a finish, to +fight with the last ounce of strength, the last gasp of +breath. He was sitting at the desk, opposite his friend +and employer, Leslie Standing, and his small grey eyes +were shining coldly under his shaggy, black brows. His +broad shoulders were squared aggressively.</p> + +<p>There was far less display in the eyes of Leslie Standing. +They were wide with a deep pre-occupation. But +then Standing was of very different type. His pale face, +his longish black hair, brushed straight back from an +abnormally high forehead, suggested the face of a +student, even a priest. Harker was something of the +roused bull-dog, strong, rugged, furious; a product of +earth's rough places.</p> + +<p>"Give us that last bit again."</p> + +<p>Bat's tone matched his attitude. It was abrupt, forceful, +and he thrust out a hand pointing at the letter from +which the other had been reading.</p> + +<p>Standing's eyes lit with a shadow of a smile as he +turned again to the letter.</p> + +<div class="display"> +<p>"There's just one thing more. It's less pleasant, so I've +kept it till the last. Hellbeam is in Quebec. So is his agent—the +man Idepski. My informant tells me he saw the latter +leaving the steam-packet office. It suggests things are on +the move your way again. However, my man is keeping tab. +I'll get warning through at the first sign of danger."</p> +</div> + + + +<p>Standing looked up. His half smile had gone. There +was doubt in his eyes, and the hand grasping the letter +was not quite steady. But when he spoke his tone was +a flat denial of the physical sign that Bat had been quick +to observe.</p> + +<p>"Charlie Nisson's as keen as a needle," Standing said. +"His whisper's a sight more than another fellow's shout."</p> + +<p>Bat regarded the letter. He watched the other lay +it aside on a pile of papers. He was thinking, thinking +hard. And his thought was mostly of the man whose +shaking hand betrayed him. Suddenly an explosive +movement brought his clenched fist down on the table +with a thud.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he cried, in a fury of impatience. "What's +the use? The danger sign's hoisted. I know it. You +know it. Nisson knows it. Well? Say, Hellbeam's +been in Quebec a score of times since—since—. That +don't worry a thing. No. He's got big finance in the +Skandinavia bunch in Quebec. We know all about that. +It's Idepski. Idepski ain't visiting the packet office for +his health. He ain't figgerin' on a joy trip up the Labrador +coast. No. That's the signal, sure. Idepski at the +packet office. Their darn mud-scow mostly runs here, +to Sachigo, and there ain't a thing along the way to +interest Idepski—but Sachigo. We'll be getting word +from Charlie Nisson in some hurry."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll get it in a hurry."</p> + +<p>Standing nodded. He was transparently perturbed. +Bat watched him closely. Then, in a moment, his mind +was made up.</p> + +<p>"See right here, Les," he cried, in a tone he vainly +endeavoured to restrain. "I've figgered right along this +thing would need to happen sometime. You can't beat a +feller like Hellbeam all the time and leave him without +a kick. It don't need me to tell you that. But I want +to get a square eye on the whole darn game. Maybe you + +don't get all you did to that guy when you cleaned him +out of ten million dollars on Wall Street seven years ago.</p> + +<p>"Say, you were a mathematical professor at a Scottish +University before you reckoned to buck the game on +Wall Street, weren't you?" he went on, more moderately. +He forced a grin into eyes that were scarcely accustomed. +"One of those guys who mostly make two and two into +four, and by no sort of imagination can cypher 'em into +five. I know. You figgered out that Persian Oil gamble +to suit yourself, and forgot to figger that Hellbeam was at +the other end of it. No. The other feller don't cut +any ice with you while you're playing around with +figgers. It's only afterwards you find that figgers ain't +the whole game, and wrostling ten million dollars out of +one of the biggest railroad kings and bank presidents +in America has something to it liable to hand you nightmare. +Well, you got that nightmare. So did I. You've +had it for most the whole of the last seven years. But +it ain't a nightmare now. It's dead real, which is only +a way of sayin' Hellbeam's set his dogs on a hot trail, +and we're the poor darn gophers huntin' our holes right +up here on the Labrador coast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I know what you'd say. You've said it +all before. Hellbeam hasn't a kick comin'. You were +both operators on Wall Street. You were both playing +the financial game as all the world knows it. You beat +him on a straight financial fight. It was just a matter +of the figgers which it's your job to play around with.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm just going to say the thing that's in my +mind," he went on, his tone changing again to something +clumsily persuasive. "You can take it easy from me. +You see, you picked me up when I was down and out. +You passed me a hand when there wasn't a hope left +me but a stretch of penitentiary. I fought that darn +lumber-jack to a finish, which is mostly my way in things. +And it was plumb bad luck that he went out by accident. + +Well, it don't matter. It was you who got me clear away +when they'd got the penitentiary gates wide open waiting +for me, and it's a thing I can't never forget. I'm out for +you all the time, and I want you to know it when I'm +telling you the things in my mind. Hellbeam's got a +mighty big kick coming. It's the biggest kick any feller +of his sort can have. He's the money power of Sweden. +He's one of the big money powers of the States. He lives +for money and the power it hands him. Well? This is +how I figger. Just how you played him up I can't say. +But it's his job to juggle around with figgers same as +it's yours, and if you beat him out of ten million dollars +you must have played a slicker hand than him. All of +which says you must have got more to windward of the +law than him—and he knows it. Why, it's easy. The +feller who has the money power to hold the crown jewels +of Sweden from falling into the hands of yahoo politicians +out to grab the things they haven't the brains to +come by honestly, is mostly powerful enough to buy up +the justice he needs, or any other old thing. Hellbeam +means to get his hands on you. He's going to get you +across the darn American border. And when he's got +you there he's going to send you down, by hook or crook, +to the worst hell an American penitentiary can show +you. It's seven years since you hurt him. But that ain't +a circumstance. If it takes him seventy-seven he'll never +quit your trail."</p> + +<p>Bat paused, and, for a moment, turned from the wide +black eyes he had held seemingly fascinated while he +was talking. It almost seemed that the emotions stirring +in his broad bosom were too overpowering for him, +and he needed respite from their pressure. But he came +again. He was bound to. It was his nature to drive to +the end at whatever cost to himself.</p> + +<p>"I'm handing you this stuff, Les, because I got to," +he went on. "It ain't because I'm liking it. No, sir. + +And if you've the horse sense I reckon you have, you'll +locate my object easy. Those words of Nisson's have +told us plain we got to fight. We got to fight like hell. +And the time's right now. Oh, yes, we're going to fight. +You an' me, just the same as we've fought a heap of +times before. There ain't a feller I know who's got +more fight in him than you—when you feel that way. +But—well, say, you just need a boost to make you feel +like it. You ain't like me who wants to fight most all +the time. No. Well—I'm going to hand you that boost."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Standing's unruffled interrogation was in sharp contrast +with the other's earnestness. There was a calm +tolerance in it. The tolerance of a temperament given to +philosophy rather than passion. Perhaps it was a mask. +Perhaps it was real. Whatever it was, Bat's next words +sent the hot fire of a man's soul leaping into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"When your boy's born, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>Bat's fists clenched at the sound of the other's ejaculation. +It was the nervous clenching at a sound that +threatened danger. Swift as a shot he followed up his +challenge.</p> + +<p>"Your pore gal's down there in Quebec hopin' and +prayin' to hand you that boy child you reckon Providence +is going to send you. Well, when he gets along, and +Hellbeam's around—and—"</p> + +<p>Bat broke off. Standing had risen from his chair. +He had moved swiftly, his lean figure propelled towards +the window by long, nervous strides. His voice came +back to the man at the table, while his eyes gazed down +upon the waters of Farewell Cove, over the widespread +roofs of the great groundwood mill, the building of which +was the result of his seven years' sojourn on the Labrador +coast.</p> + +<p>"You've handed it me, Bat," he said, in a quick, + +nervous way. "I'll fight. I know. You guess I'm +scared at Nisson's news. Maybe I am, I don't know. +I'm not a man of iron guts. Maybe I never shall be. +It's hell to me to feel a shadow dogging my every step. +Yes, you're right. It's been a nightmare, and now—why, +now it's real. But get your mind at rest. I'm going to +fight Hellbeam all I know. And with the thought of +Nancy, and the boy she's going to give me, I don't need +a thing else. No."</p> + +<p>"That's how I figgered."</p> + +<p>Bat's delight softened his hard eyes for the moment, +and his attitude relaxed as Standing went on.</p> + +<p>"You reckon I've no imagination," he said. "You +reckon I'm just a calculating machine that can juggle +figures better than any other machine." He shook his +dark head. "I guess you don't do me full justice. +When I quit the university on the other side it was +because I had built myself up a big dream. I crossed to +the United States with my imagination full of the things +I hoped to do. It was the chance I looked for. And I +found it in Hellbeam, and the Persian Oils it was his +hobby to manipulate. I jumped in and grabbed it with +both hands. And, as you say, I beat him at his own +game. But that was only part of my dream. The next +part you also know, though you choose to think it was +only as a refuge from Hellbeam that I came here to +Sachigo. I admit circumstances have modified my +original dream, but then I dreamed my first dream as a +man unmarried. Now I have added to it in the thought +of the son my wife's going to present me with. After +beating Hellbeam and making the fortune I desired, I +didn't flee here to the coast of Labrador as a mere refuge +from the man you tell me I robbed. No. This place +served its purpose that way, it's true. But it was the +place I selected long since for the fulfilment of the second +part of my dream.</p> + + +<p>"Bat—Bat, old friend. It isn't I who lack imagination. +It's you, with your bull-dog, fighting nature. +Years ago, way back there in my rooms at the university, +I took up a study that interested me mightily. It was +when the European war was on, and was doing its best +to unship the brains of half the world. I took it up to +relieve myself of the strain of things. And it inspired +me with a desire to achieve something that looked well-nigh +impossible. I was watching the Swedes, the +Skandinavians generally, and I saw them getting fat and +rich by holding the rest of the world to ransom for paper +and wood pulp—the stuff we call here groundwood. It +was then that my dream was born. Oh, yes, it's changed +a bit since then. But not so much. All I learned at +that time told me there was only one country in the +world that was due to hold the world's paper industry, +and that country was yours—Canada. The illimitable +forests of the country are one of the most amazing features +of it. The water power—yes, and even the climate. +But I saw all Skandinavia's advantage. Hitherto they've +had a complete monopoly. Geographically they were +in the thick of the world. The whole darn thing was +in their lap. But they have a weakness which you +could never find in this country. Their forests are being +eaten into. Their lumber is receding farther and farther +from their mills. Their labour is difficult. Well, I +set to work with a map and those figures which you +guess are my strong point. I played around with all the +information of Quebec and Labrador I could get hold +of. Then, after worrying around awhile, I realised +that, with only eighteen hundred sea miles dividing +Britain from Labrador, given the cheapness of power, +sufficiently extensive plant and forest limits and adequate +shipping, I could put groundwood on the European +market in favourable competition with Skandinavia. By +this means I could build up an industry which means the + +wealth of Canada for the Canadians, and establish the +paper industry of the world within the heart of our +British Empire. So it was Farewell Cove and Sachigo +on the coast of Labrador for me. And the locality had +nothing to do with the man who guesses I robbed him."</p> + +<p>It was Bat who was held silent now. He nodded his +head at the narrow back that remained turned on him.</p> + +<p>"Well, since then," Standing went on, "seven years +have passed. Circumstances have forced modifications +on my plans. Hellbeam is the circumstance. You say +we are the gophers hunting our holes. Maybe you're +right. Anyway Hellbeam's shadow is haunting me. +It's haunting me in that I know—<em>I</em> feel—that the fulfilment +of this dream is not for me. Why?"</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly from the window. His pale face +was even paler under the excitement burning in his +dark eyes. He thrust out a hand, a delicate, long-fingered +hand pointing at his friend and faithful +servant.</p> + +<p>"Say, you reckon I've no imagination. Listen. I +see the time coming when all you say of Hellbeam's +purpose will be fulfilled, and my dream shattered and +tumbling about my head. If Hellbeam succeeds, can +I let this thing happen? Can I sacrifice this great purpose +in such a personal disaster? No. My hope is in +my little wife, that dear woman who's given herself to +me with the full knowledge of the threat hanging over +my future. She and I have dreamed a fresh dream. +And she's even now fulfilling her part of that dream. Yes, +you're right. I'm going to fight for our dream with +every ounce that's in me. I know my failings. I'm +at heart a coward. But I'm out to fight though the gates +of hell are agape waiting for me. And when I'm beaten, +and Hellbeam's satisfied his kick, my boy, my little son, +will step into my shoes and carry on the work till it's +complete. Oh, yes, I say 'my son.' Nancy will see to + +it that she gives me a son. And, by God, how I will +fight for him!"</p> + +<p>Bat was silent before the tide of his friend's passion. +He listened to the strange mixture of clear thinking and +unreasoning faith with a feeling of something like awe +of a man whom he had long since given up attempting +to fathom. He was a rough lumberman, a mill-boss, +who, by sheer force, had raised himself from the dregs of +a lumber camp to a position where his skill and capacity +had full play. And in his utter lack of education it was +impossible that he should be able to fathom a nature so +complex, so far removed from his sphere of culture.</p> + +<p>His devotion to the ex-university professor was based +on a splendid gratitude such as only the native generosity +of his temper could bestow. The man had once served +him in his extremity. Even to this day he never quite +realised how the thing had come about, and Leslie Standing +refused to talk of it. All he knew was that as mill-boss +of an obscure mill, far in the interior of Quebec, +away down south of Sachigo, he had fought one of +those sudden battles with a lumber-jack which seem to +spring up without any apparent reason. And in the +desperateness of it, in the fierce height to which his +battling temper had arisen, he had killed his man. Even +so, these things were sufficiently common for little notice +of the matter to have been taken. But it so happened +that the dead man was the hero of the workers of the +mill, and Bat Harker was their well-hated boss. Forthwith, +in their numbers, the workers at once determined +that Bat should pay the penalty. They seized and imprisoned +him, while they sent down country to get him +duly tried and condemned. It was then the miracle +happened.</p> + +<p>It happened in the night, with the appearance of a +lean, tall man, with a high forehead, and smooth black +hair, and the clothes of civilisation to which Bat Harker + +was little enough accustomed. He entered his prison +room seemingly without question. He told Bat that if +he cared to get away he had the means awaiting him +outside. And the prisoner who had visions of hanging, +or at best, a long term of imprisonment, snatched at the +helping hand held out. And Leslie Standing had brought +him in safety straight to Farewell Cove, where together, +with the vast capital which the former had wrung from +the Swedish financier, Nathaniel Hellbeam, they had +undertaken the creation of the great mill of Sachigo.</p> + +<p>Bat, in his wonder at the apparent ease of his rescue, +had sought information. But little enough had been +forthcoming. Leslie Standing had only smiled in his +pensive fashion.</p> + +<p>"Money," he had said calmly. "Just money. It can +do most things."</p> + +<p>That was all. And thenceforward the subject had +been taboo. Even after seven years of intimate relations, +Bat was still mystified on the subject, he was still +guessing.</p> + +<p>Now, as he listened to his friend's expressions of faith, +so strangely jumbled with calculated purpose, he sat at +the table groping helplessly. Suppose—suppose that +faith were to be shattered. What then? His mind +was concerned, deeply concerned. And he dared not put +his fears into words.</p> + +<p>Standing came back to his chair.</p> + +<p>"Here, we've talked these things enough," he said. +"You've got my word. Just don't worry a thing. If +Hellbeam's dogs get around, well—we're here first. All +I want is news of Nancy. And that'll be along any old +time now. When I get that—."</p> + +<p>The door of the office was thrust open, and an olive-hued +face appeared. It was the clerk who worked in +direct contact with the owner of the Sachigo mill. He +was one-third nigger, another French Canadian, and the + +rest of him was Indian. It was a combination that +appealed to the man who employed him.</p> + +<p>"They've 'phoned it through from the wireless at +the headland, Boss," the man said without preamble, +pushing a sheet of paper into Leslie Standing's hand.</p> + +<p>He had gone as swiftly and silently as he came, and +the door was closed softly behind him.</p> + +<p>Standing was gazing across at Bat. He had not even +glanced at the message.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to bet," he cried, his eyes alight with a smiling +excitement. Then he shook his head. "No. I +wouldn't bet on it. It's too sacred. Nancy—my +Nancy—."</p> + +<p>He broke off, and glanced down at the paper. In a +moment the smile fell from his eyes. When he looked +up it was to flash a keen glance at the rugged face beyond +the desk.</p> + +<p>"Here, listen," he cried, with a sharp intake of breath.</p> + +<p>"Watch <em>Lizzie</em> for U.G.P. Signed—Nisson."</p> + +<p>Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"U.G.P. That's Union Great Peninsular Railroad. +That's Hellbeam's. It means—."</p> + +<p>"It means Hellbeam's men are aboard. The packet +<em>Lizzie</em> is due at our quay in less than an hour."</p> + +<p>Standing tore the message into small fragments and +dropped them into the wastepaper basket beside him. +Only was his emotion displayed in the deliberate care +with which he reduced the paper to the smallest possible +fragments.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_4"></a> +<h3>Chapter II—The Man With The Mail</h3> + + +<p>The calm waters of Farewell Cove lay a-shimmer under +the slanting rays of the sun. A wealth of racing white +cloud filled the dome of the summer sky, speeding under + +the pressure of a strong top wind. Even the harsh world +of Labrador was smiling under the beneficence of the +brief summer season.</p> + +<p>Leslie Standing stood for a moment before passing +down the winding woodland trail on his way to the +water-front below. The view of it all was irresistible to +him in his present mood, and he feasted his eyes hungrily +while the resolve he had taken yielded an inflexible +hardening.</p> + +<p>Bat Harker was less affected by the things spread out +before him. He was concerned only for the mood of the +man beside him. So he waited with such patience as +his hasty nature could summon.</p> + +<p>"It's all good, Bat, old friend," Standing said, after a +moment's silent contemplation. "It's too good to lose. +It's too good for us to stand for interference from—Nathaniel +Hellbeam."</p> + +<p>Bat grunted some sort of acquiescence. He was gazing +steadily out over the spruce belt which covered the +lower slopes of the hillside. His keen deep-set eyes were +on the shipping lying out in the cove, watching the fussy +approach of the bluff packet boat.</p> + +<p>It was a scene of amazing natural splendour which +the works of man had no power to destroy. Farewell +Cove was a perfect natural harbour, deep-set amidst +surrounding, lofty, forest-clad hills. It was wide and +deep, a veritable sea-lake, backing inland some fifteen +miles behind the wide headland gateway to the East, +which guarded its entrance from the storming Atlantic. +Its shores were of virgin forest, peopled with the delicate-hued +spruce, and all the many other varieties of soft, +white, long-fibred timber demanded in the manufacture +of the groundwood pulp needed for the world's paper +industry.</p> + +<p>Far as the eye could see, in every direction, it was the +same; forest and hill. And, in the heart of it all, the + +great watercourse of the Beaver River debouched upon +the cove which linked it with the ocean beyond. It was a +world of forest, seeming of limitless extent.</p> + +<p>But the feast that had inspired Leslie Standing's words +was less the banquet which Nature had spread than the +things which expressed the labours he and his companion +had expended during the past seven years. He was +concerned for the endless forests. He appreciated the +great waterfall to the west, where the Beaver River fell +off the highlands of the interior and precipitated itself into +the cove below. These were the two things in Nature +he had demanded to make his work possible. For the +rest, the rugged immensity of scenery, the mighty contours +of the aged land about him, the vastness of the +harsh primordial world, so inhospitable, so forbidding +under the fierce climate which Nature had imposed, made +no appeal. It served, and so it was sufficient. The +lights and shades under the summer sunlight were full of +splendour. No artist eye could have gazed upon it all +and missed its appeal. But these men lived amidst it +the year round, and they had learned something of the +fear which the ruthless northland inspires. To them +the beauty of the open season was a mockery, a sham, +the cruel trap of a heartless mistress.</p> + +<p>It was on the wide southern foreshore, just below +where the falls of the Beaver River thundered into the +chasm which the centuries of its flood had hewn in +the granite rock, that Standing had founded his great +mill. It lay there, in full view from the hillside, amidst +a tangle of stoutly made roads, where seven years ago +not even a game track had existed. He had set it up beside +his water-power, and had given it the name which belonged +to the ruined trading post he had found on the +southern headland of the cove when first he had explored +the region. Sachigo. A native, Labrador word which +meant "Storm." The trading post had since been re-built + +into a modern wireless station, and so had become no +longer the landmark it once had been. But Standing's +whim had demanded the necessity for preserving the +name, if only for the sake of its meaning.</p> + +<p>In seven years the translation of the wilderness had +been well-nigh complete. Its vast desolation remained. +That could never change under human effort. It was +one of the oldest regions of the earth's land, driven and +beaten and desolated under a climate beyond words in +its merciless severity. But now the place was peopled. +Now human dwellings dotted the forest foreshore of the +cove. And the latter were the homes of the workers +who had come at the mill-owner's call to share in his +great adventure.</p> + +<p>Then there was shipping in the cove. A fleet of +merchant shipping awaiting cargoes. There was a built +inner harbour, with quays, and warehouses. There were +travelling cranes, and every appliance for the loading +of the great freighters with all possible dispatch. There +were light railways running in every direction. There +were sheltering "booms" in the river mouth crammed +with logs, and dealt with by an army of river men +equipped with their amazing peavys with which they +thrust, and rolled, and shepherded the vast mass of hewn +timber towards the slaughterhouse of saws. Then, immediately +surrounding the mill, there was a veritable +town of storehouses and offices and machine shops of +every description. There were power-houses, there were +buildings in the process of construction, and the laid +foundations of others projected. It was a world of active +human purpose lost in the heart of an immense solitude +which it was nevertheless powerless to disturb.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's all too good to have things happen, Bat," +Standing went on presently. "Hark at the roar of the +falls. What is it? Five hundred thousand horsepower +of water, summer and winter. Listen to the drone of + +the grinders." He shook his head. "It's a great song, +boy, and they never get tired of singing it. There's +only thirty-six of 'em at present. Thirty-six. We'll +have a hundred and thirty-six some day. Look down +there at the booms." He stood pointing, a tall, lean +figure on the hillside. "Tens of thousands of logs, and +hundreds of men. We'll multiply those again and again—one +day. It's fine. The freighters lying at anchor +awaiting their cargoes. Some day we'll have our own +ships—a big fleet of 'em. See the smoke pennants floating +from our smoke stacks. They're the triumphant +pennants of successful industry, eh? We can't have +too many such flags flying. One day we'll have trolley +cars running along the shores of the cove to bring the +workers in to the mill. It'll be like a veritable Atlantic +City. Oh, it's a great big dream. There's nothing +amiss. No."</p> + +<p>"Only the <em>Lizzie</em> getting in."</p> + +<p>Bat was without apparent appreciation. He was +thinking only of the message they had received, and +the threat it contained.</p> + +<p>Standing glanced round at the sturdy figure beside +him. A half smile lit his sallow features. Then he +turned again and sought out the tubby vessel approaching +the wharf below. But it was only for a moment. Some +subtle thought impelled him, and he glanced back at the +house on the hillside he had just left, the house he had +erected for the woman whose devotion had taught him +the real meaning of life.</p> + +<p>It was a long, low, rambling, gabled building. It was +an extensive timber-built home with a wide verandah +and those many vanities and conceits of building that +would never have been permitted had it been intended +for bachelordom. He remembered how Nancy and he +had designed it together. He remembered the delight +with which they had looked forward to its completion, and + +ultimately their boundless joy in the task of its furnishing. +He remembered how Nancy had insisted that it should +contain not only their home, but his own private office, +from which he could control the great work he had set his +hand to. It had been her ardent desire to be always +near him, always there to support him under the burden +of his immense labours. And remembering these things +a fierce desire leapt within him, and he turned again to +the man at his side.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's getting in, Bat," he said. "But I just +wanted to get a peek at things. Well, I've seen all I +want, old friend. Now I'm ready. Fight? Oh, yes, +I'm ready to fight. Come on." And he laughed as he +hurried down the woodland trail to the water-side.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The two men had reached the quay-side, which was +lined with bales of wood-pulp stacked ready for shipment. +Farther down its length the cranes were rattling their +chains, swinging their burdens out over the holds of the +vessel taking in its moist cargo. The stevedores were +vociferously busy, working against time. For, in the +brief open season, time was the very essence of the success +demanded for the mills. The noise, the babel of it all +was usually the choicest music to Standing and his +manager.</p> + +<p>But just now they were less heeding. Their eyes were +turned upon the small steamer plugging its deliberate +way over the water towards them. It was a small, +heavily-built tub of a vessel calculated to survive the +worst Atlantic storms.</p> + +<p>Bat's face was without any expression of undue emotion. +But the hard lines about his clean-shaven mouth +were sharply set. Standing was asurge with an excitement +that fired his dark eyes. His wide-brimmed hat was +thrust back from his forehead, and he stood with his +hands thrust deeply in the pockets of his moleskin + +trousers. His nervous fingers were playing with loose +coins and keys which they found irresistible.</p> + +<p>The <em>Lizzie</em> came steadily on.</p> + +<p>"We'll know the whole game in minutes now."</p> + +<p>Standing could keep silent no longer. Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>Orders from the bridge of the packet boat rang out +over the water. Then Standing went on.</p> + +<p>"I want to find Idepski aboard," he said. He was +scarcely addressing his companion. "It would be good +to get Master Walter here, fifty-three degrees north." +A short, hard laugh punctuated his words. Then he +turned abruptly. "Who's running No. 10 camp?"</p> + +<p>Just for an instant Bat withdrew his gaze from the +approaching vessel. He flashed a keen look of enquiry +into the eyes of the questioner.</p> + +<p>"Ole Porson," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought so. He's a good boy. He'll do."</p> + +<p>Standing nodded. The cold significance of his tone +was not lost on his companion. Maybe Bat understood +the thing that was passing in the other's mind. At any +rate he turned again to the broad-beamed tub steaming +so busily towards them.</p> + +<p>"I see old Hardy on the bridge," Standing went on a +moment later. Then he added: "Fancy navigating the +Labrador coast for forty years. No, I couldn't do it. +I wouldn't have the—guts."</p> + +<p>Bat still remained silent. He understood. The other +was talking because it was impossible for him to refrain.</p> + +<p>"They're standing ready to make fast," Standing said +sharply. He drew a quick breath. Then his manner +changed and his words came pensively. "Say, it's a queer +life—a hell of a life. The sea folk, I mean. It's about +the worst on earth. Think of it, cooped within those +timbers that are never easy till they lie at anchor in the +shelter of a harbour. I'd just hate it. Their life? What + +is it? It's not life at all. Hard work, hard food, hard +times, and hard drinking—when they're ashore—most +of them. I think I can understand. They surely need +something to drown the memory of the threat they're +always living under. No, they don't live. They exist. +Here, let's stand clear. They're coming right in."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The bustle of landing was in full swing. Even with so +small a craft as the <em>Lizzie</em> there was commotion. Orders +flew from lip to lip. Creaking cables strained at unyielding +bollards. Gangways clattered out from deck, and +ran down on to the quay with a crash. Hatches were +flung open and the steam winches rattled incessantly.</p> + +<p>Standing and Harker were looking on from a vantage +point well clear of the work of unloading. The captain +of the vessel, "Old Man" Hardy, was with them. The +seaman was beaming with that satisfaction which belongs +to the master when his vessel is safely in port.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess it ain't been too bad a trip," he was +saying. "Takin' the 'ins' with the 'outs,' I'd say it was +a fairish passage, which is mostly as it should be, seein' + +it's my last voyage in the old barge. Y'see, you folks are +kind of robbing me of this blessed old kettle," he explained, +with a grin that lit up the whole of his mahogany +features. "Y'see we're loaded well-nigh rail under with +stuff for your mill, which don't leave a dog's chance for +the other folks along the coast. The Company guesses +they got to put on a two thousand tonner. The <em>Myra</em>. +I haven't a kick comin'. She's all a seaboat. Still, I'm +kind of sorry, don't you know. I've known the <em>Lizzie</em> + +since she came off the stocks, which is mostly forty years, +and we're mighty good friends, which ain't allus the way. +I'd say, too, I'm getting old for a change. Still—."</p> + +<p>Standing shook his head.</p> + +<p>"What do they say? 'Hardy' by name, 'Hardy' by +nature. The toughest and best sailorman on the Labrador + +coast! Well, I'm sorry you don't feel good about it. +But," he added with a smile, "it means a good deal to +us getting a bigger packet."</p> + +<p>Captain Hardy nodded.</p> + +<p>"Thankee kindly. It's good to know folks reckon a +fellow something more than just part of a kettle of scrap +like this old packet. But I'd have been glad to finish +my job with her. Still, times don't stand around even +in Labrador." He finished up with something in the +nature of a sigh.</p> + +<p>The work going forward was full of interest. But it +was not the work that held Standing, or the watchful +eyes of Bat Harker. Their sole interest was in the personality +of the crew and the five passengers, mostly +"drummers," from the great business houses of Quebec +and Montreal, who were struggling to land their trunks +of samples and get them off to the offices of the mill so +as to complete their trade before the <em>Lizzie</em> put to sea +again. Not one of these escaped their observation.</p> + +<p>"You seem to keep much the same crew right along, +Hardy," Standing said pleasantly. "I suppose they like +shipping with a good skipper. I seem to recognise most +of their faces."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. They're mostly the same boys," Hardy +agreed, obviously appreciating the compliment. "But +I guess I lost four boys this trip. They skipped half an +hour before putting to sea. It happens that way now +and then, if they're only soused enough when they get +aboard. They're a crazy lot with rye under their belts. +I just had to replace 'em with some dockside loafers, or +lie alongside another day."</p> + +<p>Standing nodded. A man was moving down the gangway +bearing a large, grey, official-looking sack on his +shoulders. He was a slight, dark man with a curiously +foreign cast about his features.</p> + +<p>"The mail?" he enquired. And a curious sharpness + +flavoured his demand. Then he added, with studied indifference. +"One of your—dockside loafers?"</p> + +<p>Captain Hardy laughed. He continued to laugh as +he watched the unhandiness of the man staggering down +the gangway under his burden.</p> + +<p>"Yep. The mail," he said. "And I'd hate to set +that feller to work on a seaman's job. He's about as +unhandy as a doped Chinaman. I'd say Masters is playing +safe keeping him from messing up the running gear +while we're discharging. Say, get a look at it."</p> + +<p>A great laugh accompanied the old man's words as the +foreign-looking creature tripped on the gangway, and +only saved himself from a bad fall by precipitating his +burden upon the quay. There was no responsive laughter +in Standing. And Bat Harker's features remained rigidly +unsmiling. Standing turned sharply.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can spare that boy to run those mails +up to my office," he said. "It's a good healthy pull +up the hill for him, and my folks are full to the neck +with things. I'd be glad."</p> + +<p>"Sure he can." Captain Hardy was only too delighted +to be able to oblige so important a customer of his company. +He promptly shouted at the landing officer.</p> + +<p>"Ho, you! Masters! Just let that darn Dago tote +them mails right up to Mr. Standing's office. He ain't +no sort of use out of hell down here—anyway."</p> + +<p>The mate's reply came back with an appreciative grin.</p> + +<p>"Ay, sir," he cried, and forthwith hurled the order at +the mail carrier with a plentiful accompaniment of +appropriate adjectives.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Standing turned away. His smiling +luminous eyes were shining. "I'll get right along up, +Captain. There's liable to be things need seeing to in +that mail before you pull out. You'd best come along, +too, Bat," he added pointedly.</p> + +<p>Standing hurried away. A sudden fierce passion was + +surging through his veins. Nisson was right. He knew +it—now. And in a fever of impatience he was yearning +to come to grips with those who would rob him of the +hopes in which his whole being was bound up.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_5"></a> +<h3>Chapter III—Idepski</h3> + + +<p>The two men reached the office on the hillside minutes +before the mail carrier. They took the hill direct, passing +hurriedly through the aisles of scented woods which +shadowed its face. The other, the stranger, was left +with no alternative but the roadway, zigzagging at an +easier incline.</p> + +<p>Standing passed into the house. His confidential man +of many races looked up from his work. The quick, +black eyes were questioning. He was perhaps startled +at the swift return of the man whom he regarded above +all others.</p> + +<p>Standing spoke coldly, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"There's a man coming along up. He's a sailorman, +and he's dressed in dirty dungaree, and he's carrying a +sack of mail. Now see and get this clearly, Loale. It's +important. It's so important I can't stand for any sort +of mistake. When he comes you've got to send him +right into my room with the mail-bag. I want him to +take it in <em>himself</em>. You get that?"</p> + +<p>The half-breed's eyes blinked. It was rather the +curious attitude of an attentive dog. But that was always +his way when the master of the Sachigo Mill spoke to +him.</p> + +<p>Pete Loale was quite an unusual creature. He looked +unkempt and unclean, with his yellow, pock-marked skin, +and his clothes that would have disgraced a second-hand +dealer's stores of waste. But for all his lack in these + +directions there was that in the man which was more +than worth while. Out of his black eyes looked a world +of intelligence. There was also a resource and initiative +in him that Standing fully appreciated.</p> + +<p>"Sure I get that," he said simply. Then he repeated +in the manner of a child determined to make no mistake. +"He's to take that mail-bag right into your office—<em>himself</em>."</p> + +<p>"That's it. Don't knock on my door. Don't let +him think there's a soul inside that room. Just boost +him right in. You get that?"</p> + +<p>The half-breed nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll just say: 'Here you! Just push that darn +truck right inside that room, an' don't worry me with it, +I'm busy.' That how?" The man hunched his slim +shoulders into a shrug.</p> + +<p>"See you do it—just that way," Standing said. Then +he turned to Bat. "We'll get inside," he went on. "He'll +be right along."</p> + +<p>They passed into the office. The door closed behind +them and Standing moved over to his seat at the crowded +desk.</p> + +<p>"Wal?"</p> + +<p>Bat was still standing. He failed to grasp his friend's +purpose. His wit was unequal to the rapid process of +the other's swiftly calculating mind.</p> + +<p>Standing littered his writing-pad with papers. He +picked up a pen and jabbed it in the inkwell. Then he +flung it aside and adopted a fountain-pen which he drew +from his waistcoat pocket. His eyes lit with a half-smile +as he finally raised them to the rugged face before him.</p> + +<p>"You sit right over there by that window, Bat," he +said easily. "If you get a look out of it you'll be amazed +at the number of things to interest you." He nodded as +Bat moved away with a grin and took the chair indicated. +"That's it. Just sit around, and you won't see or even + +hear the fellow with the mail fall in through the door. +And maybe, sitting there, you'll want to smoke your +foul old pipe. Sort of pipe of peaceful meditation. Yes, +I'd smoke that pipe, old friend, but you can cut out the +peaceful meditation. You need to be ready to act quick +when I pass the word. It's going to be easy. So easy +I almost feel sorry for—Idepski."</p> + +<p>"It <em>is</em>—Idepski?" Bat filled and lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>"It surely is. No other. And—I'm glad. Now we'll +quit talk, old friend. Just smoke, and look out of that +window, and—think like hell."</p> + +<p>Bat's understanding of his friend was well founded. +The extreme nervous tension in Standing was obvious. +It was in the wide, dark eyes. It was in the constant +shifting of the feet which the table revealed. For the +time, at least, the cowardice Standing claimed for himself +was entirely swamped. He was stirred by the headlong +excitement of battle in a manner that left Bat more than +satisfied.</p> + +<p>Once Bat turned from his contemplation of the piled-up +country beyond the valley. It was at the sound of +Standing's fiercely scratching pen. And his quick gaze +took in the luxury of the setting for the little drama he +felt was about to be enacted.</p> + +<p>It was a wide, pleasant room, built wholly of red pine, +and polished as only red pine will polish. There was a +thick oriental carpet on the floor, and all the mahogany +furniture was upholstered in red morocco. There were +a few carefully selected pictures upon the walls, hung +with an eye to the light upon each. But it was not an +extravagant room. It suggested the homeland of Scotland, +from which the owner of it all hailed. The Canadian +atmosphere only found expression in the great steel +stove which stood in one corner, and the splendid timber +of which the walls of the room were built.</p> + +<p>But Bat's eyes swiftly returned to their allotted task, + +and his reeking pipe did its duty with hearty goodwill. +There was the sound of strident voices in the outer room, +and the rattle of the door handle turning with a wrench.</p> + +<p>The door swung open. The next moment there was +the sound of a sack pitched upon the soft pile of the +carpet. And through the open doorway the harsh voice +of Loale pursued the intruder in sharp protest.</p> + +<p>"Say, do you think you're stowing cargo in your +darn, crazy old barge?" he cried. "If you fancy throwing +things around you best get out an' do it. Guess +you ain't used to a gent's office, you darn sailorman—"</p> + +<p>But the door was closed with a slam and the rest of the +protest was cut off. Bat swung about in his chair to +discover a picture not easily to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Standing had left his desk. He was there with his +back against the closed door, and his lean figure towered +over the shorter sailorman in dungaree, who stood gazing +up at him questioningly. The sight appealed to the grim +humour of the manager. He wanted to laugh. But he +refrained, though his eyes lit responsively as he watched +the smile of irony that gleamed in the mill-owner's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, well." Standing's tone lost none of the aggravation +of his smile. "Say, I'd never have recognised +you, Idepski, if it hadn't been that I was warned you'd +shipped on the <em>Lizzie</em>." He laughed outright. "I can't +help it. You wouldn't blame me laughing if you could +see yourself. Last time I had the pleasure of encountering +you was in Detroit. That's years ago. How many? +Nearly seven. It seems to me I remember a bright-looking + +'sleuth,' neat, clean, spruce, with a crease to his +pant-legs like a razor edge, a fellow more concerned for +his bath than his religion. Say, where did you raise all +that junk? From old man Hardy's slop-chest? Hellbeam +makes you work for your money when you're driven to +wallowing in a muck-hole like the <em>Lizzie</em>. It isn't worth +it. You see, you've run into the worst failure you've + +made in years. But I only wish you could see the sorry +sort of sailorman you look."</p> + +<p>Standing's right hand was behind him, and Bat heard +the key turn in the lock of the door. He waited. But the +trapped agent never opened his lips.</p> + +<p>Idepski had seen Standing and the other down at the +quay-side. He had left them there when he started up +the hill. Yet—A bitter fury was driving him. He +realised the trap that had been laid. He realised something +of the deadly purpose lying behind it. So he +remained silent under the scourge that was intended to +hurt.</p> + +<p>For all the filthy dungarees tucked into the clumsy +legs of high leather sea boots, the dirty-coloured handkerchief +knotted about his neck, the curious napless cloth +cap with its peak pulled down over one eye, that curious +cap which seems to be worn by no one else in the world +but seafaring men, it was easy enough for Bat to visualise +the dapper picture, that other picture of Walter Idepski +that Standing had described. The man possessed a well-knit, +sinuous figure which his dungarees could not +disguise. His alert eyes were good-looking. And, cleaned +of the black, stubbly growth of beard and whisker, an +amazing transformation in his looks would surely have +been achieved. But Bat's interest was less with these +things than with the possible reaction the man might +contemplate.</p> + +<p>For the moment, however, the situation was entirely +dominated by Standing, who displayed no sign of relaxing +his hold upon it. He flung out a pointing hand, and +Bat saw it was grasping the door key.</p> + +<p>"You'd best take that chair, Idepski," he ordered. +"You've opened war on me, but there's no need to keep +you standing for it. You'll take that seat against my +writing table. But first, Bat, here, is going to relieve +you of the useless weapons I see you've got on you. Get + +those, Bat! There's a gun and a sheath knife, and they're +clumsily showing their shape under his dungarees."</p> + +<p>It was the word the mill-manager had awaited. He +was on his feet in an instant. Idepski stirred to action. +He turned to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Keep your darn hands off!" he cried fiercely. +"By—"</p> + +<p>His hand had flown to his hip. But he was given no +time. Bat was on him like an avalanche, an avalanche +of furious purpose. The fighting spirit in him yearned, +and in a moment his victim was caught up in a crushing +embrace. There was a short, fierce struggle. But +Idepski was no match for the super lumber-jack.</p> + +<p>While Bat held on, the tenacious hands of Standing +tore the weapons he had discovered from their hiding +places. Then in a moment Idepski found himself sprawling +in the chair he had been invited to take.</p> + +<p>Standing's appreciation was evident as he watched the +man draw a gold cigarette case from the breast pocket +of his overalls as though nothing had occurred. It was +an act of studied coolness that did not for a moment +deceive, but it pleased. However, his next effrontery +pleased the mill-owner still more.</p> + +<p>"Say, boys," Idepski observed quietly, as he opened +the case and extracted a cigarette. "I guess I'm kind o' +glad you left me this. But I don't figger you're out for +loot, anyway." Then he glanced up at the man watching +him so interestedly. "Maybe you'll oblige me with a +light," he demanded, and cocked up the cigarette he had +thrust between his lips with an exaggerated impertinence.</p> + +<p>The action was quite irresistible and Standing nodded.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said smilingly, and picked up the matchbox +lying on his table.</p> + +<p>He struck a match and held it while the other obtained +the required light. Then he passed round the desk to +the seat he had originally occupied.</p> + + +<p>Idepski leant back in his chair, and luxuriated in a +deep inhalation of smoke. Bat watched him from his +place at the window. Standing placed the revolver and +sheath knife he had taken possession of in a drawer in the +desk, and closed it carefully.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the play?" Idepski addressed himself +solely to Standing. "I guess you've said a deal calculated +to rile, and your pardner's done more," he went on. +"Still—anyway we're mostly men and not school-kids. +What's the play?"</p> + +<p>Standing, too, was leaning back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"It's easy," he said, after a moment's thoughtful +regard. Suddenly he drew his chair up to the table, +and, leaning forward, folded his arms upon the littered +blotting pad in front of him. "It's seven years since +Hellbeam—blazed the war trail," he said deliberately. +"I know he's persistent. He's angry. And he's the +sort of man who doesn't cool down easily. But it's taken +him seven years to locate me here. And during all that +time I've been looking on, watching his every move." +He shook his head. "He's badly served, for all his +wealth. He was badly served from the start. You +should never have let me beat you in that first race across +the border. I got away with every cent of the stuff, +and—you shouldn't have let me. You certainly were at +fault. However, it doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>Idepski removed his cigarette from his lips and dropped +the ash of it in the waste basket.</p> + +<p>"No. It doesn't matter, because I'll get you—in the +end," he retorted coldly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>Standing shrugged. But there was no indifference in +his eyes. The acid sharpness of Idepski's retort had +driven straight home. If the agent failed to detect it, +the watchful eyes of Bat missed nothing. To him the +danger signal lay in the curious flicker of his friend's + +eyelids. The sight impelled him. He jumped in and +took up the challenge in the blunt fashion he best +understood.</p> + +<p>"Guess you've got nightmare, boy," he said, with a +sneering laugh. "I ain't much at figgers, but it seems +to me if it's taken you seven years to locate us here, it's +going to take you seventy-seven gettin' Standing back +across that border. Work it out."</p> + +<p>Idepski had no intention of being drawn. He replied +without turning.</p> + +<p>"You think that?" he said easily. "Say, don't worry +a thing; I'm satisfied. Just as sure as the sun'll rise +to-morrow, Hellbeam'll get Leslie Martin, or Standing +as he chooses to call himself now, just where he needs +him. And if I know Hellbeam that'll be in the worst +penitentiary the United States can produce. Guess you're +going to wish you hadn't, Mister—Standing."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Idepski knew his man, and understood the +weakness of which Bat was so painfully aware. Perhaps +he was just fencing, or even putting up a bluff in view +of his own position. Whatever his purpose the effect +of his added threat was instant.</p> + +<p>Standing's luminous eyes hardened. The muscles of +his jaws gripped. He sat up, and his whole attitude +expressed again that fighting mood in which Bat rejoiced.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said sharply. "That's just talk. +You've come a hell of a long way with those boys of +yours down at the <em>Lizzie</em> to worry out some body-snatching. +That's all right. I don't just see how you've +figgered to do it. But that's your affair. The point is, +I'm going to do the body-snatching instead of you. And +it's quite clear to me how I intend doing it. You're +going a trip—right off. And it's a trip from which you +won't get a chance of getting back to Quebec under this +time next year. You see, winter's closing down in a +month, and Labrador and Northern Quebec aren't wholesome + +territory for any man to set out to beat the trail in +winter, especially with folks around anxious to stop him. +You reckon I'm to pass a while in a States penitentiary. +Well, meanwhile you're going to try what this country +can show you in the way of a—prison ground. And +you're going to try it for at least a year. You'll be +treated white. But you'll need to work for your grub +like other folks, and if you don't feel like working you +won't eat. We're fifty-three degrees north here, and our +ways are the tough ways of the tough country we live +in. There's no sort of mercy in this country. Bat, here, +is going to see you on your trip, and, if you take my +advice, you won't rile Bat. He's got it in him, and in +his hands, to make things darn unpleasant for you. +You've a goodish nerve, and maybe you've goodish sense. +You'll need 'em both for the next twelve months. After +that it's up to you. But if you try kicking between now +and then, why—God help you."</p> + +<p>Standing beckoned Bat from his seat at the window. +He held up the door key.</p> + +<p>"You best take this," he said. "No. 10. And he +starts out right away. He needs to be well on the road +before the <em>Lizzie</em> puts to sea."</p> + +<p>Bat took the key. He moved away and unlocked +the door, and remained beside it grimly regarding the +man who had listened without comment to the sentence +passed on him, without the smallest display of emotion. +Idepski was smoking his second cigarette.</p> + +<p>"No. 10. I s'pose that's one of your lumber camps." +Idepski looked up from his contemplation of the cigarette. +His dark eyes were levelled at the man across the writing +table. "A tough place, eh? or you wouldn't be sending +me there." He laughed in a fashion that left his eyes +coldly enquiring.</p> + +<p>Standing inclined his head. He was without mercy, +without pity.</p> + + +<p>"It's a tough camp in a tough country," he said deliberately. +"It's a camp where you'll get just as good a +time as you choose to earn. The boy who runs it learnt +his job in the forests of Quebec, and you'll likely understand +what that means. Well, you're going right off +now. But there's this I want to tell you before I see +the last of you—for a year. I know you, Idepski. I +know you for all you are, and all you're ever likely to +be. You're an unscrupulous blackmailer and crook. +You're a parasite battening yourself on the weakness of +human nature, taking your toll from whichever side of +a dispute will pay you best. You're taking Hellbeam's +money in the dispute between him and me, and you'll +go on taking it till you pull off the play he's asking, or +get broken in the work of it. That's all right as far as +I'm concerned. You've nerve, you've courage, or you +wouldn't be the crook you are. I guess you'll go on +because I've no intention of competing with Hellbeam +for your services. But I want you to understand clearly +you've jumped into a mighty big fight. This is a country +where a fight can go on without the prying eyes of the +laws of civilisation peeking into things. And by that I +take it you'll understand I reckon to make war to the +knife. You came here prepared to use force. That's all +right. We shan't hesitate to use force on our side. And +we're going to use it to the limit. If peace is only to be +gained at the cost of your life you're going to pay that +cost—if it suits me. That's all I've to say at the moment. +For the present, for a year, you'll be safely muzzled. +You see, I don't need to worry with those boys you +brought with you. You best go along with Bat now. +He'll fix things ready for your trip."</p> + +<p>The dismissal was complete, and Bat was prompt to +accept his cue. He moved towards the man smoking at +the table, much in the fashion of a warder advancing to +take possession of his prisoner after sentence of the court.</p> + + +<p>It was at that moment that the cold mask of indifference +fell from the agent. Hardy as he was, the contemplation +of his momentary failure, which was about to +cost him twelve months of hardship in one of the roughest +lumber camps in Labrador, robbed him of something of +that nerve which was his chief asset. He glanced for +the first time at the burly figure of Bat. He contemplated +the rugged features of the man whose battling instinct +was his strongest characteristic. He read the purpose +in the grim set of the square jaws, and in the unyielding +light of the grey eyes peering out from under shaggy +brows. And that which he read reduced him to a feeling +of impotence. He flung a look of fury and hate at the +man behind the desk.</p> + +<p>"Maybe that's all you've to say," he cried, his jaws +snapping viciously over his words, his eyes fiercely +alight. "You think you've won when you've only gained +a moment's respite. You can't win. You don't know. +Oh, yes. I guess you can send me along out of the way. +You can do just all you reckon. And if it suits you, you +can shoot me up or any other old thing. You forget +Hellbeam. You tell me I'm a crook and a blackmailer, +you give me credit for nerve and courage. That's all +right. You think these things, and I don't have to worry. +But you've robbed Hellbeam. You've robbed him like +any common 'hold-up'—of millions. It's not for you to +talk of crooks and blackmailers. The laws of the States +are going to find you the crook, and Hellbeam'll see they +don't err for leniency. Hellbeam'll get you as sure as +God. You've got months to think it over, and when +you've done I reckon you won't fancy shouting. Well, +I'm ready for this joy spot you call No. 10. I'm not +going to kick. I've sense enough to know when the +drop's on me. But you'll see me again. Oh, yes, you'll +see me again because you're not going to shoot me up. +For all your talk you haven't the nerve. You'll see me + +again, and when you do—well, don't forget Hellbeam's +at the other end of this business. Guess I'm ready."</p> + +<p>The man stood up. And as he stood his eyes looked +squarely into those of Bat.</p> + +<p>"Get on with it," he cried, and flung the remains of +his lighted cigarette on the pile of the carpet, and trod +it viciously underfoot with his heavy sea boot.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Standing was alone. He was alone with the thoughts +his encounter with Idepski had inspired. Judging by +the expression of his reflective eyes they were scarcely +those of a man confident of victory. Had Bat been +there to witness, the task he was at that moment engaged +upon would surely have been robbed of half its satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But Bat had gone. And with him had gone the man +who was to learn the rigours of a Labrador winter under +conditions of hardship he had not yet realised. Meanwhile +Standing was free to think as his emotions guided +him, with no watchful eyes to observe.</p> + +<p>"You'll see me again, and when you do—well, don't +forget Hellbeam's at the other end of this business."</p> + +<p>The words haunted. The threat of them appealed +to an imagination that was a-riot.</p> + +<p>After a time Standing stirred restlessly. He sat up +and brushed the litter of paper aside. Then he leant back +in his chair and his fine eyes were lit with an agony of +doubt and disquiet. The poisonous seed of the agent's +retort had fallen upon fruitful soil.</p> + +<p>But after awhile the tension seemed to relax, and his +gaze wandered from the grey daylight beyond the window +and was suddenly caught and held by the mail bag, still +lying where the man had flung it. It was like the swift +passing of a summer storm. The man's whole expression +underwent a complete transformation. The mail! +The mail from Quebec—unopened!</p> + + +<p>He sprang to his feet. For the moment Idepski, Hellbeam, +everything was forgotten. His thought had +bridged the miles between Farewell Cove and the ancient +city of the early French, Nancy! That woman—that +devoted wife who was striving with all the power of a +frail body to serve him. There would be a letter in that +mail from Nisson, telling him—Yes. There might +even be a letter from Nancy herself.</p> + +<p>The sack was in his hands. He had broken the seals. +He shook out the contents upon the floor. A packet of +less than half a hundred letters, and the rest was an +assortment of parcels of all shapes and sizes. It was the +letter packet that interested him, and he untied the string +that held it.</p> + +<p>A swift search produced the expected. Standing looked +for the handwriting of Charles Nisson, the shrewd, obscure +lawyer in the country town of Abercrombie. He had +never yet failed him. He would not be likely to. A +bulky letter remained in his hand. The others lay +scattered broadcast upon the desk.</p> + +<p>For some moments he held the letter unopened. The +lean fingers felt the bulk of the envelope, while feverish +eyes surveyed, and read over and over the address in the +familiar small, cramped handwriting. The impulse of +the moment was to tear open the letter forthwith, to +snatch at the tidings he felt it to contain. But something +deterred. Something left him doubting, hesitating. It +was what Bat had called his "yellow streak." Suppose—suppose—But +with all his might he thrust his fears +aside. He tore off the outer cover and unfolded the closely +written pages.</p> + +<p>Long, silent moments passed, broken only by the +shuffling of the sheets of the letter as he turned them. +Not once did he look up from his reading. Right through +to the end, the dreadful, bitter end, he read the hideous +news his loyal friend had to impart. Twice, during the + +reading, the sharp intake of breath, that almost whistled +in the silence of the room, told of an emotion he had no +power to repress, and at the finish of it all the mechanically +re-folded page's fell from shaking, nerveless fingers upon +the littered desk.</p> + +<p>His eyes remained lowered gazing at the fallen letter. +His hands remained poised where the letter had fallen +from them. His face had lost its healthful hue. It was +grey, and drawn, and the lips that parted as he muttered +had completely blanched.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" he whispered without consciousness of +articulation. "Dead! Nancy! My boy! Both! Oh, +God!"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_6"></a> +<h3>Chapter IV—The "Yellow Streak"</h3> + + +<p>The grey, evening light was significant of the passing +season. A chilly breeze whipped about the faces of the +men at the fringe of the woods. They were resting after +a long tramp of inspection through the virgin forests. +It was on a ledge, high up on the hillside of the northern +shore of the cove, where the ground dropped away in +front of them several hundreds of feet to the waters +below. Behind them was a backing of standing timber +which sheltered them from the full force of the biting +wind.</p> + +<p>It was nearly a week since Bat Harker had returned +from his mission to No. 10 Camp. He had returned +full of satisfaction at the completion of his task, and +comforted by the knowledge that the horizon of the +mill had been cleared of threatening clouds for at least +the period of a year. Then he encountered the ricochet +of the blow which Fate had dealt his friend and +employer.</p> + + +<p>It had been within half an hour of his return, while +yet the stains and dust of his journey remained upon +him, while yet he was yearning for that rest for his +body to which it was entitled.</p> + +<p>Bat had concluded the report of his journey, and +the two men were closeted together in the office on +the hillside. The lumberman had had no suspicion of +the thing that had happened in his absence, and +Standing had given no indication. Standing seemed +unchanged. There had been the customary smile of welcome +in his eyes. There had been the cordial handshake +of friendship. Maybe Standing had talked less, +and the searching questions usual in him had not been +forthcoming. Maybe there was a curiously tired, +strained look in his eyes. But that was all.</p> + +<p>At the conclusion of his report Bat had bent eagerly +forward over the desk which stood between them. His +hard eyes were smiling. His whole manner was that +of a man anticipating something pleasant.</p> + +<p>"Say, Les," he cried, "guess you've maybe some +news for me, too. It's more than a month since—and +you were expecting—Things all right?"</p> + +<p>Standing reached towards the drawer beside him, and +as he did so there was a sound. It was a curious, inarticulate +sound that Bat interpreted into a laugh. The +other opened the drawer and drew out the folded pages +of a letter. These he passed across the table, and his +eyes were without a shadow of the laugh which Bat +thought he had heard.</p> + +<p>"Best read it," he said. "Take your time. I'll just +finish these figures I'm working on."</p> + +<p>It was the curious, cold tone that stirred Bat to his +first misgiving.</p> + +<p>He took the letter. There were pages of it. He set +them in order and commenced to read. And meanwhile +Standing remained apparently engrossed in his figures.</p> + + +<p>He read the letter through. He read it slowly, +carefully. Then, like the other had done, the man to +whom it was addressed, he read it a second time. And +as he read every vestige of his previous satisfaction +passed from him. A cold constriction seemed to fasten +upon his strong heart. And a terrible realisation of +the tragedy of it all took possession of him. At the +end of his second reading he handed the letter back to +its owner without comment of any sort, without a word, +but with a hand that, for once in his life, was +unsteady.</p> + +<p>"That was in the mail Idepski brought," Standing +said, as he returned the letter to its place, and shut and +locked the drawer.</p> + +<p>"You remember?" he went on, pointing. "He flung +it down there. Just by the door. Yes, it was just +there, because I stood against the door, and was only +just clear of it."</p> + +<p>He paused and his hand remained pointing at the +spot where the mail bag had lain. It was as if the +spot held him fascinated. Then his arm lowered +slowly, and his hand came to rest on the edge of the +table, gripping it with unnecessary force.</p> + +<p>"Seems queer," he went on, after a while. Then he +shook his head. "Think of it. Nancy—my Nancy. +Dead! She died giving birth to my boy. And he—he +was stillborn. Why? I—I can't seem to realize it. +I—don't—" He paused, and a strained, hunted look +grew in his eyes. "No. It's easy. It's just Fate. +That's it. There's no escape."</p> + +<p>He drew a deep breath and one lean hand smoothed +back his shining black hair. Then his eyes came back +to the face of the man opposite, and the agony in them +was beyond words. After a moment their terrible expression +became lost as he bent over his work. "I'm +glad you're back, Bat," he said, without looking up.</p> + + +<p>"There's a hell of a lot of orders to get out. We're +running close up to winter."</p> + +<p>The lumberman understood. At a single blow this +man's every hope had been smashed and ground under +the heel of an iron fate. The wife, the woman he had +worshipped, had given her life to serve him, and with her +had gone the man-child, about whom had been woven +the entire network of a father's hopes and desires.</p> + +<p>A week had passed since Bat had witnessed the voiceless +agony of his friend. A week of endless labour +and unspoken fears. He knew Standing as it is given +to few to know the heart of another. His sympathy +was real. It was of that quality which made him +desire above all things to render the heartbroken man +real physical and moral help. But no opening had +been given him, and he feared to probe the wound +that had been inflicted. During those first seven +days Standing seemed to be obsessed with a desire to +work, to work all day and every night, as though he +dared not pause lest his disaster should overwhelm +him.</p> + +<p>Now it was Sunday. Night and day the work had +gone on. No less than ten freighters had been loaded +and dispatched since Bat's return, and only that morning +two vessels had cast off, laden to the water-line, and +passed down on the tide for the mouth of the cove. At +the finish of the midday meal Standing had announced +his intentions for the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"We need to get a look into the lumber on the north +side, Bat," he said. "You'd best come along with me. +How do you think?"</p> + +<p>And Bat had agreed on the instant.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said. "There's a heap to be done that +way if we're to start layin' the penstocks down on that +side next year."</p> + +<p>So they had spent the hours before dusk in a + +prolonged tramp through the forests of the Northern +shore. And never for one moment was their talk and +apparent interest allowed to drift from the wealth of +long-fibred timber they were inspecting.</p> + +<p>But somehow to Bat the whole thing was unreal. It +meant nothing. It could mean nothing. He felt like +a man walking towards a precipice he could not avoid. +He felt disaster, added disaster, was in the air and +was closing in upon them. He knew in his heart that +this long, weary inspection, all the stuff they talked, all +the future plans they were making for the mill was +the merest excuse. And he wondered when Standing +would abandon it and reveal his actual purpose. The +man, he knew, was consumed by a voiceless grief. +His soul was tortured beyond endurance. And there +was that "yellow streak," which Bat so feared. When, +when would it reveal itself? How?</p> + +<p>Now, at last, as they rested on the ledge overlooking +the mill and the waters of the cove, he felt the moment +of its revelation had arrived. He was propped against +the stump of a storm-thrown tamarack. Standing was +stretched prone upon the fallen trunk itself. Neither +had spoken for some minutes. But the trend of +thought was apparent in each. Bat's deep-set, troubled +eyes were regarding the life and movement going on +down at the mill, whose future was the greatest concern +of his life. Standing, too, was gazing out over the +waters. But his darkly brooding eyes were on the splendid +house he had set up on the opposite hillside. It was +the home about which his every earthly hope had centred. +And even now, in his despair, it remained a magnet for +his hopeless gaze.</p> + +<p>Winter was already in the bite of the air and in the +absence of the legions of flies and mosquitoes as well +as in the chilly grey of the lapping waters below them. +It was doubtless, too, searching the heart of these men + +whose faces gave no indication of the sunlight of +summer shining within.</p> + +<p>"Bat!"</p> + +<p>The lumberman turned sharply. He spat out a stream +of tobacco juice and waited.</p> + +<p>"Bat, old friend, it's no use." Standing had swung +himself into a sitting posture. He was leaning forward +on the tree-trunk with his forearms folded across +his knees. "We've done a lot of talk, and we've searched +these forests good. And it's all no use. None at all. +There's going to be no penstocks set up this side of the +water next year—as far as I'm concerned. I've done. +Finished. Plumb finished. I'm quitting. Quitting it all."</p> + +<p>The lumberman ejected a masticated chew and took +a fresh one.</p> + +<p>"You see, old friend, I'll go crazy if I stop around," +Standing went on. "I've been hit a pretty desperate +punch, and I haven't the guts to stand up to it. When +it came I set my teeth. I wanted to keep sane. I reminded +myself of all I owed to the folks working for +us. I thought of you. And I tried to bolster myself +with the schemes we had for beating the Skandinavians +out of this country's pulp-wood trade. Yes, I tried. +God, how I tried! But my guts are weak, and I know +what lies ahead. For nearly six weeks I've been working +things out, and for a week I've been wondering +how I should tell you. I brought you here to tell you.</p> + +<p>"I want you to understand it good," he went on, +after the briefest pause. "I can't stand to live on in +the house that Nancy and I built up. Every room is +haunted by her. By her happy laugh, and by memories +of the hours we sat and talked of the boy-child we'd +both set our hearts on. I just can't do it without going +stark, staring, raving mad. I can't."</p> + +<p>"That's how I figgered. I've watched it in you, Les. +Tell me the rest."</p> + + +<p>Bat chewed steadily. It was a safety-valve for his +feelings.</p> + +<p>"The rest?" Standing turned to gaze out at the +house across the water. "If it weren't for you, Bat, +I'd close right down. I'd leave everything standing +and—get out," he went on slowly. "The whole thing's +a nightmare. Look at it. Look around. The forests +of soft wood. The township we've set up. The +harnessed water power. That—that house of mine. It's +all nightmare, and I don't want it. I'm afraid. I'm +scared to death of it."</p> + +<p>Bat moved away from the stump he had been propped +against. He passed across to the edge of the ledge and +stood gazing down on the scenes below.</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry for me," he said. "It don't +matter a cuss where or how I hustle my dry hash. I +was born that way. Fix things the way you feel. Cut +me right out."</p> + +<p>The man's generosity was a simple expression of +his rugged nature. His love of that great work below +him, in the creation of which he had taken so great a +part, was nothing to him at that moment. He was +concerned only for the man, who had held out a succouring +hand, and led him, in his darkest moments, to safety +and prosperity.</p> + +<p>Standing shook his head at the broad back squared +against the grey, wintry sky.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it that way, old friend," he said.</p> + +<p>Bat swung around. His grey eyes were wide. His +face seemed to have softened out of its usual harsh cast.</p> + +<p>"But I do, Les," he cried. "You don't need to figger +a thing about me. You're hurt, boy. You're hurt +mighty sore. Cut me right out of your figgers, and +do the things that's goin' to heal that sore. If there's +a thing I can do to help you, why, I guess I'd be glad +to know it."</p> + + +<p>For a few moments Standing remained silent. +Perhaps he was pondering upon what he had to say. +Perhaps he was simply gaining time to suppress the +emotions which the selflessness of the other had inspired.</p> + +<p>"Here," he cried at last, "I best tell you the whole +story that's in my mind. I told you I've been figuring +it out. Well, it's figured to the last decimal. You +think you know me. Maybe you do. Maybe you know +only part of the things I know about myself. If you +knew them all I'd hate to think of the contempt you'd +have to hand me. You see, Bat, I'm a coward, a terrible +moral coward. Oh, I'm not scared of any man living +when it comes to a fight. But my mind's full of ghosts +and nightmares ready to jump at me with every doubt, +every new effort where I can't figure the end. Years +ago, when I was a youngster, I yearned for fortune. +And I realised that I had it in me to get it quick by +means of that crazy talent for figures you reckon is so +wonderful. I got the chance and jumped, for it. But +every step I took left me scared to the verge of craziness. +When I hit up against Hellbeam I got a desire to beat +him that was irresistible, and I jumped into the fight +with my heart in my mouth. It was easy—so easy. +Hellbeam was a babe in my hands. I could play with +him as a spider plays with its victim, and when, like a +spider, I'd bound him with my figures, hand and foot, +I was free to suck his blood till I was satiated. I did +all that, and then my nightmare descended upon me +again. You know how I fled with Hellbeam's hounds +on my heels. I was terrified at the enormity of the +thing I'd done. I could have stood my ground and +beaten him—and them. But moral cowardice overwhelmed +me and drove me to these outlands. God, +what I suffered! And after all I haven't the certainty +that I deserved it."</p> + + +<p>Bat came back to his stump and stood against it while +Standing passed a weary hand across his forehead.</p> + +<p>"The happenings since then you know as well as I +do. I don't need to talk of them. I mean, how I met +and married Nancy, when she was widow of that no-account +McDonald feller, the editor of <em>The Abercrombie +Herald!</em>"</p> + +<p>Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sure, I know, Les. When you married +Nancy an' made her thirteen-year-old daughter—your +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'd almost forgotten. Yes, there's her girl, +Nancy. She's still at school. Well, anyway, you know, +these things, all of 'em. But what you don't know is +that you—you Bat, old friend, are solely responsible +for all the work that's being done here. You, old +friend, are responsible that I've enjoyed seven years of +something approaching peace of mind. You, you with +your bulldog fighting spirit, you with your hell-may-care +manner of shouldering responsibility, and facing +every threat, have been the staunch pillar on which I +have always leant. Without you I'd have gone under +years ago, a victim of my own mental ghosts. No, no, +Bat," he went on quickly, as the lumberman shook his +head in sharp denial, "it's useless. I know. Leaning +on you I've built up around me the reality of that +original dream, with the other things I've now lost, and +with every ounce in me I've worked for its fulfilment.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the logic of it all?" he continued, after +a moment's pause. "Yes, it is the logic of it. You +may argue that for seven years I've been doing a big +work and there's no reason, in spite of what's happened, +that I should now abandon it all. But there is. And +in your strong old heart you'll know the thing I say is +true—if cowardly. During seven years, or part of +them, I've known a happiness that's compensated for + +every terror I've endured. Nancy's been my guardian +angel, and the boy, that was to be born, was the beacon +light of my life. My poor little wife has gone, and that +beacon light, the son we yearned for, has been snuffed +right out. And in the shadows left I see only the groping +hand of Hellbeam reaching out towards me. In +the end that hand will get me, and crush the remains +of my miserable life out. I know. Just as sure as God, +Hellbeam's going to get me."</p> + +<p>The sweat of terror stood on the man's high forehead, +and he wiped it away.</p> + +<p>Bat flung a clenched fist down upon the tree stump.</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, Les. You're plumb wrong. If it +means murder I swear before God Hellbeam'll never +lay hands on you. Hellbeam? Gee! Let him set his +nose north of 'fifty' and I'll promise him a welcome so +hot that'll leave hell like a glacier. As for his darn +agents? Why, say, I want to feel sorry for 'em 'fore +they start. Idepski's hating himself right—"</p> + +<p>"I know," cried Standing impatiently. "I know it +all. Everything you've said you mean, but—it won't +save me. But we can leave all that. There's the other +things. Why should I go on living here, working, +slaving, haunted by the terror of Hellbeam? With my +boy, my wife, to fight for it was worth all the agony. +But without them—why? Why in the name of sanity +should I go on? To beat the Skandinavians out of +Canada's trade, and claim it all for a country that doesn't +care a curse? To build up a great name that in the +end must be dragged in the mire of public estimation? +Not on your life, Bat. No, no. I'm going to cut +adrift. I'm going to quit. I'm going to lose myself +in these forests, and live the remaining years of my +life free to run to earth at the first shot of the hunter's +gun. It's all that's left me—as I see it."</p> + +<p>"And all this?" Bat said, reaching out one great + +hand in the direction of the Cove. "An' that school +gal 'way down at Abercrombie, learning her knitting, +an' letters, an' crying her dandy eyes out for the mother +who had to leave her there when she passed over to you? +Say, Les, you best go on. Jest go right on an' I'll say +my piece after."</p> + +<p>Standing sat up. A deep earnestness was in the dark +eyes that looked fearlessly into Bat's. He took the +other at his word and went on. He had nothing to +conceal.</p> + +<p>"The mill? Why, I want to pass it over to your +care, Bat," he said, permitting one swift regretful glance +in the direction of the grey waters below them. Then +he spoke almost feverishly. "Here's the proposition. +I'm going to hand you full powers—through Charles +Nisson. You'll run this thing on the lines laid down. +If you fancy carrying on the original proposition of +extension, well and good. If not, just carry on and +leave the rest for—later. You'll be manager for me +through Nisson. I shan't remove one cent of capital. +I don't want Hellbeam's money beyond the barest grub +stake. It'll remain under Nisson's guardianship for your +use in running this mill. You'll simply satisfy Nisson. +For the rest I shan't interfere. You're drawing a big +salary now. Well, seeing I go out of the work, that +salary will be doubled. That's for the immediate. Then +there's the future. I've a notion. Maybe it's a crazy +notion. But it's mine and I mean to test it. Here. +We reckon to build up this enterprise for one great, +big purpose. It was my dream to break the Skandinavian +ring governing the groundwood trade of this +country. It was work that appealed to my imagination. +I wanted to build this great thing and pass it on to my +boy. It seemed to me fine. Worth while. It was a +man's work, and it seemed to me a life well spent. I +had the guts then—with your support, and the support + +the thought of my son gave me. I haven't the guts +now. The notion fired you, too. It fired you, and +it'll grieve you desperately to see it abandoned. It shan't +be abandoned. Once in the woods of this queer country +I found a man—such a man as is rarely found. He +was a man into whose hands I could put my life. And +I guess there's no greater trust one man can have in +another. He was a man of immense capacity. A man +of intellect for all he had no schooling but the schooling +of Quebec's rough woods. That man was you, Bat. +I'd like to say to you: 'Here's the property. You know +the scheme. Go on. Carry it through.' But I can't. +I can't because one man can't do it. Well, the woods +gave me one man, and they're going to give me another +to take the place of the weak-gutted creature who intends +to 'rat.' I'm going to find you a partner, a man with +brain and force like yourself. A man of iron guts. +And when I've found him I'm going to send him on +to you. And if you approve him he shall be full partner +with you in this concern the day that sees the Canadian +Groundwood Trust completed, and the breaking of the +Skandinavian ring. Do you follow it all? You and +this man will be equal partners in the mill, and every +available cent of its capital—the capital I made Hellbeam +provide. It'll be yours and his, solely and alone. +I—I shall pass right out of it. Hellbeam has no score +against you. He has no penitentiary preparing for you. +You are not concerned with him. Whatever he may +have in store for me he can do nothing to you, and the +money I beat him out of will have passed beyond his +reach."</p> + +<p>"And this man you figger to locate? You reckon +to take a chance on your judgment?"</p> + +<p>Bat's challenge came on the instant.</p> + +<p>"On mine, and—yours." Standing's eyes were full +of a keen confidence. And Bat realised something of + +the sanity lying behind a seemingly mad proposition. +"He'll own nothing until he and you have completed +the work as we see it. To own his share in the thing +he must prove his capacity. He'll be held by the tightest +and strongest contract Charles Nisson can draw up."</p> + +<p>Bat spat out his chew. He replaced it with a pipe, +and prepared to flake off its filling from a plug of +tobacco. Standing watched him with the anxious eyes +of a prisoner awaiting sentence. With the cutting of +the first flakes of tobacco, Bat looked up.</p> + +<p>"And this little gal-child, with the same name as the +mother who just meant the whole of everything life +could hand you? This kiddie with her mother's blood +running in innocent veins? She's your Nancy's daughter +and I guess your marriage made her yours."</p> + +<p>"She's another man's child."</p> + +<p>Standing's retort was instant. And the tone of it +cut like a knife.</p> + +<p>Bat regarded him keenly. His knife had ceased from +its work on the plug.</p> + +<p>"That's so," he said after a while. Then his gaze +drifted in the direction of the house across the water, +and the expression in the grey depths of his eyes became +lost to the man who could not forget that the remaining +child of his wife was the offspring of another man. +"It seems queer," he went on reflectively. "That +woman, your Nancy, was about the best loved wife, a +fellow could think of. She was all sorts of a woman +to you. Guess she was mostly the sun, moon, an' stars +of your life. Yet her kiddie, a pore, lonesome kiddie, +was toted right off to school so she couldn't butt in on +you. You've never seen her, have you? And she was +blood of the woman that set you nigh crazy. Only her +father was another feller. No, Les." He shook his +head, and went on filling his pipe. "No, Les, this mill +and all about it can go hang if that pore, lone kiddie + +is wiped out of your reckoning. Maybe I'm queer about +things. Maybe I'm no account anyway when it comes +to the things of life mostly belonging to Sunday School. +But I'd as lief go back to the woods I came from, as +handle a proposition for you that don't figger that little +gal in it. You best take that as all I've to say. There's +a heap more I could say. But it don't matter. You're +feelin' bad. Things have hit you bad. And you reckon +they're going to hit you worse. Maybe you're right. +Maybe you're wrong. Anyway these things are for +you, though I'd be mighty thankful to help you. You +want to go out of it all. You want to follow up some +queer notion you got. You reckon it's going to give +you peace. I hope so. I do sure. The thing you've +said goes with me without shouting one way or the +other. It grieves me bad. But that's no account anyway. +But there's that gal standing between us, and +she's going to stand right there till you've finished the +things you're maybe going to say."</p> + +<p>For a moment the men looked into each other's eyes. +It was a tense moment of sudden crisis between them.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Bat's unyielding interrogation came sharply. Standing +nodded.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought, Bat," he said. Then he drew a +deep breath. "I surely hadn't, but I guess you're right. +She's my stepdaughter. And I've a right to do the +thing you say. Yes. It's queer when I think of it," +he went on musingly. "When I married her mother +the girl didn't seem to come into our reckoning. She +was at school, and I never even saw her. Then her +mother wanted her left there, anyway till her schooling +was through. Everything was paid. I saw to that. But—yes, +I guess you're right. It's up to me, and I'll fix it."</p> + +<p>"The mill?"</p> + +<p>"She shall have equal share when the time comes."</p> + + +<p>"When the whole work's put through?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And meanwhile she'll be amply provided for." +Standing spread out his hands deprecatingly. "You see, +we did things in a hurry, Bat. There was always Hellbeam. +And my Nancy understood that. I wonder—"</p> + +<p>Bat smoked on thoughtfully, and presently the other +roused himself from the pre-occupation into which he +had fallen.</p> + +<p>"Does that satisfy?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll do the darnedest I know, Les," he said in his +sturdy fashion. Fix that pore gal right. Hand her +the share she's a right to—when the time comes along. +Do that an' I'll not rest till the Skandinavians are left +hollerin'. That kid's your daughter, for all she ain't +flesh and blood of yours, an' you ain't ever see her. +And anyway she's flesh of your Nancy, which seems +to me hands her even a bigger claim."</p> + +<p>He moved away from his leaning post and his back was +turned to hide that which looked out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm grieved," he went on, in his simple fashion, +"I'm so grieved about things I can't tell you, Les. I +always guessed to drive this thing through with you. I +always reckoned to make good to you for that thing you +did by me. Well, there's no use in talkin'. You reckon +this notion of yours'll make you feel better, it's goin' +to hand you—peace. That goes with me. Oh, yes, all +the time, seein' you feel that way. But—say, we best +get right home—or I'll cry like a darn-fool kid."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_7"></a> +<h3>Chapter V—Nancy Mcdonald</h3> + + +<p>Charles Nisson was standing at the window. His eyes +were deeply reflective as he watched the gently falling + +snow outside. He was a sturdy creature in his well-cut, +well-cared-for black suit. For all he was past middle +life there was little about him to emphasise the fact +unless it were his trim, well-brushed snow-white hair, +and the light covering of whisker and beard of a similar +hue. He looked to be full of strength of purpose and +physical energy.</p> + +<p>His back was turned on the pleasant dining-room of his +home in Abercrombie, a remote town in Ontario, where he +and his wife had only just finished breakfast. Sarah +Nisson was sitting beside the anthracite stove which +radiated its pleasant warmth against the bitter chill of +winter reigning outside. She was still consuming the +pages of her bulky mail.</p> + +<p>A clock chimed the hour, and the wife looked up from +her letter. She turned a face that was still pretty for all +her fifty odd years, in the direction of the man at the +window.</p> + +<p>"Ten o'clock, Charles," she reminded him. Then her +enquiring look melted into a gentle smile. "The office +has less attraction with the snow falling."</p> + +<p>"It has less attraction to-day, anyway," the lawyer +responded without turning. A short laugh punctuated +his prompt reply.</p> + +<p>"You mean the Nancy McDonald business?"</p> + +<p>Sarah Nisson laid her mail aside.</p> + +<p>"Yes." The lawyer sighed and turned from his +contemplation of the snow. He moved across to the +stove. "I'm a bit of a coward, Sally," he went on, +holding out his hands to the warmth. "The lives of +other people are nearly as interesting as they are exasperating. +They seem just as foolishly ordered as we +believe our own to be well and truly ordered. I don't +know who it was said 'all men are fools,' or liars, or +something, but I guess he was right. Yes, we're all +fools. I really don't know how we manage to get through + +a day, let alone a lifetime, without absolute disaster. +We spend most of our time abusing Providence for the +result of our own shortcomings, when really we ought to +be mighty polite and thankful to the blind good fortune +that lets us dodge the results of our follies."</p> + +<p>"All of which I suppose has to do with the way Leslie +Martin, or Leslie Standing, as he calls himself now, is +acting."</p> + +<p>"Well, most of it."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes had become seriously reflective again.</p> + +<p>Sarah Nisson nodded her pretty head. She leant her +ample proportions towards the stove and emulated her +husband's attitude, warming her plump hands. Her brown +eyes were twinkling, and her broad, unlined brow was +calmly serene. Her iron-grey hair was as carefully +dressed as though she were still in the twenties, moreover +it was utterly untouched by any of the shams so beloved +of the modern woman of advancing years.</p> + +<p>"The death of his poor wife almost seems to have +unhinged him," she said, with a troubled pucker of her +brows. "But—but I don't wonder, I really don't. She +was the sweetest girl. Poor soul. And that bonny wee +boy. But there, I can't bear to think of it all. You +mustn't blame him too much, Charles. I guess you don't +in your heart. It's just as his attorney you feel mad +about things. It's best to remember you were his friend +first, and only his adviser, and man of business, after. +The whole thing makes me feel I want to cry. And that +poor girl coming to see you to-day. The other Nancy, I +mean. I don't think I'd feel so bad about things if it +wasn't for her. You know, I like Leslie. And I was as +fond of his wife as I just could be, for all she made a fool +of herself when she married that hateful James McDonald, +who was no better than a revolutionary. Thank goodness +he died and got out before he could do any harm. +But I do think Leslie and poor Nancy were selfish about + +her child. I don't believe it was so much him as Nancy. +From the moment Leslie came on the scene it was she +who kept the poor child at college. She never even let +him see her. And she's such a bonny girl, too. Do you +know, I believe Nancy's death, and even the death of the +baby boy, wouldn't have meant half so much to Leslie +if he'd had Nancy's own girl with him. She'd have got +herself right into his heart with her bonny ways, and her +hazel eyes that look like great, big smiling flowers. Then +her hair. She's a lovely, lovely child. I wish she was +mine. I'd like to have her right here always. Couldn't +you fix it that way?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to—but—"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"You see there's a whole lot to think about," the +lawyer went on seriously. "Why, I don't even know +how to get through my interview with her to-day without +lying to her like a politician. Now just get a look at the +position. Here's a girl, a beautiful, high-spirited girl of +sixteen, straight out from college, at the beginning of +life, with her, head full of 'whys,' and 'wherefores.' + +Sixteen's well-nigh grown up these days, mind you. Her +mother's dead, and curiously the fact didn't seem to +break her up as you'd have expected it to. Why?" The +man shrugged. "It's not because she lacks feeling. Oh, +no. Maybe it's because of the strength of those feelings. +Remember her mother married Leslie when the child was +thirteen. A good understanding age. She was never +allowed to see her father. No. She was packed off to +school and kept there—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," Sarah broke in, with impatient warmth. +"And just at the time a girl most needs she never even +saw her mother for over three years. God doesn't give us +women our babies to treat them as if they weren't our +own flesh and blood. Young Nancy was left to those + +maiden dames at college, who don't know more about +a child than is laid down by highbrow officials in the +text books they need to study to qualify for their posts. +They haven't a notion beyond stuffing her poor wee +head with the sort of view of life set down in fool +history books. They say she's clever and bright. Well, +that's all they care about. When they've done with her +they'll have knocked all the girl out of her, and turned +her adrift on the world behind a pair of disfiguring +spectacles, with her beautiful hair all scratched back off +her pretty face, and maybe 'bobbed,' and they'll fill +her grips with pamphlets and literature enough to stock +a patent med'cine factory, instead of the lawn, and lace, +and silk a girl should think about, and leave her with as +much chance of getting happily married as a queen +mummy of the Egyptians. It's a shame, just a real +shame. Why, if that poor, lonesome child came right +along to me, I'd—"</p> + +<p>"Teach her all the bright tricks of hunting down a +husband and—hooking him." The lawyer shook his +head and smiled. "You know, Sally, you're almost an +outrage on the subject of marriage. Sometimes I wonder +the sort of tricks I was up against when I—"</p> + +<p>A plump warning finger and smiling threat interrupted +the laughing charge.</p> + +<p>"You were due at the office long ago, Charles," his +wife admonished. "If you aren't careful I'll have to +pack you off right away."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Sally," the man demurred. "I +won't go further with that. I'll get back to the things I +was saying before you interrupted." His pale blue eyes +became serious again. "Do you think Nancy didn't +understand why she was packed off to school—and kept +there? Of course she did. She knew she wasn't +wanted. She knew she was in the way. She must not +be permitted to intrude on this stepfather, or her mother's + +new life. It was all a bit heartless, and if I know anything +of the child, she understands it that way. I felt +that when she came to see her mother, and went to her +funeral. Now then, Nancy's coming to see me to-day. +Remember she's sixteen. She's got to learn from me the +settlement Leslie's made on her. She's got to learn +further that she isn't likely to ever see her stepfather. +She knows I'm his business man. She knows I'm his +friend. Well, when she's financially independent, do you +think she'll feel like rushing into our arms, here, for a +home, feeling the way I believe she does about her +parent? It's going to be difficult, and—damned unpleasant. +And for all I'm ready to help Leslie anyway +I know, I'd rather see anybody on his behalf than that +kiddie, with her wide, honest, angry eyes and red hair. +I'm not going to press our home on her, Sally, because, +sooner or later, if she accepted it, which I don't believe +she would, she'd have to learn things of Leslie, and—well, +the affairs you know about. That must not be. She's +not going to learn these things from us. I'm going to do +the best I know for the child, and when it comes to the +matter of a home she must choose for herself. There's +always her mother's folk, or even James McDonald's +folk—"</p> + +<p>"God forbid! No. Oh, no." The woman's instant +denial was horrified. "Not the McDonald lot. They're +all revolutionaries. All of them. It's—it's unthinkable. +It certainly is."</p> + +<p>The man moved away.</p> + +<p>"That's so," he agreed. "Well, anyway, I'll do the +best I know for the child, Sally. You can trust me."</p> + +<p>The woman's anxiety abated, and she rose from her +chair.</p> + +<p>"I know that, Charles," she said. "But the McDonalds! +They're—"</p> + +<p>"Sure they are." The man laughed. "Well, good-bye, + +my dear. I'll tell you all about it when I've fixed things. +Thank goodness it's quit snowing and the sun's shining +again. I wish I felt as good as it looks outside here."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Charles Nisson had become a lawyer without any +marked inclination or enthusiasm for his profession. It +had been simply a matter of following the father before +him. It would have been much the same if his father +had been a farmer, or a politician, or anything else. The +son was patient, temperate, and of no great ambition. +But he was also keenly intelligent. Without impulse, +or striking originality, but with a tremendous capacity +for hard work, he was bound to be moderately successful +in any career. In his father's profession his temperament +was particularly suited, and in spite of lacking +enthusiasm he had become unquestionably a better lawyer +than the country attorney he had succeeded.</p> + +<p>Just now his mind was filled with unease. The matter +of his forthcoming interview with a child of sixteen years +had only small place in the affairs which disturbed him. +His real concern was for his friend, Leslie Standing, and +the disaster, which, in a seemingly overwhelming rush +had befallen at far-off Sachigo. Again his trouble had +no relation to these things as they affected his own +worldly affairs. It was of the man himself he was thinking.</p> + +<p>He knew it all now. He had painfully learned the +complete story of disaster. And, to his sturdy mind, it +was a deplorable example of almost unbelievable human +weakness.</p> + +<p>Standing had conveyed his final determination to +abandon his Labrador enterprise in the correspondence +which had passed between them during the three months +which had elapsed since the funeral of his wife and stillborn +child. And during that time their friendship had + +been sorely tested. There had been times when the +lawyer's native patience had been unequal to the strain. +There had been times when his temper had leapt from +under the bonds which so strongly held it. But for all +the ordeals of that prolonged correspondence, for all he +deplored the pitiful weakness in the other, his friendship +remained, and he finally accepted his instructions. But +the whole thing left him very troubled.</p> + +<p>As the hour of noon approached, his trouble showed no +sign of abatement. It was the reverse. There were +moments, as he sat in the generously upholstered chair +before his desk, in the comfortable down-town office +which overlooked Abercrombie's principal thoroughfare, +that he felt like abandoning all responsibility in the chaos +of his friend's affairs. But this was only the result of +irritation, and had no relation to his intentions. He +knew well enough that everything in his power would +be done for the man who never so surely needed his help +as now.</p> + +<p>He refreshed his memory with the details of the deed +of settlement for the abandoned stepdaughter. Then, as +the hands of the clock approached the hour of his appointment, +he sat back yielding his whole concentration upon +those many problems confronting him.</p> + +<p>What, he asked himself, was going to become of +Standing now that he had cut himself adrift from that +anchorage which had held him safe for the past seven +years? He strove to follow the driving of the man's +curiously haunted mind. He had declared his intention +of going away. Where? Definite information had been +withheld. He was going to devote himself to some purpose +he claimed to have always lain at the back of his +mind. What was that purpose? Again there had been +no information forthcoming. Was it good, or—bad? +The man who was endeavouring to solve the riddle of it +all dared not trust himself to a decision. He felt that + +his friend's unstable soul might drive him in almost any +direction after the shock it had sustained.</p> + +<p>No. Speculation was useless. The crude facts were +like a brick wall he had to face. Standing's wealth and +the great mill at Sachigo were left to his administration +with the trusting confidence of a child. The responsibility +for the neglected stepdaughter had similarly been +flung upon his shoulders. And, satisfied with this manner +of disposing of his worldly concerns, Standing intended to +fare forth, shorn of any possession but a bare pittance +for his daily needs, to lose himself, and all the shadows +of a haunted mind, in the dim, remote interior of the +unexplored forests of Northern Quebec. The whole +thing was mad—utterly—</p> + +<p>The muffled electric bell on his table drubbed out its +summons. One swift glance at the clock and the lawyer +yielded to professional instinct. He became absorbed in +the papers neatly spread out on his table as a bespectacled +clerk thrust open the door.</p> + +<p>"Miss McDonald to see you," he announced, in the +modulated tone which was part of his professional make-up.</p> + +<p>The lawyer rose at once. He moved toward the door +with a smiling welcome. The sex and personality of his +visitor demanded this departure from his custom.</p> + +<p>Nancy McDonald stood just inside the doorway +through which the clerk had departed. She was tall, +beautifully tall, for all she was only sixteen. In her simple +college girl's overcoat, with its muffling of fur about the +neck, it was impossible to detect the graces of the youthful +figure concealed. Her carriage was upright, and her +bearing full of that confidence which is so earnestly +taught in the schools of the newer countries.</p> + +<p>But these things passed unnoticed by the white-haired +lawyer. He was smiling into the radiant face under the +low-pressed fur cap. It was the wide, hazel eyes, so + +deeply fringed with a wealth of curling, dark lashes, that +inspired his smiling interest. It was the level brows, so +delicately pencilled, and dark as were the eyelashes. +It was the perfect nose, and lips, and chin, and the +chiselled beauty of oval cheeks, all in such classic harmony +with the girl's wealth of vivid hair.</p> + +<p>Nancy returned his gaze without the shadow of a +smile. She had come at this man's call from the coldly +correct halls of Marypoint College, which was also the +soulless home she had been condemned to for the three +or four most impressionable years of her life. And she +knew the purpose of the summons.</p> + +<p>There was a deep abiding resentment in her heart. It +was not against this man or his wife. From these two +she had received only kindness and affection. It was +directed against the stepfather whom she believed to +be the cause of the banishment she had had to endure. +Furthermore, she could never forget that her banishment +was only terminated that she might gaze at last upon the +dead features of her dearly loved mother before the cold +earth hid them from view forever.</p> + +<p>The lawyer understood. He had understood from her +reply to his letter summoning her. There was no need +for the confirmation he read now in her unsmiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"You sent for me?" she said.</p> + +<p>Nancy's voice was deep and rich for all her youth. +Then with a display of some slight confusion, she suddenly +realised the welcoming hand outheld. She took +it hurriedly, and the brief hand clasp completely broke +down the barrier she had deliberately set up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a shame, Uncle Charles," she cried, almost +tearfully. "It's—it's a shame. I know. I'm just a kid—a +fool kid who hasn't a notion, or a feeling, or—or +anything. I'm to be treated that way. When he says + +'listen,' why, I've just got to listen. And when he says +'obey,' I've got to obey, because the law says he's + +my stepfather. He's robbed me of my mother. Oh, +it's cruel. Now he's going to rob me of everything else I +s'pose. Who is he? What is he that he has the power +to—to make me a sort of slave to his wishes? I've never +seen him. I hate him, and he hates me, and yet—oh—I'm +kind of sorry," she said, in swift contrition at the +sight of the old man's evident distress. "I—I—didn't +think. I—oh, I know it's not your fault, uncle. It's +just nothing to do with you. You've always been so +kind and good to me—you and Aunt Sally. You've +got to send for me and tell me the things he says, because—"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm his 'hired man.' But also because I'm +his friend."</p> + +<p>The lawyer spoke kindly, but very firmly. He knew +the impulsive nature of this passionate child. He knew +her unusual mentality. He realised, none better, that +he was dealing with a strong woman's mind in a girl of +childhood's years. He knew that Nancy had inherited +largely from her father, that headstrong, headlong +creature whose mentality had driven him to every length +in a wild endeavour to upset civilisation that he might +witness the birth of a millennium in the ashes of a world +saturated with the blood of countless, helpless creatures. +So he checked the impulsive flow of the child's protest. +He held out his hands.</p> + +<p>"You'd best let me take your coat, my dear," he said, +with a smile the girl found it impossible to resist. "Maybe +you'd like to remove your overshoes, too. There's a big +talk to make, and I want to get things fixed so you can +come right along up home and take food with us before +you go back to Marypoint."</p> + +<p>The child capitulated. But she needed no assistance. +Her coat was removed in a moment and flung across a +chair, and she stood before him, the slim, slightly angular +schoolgirl she really was.</p> + + +<p>"Guess I'll keep my rubbers on," she said. Then she +added with a laugh which a moment before must have +been impossible. "That way I'll feel I can run away when +I want to. What next?"</p> + +<p>"Why, just sit right here."</p> + +<p>The lawyer drew up a chair and set it beside his desk. +His movements were swift now. He had no desire to +lose the girl's change of mood.</p> + +<p>And Nancy submitted. She took the chair set for her +while the man she loved to call "Uncle Charlie" passed +round to his. He gave her no time for further reflection, +but plunged into his talk at once.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear," he said earnestly, "you came here +feeling pretty bad about things, and maybe I don't +blame you. But there isn't the sort of thing waiting on +you you're guessing. Before we get to the real business +I just want to tell you the things in my mind. Of course, +as you say, you're a 'kid' yet—a school-kid, eh? That's +all right. But I know you can get a grip of things that +many much older girls could never hope to. That's why +I want to tell you the things I'm going to. Now you've +worked it out in your mind that your stepfather is just a +heartless, selfish creature who has no sort of use for you, +and just wants to forget your existence. He married +your mother, but had no idea of taking on her burdens—that's +you. It isn't so. It wasn't so. I know, because +this man is my friend, and I know all there is to know +about him. The whole thing has been deplorable. +You've been the victim of circumstances that I may not +explain even to you. But I promise you this, your stepfather +is not the man to have desired to cut you out of +your mother's life."</p> + +<p>"Who did then? Mother?"</p> + +<p>The girl's beautiful face flushed under her stirring +emotions. The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Circumstances. Yes, those circumstances I told + +you of. Those circumstances I can't explain." Charles +Nisson picked up a typescript and held it out to the child.</p> + +<p>"I want you to take this. It's not the deed, but a +true copy. I want you to read it over and think about it, +and when you get back to Marypoint, and feel like talking +to those teachers you trust there, you can tell them what +it contains, and hear what they have to say about it, and +see if they won't think better of your stepfather than +you do. You needn't read it now," as the girl turned +the pages and glanced down the confusion of legal +phraseology. "I'm going to tell you what it contains in +plain words. But I want you to have it, and read it, +and think over it, because I want you to try and get a +real understanding of the man whose signature is set to +the original deed."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he went on, meditatively, and in a tone of real +regret. "I'd be pretty glad to have you think better of +him. I think just now he needs the kind thought of anyone +who belongs to him. He's in pretty bad trouble—someways."</p> + +<p>The girl looked up. A curious anxiety was shining in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" she demanded. "You mean he's done +wrong? What d'you mean? What sort of—trouble?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No. It's not that. It's—your mother. You know, +Nancy, he loved your mother in a way that leaves a good +man broken to pieces when he loses the object of his love. +Every good thought he ever had was bound up in your +mother. And your mother was his strong support, and +literally his guiding star. You've lost your mother. You +know how you felt. Well, I can't tell you, but think, +try and think what it would be if you'd lost just every +hope in life, too—the same as he has."</p> + +<p>"I'd—I'd want to die," the girl cried impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Yes. So would anyone. So does he. Just as far + +as the world's concerned he's dead now. You'll never +see him, or hear from him. Nor will anyone else—except +me. He'll never come into your life after this. +He'll never claim his legal guardianship of you, beyond +that document. To you he's dead, leaving you heir to +what is contained in that deed. He's just a poor devil of +a man hunted and haunted through the rest of his existence +by the memory of a love that was more than life +to him. Try and think better of him, Nancy, my dear. +He's got enough to bear. I think he deserves far better +than he's ever likely to get handed to him. I tell you +solemnly, my dear, whatever sins he may have committed, +and most of us have committed plenty," he added, with a +gentle smile, "he's done you no real hurt. And now he's +only doing that good by you I would expect from him."</p> + +<p>Nancy sighed deeply, and it needed no words of hers +to tell the man of law how well he had fought his friend's +battle. A deep wave of childish pity had swept away +the last of a resentment which had seemed so bitter, so +implacable. It was the generous heart of the child, +shorn, for the moment, of its inheritance from her father. +Her even brows had puckered, and the man knew that +tears, real tears of sympathy, were not far off.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said, in a low voice. "Tell me some +more."</p> + +<p>But the man shook his head. "I can't tell you more," +he said gently. "Where your stepfather is, or where he +will be to-morrow, I may not tell you. Even when your +mother was alive you were not permitted to know these +things. That was due to the 'circumstances' I told you +of. It just remains for me to tell you the contents of +that document. They're as generous as only your stepfather +knows how to make them. He's appointed me +your trustee. And he's settled on you a life annuity of +$10,000. There are a few simple conditions. You will +remain at college till your education is complete, and, + +until you are twenty-one I shall have control of your +income. That is," he explained, "I shall see that you +don't handle it recklessly. During that time, subject +to my approval, you can make your home with whom +you like. After you've passed your twenty-first birthday +you are as free as air to go or come, to live where you +choose, and how you choose. And your income will be +forthcoming from this office—every quarter. Do you +understand all that, my dear? It's so very simple. +Your stepfather has gone to the limit to show you how +well he desires for you, and how free of his authority he +wants you to be. There is another generous act of his +that will be made clear to you when the time comes. +But that is for the future—not now. His last word to +me," he went on, picking up a letter, "when he sent me +the deed duly signed, was: 'Tell this little girl when you +hand her these things, it isn't my wish to trouble her +with an authority which can have little enough appeal +for her. Tell her that her mother was my whole world, +and it is my earnest desire that her daughter should +have all the good and comfort this world can bestow. If +ever she needs further help she can have it without question, +and that she only has to appeal to my friend and adviser, +Charles Nisson, for anything she requires.'"</p> + +<p>The man laid the letter aside and looked up.</p> + +<p>"That's the last paragraph of the last communication +I had from him. And they're not the words of a monstrous +tyrant who is utterly heartless, eh?"</p> + +<p>The girl made no answer. Her emotion was too strong +for her. Two great tears rolled slowly down her beautiful +cheeks.</p> + +<p>The lawyer rose from his chair. He came round the +desk and laid a gentle hand on the heaving shoulder, +while Nancy strove to wipe her tears away with a wholly +inadequate handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"That's right, my dear," he said very gently. "Wipe + +them away. There's no need to cry. Leslie's done all +a man in his peculiar position can do for you. You've +got the whole wide world before you, and everything you +can need for comfort—thanks to him. Now let's forget +about it all. Just take that paper back to school with you. +And maybe you'll write, or come and let me know what +you think about it. If you feel like making your home +with us, why, that way you'll just complete our happiness. +If you feel like going to your mother's sister, Anna +Scholes, I shan't refuse you. Anyway, think about it +all. That's my big talk and it's finished. Just get your +overcoat on, and we'll get right along home to food."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_8"></a> +<h3>Chapter VI—Nathaniel Hellbeam</h3> + + +<p>The room was furnished with extreme modern luxury. +The man standing over against the window with his +broad back turned, somehow looked to be in perfect +keeping with the setting his personal tastes had inspired. +He was broad, squat, fat. His head and neck were set +low upon his shoulders, and the hair oil was obvious on +the longish dark hair which seemed to grow low down +under his shirt collar.</p> + +<p>The other man, seated in one of the many easy chairs, +was in strong contrast. His was the familiar face of the +agent, Idepski, dark, keen, watchful. He was smoking +the cigarette to which he had helped himself from the +gold box standing near him on the ornate desk.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have made a bad mess of things."</p> + +<p>Nathaniel Hellbeam turned from the window and came +back to his desk with quick, short, energetic strides.</p> + +<p>He presented a picture of inflamed wrath. His fleshy, +square face was flushed and almost purple. His small +eyes were hot with anger. They snapped as he launched + +his harshly spoken verdict. His whole manner bristled +with merciless intolerance.</p> + +<p>He was enormously fat, and breathed heavily through +clean shaven lips that protruded sensually. His age +was doubtful, but suggested something under middle +life. It was the gross bulk of the man that made it almost +impossible to estimate closely. The only real youth +about him was his dark, well oiled hair which possessed +not a sign of greying in it.</p> + +<p>He flung himself into the wide chair which gaped to +receive him, and glared at the dark face of his visitor.</p> + +<p>"What in the hell do I pay you for?" he cried brutally, +lapsing, in his anger, into that gutteral Teutonic accent +which it was his life's object to avoid. "A wild cat's +scheme it was I tell you from the first. You go to this +Sachigo with your men. You think to get this 'sharp' + +asleep, or what? You find him wide awake waiting for +you to arrive. What then? He jumps quick. So quick +you can't think. You a prisoner are. You go where +he sends you. You live like a swine in the woods. You +are made to work for your food. And a year is gone. +A year! Serve you darn right. Oh, yes. Bah! You +quit. You understand? I pay you no more. You are +a fool, a blundering fool. I wash my hands with you."</p> + +<p>Idepski sat still, patient, as once before he had sat +under the whip lash of a man's tongue. And he continued +smoking till the great banker's last word was spoken.</p> + +<p>Then he stirred, and removed his cigarette from his +thin lips.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Mr. Hellbeam," he said coldly. +"It seems like you've a right to all you've said. It +seems, I said. But the 'fool' talk." He shook his +head. "My best enemies don't reckon me that—generally. +The game I'm playing has room enough for things +that look like blunders. I allow that. It doesn't matter. +You see, I know more of this feller Martin maybe than + +you do. I guess he's a mighty big coward, except when +he's got the drop on a feller. I've given him the scare +of a lifetime, and I've unshipped him from his safe +anchorage on that darn Labrador coast. Do you know +what's happened? I'll tell you. He's quit Sachigo. +From what I can learn he's sold out his mill to that +uncouth hoodlum, Harker, who was sort of his partner, +and quit. Where? I don't know yet. Why has he +quit? Why, because he knows we've located his hiding, +and will get him if he remains. You reckon I've mussed +things up." He shook his head. "He was well-nigh safe +up there on Labrador—and I knew it. We had to get +him out of it. Well, I've got him out. He's bolted like +a gopher, and it's up to me to locate him. I shall locate +him. I'm glad he's quit that hellish country. I've had +a year of it, and it's put the fear of God into me. You +needn't worry. I'm quite ready to quit your pay. But +I'm going on with this thing, sure. You see, I owe him +quite a piece for myself—now. I've been through the +hell he intended me to go through when he sent me along +up to be held prisoner by that skunk, Ole Porson. I'm +going to pay him for that—good. I don't want your +pay—now. One day I'll hand that feller over to you—and +when you've doped him plenty—you'll have paid +me." He rose leisurely from his comfortable chair. +"May I take another of your good cigarettes?" he went +on, with a half smile in his cold eyes. "You see, I won't +get another, seeing I'm quitting you."</p> + +<p>He deliberately helped himself without waiting for +permission, while his eyes dwelt on the gold box containing +them.</p> + +<p>But the financier's mood had changed. The keen +mind was busy behind his narrow eyes. Perhaps Idepski +understood the man. Perhaps the coolness of the agent +appealed to the implacable nature of the Swede. Whatever +it was the hot eyes had cooled, and the fleshy cheeks + +had returned to their normal pasty hue. He raised a +hand pointing.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and smoke all you need," he said, in the +sharp, autocratic fashion that was his habit. "We aren't +through yet." Then, for a few moments, he regarded +the slim figure as it lay back once more in the armchair. +"Say," he began, abruptly, "you reckon to go on for—yourself? +Yes? You're a good hater."</p> + +<p>He went on as the other inclined his head.</p> + +<p>"I like a good hater. Yes. Well, just cut out all I +said. We'll go on. I guess you'll need to blunder some +before we get this swine. You're bound to. But I want +him. I want him bad. If it's good for you to go on for +yourself, that's good for me. There's a lifetime ahead +yet, and I don't care so I see him down—right down +where I need him. Maybe I won't get the money, but +we'll get him, and that'll do. Yes, cut out what I said, +and go ahead. Tell me about it."</p> + +<p>Idepski displayed neither enthusiasm nor added +interest. He accepted the position with seeming indifference. +Hellbeam to him was just an employer. A +means to those ends which he had in view. If Hellbeam +turned him down it would mean a setback, but not +a disaster, and Idepski appraised setbacks at their +simple value, without exaggeration. Besides, he knew +that this Swede, powerful, wealthy as he was, could not +afford to do without him in this matter. His intolerant, +hectic temper mattered nothing at all. He paid for the +privilege of its display, and he paid well. So—</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to tell," the agent returned, +with a shrug. "I'm going to get him—that's all. See +here, Mr. Hellbeam," he went on after a pause, with a +sudden change to keen energy, "you're a mighty big +power in the financial world, and to be that I guess +you've had to be some judge of the other feller. That's +so. You most generally know when he's beat before + +you begin. And when he squeals it don't come as a +surprise. Well, that's how it is with me, only it's a +bigger thing to me because it sometimes happens to mean +the difference between life and death. Say, when you +put up your bluff at a feller, and watch him square in the +eyes, and you see 'em flicker and shift, do you reckon +you've lit on the 'yellow streak,' that lies somewhere +in most folk? I guess so. Well, that's how I know +my man. I've seen it in this bum, Leslie Standing as +he calls himself now. And when I saw it I knew he was +beat, for all he'd the drop on me. Since then my +notion's proved itself. He's lit out. He's cut from his +gopher hole at Sachigo. An' when a gopher gets away +from his hole, the man with the gun has him dead set. +But say, that muss up you reckon I made doesn't look +that way when you know the things it's taught me. +While I was way up at that penitentiary camp on the +Beaver River I kept all my ears and eyes wide, and I +learned most of the things a feller's liable to learn in +this world when he acts that way. I learned something +of the notions lying back of this feller's work up there. +Say, he hadn't finished with you when he took that ten +millions out of you." An ironical smile lit the man's +dark eyes as he thrust home his retaliation for the financier's +insults. "Not by a lot," he went on, with a +smiling display of teeth that conveyed nothing pleasant. +"They've a slogan up there that means a whole heap, +and it comes from him, and runs through the whole +work going on, right down to the Chink camp cooks. +Guess that mill is only beginning. It's the ground work +of a mighty big notion. And the notion is to drive the +Skandinavians out of Canada's pulp trade, and very particularly +the Swedes, as represented by the interests of +Nathaniel Hellbeam. Guess you sit right here in New +York, but up there they've got you measured up to the +last pant's button."</p> + + +<p>"They that think?"</p> + +<p>The financier's bloated cheeks purpled as he put his +clumsy interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. This feller Standing reckons he's made a +big start, and there are mighty big plans out. When he +and that clownish partner of his, Harker, are through, +Sachigo'll be the biggest proposition in the way of groundwood +pulp in the world. They've forests such as you in +Skandinavia dream about when your digestion's feeling +good. They've a water power that leaves Niagara a +summer trickle. They've got it all with a sea journey of +less than eighteen hundred miles to Europe. But there's +more than that. When Sachigo's complete it's to be the +parent company of a mighty combine that's going to +take in all the mills of Canada outside Nathaniel Hellbeam's +group. And then—then, sir, the squeeze'll start +right in. And it isn't going to stop till the sponge—that's +Nathaniel Hellbeam—is wrung dry."</p> + +<p>"You heard all this—when you were held prisoner and +working like a swine in Martin's forests?"</p> + +<p>The smile in Hellbeam's eyes was no less ironical than +the agent's.</p> + +<p>"When I was working like a swine."</p> + +<p>"These lumber-jacks. They knew all that in Standing's +mind is?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I learned it all."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>The demand was instant, and a surge of force lay +behind it.</p> + +<p>"Because some I saw. Some I picked up from general +talk. And the rest I pieced together because it's my job +to think hard when the game's against me. But it don't +matter. You know that the things I've told you are +right. It's news to you, but you know it's right, +because you're thinking hard, and the game's against—you."</p> + + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The financier's admission was the act of a man who has +no hesitation in looking facts in the face and acknowledging +them. Idepski's deductions were irrefutable, because +the Swede was a shrewd business man with a full +appreciation of the man who had lightened his finances +by ten million dollars.</p> + +<p>For some moments the fleshy face was turned towards +the window which yielded the hum of busy traffic many +stories below them. His narrow eyes were earnestly +reflective, but there was no concern in them. To the waiting +man he was simply measuring the threat against him, +and probing its possibilities for mischief.</p> + +<p>"Yet this fellow. He on the run is—Yes?"</p> + +<p>The eyes were smiling as they came back again to +Idepski's face. The agent nodded, flinging his cigarette +end into the porcelain cuspidore beside the desk.</p> + +<p>"Which makes me all the more sure of the game," +he said confidently. "He's rattled. He's so scared to +death for himself, and for his purpose, he's getting out. +It's as clear as daylight to me. He feels he's plumb +against it if he stops around. He knows we've located +him. He knows what he's done to me. He knows all +he wants to know of you. Well, he reckons there's no +sort of chance for him at Sachigo. And if he stops there's +no sort of chance for this purpose of his. He reckons to +call off the hounds on his own trail, while the feller +Harker carries on the good work of squeezing the Swedes. +That's how I see it. And I guess I'm right. Remember +I had a year of hell up there to think in, and when I +finally got clear away I had two months' solitary chasing +of those woods to think in, and then, when I made the +coast, I had the trip down with the folks on the boat to +listen to. He's scared for his life, and of anything you +hope to hand him. But he's more scared for the purpose +that made him set up that mill at Sachigo."</p> + + +<p>Hellbeam leant back in his chair. His great paunch +protruded invitingly and he clasped his hands over it.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right," he said, with an air intended to +conciliate. "Anyway you've picked up some pieces and +set them together so they make a fancy shape. But—it +isn't good. No. Here, I think, too. I see another, way +from you. Without this fellow Sachigo is—nothing. +See? I care nothing because of this Harker. No. +The other—that's different. Yes. He the brain has. +All this piece you make. He is capable of it. But he +is on the run. Good. I still sleep well while he runs. +Sachigo? Bah! It is nothing without Leslie Martin. +Now, go you. Hunt this man. Maybe your year of +the woods will help you," he said, with biting emphasis. +"You know the woods? Well, don't quit his trail. Get +him. Get him alive."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall get him. Your urging ain't needed. I'll +get him as you say—alive. And he knows it."</p> + +<p>Idepski's cold eyes hardened with a frigid hatred as +he spoke. He had only been paid for the work hitherto. +Now he was implacable.</p> + +<p>"But it's Sachigo I mean to watch," he went on, after +a brief pause. "I mean to play in that direction. It's +the home burrow where you lay your traps once your +quarry's on the run."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's good sense."</p> + +<p>"Sure it is," retorted the agent. "I'm glad you see +it that way," he added with a smile under which the +financier grew restive once more.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Well, see you get him. Money? It doesn't +matter. Get him! Get him!" he reiterated fiercely. +"You understand me? It doesn't matter how you get +him. I can deal with the rest."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he raised a clenched fist, fat, and strong, +and white, and extended his thumb. He turned it + +downwards and pressed its extremity on the gold +mounted blotting pad before him with a force that bent +the knuckle backwards. "Get him so I can crush him—like +that," he cried. "Get him alive. I want him alive. +See?"</p> + +<p>"I see. I'll get him—sure. You needn't worry a +thing."</p> + +<p>And as Walter Idepski rose to take his departure, +for all his nerve, he felt glad that the passion of this +Swede's hate was not directed against him.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr class="doublepage"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_9"></a> +<h2>Part II—Eight Years Later</h2> + + + +<div> +<a name="toc_10"></a> +<h3>Chapter I—Bull Sternford</h3> + + +<p>A great gathering thronged the heart of the clearing. +There were men of every shade of colour, men of well-nigh +every type. They stood about in a wide circle, +whose regularity remained definite even under the +stirring of fierce excitement. They had gathered for a +fight, a great fight between two creatures, full human +in shape and splendid manhood, but bestial in the method +of the battle demanded. It was a battle with muscles +of iron, and hearts that knew no mercy, and body and +mind tuned only to endure and conquer. It was a battle +that belonged to the savage out-world, acknowledging +only the vicious laws of "rough and tough."</p> + +<p>The rough creatures stood voiceless and well-nigh +breathless. The combatants were well matched and redoubtable, +even in a community whose only deity was +physical might and courage and the skill of the wielded +axe. The lust of it all was burning fiercely in every +heart.</p> + +<p>The sun poured out its flood of summer upon a world +of virgin forest. The sky was without blemish. A +dome of perfect azure roofed in the length and breadth +of Nature's kingdom. Nevertheless the fairness of the +summer day, with its ravishing accompaniment of soft, +mystery sounds from an unseen world and the lavish +beauty of shadowed woods were fit setting for the pulsing +of savage emotions. It was far out in the lost world of +Northern Quebec. It was far, far beyond the widest-flung +frontiers of civilisation. It was out there where + +man soon learns to forget his birthright, and readily +yields to the animal in him.</p> + +<p>It was a scene of mighty slaughter amongst the giants +of the forest. Hundreds sprawled in the path of man's +gleaming axe. Giants they were, hoary with age, and +gnarled with the sinews built up by Nature to resist her +fiercest storms. They lay there, in every direction, reaching +up with tattered arms outstretched, as though appealing +for the light, the warmth, and the sweetness of life +they would know no more.</p> + +<p>Amidst this carnage a great camp was growing up. +There were huts completed. There were huts only in the +skeleton. They were dotted about in a fashion apparently +without order or purpose. Yet long before the falling of +the first snow, order would reign everywhere and man's +purpose would be achieved.</p> + +<p>The bunkhouses, the stores, the offices, the stables, they +must all be ready before the coming of the "freeze-up." +Summer is the time of preparation. Winter is the season +when the lumber-jack's work must go forward without +cessation or break of any sort. Not even the excuse +of sickness can be accepted. There is no excuse. The +lumber-jack must work, or sink to the dregs of a life +that has already created in him a spirit of indifference to +the laws of God and man. So the life of the forest is hard +and fierce, and the battle of it all is long.</p> + +<p>But the men who seek it are more than equal to the +task. They are of all sorts, and all races. They drift to +the forest from all ranks of life by reason of the spirit +driving them. They come from the universities of the +world. They come straight from the gates of the penitentiary. +They come from the land, the sea, the office. +They come from all countries, and they come for every +reason. The call of the forest is deep with significance. +Its appeal is profound. Its life is free, and shadowed, and +afar.</p> + + +<p>For long moments the clinch of the fighting men remained +unbroken. They lay there upon the ground locked +in a deadly embrace. A spasmodic jolt, a violent, muscular +heave. The result was changed position, while the clinch +remained unrelaxed. There were movements of gripping +hands. There were changes of position in the intertwined +legs clad in their hard cord trousers. The heavily-booted +feet stirred and stirred again in response to the impulse +of the searching brains of the fighters, and every slight +movement had deep meaning for the onlookers.</p> + +<p>Yet none of these movements revealed the inspiration +of passion. They were calculated and full of purpose. +It was devilish purpose driving towards the objects of +the fight. The stirring fingers yearned to reach the eyes +of the adversary to blind him, and leave his organs of +vision gouged from their sockets. The bared, strong +teeth were only awaiting that dire chance to close upon +the enemy's flesh, whether ear, or nose, or throat. Then +the knee and foot. They were striving under ardent +will for that inhuman maiming which would leave the +victim crippled for life.</p> + +<p>Each movement of the fighters was estimated by the +onlookers at its due worth. They understood it all, the +skill, the chance of it. Not one of them but had fought +just such a battle in his time, and not a few carried the +scars of it, and would continue to carry the scars of it +for the rest of their days.</p> + +<p>The moments of quiescence yielded to a spasmodic +violence. There was a wild rolling, and the unlocking +of mighty, clinging legs. One dishevelled head was raised +threateningly. It remained poised for a fraction of time +over the upturned face of the man lying in a position +of disadvantage. Then it lunged downwards. And as +it descended, a sound like the clipping of teeth came +back to the taut strung senses of the onlookers. A sigh +escaped from a hundred throats.</p> + + +<p>"Bull missed it that time."</p> + +<p>Abe Kristin whispered his comment. The two men +beside him had nothing to add at the moment. Their +eyes were intent for the next development.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the fair-haired giant who had missed his +attack seemed to disengage himself from the under man's +desperate hold. It was impossible to ascertain the means +he employed. But he clearly released himself and one +hammer fist swung up. It crashed sickeningly down on +the upturned face, and a whistling breath escaped the +emotional Abe.</p> + +<p>"Gee! He's takin' a chance! That ain't the play in +a 'rough and tough,'" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Nope. You're right, Abe," Luke Gats agreed without +turning. "He's crazy. Gee! It's a chance. But +he's maybe rattled. Bull's been fightin' over an hour."</p> + +<p>"Here get it!" Tug Burke was pointing with a cant-hook +in his excitement. "Get it quick. See? He's—"</p> + +<p>The man's excitement found reflection in the whole +concourse of onlookers. There was a furious movement +in the human body crushed on the ground beneath the +man they called Bull. Its knees came up under his adversary's +body with a terrific jolt. The purpose of maiming +was obvious.</p> + +<p>"Gee! I'm glad."</p> + +<p>Tug's relief found an echo in the sigh that escaped his +companions. The intended victim had promptly swung +his body clear and the threatened injury was averted. +But his retaliation was instant. His great open hand +spread over the man's face, smothering it; and it seemed +the sought-for goal had been reached.</p> + +<p>"Gouge! Gouge!"</p> + +<p>The cry roared in hoarse, excited tones from every +direction. Unanimity displayed the general feeling. +The man whose face had been smothered was Arden +Laval, the camp boss, the man they hated as only forest-men + +can hate. The other was a giant youngster, not +long a member of the camp, the usual object for +victimisation by such a man as the French Canadian +boss.</p> + +<p>The demand remained unsatisfied. The fingers remained +spread out over the man's eyes, but the foul act +was never perpetrated. The younger man's efforts were +directed towards a deeper, more significant purpose, and +perhaps less cruel. He could have blinded in a twinkling. +But he refrained. Instead, he pressed up mightily +with a fore-arm crooked under the back of the man's +neck, his smothering hand pressed down with all his +enormous strength.</p> + +<p>"The darn fool! Why in hell don't he—?"</p> + +<p>Abe was interrupted by the excited voice of the man +with the cant-hook.</p> + +<p>"God A'mighty!" Tug cried. "Do you get it? +Gouge? It ain't good enough fer Master Bull. He's +playin' bigger. He's playin' fer dollars while we was +reck'nin' cents. Look! It'll crack sure! His gorl-darn +neck! He means—!"</p> + +<p>"To kill!"</p> + +<p>Luke Gat's jubilation was dreadful to witness. His +hard, be-whiskered features were alight with fiendish +joy. This youngster had gone beyond all expectations. +No less than the life of the greatest bully in the lumber +world would satisfy him.</p> + +<p>"Say, the nerve! He'll break the life out o' the +skunk," he exulted. "The kid means crackin' his neck, +sure as God!"</p> + +<p>"Ken he do it?" Tug had thrust forward.</p> + +<p>"Laval ain't the feller he was," mused Abe. "He +shouldn't a let the boy get that holt. It's goin' back. +It certainly is."</p> + +<p>The men stood hushed before the terrible significance +of what they beheld. In the abstract, a life-and-death + +struggle meant little enough to them. Witnessing it, however, +violently stirred their deepest emotions. They hated +the camp boss, the libertine, drunkard, bully, Arden +Laval, who only held his position by reason of his fighting +powers. They would be infinitely pleased to witness +his end. All the more sure was their delight that it +should come at the hands of this pleasant-voiced young +giant, who had come amongst them out of the very lap +of civilisation. Later on they would laugh at the thought +of the redoubtable Laval in the hands of this "kid," as +they considered him. But for the moment they were +held enthralled by the excitement of it all.</p> + +<p>The moments prolonged. The thrusting hand, and +the crushing arm were forcing, forcing slowly, in their +terrible strangle hold. The face of the camp boss was +hidden from the spectators under the smothering hand. +But the perilous angle at which his dark head was thrust +back was there for all to see. His struggles, in that +merciless hold, were becoming less violent. There was +despair in their impotence.</p> + +<p>The man called Bull was fighting with no less desperation. +His youthful, resilient muscles were extended +to the last ounce of their power, and an active, steely-tempered +brain lay behind his every effort. The memory +of months of brutal injustice and bullying, the bitterness +of which had galled beyond endurance, supported this +last mighty effort. Yes, for all he was bred in the gentle +life of civilisation, for all ruthless cruelty had no place +in his normal temper, his one desire now was to kill, to +slay this brute-man who had made his life unendurable.</p> + +<p>It was an awful moment. It was terrible even to +these hardy men of the forests. The spectacle of a slow, +deliberate killing was incomparable with the blood feuds +to which they were used. There were those whose nerves +prompted them to shout for haste. There were some +even who welcomed the prolonged agony of the victim. + +But none shouted, none spoke or stirred. Furthermore, +not one pair of shining eyes revealed the quality of +mercy. Bull's right was his own. If he demanded death +it was his due. Certainly it was the due of the bully, +Laval.</p> + +<p>On the far side of the circle a sudden commotion broke +up the tense expectancy of the onlookers. Every eye +responded, and the unanimity of the change of interest +suggested the desire for relief. The commotion continued. +There was some sort of struggle going on. +Then, in a moment, it ceased. A tall, lean, dark-clad +figure leapt into the arena and flung itself upon the +combatants.</p> + +<p>The circle had re-formed. Again were eyes fastened +upon the point of fascination which had held them so +long. But now a buzz of talk hummed on the summer +air.</p> + +<p>"What in hell!" demanded Luke, in the bitterness +of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Here, I'm—"</p> + +<p>Tug Burke made a move to break into the arena. +But the powerful hand of Abe was fastened about one +of his arms in a grip of iron.</p> + +<p>"Say, quit, kid!" he cried hoarsely.</p> + +<p>The man's harsh tones were stirred out of their usual +quiet.</p> + +<p>"Stop right here," he went on. "There's just one +feller on this earth has a right to butt in when Death's +flappin' his wings around. That's Father Adam. Maybe +you're feeling sick to think Laval's going to get clear +with his life. Maybe I am. Father Adam ain't buttin' + +in ordinary. He's savin' that hothead kid the blood +of a killin' on his hands. Guess I'm glad."</p> + +<p>The next moments were abounding with amazing +incident. It seemed as though a flying, priestly figure +had been absorbed in the life-and-death struggle. He + +seemed to become part of it. Then, with kaleidoscopic +suddenness, the men lay apart, and the death strangle +hold of Bull Sternford was broken. And the magic of +it all lay in the fact that the stranger was standing over +the prone combatants, his dark, bearded face, and wide, +shining black eyes turned upon the living fury gazing +up out of the eyes of the man who had been robbed of +his prey.</p> + +<p>"There's going to be no killing, Bull." Father Adam +spoke quietly, deliberately, but with cold decision.</p> + +<p>There was no yielding in his pale, ascetic features. +One hand slipped quickly into a pocket of his short, +black, semi-clerical coat, as he allowed his eyes to glance +down at the still prostrate camp boss.</p> + +<p>"And you, Laval," he cried, with more urgency, "get +out quick. Get right out to your shanty and stop there. +Later I'll come along and fix up your hurts."</p> + +<p>Young Bull Sternford leapt to his feet. His youthful +figure towered. His handsome blue eyes were ablaze +with almost demoniac fury. His purpose was obvious. +A voiceless passion surged as he started to rush again +upon his victim.</p> + +<p>But the priestly figure, with purpose no less, instantly +barred the way.</p> + +<p>"Quit," he cried sharply. "What I say, goes."</p> + +<p>Bull halted. He halted within a yard of the automatic +pistol whose muzzle was covering him. He stood for a +second staring stupidly. And something of his madness +seemed to pass out of his eyes. Then, in a moment, +his voice rang out harshly.</p> + +<p>"Get away. Let me get at him. Oh, God, I'll smash +him! I'll—!"</p> + +<p>"You'll quit right now!" Father Adam still barred +the way with the threatening gun. He raised the muzzle +the least shade. "There's this gun says you're not +going to have murder on your hands, boy; and there's + +a man behind it knows how to make it stop your mad +attempt. That's better," he went on, as, even in his fury +the younger man drew back in face of the threat. "Say, +you've done enough, boy. You've done all you need. +He's deserved everything he's got, the same as most of us +deserve the bad times we get. You've licked him like the +good man you are. You've licked him without any filthy +maiming, or unnecessary cruelty. Now leave him his life. +He'll never trouble you again. Let it go at that."</p> + +<p>The calm of the man, the gentleness of his tones were +irresistible. The fury of the youth died hard, but it so +lessened in face of the simple exhortation that it had +passed below the point where insanity rules.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a great, bleeding hand was raised to his +mane of fair hair, and he smoothed it back off his forehead +helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Why? Why?" he demanded. Then spasmodically: +"Why should—he—get away with it? He's handed +me a dog's life He's—"</p> + +<p>He broke off. His emotions were overwhelming.</p> + +<p>Father Adam's dark eyes never wavered. They +squarely held their grip on the stormy light shining in +the other's. Laval had not stirred. He still lay sprawled +on the ground. Quite abruptly the hand gripping the +automatic pistol was thrust into the pocket of the black +coat. When it was removed it was empty. The man +took a quick step towards the half-dazed Bull.</p> + +<p>"Come along, boy," he said persuasively, taking him +by the arm. "Come right over to my shanty," he went +on. "You'll feel better in a while. You'll feel better +all ways, and glad you—didn't." Then he paused, holding +the man's unresisting arm. He looked down at +Laval who displayed belated signs of movement. "Get +up, Laval," he ordered, returning to a coldness that displayed +his inner feeling. "Get up, and—get out. Get +away right now, and thank God your neck's still whole."</p> + + +<p>He waited for the obedience he demanded, and waiting +he realised by the quiescence of the man beside him +that all danger had passed.</p> + +<p>Laval staggered to his feet. He stood up, a giant +in the prime of early manhood, but bowed under the +weight of physical hurt, and the knowledge of his first +defeat. He stood for a moment as though uncertain. +Then he moved slowly towards the crowding onlookers, +finally passing through them on his way to his quarters +pursued by a hundred contemptuous, unpitying glances, +while busy tongues expressed regret at his escape. It +was the scowl of the wolf pack in its merciless regard +for a fallen leader.</p> + +<p>Very different was the general attitude when Father +Adam led the victor away. Hard faces were a-grin. +The tongues that cursed the defeated camp boss hurled +jubilant laudations at the unresponsive youth, who +towered even amongst these great creatures. But for +the presence of Father Adam, who seemed to exercise +a miraculous restraining influence, these lumber-jacks +would have crowded in and forcibly borne their champion +to the suttler's store for those copious libations, +which, in their estimate, was the only fitting conclusion +to the scene they had witnessed. As it was they made +way. They stood aside in spontaneous and real respect, +and the two men passed on in silence leaving the crowd +to disperse to its labours.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_11"></a> +<h3>Chapter II—Father Adam</h3> + + +<p>The hush of the forest was profound. For all the proximity +of the busy lumber camp its calm was unbroken.</p> + +<p>It was a break in the endless canopy of foliage, a +narrow rift in the dark breadth of the shadowed woods.</p> + + +<p>It was one of those infinitesimal veins through which +flows the life-blood of the forest.</p> + +<p>A tiny streamlet trickled its way over a bed of decayed +vegetation often meandering through a dense growth +of wiry reeds in a channel set well below the general +level. Banks of attenuated grass and rank foliage lined +its course, and the welcome sunlight poured down +upon its water in sharp contrast with the twilight of the +forest.</p> + +<p>Clear of the crowding trees a rough shanty stood out +in the sunlight. It was a crazy affair constructed of +logs laterally laid and held in place by uprights, with +walls that looked to be just able to hold together while +suffering under the constant threat of collapse. The +place was roofed with a thatch of reeds taken from the +adjacent stream-bed, and its doorway was protected by +a sheet of tattered sacking. There was also a window +covered with cotton, and a length of iron stove-pipe +protruding through the thatch of the roof seemed to +threaten the whole place with fire at its first use.</p> + +<p>Inside there was no attempt to better the impression. +There was no furnishing. A spread of blankets on a +waterproof sheet laid on a bed of reeds formed the bed +of its owner, with a canvas kit-bag stuffed with his +limited wardrobe serving as a pillow. There were +several upturned boxes to be used as seats, and a larger +box served the purpose of a table and supported a tiny +oil lamp. There was not even the usual wood stove +connected up to the protruding stove-pipe. A smouldering +fire was burning between two large sandstone blocks, +which, in turn, supported a cooking pot. An uncultured +Indian of the forests would have demanded greater +comfort for his resting moments.</p> + +<p>But Father Adam had no concern for comfort of +body. He needed his blankets and his fire solely to +support life against the bitterness of the night air. For + +the rest the barest, hardest food kept the fire of life +burning in his lean body.</p> + +<p>Squatting on his upturned box he gazed out upon the +sunlit stream below him. His dark eyes were full +of a pensive calm. His body was inclining forward, +supported by arms folded across his knees. An unlit +pipe thrust in the corner of his mouth was the one +touch that defeated the efforts of his flowing hair and +dark beard to suggest a youthful hermit meditating in +the doorway of his retreat.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was seated on another box at the +opposite side of the doorway. He, too, had a pipe +thrust between his strong jaws. But he was smoking. +Beyond the dressings applied to a few abrasions he bore +no signs of his recent battle. But there still burned a +curiously fierce light in his handsome blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't have butted in, Father," he said, in +a tone which betrayed the emotion under which he was +still labouring. "You just shouldn't." Then with a +movement of irritation: "Oh, I'm not a feller yearning +for homicide. No. It's not that. You know Arden +Laval," he went on, his brows depressing. "Of course +you do. You must know him a whole heap better than +I do. Well? Say, I guess that feller hasn't a right to +walk this earth. He boasts the boys he's smashed the +life clean out of. He's killed more fool lumber-jacks +than you could count on the fingers of two hands. He +wanted my scalp to hang on his belt. That man's a +murderer before God. But he's beyond the recall of +law up here. And he stops around on the fringe looking +for the poor fool suckers who don't know better than +to get within his reach. Gee, it was tough! I'd a holt +on him I wouldn't get in a thousand years, and I'd +nearly got the life out of him. I'd stood for all his +dirt weeks on end. He made his set at me because I'm +green and college-bred. But he called me a 'son-of-a-bitch!' + +Think of it! Oh, I can't rest with that hitting +my brain. It's no use. I'll have to break him. God, +I'll break him yet. And I'll see you aren't around when +I do it."</p> + +<p>The man's voice had risen almost to a shout. His +bandaged hands clenched into fists like limbs of mutton. +He held them out at the man opposite, and in his agony +of rage, it gave the impression he was threatening.</p> + +<p>Father Adam stirred. He reached down into the +box under him and picked up a pannikin. Then he +produced a flask from an inner pocket. He unscrewed +the top and poured out some of its contents. He held +it out to the other.</p> + +<p>"Drink it," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>The blue eyes searched the dark face before them. +In a moment excitement had begun to pass.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Bull demanded roughly.</p> + +<p>"It's brandy, and there's dope in it."</p> + +<p>"Dope?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Bromide. You'll feel better after you've +swallowed it. You see I want to make a big talk with +you. That's why I brought you here. That's why I +stopped you killing that feller—that, and other reasons. +But I can't talk with you acting like—like I'd guess +Arden Laval would act. Drink that right up. And +you needn't be scared of it. It'll just do you the good +you need."</p> + +<p>Father Adam watched while the other took the pannikin. +He watched him raise it, and sniff suspiciously at +its contents. And a shadowy smile lit his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's as I said," he prompted. Then he added: "I'm +not a—Cæsar."</p> + +<p>The youth glanced across at him, and for the first +time since his battle a smile broke through the angry +gleam of his eyes. He put the pannikin to his lips and +gulped down the contents.</p> + + +<p>Father Adam drew a deep sigh. It was curious how +this act of obedience and faith affected him. The weight +of his responsibility seemed suddenly to have become +enormous.</p> + +<p>It was always the same. This man accepted him as +did every other lumber-jack throughout the forests of +Quebec. He was a father whose patient affection for +his lawless children was never failing, a man of healing, +with something of the gentleness of a woman. An +adviser and spiritual guide who never worried them, +and yet contrived, perhaps all unknown to themselves, +to leave them better men for their knowledge of him. +He came, and he departed. Whence he came and +whither he went no one enquired, no one seemed to know. +He just moved through the twilight forests like a +ghostly, beneficent shadow, supreme in his command +of their rugged hearts.</p> + +<p>Bull set the pannikin on the ground beside him. His +smile had deepened.</p> + +<p>"You needn't to tell me that, Father," he said, almost +humbly. "There isn't a feller back there in the camp," +he added with a jerk of his head, "that would have +hesitated like me when you handed him your dope. +Thanks. Say, that darn stuff's made me feel easier."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>The missionary removed his empty pipe, and Bull +hastily dragged his pouch from a pocket in his buckskin +shirt. He held it out.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," he invited. And the other took it. +For a moment Bull looked on at the thoughtful manner +in which Father Adam filled his pipe. Then a curiosity +he could no longer restrain prompted him.</p> + +<p>"This big talk," he said. "What's it about?"</p> + +<p>The missionary's preoccupation vanished. His eyes +lit and he passed back the pouch.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, boy," he said in his amiable way. "Guess + +I'll need to smoke, too—you see our talk needs some +hard thinking. Pass me a stick from that fire."</p> + +<p>Bull did as he was bid. And the missionary's eyes +were on the fair head of the man as he leant down over +the smouldering embers stewing his own meagre midday +meal.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was a creature of vast stature and +muscular bulk. It was no wonder that the redoubtable +Laval had run up against defeat. The camp boss had +lived for twenty years the hard life of the forests. His +body was no less great than this man's. His experience +in physical battle was well-nigh unlimited. But so, too, +was his debauchery.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was younger. He was clean and fresh +from one of the finest colleges of the world. He was an +athlete by training and nature. Then, too, his mentality +was of that amazing fighting quality which stirs youth +to go out and seek the world rather than vegetate in the +nursery of childhood. It was all there written in his +keen, blue eyes, in the set of his jaws of even white +teeth. It was all there in the muscular set of his great +neck, and in the poise of his handsome head, and in the +upright carriage of his breadth of shoulder. Even his +walk was a thing to mark him out from his fellows. It +was bold, perhaps even there was a suggestion of arrogance +in it. But it was only the result of the military +straightness of his body.</p> + +<p>Little wonder, then, a man of Arden Laval's brutal +nature should mark him down as desired victim. This +man was "green." He was educated. He possessed a +spirit worth breaking. Later he would learn. Later he +would become a force in the calling of the woods. Now +he would be easy.</p> + +<p>The brute had sought every opportunity to bait and +goad the man to his undoing. For months he had +"camped on his trail," and Bull had endured. Then + +came that moment of the filthy epithet, and Bull's spirit +broke through the bonds of will that held it. The insult +had been hurled at the moment and at the spot where +the battle had been fought. Bull had flung himself +forthwith at the throat of the French Canadian almost +before the last syllable of the insult had passed the man's +lips. And the end of nearly a two hours' battle had been +the downfall of the bully, with the name of Bull Sternford +hailed as a fighting man in his place.</p> + +<p>The firebrand was passed to the waiting missionary. +He sucked in the pleasant fumes of a lumberman's +tobacco. Then the stick was flung back to its place in +the fire.</p> + +<p>Father Adam nursed one long leg, which he flung +across the other, while his wide, intelligent eyes gazed +squarely into the eyes of the man opposite.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said. "What brought you into the life +of the woods? What left you quitting the things I can +see civilisation handed you? This is the life of the +wastrel, the fallen, the man who knows no better. It's +not for men starting out in possession of all those things—you +have."</p> + +<p>Bull sat for a moment without replying. Father +Adam's "dope" had done its work. His passionate +moments had vanished like an ugly dream. His turbulent +spirit had attained peace. Suddenly he looked +up with a frank laugh.</p> + +<p>"Now, why in hell should I tell you?"</p> + +<p>It was an irresistible challenge. The missionary +nodded his approval.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why—in hell—should you?"</p> + +<p>He, too, laughed. And his laugh miraculously lit +up his ascetic features.</p> + +<p>Instantly Bull flung out one bandaged hand in a sweeping +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I—anyway?" he cried, with the + +abandon of a man impatient of all subterfuge. "Guess +I ought to turn right around and ask who the devil you +are to look into my affairs? Who are you to assume +the right of inquisitor?" He shook his head. "But +I'm not going to. Now I'm sane again I know just +how much you did for me. I meant killing Laval. Oh, +yes, there wasn't a thing going to break my hold until +he was dead—dead. You got me in time to save me +from wrecking my whole life. And you got in at—the +risk of your own. If I'd killed him all the things and +purposes I've worried with since I left college would +have been just so much junk; and I'd have drifted into +the life of a bum lumber-jack without any sort of notion +beyond rye whiskey, and the camp women, and a well +swung axe. You saved me from that. You saved me +from myself. Well, you're real welcome to ask me any +old thing, and I'll hand you all the truth there is in me. +I'm an 'illegitimate.' I'm one of the world's friendless. I'm +a product of a wealthy man's licence and unscruple. +I'm an outcast amongst the world's honest born. But +it's no matter. I'm not on the squeal. Those who're +responsible for my being did their best to hand me the +things a man most needs. Mind, and body, and will. +Further, they gave me all that education, books, and +college can hand a feller. More than that, my father, +who seems to have had more honesty than you'd expect, +handed me a settlement of a hundred thousand dollars +the day I became twenty-one. I never knew him, and +I never knew my mother. The circumstances of my +birth were simply told me on my twenty-first birthday. +I know no more. And I care nothing to hunt out those +spectres that don't figger to hand a feller much comfort. +The rest is easy. I hope I'm a feller of some guts—"</p> + +<p>Father Adam nodded, and his eyes lit.</p> + +<p>"Sure," was all he commented.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, I feel like it," Bull laughed. "When I + +learned all these things I started right in to think. I +thought like hell. I said to myself something like this: +'There's nothing to hold me where I am. There's no +one around to care a curse. There's that feeling right +inside the pit of my stomach makes me feel I want to +make good. I want to build up around me all that my +birth has refused me. A name, a life circle, a power, a—anyway, +get right out and do things! Well, what was +I going to do? It needed thinking. Then I hit the +notion."</p> + +<p>He laughed again. He was gazing in at himself +and laughing at the conceits he knew were real, and +strong, and vital.</p> + +<p>"Say." He nodded at the prospect through the doorway. +"There it is. This country's beginning. We +don't know half it means to the world yet. Well, I +hadn't enough capital to play with, so I resolved right +away to start in and learn a trade from its first step to +its topmost rung, and to earn my keep right through. +Meanwhile my capital's lying invested against the time +I open out. I'm going to jump right into the groundwood +pulp business when the time comes. And out of +that I mean to build a name that folks won't easily forget. +Well, I guess you won't find much that's interesting +in all this. It don't sound anything particularly bright +or new. But for what it is it's my notion, and—I'm +going to put it through. That's why I'm here. I'm +learning my job from the bottom."</p> + +<p>The decision and force of the man were remarkable. +The conciseness of his story, and his indifference to the +tragedy of his birth, indicated a level mind under +powerful control. And Father Adam knew he had +made no mistake.</p> + +<p>"It's the best story I've heard in years," he replied, +a whimsical smile lighting his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + + +<p>Bull's smile was no less whimsical.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You've guts of iron, boy. And I've been +looking years for just such a man."</p> + +<p>"That sounds—tough," Bull laughed, but he was +interested. "What's the job you want him for? Are +you yearning to hand out a killing? Is it a trip—a trip +to some waste space of God's earth that 'ud freeze up a +normal heart? Do you want a feller to beat the laws +of God and man? Guts of iron! It certainly sounds +tough, and I'm not sure you've found the feller you're +needing."</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>Father Adam was no longer smiling. The gravity +of his expression gave emphasis to his words.</p> + +<p>Bull was impressed. His laugh died out.</p> + +<p>"I don't know I'm yearning," he said deliberately. +"Anyway I don't quit the track I've marked out. That +way there's nothing doing. It's a crank with me; I +can't quit a notion."</p> + +<p>"You don't have to."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>They were regarding each other steadily.</p> + +<p>"Here, it's not my way to beat around," the missionary +exclaimed suddenly. "When you find the thing you +need you've got to act quick and straight. Just listen +a while, while I make a talk. Ask all you need as I go +along. And when I've done I'd thank you for a straight +answer and quick. An answer that'll hold you, and +bind you the way your own notions do."</p> + +<p>"That's talk."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded appreciatively. The missionary let his +gaze wander to the pleasant sunlight through the doorway, +where the flies and mosquitoes were basking.</p> + +<p>"There was a fellow who started up a groundwood +mill 'way out on the Labrador coast. He was bright +enough, and a mighty rich man. And he'd got a notion—a + +big notion. Well, I know him. I know him intimately. +I don't know if he's a friend to me or not. +Sometimes I think he isn't. Anyway, that doesn't +matter to you. The thing that does matter is, he set +out to do something big. His notions were always big. +Maybe too big. This notion was no less than to drive +the Skandinavians out of the groundwood trade of this +country. He figured his great mill was to be the nucleus +of an all-Canadian and British combination, embracing +the entire groundwood industry of this country. It +was to be Canadian trade for Canada with the British +Empire."</p> + +<p>Bull emitted a low whistle.</p> + +<p>"An elegant slogan," he commented.</p> + +<p>He shifted his position. In his interest his pipe had +gone out, and he leant forward on his upturned box.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Father Adam went on. "And, like your +notion, it was something not easily shifted from his +mind. It was planned and figured to the last detail. It +was so planned it could not fail. So he thought. So +all concerned thought. You see, he had ten million +dollars capital of his own; and he was something of a +genius at figures and finance—his people reckoned. He +was a man of some purpose, and enthusiasm, and—something +else."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>Bull's alert brain was prompt to seize upon the reservation. +But denial was instant.</p> + +<p>"No. It wasn't drink, or women, or any foolishness +of that sort," the missionary said. "The whole edifice +of his purpose came tumbling about his ears from a +totally unexpected cause. Something happened. Something +happened to the man himself. It was disaster—personal +disaster. And when it came a queer sort of +weakness tripped him, a weakness he had always +hitherto had strength to keep under, to stifle. His + +courage failed him, and the bottom of his purpose fell +out like—that."</p> + +<p>Father Adam clipped his fingers in the air and his +regretful eyes conveyed the rest. Then, after a moment, +he smiled.</p> + +<p>"He'd no—iron guts," he said, with a sigh. "He had +no stomach for battle in face of this—this disaster that +hit him."</p> + +<p>"It has no relation to his—undertaking?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. I know the whole thing. We were +'intimates.' I know his whole life story. It was a disaster +to shake any man."</p> + +<p>The missionary sighed profoundly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I knew him intimately," he went on. "I +deplored his weakness. I censured it. Perhaps I went +far beyond any right of mine to condemn. I don't +know. I argued with him. I did all I could to support +him. You see, I appreciated the splendid notion of the +thing he contemplated. More than that, I knew it could +be carried out."</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It was useless. This taint—this yellow streak—was +part of the man. He could no more help it than you +could help fighting to the death."</p> + +<p>"Queer."</p> + +<p>A sort of pitying contempt shone in the younger +man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Queer?" Father Adam nodded. "It was—crazy."</p> + +<p>"It surely was."</p> + +<p>The missionary turned back to the prospect beyond +the doorway. But it was only for a moment. He turned +again and went on with added urgency.</p> + +<p>"But the scheme wasn't wholly to be abandoned. It +was—say, here was the crazy proposition he put up. +You see I was his most intimate friend. He said: +'The forests are wide. They're peopled with men of + +our craft. There must be a hundred and more men +capable of doing this thing. Of putting it through. +Well, the forests must provide the man, or the idea +must die.' He said: 'We must find a man!' He said: + +'You—you whose mission it is to roam the length +and breadth of these forests—you may find such a man. +If you do—when you do—if it's years hence—send +him along here, and there's ten million dollars waiting +for him, and all this great mill, and these timber limits +inexhaustible waiting for him to go right ahead. It +doesn't matter a thing who he is, or what he is, or +where he comes from, so long as he gets this idea—sticks +to it faithfully—and puts it through. I want nothing +out of it for myself. And the day he succeeds in +the great idea all that would have been mine shall be +his.'"</p> + +<p>As Father Adam finished, he looked into the earnest, +wonder-filled eyes of the other.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Bull cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>"The mill? Where is it?" He demanded.</p> + +<p>"Sachigo. Farewell Cove."</p> + +<p>"Sachigo! Why it's—"</p> + +<p>"The greatest groundwood mill in the world."</p> + +<p>There was a note of pride and triumph in the missionary's +tone. But it passed unheeded. Bull was +struggling with recollection.</p> + +<p>"This man? Wasn't it Leslie Standing who built it? +Didn't it break him or something? That's the story +going round. There was something—"</p> + +<p>Father Adam shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There's ten million dollars says it didn't. Ten +millions you can handle yourself."</p> + +<p>"Gee!"</p> + +<p>Bull drew a sharp breath. Strong, forceful as he was +the figure was overwhelming.</p> + + +<p>"This—all this you're saying—offering? It's all real, +true?" Bull demanded at last.</p> + +<p>"All of it."</p> + +<p>"You want me to go and take possession of Sachigo, +and ten—Say, where's the catch?"</p> + +<p>"There's no 'catch'—anywhere."</p> + +<p>The denial was cold. It was almost in the tone of +affronted dignity. The missionary had thrust his hand +in a pocket. Now he produced a large, sealed envelope. +Bull's eyes watched the movement, but bewilderment was +still apparent in them. Suddenly he raised a bandaged +hand, and smoothed back his hair.</p> + +<p>Father Adam held out the sealed letter. It was +addressed to "Bat Harker," at Sachigo Mill.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said quietly. "You're the man with iron +guts Leslie Standing wants for his purpose. Take this. +Go right off to Sachigo and take charge of the greatest +enterprise in the world's paper industry. You're looking +to make good. It's your set purpose to make good +in the groundwood industry. Opportunities don't come +twice in a lifetime. If you've the iron courage I believe, +you'll grab this chance. You'll grab it right away. +Will you? Can you do it? Have you the nerve?"</p> + +<p>There was a taunt in the challenge. It was calculated. +There was something else. The missionary's dark eyes +were almost pleading.</p> + +<p>Bull seized the letter. He almost snatched it.</p> + +<p>"Will I do it? Can I do it? Have I the nerve?" +he cried, in a tone of fierce exulting. "If there's a feller +crazy enough to hand me ten million dollars and trust +me with a job—if it was as big as a war between nations—I'd +never squeal. Can I? Will I? Sure I will. +And time'll answer the other for you. Iron guts, eh! I +tell you in this thing they're chilled steel."</p> + +<p>"Good!"</p> + +<p>Father Adam was smiling. A great relief, a great + +happiness stirred his pulses as he stood up and moved +over to the miserable fire with its burden of stewing +food.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll eat," he said. And he stooped down and +stirred the contents of the pot.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_12"></a> +<h3>Chapter III—Bull Learns Conditions</h3> + + +<p>The <em>Myra</em> ploughed her leisurely way up the cove. +There was dignity in the steadiness with which she glided +through the still waters. The cockleshell of the Atlantic +billows had become a thing of pride in the shelter of +Farewell Cove. Her predecessor, the <em>Lizzie</em>, had never +risen above her humble station.</p> + +<p>Her decks were wide and clean. Her smoke-stack had +something purposeful in its proportions. The bridge +was set high and possessed a spacious chart house. She +had an air of importance not usual to the humble coasting +packet.</p> + +<p>"Old man" Hardy was at his post now. One of his +officers occupied the starboard side of the bridge, while +he and another looked out over the port bow.</p> + +<p>"It's a deep water channel," the skipper said, with all +a sailor's appreciation. "That's the merricle that makes +this place. It'ud take a ten-thousand tonner with +fathoms to spare right away up to the mooring berth. +Guess Nature meant Sachigo for a real port, but got +mussed fixing the climate."</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was leaning over the rail. For all +summer was at its height the thick pea-jacket he was +wearing was welcome enough. His keen eyes were +searching, and no detail of the prospect escaped them. +He was filled with something akin to amazement.</p> + +<p>"It compares with the big harbours of the world," he + +replied. "And I'd say it's not without advantages many +of the finest of 'em lack. Those headlands we passed +away back. Why, the Atlantic couldn't blow a storm +big enough to more than ripple the surface here inside." +He laughed. "What a place to fortify. Think of this +in war time, eh?"</p> + +<p>The grizzled skipper grinned responsively.</p> + +<p>"It's all you reckon," he said. "But she needs +humouring. You need to get this place in winter when +ice and snow make it tough. This cove freezes right +around its shores. You'd maybe lay off days to get +inside, only to find yourself snow or fog bound for +weeks on end. We make it because we have to with +mails. But you can't run cargo bottoms in winter. +It's a coasting master's job in snow time. It's a life +study. You can get in, and you can get out—if you've +nerve. If you're short that way you'll pile up sure as +hell."</p> + +<p>He turned away to the chart room, and a moment +later the engine-room telegraph chimed his orders to +those below.</p> + +<p>Bull was left with his busy thoughts.</p> + +<p>It was a remarkable scene. The forest slopes came +right down almost to the water's edge on either hand. +They came down from heights that rose mountainously. +And there, all along the foreshore were dotted timber-built +habitations sufficient to shelter hundreds of workers. +Their quality was staunch and picturesque, and pointed +much of the climate rigour they were called upon to +endure. But they only formed a background to, perhaps, +the most wonderful sight of all. A road and +trolley car line skirted each foreshore, and the mind behind +the searching eyes was filled with admiration for +the skill and enterprise that had transplanted one of +civilisation's most advanced products here on the desperate +coast of Labrador. Many of the forest whispers + +of Sachigo had been incredible. But this left the +onlooker ready to believe anything of it.</p> + +<p>The mill, and the township surrounding it, were +already within view, a wide-scattered world of buildings, +occupying all the lower levels of the territory on both +sides of the mouth of the Beaver River before it rose +to the heights from which its water power fell.</p> + +<p>Bull was amazed. And as he gazed, his wonder and +admiration were intensified a hundredfold by his self-interest. +This place was to be in his control, possibly +his possession if he made good. He thrust back the +fur cap pressed low on his forehead.</p> + +<p>His thought leapt back on the instant to the man who +had sent him down to this Sachigo. Father Adam, +with his thin, ascetic features, his long, dark hair and +beard, his tall, spare figure. His patient kindliness +and sympathy, and yet with the will and force behind +it which could fling the muzzle of a gun into a man's +face and force obedience. He had sent him. Why? +Because—oh, it was all absurd, unreal. And yet here he +was on the steamer; and there ahead lay the wonders of +Sachigo. Well, time would prove the craziness of it all.</p> + +<p>"Makes you wonder, eh?" The coasting skipper was +at his side again. "You know these folks needed big +nerve to set up this enterprise. It keeps me guessing +at the limits where man has to quit. I've spent my life +on this darn coast, an' never guessed to see the day +when trolley cars 'ud run on Labrador, and the working +folk 'ud sit around in their dandy houses, with electric +light making things comfortable for them, and electric +heat takin' the place of the cordwood stove it seemed +to me folk never could do without. Can you beat it? +No. You can't. Nor anyone else."</p> + +<p>"Who is it? A corporation?" Bull asked, knowing +full well the answer. He wanted to hear, he wanted +to learn all that this man could tell him.</p> + + +<p>Hardy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Standing," he said. "That was the guy's name who +started it all up. But," he added thoughtfully, "I never +rightly knew which feller it was. If it was Standing, +or that tough hoboe feller who calls himself Bat Harker. +They never talk a heap. But since Leslie Standing +passed out o' things eight years back—the time I was +first handed command of this kettle—the mill's jumped +out of all notion. Those trolleys," he pointed at the +foreshore of the cove: "They started in to haul the +'hands' to their work only two years back. I'd say it's +Bat Harker. But he looks more like a longshore tough +than a—genius."</p> + +<p>He shrugged expressively. Then he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he went on. "I don't know a thing but what +any guy can learn who comes along up this coast. I've +thought a heap. An', like you, I've ast questions all +the time. But you don't learn a thing of this enterprise +but the things you see. Bat Harker don't ever +talk." He laughed in quiet enjoyment. "He's most +like a clam mussed up in a cement bar'l. There don't +seem any clear reason either. The only thing queer to +me was Standing's 'get out.' There was talk then when +that happened along. But it was jest talk. Canteen +talk. Something sort of happened. No one seemed +rightly to know. They guessed Bat was a tough guy +who'd boosted him out—some way. Then I heard his +wife had quit and he was all broke up. Then they said +he'd made losses of millions on stock market gambles. +But the yarns don't fit. You see, the mill's gone right +ahead. The capital's there, sure. They've just built +and built. There's more than twice the 'hands' there +was eight years back. And get a look at the 'bottoms' + +loading at the wharves. No. Say, when I came aboard +the <em>Myra</em> and they scrapped the <em>Lizzie</em>, I never guessed +to get a full cargo. Well, I can load right down to the + +water line for this place alone all the time. No. +Sachigo's a mighty big fixture in the trade of this coast. +It's a swell proposition for us sea folk. It keeps our +propellers moving all the time. They're bright folk, +sure."</p> + +<p>The old seaman laughed and moved off again to his +telegraphs. The business of running in to the quayside +was beginning in earnest.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The hawsers creaked and strained at the bollards. +The vessel yawed. Then she settled at her berth. The +engine-room telegraph chimed its final order, and the +vessel's busy heart came to rest. Instantly activity +reigned upon the deck, and the discharge of cargo was +in full swing.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was one of the first to pass down the +gangway. Clad in the pleasant tweeds of civilisation, +part hidden under a close-buttoned pea-jacket, he bulked +enormously. His more than six feet of height was lost +against his massive breadth of shoulder. Then, too, +his keen face under a beaver cap, and his shapely head +with its mane of hair, were things to deny his body that +attention it might otherwise have attracted.</p> + +<p>For all that, at least one pair of critical eyes lost no +detail of his personality. Bat Harker was unobtrusively +standing amongst the piled bales of groundwood that +stacked the wharf from end to end. There was nothing +about him to single him out from those who stood on +the quay. The rough clothing of his original calling +was very dear to him, and he clung to it tenaciously. +He seemed to have aged not one whit in the added eight +years. His iron-grey hair was just as thick and colourful +as before. There was no added line in his hard +face. His girth was no less and no more. And his +eyes, penetrating, steady, had the same spirit shining +in them.</p> + + +<p>He had laboured something desperately in the past +eight years. With the passing of Leslie Standing from +the life of Sachigo he had realized a terrible loss. His +loss had more than embarrassed him. There was even +a moment when it shook his purpose. But with him +Sachigo was a religion, and his faith saved him. For +a while, in both letter and spirit, he obeyed his orders, +and Sachigo stood still. Then his philosophy carried +the day. It was his dictum that no one could stand +still on Labrador without freezing to death. He saw +the application of it to his beloved mill. It must be +"forward" or decay. So he scrapped his original orders, +and drove with all his force.</p> + +<p>Bull stared about him for the fascination of his +journey up the cove was still on him. His pre-occupation +left him watching the hurried, orderly movement +going on about him.</p> + +<p>"That all your baggage?"</p> + +<p>The demand was harsh, and Bull swung round with +a start. He was gazing down into the upturned face of +Bat Harker, who was pointing at the suit case he was +carrying.</p> + +<p>"Guess I've a trunk back there in the hold somewhere," +Bull replied indifferently, taking his interrogator +for a quayside porter.</p> + +<p>"That's all right. I'll have one of the boys tote it +up. Best come right along. It's quite a piece up to the +office. You've a letter for me?"</p> + +<p>"I've a letter for Mr. Bat Harker."</p> + +<p>The doubt in Bull's tone set a genuine grin in the +other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sure. That's me. Bat Harker. Maybe you don't +guess I look it. Don't worry. Just pass it over."</p> + +<p>Bull groped in an inner pocket, surprise affording +him some amusement. His interest in Sachigo had +abruptly focussed itself on this man.</p> + + +<p>"I'm kind of sorry," he said. "I surely took you for +some sort of—porter."</p> + +<p>Bat laughed outright, and glanced down at his work-stained +clothing.</p> + +<p>"Wal, that ain't new," he said. Then his eyes resumed +their keen regard. "We don't need to wait +around though. The skitters are mighty thick down +here. Sachigo's gettin' a special breed I kind o' hate. +That letter, an'—we'll get along."</p> + +<p>Bull drew out Father Adam's letter and waited while +the other tore it open. Bat glanced at the contents and +jumped to the signature. Then he thrust out a gnarled +and powerful hand.</p> + +<p>"Shake," he cried. And there could be no doubting +his good will. "Glad to have you around, Mr. Bull +Sternford."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was seated in the luxurious chair that +had once known Leslie Standing. His pea-jacket was +removed and his cap was gone. The room was warm, +and the sun beyond the window was radiant. Beyond +the desk Bat was seated, where his wandering gaze +could drift to the one object of which it never tired. +He was at the window which looked out upon the mill +below.</p> + +<p>He was reading Father Adam's letter. Sternford was +silently regarding his squat figure. He was waiting +and wondering, speculating as to the hard-faced, uncultured +creature who had built up all the amazing details +that made up an industrial city in a territory that was +outlawed by Nature.</p> + +<p>Bat thrust the letter away and looked up.</p> + +<p>"Father Adam didn't write that letter for you? He +just handed it out to you to bring along?"</p> + +<p>"That's how," Bull nodded.</p> + + +<p>"Sure." Bat's tone became reflective. "He must +have wrote that letter years, and held it against the time +he located you. He's queer."</p> + +<p>Bull laughed.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he is," he said, "I don't know about that. +But he's one hell of a good man," he went on warmly. +"Do you know him? But of course you do. Say, he's +just father and mother to every darn lumber-jack that +haunts the forests of Quebec, and it don't worry him if +his children are hellhound or honest. There's that to +him sets me just crazy. I'd like to see his thin, tired face, +always smiling." He stirred. And the warmth died +abruptly out of his manner. "Say, you knew me—at +the wharf?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. I knew you before you came along. We've +a wireless out on the headland."</p> + +<p>"I see. Father Adam warned you I was coming. He +told you—"</p> + +<p>"The whole darn yarn. Sure."</p> + +<p>Bull laughed grimly.</p> + +<p>"That he guessed to shoot me to small meat if I didn't +do as he said?"</p> + +<p>"If you didn't cut out homicide from your notions of—sport."</p> + +<p>"Yes. It was tough," Bull regretted. "But I'm glad—now."</p> + +<p>"Yep. Guess any straight sort of feller would feel +that way—after."</p> + +<p>The lumberman's regret was unnoticed by the other.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Bull leant forward in his chair. A smile, +half whimsical, half incredulous, lit his eyes. He thrust +his elbows on the desk and supported his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"It just beats hell!" he cried. "It certainly does. Oh, +I'm awake all right. Sure, I am. One time I wasn't +sure. Two months back I was lying around a lousy +summer camp getting ready to take a hand in the winter + +cut for the Skandinavia Corporation. I was within +two seconds of breaking a man's life—the rotten camp +boss. And now? Why, now I'm sitting around in dandy +tweeds in the boss chair of a swell office, with a crazy +notion back of my head I'm here to beat the game with +the greatest groundwood mill in the world, and ten +million dollars capital behind me. Maybe there's folks +wouldn't guess I'm awake, but I allow I am. But the +whole thing sets me thinking of the fairy stories I used +to read when I was a kid, and never could see the horse +sense in wasting time over."</p> + +<p>Bat helped himself to a chew from a fragment of plug +tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Here, listen," Bull went on, after the briefest pause. +"It's my 'show down.' I don't understand a thing. I'm +mostly a kid from college with a yearning for fight. +So far I've learned some of the things the forest can +teach the feller who wants to learn. They're the rough +things. And I like rough things. I've some grip on +groundwood. And the making of groundwood's the +main object of my life. That, and the notion of licking +hell out of the other feller. That's me, and those are the +things made Father Adam send me along down to +Sachigo. Well, it's up to you." He spread out his hands, +"Where do I stand? How do I stand? And why in +the name of all that's crazy am I sitting in this boss chair—right +now?"</p> + +<p>Bat swung one trunk-like leg across the other. His +movement suggested an easing of mind and a measure +of enjoyment. He pointed at the window and nodded +in its direction.</p> + +<p>"Quite a place," he said, in a tone and with a pride +that had no relation to the other's demands. "Makes +you feel man ain't the bum sort of inseck in the scheme +of things some highbrows ain't happy not tellin' you. +There's folks who guess it's Nature the proposition + +that matters. It's her does it all, an' keeps on doin' it +all the time. But Nature's most like one mighty foolish, +extravagant female. That sort o' woman who don't +care but to please the notion of the moment. And when +that's done, goes right on to please the next. Wal, anyway +I guess she's got her uses if it's only to hand +chances to the guy that's lookin' on. Take a look right +down there below," he went on. "That's the truck the +guy lookin' on has sweppen up in Nature's trail. It's +taken most of fifteen years collectin' it. We've had to +push that broom hard. And now I guess you're going +to boost your weight behind it too. There's other things +to collect, and that's what we want from you. You got +nerve. You got big muscle, and education, too. Well, +you'll handle the biggest sweeper of us all. Does it +scare you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a thing." Bull was smiling confidently.</p> + +<p>Bat chuckled. His eyes were sparkling as he ruthlessly +masticated his tobacco. This man pleased him +mightily.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said. Then he went on after a +silent moment while he gazed thoughtfully out of the +window. "It's right here," he exclaimed. "Here's a mill, +a swell mill that don't lack for a thing to make it well-nigh +perfect. I'll tell you about it. Its capacity. Its +present limit is six thousand tons dry weight groundwood +pulp to the week. That's runnin' full. There's a hundred +and twenty grinders feeding a hundred and eighty +sheetin' machines. And they're figgered to use up fifty-five +thousand horse power of the five hundred thousand +we got harnessed on this great little old river that +falls off the highlands. That power is ours winter an' + +summer. It don't matter a shuck the 'freeze up.' It's +there for us all the darn time. Then we've forest limits +to hand us the cordage for that output that could give us +three times what we're needing for a thousand years. + +Labour? We got it plenty. And later, by closing in +our system of foresting, I figger to cut out present costs +on a sight bigger output. The plans for all that are fixed +in my head. Then we come to the market for our stuff, +an' I guess that's the syrup in the pie. The world's +market's waitin' on us. It's ours before we start. Why? +Our power don't cost us one cent a unit. We're able to +hand our folks a standard of living through the nature +of things that leaves wages easy. The river's wide, and +full, and it's <em>our own</em>. Then our sea passage to Europe's +just eighteen hundred miles instead of three thousand. +An' these things mean our costs leave us cutting right +under other folks, and Skandinavia beat. There it is," he +cried, with a wide gesture of his knotted hands. "It's +pie!"</p> + +<p>Something of the lumberman's enthusiasm found reflection +in Sternford's eyes.</p> + +<p>"But Nature's handed us a lemon in the basket of +oranges," Bat went on, with a shake of his head. "It's +that woman in her again. Y'see, she gives us just four +months in the year to get our stuff out. Oh, she don't +freeze the cove right up. No. That's the tough of it. +The channel's mostly open. But storm, and fog, and ice, +beats the ocean-going skipper's power to navigate it +with any sort o' safety. The headlands are desperate +narrow, and—well, there it is. We've four months in the +year to get our stuff out. It's a sum. Figger it yourself. +Set us goin' full. Six thousand tons in the week. What +is it? Three hundred thousand in the year. How +many trips at ten thousand tons? Or put the average +tonnage lower. Say eight thousand. Forty trips. Four +months. A vessel making two trips on an average turn +round. We need a fleet of twenty 'bottoms,' to do it +in the time. And they'll need to be our own. You can't +help yourself to the world's market, and fix prices, and +all the while fight for shipping in the open market. See?"</p> + + +<p>"Sure—I see."</p> + +<p>Bat nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"When we get that the rest can go through. Meanwhile +there's sixty grinders idle, which leaves us workin' +half capacity. As it stands it's a dandy enterprise. +We're making a swell balance sheet. But profit ain't the +whole purpose. There's the rest."</p> + +<p>The super lumber-jack turned again to the window +with that fascination that was almost pathetic.</p> + +<p>"And the rest?"</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford urged the other sharply, and Bat turned +at once.</p> + +<p>"Canada's groundwood for the Canadian, inside the +Empire," he shot at him.</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>"The world's market for the country that can and +should supply it," he replied.</p> + +<p>"The smashing of the darn Skandinavian ring," cried +Bat, his deep-set eyes alight.</p> + +<p>"And drive them—back over the sea."</p> + +<p>Bat suddenly leant across the table.</p> + +<p>"That's it, boy," he cried. "That's it! Hellbeam +and all his gang. The Skandinavia Corporation. Smash + +'em! Drive 'em to Hell! It ain't profit. It's the trade. +The A'mighty made Canada an' built the Canadian. He +set him right here to help himself to the things He gave +him. It's being filched by these foreigners—his birthright. +They're fat on it. Did we fight the world war +for that? Not by a darn sight. We fought to hold a +place on the map for ourselves. And that's a proposition +we've all got to get our back teeth into."</p> + +<p>"It sure is."</p> + +<p>The mill manager sat back in his chair and chewed +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"That's it," he said. "How?" he went on. "Combination. +Finance—and the interest of the little, great + +old country across the water. It's all planned and laid +out by the feller that started up this proposition. It's +scheduled for you. Guess you'll find the last word of +it writ out in the locked book in this desk. It's clear +and straight for the feller with the nerve. That's you. +Wal?"</p> + +<p>Bat was watching—searching. He was looking for +that flicker of an eyelid he had learned to dread in the +past. But he failed to discover it. The wide, clear eyes +of the younger man returned his regard unwaveringly. +The uncultured lumberman had stirred a responsive enthusiasm, +and somehow the project no longer seemed the +crazy thing it had once appeared to Bull Sternford.</p> + +<p>"Guess my back teeth have got it," he said, with a +smile. "You needn't worry I'll let go."</p> + +<p>Bat drew a deep breath. He stood up and spat his +mangled chew into the cuspidore.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad. I'm real glad," he cried. "I'm a heap +more glad you told me those words without askin' the +other things you need to know. But you got to know +'em right away. Say, the day that fixes up the things +we been talkin' sees you with me and another masters of +this mill an' all it means. And while you're playin' + +your hand there's one big fat salary for you to draw. +This house and office is yours, an' me an' the mill's ready +to do all we know all the time, just the way you need it. +Down in Abercrombie there's the attorney, Charles +Nisson, who's got the outfit of papers that you're goin' +to sign. And when you seen him, why you'll get busy. +Shake, boy," he cried, thrusting out one knotted hand. +"Father Adam sent you, and I don't guess he's made any +mistake."</p> + +<p>Bull had risen, and his height left him towering over +the man across the table.</p> + +<p>"Now for the mill," he cried, as their hands fell apart. +"The <em>Myra</em> sails sundown to-morrow and I need to get a + +swift look around before then. Say, you folk have kind +of taken me on a chance—well, that's all right. I'm +glad."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_13"></a> + +<h3>Chapter IV—Drawing The Net</h3> + + +<p>Nathaniel Hellbeam was contemplating the spiral of +smoke rising from his long cigar. He was dreaming +pleasantly. He was dreaming of those successful manipulations +of finance it was his purpose to achieve. He had +lunched, so his dream was of the things which most appealed.</p> + +<p>In the midst of his reflections the drub of the muffled +telephone beat its insistent tattoo. His dream vanished, +and his senses became alert. He leant forward in his +chair and picked up the receiver.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said shortly. And it sounded more like the +Teutonic, "Ja!"</p> + +<p>Putting up the receiver again he leant his clumsy +body back in his chair. His small eyes no longer contained +their dreaming light. They were turned expectantly +upon the polished mahogany door.</p> + +<p>The door swung silently open.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Idepski!" The announcement was made in a +carefully modulated tone.</p> + +<p>The agent passed into the great man's presence, slim, +dark, confident. Then the door closed without a sound.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>There was no cordiality in the greeting. That was +not Hellbeam's way with a paid agent.</p> + +<p>Idepski walked across to the chair always waiting to +receive a visitor and sat down.</p> + +<p>"May I sit?" he inquired coolly, after the operation +had been performed.</p> + + +<p>Hellbeam nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>The agent laid his hat on the ornate desk, and removed +his gloves with care and deliberation.</p> + +<p>"I'm just back from Sachigo," he said.</p> + +<p>"Hah!"</p> + +<p>The financier settled himself more comfortably in his +chair, and returned his cigar to his gross mouth.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Easy. Things are moving our way."</p> + +<p>The dark eyes glanced over the table for the gold +cigarette box that always stood there.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," the banker ordered rather than invited.</p> + +<p>Idepski needed no second bidding.</p> + +<p>"You got all my code messages?" he asked. "Good," +as the Swede nodded. "Then you know the position +of the mill. Say, that feller Harker needs a sort of +apology from me—also from you. The mill's a wonder. +And he's the guy that's fixed it that way. You haven't +a thing in Skandinavia comparable. I'd say you haven't +a feller on your side capable of touching the fringe of +that tough's genius for organisation. It's him. Not +Martin—I mean Standing."</p> + +<p>"And Standing?"</p> + +<p>But Idepski was not to be deflected from his purpose.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said easily. "I'm coming to +him presently. I gave you, at times, the whole length +and breadth, and size, and capacity of the Sachigo of to-day. +You got all that stuff. But I've saved up the plum. +There's a new man come into it. His name's Sternford—Bull +Sternford. Guess it's him I need to tell you about +before I pass on to the other. It's taken me a while to +locate all I needed. And I guess I had luck or I wouldn't +have got it all yet."</p> + +<p>For once the man's smile reached his eyes.</p> + + +<p>"What's his position—in Sachigo?" Hellbeam demanded.</p> + +<p>"Right on top of the business side of it."</p> + +<p>"A financial man?"</p> + +<p>The banker's interest was obviously stirred. But +Idepski shook his dark head.</p> + +<p>"That's the queer of it," he said. "He's a youngster +straight out of the forest with no sort of record except +as a pretty tough fighting proposition. Here, let me +hand it to you in my own way, and I'll answer any sort of +question after. I got men chasing up the forest camps. +You know that. Well, I get their reports right here in +this city at my office. They're read carefully, and anything +that looks good is coded, and sent on to me +wherever I am. Well, right after I located this feller, +Sternford, coming into Sachigo, I got word of some stuff +reported from one of your own camps way out north-west +of Lake St. Anac. Guess it's about the farthest +north in that direction, and it's cut off from any other +camp by a hundred miles. On the face of it the stuff +didn't seem to need more than a single thought. It was +to say my man was quitting the camp. He'd sifted it +right through, but there wasn't a 'jack' in the camp with +any sort of story worth wasting paper on. There wasn't +a trace of our man that way, and he proposed drawing +another cover. At the end of his report was one of those +notes these boys never seem able to resist mixing up with +their official work. It told me of one of those scraps +that happened in the camps, and he seemed mighty struck +by it. It was between the camp boss, Arden Laval, and a +kid called Sternford. Say, when I read that name I +jumped. I felt like handing my feller promotion right +away. Well, his story was good anyway. It seems this +camp boss is about the biggest bluff in the scrap way +known to that country. The kid licked him. They +fought nearly two hours, 'rough and tough.' And the + +kid would have killed his man, but for the interference of +a missionary feller called Father Adam. He broke 'em +loose with a gun, and when he got 'em loose he took the +kid right away so he shouldn't hand out the homicide he +reckoned to. This report was more than two months old +when I got it. Anyway I got it after a feller called Bull +Sternford, a queer name by the way, had jumped in on +the Sachigo proposition."</p> + +<p>The agent flung away his cigarette and helped himself +afresh.</p> + +<p>"Well," he went on, smiling, "I guess it didn't take +me thinking five seconds. I set the wires humming +asking a description of this fighting kid. I got it. It +was my man. The feller at Sachigo. Well?"</p> + +<p>Idepski's smiling interrogation was full of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Go on." The watchful eyes of the financier seemed +to have narrowed.</p> + +<p>"Now, by what chance does this feller, Bull Sternford, +come straight from one hell of a scrap in a far-off +camp belonging to Skandinavia to run the business end +of Sachigo? What happened after that fool missionary +got him away? And—"</p> + +<p>Idepski broke off, pondering. He flicked his cigarette +ash without regard for the carpet.</p> + +<p>Hellbeam stirred in his chair impatiently. His lips +seemed to become more prominent. His small eyes +seemed to become smaller.</p> + +<p>"You ask that, yes? You?" he snorted. "A child +may answer that thing. You think? Oh, yes, you +think." The hand supporting his cigar made a gesture +that implied everything disparaging. "Our man—this +Martin—has gone out of Sachigo because—of you? I +tell you, no! Does a man give up the money, the big +plan he makes, at the sight of an—agent? He took +you in his hand and sent you to the swine life of the +forest where he could have crushed you like that." He + +gripped the empty air. "Then he goes—where? You +say he fears and quits. What does he fear? You?" +The man shook his head till his cheeks were shaken by +the violence of his movement. "He goes somewhere. +But he does not quit. That is clear. Oh, yes. The mill +goes on. It grows and prospers. The man Harker remains. +Where comes the money for Sachigo to grow? +Trade? Yes, some. But not all. I know these things. +The mill goes on—the same as with Martin there. So +Martin does not quit. He—just goes. Then who sets +this Bull Sternford in the mill? Why? He says, 'This +man can do the things I need.' Well? Say quick to +your man, 'Do not leave this camp of Skandinavia.' Martin +is there, or near by. He must know this Father +Adam, too. He must be in touch with him. Maybe he +watches the Skandinavia work. Maybe he plays his +game so. Maybe he goes from Sachigo for that reason. +Yes?"</p> + +<p>The financier's undisguised contempt left the agent +apparently undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"That's the simple horse sense of it," Idepski retorted +promptly. "I get all that. But you're wrong when +you say, Martin's playing any other game than lying low +because of one hell of a scare. I know him. You think +you know him because you can't get away from judging +a man from your end. However, that don't matter +a shuck. I've told that man of mine to stop around. +Don't worry. I told him that right away. I told him +to watch this missionary." He shook his head. "Nothing +doing. The missionary has quit. As I said, I'm +right back from Sachigo. I didn't come back just to +hand you this stuff. I'm on my way up to this camp +of yours. We've been hunting this guy eight years—blind. +Now there's a streak of daylight. I'm going for +that streak myself. Anyway, it's liable to be pleasanter +work than lumbering in the booms at Sachigo, and wondering + +when that feller Bat Harker, was going to locate +me through a lumber-jack's outfit. And while I'm up +there I mean to learn all I can of this Father Adam. I +don't look for much that way. He's just a missioner +that every feller in the forest's got a good word for, and +anyway, it don't seem to me the feller who jumped in +on you, and touched your bank roll is the sort to pass +his time handlin' out tracts to the bums of the forest. I +came in on my way to pass you these things. I go north +again to-night. I'll be away quite a while, and, shut off +up there, you'll not be likely to get word easy. But +you'll hear things when I've got anything to hand you."</p> + +<p>A sardonic light crept into Hellbeam's eyes as he +listened to the final assurance.</p> + +<p>"So," he ejaculated with a nod.</p> + +<p>The agent rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile," he said, leaning over the desk, "it +might be well for you to get a grip on the fact that +Sachigo's going right on. It's the greatest groundwood +proposition in the world. I know enough of Harker to +realise his capacity to make it do just what he needs. +And as for that other—this Sternford kid—why, I gather +he's a pretty live wire that's set there for a reason. The +slogan up there's much what it was, only the words are +changed."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam sucked his cigar and removed it from his +lips.</p> + +<p>"Changed? How?" he demanded, without suspicion.</p> + +<p>"It was 'Canadian trade for the Canadians,'" Idepski +said, his dark eyes snapping maliciously. "It's more +personal since the fighting kid came along. It reminds +me of the German slogans of the war. It's 'To hell with +the Swedes, we'll drive 'em <em>into</em> the sea.'"</p> + +<p>The financier nodded. His armour was impenetrable.</p> + +<p>"The Germans said much," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, these folks aren't Germans," came + +the prompt retort, as Idepski picked up his hat and +gloves.</p> + +<p>"No." Hellbeam remained seated. It was not his +way to speed a departing visitor. "I'm glad. Oh, yes." +He smiled into the other's face, and his meaning was +obvious. "You go to this camp. You find this missionary. +That's work for you. The other—" his +eyes dropped to the papers on the desk before him—"this +mill, this Sachigo is for me. It is much nearer +to the sea than the Skandinavia. Oh, yes."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_14"></a> +<h3>Chapter V—The Progress Of Nancy</h3> + + +<p>The girl reached out a hand in response to the ring of +the telephone. It was slim and white; and her finger +nails displayed that care which suggests a healthy regard +for the niceties of a woman's life.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Yes?"</p> + +<p>She remained silently intent upon the rapidly spoken +message coming down to her over the wire. Her deep, +hazel eyes were soberly regarding the blotting pad, +upon which an idle pencil was describing a number of +meaningless diagrams.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, after a while. "Oh, yes. All +reports are in. I've gone through them all, and my +summary is being prepared now. They're a pretty bad +story. Yes. What's that? How? Oh, yes. Some +of the camps are in pretty bad shape, I'd say. Output's +fallen badly. Output! Yes. All sorts of reasons and—" she +laughed, "—to me, none quite satisfactory. I +think I've my finger on the real trouble, and fancy I've +seen all this coming quite a while back. Very well. I'll +be right up. Yes, I'll bring my rough notes if the summary +isn't ready."</p> + + +<p>Nancy McDonald thrust the receiver back in its place +and sat for a moment gazing at it. She knew she had +committed herself. She had intended to. She knew +that she had reached one of the important milestones +in her career. In her youth, in the springtime energy +abounding in her, she meant to pit her opinion against +the considered policy of those who formed the management +of the great Skandinavia Corporation she served. +She understood her temerity. A surge of nervous anticipation +thrilled her. But she was resolved. Her +ambition was great, and her youthful courage was no +less.</p> + +<p>The brazen clack of typewriters beyond the glass +partitions of her little private office left her unaffected. +It was incessant. She would have missed it had it not +been there. She would have lost that sense of rush +which the tuneless chorus of modern commercialism +inspired. And, to a woman of her temperament, that +would have been a very real loss.</p> + +<p>The great offices of the Skandinavia Corporation, in +the heart of the city of Quebec, with their machine-like +precision of life, their soulless method, their passionless +progress towards the purpose of their organisation, +meant the open road towards the fulfilment of her desires +for independence and achievement.</p> + +<p>All the promise of her earlier youth had been abundantly +fulfilled. Tall, gracious of figure, her beauty had +a charm and dignity which owed almost as much to +mentality as it did to physical form. Yet, for all she +had already passed her twenty-fourth birthday, she was +amazingly innocent of those things which are counted +as the governing factors of a woman's life. Certainly +she knew and loved the Titian hue of her wealth of hair; +her mirror was constantly telling her of the hazel depths +of her wide, intelligent eyes, with their fringes of dark, +curling, Celtic lashes. Then the almost classic moulding + +of her features. She could not escape realising these +things. But they meant no more to her than the fact +that her nose was not awry, and her lips were not misshapen, +and her even, white teeth were perfectly +competent for their proper function.</p> + +<p>She was a happy blending of soul and mentality. +Heredity seemed to have done its best for her. The +Gaelic fire and the brilliance and irresponsibility of her +misguided father seemed to have been balanced and +tempered by the gentle woman soul of her mother. And +through the eyes of both she gazed out upon the world, +inspired and supported by a tireless nervous energy.</p> + +<p>Since the memorable day of her interview with her +appointed trustee, Charles Nisson, her development had +been rapid. The events which had suddenly been flung +into her life at the interview seemed to have unloosed a +hundred latent, unguessed emotions in her child heart, +and translated her at once into a thinking, high-spirited +woman.</p> + +<p>She honestly strove to banish bitterness against the +man who had deprived her of that mother love which +had been her childhood's treasure, but always a shadow +of it remained to colour her thought, and influence her +impulse. She had studied the deed of settlement as +she had promised. She had studied it coldly, dispassionately. +She had looked upon it as a mere document aimed +to benefit her, without regard for her feelings for the +man who had made it. She had thought over it at night +when passion was less to be controlled. She had consulted +those she had been bidden to consult, and had +listened to, and had weighed their kindly advice. And +when all was done she took her own decision as she was +bound to do. It was a decision that had no relation to +reason, only to passionate impulse.</p> + +<p>She would not accept the things the deed offered her. +She would not accept this reparation so coldly held out. + +She would not live a leisured, vegetable life, with no +greater ambition than to marry and bear children. The +simple prospect of marriage and motherhood could never +satisfy in itself. That would be a happy incident, but +not the whole, and acceptance of that deed would surely +have robbed her of the rest.</p> + +<p>There were times when she felt the disabilities of her +sex. She knew she was deprived of the physical strength +which the battle of life seemed to demand. But to her +the world was wide, and big, and, in her girl's imagination, +teeming with appealing adventure. The world +alone could not satisfy her.</p> + +<p>Once her decision was taken all the kindly efforts of +her mentors at Marypoint were rallied in her support. +They had advised out of their wisdom, but acted from +their hearts. And the day on which the principal of +the college notified her that the Skandinavia Corporation +of Quebec had signified its willingness to absorb her +into its service as typist and stenographer, at one hundred +dollars per month, was the happiest she had known +since her well-loved mother had been taken out of her +life.</p> + +<p>Now, after three years of unwearying effort, there +was still no shadow to mar her happiness, or temper +her enthusiasm. On the contrary, there was much to +stimulate both. In that brief period she had succeeded +almost beyond her dreams. Was she not already the +trusted, confidential secretary to the ruling power in +the great offices of the Skandinavia Corporation? Had +she not been taken out of the ranks of the many capable +stenographers, and been given a private office, a doubled +salary, and work to do which left her wide scope for +the play of those gifts with which she was so liberally +endowed? Yes. All these things had been showered +upon her in three years. She was a figure of authority +in the great establishment. And furthermore, the man + +she served—this man, Elas Peterman—had hinted, and +even definitely talked of, further rapid promotion.</p> + +<p>She had worked hard for it all. Oh, yes. She had +worked morning, noon, and night. When other girls +had been content to study fashions and styles, and +chatter "beaus" and husbands, she had given herself +up to the study of the wood-pulp trade, and the world's +market of the material she was interested in. She had +saturated herself with the whole scheme, and purpose, +and methods of her employers, till, as Peterman himself +had once told her in admiration at her grasp of the business, +she knew as much of the trade as he did himself. +And even after that her mirror, that oracle of a +woman's life, failed to yield her the real truth it is always +ready to tell to its devotees.</p> + +<p>The pre-occupation suddenly passed out of the girl's +eyes. She stirred. Then she stood up and collected a +number of papers into a small leather attaché case. A +moment later she pressed the bell push on the desk.</p> + +<p>Her summons was promptly answered by a slim +figured girl, with fair hair, and "jumpered" in the latest +style.</p> + +<p>"I shall be away a while. See to the 'phone, Miss +Webster," Nancy said, in a tone of quiet but definite +authority. "I shall be with Mr. Peterman. Don't ring +me unless it's something important. That summary. +Is it ready?"</p> + +<p>"It's being checked right now."</p> + +<p>"Well, speed them up. You can send it up directly +it's through. Mr. Peterman is needing it."</p> + +<p>Nancy passed out of the room. Her discipline was +strict. Sometimes it approached severity. But she +understood its necessity for obtaining results. Her +orders would be carried out.</p> + + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Elas Peterman set the 'phone back in its place. His +dark eyes were smiling. They were shining, too, in a +curious, not altogether wholesome fashion. He had +just finished talking to Nancy McDonald, and he was +thinking of the vision of red hair, of the serious hazel +eyes gazing out of their setting of fair, almost transparent +complexion.</p> + +<p>He took up his pen to continue the letter he had been +writing. But he added no word. The girl he had been +speaking with still occupied his thoughts to the exclusion +of all else.</p> + +<p>He was a good-looking man, clean cut and youthful. +His profile was finely chiselled. But his Teutonic origin +was clearly marked. It was in the straight square back +of his head. It was in the prominent, heavily, rounded +chin, and the squareness of his lower jaw. Furthermore, +the high, mathematical forehead was quite unmistakable. +There was power, force, in the personality of the man. +But there was something else. It lay in his mouth, in +his eyes. The former was gross, and definite sensuality +looked out of the latter.</p> + +<p>As the door opened to admit Nancy his pen promptly +descended on his paper. But he did not write. He +looked up with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Come right in, my dear," he said cordially, with the +patronising familiarity of a man conscious of his power. +"Just sit right down while I finish this letter." Then he +added gratuitously, "It's a rude letter to a feller I've no +use for; and I don't guess to rob myself of the pleasure +of passing it plenty to him—in my own handwriting."</p> + +<p>Nancy smiled as she took the chair beside the desk +which was usually assigned to her in her intercourse +with her chief.</p> + +<p>"I wish I felt that way writing a bad letter," she said. +"But I don't. It just makes me madder with folks, and +I go right on thinking things, and—and—it worries."</p> + +<p>Elas Peterman shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Guess you'll get over that, my dear," he said easily. +"Sure you will. You're just a dandy-minded kid, +learning the things of life. You feel good most all the +time. That's how it is. You want to laff and see +things happy all around you. Later you'll get so you +see the other feller mostly thinks of himself, and don't +care a hoot for the folks sitting around. Then you'll +feel different; and you'll tell folks you don't like the +things you feel about them."</p> + +<p>He went on writing, smiling at his own cynicism.</p> + +<p>Nancy leant back in her chair. His words left her +unaffected. She was used to him. But, for a moment, +she contemplated the dark head, supported on his hand, +without any warmth of regard.</p> + +<p>After awhile she glanced away, her gaze wandering +over the luxurious furnishings of the room. And it +occurred to her to wonder how much, if any, of the +excellent taste of the decorations owed inception to the +man at the desk. No. Not much. The cheque-book +and the decorator's artist must have been responsible. +This grossly Teutonic creature with his cynical, commercial +mind, was something of an anachronism, and +could never have inspired the perfect harmony of the +palatial offices of his Corporation. It was rather a pity. +He had been exceedingly good to her. She would have +liked to think that he was the genius of the whole structure +of the Skandinavia, even to the decorations of the +office. But it was impossible.</p> + +<p>The man blotted and folded his letter. He enclosed +and sealed it. He even addressed it himself.</p> + +<p>"I'm kind of sorry I had to break in on you while +you were fixing those reports," he said, in his friendliest +fashion. "But, you see, I'm just through with the +Board, and we took a bunch of decisions that need +handling right away. Tell me," he went on, an ironical + +light creeping into his smiling eyes, "you reckon you've +set your finger on the real trouble with our dropping +output. I want to know about it because the Board +and I can't be sure we've located it right."</p> + +<p>The sarcasm hurt. It was not intended to. Elas +Peterman had no desire in the world to hurt this girl. +A cleverer man would have avoided it. But this man +had no refinement of thought or feeling. Cynicism and +sarcasm were his substitutes for a humour he did not +possess.</p> + +<p>Nancy's cheeks flushed hotly. But she stifled her +feelings. She was confident of herself, and despite the +manner of the challenge, she knew the moment of her +great opportunity had come.</p> + +<p>With a quick movement she crossed her knees and +leant forward. She smiled in response.</p> + +<p>"Yet, it's easy," she said boldly, with bland retaliation. +"The reports are not good. And the trouble stands out +clear as daylight. I guess a big scale contour map is +the key to it. We've 'hand-weeded' the Shagaunty +Valley. It's picked bare to the bone. The folks have +cleared the forests right away to the higher slopes of +the river. We're moving farther and farther away from +the river highway. Well, that's all right in its way. +Ordinarily that would just mean our light railways are +extending farther, and a few cents more are added to +our transport costs. Owing to our concentration of +organisation that wouldn't signify. No. It's Nature, +it's the forest itself turning us down. And the map, and +the reports show that. The camps are right out on the +plateau surrounding the valley, which is unprotected +from winter storms. The close, luxurious growth of +the valley we have been accustomed to is gone. The +standing cordage of lumber is no less, only in bulk, +girth. The trees are mostly less than half the girth. +The result? Why, they have to work farther out. Each + +camp cuts over four times the area. Instead of a proportion +of, say, two trees in five, it's about one in, say, +ten. It looks like a simple sum. I should say we've +lumbered that valley at least one season too long."</p> + +<p>The man's smile had passed. There was no longer +derision in his keen eyes. He had invited this girl's +talk for the sake of hearing it. Now he was caught in +admiration of her clear perception.</p> + +<p>"Do the reports bear out those facts?"</p> + +<p>His question was sharp, and Nancy realised she had +done well.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No. They do just the thing you'd expect them to +do," she said. "They make every sort of excuse that +couldn't possibly account for the drop. And avoid the +real cause which their writers are perfectly aware of." +She shrugged her pretty shoulders. "You wouldn't +expect it otherwise. You want to remember those reports +are written by bosses who're more interested in +their own comfort than in the affairs of the Skandinavia."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Again the girl's expressive shrug.</p> + +<p>"To quit the Shagaunty and break new ground means +the break up of those amenities and comforts they've +accumulated in years. It means work, real hard work, +and discomfort for at least two seasons. You see, we +need to get into the skin of these folk. They can keep +the booms full from these forests, and the kick only +comes when the grinders get to work. Output falls +automatically with the girth of the lumber sent down. +It's a close calculation; but on the year it means a lot. +I learned that from Mr. Osbert, at the mills on the +Shagaunty. Well, so long as the booms are kept full, +the camp bosses are satisfied. There's a limit below +which the girth of logs may not go. They watch that +limit, and are careful not to go below it. Well, our big + +output has been made up always, not by the minimum +logs, but the maximum to which we have been hitherto +accustomed. These boys know all about that; but they're +satisfied with such bulk as doesn't fall below the minimum. +And when asked, suggest fire, storm and sickness, +anything rather than the real cause which drops our +output. They'll not willingly face the discomfort and +added work of opening a new territory. There's just +one decision needed."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>The girl laughed. It was a low, pleasant, happy laugh. +She felt glad. Her chief was serious. He was in deadly +earnest, and it represented her revenge for his sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"We've five other rivers running down to the lake. +The Shagaunty isn't even the largest. Well, these boys +will have to be shaken out of their dream. We ought to +quit the Shagaunty right away and make a break for +fresh 'limits.' It's simple."</p> + +<p>The man had no responsive smile. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"That's what it isn't, my dear," he said.</p> + +<p>For the time the girl's beauty, her personality were +quite forgotten. Peterman was absorbed.</p> + +<p>"It means the complete dislocation of our forest +organisation," he went on. "Here, I'll tell you something. +We've done a very great thing in the past. And +it's been easy. Years ago we decided by concentration +of all our forest work on a limited area we could cut +costs to the lowest. That way we could jump in on the +market cheaper than all the rest. Our forest limits were +the finest in Canada. We had standing stuff practically +inexhaustible, and of a size almost unheard of. What +was the result? Why, one by one we've absorbed competitors +at our own price till the Skandinavia stands +head and shoulders above the world's groundwood +industry. That's all right. That's fine," he went on, +after a pause. "But like most easy trails, you're liable + +to keep on 'em longer than is good for you. We haven't +had to worry a thing up to now. You see, we'd stifled +competition, and we'd paid a steady thirty per cent +dividend. Which left our Board in an unholy state of +dope. I've tried to wake 'em. Oh, yes. I tried when +that guy started up his outfit on Labrador. The Sachigo +outfit. Then he seemed to fade away, and I couldn't +rouse 'em again." He shook his head—"Nothing doing. +Well, for something like fifteen years those guys of +Sachigo have been doing and working; and now, to-day, +they've jumped into the market with both feet. I +haven't the full measure of things yet. But the play's +a big thing. They're out for the game we've been playing. +Say, they're combining every old mill we've left +over. All the derelicts and moth-bounds. Their hands +are out grabbing all over the country. Well, that +wouldn't scare me worth a cent, only they've never let up +in fifteen years, and there's talk about big British finance +getting behind 'em."</p> + +<p>The man broke off. His serious eyes remained steadily +regarding the girl's interested face.</p> + +<p>"You reckon this change is easy," he went on again. +"I guess it would be easy if these folk hadn't jumped +into the market. That makes all the difference. While +we're changing they're busy. Their stuff's coming down +in thousands of tons. And it's <em>better</em> groundwood than +ours. If we change over we're going to leave the market +short and these folk will get big contracts. You're right. +We've been working the Shagaunty too long. But it's +been by three or four seasons. Not one. The time's +coming, if it hasn't already come, when we've got to +fight these folks and smash 'em; or get right out of +business."</p> + +<p>Something of the girl's joy had passed in face of the +man's statement.</p> + +<p>"There's been talk of these Sachigo folk in the trade," + +she said thoughtfully, "but I didn't know it was as big +as you say. Of course—"</p> + +<p>"Sure you didn't. You haven't had to handle our +stuff on the market." The man laughed. And something +of his seriousness passed. "But you're a bright +kid. And the Skandinavia's looking for bright kids +all the time. It needs 'em to counter a doped Board. It's +taken you five minutes to locate a trouble the Board's +taken years to realise. And you've been talking one of +the bunch of decisions we've taken. I mean quitting +the Shagaunty. We didn't have your argument, but we +had the 'drop.' So the decision was taken. We've got +to move like hell. Sachigo has our measure, and it's +going to be a big fight. How'd you fancy a trip up +country? I mean up the Shagaunty?"</p> + +<p>There was a change in the man's voice and manner as +he put his demand. He was leaning forward in his +chair. A hot light had suddenly leapt into his eyes, +which left them shining unwholesomely. Nancy was +startled at his words. And his attitude shocked her not +a little out of her self-satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—. How do you mean?" she demanded +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>The man realised her astonishment and laughed. +Then he reached out, and his hand patted the rounded +shoulder nearest him. It was a touch that lingered +unnecessarily, and the girl stirred restlessly under it.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's the chance of a life—for you," he said +boisterously. "You'll go right up through the camps. +You'll take your notions with you and investigate. I'll +hand you a written commission, and the folk'll lay their + +'hands' down for you to see. When you've seen it all +you'll get right back here, and I'll set you before the +Board to tell your story. I don't need to tell a bright +girl like you what that means to you. You'll get one +dandy summer trip, and I'll lose one dandy secretary. + +But I'm not kicking. No. You see, Nancy, I'm out to +help you all you need. Well?"</p> + +<p>It was crude, clumsy. It was all so blatantly vulgar. +It was not the thing he said. It was the manner of it +and all that which was lying unspoken behind.</p> + +<p>For the first time Nancy experienced a curious uncertainty +in dealing with him. But here was real +opportunity. She had dreamed of such. And she must +take it. The touch of the man's hand upon her shoulder +had disturbed her. But she smiled her gratitude at him.</p> + +<p>"It's too good," she exclaimed, with apparent impulse. +"It's just too good of you. Will I go? Why, yes. +Surely. And I'll make good for you. I believe it's the +best thing. Someone to go who'll bring back a dead +right story. I'd be real glad."</p> + +<p>"That's bully!" The man beamed as he leant back +in his chair more than satisfied with himself. "But I +don't fancy losing my dandy secretary," he went on. +"No, sir. I'm going to hate this summer bad. I surely +am. Still, there's next winter. Winter's not too bad +with us. And a feller needs consolation in winter. +There's theatres, and ice parties, and dances, and things. +And I guess when the Board's fixed a big jump up for +you, you'll feel like getting around some. Well, I'm +mostly vacant. A feller can't live all the time at home +with his wife and kids. I guess I could show you Quebec +at night better than most—"</p> + +<p>The telephone saved Nancy the rest of the man's +rendering of his account and she breathed deeply her +relief. But the interruption was by no means welcome +to the man. And his irritation was promptly displayed +by the vindictive "Well?" he flung at the unyielding +receiver.</p> + +<p>"Oh! What's that? Who? Hellbeam? Oh. Sure. +Yes. Send him right up. Don't keep him waiting. +Right up now. Yes."</p> + + +<p>He thrust up the instrument and sat back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Curse the man!"</p> + +<p>Nancy had risen from her chair at the mention of +Hellbeam's name. She was glad enough of the excuse. +She understood Hellbeam was the great outstanding +figure in the concern of the Skandinavia. His was the +one personality that dwarfed everybody. He was the +moving power of the whole concern.</p> + +<p>"You'll let me know later?" she said. "I mean, just +when I'm to start out. I'm ready when you like. I'll +just go and see why those reports have not been sent up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't worry with the reports. You've told me +the things that matter."</p> + +<p>The man's irritation was as swift as it was violent. +But it passed as quickly as it came. He laughed.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, my dear. Be off now. I'll let you +know about things this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Nancy gladly accepted her dismissal. She wanted to +think. She wanted to get things into their proper focus. +As she closed the door behind her her beautiful eyes had +no joy in them. She had realised two things as a result of +her interview. The opportunity she had looked forward +to had materialised, and she had seized it with both +hands. But the goodness of Elas Peterman to herself +possessed none of that disinterested kindliness she had +hitherto believed. Furthermore, there was dawning +upon her that which her mirror should have told her +long ago. She was beginning to understand that her +work, her capacity, her application, counted far less in +the favour of her chief than did those things with which +nature had equipped her. She was shocked out of her +youthful dream. And it left her so troubled, that, had +she not been passing down the carpeted corridor of the +Skandinavia offices, she would have burst into a flood +of tears.</p> + + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>It was a different Elas Peterman who confronted the +squat figure of Nathaniel Hellbeam. The master in the +younger man was completely submerged. He possessed +all the Teutonic capacity for self-abnegation in the +presence of the power it is necessary to woo. There +was only one master when the great financier was present. +Elas Peterman knew that his part was to listen and obey +with just that humility which he would have demanded +had the position been reversed.</p> + +<p>Another type than Hellbeam's would have despised +the attitude. But the financier had no scruple. Nature +had denied him qualities for inspiring affectionate regard, +or even respect. But she had bestowed on him a +lust for power, and a great vanity, and these he satisfied +to the uttermost.</p> + +<p>The financier drove straight to the object of his visit.</p> + +<p>"I come for an important purpose," he said, in his +guttural fashion. "There must be a special Board +assemble. Skandinavia will buy the mill on Labrador. +The Sachigo mill. I come on the night train, which is +the worst thing I can think to do, to say this thing. If +we do not buy this mill, then—" He broke off with +an expressive gesture.</p> + +<p>Elas nodded. He was startled, but his powers of dissimulation +were profound.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he said. "They have been approached?"</p> + +<p>Hellbeam stirred his bulk in the chair Nancy had so +recently occupied. It was a movement of irritation.</p> + +<p>"That is for you. You represent Skandinavia. I—I +say this thing. I the money find."</p> + +<p>The face of Peterman was a study. His eyes were +serious, his manner calmly considering. Amazement +was struggling with a desire to laugh outright in the +face of this grossly insolent money power.</p> + +<p>"Nothing could suit us better, sir," he said, deferentially. +"They've been handing us more trouble than I + +fancy talking about. And they look like handing us still +more. These people have grown slowly, but very +deliberately. There's something very like genius in their +management. And seemingly they possess unlimited +capital or credit. I guess I know something of their +contemplated manoeuvres. They're assembling all the +free mills outside our ring. I see a great big scrap +coming. May I ask the price you're considering?"</p> + +<p>Hellbeam produced a gold cigar case. A greater man +would have been content with a certain modesty of +appointment. His case was comparable in vulgarity +with the size of his cigars. He thrust the pierced end +of the cigar between his gross lips and spoke with the +huge thing lolling.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter. I say buy."</p> + +<p>The tone, the snapping of the man's eyes forbade +further probing in this direction. He lit his cigar.</p> + +<p>"It will need careful handling," ventured Peterman.</p> + +<p>Hellbeam snorted.</p> + +<p>"It careful handling always needs. Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Surely. I was thinking."</p> + +<p>"So. You will think. Then you will act. You will +communicate forthwith. See? You listen. I buy this +Sachigo, yes. The price matters nothing. There is a +reason. This fight. It is not that. Who is the head? +I would know. I fancy this man to meet. He is what +you call—bright. So."</p> + +<p>Elas shook his head-</p> + +<p>"There are two men in it we recognise. A man named +Harker and another called Sternford—Bull Sternford. +We know little of either. You see, it's kind of far away. +Anyway, between them they're pretty—bright. I don't +think they built the mill. I'm sure that's so. It was +a man called Standing. But he seems to have gone out +of active management. I might start by writing them +and feel the way."</p> + + +<p>"Ach no!" Hellbeam shook his head in violent protest. +"You write—no. You have your confidential +man, yes? You send him. I give you the outline of +terms. I give you alternative terms. Big terms. He +will go. He will talk. He will hear. Then we will +later come to terms. All men will sell—on terms. +Your man. Where is he? I must see him. Then the +Board. It meets. I will address it. I show them how +this thing will serve."</p> + +<p>"That's all right, sir," Elas was smiling. "You +couldn't offer the Board a more welcome proposition +than the purchase of Sachigo just now. We're changing +our forest organisation right now, and that means temporary +delays and drop in output. Sachigo's our worry +while we're doing it. But with your permission I won't +send a man up there. I think," he added deliberately, +"I'd like to send a—woman."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam's face was a study. His little eyes opened +to their widest extent. His heavy lips parted, and he +snatched his cigar into the safety of his white fingers.</p> + +<p>"A—woman—for this thing? You crazy are!"</p> + +<p>There was no restraint or pretence of restraint. The +other's smile was more confident than might have been +expected before such an intolerant outburst.</p> + +<p>"Guess a woman has her limitations, sir. Maybe this +one hasn't a wide experience. But she's clever. She's +loyal to us, and she's got that which counts a whole heap +when it comes to getting a man on her side. You reckon +to buy Sachigo. If you send a man to deal he'll get +short shrift. If there's anyone to put through this deal +for Skandinavia it's the woman I'm thinking of. And +she'll put it through because she's the woman she is, and +not because of any talents. Your pardon, sir, if +I speak frankly. But from all I know of Sachigo, if +you—perhaps the king of financiers on this continent—went +to these folk and offered them double what their + +enterprise is worth, I guess they'd chase you out of +Labrador so quick you wouldn't have time to think the +blasphemy suitable to the occasion."</p> + +<p>Peterman's explanation caught the humour of his +countryman. The bulk of the visitor shook under a +suppressed laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well," he retorted, "I do not go. This woman. A +good-looker, eh? She is pleasant—to men? Where is +she? Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"She's my secretary, sir." Elas jumped at the change +of his visitor's humour. "She's not much more than a +kid. But she's quite a 'looker,' I'll send for her, if +you'll permit me. She's getting some reports for me. +I'll ask her to bring them up. You can see her then, +sir, and, if you'll forgive me, I won't present her to +you. If I do she'll guess something, and it's best she +knows nothing of this contemplated deal—as regards +you."</p> + +<p>For a moment the banker made no reply. He sat, an +adipose mass, breathing heavily, and sucking at his cigar. +Then quite suddenly, he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Send for her," he said sharply.</p> + +<p>Elas reached the telephone and rang down.</p> + +<p>"Hello! That you? Oh, will you step up a moment, +Miss McDonald? Yes. Are they ready? Good. That's +just what I want. Please. All of them."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Nancy knocked at the door and stepped into the room. +She was carrying a large typescript of many pages. It +represented many days and evenings of concentrated +labour. It had been a labour not so much of love as of +ambition. It was an exhaustive summary of the position +of the Skandinavia's forestry in the Shagaunty Valley.</p> + +<p>She missed the squat figure in the chair she usually +occupied. She saw nothing of the stare of the narrow + +eyes concentrated upon her. She saw only the tall figure +of Peterman, standing waiting for her beyond his +desk in such a position that, to reach him, she must +pass herself in review before the devouring gaze of the +great banker.</p> + +<p>She walked briskly towards him, her short skirt yielding +the seductive rustle of the silk beneath it. Her +movements were beyond words in grace. Her tall figure, +so beautifully proportioned, and so daintily rounded, +displayed the becoming coat-frock she usually wore in +business to absolute perfection.</p> + +<p>The banker's searching eyes realised all this to the +last detail. He realised much more. For his was the +regard that sought beneath the surface of things. It was +that regard which every wholesome, good woman resents. +But ultimately it was the girl's face and hair +that held him. The rare beauty of the latter's colour +sent a surge of appreciation running through his sensual +veins. And the perfect beauty, and delicate charm of +her pretty features, stirred him no less. Only her eyes, +those pretty, confident, intelligent, hazel depths he +missed. But he waited.</p> + +<p>"These are the papers, Mr. Peterman."</p> + +<p>Nancy held out the typescript to the waiting man +whose eyes had none of the smiling welcome they would +have had in Hellbeam's absence.</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Elas glanced down at the neatly bound +script.</p> + +<p>"It's all complete?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. It's the whole story. It's in tabloid form. +You will be able to take the whole close in half an hour."</p> + +<p>A rough clearing of the throat interrupted her, and +Nancy discovered the banker beside the desk. In something +of a hurry she promptly turned to depart. But +Elas claimed her.</p> + +<p>"Will you come to me after lunch?" he said pleasantly.</p> + + +<p>"I want to go into the details of that trip I explained +to you. You must get away as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"Directly after lunch?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Say three o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>The girl again turned to go, but the banker anticipated +her. As she reached the door he stood beside it, +and opened it for her to pass out. He was holding +something in his hand. It was an exquisitely formed +gold fountain-pen.</p> + +<p>"This yours is, I think," he said heavily, while his +eyes searched those depths of hazel he had missed before.</p> + +<p>The girl smiled as she gazed at the beautiful pen. +She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I never possessed anything so +beautiful in my life."</p> + +<p>"But you drop it as you come, I think, yes?" The +man's eyes were levelled at her devouringly. Quick as +thought he turned to Elas watching the scene. "Is it +yours? I see it on the carpet, yes?"</p> + +<p>The manager was prompt to take his cue.</p> + +<p>"It's not mine," he said. "It must be yours, Miss +McDonald. If it isn't I guess you'd best have it till we +find its owner."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Thanks ever so much," she said, with frank pleasure. +"I'll keep it till we find the owner. It's a lovely thing."</p> + +<p>She took the glittering pen from the fleshy fingers +holding it. And just for an instant her hand encountered +the banker's. It was only for an instant, however. A +moment later the door was closed carefully behind her by +the man who had thought Elas crazy to employ a woman.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Elas Peterman was seated behind his desk again. His +challenging smile was directed at the heavily breathing +figure of the banker who had hurried back to his chair.</p> + + +<p>The great man laughed. It was a curious, unpleasant +laugh. His heavy cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered +curiously.</p> + +<p>"You're a judge, Elas, my boy," he exclaimed, with +clumsy geniality. "Oh, yes. But you are a young man. +There is power in that young woman's eyes." He +laughed again. "Oh, no, I think of the young woman. +It not her capability is. See you look to your place in +Skandinavia. Let her go. She may not buy this Sachigo +as I think to buy it. She will buy the men we would +drive from our path."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_15"></a> +<h3>Chapter VI—The Lonely Figure</h3> + + +<p>The girl was leaning against the storm-ripped bole of +a fallen tree. The great figure of her companion was +silhouetted against the brilliant sky-line. He was contemplating +the distance at the brink of a sheer-cut ravine, +which dropped away at his feet to giddying depths.</p> + +<p>Nancy gazed out beyond him. For the moment he +held no interest for her. She only had eyes for the +splendid picture of Nature. They were on high ground, +a great shoulder lifted them clear above their surroundings. +Far as the eye could see was a lustreless green +world of unbroken forest. It seemed to have neither +beginning nor end. To the girl's imagination there could +be no break in it until the eternal snows of the Arctic +were reached.</p> + +<p>The breadth of it all was a little overwhelming. Nancy +was gazing upon just one portion of the Skandinavia's +untouched forest limits, and somehow it left her with a +feeling of protest.</p> + +<p>She pointed with one gauntleted hand, stirred to an +impulse she could not deny.</p> + + +<p>"It's too beautiful," she said. "It isn't fair: it's not +right. To think it's all ours, and we have the right to +destroy it."</p> + +<p>The man turned. He gazed back at this unusual +vision of a beautiful, well-gowned woman in the heart +of the forests. He grinned ironically, this great, rough-bearded +creature, in hard cord clothing, and with his +well-worn fur cap pressed low over his lank hair that +reached well-nigh to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he demanded roughly. "Oh, yes. It's +Skandinavia's, every mile of it. An' I guess there's +hundreds an' hundreds of 'em. Ain't that what Canada's +forests are for? To feed us the stuff we're needin'? +But you don't need to worry any. We ain't cuttin' that +stuff for years. Guess the waterways out there are +mostly a mean outfit that wouldn't raft a bunch of +lucifers. We need to wait permanent railroad for +haulage."</p> + +<p>Nancy accepted the statement without reply. It was +impossible to stir a man like Arden Laval to any sort +of sympathy. He was hardened, crude, first, last and +all the time. He was big and brutal. His limbs were +like to the trees his men were accustomed to fell, and his +hands reminded her of the hind limbs of the mutton. +She felt he had a mind that matched his physical +development.</p> + +<p>Nancy McDonald was nearing the end of her third +month of forest travel. The Shagaunty valley lay behind +her, desolated by the fierce axe of the men who +lived by their slaughter. She had seen it all. She had +studied the re-afforestation which followed on the heels +of the axemen. And the seeming puerility of this effort +to salve the wounds inflicted upon Nature had filled her +with pitying contempt.</p> + +<p>She knew the whole process of the forest industry by +heart now. It fascinated her. Oh, yes. It was picturesque, + +it was real, vital. The men on the river driving +down to the booms had stirred her greatest admiration. +These supermen with their muscles of iron, with the +hearts of lions, and the tongues and habits of beasts +of the forest. But they were men, wonderful men for +all their savage crudity. So, too, with the transporters +and freighters handling sixty-foot logs as though dealing +with matchwood. But above all, and before all, the +axemen made their appeal.</p> + +<p>There was nothing comparable with the rough skill +of these creatures, She had watched the flash and +swing of the axe, with its edge like the finest razor. She +had seen the standing muscles like whipcord writhing +under sunburnt flesh as they served the lethal weapon. +She had noted every blow, how it was calculated to a +hair's-breadth, and fell without waste of one single ounce +of power. And then the amazing result. The fallen +tree stretched out on the exact spot and in the exact +direction ready for the hauliers to bear straight away +to the final transport station.</p> + +<p>The summer days had been filled with vital interest. +And at night, weary in body, Nancy still had time, lying +in the amply, if crudely blanketed bed provided for her +in some lumber-built shanty, to contemplate the lives of +this strangely assorted race. She knew the pay of the +forest men, from the haulier to the princely axeman and +river-jack. She had seen their food, and their dwelling +accommodation. She had heard such details as were possible +of telling of their recreations, and had guessed +the rest. And for all her admiration of their manhood +she pitied, in her woman's way, and felt shame for the +slavery of it all.</p> + +<p>Oh, yes. She had no illusions. She was not weakly +sentimental. She looked at it all with wide-open eyes. +It was a well-paid animal life. It was a life of eating +well, of sleeping well, of gambling, and drinking, and + +licence. But it was a life of such labour that only perfect +physical creatures could face.</p> + +<p>She felt that these folks were wage slaves in the crudest +meaning of the words. There was nothing for them +beyond their daily life, which was wholly animal. Of +spirituality there was none. Of future there was none. +Their leisure was given over to their pastimes, while +ahead the future lay always threatening. Stiffening +muscles, disease, age. The king of them all in his youth, +in age would be abandoned and driven forth, weary in +body, aching in limbs, a derelict in the ranks of the world's +labour.</p> + +<p>She was gravely impressed by the things she saw, by +the men she met.</p> + +<p>Her summer had been an education which had stirred +feelings and sympathies almost unguessed. It was the +father, she could scarcely remember, making himself +known to her. For all the ambitions firing her, the long, +fascinating days in the forests of the Shagaunty had +taught her of the existence of an "underdog," who, in +himself, was the foundation upon which the personal +ambition of the more fortunate was achieved. Without +him to support the whole edifice of civilisation must +crash to the ground, and life would go back again to the +bosom of that Nature from which it sprang.</p> + +<p>Her realisation inspired her with an added desire. It +was a desire coming straight from an honest, unsophisticated +heart. She registered a vow that whithersoever +her ambitions might lead her, she would always remember +the "underdog," and work for his betterment and greater +happiness.</p> + +<p>"So you can only cut the stuff here within reach of +our light haulage system?" Nancy demanded at last. +"The rest's gone. The real big stuff, I mean, down below +in the valley. We're just driven to the plateau where the +cut looks to me more like one in twenty than any better?"</p> + + +<p>Arden Laval left his position at the brink of the ravine. +He came back to the girl in her modish costume that +seemed so out of place beside the rough clothing that +Covered his body.</p> + +<p>"Why, I guess that's so," he said. "Still, it's a deal +better than one in twenty." He laughed. "Sure. If +it wasn't the darn booms 'ud need to go hungry."</p> + +<p>The man's French temperament left him more than +appreciative of the beauty he beheld. But he was +wondering. He was searching his shrewd mind for the +real explanation of Nancy's presence in these forests. To +him it was amazing that the Skandinavia should send +this girl, this good-looker, on a journey through their +forests alone. He would willingly have asked the question. +But he remembered her written commission, +signed by Elas Peterman. So he was left with no alternative +but to yield the utmost respect.</p> + +<p>"Y'see, mam," he went on easily. "I guess I could +talk quite a piece on this thing, but maybe you won't +fancy my dope. Skandinavia's been badly spoilt by the +cut in the Shagaunty Valley. You've seen it all. Guess +you've come right through. Well, that being so, you'll +understand the Shagaunty cut's been far above average. +Now we're down to average. That's all. That's how +the Skandinavia's been spoilt."</p> + +<p>He thrust his cap back from his forehead. It was a +movement of irritation. Then he produced a plug of +tobacco from his hip-pocket, and bit off a chew.</p> + +<p>"I've been twenty odd years lumbering," he went on +a moment later. "I've lumbered most every forest in +Ontario and Quebec. "There ain't more'n one bunch of +plums like the Shagaunty. Mostly the forest's full of +the sort of stuff we're handling here. These forests are +average and I'd like to say to the Skandinavia, 'you've +got to figger results on the average.' We're cutting down +to the minimum because we've got to, to feed the booms + +right. Well, that's goin' on if I know my job. There's +patch stuff better. I daresay there's new ground on +our limits liable to hand us Shagaunty stuff. But that's +just as I say, patch stuff, an' not average. If they want +Shagaunty quality right through let 'em get out and +get limits up on Labrador. I reckon there's a hundred +years cutting up there that 'ud leave Shagaunty a bunch +of weed grass. They say the folks out on the coast are +worried to death there's so much stuff, an' so big, an' + +good, an' soft, an' long-fibred. The jacks out that way +are up to the neck in a hell of a good time, sure. I get it +they've time to sleep half the year, it's so easy. Well, +it ain't that way here. We've no time singing hymns +around this lay-out. It's hell, here, keeping the darn +booms fed. Speakin' for my outfit I'd say they're a pretty +bright lot of boys. What a feller can do they can do, I +guess. But there are times I get mighty sick chasing to +get even the minimum. An' it's all the time kick. The +Skandinavia seems to have got a grouch about now you +couldn't beat with a tank of rye whisky. You've seen +it all as far as I can show you, mam, and I'd be glad to +know if you're satisfied I've done the things you want. +If I have, and you feel good about it, I'd be thankful if +you'd report the way we're workin' this camp. And if +you've a spare moment to talk other things, you might +say that the boys of my camp are mighty hard put to get +the stuff, and they're as tough a gang of jacks as ever +heard tell of the dog's life of the forest."</p> + +<p>The man spoke with the fluency of real protest. He +somehow felt he was on his defence in the presence of +this woman representative of his employers. This girl +was not there enduring the discomforts of the forests for +amusement. She came with authority, and she seemed +to possess great understanding. Arden Laval knew his +own value. His record was one of long service with his +company. Furthermore, his outfit was trusted with the + +pioneering work of the forest where judgment and enterprise, +and great experience were needed. He felt it was +the moment to talk, and to talk straight to this woman +with the red hair who had invaded his domain. So he +gave full rope to his feelings.</p> + +<p>It was some moments before the girl replied, and the +man waited expectantly. He was studying the far-off +gaze of the pretty hazel eyes, and wondering at the +thought moving behind them. At length Nancy withdrew +her gaze from the forest.</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly report the things I've seen," she said +with a smile that found prompt response in the man's +dark eyes. "You've certainly done your best to show +me, and tell me, the exact position. I shall make a point +of reporting all that. Yes, I've seen it all, thank you very +much."</p> + +<p>Then her smile suddenly vanished. The shrewd gaze +of commercial interest replaced it.</p> + +<p>"But these Labrador folk?" she demanded. "Is that +stuff just—hearsay?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head. He was feeling easier.</p> + +<p>"It's God's truth, mam." He spat out a stream of +tobacco juice. "I know them forests. Say," his eyes +had lost their smile, "I don't guess I figger to know the +business side of things, I don't calculate to know if the +folks on Labrador work with, or against the Skandinavia. +But I do know that if they're up against us they've got +us plumb beat before we start. They got the sort of +lumber the jacks dream about when they got their bellies +full on a Saturday night, and they're going to wake up to +find it Sunday mornin'. I'm just a lumberman, and if I +hadn't fifteen years' record with the Skandinavia, and +wasn't pouching two hundred and fifty bucks, and what +I can make besides, a month, why, it 'ud be me for the +coast where you can jamb the rivers in a three months' + +cut, and souse rye the rest of the year till the bugs look as + +big as mountains. Guess it's the summer rose garden of +the lumber-jack, for all it's under snow eight months in +the year, when you can't tell your guts from an iceflow, +and the skitters, in summer, mostly reach the size of a +gasoline tank. It's a dog's life, mam, lumberin' anywhere. +But they're lap-dogs out that way."</p> + +<p>The man's words brought the return of the girl's smile. +"Yes, I spose it's—tough," she observed thoughtfully. +Then quite suddenly she spread out her hands. +"Oh, yes," she exclaimed, with a sudden vehemence, +"it's worse than tough. It's hopeless. Utterly hopeless. +I've seen it. I've watched it. I had to. I couldn't +escape it. It's so desperately patent. But it's not the +life as these folk live it. It's the future I'm thinking of. +It's middle life and old age. These boys. They're wonders—now. +How long does it last, and then—what +happens? I'm here on business, hard business. But I +guess this thing's got hold of me so I can't sometimes sleep +at nights. Tell me about them."</p> + +<p>Arden Laval, one of the hardest specimens of the +lumber boss, turned away. His understanding of women +was built up out of intimacy with the poor creatures +who peopled the camps he knew. This girl's burst of +feeling only stirred him to a cynical humour.</p> + +<p>"Mam," he said, with a grin that was almost hateful, +"if I was to start in to hand you the life history of a +lumber-jack you'd feel like throwing up your kind heart, +and any other old thing you hadn't use for in your +stummick. But I guess I can say right here, a lumber-jack's +a most disgustin' sort of vermin who hasn't more +right than a louse to figger in your reckonin'. I guess he +was born wrong, and he'll mostly die as he was born. +And meanwhile he's lived a life that's mostly dirt, and +no account anyway. There's a few things we ask of a +lumber-jack, and if he fulfils 'em right he can go right +on living. When he can't fulfil 'em, why, it's up to him + +to hit the trail for the pay box, an' get out. Guess you +feel good when you see a boy swingin' an axe, or handlin' + +a peavy. Sure. That sort of thing don't come your +way often. Neither does it come your way to see the +rest. He's mostly a sink of filth in mind and body, and +if he ain't all that at the start he gets it quick. He's a +waster of God's pure air, and is mostly in his right surroundings +when the forest does its best to hide him +up from the eyes of the rest of the world. Guess he's the +best man I know—dead."</p> + +<p>For all his grin Arden Laval was in deadly earnest. +Nancy stared at the broad back he had turned on her +with his final word. And her indignation surged.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," she cried. "I can't believe it. +You're just talking out of years of experience of a life +you've probably learned to hate. Man, if that's your +opinion of your fellows, then it's you who ought never +to leave the forest you claim does its best to hide up folk +from the eyes of the rest of the world. You're a camp +boss. You're our head man in these forests. You're +trusted, and we know your skill. Well, it seems to me +you've a duty that goes further than just feeding the +booms right. You've a moral duty towards these men +you condemn. You can help them. It should surely +be your pride to lift them out of the desperate mire you +claim they are floundering in. I'll not believe you mean +it all."</p> + +<p>The man turned away as a black-clothed figure +emerged from the trees, and came to a stand at the brink +of the ravine some hundred and more yards to the east +of them. Nancy, too, beheld the lonely figure and she, +too, became interested in its movements.</p> + +<p>The lumber boss laughed shortly, roughly, and raised +an arm, pointing as he turned a grinning face to the girl.</p> + +<p>"See him, there?" he cried. "Say, mam, with all +respect, I'd say to you, if you're feeling the way you + +talk, and look to get the sort of stuff you'd maybe fancy +hearing, that's the guy you need to open out to. As +you say, I'm the head camp-boss on the Skandinavia's +limits. I've had nigh twenty years an' more experience +of the lumber-jack. An' I'm tellin' you the things any +camp-boss speakin' truth'll tell you. That's all, I +don't hate the boys. I don't pity 'em. But I don't +love 'em. They're just part of a machine to cut lumber, +and it don't matter a hoot in hell to me what they are, +or who they are, or what becomes of 'em. I ain't shepherdin' + +souls like that guy. It ain't in me, anyway. I +just got to make good so that some day I ken quit these +cursed forests and live easy the way I'd fancy. When +that time comes maybe I'll change. Maybe I'll feel like +that guy standin' doping over that spread of forest scene. +I don't know. And just now I don't care—a curse."</p> + +<p>But Nancy was no longer listening. The lonely, black-coated +figure Laval had pointed out absorbed all her +interest. His allusion to the man's calling had created +in her an irresistible desire.</p> + +<p>"Who is he? That man?" she demanded abruptly.</p> + +<p>Laval laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why, Father Adam," he replied. There was a curious +softening in his harsh voice, which brought the girl's +eyes swiftly back to him.</p> + +<p>"Father Adam? A priest?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>Laval shook his head. He had turned again, regarding +the stranger. His face was hidden from the searching +eyes of the girl.</p> + +<p>"I just can't rightly say," he demurred. "Maybe +he is, an' maybe he ain't. But," he added reflectively +"he's just one hell of a good man. Makes me laff sometimes. +Sometimes it makes me want to cry like a kid +when I think of the things he's up against. He's out for +the boys. He's out to hand 'em dope to make 'em better. +Oh, it ain't Sunday School dope. No. He's the kind o' + +missioner who does things. He don't tell 'em they're a +bum lot o' toughs who oughter to be in penitentiary. But +he makes 'em feel that way—the way he acts. He's +just a lone creature, sort of livin' in twilight, who comes +along, an' we don't know when he's comin'. He passes +out like a shadow in the forests, an' we don't see him +again till he fancies. He's after the boys the whole darn +time. It don't matter if they're sick in body or mind. +He helps 'em the way he knows. An', mam, they just +love him to death. There's just one man in these forests +I wouldn't dare blaspheme, if I felt like it—which I +don't. No, mam, my life wouldn't be worth a two +seconds buy if I blasphemed—Father Adam. He's one +of God's good men, an' I'd be mighty thankful to be like +him—some. Gee, and I owe him a piece myself."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's interest was consuming.</p> + +<p>"Why, only he jumped in once when I was being +scrapped to death. He jumped right in, when he looked +like gettin' killed for it. And," he laughed cynically, "he +gave me a few more years of the dog's life of the forest."</p> + +<p>The girl moved away from her support.</p> + +<p>"I want to thank you, Mr. Laval, for the trouble +you've taken, and the time you've given up to me." The +hazel eyes were smiling up into the man's hard face. "I +don't agree with some of the things you've just been +telling me; I should hate to, anyway. I don't even believe +you feel the way you say about your men. Still, +that's no account in the matters I came about. The +things I've got to say when I get back are all to your +credit. I'm going over now to talk to—Father Adam. +And you needn't come along with me. You see, you've +fired my curiosity. Yes, I want to hear the stuff I fancy +about the—boys. So I'll go and talk to your—shepherd +of souls. Good-bye."</p> + + +<p>Nancy's eyes were bright and smiling as she gazed up +into the lean, ascetic face of the man in the black, semi-clerical +coat. His garments were worn and almost +threadbare. At close quarters she realised an even +deeper interest in the man whose presence had wrought +such a magical change in the harsh tones of the camp-boss. +He was in the heyday of middle life, surely. His +hair was long and black. His beard was of a similar hue, +and it covered his mouth and chin in a long, but patchy +mass. His eyes were keen but gentle. They, too, were +very dark, and the whole cast of his pale face was curiously +reminiscent.</p> + +<p>"I just had to come along over, sir," she said. "I +was with Mr. Laval, and he told me of the work—the +great work you do in these camps. Maybe you'll forgive +me intruding. But you see, I've come from our headquarters +on business, and the folk of these camps interest +me. I kind of feel the life the boys live around these +forests is a pretty mean life. There's nothing much to +it but work. And it seems to me that those employing +them ought to be made to realise they've a greater responsibility +than just handing them out a wage for work +done. So when I saw you come out of the forest and +stand here, and Mr. Laval told me about you, I made +up my mind right away to come along and—speak to +you. My name's McDonald—Nancy McDonald."</p> + +<p>It was all a little hasty, a little timidly spoken. The +dark eyes thoughtfully regarding the wonder of red hair +under the close fitting hat were disconcerting, for all +there was cordiality in their depths.</p> + +<p>At Nancy's mention of her name, Father Adam instantly +averted his gaze, and dropped the hand which +he had taken possession of in greeting. It was almost +as if the pronouncement had caused him to start. But +the change, the movement, were unobserved by the girl.</p> + +<p>"And you are—Father Adam?" she asked.</p> + + +<p>The man's gaze came quickly back.</p> + +<p>"That's how I'm known. It—was kind of you to come +along over."</p> + +<p>In a moment all the girl's timidity was gone. If the +man had been startled when she had announced her name, +he displayed perfect ease now.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Nancy went on, with a happy laugh, +"I almost got mad with Laval for his cynicism at the +expense of the poor boys who work under his orders. +But I think I understand him. He's a product of a life +that moulds in pretty harsh form. He doesn't mean +half he says."</p> + +<p>"I'd say few of us do—when we let our feelings go." +Father Adam smiled back into the eyes which seemed to +hold him fascinated. "You see, Laval's much what we +all are. He's got a tough job to put through, and he +does his utmost. He's a big man, a brave man, a—yes, +perhaps—a harsh man. But he couldn't do his job as +he's paid to do it if he weren't all those things." He +shook his head. "No, I guess we can't play with fire +long without getting a heap of scars." He shrugged. +"But after all I suppose it's just—life. We've got to +eat, and we want to live. We don't need to judge too +harshly."</p> + +<p>"No. That's how I feel about the boys—he so condemned."</p> + +<p>The girl turned away gazing pensively over the forest. +Father Adam was free to regard her without restraint. +With her turning the whole expression of his eyes had +changed. Incredulous amazement had replaced his smiling +ease.</p> + +<p>"Would you care to come along through the woods +to my shanty, Miss McDonald?" he said, almost diffidently, +at last. "Maybe I've a cup of coffee there. And +I'd say coffee's the most welcome thing on earth in these +forests. It's a pretty humble shanty but, if you feel like + +talking things, why, I guess we can sit around there +awhile."</p> + +<p>The girl snatched at the invitation.</p> + +<p>"I was just hoping you'd say something that way," +she laughed readily. "I'd give worlds for a cup of coffee, +and I guess the folks in the forests of Quebec know more +about coffee in half a second than we city folk know in a +year. Which way?"</p> + +<p>"It's only a few yards. You'd best follow me."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The girl stood amazed. She was even horrified. She +was gazing in through the opening of the merest shelter, +a shelter built of green boughs with roof and sides of +interlaced foliage. True it was densely interlaced, but +no sort of distorted imagination could have translated +the result into anything but a shelter. Habitation was +out of the question. She stared at the primitive, less +than aboriginal home, of the priestly man. She stared +round her at the undergrowth upon which were spread +his brown coarse blankets airing. She looked down at +the smouldering fire between two granite stones upon +which a tin of coffee was simmering and emitting its +pleasant aroma upon the woodland air. It was too crude, +too utterly lacking in comfort and even the bare necessites +of existence.</p> + +<p>The man emerged from the interior bearing two +enamelled tin cups. He realised the amazement with +which Nancy was regarding his home, and shook his head +with a pleasant laugh as he indicated two upturned boxes +beside the fire.</p> + +<p>"You'd best sit, and I'll tell you about it," he said. +"It's not exactly a swell hotel, is it? But it's sufficient."</p> + +<p>The girl silently took her seat on one of the boxes. +Father Adam took the other. Then he poured out two +cups of coffee, and passed a tin of preserved milk across + +to the girl. There was a spoon in it. After that he produced +a small tin of sugar and offered that.</p> + +<p>You see, it's all I need," he said, in simple explanation. +"When the rain comes I mostly get wet, except +at nights when I get under my rubber sheet. But, anyway, +there's plenty of sun to dry me. Oh, winter's different. +I cut out a dug-out then, and burrow like the +rest of the forest creatures. But, you see, this thing +suits me well. I'm never long in one place. I've been +here two weeks, and I pull out to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You pull out? Where to?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I just pass on to some other camp. The boys +are pretty widely scattered in these forests. You'd never +guess the distances I sometimes make. Even Labrador. +But it doesn't much matter. I've a good smattering of +physic, and the boys are always getting hurt one way and +another. I'd hate to feel I couldn't go to them wherever +they are. Maybe if I built a better house I'd not want +to leave it. It would be hard getting on the move. You +see, I get their call any old time. Maybe it comes along on +the forest breezes," he said whimsically. "Then I have +to be quick to locate it, and read it right."</p> + +<p>The girl had helped herself to milk and sugar, and +sipped the steaming coffee. But she was listening with +all her ears and thinking feverishly. This strange creature, +with his deprecating manner, and smiling, sane +eyes, filled her with a sense of shame at his utter selflessness.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"You mean they—always want help?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Same as we all do."</p> + +<p>Father Adam sipped his coffee appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"But tell me," he said. "It's kind of new the Skandinavia +sending a woman along up here. It's your first +trip?"</p> + +<p>Nancy set her cup down.</p> + + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"They're a great firm," Father Adam went on, reflectively. +"I mean the—extent of their operations."</p> + +<p>Nancy smiled.</p> + +<p>"I like the distinction. Yes, they're big. You don't +like their—methods?"</p> + +<p>It was the man's turn for a smiling retort.</p> + +<p>"Their methods?" he shook his head. "I don't know, +I guess they pay well. And their boys are no worse +treated than in other camps. They employ thousands. +And that's all to the good."</p> + +<p>"But you don't like them," Nancy persisted. "I can +hear it in your voice. It's in your smile. Few people +like the Skandinavia," she added regretfully.</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>Like a shot the challenge came, and Nancy found herself +replying almost before she was aware of it.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why shouldn't I? They've been good to +me. More than good, when those who had a right to +be completely deserted me. No. I mustn't say just +that," she hurried on in some contrition. "They provided +for me, but cut me out of their lives. Maybe you +won't understand what that means to a girl. It meant +so much to me that I wouldn't accept their charity. I +wouldn't accept a thing. I'd make my own way with +the small powers Providence handed me. So I went to +the Skandinavia who have only shown me the best of +kindness. Well, I'm frankly out for the Skandinavia +and all their schemes and methods in consequence. It's +not for me to look into the things that make folks hate +them. That's theirs. My loyalty and gratitude are all +for them for the thing they've done for me. Isn't that +right?"</p> + +<p>"Surely," the man concurred. "But your coffee. It's +getting cold," he added.</p> + +<p>Nancy hastily picked up her cup.</p> + + +<p>"Why am I telling you all this?" she laughed. "We +were going to talk of the—boys."</p> + +<p>"We surely were." Father Adam laughed responsively. +"But personal interest I guess doesn't figure to +be denied for long. We sort of get the notion we can +shut it out. But we can't. We try to guess there's other +things. Things more important. Things that matter a +whole lot more." He shook his head. "It's no use. +There aren't. I guess it doesn't matter where we look. +Self's pushing out at every angle, and won't be denied. +It would be hypocrisy to deny it, wouldn't it? It's the +biggest thing in life. It's the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"And it's such a pity," Nancy agreed slyly. "Just +think," she went on, "I've got a hundred notions for +the good of the world. These boys for instance. I'd +like to make their lives what they ought to be. Full of +comfort and security and—and everything to make it +worth while. Instead of that my first and whole concern +is to make good for Nancy McDonald. To do all +those things for her. It's dreadful when you think of it, +isn't it?" She sighed. "I want to do good to the—the +'underdog,' and all the time I'm planning for myself. +I want to fight all the time for those who hold opportunity +out to me. It doesn't really matter to me why the +Skandinavia is disliked. They give me opportunity. I +reckon they've been good to me. So I'm their slave to +fight for them, and work for them, whatever their +methods. Yes. It's too bad," she laughed frankly. "I +can't deny it. I'd like to, but—I can't."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Father Adam set down his empty cup, and sat with +his arms resting on his parted knees. His hands were +clasped.</p> + +<p>"You remind me of someone," he said, in his simple +disarming fashion. "Queerly enough it's a man. A +strong, hard, kindly, good-natured man. I found him + +without a thought but to make good. And I knew he +would make good. Then it came my way to show him +how. I offered him a notion. The notion was fine. +Oh, yes—though I say it. It was the sort of thing if it +were carried to success would hand the fellow working it +down to posterity as one of his country's benefactors. +The notion appealed to him. It stirred something in +him, and set fire to his enthusiasm. He jumped for it. +Why? Was it the thought of doing a great act for his +country? Was it for that something that was all good +stirring in him? No. I guess it was because he was a +strong, physical, and spiritual, and mental force concentrated +on big things, primarily inspired by Self. Personal +achievement. It seems to me the good man always +does what's real and worth while in the way of helping +himself."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I think I understand." The girl nodded. "And +this strong physical, and spiritual, and mental force? +Have I heard of him? Is he known? Has he achieved?"</p> + +<p>"He's carrying on. Oh, yes." Father Adam paused. +Then he went on quickly. "You don't know him yet. +But I think you will. He's out on the coast of Labrador. +He's driving his great purpose with all his force through +the agency of a groundwood mill that would fill your +Skandinavia folk with envy and alarm if they saw it. +He's master of forests such as would break your heart +when compared with these of your Skandinavia. His +name's Sternford. Bull Sternford, of Sachigo."</p> + +<p>At the mention of Sachigo, Nancy's eyes widened. +Then she laughed. It was a laugh of real amusement.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's queer. It's—I'm going right on there +from here. I'm going to meet this very man, Sternford. +They tell me I've just time to get there and pull out +again for home before winter freezes them up solid. +So he is this great man, with this great—notion. Tell +me, what is he like?"</p> + + +<p>"Oh, he's a big, strong man, as ready to laugh as to +fight."</p> + +<p>Father Adam smiled, and stooped over the fire to +push the attenuated sticks of it together.</p> + +<p>"May I ask why you're going to Sachigo?" he asked, +without looking up.</p> + +<p>Just for a moment Nancy hesitated. Then she +laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you shouldn't," she cried. "There's +no secret. Skandinavia intends to buy him, or crush +him."</p> + +<p>The man sat up.</p> + +<p>"And you—a girl—are the emissary?"</p> + +<p>Incredulity robbed the man of the even calmness of' +his manner.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why not?"</p> + +<p>The challenge in the girls's eyes was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"You won't buy him," Father Adam said quietly. +"And you certainly won't crush him."</p> + +<p>"Because I'm a girl?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I was thinking of the Skandinavia." The +man shook his head. "If I'm a judge of men, the crushing +will be done from the other end of the line."</p> + +<p>"This man will crush Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>The idea that Skandinavia could be crushed was quite +unthinkable to Nancy. It was the great monopoly of the +country. It was—but she felt that this lonely creature +could have no real understanding of the power of her +people.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he returned quietly. "But that," he added, +with a return of his pleasant smile, "is just the notion +of one man. I should say it's no real account. Yes, you +go there. You see this man. The battle of your people +with him matters little. It will be good for you to see +him. It—may help you. Who can tell? He's a white +man, and a fighter. He's honest and clean. It's—in + +the meeting of kindred spirits that the great events of +life are brought about. It should be good for you both."</p> + +<p>"I wonder?" Nancy rose from her chair.</p> + +<p>The man rose also.</p> + +<p>"I think so," he said, very decidedly.</p> + +<p>The girl laughed.</p> + +<p>"I hope so. But—" She held out her hand. "Thank +you, Father," she said. "I'll never be able to think of +the things I'm set on achieving without remembering +our talk—and the man I met in the forest. I wish—but +what's the use? I've got to make good. I must. +I must go on, and—do the thing I see. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Father Adam was holding the small gauntleted hand, +and he seemed loth to release it. His eyes were very +gentle, very earnest.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry to remember, child. Don't ever think +about—this time. It won't help you. You've set your +goal. Make it. You will do the good things you fancy +to do, though maybe not the way you think them. It +seems to me that 'good' mostly has its own way all the +time. You can't drive it. And the best of it is I don't +think there's a human creature so bad in this world, +but that in some way God's work has been furthered +through his life. Good-bye."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>For some moments the lonely figure stood gazing down +the woodland aisles. The deep, shining light of a great +hope was in his eyes. A wonderful tender smile had +dispersed the shadows of his ascetic face. At length, +as the girl's figure became completely swallowed up in +the twilight of it all, he turned away and passed into the +foliage shelter which was his home.</p> + +<p>He was squatting on his box, and the small canvas +bag containing his belongings was open beside him. Its +contents were strewn about. He was writing a long + +letter. There was several pages of it. When he had +finished he read it over carefully. Then he carefully +folded it and placed it in an envelope, and addressed it. +It was addressed:</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">MR. BULL STERNFORD,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Sachigo, Farewell Cove,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Labrador.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_16"></a> +<h3>Chapter VII—The Skandinavia Moves</h3> + + +<p>Bat gazed up at the wooded ridge. They were standing +in the marshy bottom of a natural hollow amidst a +sparse scattering of pine and attenuated spruce. Beyond +the ridge lay the waters of the cove. And to the +left the broad waters of the river mouth flowed by. It +was a desolate, damp spot, but its significance to the two +men studying it was profound.</p> + +<p>Skert Lawton, the chief engineer of Sachigo, tall, +loose-limbed, raw-boned, watched his superior with somewhat +mournful, unsmiling eyes. There was something +of deadly earnest in his regard, something anxious. +But that was always his way. Bat had once said of +him: "Skert Lawton's one hell of a good boy. But I +won't get no comfort in the grave if I ain't ever see him +grin." There was not the smallest sign of a smile in +him now.</p> + +<p>"It's one big notion," Bat said, at last. Then he +added doubtfully. "It comes mighty nigh being too big."</p> + +<p>Lawton emitted a curious sound like a snort. It was +mainly, however, an ejaculation of violent impatience. +Bat turned with a twinkling grin, surveying the queer +figure. His engineer was always a source of the profoundest + +interest for him. Just now, in his hard, rough +clothing, he might have been a lumber-jack, or casual +labourer. Anything, in fact, rather than the college-bred, +brilliant engineer he really was.</p> + +<p>Bat's doubt had been carefully calculated. He knew +his man. And just now as he awaited the explosion he +looked for, his thoughts went back to a scene he had +once had with a half drunken machine-minder whom +he had had to pay off. The man had epitomised the chief +engineer's qualities and character, as those who encountered +his authority understood them, in a few lurid, +illuminating phrases. "You know," he had said, "that +guy ain't a man. No, sir. He's the mush-fed image +of a penitentiary boss. I guess he'd set the grease box +of a driving shaft hot with a look. His temper 'ud burn +holes in sheet iron. As for work—work? Holy Mackinaw! +I've worked hired man to a French Canuk mossback +which don't leave a feller the playtime of a nigger +slave, but that hell-hired Scotch machine boss sets me +yearnin' for that mossback's wage like a bull-pup chasin' + +offal. I tell you right here if that guy don't quit his notions +there'll be murder done. Bloody murder! An' it's a +God's sure thing when that happens he'll freeze to death +in hell. It don't rile me a thing to be told the things he +guesses my mother was. Maybe that's a matter of +opinion, and, anyway, she's mixin' with a crop of +angels who don't figger to have no truck with Scotch +machine bosses. I guess a sight of his flea-bitten features +'ud set 'em seein' things so they wouldn't rec'nise their +harps from frypans, and they'd moult feathers till you +wouldn't know it from a snowfall on Labrador. But when +he mixes his notions of my ma with 'lazy'! Lazy! Lazy! +Gee! Why, if I signed in a half hour late from that +bum suttler's canteen, I guess it was only the time it took +me digestin' two quarts of the gut-wash they hand out +there in the hope you won't know it from beer. No, + +sir, 'lazy son-of-a-bitch' from that guy is the talk no +decent citizen with a bunch of guts is goin' to stand +for."</p> + +<p>Skert Lawton was known for a red-hot "burner," a +"nigger driver." No doubt he was all this in addition to +his brilliant attainments as an engineer. But the methods +he applied to others he applied to himself. And the +whole of him, brain and body, was for the enterprise +they were all engaged in. Bat had intended to goad +the demon of obstinate energy which possessed the man, +and he succeeded.</p> + +<p>Skert flung out his hand in a comprehensive gesture.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he cried. "That's no sort of talk anyway. +I've been weeks on this thing. And I've got it to the +last fraction. Big notion? Of course it is. Aren't +we mostly concerned with big notions? Here, what are +you asking? An inland boom with capacity for anything +over a million cords. Well? It's damn ridiculous +talking the size of the notion. This hollow is fixed right. +Its bed is ten feet below the bed of the river. It's surrounded +with a natural ridge on all sides a hundred and +fifty feet high. There's a quarter mile below the hollow +and the river bank, and the new mill extensions are just +to the east of this ridge. It's well-nigh child's play. +Nature's fixed it that way. Two cuttings, and a race-way +on the river. We flood this. Feed it full of lumber in +the summer with surplus from the cut and you've got +that reserve for winter, so you can keep every darn +machine grinding its guts out. What's the use talking? +Big notion? Of course it is. We're out for big notions +all the time. That's the whole proposition. Well?"</p> + +<p>Bat grinned at the heated disgust in the man's tone.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like eatin' pie," he retorted aggravatingly. +"The cost? The labour? Time? You got those +things?"</p> + +<p>"It's right up at your office now." Skert's eyes + +widened in surprise at such a question. "It's not my +way to play around."</p> + +<p>"No." Bat's eyes refused seriousness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, psha! This is no sort of time chewing these +details. It's figgered to the last second, the last man, +the last cent. I brought you to see things. Well, you've +seen things. And if you're satisfied we'll quit right +away. I've no spare play time."</p> + +<p>There was no pretence of patience in Skert Lawton. +He had looked for appreciation and only found doubt. He +moved off.</p> + +<p>Bat had done the thing intended. He had no intention +of hurting the man. He understood the driving +power of the mood he had stirred.</p> + +<p>They moved off together.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Skert," he said kindly. "You've +done one big thing. An' it's the thing Bull and I +want—"</p> + +<p>"Then why in hell didn't you say it instead of talking—notions?"</p> + +<p>For all the sharpness of his retort, Skert was mollified. +Bat shook his head and a shrewd light twinkled in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're a pretty bright boy, Skert," he said. "But +you're brightest when you're riled."</p> + +<p>They had gained the river bank where booms lined +the shore, and scores of men were rafting. They had left +the water-logged hollow behind them, and debouched +on the busy world of the mill. Ahead lay the new extensions +where the saws were shrieking the song of their +labours upon the feed for the rumbling grinders. It +was a township of buildings of all sizes crowding about +the great central machine house.</p> + +<p>They crossed the light footbridge over the "cut in" +from the river, and moved along down the main highway +of the northern shore.</p> + + +<p>Both were pre-occupied. The engineer was listening +to the note of his beloved machinery. Bat was concerned +with any and every movement going on within +the range of his vision. They walked briskly, the lean +engineer setting a pace that kept the other stumping +hurriedly beside him.</p> + +<p>Abreast of the mill they approached a new-looking, +long, low building. It was single storied and lumber +built, with a succession of many windows down its +length. The hour was noon. And men were hurrying +towards its entrance from every direction.</p> + +<p>Bat watched interestedly.</p> + +<p>"They seem mighty keen for their new playground," +he said at last, with a quick nod in the direction of the +recreation house.</p> + +<p>The engineer came out of his dream. His mournful +eyes turned in the direction indicated and devoured the +scene. Then he glanced down at the squat figure stumping +beside him.</p> + +<p>"Guess that's so. But not the way you figgered when +you got that fool notion of handing 'em a playhouse," +he said roughly. "If you pass a hog a feather bed, it's +a sure thing he'll work out the best way to muss it quick."</p> + +<p>"How? I don't get you?"</p> + +<p>There was no humour in Bat's eyes now.</p> + +<p>"They call it a 'Chapel'," Skert said dryly. "They've +surely got preachers, but they don't talk religion. Maybe +that's sort of new to you, here. It isn't across the water +where I come from. Guess you think those boys are +racing out to get a game of checkers, or billiards, or cards, +or some other fool play you reckoned to hand 'em to +make 'em feel good." He shook his head. "They're not. +They've turned their 'Chapel' into a sort of parliament. +Every dinner hour there's a feller, different fellers most +all the time, gets up and hands 'em out an address. It's +short, but red hot. The afternoon shift in the mill is + +given up to brightening up their fool brains on it. And +when evening comes along, and they've their bellies full +of supper and beer, they get along to the 'Chapel' and +they debate the address, handing out opinions and notions +just as bellies guide 'em."</p> + +<p>"And the addresses. What are they mostly? On +the work? The trade they're working at?"</p> + +<p>A world of pity looked out of Skert's eyes as he surveyed +the man he believed to be the greatest organiser +the mill industry had ever seen. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Work? Not on your life! Socialism, Communism—Revolution!"</p> + +<p>Bat spat out a stream of tobacco juice. He was startled.</p> + +<p>"But I ain't heard tell of any sort of unrest gettin' + +busy. We're payin' big money. It's bigger than the +market. They got—"</p> + +<p>"Best talk to Sternford when you get back up there +to your office. He's got the boys sized right up to the +last hair of their stupid heads. But I'll hand you something +I've reckoned to hand you a while back, only I +wanted to be sure. There's nothing of this truck about +the 'hands' of the old mill. It's the new hands you've +been collecting from the forests. We've grown by two +thousand hands in the past year or so. And they're so +darn mixed I wouldn't fancy trying to sort 'em. They +come from all parts. The world's been talking revolution +since ever these buzzy-headed Muscovites reckoned +to start in grabbing the world's goods for themselves. +Well, it's a hell of a long piece here to Labrador, but +it's found its way, and the mutton-brained fools who're +supposed to play around that shanty you handed 'em +are recreating themselves talking about it in there. Here, +come right over to that window. It's open."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Skert was enjoying himself. Certainly his +mournful eyes were less mournful as he led his chief +over to the open window. Bat had had his innings with + +him. He was planning the game and hitting hard in +his turn.</p> + +<p>"The enemy of the world, of more particularly the +worker is the—CAPITALIST!"</p> + +<p>The words were hurled from the platform of the +recreation room at the heads of the listening throng +below and reached the open window just as Lawton and +his chief came up to it. There was applause following +this profound announcement, and Skert turned on his +companion.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he demanded, in a tone of biting triumph.</p> + +<p>They had reached the window at the psychological +moment. Nothing could have suited his purpose better.</p> + +<p>Bat turned away abruptly. It was as if some fierce +emotion made it impossible for him to remain another +second. His heavy brows depressed, and his deep-set eyes +narrowed to gimlet holes. Skert pursued him. Once clear +of the window, and beyond earshot, Bat flung his reply +with all the passionate force of his fighting nature.</p> + +<p>"The lousy swine!" he cried. "I'll close that place +sure as—hell."</p> + +<p>Skert shook his head as they walked on.</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," he said. "Guess you aren't crazy. +You'll talk this over with Sternford. And when you've +talked it some, you'll keep that place running, and let +them talk. It's best that way. But I've got tab of most +of the speakers, and I've located where they come from. +Most of them have sometime worked for the Skandinavia. +Maybe that's the reason of their talk. Maybe +even Skandinavia's glad they're talking that way here +on Labrador. I don't know. But—well, I'll have to quit +you here. They're setting up the two big new machines, +and it don't do leaving them long. So long. Anything +else you need to know about that recreation room, why, +I guess I can hand it to you."</p> + + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford laid the telegram aside while a shadowy +smile hovered about his firm lips. Then he settled himself +back in his chair, and gave himself up to the thoughtful +contemplation of the brilliant sunlight, and the perfect, +steely azure of the sky beyond the window opposite him.</p> + +<p>The change in the man was almost magical. The +hot-headed, determined, fighting lumber-jack whom +Father Adam had rescued from furious homicide had +hidden himself under something deeper than the veneer +which the modest suit of conventional life provides. It +was the subtle change that comes from within which had +transformed him. It was in his eyes. In the set of his +jaws. It was in the man's whole poise. His resources +of spiritual power; his mental force; his virility of +personality. All these things were concentrated. They +were no longer sprawling, groping, seeking the great +purpose of his life as they had been in the lumber camp +of the Skandinavia.</p> + +<p>A feeling akin to triumph filled the man's heart as he +gazed out upon the pleasant light of Labrador's late +summer day. In something like twelve months he had +thrust leagues along the road he meant to travel. And +his progress had been of a whirlwind nature. It had +been work, desperate, strenuous work. It had been the +double labour of intensive study combined with the necessary +progress in the schemes laid down for the future +of Sachigo. It had only been possible to a man of his +amazing faculties, combined with the fact that Bat +Harker and the mournful Skert Lawton had left him +free from the clogging detail of the mill organisation and +routine.</p> + +<p>In twelve months he had crystallised the dreams and +projects of his predecessor in the chair he was now +occupying. In twelve months he had built up the shell +of the great combination of groundwood and paper mills +which was to have such far-reaching effect upon the paper + +trade of the world. And now, ahead of him was spread +out the sea of finance upon which he must next embark. +He felt that already giant's work had been done. But +his yearning could never be satisfied by a mere measure +of completion. He must embrace it all, complete it all.</p> + +<p>Already he seemed to have lived with bankers and +financial specialists, but he felt it was only the beginning +of that which he had yet to do. He was unappalled. +He was more than confident. He had discovered unguessed +faculties for finance in himself. He had surprised +himself as well as those others with whom he had +come in contact. They had discovered in him all that +which Father Adam had been so prompt to realise. They +had found in him a young, untrained mind, untrained in +their own calling, whose natural aptitude was amazing, +and whose courage and confidence were beyond words. +But greatest of all was the perception he displayed. They +realised he never required the telling of more than half +the story. Intuition and inspiration completed it for +him without the labour of their words. The result of +those twelve months was there for all to see. The +lumberman had been translated into a hard, fighting, +business man.</p> + +<p>The train of the man's thought was broken by the +unceremonious entry of Bat Harker. Bull turned. One +swift glance into the grizzled face warned him his +associate's mood was by no means easy. He, like everyone +who came into contact with Bat, had learned to +appreciate the volcanic fires burning under the lumberman's +exterior.</p> + +<p>Bull promptly fended any storm that might possibly +be brewing. He held up his telegram and his eyes were +smiling.</p> + +<p>"The Skandinavia's on the move," he cried. And +Bat recognised the battle note in the tone.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + + +<p>Bull flung the message across the desk.</p> + +<p>"The Skandinavia's representative is arriving on the +<em>Myra</em>," he said. Then he added, "Elas Peterman +says so."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>Bat had picked up the message and stood reading it.</p> + +<p>The other searched amongst his papers.</p> + +<p>"I kind of forgot putting you wise before," he said. +"There were two letters came along a week back. One +was from Elas Peterman, of the Skandinavia folk, and +the other from Father Adam. That message was +'phoned on from the headland. The letters didn't just +concern a deal, so I set 'em aside. This message is +different."</p> + +<p>For the moment the affairs down at the recreation +room were forgotten, and Bat contented himself with +the interest of the moment.</p> + +<p>"How?" he demanded again in his sharp way.</p> + +<p>Bull laughed.</p> + +<p>"Here," he cried, holding out the letters he had found. +"I best pass you these. That's from Peterman. There's +not much written, but a deal lies under the writing. +You'll see he asks permission for a representative of the +Skandinavia to wait on us. I wirelessed back, 'I'd just +love to death meeting him.' By the same mail came +Father Adam's yarn. An' I guess that's where the soup +thickens. He says some woman's coming along from the +Skandinavia folk. He guesses they're going to put up +some proposition that looks like butting in on the plans +laid out for Sachigo. But that don't seem to worry him +a thing. I guess his letter wasn't written to hand us +warning. He seems concerned for the woman. You'll see. +He asks me to treat her gently. Firmly, yes. But also, + +'very, very gently.' He says, 'you see, she's a woman'."</p> + +<p>Bull waited while the other perused both letters. Then, +as Bat looked up questioningly, he went on:</p> + + +<p>"That telegram got here half an hour back," he said. +Then he shrugged. "The woman's on the <em>Myra</em>, and the +vessel's been sighted off the headland. She'll be along +in two hours."</p> + +<p>"And what're you doin' about it?"</p> + +<p>Bat's eyes were searching. Perhaps Father Adam's +letter had told him something it had failed to tell the +other.</p> + +<p>"I'll see her right away," Bull laughed. "If she +feels like stopping around and getting a sight of the +things we're doin' she's welcome. She can put up at +the visitor's house. It 'ud do me good for her to pass +the news on to the folk she comes from."</p> + +<p>But Bat's manner had none of the light confidence of +the other. Bitter hatred of the Skandinavia was deeply +ingrained in him. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Keep 'em guessin'," he said. "It'll worry 'em—that +way."</p> + +<p>Then he passed the letters back, and dropped into the +chair that was always his.</p> + +<p>"But this woman," he went on, in obvious puzzlement. +"It's—it's kind of new, I guess. Then there's +Father Adam's message. That don't hand us much."</p> + +<p>Bull's lightness passed.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "that message is queer. He knows +about it. Yet he hasn't given her name or said a thing. +Say—I like that phrase though. What is it? He says, +'treat her very, very gently—you see, she's a woman.' +That's Father Adam right thro'—sure. But—well it's a +pity he don't say more."</p> + +<p>Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"You'll go along down an' meet her?"</p> + +<p>"No." Bull shook his head decidedly. "You will."</p> + +<p>Bat's eyes twinkled with a better humour than they had +hitherto displayed.</p> + +<p>"Why—me?"</p> + + +<p>"She comes from the Skandinavia. Guess Skandinavia +would fancy me meeting their representative at the quay—quite +a lot."</p> + +<p>The argument met with Bat's entire approval. He +pulled out a silver timepiece and consulted it.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said, "I'll quit you in ha'f an +hour. Say—I'm kind of guessin' there's other representatives +of the Skandinavia around. I didn't guess ther' + +was much to Sachigo that I wasn't wise to. But that +boy, Skert Lawton, showed me a play I hadn't a notion +about. It's that darn play shanty I set up for the boys. +I feel that mad about it I got a notion closing it right +down. It worried me startin' it. It worries me more +now. You see, I guess it's come of me lappin' up the +ha'f-baked notions you find wrote in the news-sheets. +Folks seem to be guessin' the worker needs somethin' +more than his wage. They guess he's gotten some sort +of queer soul needin' things he can't pay for. I allow I +hadn't seen it that way myself. It mostly seemed to me a +hell of a good wage and a full belly was mostly the need +of a lumber-jack, and a dead sure thing all he deserved. +But I fell for the news-sheet dope, an' set up that cursed +recreation shanty. Now we're goin' to git trouble."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>Bull's ejaculation was sharp.</p> + +<p>"They hold meetings there. They dope out Capital and +Labour stuff there, instead of pushing games at each other. +Guess they got the bug of politics an' are scratching +themselves bad. It ain't the old Labrador guys, Skert +says. It's mostly new hands passin' their stuff on. Skert +reckons we got a whole heap of the Skandinavia 'throw-outs,' + +around here now. That don't say Skandinavia's +workin' monkey tricks. Though they might be. You +see, this sort of dope's been talked most everywhere, +except on Labrador, years now. I guess we need to go +through the bunch with a louse comb. But maybe the + +mischief's done. I'm dead crazy to shut that darn place +down."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" Bull was emphatic. "Shut it down and +you'll make it a thousand times worse. No, sir. Let +'em shout. Let 'em blow off any old steam they need. +Just sit tight. If it's the usual hot air there's nothing +much coming of it up here on Labrador. There's this +to remember. We're a thousand miles of hell's own +winter, and a pretty tough sea, from the politicians who +spend their lives befooling a crowd of unthinking muttons. +Pay 'em well, and feed 'em well, and they've the horse +sense to know there ain't no electric stoves out in the +Labrador forests in winter. That way we don't need +to worry. If it's the Skandinavia tricks it's different. +They'll play the game to the finish. It don't signify a +curse if you close down the recreation shanty or not. +We've got to meet it as a competition, and fight it the way +we'd fight any other."</p> + +<p>Bat's eyes snapped.</p> + +<p>"That's the kind of dope Skert Lawton's handed me," +he protested.</p> + +<p>"And Skert's a wise guy," came the prompt retort.</p> + +<p>Quite suddenly Bat flung out his gnarled hands.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he cried violently. "Have we got to sit +around like mush-men, while the rats are chawin' our +vitals. Fifteen or sixteen year I've handled this lay-out +without a growl I couldn't kick plumb out o' the feller +who made it. Now—now, because of a fool play I made, +I've got to set the kid gloves on my hands, sayin' 'thank +you,' while the boys git up and plug me between the +eyes. No, sir. It ain't my way. It's me for the shot +gun in the stern of the gopher all the time. It's me to +mush up the features of any hoboe who don't know +better than to grin when I'm throwin' the hot air. I +can't stand for the politics of labour where I hand out +the wage. A man's a man to me, not one darn slobber + +of policy. I'm goin' to jump in on that talk. And +when I'm thro'—"</p> + +<p>"You'll get all the trouble in the world plumb on your +neck." Bull's fine eyes were alight with humour. He +revelled in the fighting spirit of the older man. "Here, +Bat," he cried, "I'm a fool kid beside you. I don't +begin to know my job when I think of you. But I'm +up sides with all the politics games. Politics are ideals, +notions. They haven't real horse sense within a mile. +They're just the fool thoughts of folk who haven't better +to do than sit around and think, and talk, an' see how +they can make other folk conform to the things they +think. That's all right. It's human nature in its biggest +conceit, or it's another way of helping themselves +without pushing a shovel. It don't matter which it is. +But what I want to impress on you is, it's the biggest +thing in life. It's the whole thing in life. Get a notion +and think it hard enough, and talk it hard enough, and +you'll hypnotise a hundred brains bigger than your own, +and sweep the crowd with you. You'll even hypnotise +yourself into believing the truth of a thing your better +sense knows isn't true, never was true, an' couldn't be +true anyway. And when you're fixed that way you'll +die for your notion. Oh, a politician ain't yearning for +any old grave. He wouldn't get an audience there. +Politicians 'ud hate to die worse than a condemned man. +But that's the queer of it; he'd die rather than give up a +notion he's built up. He'd hate to death to push a blue +pencil through it and—try again. All of which means, +bar the doors of this recreation room parliament, and +you'll start up a hundred such parliaments, and worse, +throughout your enterprise here on Labrador, and you'll +finish by wrecking the whole blessed concern."</p> + +<p>If Bull looked for yielding he was disappointed. But +he appreciated the twinkle that had crept into the lumberman's +stern eyes. The answer he received was a curiously + +expressive grunt as the man took out his timepiece +and consulted it. When he saw him rise abruptly +from his chair, Bull felt that if his talk had not had the +effect he desired it had not been wholly wasted.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll git goin'," Bat said shortly. Then he +glanced out of the window, where he could plainly see +the stream of the <em>Myra's</em> smoke as she came down the +cove. "I'll bring your lady friend right up. Maybe +she'll fancy the dope, which I 'low you can hand out +good an' plenty."</p> + +<p>With this parting shot he hurried from the room, and +Bull fancied he detected the sound of a chuckle as the +man departed.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_17"></a> +<h3>Chapter VIII—An Affair Of Outposts</h3> + + +<p>The business of making fast the vessel had no interest +for Nancy McDonald. The thing that was about her, +the thing that had leapt at her out of the haze hanging +over the waters of Farewell Cove, as the <em>Myra</em> steamed +to her haven, pre-occupied her to the exclusion of everything +else. Her feelings were something of those of the +explorer suddenly coming upon a new, unguessed world.</p> + +<p>"Old Man" Hardy was at her side, waiting for the +adjustment of the gangway. He was quietly observing +her with a sense of enjoyment at the obvious surprise +and interest she displayed. Besides, her beauty charmed +him for all his years. And then had she not been entrusted +to his especial care by those people who held +powerful influence in all concerning the coastal trade upon +which he was engaged?</p> + +<p>Sachigo was not only a mill. It was a—city. This +was the sum of Nancy's astonishing discovery. And the +picture of it held her fascinated. She commented little, + +she had questioned little of the old skipper at her elbow. +The thing she saw was too overwhelming. Besides, +reticence was impressed upon her by the nature of her +visit.</p> + +<p>"It's a mighty elegant place," the seaman said at last.</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. Then she smiled.</p> + +<p>"I've seen trolley cars on the seashore. I've seen +electric standards for lighting. What am I to see next +on—Labrador?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Captain Hardy laughed.</p> + +<p>"You've to see the folks who've done it all," he replied. +"And—there's one of 'em."</p> + +<p>He indicated the squat figure of Bat Harker leaning +against some bales piled on the quay. Nancy turned in +that direction.</p> + +<p>She discovered the rough-clad, almost uncouth figure +of Bat. She noted his moving jaws as he chewed vigorously. +She saw that a short stubble of beard was growing +on a normally clean-shaven face, and that the man's +clothing might have been the clothing of any labourer. +But the iron cast of his face left her with sudden qualms. +It was so hard. To her imagination it suggested complete +failure for her mission.</p> + +<p>"Is he the—owner? Is he—Mr. Sternford?" Her +questions came in a hushed tone that was almost awed.</p> + +<p>"No. That's Bat—Bat Harker. He's mill-boss."</p> + +<p>"I see." There was relief in Nancy's tone. But it +passed as the seaman continued.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's waiting for you though. Are they wise +you're coming along? You don't see Bat around this +quay without he's lookin' for some folk to come along +on the <em>Myra</em>."</p> + +<p>The gangway clattered out on to the quay, and the +man moved toward it.</p> + +<p>We best get ashore," he said. "You see, mam, my +orders are to pass you over to the folks waiting for + +you. That'll be—Bat. He'll pass you on to Sternford. +I take it you'll sleep aboard to-night. Your stateroom's +booked that way. We sail to-morrow sundown, which +will give you plenty time looking around if you fancy +that way. I allow Sachigo's worth it. One day it'll be +a big city, if I'm a judge. Will you step this way?"</p> + +<p>The seaman's deference was obvious. But Nancy +remained oblivious to it. To her it was just kindliness, +and she was more than grateful. But his final remark +about Sachigo left her pathetically disquieted. For the +first time in her life she doubted the all-powerful position +of the people to whom she had sold her services.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks," she returned, smiling to disguise her +feelings. Then she added, "I'm glad we don't sail till +to-morrow evening. You see, I couldn't leave—this, +without a big look around."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The ship-master had hurried away.</p> + +<p>Bat's deep-set eyes were steadily regarding the beautiful +face before him. He was gazing into the hazel depths +of Nancy's eyes without a sign. He had noted everything +as the girl had come down the gangway. The +height, the graceful carriage in the long plucked-beaver +coat which terminated just above the trim ankles in their +silken, almost transparent, hose. Not even at Captain +Hardy's pronouncement of her name had he yielded a +sign. And yet—</p> + +<p>"Miss—Nancy McDonald?"</p> + +<p>Bat's tone had lost its usual roughness. His mind had +leapt back over many years to a time when he had been +concerned for that name in a way that had stirred him to +great warmth. He smiled. It was a baffling, somewhat +derisive smile.</p> + +<p>"You're the lady representing the—Skandinavia?" +he added.</p> + + +<p>"Why, yes," Nancy cried, "and I feel I want to thank +you for the privilege of obtaining even an outside view +of your wonderful, wonderful place here."</p> + +<p>Bat raked thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin.</p> + +<p>"If you feel that way, Miss, it'll hand me pleasure to +show you and tell you about things," he said. "You +come right out of what the folks around here like to call +the enemy camp, but it don't matter a little bit. Not +a little bit. The whole of Sachigo's standin' wide open +for you to walk through." Then he dashed his hand +across his face to clear the voracious mosquitoes. "But +if we stop around here mor'n ha'f another minute, the +memory you'll mostly carry away with you from Labrador'll +be skitters—an' nothing much else. Will you +come right along up to Mr. Sternford's office? It's quite +a piece up the hill, which helps to keep it clear of skitters +an' things?"</p> + +<p>Nancy laughed. Her early impression of the super-lumberjack +had passed. The man's smile was beyond +words in its kindliness. His deep, twinkling eyes were +full of appeal.</p> + +<p>"Why, surely," she assented. "If you'll show me the +way I'll be glad. The flies and things are certainly thick, +and as I intend leaving Sachigo with happy memories, +well—"</p> + +<p>"Come right along. I'm here for just that purpose."</p> + +<p>As they made their way up the woodland trail they +talked together with an easy intimacy. Nancy was +young. She was full of the joy of life, full of real enthusiasm. +And this rough creature with his ready smile +appealed to her. His frank, open way was something +so far removed from that which prevailed under the +Skandinavia's rule.</p> + +<p>For Bat, the walk up from the quayside was one of the +many milestones in his chequered life. He talked readily. +He listened, too. But under it all his thought was busy. + +The mystery of Father Adam's letter was no longer a +mystery. He understood. But he was also puzzled. +How had this thing come about? How had Father +Adam learned of this visit? How had this girl become +representative of the Skandinavia? A hundred questions +flashed through his mind, for none of which he could find +a satisfactory answer. But he smiled to himself as he +thought of that last line in Father Adam's letter. "Treat +her gently—firmly, yes—but very gently. You see, she's +a—woman."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>It was a moment likely to live with both in the years +to come. For Nancy it was at least the final stage of +her apprenticeship, the passing of the portal beyond +which opened out the world she so completely desired to +take her place in. Did it not mean the moment of +shouldering the great burden of responsibility she had +so steadfastly trained herself to bear? For Bull Sternford +it had no such meaning. His powers had long +since been tested. As a meeting with the representative +of a rival enterprise it was merely an incident in the life +to which he had become completely accustomed. Its significance +lay in quite another direction.</p> + +<p>Bat had taken his departure. He had witnessed the +meeting of Nancy with this protégé Father Adam had +sent him from the dark world of the forests. And his +witness of it had been with twinkling eyes, and the happy +sense of an amusement he had never looked to discover in +the presence of a representative of the Skandinavia. In +an unexpressed fashion he realised he was gazing upon +something in the nature of a stage play.</p> + +<p>He had found Bull transformed. The office suit was +gone. The man's hair was carefully brushed. He even +suspected the liberal use of soap and water. And then, +too, the heavy, rough boots had given place to shining +patent leather. The youth and human nature of it + +pleased him. So he had departed to the workshops below +with a voiceless chuckle, and a greater appreciation +of the inevitability of the things of life.</p> + +<p>Apart from Nancy's appreciation of that meeting, +the woman in her sought to appraise the man she beheld. +Her impression was far deeper than she knew. The +height and muscular girth she beheld left her with a +feeling that she was gazing upon one of the pictures +her school-girl mind had created for the great men of +Greek and Roman history. The clean-shaven, clear-cut +face, with its fine eyes and broad brow, its purposeful +mouth; these were details that had to be there, and +were there. And somehow, as she realised them, and +the sense of the man's power and personality forced +itself upon her, her original confidence still further +lessened, and she wondered not a little anxiously as to +the outcome of this interview she had sought.</p> + +<p>As for the man, his eyes had calmly smiled his spoken +greeting. His handshake had been conventionally firm. +But behind the mask of it all was one great surge of +feeling. The vision of a beautiful, fur-coated figure, with +the peeping lure of pretty ankles, the warm cap pressed +low on the girl's head as though endeavouring to hide +up the radiant framing of the sweetest, most beautiful +face he felt he had ever seen, dealt all his preconceived +purpose for the interview one final, smashing blow.</p> + +<p>"I'm real glad to welcome you to Sachigo," he had +begun. Then in a moment, the conventional gave place +to the man in him. "But say," he added with a pleasant +laugh, "we've a big piece of talk to make. You best let +me help you remove that coat. The stove we always +need to keep going here on Labrador makes this shanty +hot as—very hot."</p> + +<p>The manner of it sent convention, caution, business +pose, scattering to the winds. The girl laughed and +yielded.</p> + + +<p>"Why, thanks," she said readily. "I'm glad you +reckon we're to make a big talk. You see," she added +slyly, "I've been looking out of the window, and there's +quite a drop below. Up to now I felt my fur might—be +useful."</p> + +<p>Bull laughed as he laid the coat aside. He had drawn +up a comfortable lounging chair which Nancy was prompt +to accept. For himself he stood at the window.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes." He smiled. "I'd say it's a wise general +who looks to his retreat before the encounter. I'd sort +of half forgotten you come from the—Skandinavia."</p> + +<p>"But I hadn't."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>They both laughed. Nancy leant back in her chair. +Her pose was all unconscious. She had toiled hard to +keep pace with the sturdy gait of Bat in the ascent from +the quay. Now she was glad of the ease the chair +afforded.</p> + +<p>"Why did you say that?" Nancy asked a moment later.</p> + +<p>Bull spread out his great hands.</p> + +<p>"The Skandinavia don't usually let folks forget they're +behind them."</p> + +<p>"Now that's just too bad. It—it isn't generous," the +girl said half seriously.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Bull left the window and took the chair that was +usually Bat's. He set it so that he could feast his eyes +on the beauty he found so irresistible.</p> + +<p>"You see," he went on, "I've got a right to say that +all the same. It's not the—the challenge of a—what'll +I say—competitor? I once had the honour of drawing +a few bucks a month on the paysheets of the Skandinavia. +And folks reckoned, and I guess I was amongst 'em, that +Skandinavia said to its people: 'Make good or—beat it.' +That being so it makes it a sure thing they're not liable +to leave you forgetting who's behind you."</p> + +<p>His smile had gone. He was simply serious. This +man had worked for her people, and Nancy felt he was +entitled to his opinion.</p> + +<p>"That's going to make my talk harder," she said. "I'm +sorry. But there," she went on. "It doesn't really matter, +does it? Anyway I want to tell you right away of the +craze the sight of your splendid Sachigo has started buzzing +in my head. Say, Mr. Sternford, it beats anything I +ever dreamed, and I want to say that there's no one in the +Skandinavia, from Mr. Peterman downwards, has the +littlest notion of it. It's not a mill. It's a world of real, +civilised enterprise. And it's set here where you'd look +for the roughest of forest life. I just had no idea."</p> + +<p>It was all said spontaneously. And the pleasure it gave +was obvious in the man's eyes. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "The construction of this mill, here +on Labrador, isn't short of genius by a yard. And the +genius of it lies where you won't guess."</p> + +<p>Nancy's pretty eyes were mildly searching.</p> + +<p>"You're the head of Sachigo," she suggested.</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes lit.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he cried, "an' I'm mighty proud that's so. +But I'm not the genius of this great mill. No. That +grizzled, tough old lumberman who toted you along up +from the quayside is the brain of this organisation. He's +a—wonder. There's times I want to laff when I think of +it. There's times I'm most ready to cry. You see, you +don't know that great feller. I'm just beginning to guess +I do. He's a heart as big as a house, and the manner to +scare a 'hold-up.' He's the grit of a reg'ment of soldiers +and the mutton softness of a kid girl. He's the brain of +a Solomon, and the illiteracy of a one day school kid. +He's all those things, and he's the biggest proposition in +men I've ever heard tell about. It's kind of tough. Don't +you feel that way? He'll suck a pint of tobacco juice in +the day, and blaspheme till your ears get on edge. And + +while your folks are guessing he'll put through a proposition +that 'ud leave ha'f the world gasping."</p> + +<p>Nancy stirred. This man's whole-hearted appreciation +of another was something rather fine in her simple +philosophy. The last thing she had contemplated in +approaching the head of a rival enterprise was such talk +as this. But somehow it seemed to fit the man. Somehow +as she noted the squarely gazing eyes, and the power +in every line of his features, she realised that whatever +lines he chose to talk on, nothing could change the decision +lying behind it all. She liked him all the better for +that, and found herself drawing comparison between him +and Elas Peterman to the latter's detriment.</p> + +<p>"I like that," she cried impulsively. Then the colour +rose in her cheeks at the thought of her temerity. "I +guess he's all you say. Maybe some day I'll hear his +side of things. I'd like to. You see—I felt I'd known +him years when he brought me in here. Maybe you won't +understand what that implies."</p> + +<p>"I think I do."</p> + +<p>Bull stood up from his chair and passed round his desk.</p> + +<p>"Here, say, Miss McDonald," he went on, in his keen +fashion. "You come from Skandinavia. And I guess +you come on a pretty stiff proposition. It's going to be +difficult for you to hand it me. Maybe you're young in +the game. Well, it doesn't matter a thing. Now we're +going to start right in talking that proposition, and I'm +going to help you. But before that starts I just want to +say this. You, I guess, are going right back on the <em>Myra</em> +and she sails to-morrow, sundown. That means you'll +stay a night in Sachigo—"</p> + +<p>"I'm stopping on the vessel. It's all fixed."</p> + +<p>Bull sat down at his desk.</p> + +<p>"I'm kind of glad," he said, with a shade of relief. +"It isn't that you aren't welcome to all the old hospitality +Sachigo can hand you. You're just more than welcome. + +But Bat hasn't built his swell hotel yet," he laughed. +"And as for us here, why, we 'batch' it. There isn't +a thing in skirts around this place, only a Chink cook, +a half-breed secretary, and a clerk or two, and a bum sort +of decrepit lumber-jack who does my chores. So you +see I'm—kind of relieved. Anyway you sleeping on the + +<em>Myra</em> makes it easy. Now there's a mighty big conceit +to me, and it's all for this mill in our country's wilderness. +And I just can't let you quit to-morrow night +without showing you all it means. You've simply got +to see the thing that's going to make the whole world's +groundwood trade holler before we're through. You're +my prisoner until you've seen the things I'm going to +show you. Is it anyway agreeable?"</p> + +<p>Nancy smiled delightedly.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't drive me out of Sachigo till I've peeked +into all your secrets down there," she said.</p> + +<p>Bull leant forward with his arms outspread across the +desk.</p> + +<p>"Great!" he cried. "And," he added, "you shall see +them all. The things I can't show you Bat will. And if +I'm a judge that old rascal'll be tickled to death handing +his dope out to you. But—let's get to business."</p> + +<p>Nancy sat up. In a moment all ease was banished. +She knew the great moment had come when she must +prove herself to those who had entrusted her with her +mission.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, almost hurriedly. "I don't know the +word Mr. Peterman sent you. And anyway it doesn't +matter. I must put things my way. You are a great +enterprise here. We are a great enterprise. It looks to +us a pretty tough clash is bound to come between us in +the near future, and—there should be no necessity for it. +There's room—plenty of room—for both of us in our +trade—"</p> + +<p>She paused. The keen eyes of Bull were closely + +observing. He realised her attitude. Her words and tone +were almost mechanical, as though she had schooled herself +and rehearsed her lesson. And her voice was not +quite steady. He jumped in with the swift impulse of a +man whose rivalry could not withstand that sign of a +beautiful girl's distress.</p> + +<p>"Here," he cried, with that command so natural to +him. "Just don't say another word. Let me talk. I +guess I can tell you the things it's up to you to hand +me. It'll save you a deal, and it'll hand me a chance to +blow off the hot air that's mostly my way. This is the +position. Peterman's wise to the things doing right here. +The Skandinavia's up against years of cutting on the +Shagaunty. The Shagaunty's played right out. You +folks have got to open new stuff. It's my job to know all +this. Very well. As I said, Peterman's at last got wise +to us. He knows we look like flooding the market, and +jumping right in on him. So—you're a mighty wealthy +corporation—he figures to recognise us, and embrace us—with +a business arrangement. That so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A business arrangement."</p> + +<p>The girl's relief was almost pathetic. Bull smiled.</p> + +<p>"That's so. A business arrangement. Should I +entertain one, eh? That's the question you're right here +to ask. And you want to take back my answer." He +paused. "Well, you're going to take back my answer. +And I kind of feel it's the answer you'll like taking back. +Say, Miss McDonald, I'm only a youngster, myself, but +I guess I know what it means to set out on a work hoping +and yearning to make good. Will it make good for you +to go back to Elas Peterman and say the feller at Sachigo +is coming right along down by the <em>Myra</em> to-morrow, and +would be pleased to death to talk this proposition right out +in the offices of the Skandinavia? Will it?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's eyes lit. Their hazel depths were wells of +thankfulness.</p> + + +<p>"Why, surely," she said. "You mean you're going +to sail to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>Bull laughed and his laugh was infectious. The girl +was smiling her delight.</p> + +<p>"That's so. I need to cross the Atlantic. I wasn't +going till the <em>Myra's</em> next trip. I'll go to-morrow an' + +stop over in Quebec to see your people. It just means +hurrying my choreman packing my stuff while I show +you around to-morrow. That kind of fixes things, and +if you'll hand me that pleasure I'd just love to show you +around some this afternoon. There's a heap to see, and +I don't fancy you missing any of it." He passed round +the desk, and picked up the girl's coat and held it out +invitingly. "Will you come right along?"</p> + +<p>There was no denying him. Nancy looked up into +his smiling eyes. She felt there was a lot she wanted +to say, ought to say, on the business matter in hand. +But it was impossible. And in her heart she was thankful.</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd just love to," she said, and stood up from +her chair.</p> + +<p>Very tenderly, very carefully the man's hands helped +her into her coat. And somehow Nancy was very glad +the hands were big, and strong, and—yes—clumsy.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_18"></a> +<h3>Chapter IX—On The Open Sea</h3> + + +<p>The <em>Myra</em> laboured heavily. With every rise and fall +of her high bows a whipping spray lashed the faces of +those on deck. The bitter north-easterly gale churned the +ocean into a white fury, and the sky was a-race with +leaden masses of cloud. There was no break anywhere. +Sky and sea alike were fiercely threatening, and the wind +howled through the vessel's top gear.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford had been sharing the storm with the + +sturdy skipper on the bridge. He had been listening to +the old man's talk of fierce experience on the coast of +Labrador. It had all been interesting to the landsman +in view of the present storm, but at last he could no +longer endure the exposure of the shelterless bridge.</p> + +<p>"It's me for the deck and a sheltered corner," he finally +declared, preparing to pass down the iron "companion."</p> + +<p>And the Captain grinned.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you," he bellowed in the shriek of the +gale. "But I guess I'd as lief have it this way. It's +better than a flat sea an' fog, which is mostly the alternative +this time o' year. The Atlantic don't offer much +choice about now. She's like a shrew woman. Her +smile ain't ever easy. An' when you get it you've most +always got to pay good. She can blow herself sick with +this homeward bound breeze for all I care."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," Bull shouted back at him. "Guess +you've lost your sense of the ease of things working this +coast so long. It 'ud be me for the flat sea and fog all +the time. I like my chances taken standing square on +two feet. So long."</p> + +<p>He passed below, beating his hands for warmth. And +as he went he glanced back at the sturdy, oil-skinned +figure clinging to the rail of the bridge. The man's far-off +gaze was fixed on the storm-swept sky, reading every +sign with the intimate knowledge of long years of experience. +It was a reassuring figure that must have put heart +into the veriest weakling. But Bull Sternford needed no +such support. In matters of life and death he was without +emotion.</p> + +<p>He scrambled his way to the leeward side of the +engines where a certain warmth and shelter was to be had, +and where a number of hardly tested deck chairs were +securely lashed. It was the resting place of those few +beset passengers who could endure no longer the indifferent, +odorous accommodation of the <em>Myra's</em> saloon. + +Only one chair was occupied. For the rest the deck was +completely deserted.</p> + +<p>Bull's first glance at the solitary passenger was sufficient. +The gleam of red hair under the fur cap told him +all he wanted to know, and he groped his way along the +slippery deck, and deposited his bulk safely into the chair +beside Nancy McDonald.</p> + +<p>"Say," he cried, with a cheerful grin, as he struggled +with his rug, "this sort of thing's just about calculated +to leave a feller feeling sympathy with the boy who hasn't +more sense than to spend his time trying to climb outside +more Rye whisky than he was built to hold. It makes +you wonder at the fool thing that lies back of it all. I +mean the fuss going on out yonder."</p> + +<p>Nancy smiled round from amidst her furs.</p> + +<p>"It does seem like useless mischief," she agreed readily. +Then she laughed outright. "But to see you crawling +along the deck just now, grabbing any old thing for support, +and often missing it, was a sight to leave one wondering +how much dignity owes to personality, and how +much to environment. Guess environment's an easy win."</p> + +<p>"Did I look so darn foolish?"</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes were smiling, and Nancy laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Just about as foolish as that fellow with the Rye +whisky you were talking about."</p> + +<p>The man settled himself comfortably.</p> + +<p>"That's tough. And I guess I was doing my best, +too. Say," he went on with a laugh, "just look at those +flapping sea-gulls, or whatever they are out there. Makes +you wonder to see 'em racing along over this fool waste +of water. Look at 'em fighting, struggling, and using up +a whole heap of good energy to keep level with this old +tub. You know they've only to turn away westward to +find land and shelter where they could build nests and +make things mighty comfortable for themselves. I +don't get it. You know it seems to me Nature got in + +a bad muss handing out ordinary sense. I'd say She +never heard of a card index. Maybe Her bookkeeper +was a drunken guy who didn't know a ledger from a +scrap book. Now if She'd engaged you an' me to keep tab +of things for Her, we'd have done a deal better. Those +poor blamed sea-gulls, or whatever they are, would have +been squatting around on elegant beds of moulted feathers, +laid out on steam-heat radiators, feeding on oyster cocktails +and things, and handing out the instructive dope of a +highbrow politician working up a press reputation, and +learning their kids the decent habits of folk who're yearning +to keep out of penitentiary as long as the police'll +let 'em. No. It's no use. Nature got busy. Look at the +result. Those fool birds'll follow us till they're tired, in +the hope that some guy'll dump the contents of the <em>Myra's</em> + +swill barrel their way. Then they'll have one disgusting +orgy on the things other folks don't fancy, and start right +in to fly again to ease their digestions. It's a crazy game +anyway. And it leaves me with a mighty big slump in +Nature's stock."</p> + +<p>Nancy listened delightedly to the man's pleasant +fooling.</p> + +<p>"It's worse than that," she cried, falling in with his +humour. "Look at some of them taking a rest, swimming +about in that terribly cold water. Ugh! No, if +we'd fixed their sense we'd have made it so they'd have +had enough to get on dry land, like any other reasonable +folk yearning for a rest."</p> + +<p>The man studied the girl's pretty profile, and a great +sense of regret stirred him that the Skandinavia had been +able to buy her services. What a perfect creature to +have been supported by in the work he was engaged on.</p> + +<p>"That sounds good," he said. "Reasonable folks!" +He shook his head. "Nature again. Guess we're all +reasonable till we're found out. No. Even the greatest +men and women on earth are fools at heart, you know."</p> + + +<p>The girl sat up as the vessel lurched more heavily and +flung their chairs forward, straining dangerously.</p> + +<p>"How?" she questioned, glancing down anxiously at +the moorings of her chair.</p> + +<p>"They're safe—so far," Bull reassured her. Then he +leant back again, and produced and lit a cigar. "Guess +I'll smoke," he said. "Maybe that'll help me tell you—'how.'"</p> + +<p>The girl watched him light his cigar and her eyes were +full of laughter.</p> + +<p>"It's a real pity women can't sit themselves behind a +cigar," she said at last, with a pretence of regret. "It's +the wisest looking thing a man does. A cigarette kind +of makes him seem pleasantly undependable. A pipe +makes you feel he's full of just everyday notions. But a +cigar! My! It sort of dazzles me when I see a man +with a big cigar. I feel like a lowgrade earthworm, +don't you know. Say," she cried, with an indescribable +gesture of her gloved hands, "he handles that cigar, he +sort of fondles it. He cocks it. He depresses it. He +rolls it across his lips to the opposite corner of his mouth, +and finally blows a thin, thoughtful stream of smoke +gently between his pursed lips. And that stream is +immeasurable in its suggestion of wise thought and keen +calculation. I'd say a man's cigar is his best disguise."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's fine," he cried. "But you've forgotten the +other feller. The man who 'chews.'"</p> + +<p>Nancy laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"Easy," she cried promptly. "When he of the bulged +cheek gets around just watch your defences. He's +mostly tough. He's on the jump, and hasn't much +fancy for the decencies of life. The harder he chews +the more he's figgering up his adversary. And when he +spits, get your weapons ready. When the chewing man +succeeds in life I guess he's dangerous. And it's because + +his force and character have generally lifted him from +the bottom of things."</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head in mock despair.</p> + +<p>Nancy settled herself back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"That's fixed it. Guess you'll need to tell <em>me</em> 'how.'"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she cried. "You can't go back. 'The greatest +men and women in the world are fools at heart.' + +That's what you said."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I seem to remember."</p> + +<p>The man stirred and sat up. He folded the rug more +closely about his feet. Then he turned with a whimsical +smile in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he cried. "And isn't it so? What do we +work, and fight, and hate for? What do we spend our +lives worrying to beat the other feller for? Why do we +set our noses into other folks' affairs and worry them to +death to think, and act, and feel the way we do? And +all the while it don't matter a thing. Of course we're +fools. We'll hand over when the time comes, and the +old world'll roll on, and it's not been shifted a hair's-breadth +for our having lived, in spite of the obituaries +the news-sheets hand out like a Sunday School mam at +prize time. Say, here, it's no use fooling ourselves. +Life's one great big thing that don't take shape by reason +of our acts. What's the civilisation we love to pat ourselves +on the back for? I'll tell you. It's just a thing +we've invented, like—wireless telegraphy, or soap, or +steam-heat; and it hands us a cloak to cover up the evil +that man and woman'll never quit doing. Before we +made civilisation a feller got up on to his hind legs and +hit the other feller over the head with a club; and if he +was hungry he used him as a lunch. Now we don't do +that. We break him for his dollars and leave him and +his poor wife and kids hungry, while we buy a lunch with +the stuff we beat out of him. Why do we work? For +one of two elegant notions. It's either to fill ourselves up + +with the things we've dreamt about when appetite was +sharp set, and hate to death when we get, or it's to satisfy +a conceit that leaves us hoping and believing the rest of +the world'll hand us an epitaph like it handed no other +feller since ever it got to be a habit burying up the garbage +death produces. Why do we fight and hate? +Because we're poor darn fools that don't know better, +and don't know the easy thing life would be without +those things. And as for settin' our noses into the affairs +of other folk, that's mostly disease. But it isn't all. No, +sir. There's more to it than that," he laughed. "If it +was just disease it wouldn't matter a lot, but it isn't. +There isn't a fool man or woman born into this world +that doesn't reckon he or she can put right the fool +notions and acts of other fools. And when the other +feller persuades them the game's not the one-sided racket +they guessed it was, then they get mad, and start groping +and scheming how to boost their notions on to a world +that's spent a whole heap of time fixing things, mostly +foolish, to its own mighty good satisfaction. I say right +here we're fools if we aren't crooks, which is the exception. +There's a dandy world around us full of sun to +warm us and food to eat, and birds to sing to us, and +flowers and things to make us feel good. If we needed +more I guess Providence would have handed it out. But +it didn't. And so we got busy with our own notions till +we've turned God's elegant creation into a home for crazes +and cranks. I could almost fancy the Archangels hovering +around, like those silly sea-gulls, with a bunch of +straight-jackets to wrap about us when we jump the limit +they figger we've a right to. Fools, yes? Why, I guess +so—sure."</p> + +<p>Nancy breathed a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"My, but that's a big say."</p> + +<p>Then she broke into a laugh which found prompt +response in the other. It was cut short, however. A + +sea thundered against the staunch side of the vessel and +left her staggering. The girl's eyes became seriously +anxious. The straining chairs held, and presently the +deck swung up to a comparative level.</p> + +<p>"I had visions of the—"</p> + +<p>"Scuppers?" Bull laughed. "Yes. That sea's one of +the elegant things Providence handed out for our +happiness."</p> + +<p>Nancy nodded.</p> + +<p>"So man built things like the <em>Myra</em>, which, of course, +was—foolish?"</p> + +<p>"An' set out sailing around in a winter storm off +Labrador, instead of basking in a pleasant tropical sun, +which hasn't any—sense."</p> + +<p>Bull chuckled.</p> + +<p>"All because two mighty fine enterprises reckoned +they'd common interests which were jeopardised by rivalry, +which was also—foolishly?"</p> + +<p>Bull's cigar ash tumbled into his lap.</p> + +<p>"But not ha'f so foolish as the notion that a girl has to +suffer the worries and dangers of one hell of a trip on the +worst sea that God ever made to try and square the +things between them."</p> + +<p>Nancy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I can't grant that," she cried quickly.</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"I mean—oh, psha! Don't you see, or does your +cynical philosophy blind you? We're fools, maybe. +The things Providence sends us aren't the things we've +got a notion for. Maybe we know better than Providence, +and can't find happiness in the things it's handed us. +What then? As you say, we start right in chasing +happiness in the way we fancy. It seems to me the only +real happiness in life is in doing. Ease, wealth, love, +all the things folk talk and write about are just dreams of +happiness that aren't real. Work, achievement, even if + +it's wrong-headed—that's life; that's happiness. That's +why I'd say there's nothing foolish in a girl putting up +with dangers and discomforts to bring two enterprises to +an understanding, calculated to promote a greater achievement +for both. It's my little notion of snatching a bunch +of happiness for myself."</p> + +<p>There was no laughter in Nancy's eyes now. They +were quite serious. Her words were alive with vehemence. +Bull was watching her intently, probing, in his searching +way, the depths which her hazel eyes hinted at. The +things she said pleased him. Her tone thrilled him. He +wanted more.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, as he rolled the cigar across his +lips in the way Nancy had laughingly pointed. "You +reckon it's handed you happiness—this thing?"</p> + +<p>The girl was stirred.</p> + +<p>"Surely," she cried. "Later, when things get fixed +up between the Skandinavia and Sachigo, I'll get a focus +of my little share in the business of it—the achievement. +Then I'll get warm all through with a glow of happiness +because I—helped it along."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded as he watched the rising colour in the +perfect cheeks. The girl was very, very beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose you will," he said. Then he went on +provocatively. "But do you guess it's always so? I +mean that always happens? Isn't it to do with temperament? +Now, take the forest-jacks. Do you guess they +feel happiness in a tree dropped right? Do you guess +there's happiness for the poor fool who don't know better +than to spend his days in a forest risking his life boosting +logs on the river jamb? Do you guess there's any sort +of old joy for the feller turned adrift, when he's getting +old in the tooth, and there's no room for him on the pay +roll of the camp, in the thought that he <em>was</em> the best +axeman the forest ever bred? It seems like a crazy sort +of happiness that way. Happiness in achievement's great + +while the achieving's going on. But at the finish we get +right back to Nature. And when that time comes Nature +doesn't do much to help us out."</p> + +<p>Nancy sat up.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing? That great Sachigo!" she +demanded challengingly. "You're building, building one +magnificent enterprise. Is there happiness in it for you?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Bull admitted frankly. "Oh, yes. But I've +no illusions," he said. "I don't go back on the things +I said. Nature as she dopes out life couldn't hand me a +hundredth part of the happiness I get that way. But +when I'm through, like that lumber-jack who's struck +off the pay roll, how's it going to be with me? A trained +mind without the bodily ability to thrust on in the game +of life. It'll be hell—just hell. The one hope is to die +in harness. Like the forest-jack who drowns under the +logs on the river, or who gets up against the other feller's +knife in a drunken scrap. That way lies happiness. +The rest is a sort of passing dream with the years of old +age for regret."</p> + +<p>The girl spread out her hands.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe you feel that way," she cried, with +something very like distress. "Oh, if I had your power, +your ability. Why, I'd say there's no end to the things +you could achieve, not only now, but right through, right +through that time when you're old in body, but still +strong in brain. A limited goal for achievement isn't +the notion in my foolish head. Why, if I'd only the +strength to knit socks for the folks who need them, +there'd still be happiness and to spare. But let's keep to +our own ground. The forest-jack. I guess you're one +big man who employs thousands. What of those boys +when they're struck off the—pay roll. Is there nothing +to be achieved that way—nothing to last you to your +last living moment? Think of their needs. Think of +the happiness you could hand yourself in handing them + +comfort and happiness when they're—through. It's a +thing I've promised myself, if luck ever hands me the +chance. You've got the pity of their lives. Your words +tell that. Well?"</p> + +<p>The man had forgotten the storm. He had forgotten +everything but the charm of the girl's hot enthusiasm. +And the picture of superlative beauty she made in her +animation.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It's a bully notion," he demurred, "but it's not for +me. No. You see, I'm just a tough sort of man who's big +for a scrap. I haven't patience or sympathy for the feller +who don't feel the same. You've seen the forest boys?"</p> + +<p>"I've been through the Shagaunty."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford's ejaculation was sharp. The problem +of Father Adam's letter was partially solved.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you're a woman," he went on. "And +I'd like to say right here a woman's sympathy is just +about the best thing on this old earth. That's why I'd +like to cry like a kid when I see it going out to the things +that haven't any sort of excuse for getting it. It's good +to hear you talk for those boys. It isn't they deserve it, +but—as I said, you're a woman. Talk it all you fancy, +but leave it at talk. Don't let it get a holt. Don't +waste one moment of your hard earned happiness on + +'em. I was a forest-jack. I know 'em. I know it—the +life. And if you knew the thing I know you wouldn't +harden all up as you listen to the things I'm saying:—"</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>Bull flung his cigar away with vicious force.</p> + +<p>"Let me say this thing out," he went on. "There's +a man in the forest I know, every jack knows. He's a +feller who sort of lives in the twilight. You see, he sort +of comes and goes; and no one knows a thing about him, +except he haunts the forests like a shadow. Well, he's + +settin' the notion you feel into practice—in a way. He's +out for the boys. To help 'em, physically, spiritually, +the whole time. They love him. We all love him to +death. Well, ask him how far he gets. Maybe he'd tell +you, and I guess his story 'ud break the heart of a stone +image. He'll tell you—and he speaks the truth—there +isn't a thing to be done but heal 'em, and feed 'em, and +just help 'em how you can. The rest's a dream. You +see, these jacks come from nowhere particular. They +take to the forests because it's far off; and it's dark, and +covers most things up. And they go nowhere particular, +except it's to the hell waiting on most of us if we don't +live life the way that's intended for us. No. Quit +worrying for the forest-jack. Maybe life's going to hand +you all sorts of queer feelings as you go along. And the +good heart that sees suffering and injustice is going to +ache mighty bad. The forest wasn't built for daylight, +and the folks living there don't fancy it. And there isn't +a broom big enough in the world to clean up the muck +you'll find there."</p> + +<p>"You're talking of Father Adam?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's interest had redoubled. It had instantly +centred itself on the man she had met in the Shagaunty +forests. The lumber-jacks were forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Bull nodded. "Do you know him?" There +was eagerness in his question.</p> + +<p>"I met him on the Shagaunty."</p> + +<p>The man had produced a fresh cigar. But the renewed +heavy rolling of the vessel delayed its lighting. Nancy +gazed out to sea in some concern.</p> + +<p>"It's getting worse," she said.</p> + +<p>Bull struck a match and covered it with both hands.</p> + +<p>"It seems that way," he replied indifferently. Then +after a moment he looked up. His cigar was alight. +"He's a great fellow—Father Adam," he said reflectively.</p> + +<p>"He's just—splendid."</p> + + +<p>The girl's enthusiasm told Bull something of the thing +he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "He's the best man I know. The +world doesn't mean a thing to him. Why he's there I +don't know, and I guess it's not my business anyway. +But if God's mercy's to be handed to any human creature +it seems to me it won't come amiss—Say!"</p> + +<p>He broke off, startled. He sat up with a jump. A +great gust of wind broke down upon the vessel. It came +with a shriek that rose in a fierce crescendo. His startled +eyes were riveted upon a new development in the sky. +An inky cloud bank was sweeping down upon them out +of the north-east, and the wind seemed to roar its way out +of its very heart.</p> + +<p>The vessel heeled over. Again the wind tore at the +creaking gear. It was a moment of breathless suspense +for those seated helplessly looking on. Then something +crashed. A vast sea beat on the quarter and deluged +the decks, and the chairs were torn from their moorings.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was sprawling in the race of water. +Nancy, too, was hurled floundering in the scuppers. +They were flung and beaten, crashing about in the +swirling sea that swept over the vessel's submerged +rail.</p> + +<p>Bull struggled furiously. Every muscle was straining +with the effort of it. A fierce anxiety was in his eyes as +he fought his way foot by foot towards the saloon companion. +The handicap was terrible. There was practically +no foothold, for the vessel was riding at an angle +of something like forty-five degrees. Then, too, he had +but one hand with which to help himself along. The +other was supporting the dead-weight of the body of +the unconscious girl.</p> + +<p>At last, breathless and nearly beaten, he reached his +goal and clutched desperately at the door-casing of the + +companion. He staggered within. And as he did so +relief found expression in one fierce exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he cried. And clambered down, bearing +his unconscious burden into the safety of the vessel's +interior.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_19"></a> +<h3>Chapter X—In Quebec</h3> + + +<p>It was the final stage of her journey. Nancy was on her +way up from the docks, where she had left the staunch +<em>Myra</em> discharging her cargo.</p> + +<p>It was that triumphant return to which she had always +looked forward, for which she had hoped and prayed. +Her work was completed. It had been crowned with +greater success than she had dared to believe possible. +Yet her triumph somehow found her unelated, even a +shade depressed.</p> + +<p>A belated sense of humour battled with her mood. +There were moments when she wanted to laugh at +herself. There were others when she had no such desire. +So she sat gazing out of the limousine window, as though +all her interest were in the drab houses lining the way, +and the heavy-coated pedestrians moving along the sidewalks +of the narrow streets through which they were +passing.</p> + +<p>It was winter all right, for all no snow had as yet +fallen, and the girl felt glad that it was so. It suited +her mood.</p> + +<p>Once or twice she took a sidelong glance at the man +seated beside her; but Bull Sternford's mood was no +less reticent than her own. Once she encountered the +glance of his eyes, and it was just as the vehicle bumped +heavily over the badly paved road.</p> + + +<p>"We can do better in the way of roads up at Sachigo," +he said with a belated smile.</p> + +<p>"You surely can," Nancy admitted readily. "The +roads down here in the old town are terrible. This old +city of ours could fill pages of history. It's got beauties, +too, you couldn't find anywhere else in the world. But +it seems to need most of the things a city needs to make +it the place we folk reckon it is."</p> + +<p>She went on at random.</p> + +<p>"Do you always keep an automobile in Quebec?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Hired," he said.</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he went on, "when I make this old city it's +with the purpose of driving twenty-four hours work into +twelve. An automobile helps that way."</p> + +<p>"And you're wasting all this time driving me up to +my apartments?" Nancy smiled. "I'm more indebted +than I guessed."</p> + +<p>The man's denial was instant.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Your apartments are about two +blocks from the Château. But tell me, when'll you be +through making your report to Peterman?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's depression passed. She was caught again +in the interest of everything.</p> + +<p>"Why, to-day—surely," she said. "You see, I want +to get word to you right away."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's fine," he said. "It's not my way leaving +things lying around either. I'll be on the jump to get +through before sailing time to that little old country +across the water. But tell me. That report. After +it's in you'll have made all the good you reckon to? And +then you, personally, cut right out of this thing?"</p> + + +<p>His manner gave no indication of the thing in his +mind.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Nancy replied happily. "You see, I've +bearded you—only you've no beard—in your fierce den +up in Sachigo. And I've—and you've come right down +here to Quebec with me to discuss with my people the +thing they want to discuss with you. They didn't +think I—they didn't hope that. Maybe I've done better +than they expected. Why, when I hand the news to Mr. +Peterman he'll—he'll—oh, I'm just dying to see his face +when I tell him."</p> + +<p>"You—haven't wired him already?"</p> + +<p>"No. The news was too good to send by wire."</p> + +<p>For a moment the man contemplated the simple radiant +creature beside him. She was so transparently happy. +And the sight of her happiness satisfied him.</p> + +<p>"It'll—astonish him, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Astonish him?" Nancy laughed. "That doesn't +say a thing. I shouldn't wonder if he refused to believe +me."</p> + +<p>"And you'll get—promotion? Promotion—in Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes sobered on the instant.</p> + +<p>"Surely. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why not?"</p> + +<p>Just for a moment Nancy hesitated. Then her +challenge came incisively.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>But the man smilingly shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You want promotion under Peterman—in the +Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's eyes widened.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I? The Skandinavia's everything to +me. It ought to be everything. Isn't that so? Now, I +wonder what you mean?" she went on, after the briefest +pause. "Are you talking that way just because you are + +a rival concern?" She shook her head. "That's no +affair of mine. But wait while I tell you. Try and +think yourself a young girl without folks that count, +with a pretty tough world laid out in front of her, and +with a healthy desire to dress, and eat the same as any +other girl of her age. She's given a chance in life to +make good, to gather round her all those things she +needs, by—the Skandinavia. Well, how would you feel? +Wouldn't you want that—promotion? Yes. I want it. +I want it with all my heart. The Skandinavia gave me my +first start. They've been very, very good to me. I've +big room in my heart for them. Their work's my work all +the time. I've nothing but gratitude for Mr. Peterman."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Bull's smile had passed. He was thinking of +Nancy's feeling of gratitude towards the Swede—Peterman.</p> + +<p>He turned away, and the grey wintry daylight beyond +the window seemed to absorb him. He was possessed +by a mad desire to fling prudence to the winds and then +and there point out the wrong he felt she was committing +against the country that had bred her in spending her +life in the service of these foreigners. But he knew he +must refrain. It was not the moment. And somehow he +felt she was not the girl to listen patiently to such ethics +as he preached when their force was directed against +those who claimed her whole loyalty and gratitude.</p> + +<p>To Nancy it seemed as though some shadow had arisen +between them. She was a little troubled at the thing +she had said. But somehow she had no desire to withdraw +a single word of it.</p> + +<p>The car had passed out of the old part of the city. +And Nancy realised it was ascending the great hill where +the Château Hotel looked out over the old citadel and +the wide waters of the busy St. Lawrence river. In a +few minutes the happy companionship of the past few +days would be only a memory.</p> + + +<p>It was only a little way to her apartments now. Such +a very little way. Yes. The porter would be there. He +would take her trunks and baggage, and then her door +would close behind her, and—She remembered that +moment at which she had awakened to consciousness in +this man's strong arms in the poor little saloon of the +storm-beaten <em>Myra</em>. She remembered the embracing +strength of them, and the way she had thrilled under +their pressure. It had been all very wonderful.</p> + +<p>"Say!"</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford had turned back from the window. He +was smiling again.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" The girl was all eager attention.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering," Bull went on. "Maybe you'll' + +fancy hearing how things are fixed after I see Peterman?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be ever so glad. There's the 'phone. You can +get me most any time after business hours. I don't go +out much. I—"</p> + +<p>Nancy broke off to glance out of the window. The +automobile had slowed.</p> + +<p>"Why, we're at my place," she cried. And the man +fancied he detected disappointment in her tone.</p> + +<p>The car stopped before the apartment house, and Bull +hurled himself at the litter of the girl's belongings strewn +about their feet. A few moments later they were standing +together on the sidewalk surrounded by the baggage.</p> + +<p>Bull gazed up at the building.</p> + +<p>"You live here?" he asked at random.</p> + +<p>Nancy nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It isn't much. But some day, maybe, I'll be +able to afford a swell apartment with—"</p> + +<p>"Sure you will," Bull agreed, as they passed up the steps +to the entrance doors. "But meanwhile I mostly need +your 'phone number of this," he added with a laugh.</p> + +<p>The baggage was left to the porter's care, and they +stood together in the hallway. Bull's youthful stature + +was overshadowing for all Nancy was tall. Somehow +the girl was glad of it. She liked his height, and the +breadth of his great shoulders, and the power of limbs +his tweed suit was powerless to disguise.</p> + +<p>She moved across to the porter's office and wrote down +her 'phone number while the man looked on. But he +only had eyes for the girl herself. At that moment her +telephone number was the last thing he desired to think +about.</p> + +<p>She stood up and offered him the paper.</p> + +<p>"You won't forget it that way," she said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Bull glanced down at it. Then he looked again into +the smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said. "I'll ring up." Then he held out +a hand. "So long."</p> + +<p>He was gone. The glass door had swung to behind him. +Nancy watched him pass into the waiting automobile, +and responded to his final wave of the hand. Then she +turned to the porter, and her smile had completely +vanished.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Nathaniel Hellbeam stood up. He had been seated +at Elas Peterman's desk studying the papers which his +managing director had set out for his perusal. His gross +body hung over the table for a moment as he reached +towards his hat. He took his gloves from inside it and +commenced to put them on.</p> + +<p>"The <em>Myra</em>? You say she is in?" he asked in his +guttural fashion. "This girl? This girl who is to buy +up this—this Sachigo man," he laughed. "Is she +arrived?"</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were alight with unpleasant derision. +Peterman gave no heed. The man's arrogance was all +too familiar to him.</p> + + +<p>"I've not heard—yet," he said. "She should be."</p> + +<p>"You not have heard—yet?" The challenge was superlatively +offensive. "You a beautiful secretary have. You +lose her for weeks—months. Yet you do not know of her +return—yet? Sho! You are not the man for this beautiful +secretary. She for me is—yes? Hah!"</p> + +<p>Peterman smiled as was his duty.</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to get her back," he said quietly. "But +I haven't heard from her at all. And—well, she's not the +sort of woman to bombard with telegrams. She's out on +a difficult job and I felt it best to leave her to it. I shall +hear when she's ready, I guess she'll be right along in to +tell me personally. Maybe—"</p> + +<p>He broke off and picked up the telephone whose buzzer +was rattling impatiently on the desk.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he said softly. "Oh, yes. Oh, how are you? +So glad you've got back. What sort of passage did—oh, +bad, eh? Well, well; I'm sorry. Oh, you're a good +sailor. That's fine. Right away? You'll be over right +away? Wouldn't you like to rest awhile? All right, I +see. Yes, surely I'll be glad. I just thought—oh, not at +all. You see, if you were a man I wouldn't be concerned +at all. Yes, come right along whenever you choose. Eh? +Successful? You have been? Why, that's just fine. Well, +I'm dying to hear your news. Splendid. I shall be here. +G'bye."</p> + +<p>Peterman set the 'phone down. His smiling eyes +challenged those of the man who a moment before had +derided him.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Hellbeam's impatience was without scruple at any time.</p> + +<p>"She's got back all right, and she's succeeded far better +than you hoped. Better than she hoped herself. But—no +better than I expected."</p> + +<p>The other's eyes snapped under the quiet satisfaction of +the man's reply.</p> + + +<p>"Ah, she has. Does she say—yes?"</p> + +<p>Elas shook his dark head.</p> + +<p>"No. She's coming right over to tell me the whole +story."</p> + +<p>"Now?"</p> + +<p>"In a while."</p> + +<p>Elas Peterman knew his position to the last fraction +when dealing with Nathaniel Hellbeam. He knew it was +for him to obey, almost without question. But somehow, +for the moment, his Teutonic self-abnegation had become +obscured. He was yielding nothing in the matter of this +woman to anyone. Not even to Nathaniel Hellbeam whom +he regarded almost as the master of his destiny.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the gross nature of the financier possessed a +certain sympathy. Perhaps even there was a lurking sense +of honour in him, where a woman, whom he regarded as +another man's property, was concerned. Again it may +simply have been that he understood the other's reticence, +and it suited him for the moment to restrain his grosser +inclinations. He laughed. And it was not an hilarious +effort.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said. "You will see her first. That is as +it should be. Later, we both will talk with her. Well—good +luck my friend."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam thrust his hat on his great head and strutted +his way across to the door.</p> + +<p>"These people must be bought. Or—" he said, +pausing before passing out—</p> + +<p>"Smashed!"</p> + +<p>Hellbeam nodded.</p> + +<p>"It suits me better to—buy."</p> + +<p>"Yes. You want to come into touch with—the owner."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The gross figure disappeared through the doorway.</p> + +<p>Peterman did not return to his desk. He crossed to +the window and stood gazing out of it. His hands were + +thrust deep into his pockets. And his fingers moved +nervously, rattling the contents of them. He was a goodly +specimen of manhood. He was tall, and squarely erect, +and carried himself with that military bearing which +seems to belong to all the races of Teutonic origin. It was +only in the study of the man's face that exception could be +taken. Just now there was none to observe and he was +free from all restraint.</p> + +<p>His dark eyes were smiling, for his thoughts were +streaming along the channel that most appealed. He was +thinking of the beauty of the girl who was about to return +to him, and it seemed to him a pity she was so simply +honest, so very young in the world as he understood it. +Then her ambition. It was—but he was rather glad of her +ambition. Ambition might prove his best friend in the +end. In his philosophy an ambitious woman could have no +scruple. Anyway it seemed to him that ambition pitted +against scruple was an easy winner. He could play on that, +and he felt he knew how to play on it, and was in a position +to do so. She had come back to him successful. He +wondered how successful.</p> + +<p>He moved from the window and passed over to the +desk, where he picked up his 'phone and asked for a +number.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Oh, that Bennetts? Oh, yes. This is Peterman—Elas +Peterman speaking. Did you send that fruit, +and the flowers I ordered to the address I gave you? Yes? +Oh, you did? They were there before eleven o'clock. +Good. Thanks—"</p> + +<p>He set the 'phone down and turned away. But in a +moment he was recalled. It was a message from downstairs. +Nancy McDonald wished to see him.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Peterman was leaning back in his chair. Nancy was +occupying the chair beside the desk which had not known +her for several months.</p> + + +<p>It was a moment of stirring emotions. For the girl +it was that moment to which she had so long looked +forward. To her it seemed she was about to vindicate +this man's confidence in her, and offer him an adequate +return such as her gratitude desired to make. And deep +down in her heart, where the flame of ambition steadily +burned, she felt she had earned the promised reward, all +of it.</p> + +<p>The man was concerned with none of these things. He +was not even concerned for the girl's completed mission. +It was Nancy herself. It was the charming face with its +halo of red hair, and the delightful figure so rounded, so +full of warmth and charm, which concerned him.</p> + +<p>He had no scruple as he feasted his eyes upon her. He +did nothing to disguise his admiration, and Nancy, full of +her news and the thrilling joy of her success, saw nothing +of that which a less absorbed woman, a more experienced +woman, must unfailingly have observed.</p> + +<p>"You've a big story for me," Peterman said, with a +light laugh. "Have you completed an option on—Sachigo? +You look well. You're looking fine. Travelling +in Labrador seems to have done you good."</p> + +<p>Nancy's smiling eyes were alight with delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said. "It's done me good. But then +I've had a success I didn't reckon on. Maybe it's made all +the difference. It was a real tough journey. I'm not sure +you'd have seen me back at all if it hadn't been for Mr. +Sternford."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>The man's smiling eyes had changed. Their dark +depths were full of sharp enquiry. Nancy read only +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Why, we were sitting on deck, and it was storming. +It was just terrible. We lurched heavily and shipped a +great sea. Our chairs were flung into the scuppers by the +rush of water, and I—why, I guess I was beaten unconscious + +and drowning when he got hold of me. He just +fought his way to safety. I didn't know about it till I +was safe down in the saloon. I woke up then, and he was +carrying me—"</p> + +<p>"Sternford?"</p> + +<p>The change in the man's eyes had deepened. Then his +smile came back to them. But that, too, was different. +It was curiously fixed and hard.</p> + +<p>"You've gone a bit too fast for me," he said. "I don't +get things right. Sternford, the man running Sachigo +was with you on the <em>Myra</em>? He's here—in Quebec?"</p> + +<p>It was Nancy's great moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, with a restraint that failed to disguise +her feelings. "He's come down to discuss a business +arrangement between the Skandinavia and his enterprise. +That's what you wanted—isn't it?"</p> + +<p>The man leant forward in his chair. He set his elbows +on the desk and supported his chin in both hands. His +smile was still there, and his eyes were steadily regarding +her. But they expressed none of the surprise and delight +Nancy looked for. They were smiling as he literally forced +them to smile.</p> + +<p>"You brought him down with you—to meet us?" he +asked slowly.</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>"You did your work so well that he entertained the +notion sufficiently to come along down—with you?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—he's come down for that purpose."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were searching.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"At the Chateau. He's waiting to hear from you for +an appointment."</p> + +<p>Peterman flung himself back in his chair with a great +laugh. Nancy missed the mirthless tone of it.</p> + +<p>"Say, my dear," he cried at last. "How did you do it? +How in—You're just as bright and smart as I reckoned. + +You've done one big thing and I guess you've earned +all the Skandinavia can hand you. But—"</p> + +<p>He broke off, and his gaze drifted away from the face +with its vivid halo. The wintry daylight beyond the +window claimed him, and Nancy waited.</p> + +<p>"How did you persuade him to ship down on the <em>Myra</em> +with you?" he asked, after a moment's thought.</p> + +<p>"I didn't persuade him. He volunteered."</p> + +<p>"Volunteered?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was coming down on her next trip. You +see, he's making England right away. He guessed he'd +come along down with me instead. He seemed keen set +to discuss this thing with you."</p> + +<p>"I see. Keen set, eh? Keen set to talk with me?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head. It was not denial. It was +the questioning of something left unspoken.</p> + +<p>The girl became anxious. Somehow a sense of disappointment +was stirring.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything wrong?" she asked at last, as the +man remained silent.</p> + +<p>Peterman shook his head again.</p> + +<p>"Not a thing, my dear," he said. "No. You've done +everything. You couldn't have done more if—if you'd +been the most experienced woman schemer in big business. +You went up to prepare the ground for our business. +Well, you prepared it in a way I'd never have guessed. +You've brought this hard business head, Bull Sternford, +right down out of his fortress to meet us on our business +proposition. Guess only you could have done that." He +laughed. "And this man saved your life, eh? And he +carried you in his arms to—safety. Say he was lucky. +That's something any man would be crazy to do. Well, +well, I—"</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair and passed round to the window +where he stood with back turned. Nancy's gaze followed +him. For all his praise she was disturbed.</p> + + +<p>The man at the window saw nothing of that upon which +he gazed. His eyes were unsmiling now that the girl +could no longer observe them. They were the eyes of a +man of unbridled jealous fury. They were burning with +an insensate hatred for the man who had hitherto been +only a stranger rival in business.</p> + +<p>Oh, he understood. Was it likely that this Bull Sternford +was going to yield for a business proposition in this +fashion at the request of a formidable rival? Was he +going to change all his plans at the bidding of the Skandinavia, +and seize the first boat to come and tell them he was +prepared to fall for any plans they might design to beat +him? Not likely. No. It was the girl he had fallen for. +He had changed his plans for her, and for his nerve he had +reaped a harvest such as he, Peterman, had never reaped. +He had held this beautiful creature in his arms, this innocent, +red-haired child, whom he, Peterman, had marked +down for his own. For how long? And she was all +unconscious. Oh, it was maddening, infuriating. +And—</p> + +<p>Suddenly he came back to the desk. Nancy was relieved +as she beheld the familiar smiling kindness in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear. I can't tell you how delighted I am to +get you back," he said, pausing at her side. "My work's +not been by any means satisfactory with you away. +There's just no one suits me in this house like you. But +the thing I'm most glad about is your success. That's +been wonderful. I felt you would make good, but I didn't +know how good. Now I'm going to ring this fellow up and +fix things to see him. Meanwhile you get your big report +of the camps ready for the Board. Then, when you're +ready, I'm going to let them see you, and hear it all from +you first hand, and I'm going to get them to give you the +head of the forestry department right here. It'll be a +mighty jump, but—well—"</p> + + +<p>Nancy was on her feet and her eyes were shining a +gratitude which words could never express. Impulsively +she held out a hand in ardent thanks.</p> + +<p>"Why, say—" she began.</p> + +<p>The man had seized the delicate tapering fingers and +held them warmly in the palms of both of his.</p> + +<p>"Now just don't say a thing," he said. "I know. I +know just how you feel, and the things you want to say. +But don't. You've earned the best, and I'm going to see +you get it. I'm going to lose a smart secretary, but I +don't care if I make one good little friend. Now, Nancy, +what about to-night? I think we ought to celebrate your +triumphant return with a little dinner up at the Chateau. +What say? Will you—honour me? Eight o'clock. Thank +goodness we're not a dry country yet, and it's still possible +to enjoy our successful moments properly. Will +you?"</p> + +<p>Nancy longed to withdraw the hand the man still held. +It was curious. Every word he said expressed just those +things and tributes which her girlish vanity had desired. +There was not a word in all of it to give offence. But +for the second time she experienced a sense of trouble +which her woman's instinct prompted, and a feeling akin +to panic stirred. But she resisted it, as she knew she +must, and her mind was quite made up.</p> + +<p>"You're—very kind," she said, with all the earnestness +she could summon, and with a gentleness that was intended +to disarm. "But I'm so very—very tired. You +don't know what it was like on the <em>Myra</em>. We were battered +and beaten almost to death. I feel as if I needed sleep +for a week."</p> + +<p>The man released her hand lingeringly. His disappointment +was intense, but he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Why, sure," he said, "if you feel that way. I hadn't +thought."</p> + +<p>Then he turned abruptly back to his desk. "That's all + +right. Guess we'll leave it. You go right home and get +your rest."</p> + +<p>For a moment Nancy hesitated. She was fearful of +giving offence. She felt the man's disappointment in his +tone, and in the manner of his turning away. But she +dared not yield to his request. Suddenly she remembered, +and all hesitation passed.</p> + +<p>"I—I just want to thank you for your kind thought +sending me those flowers and fruit," she exclaimed. "I +wanted to thank you before, but I was too excited with +my news. I—"</p> + +<p>The man cut her short.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, my dear," he said. Then he nodded +and deliberately turned to his work. "I'm glad. Now—just +run right along home and—rest."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_20"></a> +<h3>Chapter XI—Drawn Swords</h3> + + +<p>The palatial halls and public rooms of the hotel were +crowded. Everywhere was the hum of voices, which +penetrated even to the intended quiet of the writing rooms. +Every now and then the monotony of it all was broken by +the high-pitched, youthful voices of the messenger boys +seeking out their victims.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was at work. Within an hour of his +arrival he was plunged in the affairs connected with the +great business organisation he projected. The earlier date +of his visit to Quebec had necessitated considerable changes +in plans already prepared. He had entailed for himself +endless added work for the pleasure of the companionship +of a beautiful girl on the journey down the coast, and +begrudged no detail of it. Just now he was writing to a +number of important people, bankers and financial men, +re-arranging appointments to suit his change of plans.</p> + + +<p>There was something tremendously purposeful in the +poise of the man's body as he sat at one of the many +writing tables scattered about the smoking lounge. There +were few passers-by who did not glance a second time in +his direction with that curiosity which is unfailing in +human nature at sight of an unusual specimen of their +kind.</p> + +<p>Twice a name was called by a uniformed boy in that +unintelligible fashion which seems to be the habit of his +species. The boy hovered round. Then he came up +behind the chair on which Bull was seated and hurled +his final challenge.</p> + +<p>"Sternford, sir?" he asked curtly.</p> + +<p>His victim turned.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Wanted on the 'phone, sir."</p> + +<p>The boy was gone on the run. He had hunted his +quarry down. There were still fresh victories to be +achieved.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull was at the 'phone, and his eyes were smiling at +an insurance advertisement set up for the edification and +interest of those whose use of the instrument prevented +their escape.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, yes. Got in this morning. What's that? +Oh, pretty rough. Yes. It's a bad sea most all the +time. Why, that's good of you, Mr. Peterman." His +smile broadened. "Yes. You sent an excellent ambassador. +A charming girl. Well, there's no time like +the present. Yes. I've lunched. I'm just through with +my mail. Four o'clock would suit me admirably. Why +sure I'd like to. All right. G'bye."</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment after replacing the receiver. +Then, becoming aware of another wanting to use the +instrument, he moved away.</p> + +<p>Returning to the smoking lounge he finished off his + +correspondence and took possession of one of the couches +and lit a cigar.</p> + +<p>For a time the hang-over of business pre-occupied him. +But it was not for long. His whole thought swiftly +became absorbed in Nancy McDonald, with her wonderful +halo of vivid hair. It had been the same during the +whole of his journey down from Sachigo, in fact, from +the moment he had first set eyes on her when she entered +his office on that memorable day of her visit. She pre-occupied +all his leisure.</p> + +<p>He had thought deeply on the meaning of her visit +to him, and his thought had had little to do with the +mission she had come upon. Swift decision had dealt +with that. No, it was the girl herself who claimed him.</p> + +<p>He understood the sheer design of the Skandinavia in +sending so perfect a creature to him. That was easy. +It only helped to prove their desire—their urgent desire—to +free themselves from the threat of his competition. +But he wondered at their selection.</p> + +<p>Somehow he felt that the Skandinavia should have +chosen, if their choice fell upon a woman, a clever, brilliant, +unscrupulous creature who knew her every asset, +and was capable of playing every one of them in the +game of commercial warfare. Instead of that they had +sent Nancy, with her sweetly beautiful face and perfect +hair, to be their unthinking tool. He realised her simplicity, +her splendid loyalty to those she served. He +knew she was without design or subterfuge. She was +just the most beautiful, desirable creature he had ever +beheld in his life.</p> + +<p>He told himself it was all wrong. This wonderful +child should never have been sent on such a journey, on +such an errand. She was fit only for the shelter of a +happy home life, protection from every roughness, every +taint with which the sordid world of commerce could +besmirch her. His chivalry was stirred to its depths, + +and the wrong of it all, as he saw it, only the more surely +deepened his purpose for his dealings with an unscrupulous +rival who could commit so egregious an outrage.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford's existence, until now had always been +a joyous heart-whole striving which had no more in it +than the calmly conceived ideals of a heart undisturbed +by sexual emotions. Now—now that had been completely +changed. Perhaps he was not yet wholly aware of the +thing that had come to him. He saw a woman, a perfect +creature who had come to him out of the forest world in +which his whole life was bound up, and a passionate +excitement had taken possession of him. There could +be no denial of that. But so far the full measure of his +feelings had not revealed itself. All he wanted was to +think of nothing and nobody just now, but this girl who +had stirred him so deeply. So he stretched himself out +on the well-sprung couch and yielded to the delight of +it all.</p> + +<p>But the hour he had been free to dispose of thus was +swiftly used up with his pleasant dreaming. And it was +with a feeling of real irritation that he finally flung away +his cigar and bestirred himself. His irritation did not +last long, however, and his consolation was found in the +fact that Elas Peterman was awaiting him, and Elas +Peterman was the man who had so outrageously offended +against his ideas of chivalry.</p> + +<p>He stood up and brushed the fallen cigar ash from his +clothing. His one desire now was to get through with +the business once and for all, to do the thing that should +leave Nancy McDonald with the reward of her labours. +Yes, he wanted to do that. Afterwards—well, he must +leave the "afterwards" to itself.</p> + +<p>He hurried away in search of his heavy winter overcoat.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Elas Peterman looked up as the door opened to admit +his visitor. His first impression startled him not a little.</p> + + +<p>It was the first time he had encountered the man from +Sachigo.</p> + +<p>Bull moved into the room with that large ease which +big men so often display. And he paused and frankly +gripped the carefully manicured hand Peterman held +out to him.</p> + +<p>"I'm real glad to meet you, Mr. Peterman," he said +quietly. Then he dropped into the chair set for him, +while his eyes responded unsmilingly to the measuring +gaze of the other.</p> + +<p>"It's queer we've never met before," Bull said, leaning +back in his chair.</p> + +<p>Peterman laughed. He pushed a large box of cigars +close to the visitor's hand.</p> + +<p>"It's mostly that way with the high command in—war," +he said easily. "The opposing generals don't meet except +at the—peace table. Those are Bolivars. Try one?"</p> + +<p>Bull helped himself with a laugh that was about as +real as the other's.</p> + +<p>"The pipe of—peace, eh?" he said.</p> + +<p>"That's how I hope," Peterman replied.</p> + +<p>Bull nodded as he lit his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Most of us hope for peace, and do our best to +aggravate war. That so?"</p> + +<p>"It's damn fool human nature."</p> + +<p>Peterman sat back in his chair, and laughed a little +boisterously. Then he turned to the window while Bull +silently consulted the white ash of his cigar.</p> + +<p>"You're projecting a big thing in pulp," the Swede +said a moment later. "You figger to split the Canadian +pulp trade into two opposing camps. The Skandinavia +and the Labrador enterprises. It means one great, big +prolonged battle in which one or the other is to be beaten. +Guess it's liable to be a battle in which the public'll get +temporary benefit, while we—who fight it—look like +losing all along the line. It seems a pity, eh?"</p> + + +<p>"War's a tough proposition, anyway," Bull replied +slowly. "Its only excuse is it's Nature's way of wiping +out the fool mistakes and crimes human nature spends +most of its time committing. If two sets of criminals +set out to grab, it's odds they'll do hurt to each other, +and end by leaving the world easier when they're completely +despoiled."</p> + +<p>Peterman laughed.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said. "And these fool criminals? Is there +need for them to fall out?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"That's how we of the Skandinavia feel. That's the +notion always in my mind. Say—"</p> + +<p>"Yep?"</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes were squarely gazing. Their clear depths +looked straight into the dark eyes of the man at the desk. +Their regard was intense. It was almost disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"What's the proposition?" he went on. And his firm +lips closed over the last word and contrived to transform +the simple question into a definite challenge.</p> + +<p>Peterman stirred uneasily. At that moment he beheld +more clearly than ever the picture of this man with his +great arms about the body of the woman he coveted, +and feeling lent sharpness to his tone.</p> + +<p>"What's the price you set on your enterprise up at +Labrador?" he said.</p> + +<p>Bull removed his cigar. He emitted a pensive stream +of smoke. His eyes were again pre-occupied with the +white ash, so firm and clean on its tip. Then quite +suddenly he looked up.</p> + +<p>"If you'll tell me the price you set on the whole of +the Skandinavia, I'll talk."</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>The Swede had less command of his feelings than the +other. He had never learnt the methods of the forest +as Bull had learned them.</p> + + +<p>"Why, I can't set a price on Sachigo till I know the +price you set on the Skandinavia," Bull's eyes were smiling. +"You see I should need to double it for—Sachigo."</p> + +<p>The man from Labrador had driven home to the quick, +and the Teutonic vanity of the Swede was instantly +aflame. Peterman had committed the one offence which +the younger man could not forgive. He had dared, in +his vanity, to believe that the situation between them +was a question of price.</p> + +<p>"I didn't invite you here to sell you—the Skandinavia," +Peterman blustered, giving way to anger he could not +restrain.</p> + +<p>"No. And I didn't accept your invitation for the +purpose of selling—Sachigo. If there's any buying and +selling going on you'd best understand quite clearly I +am the buyer."</p> + +<p>There was a dangerous light in Bull's eyes levelled so +steadily on the angry face of the Swede.</p> + +<p>"Then—it's war?"</p> + +<p>Bull shrugged at the challenge.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite indifferent," he said coldly.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of tense silence. Then the Swede +smiled.</p> + +<p>"You're ready then to let the fool public benefit at +your expense?"</p> + +<p>"No." A smile of real humor flashed in Bull's eyes. +"At yours."</p> + +<p>"You mean—you think to—smash us?"</p> + +<p>"Just as sure as the sun'll rise to-morrow. Just as +sure as Providence set up forest and water powers on +Labrador such as you've never dreamed of since you +forgot your boyhood. Just as sure as your Shagaunty's +played out and you need to start in on fresh limits you +aren't sure of yet. Just as sure as they're going to cost +you a heap more than when you were busy treating the + +fortune that Shagaunty handed you like the worst fool-head +spendthrift who ever broke a bank at the gambling +tables."</p> + +<p>Bull rose abruptly from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I'm obliged for this interview, Mr. Peterman," he +went on. "It's suited me. That's why I came along +down in a hurry. You're fortunate in that lady representative. +Her tact and persuasion left me feeling you +had a real proposition that was worth considering. I +guess she'll go a long way for you, and if there's any +live person can help your ship along, she's that live +person. But you can't buy me, and you can't smash me. +I mean that. You see, I know your position. It's my +job to know the position of any possible competitor, and +naturally I know yours. Your Shagaunty's run dry, and, +well, I don't need to tell you all that means to you." +He dropped the stump of his cigar into an ash tray. +"That's a good cigar," he went on with a derisive smile. +"Thanks. Good-bye."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull was at the telephone again. He was again smiling +at the insurance advertisement. But now his smile +was of a different quality. It was full of delighted +anticipation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he was saying. "I spent quite a pleasant +ha'f hour with him. I enjoyed it immensely. Yes. He +seems to be the man to run an enterprise like yours. He +certainly has both initiative and confidence. A little +hasty in judgment, I think. But—yes, I'd like to tell +you all about it. What are you doing this evening? +Oh, resting. I suppose you eat while resting. Yes. It's +necessary, isn't it? Anyway I find it so. Eh? Oh, +yes. You see, I've a big frame to support. Will you +help me to support it this evening? I mean dinner here? +Will you? Oh, that's fine. I'd love to tell you about + +it all. Fine. Right. Eight o'clock then. I'll go and +arrange it all now. It shall be a very special dinner, I +promise you. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He put up the receiver and turned away. His smile +remained, and it had no relation to anything but his +delight that Nancy McDonald had consented to dine with +him.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_21"></a> +<h3>Chapter XII—At The Chateau</h3> + +<p>Nancy was standing before the mirror which occupied +the whole length of the door of the dress-closet with +which her modest bedroom had been provided by a +thoughtful architect.</p> + +<p>She was studying the results of her preparations. She +was to dine with Bull Sternford, the man who had caught +and held her interest for all she knew that they belonged +to camps that were sternly opposed to each other. She +wanted to look her best, whatever that best might be, +and she was haunted by a fear that her best could never +rank in its due place amongst the superlatives.</p> + +<p>However, she had arrayed herself in her newest and +smartest party frock. She had spent hours, she believed, +on her unruly masses of hair, and furthermore, she had +assiduously applied herself to obliterating the weather +stain which the fierce journey from Labrador had inflicted +upon the beautiful oval of her cheeks. Now, at +last, the final touches had been given, and she was +critically surveying the result.</p> + +<p>The longer she studied her reflection the deeper grew +the discontent in her pretty, hazel eyes. It was the +same old reflection, she told herself. It was a bit tricked +out; a bit less real. It was a tiresome thing which gave +her no satisfaction at all. There was the red hair that + +looked so very red. There were the eyes, which, at +times, she was convinced were really green. There was +the stupid nose that always seemed to her to occupy too +much of her face. And as for her cheeks, the wind and +sea had left them looking more healthy, but—She +sighed and hurriedly turned away. She felt that mirrors +were an invention calculated to upset the conceit of any +girl.</p> + +<p>She moved quickly round the little room. Her gloves, +her wrap. She picked them up. The gloves she was +painfully aware had already been cleaned twice, and her +cloak had no greater merits than the modest-priced frock +which had strained her limited bank roll. Then she +consulted the clock on her bureau, and, picked up her +scent-spray. This was the last, the final touch she could +not resist.</p> + +<p>In the midst of using it she set it down with a feeling +of sudden panic.</p> + +<p>She had remembered. She stood staring down at the +dressing table with a light of trouble in her eyes. The +whole incident had been forgotten till that moment. She +remembered she had refused to dine with Elas Peterman +that night on a plea of weariness, and without a +thought had unhesitatingly accepted the invitation of the +man whom the Skandinavia had marked down for its +victim.</p> + +<p>For some seconds the enormity of the thing she had +done overwhelmed her. Then a belated humour came +to her rescue and a shadowy smile drove the trouble +from her eyes.</p> + +<p>Suppose—but no. Her chief would be dining at home, +as was his habit. Then, anyway, there could be no +harm. She was concerned in this thing. She had a +right. She even told herself it was imperative she should +know what had transpired at the interview she had +brought about. Besides, was there not the possibility of + +certain rougnnesses occurring between the two men which +it might be within her power to smooth down? That +was surely so. She had no right to miss any opportunity +of furthering the ends of her own people.</p> + +<p>Then she laughed outright. Oh, it was excuse. She +knew. She was looking forward to the evening. Of +course she was. Then, just as suddenly all desire to +laugh expired. Why? Why was she looking forward +to dining with Bull Sternford?</p> + +<p>Bull! What a quaint name. She had thought of it +before. She had thought of it at the time when the +lonely missionary of the forest had told her of him.</p> + +<p>Swiftly her thought passed on to her meeting with the +man himself. She remembered her nervousness when +she had first looked into his big, wholesome face, with +its clear, searching eyes. Yes, she had realised then the +truth of Father Adam's description. He would as soon +fight as laugh. There could be no doubt of it.</p> + +<p>And then those days on the <em>Myra</em>. She recalled their +talk of the sea-gulls, and of the men of the forests, and +she remembered the almost brutal contempt for them he +had so downrightly expressed. Then the moment of +disaster to herself. It was he who had saved her, he +who had fought for her, although he had been in little +better case himself.</p> + +<p>What was it they had told her? He must be bought +or smashed. She wondered if they realised the man +they were dealing with. She wondered what they would +have felt and thought if they had listened to the confident +assurance of Father Adam. If they had listened +to Bull Sternford himself, and learned to know him as +she had already learned to know him. The Skandinavia +was powerful, but was it powerful enough to deal as +they desired with this man who was as ready to fight as +to laugh?</p> + +<p>She shook her head. And it was a negative movement + +she was unaware of. Well, anyway, the game had begun, +and she was in it. Her duty was clear enough. And +meanwhile she would miss no opportunity to pull her +whole weight for her side, even when she knew that was +not the whole thought in her mind.</p> + +<p>But somehow there were things she regretted when +she remembered the fight ahead. She regretted the +moment when this man had saved her from almost +certain death against the iron stanchions and sides of +the <em>Myra</em>. She regretted his fine eyes, and he had +fine eyes which looked so squarely out of their setting. +Then, too, he had been so kindly concerned that she +should achieve the mission upon which she had embarked. +It would have been so easy and even exacting had he +been a man of less generous impulse. A man whom she +could have thoroughly disliked. But he was the reverse +of all those things which make it a joy to hurt. He +was—</p> + +<p>She pulled herself up and seized the pretty beaded +vanity bag lying ready to her hand. Then the telephone +rang.</p> + +<p>It was the cab which the porter had ordered, and she +hastily switched off the lights.</p> + +<p>On the way down in the elevator her train of thought +persisted. And long before she reached the Chateau, a +feeling that she was playing something of the part of +Delilah took hold of her and depressed her.</p> + +<p>But she was determined. Whatever happened her +service and loyalty was in support of her early benefactors, +and no act of hers should betray them.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The scene was pleasantly seductive. There was no +doubt or anxiety in Nancy McDonald's mind now. How +should there be? She was young. She was beautiful. +The man with whom she was dining was remarkable + +amongst the well-dressed throng that filled the great +dining-room. Then the dinner had been carefully considered.</p> + +<p>But it was the delightful surroundings, the little excitement +of it all that left the girl's thought care-free. +The shaded table lights. The wonderful flowers. The +dark panelling of the great room constructed and designed +in imitation of an old French Chateau. Then the throng +of beautifully gowned women, and the men who purposed +an evening of enjoyment. The soft music of the +distant string band and—oh, it was all dashed with a +touch of Babylonic splendour with due regard for the +decorum required by modern civilisation, and Nancy was +sufficiently young and unused to delight in every moment +of it.</p> + +<p>The first excitement of it all had spent itself, and +laughing comment had given place to those things with +which the girl was most concerned.</p> + +<p>"Folks can't accuse us of dilatoriness," she said. "Let's +see. Why, we made land this morning after every sort +of a bad passage, battered and worn, and in less than +how many hours?—eight?—nine?—" she laughed. +"Why, I guess a sewing bee wouldn't have got through +their preliminary talk in that time."</p> + +<p>"No." Bull too was in the mood for laughter. "A +sewing bee's mighty well named. There's a big buzz +mostly all the time, and the tally of work only needs +to be figgered when the season closes. We've settled up +the future of two enterprises liable to cut big ice in +this country's history in record time."</p> + +<p>"You've settled with Mr. Peterman?"</p> + +<p>"Roughly."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were shining with a smile of keen +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Nancy experienced a thrill of added excitement as she +disposed of her last oyster.</p> + + +<p>"I haven't a right to butt in asking too many questions," +she suggested.</p> + +<p>Bull tasted his wine and thoughtfully set his glass +down. Then he looked across at the eager face alight +with every question woman's curiosity and interest could +inspire. He smiled into it. And somehow his smile +was very, very gentle.</p> + +<p>"That's pretty well why we're here now though," he +said. "You can just ask all you fancy to know, and +I'll tell you. But maybe I can save you worry by telling +you first."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," Nancy said eagerly. "You see, I'm only +a secretary. I'm not one of the heads of the Skandinavia. +I sort of feel this is high policy which doesn't +really concern me. You're sure you feel like telling me? +Was Mr. Peterman—friendly?"</p> + +<p>"As amiable as a tame—shark."</p> + +<p>"That's pretty fierce."</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It's just a way of putting it. Y'see even a tame +shark don't get over a lifetime habit of swallowing most +things that come his way. Peterman figures to swallow +me—whole."</p> + +<p>Nancy's eyes widened. But the man's tone had been +undisturbed. There was a contented smile in his eyes, +and an atmosphere of unruffled confidence about him that +was rather inspiring. The girl felt its influence.</p> + +<p>"You mean he figures to have you join up with the +Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head as the waiter set the next course +on the table.</p> + +<p>"No. He guesses the Skandinavia can buy me."</p> + +<p>"I—see."</p> + +<p>Nancy waited. She remembered this man was as +ready to fight as to laugh. Somehow she scented the +battle in him now, for all the ease in his manner.</p> + + +<p>"I told him it couldn't. I pointed out if there was +any buying to be done I figgered to do it."</p> + +<p>"You mean you would buy up—the Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>Bull's smile deepened. The girl's incredulity amused +him. He understood. To her the Skandinavia Corporation +was the beginning and end of all things. In her eyes +it was the last word in power and influence and wealth. +She knew nothing beyond—the Skandinavia. A man in +her place would have received prompt and biting retort. +But she was a girl, and Bull was young, and strong, and +at the beginning of a great manhood. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Well, not just that," he said. "But say, let's get it +right. How'd a woman feel if she'd an elegant baby +child, thoroughbred from the crown of his dandy bald +head to the pretty pink soles of his feet? Just a small +bit of her, of her own creation. Then along comes some +big, swell woman, who's only been able to raise a no +account, sickly kid, an' wants to buy up the first mother's +bit of sheer love. Wouldn't she hear the sort of things +a woman of that sort ought to? Wouldn't she get hell +raised with her?"</p> + +<p>"But the Skandinavia's no—sickly kid."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes were challenging. There was warmth, +too, in her retort. His words had stirred her as he +intended them to stir her.</p> + +<p>"You think that?" he said. "You think that they +have the right to demand my—child? You approve? +That was your desire when you came to me—that +they should buy me up?"</p> + +<p>Bull's smile still remained. There was no shadow of +change in it. But his questions came in headlong +succession.</p> + +<p>Just for an instant a feeling of helplessness surged +through the girl's heart. Then it passed, leaving her quite +firm and decided. She looked squarely into the smiling +eyes, and hers were unsmiling but earnestly honest.</p> + + +<p>"My approval isn't of any concern. I knew that was +the Skandinavia's purpose when I came to you."</p> + +<p>"And you called it a business arrangement?"</p> + +<p>"No. You did."</p> + +<p>The man broke into a laugh. It was a laugh of sheer +amusement.</p> + +<p>"That's so," he said. "You were going to hand me +the story of your mission, and I—and I butted in and +told it to you—myself."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>"You were very good to me," she said. "You saw I +was going to flounder, and you took pity on me."</p> + +<p>Bull's denial was prompt.</p> + +<p>"I just short-circuited things. That's all," he said. +Then he laughed again. "And I'm going to do it again +right now. Here, I want you to hear things the way they +seem to me. You think the Skandinavia's no sickly kid. +Well, I tell you it is. Anyway, in this thing. Peterman +wants to buy me. Why? Don't you know? I think +you do. The Skandinavia's got a mighty bad scare right +now. The Shagaunty's played out. And I'm jumping +the market. For the practical purposes of the moment +the Skandinavia's mighty sick. So Peterman and his +friends reckon to buy me. You're wise to it all?"</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes were levelled squarely at the girl's. There +was a challenge in them. But there was no roughness. +It was his purpose to arrive at the full measure of the +girl's feelings and attitude, so far as this effort on the +part of his rivals was concerned.</p> + +<p>Nancy was swift to understand. In an ordinary way +her reply would have been prompt. There would have +been no hesitation. But, somehow, there was reluctance +in her now. She made no attempt to analyse her feelings. +All she knew was that this man had a great appeal for +her. He was so big, he was so strongly direct and fearless. +Then, too, his manner was so very gentle, and his + +expressive eyes so kindly smiling, while all the while +she felt the fierce resentment against her people going +on behind them.</p> + +<p>After a moment decision came to her rescue. She was +of the opposing camp. She could not, and would not, +pretend. It was clear that war lay ahead, and her position +must be that of an honest enemy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said simply. "I think I know all there is +to know about the position."</p> + +<p>She hesitated again. Then she went on in a fashion +that displayed the effort her words were costing.</p> + +<p>"We're out to buy you or break you, and I shall play +the part they assign me in the game. Oh, I've nothing +to hide. I've no excuse to make. You will fight your +battle, and we shall fight ours. Maybe we shall learn to +hate each other in the course of it. I don't know. Yet +there's nothing personal in the fight. That's the queer +thing in commercial warfare, isn't it? I'd be glad for +our two concerns to run right along side by side. But +they can't. They just can't. And, as I understand, +one or the other's got to go right to the wall before we're +through. Can't all this be saved? Must all this sort of—bloodshed—go +on? We're two great enterprises, and, +combined, we'd be just that much greater. Together +we'd rule the whole world's markets and dictate our own +terms. And then, and then—"</p> + +<p>"We'd be doing the thing I'm out to stop—if it costs +me all I have or am in this world."</p> + +<p>For a moment the man's eyes forgot to smile, and +Nancy was permitted to gaze on the great, absorbing +purpose his manner had hitherto held concealed. She +was startled at the passionate denial, and robbed of all +desire to reply.</p> + +<p>"Here!" Bull set his elbows on the table and supported +his chin on his hands. "Get this. Get it good, +and all the time. I wouldn't work with the Skandinavia + +for all the dollars this country's presses could print. +I'm not going to hand you the reason. Some day, maybe +when your folks have smashed me, or I've smashed +them, I'll tell you about it. But I tell you this now, +there's no sort of business arrangement I ever figgered +to enter into with Elas Peterman, and there's no sort +of thing in God's world ever could, or would, induce +me to come to any terms of his."</p> + +<p>Then his manner changed again, and his passionate +moment became lost in a great laugh.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'll want to know why I changed my plans +so easily, and came along down in a hurry to see Peterman. +Why I seemed ready to fall for his proposition. +Well, I guess I won't hand you the reason of that, either. +I'd like to, but I won't." He shook his head and his +laugh had gone again. "Anyway, it served my purpose, +and Peterman knows just how things stand—and are +going to stand—between us."</p> + +<p>"Then it's war? Ruthless, implacable—war?" There +was awe in the girl's tone and her lips were dry. She +sipped her wine quickly to moisten them, and set the +glass down with a hand that was not quite steady. Bull +saw the signs of distress.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it's war all right," he said quietly. "Maybe +it's ruthless, implacable. But it's part of the game. +Don't worry a thing. You're in the enemy lines. You've +got your duty. So far you've done your duty; and you've +made good, and will get the reward you need. Well, +go right on doing that duty, and there isn't a just +creature on God's earth that'll have right to blame +you. I won't blame you. Go right on; and when +it's all through, I'll be ready to sit here with you +again, and talk and laugh over it, as we've been +doing—"</p> + +<p>He broke off. A frightened look had leapt into Nancy's +eyes. She was no longer attending to him. She was + +watching the tall, squarely military figure of a man +moving down one of the aisles between the softly lit +tables. The man's dark eyes were searching over the +room, as he followed the head waiter conducting him to +the table that had been reserved for him. Bull turned +and followed the direction of the girl's gaze. And as he +did so he encountered the cold, unsmiling glance of the +other man's eyes. It was only for an instant. Then +he turned back to the girl.</p> + +<p>"Friend Peterman," he said.</p> + +<p>Nancy made a pretence of eating.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, without raising her eyes.</p> + +<p>Nancy's emotion was painfully obvious. Bull realised +it. She was afraid. Why? A swift thought flashed +through the man's mind, to be followed by a feeling +such as he had never known before. Hitherto Elas +Peterman had represented only a sufficiently worthy +adversary who must be encountered and defeated. Now, +all in a moment, that was changed into something fiercer, +more furiously human and abiding.</p> + +<p>"Does it matter?" he asked very quietly.</p> + +<p>Nancy looked up from her plate. There was a flicker +of a smile in the eyes that a moment before had expressed +only apprehension. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—yet," she said. Her smile deepened. +"You see, I refused to dine with him here to-night. I +excused myself on a plea of weariness. I really did want +rest. But—well, I didn't want to dine with him, anyway. +He's seen me—with you."</p> + +<p>"Do you often dine with him?"</p> + +<p>The man had no smile in response, and his question +came swiftly.</p> + +<p>"I've never dined with him."</p> + +<p>Bull sat back. His eyes were smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess the answer's easy. You're here fighting +for the Skandinavia. And I'd say you've been doing it + +mighty well. Maybe Peterman'll feel sore, but he'll see +it that way after—awhile."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_22"></a> +<h3>Chapter XIII—Deepening Waters</h3> + + +<p>Nancy thought long and earnestly over her breakfast. +She thought deeply as she proceeded to her office. Even +the business of again taking up the thread of her work +failed to absorb her.</p> + +<p>Apprehension disturbed, and a certain sense of guilt +weighed upon her. The vision of the tall figure of Elas +Peterman as it moved down the dining-room at the +Chateau remained with her. She had caught the glance +of his dark eyes. She knew he had recognised her; and +there had been neither smile nor recognition in the swift +exchange that had passed between them.</p> + +<p>So she answered the usual morning summons of her +chief without any pleasant anticipation. She expected a +bad time, and strove to prepare herself for it.</p> + +<p>But alarm vanished the moment she ushered herself +into the man's presence. He was not at his desk poring +over his littered correspondence. She found him standing +before his favourite window, gazing out reflectively +upon the grey light of the early winter day. He turned +at the sound of her entry, and his smile of greeting lacked +nothing of its usual cordiality.</p> + +<p>Had she observed him a moment before it must have +been different. But she had been spared all sight of the +mood that had driven him to abandon urgent correspondence +in favour of the drab outlook beyond the window. +It was a bad expression. It was the expression +of a man of fierce cruelty. It was not an expression of +open, hot anger, which flares up, passes, and is forgotten +like the fury of a summer storm. It was rather the slowly + +banking clouds of winter, piling up for a climax that +should be devastating. And through it all he had smiled, +smiled with angry eyes that seemed to grow colder and +harder every moment.</p> + +<p>Nancy knew little of the world, and less of men and +women. It could not have been otherwise. Vital with +a youthful optimism and strong purpose, she had devoted +herself to work to the exclusion of everything else. And +before that there had only been the scrupulous care of +the good matrons of Marypoint. A wider experience, a +maturer mind would have yielded her doubt as she beheld +the man's smiling greeting now. She would have +reminded herself of her offence, and understood its +enormity in the eyes of a man. She would have had +a better appreciation of her own attractions, and would +have long since understood this man's regard for her.</p> + +<p>As it was she snatched at the relief his smile inspired.</p> + +<p>The man laughingly shook his head as the girl +approached.</p> + +<p>"Nancy, my dear, I hope Mr. Bull Sternford gave you +as good a dinner as I would have given you, and—as +good a time generally. You look well rested, anyway."</p> + +<p>There was a sting in the words that all the man's care +could not quite shut out. But the tone was of intended +good-nature. In a moment Nancy was explaining.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know you must think me terribly mean," she +cried impulsively. "You must think I was just lying to +you when you asked me to dine yesterday. But it wasn't +so. It surely wasn't. May I tell you about it?"</p> + +<p>The man came back to his desk, and indicated the +empty chair beside it.</p> + +<p>"Sure, if you feel that way," he said, dropping +into his seat while Nancy took hers. "But I'm not +angry. Truth I'm not." For a moment he gazed +smilingly into the girl's troubled eyes. "Here," he +went on. "I'll tell you just how I think. Maybe you + +won't figger it flattering, but it's just plain truth. Now +I'm a married man and you're a young girl. Well, the +Chateau isn't the sort of place for you and me to be seen +together in. I didn't think of it when I asked you. I +just wanted to hand you a good time for the good work +you've done. Sort of prize for a good girl, eh? I hadn't +another thought about it. And when you refused me, +and I thought it over, I was kind of glad—I might have +compromised you, and I certainly would have compromised +myself. You get that? You understand me? +Of course you do. That's what I like. You're so darn +sensible. Now you tell me—if you fancy to?"</p> + +<p>Nancy sighed her relief. Her last cloud had passed +away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she began at once. "I do want to tell +you. You see I think it's all-important."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The man's smile was unchanged. But there was a +dryness in his monosyllable that only Nancy could have +missed.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sternford 'phoned me after his interview with +you."</p> + +<p>"He had your 'phone number?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, I gave him that before he left me after +driving up from the docks."</p> + +<p>"I see. Of course. You drove up together after landing. +I forgot."</p> + +<p>Nancy laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I told you," she said. "But it doesn't +matter, anyway. Yes, he drove me up. And the whole +of this affair was so interesting I just had to hear the +result of the interview with you. So I told him my 'phone +number. Well, right after he'd seen you he rang me up. +He told me he couldn't speak over the 'phone the things +that passed, and asked me to dine. I just had to fall +for that. You see, this thing meant so much to me. + +It was the first big thing I'd handled, and—and I was so +crazy to make good for you. So I promised. And it +wasn't till after it was all fixed I realised the mean way +I'd acted. You'll forgive me, won't you, Mr. Peterman? +I just hadn't a notion to be mean, and I was all tired to +death. But I had to hear about the things you'd fixed."</p> + +<p>"And you heard?"</p> + +<p>The man was leaning on the desk with one hand supporting +his head. Not one shadow of condemnation or +resentment was permitted in voice or look. And the +girl was completely disarmed. But her smile died out +and a swift apprehension, that had no relation to herself, +replaced it. In a moment her mind had gone back to +the declaration of war which was to involve the two +enterprises.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He told me."</p> + +<p>"And—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all wrong. It's all foolish, and wrong, and +just terrible," she broke in impulsively. Then she became +calmly thoughtful, and her even brows drew together +in an effort to straighten out the things she wanted +to say. She shook her head. "I'm sure he can be +handled," she went on deliberately. "Oh, yes. In spite +of the things they say of him."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Why he's as ready to fight as to laugh."</p> + +<p>"Who says that?"</p> + +<p>"That's the way they speak of him."</p> + +<p>"Who speaks that way?"</p> + +<p>Nancy laughed.</p> + +<p>"It was just a queer sort of missionary who told me. +I met him when I was at Arden Laval's camp. A man +they call Father Adam."</p> + +<p>Peterman nodded.</p> + +<p>"And you guess he can be handled?"</p> + +<p>"I think so." Nancy spread out her hands. "Oh, + +it's not for me to talk this way to you, Mr. Peterman, +but—but—"</p> + +<p>"Go on." The man was patiently reassuring as the +girl hesitated. "It's good to hear you talk. And then +it was you who got him to listen to our proposal at all."</p> + +<p>The compliment had prompt effect. The girl's cheeks +flushed, and a light of something approaching delight +shone in the hazel depths of her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she cried. "But it seems to me he's +sort of reasonable. He's kind of full of ideals and that +sort of notion. He's out for a big purpose and all that. +But I don't believe he'd turn down any business arrangement +that would hand him the thing he wants—"</p> + +<p>"Business arrangement?" Peterman sat up. The +laugh accompanying his words was full of amiable +derision. He shook his head. "If he won't sell he's got +to be smashed. That's the only business arrangement that +suits us. We're far too big for compromise. No, my +dear. He won't sell. He asked to buy us. He—this +darn fool man from Sachigo. He thinks to buy the +Skandinavia like he's buying up all the mills he can lay +hands on. But he bit off a chunk when he handed that +stuff to me. He's as ready to fight as to laugh. Well, +I guess he's going to get all the fight he needs. He'll +get it plenty."</p> + +<p>"Then you mean to—smash him?"</p> + +<p>"Just as sure as it's started to snow right now," the +man exclaimed, pointing at the window.</p> + +<p>Nancy's gaze followed the pointing finger. But it was +not the snow she was thinking of. It was the man whom +she beheld staggering under the tremendous weight of +the Skandinavia's might. She felt pity for him. And +incautiously she permitted Elas Peterman to realise her +pity.</p> + +<p>"Can't anything be done?" she ventured gently. +"Have you handled him? I mean—Oh, I'm sure he's + +reasonable. Can't the offer be made—more suitable? +More—?"</p> + +<p>Peterman's eyes suddenly hardened.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? I haven't handled him right? +I've blundered? I—" He laughed without any mirth. +"See here, Nancy, my dear, you're a bright girl, but don't +hand me your worry for this darn fool. You're kind of +tender-hearted. You guess it's a pretty tough thing to +see a good-looker boy go down in a big commercial fight. +That's because you're a woman. This sort of thing's +part of business. It's harsher, more ruthless than even +war on the battlefield with guns, and bombs, and stinking +gas. We're going to fight this thing just that way. +There's no mercy for Mr. Bull Sternford. He'll get all +I can hand him just the way I know best how to hand it. +And the tougher I can make it the better it'll please me. +See? Now you just run right along and see to those +things that are going to make you big in the Skandinavia, +and don't give a thought for the feller who's handed me +stuff I don't stand for in any man. There's liable to be +big work for you in this fight, and I'd say you'll make +as good in fight as in peace. You've got my goodwill +anyway, my dear, just for all it's worth. That's all."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The door had closed behind the girl. Elas Peterman +was on his feet pacing the thickly carpeted floor. There +was no longer any attempt at disguise. A surge of +jealous fury was raging through his hot heart and drove +him mercilessly.</p> + +<p>The picture of Nancy, radiantly beautiful, seated at +dinner with Bull Sternford had lit a fire of bitter hatred +in his Teutonic heart. So he paced the room and permitted +the fierce tide to flood the channels of sanity and +set them awash with the ready evil of his impulse.</p> + +<p>From the first moment of the girl's story of her + +successful effort with this man, Sternford, this vaunting +rival, Peterman had been bitterly stirred. The +man's change of plans at her bidding he had understood +on the instant. The man from Labrador had not changed +his plans at the bidding of the Skandinavia. It was the +girl who had induced him. It was she who had attracted +him. Then the boat trip, and the girl's confession of his +having, perhaps, saved her life. What had preceded +that incident? What had followed it? And when Elas +Peterman asked himself such questions it was simple +for him to find the answer. He had seen Sternford, and +had judged the position. He knew what would have +happened had he been in this man's place. Sternford +wasn't the man to throw away such chances, either. He +had fallen for the girl, and she doubtless had—The +picture he had witnessed at the Chateau had left him +without any doubt. The driving up together from the +docks, the telephone. Sternford had taken her to her +apartment. Oh, it was all as clear as daylight. Then +the girl's pity for the man who was to feel the weight of +the Skandinavia's wrathful might. She had said he was +reasonable. She had hinted that he, Peterman, had +blundered. There was only one reasonable interpretation +to the position. And it did not leave him guessing for +one single moment.</p> + +<p>Once he passed a fleshy hand up over his forehead and +brushed back his dark hair. Once he came to a pause +before his window and stood gazing out at the falling +snow with hot eyes. No such fury of jealousy had ever +entered into his life before. Never had he dreamed +before of the tremendous hold this girl had obtained +upon him. His claim on her had all seemed so natural, +so easy. He had looked upon her as property that was +indisputably his. He might have learned something from +his feelings when he had paraded her before Hellbeam. +But he had not done so. Now he knew. Now he knew + +the whole measure of them. And the bitterness of his +awakening was maddening.</p> + +<p>Well, Bull Sternford should get away with no play of +that sort at his expense. He warned himself that he was +no simple fool to be played with. And if Nancy wanted +the man— But he broke away from under the lash of +impotent fury, and turned to a channel of thought which +was bound to serve a nature such as his in his present +mood.</p> + +<p>He returned to his desk and flung himself into the +chair. And after a while his mind settled itself to the +task his mood demanded. He sat staring straight ahead +of him, and presently the heat passed out of his eyes, and +they grew cold, and hard. Later, they began to smile +again—but it was a smile of cruelty, of evil purpose. It +was a smile more unrelenting in its cruelty than any +frown could have expressed.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>For the first time Nancy's eyes were open to the things +of life as they really were. She had tasted a certain +bitterness in the early days of her girlhood. But up till +now the world had seemed something of a rose garden +in which it was a delight to labour. Up till now she had +seen no reverse to the picture of life as youth had painted +it for her. Now, however, it was borne in upon her +that there was a reverse, a reverse that was ugly and +painfully distressing. It was this declaration of war +between her own people and the man from Labrador.</p> + +<p>She lay in her bed that night thinking, thinking, and +without any desire for sleep. Strive as she would to +search the position out logically, to estimate the true +meaning of it all, to fathom the chances of this war, and +to grasp the necessity for it, all these efforts only resulted +in a tangle of thought revolving about the picture of a +youthful man of vast stature, with eyes that were always +clear-searching or smiling, and with a head of hair that + +reminded her of a lion's mane. And as she gazed upon +this mental picture there were moments when it seemed +to her there was grave trouble in the clear depths which +so appealed to her. The smile in her eyes seemed to fade +out, to be replaced by a look that seemed to express +the hurtful knowledge of a man disheartened, defeated, +crushed. They were in rival camps. They were at war. +Each desired victory. And yet the sight she beheld, the +signs of defeat she discovered in the man's eyes gave +her no joy, no satisfaction.</p> + +<p>She felt that the battle could end only one way. The +might of the Skandinavia was too great for anything +but its complete victory. She was sure, quite sure. Oh, +yes. And she knew she would not have it otherwise. +But the pity of it. This creature of splendid manhood. +To think that he must go down—smashed. That was +the word they used—smashed.</p> + +<p>How she hated the word. The big soul of him with +his ready kindliness. Oh, it was a pity. It was a distracting +thought. And why should it be? For the life +of her she could see no need. A little yielding on his +part. Just a shade less iron stubbornness. The whole +thing could have been avoided she was sure. The olive +branch had been held out by the Skandinavia. But he +had deliberately refused it.</p> + +<p>No. He had made himself their enemy. Then surely +there could be no complaint at the disaster that would +overtake him. He was clearly to blame. So why let +the contemplation of it distract her?</p> + +<p>She strove a hundred times to dismiss the whole thing +from her mind. She courted sleep in every conceivable +way. But it was all useless. The man's fine eyes and +great body haunted her. They pursued her to her last +waking thought. And, at last, she fell asleep, thinking of +the strong supporting arms that had held her safe from +the fury of Atlantic waves.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_23"></a> +<h3>Chapter XIV—The Planning Of Campaign</h3> + + +<p>Nathaniel Hellbeam sat ominously calm and unruffled +while Elas Peterman told of his meeting with Bull Sternford. +He gave no sign whatever. There was just the +flicker of a smile of appreciation of Bull's effrontery +when he heard of his response to Peterman's invitation +to sell. That alone of the whole story seemed to afford +him interest. For the rest, it had only been the sort of +thing he expected.</p> + +<p>He waited until the other had finished. Then he +stirred in his chair. It was an expression of relief that +his long, silent sitting had ended.</p> + +<p>"So," he said. "We do not buy him. No. We +smash him."</p> + +<p>There was obvious satisfaction that the more peaceful +process was to be set aside.</p> + +<p>He sat blinking at his subordinate in the fashion of a +man who is thinking hard, and has no interest in the +object upon which he is gazing.</p> + +<p>"It is as I think—all the time," he said at last. "That +is all right. I make no cry out. It is easy to fight. I +would fight always with an enemy. It is good. Now +my friend, you have acted so. You bring the man from +Sachigo to tell you to go to hell. Eh? Well you have +thought much? You have planned for the fight? How +is it you make this fight?"</p> + +<p>Elas was standing before the desk. He had, yielded +his place to this man who was master of the Skandinavia. +Now he looked down at the square-headed creature with +his gross, squat body. It was a figure and face bristling +with venom and purpose; and somehow he was conscious +of a sudden lack of his usual assurance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he replied thoughtfully. "I've planned—sure. + +But I guess I'm in the dark a bit. It's going to +cost a deal. It's not going to be easy. You were ready +to buy. It was not necessarily to be the Skandinavia +who bought. Well, are you—going to vote the credit +for this fight?" He smiled uncertainly. "And to what +extent?"</p> + +<p>"The limit. Go on."</p> + +<p>Peterman nodded.</p> + +<p>"There's no commercial enterprise that can stand idleness. +His work must stop. His—"</p> + +<p>"That is the A.B.C. of it."</p> + +<p>There was sharp impatience in the financier's biting +tone.</p> + +<p>"Just so. It is the A.B.C. of it."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam set back in his chair. He clasped his hands +across his stomach.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," he said, a wicked smile lighting his +deep-set eyes, his cheeks rounding themselves in his +satisfaction. "His work will stop. His mill is far +away. There is no protection from attack except that +which he can set up himself. He is going away. He will +have eighteen hundred miles of water between him and +his mill. It should be easy with a good plan and all the +money. Listen.</p> + +<p>"His work must stop. How? There are ways. His +mill may burn. His forests may burn. His men may +revolt. They may refuse to work for him. All, or any +of these things may serve. There are men at all times +ready to carry out these things. You can tell them, or +you need not, the way they must act." He shook his +head. "You say to them his work must stop; and you +pay them more than he can pay them. So his work will +stop. That is so? Yes? Very well. There is ha'f a +million dollars that will pay for his work to stop. I say +that."</p> + +<p>Peterman was startled. He had not been prepared for + +so sweeping a proposal. He had understood that the +man had been prepared to stand at almost nothing in +his desire to achieve some end, the nature of which still +remained somewhat obscure to him. For all his own +lack of scruple in his dealings with those who offended, +the calm, fiendish purpose of this man shocked him not +a little.</p> + +<p>He took the chair usually occupied by his visitors.</p> + +<p>"You will pay ha'f a million dollars for this thing?" +he demanded, to re-assure himself.</p> + +<p>Self-satisfaction looked out of the eyes of the man +behind the desk.</p> + +<p>"More—if necessary."</p> + +<p>"By God! You must hate this boy, Sternford."</p> + +<p>Peterman's feelings had broken from under his control.</p> + +<p>"Sternford? Psha! It is not Sternford. No."</p> + +<p>The smile had gone from Hellbeam's eyes. They were +fiercely burning. They were the hot, passionate eyes of +a man obsessed, of a man possessed of a monomania. +Peterman, watching, beheld the sudden change in him. +He shrank before the insanity he had so deeply probed.</p> + +<p>Hellbeam sat forward in his chair. His forearms were +resting on the desk, and his hands were clenched so that +the finger-nails almost cut into the flesh of their palms. +His massive face was flushed, and the coarse veins at +his temples stood out like cords.</p> + +<p>"Here, I tell you," he cried gutturally, returning in his +fury to the native Teuton in him. "Can you hate—yes? +Have you known hate? Eh? No. You the white liver +have. You cannot hate. It is not in you. Oh, no. It +is for me. Yes. It has been so for years. And I tell +you it is the only thing in life. Woman? No. I have +known them. They mean little. They are a pleasure that +passes. Money? What is it when you play the market +as you choose? The day comes when you can help +yourself. And you no longer desire so to do. Hate? + +That lives. That feeds on body and brain. That consumes +till there is only a dead carcase left. Ah! Hate +is for the lifetime. It can leave all those others as nothing. +In it there is joy, despair, all the time, every hour of life."</p> + +<p>He held up one hand and opened his fingers. Then +he slowly closed them with a curious expressive movement +of ruthless destruction.</p> + +<p>"You hate and you think. You see your vengeance in +operation. You see him there in your hand; and you +see the blood sweat as you squeeze and crush out the +life that has offended. Man, it is a joy that never leaves +you till you accomplish this thing. Then, after, you +have the memory. And while you think, even though +he is dead, smashed in your grip, he still suffers as you +think. Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And you hate—that way?"</p> + +<p>A feeling of sudden fear had taken possession of +Peterman. This gross, squat man had become something +terrible to him.</p> + +<p>"Ja!"</p> + +<p>The Teuton leapt in the furious emphasis hurled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ja! I hate. I tell you of it."</p> + +<p>The man with the insane eyes picked up a pen. He +turned it about in his fingers. Then, suddenly, but +slowly, the fingers began to break it. The wood split +under their pressure, and the pieces littered the table. +He gazed at them for a moment. Then one hand clenched +and came down with a crash on the blotting pad. Then +he sat back in his chair again, with his cruel eyes gazing +straight out at the window opposite.</p> + +<p>"It is years now. Oh, yes." A deep breath escaped +from between the man's coarse lips. "I ruled the markets. +I ruled them so that they obeyed me. I was the money +power of this continent. I did as I chose. So I thought. +Then he came. This man. He did not disturb me. Oh, +no. I slept good all the time. Then I woke. I woke + +to find I was beaten of ten million dollars; and that Wall +Street, the markets of the world, were laughing that this +schoolmaster, this fool Scotsman from over the water, +had picked my pocket while I slept. It was not the money. +It was the laugh. And he got away. Oh, yes. I tell +it now. The market knew of it then. They laughed. +How they laughed. So I sat and thought. I had all. +There was nothing more to have. And then I learned to +hate."</p> + +<p>The narrowed eyes came back to the face of the man +beside the desk. There was a sharp intake of breath.</p> + +<p>"This mill, this Sachigo, was built out of my money. +And the man who built it was the man who robbed me +while I slept."</p> + +<p>A world of fierce bitterness lay in the final words, and +the man listening realised the enormity of the offence, as +this man saw it. But he was left puzzled.</p> + +<p>"But you would have—bought this Sachigo?" he said, +said.</p> + +<p>Hellbeam's eyes were again turned to the window.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said. "I would have bought. It would +bring me to meet this man. It is that I ask. That only. +My hands would close upon him. And I would see the +blood sweat of his heart ooze under them."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam had finished. Peterman understood that. +The passion had passed out of his eyes and the veins of +his forehead were no longer distended. He remained +gazing at the window.</p> + +<p>For some moments the younger man made no attempt +to intrude further. He had little desire to, anyway. +Without scruple himself, he still found little pleasure in +probing the heart of this man, who was so powerful in +his own destiny. That which he had witnessed had +served only to show him the delicacy of his own position. +He knew that the story had been told for one reason only. +It was to convince him, for the sake of his own wellbeing + +in the Skandinavia, that he must make no mistake +in the warfare he must wage against the people of Sachigo. +It was for him to wage the battle with every faculty that +was in him; and any failure of his would mean disaster +for himself. This was no commercial warfare. It was +the insane purpose of a monomaniac.</p> + +<p>In those silent moments Elas Peterman thought with a +rapidity inspired by the urgency he felt to be driving +him. And the fertility of his imagination served him +unfailingly. Oh yes. Necessity was driving. But so, +too, was his own personal feelings. He saw in the position +that this man had revealed an advantage to himself +he had never looked for. With the necessary money +forthcoming, and no directors to concern himself with, +literally a free hand, he could employ a power which, in +these days of unrest and hatred between capital and +labour, would be well-nigh overwhelming. The morality +of it, the ultimate consequence of it mattered nothing. +The smashing of Sachigo would mean the smashing of +Bull Sternford. And he saw a way whereby the smashing +of Bull Sternford could be achieved through—</p> + +<p>His mind focused itself, as it was bound to do, upon +this thing as it affected his own desires. He, too, was a +passionate hater, for all Hellbeam's denial. His thought +leapt at once to Nancy McDonald and the man who had +thrust himself between him and his desires. Whatever +insane hatred lay behind Hellbeam's purpose, it was not +one whit more insensate than Elas Peterman's feelings +against the man who had come down from Sachigo at +Nancy's bidding.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he looked up and glanced at the man occupying +the chair that was his. Hellbeam was still gazing +at the window, pre-occupied with his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"You can leave this thing in my hands, sir," he said. +"Our organisation has been working steadily to undermine +the Sachigo people for months past. That has + +always been part of our policy. I'd say the whole thing's +going to fit very well. You say, if necessary, you'll find +half a million dollars for the business. We shan't need +a tithe of that. However, it's well to know it. And +none of it needs to worry our directors. I'll set about it +right away—in my own fashion—and I'll promise you a +quick result. We'll smash these folk all right. But how +it's to hand you the man you need I'm not wise—"</p> + +<p>"No." Hellbeam's eyes were certainly derisive as they +turned back from the window. "This man, Martin, +will show himself when he sees the—destruction. My +people will do the rest."</p> + +<p>"Unless he leaves it—to Sternford. They tell us this +man would as soon fight as laugh. That's how Miss +McDonald said the missionary, Father Adam, told her."</p> + +<p>"Father Adam?" The derision in the financier's eyes +had deepened. "That's the man that other fool talks of."</p> + +<p>Peterman shrugged. The sting in the financier's words +stirred him to resentment.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. Anyway—"</p> + +<p>"How is it you say? Get busy. Yes."</p> + +<p>Hellbeam rose stiffly from his seat and picked up his +hat. He was quite untouched by the other's change +of tone.</p> + +<p>"Do it how you please. Break that mill. I care nothing +for the means. Smash 'em, and leave the rest to +me. And when you that have done you can do the thing +you please. You will have my good will. I say that. +Now I go."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Peterman picked up the 'phone the moment the door +had closed behind the one man in all the world he really +feared, and at the other end of it Nancy took the message +summoning her to his presence. The man spoke with +unusual urgency. But his tone was pleasant, and more + +than conciliatory. He wanted her at once. She could +leave her reports. She could leave everything. He had +some news for her of the pleasantest nature. Oh, yes. +He had determined big things for her. She had earned +them all. But a thing had happened whereby there +need be no limit to her advancement if she would take +the chance of a big work offered her. Would she kindly +come up right away.</p> + +<p>Nancy listened to this message with a stirring of heart. +What was the great work that was to place no limit on +her advancement? It was a feeling rather than a thought. +For a moment she stood in her glass-partitioned office +after she had received the message and a smile of great +happiness lit her eyes.</p> + +<p>She was desperately earnest with a singleness of purpose +which had in it something of the recklessness of the +father before her. She was a child in all else. A wide +vision of achievement was spread out before her. She +could see nothing beyond. She could see nothing to give +her pause, nothing even to bestir a belated caution. +So she left her office for the interview Peterman had +demanded without suspicion, and with a heart and mind +ready to plunge her headlong into any labours which +the Skandinavia demanded of her.</p> + +<p>She had completely forgotten, in that moment of +exultation, the squarely military figure that had passed +down the dining-room of the Chateau, and the coldly +unsmiling eyes with which it had regarded her as she sat +with her companion over their memorable meal.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_24"></a> +<h3>Chapter XV—The Sailing Of The <em>Empress</em></h3> + + +<p>Bull Sternford was reading over the telegram he had +just written. Its phraseology was curious. But it expressed + +the things he wanted to say, and he knew it would +be understood by the man to whom it was addressed.</p> + +<div class="display"> +<p>"HARKER, SACHIGO, LABRADOR.</p> + +<p>"Sailing to-morrow. War. Pass mill through hair sieve. +Clear all refuse. Watch fireguard. Look around. Plums +otherwise ripe. Return earliest date.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">"BULL."</p> +</div> + +<p>He smiled as he looked up from his reading. An +acquaintance passed through the hall of the hotel. He +nodded to him. Then the smile died out of his eyes, and +it was like the passing of a gleam of sunshine. He passed +the message across the counter to the attendant and paid +for it.</p> + +<p>War! It was only an added development in the course +of the ceaseless work of life. The thought of it disturbed +him not one whit. It was the element in which he thrived. +But for all that his mood had lost much of its usual +equanimity.</p> + +<p>For two weeks he had applied himself assiduously to +the work upon which he was engaged. He had travelled +hundreds of miles to the other capital cities of the country +in pursuit of his affairs. He had worked in that express +fashion which was characteristic of him. But under it +all, through it all, a depressing disappointment hung like +a shadow over every successful effort he put forth. The +memory of an evening at the Chateau haunted him. +The vision of smiling hazel eyes and a radiant crowning +of vivid hair filled every moment of his waking dreaming. +He had not seen or heard of Nancy McDonald since that +first night in Quebec.</p> + +<p>To-morrow he sailed for England. The thought of it +afforded him none of the satisfaction with which he had +always looked forward to that journey. Yet it meant +no less to him now. On the contrary. It really meant +more. It meant that his work was marching forward + +to the great completion which was to crown his labours, +and the work of those others who had conceived the +task.</p> + +<p>It should have been a wonderful moment for him. The +house of Leader and Company of London had thrown +its doors open to him in welcome. Sir Frank Leader with +his millions, his shipping, his great power, and the confidence +which his name inspired in British commercial +circles, would not fail. The prospect lying ahead, for +all the threatened war, should have stirred him to a keen +enthusiasm that achievement was within his grasp. But +none of these emotions were stirring.</p> + +<p>He felt if he could only see Nancy McDonald, that perfect +creature with her amazing beauty and splendid +courage, just to exchange a few words, just to receive +her smiling "bon voyage," and even to hear her laughing +declaration of her frank enmity, why—it would—But +there was no chance now—none at all. He sailed to-morrow.</p> + +<p>He had dreamed a wonderful dream since first he had +beheld the charming fur-clad figure enter his office at +Sachigo. He had realised, even in those first moments, +the impish act of Fate. Nancy McDonald was the one +woman in the world who could mean life—real life to +him, and they were definitely arrayed against each other +in the battle for commercial supremacy in which they +were both engaged.</p> + +<p>But Fate's act had only added to his desire. The +whole thing had appealed to his combative instinct. It +had left him feeling there was not alone the storming of +the Skandinavia's stronghold to be achieved. There was +also a captive, a fair, innocent captive held bound and +prisoned within the citadel for him to set free. He +wanted Nancy as he wanted nothing else in the world. +Sachigo? Canada for the Canadians? These things +were cold, meaningless words. He only thought of the + +dawning of the day that should see Nancy his wife, his +everything in life.</p> + +<p>He betook himself out on to the Terraces overlooking +the slowly freezing waterway of the great St. Lawrence +river. It was keenly cold, and the white carpet of +winter's first snow remained unmelted on the ground. +But the sun was shining, and the crisp air was sparkling, +and the terraces were filled with fur-clad folk who, like +himself, had found leisure for a half hour of one of the +finest views in the world.</p> + +<p>He paced leisurely down the great promenade towards +the old Citadel with all its memories of great men, and +the old time Buccaneers who had made history about +its walls. He gazed upon it and wondered. Were they +such bad old days? Were the men who lived in those +times great men? Were they scoundrelly Buccaneers? +Were their scruples and morals any more lax than those +of to-day? Were they any different from those who +walked under the shadow of the old walls? They were +the questions doubtless asked a thousand times in as +many minutes by those who paused to think as they +contemplated this fine old landmark.</p> + +<p>Bull found his own prompt answers. There was no +difference, he told himself. The men and women of to-day +were doing the same things, enduring the same emotions, +fighting the same battles, living and loving, and hating +and dying, just as life had ordained from the beginning +of time. And as he stood there he wondered how long +this round of human effort and passion must continue. +How long this—</p> + +<p>"Why, I hadn't an idea you were so interested in our +old history as to be wasting precious time out here in +the snow, Mr. Sternford."</p> + +<p>The challenge was full of pleasant, even delighted +greeting. And Bull snatched his cigar from his lips and +bared his head.</p> + + +<p>It was the voice he had longed to hear for many days. +And it rang with an added charm in his delighted ears. +He had turned on the instant, and stood smiling down +into eyes that had never ceased from their haunting.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"If you'll believe me I wasn't wasting time," he said. +"I came out here for a very definite purpose. I've done +the thing I hoped. Do you know I guessed I'd have to +sail to-morrow without seeing you again?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's eyes sobered. And without their smile Bull +thought he detected a cloud of trouble in them.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were sailing to-morrow," she said. +"It's just a chance I couldn't help that let me meet you +now."</p> + +<p>"You mean you avoided me—deliberately?"</p> + +<p>Bull's smile had passed. But there was no umbrage +in his manner. The girl's appeal for him was never so +great as at that moment. She had never been more beautiful +to him. He had first seen her in that same long +fur coat, and had gazed into her pretty eyes under the +same fur cap. He was glad she was so clad now. To his +mind no other costume could have so much charm for +him.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The simple downrightness of the admission might have +disconcerted another. But its honesty and lack of subterfuge +only pleased the man.</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought. It's this business standing +between your folk and me?"</p> + +<p>Nancy nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. We are enemies."</p> + +<p>"That's so," Bull agreed. "That's the pity of it. If +you were on my side—"</p> + +<p>"But I'm not. No." Nancy's denial was almost sharp. +It certainly was hurried. "I'm kind of glad I've seen +you, though," she went on. "I've had it in mind I wanted + +to say things to you." A smile came back to her eyes. +"You see, there are enemies and enemies. There's the +enemy you can regard well. There's the enemy you can +hate and despise. Well, I just want to say we're enemies +who don't need to hate and despise—yet. I don't know +how things'll be later. Maybe you'll learn to hate me +good before we're through. But that's as maybe. I'm +going to do my work for all I know for my folks. I'm +going to be in this fight right up to my neck. I've been +warned that way. Well, that being so, I'm going to fight +without looking for quarter, and I shall give none. That +sounds tough, doesn't it? But I mean it. And I wanted +to say it before things start. I'm glad I've had the chance—against +my notions of things."</p> + +<p>Bull laughed. He was in the mood to laugh—now.</p> + +<p>"It sounds fine. Say—"</p> + +<p>"Are you laughing at me?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't a thing further from my thoughts." +Bull's denial was sincere and prompt. "I'm glad you +happened along. I'm glad you said those things. Fight +this war—as I shall—with all that's in you. It don't +matter a thing if you're right or wrong. Fight it square +and hard for your folk, and there isn't a right man or +woman, but who'll respect you, and think the better of +you for it. A good fight's no crime when you're convinced +you're right."</p> + +<p>The girl drew a deep breath, and, to the man, it seemed +in the nature of relief. A great anxiety for her stirred +him.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you said that," she said. Then she gazed +reflectively up at the old ramparts. "No. It's no +crime to fight when you're convinced. Besides it's right, +too, to fight for your side at any time. That's how I see +it. You'll fight for yours—"</p> + +<p>"Any old how." Bull's eyes were deeply regarding. +They were very gentle. "Here," he went on, "fight has + +a clear, definite meaning for me. I fight to win. I'll +stop at nothing. It's always a game of 'rough and +tough' with me. Gouge, chew, and all the rest of it. +Frankly, there's a devil inside me, when it's fight. I want +you to know this, so your scruples needn't worry you."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Nancy's gaze was turned seawards.</p> + +<p>"And you sail—to-morrow? When do you return?" +she asked a moment later.</p> + +<p>Bull smilingly shook his head.</p> + +<p>"We are at war," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes came back. She, too, smiled.</p> + +<p>"I forgot." Then she added: "You go by the <em>Empress</em>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>They had both contrived to make it difficult. The +barrier was growing. Both realised it, and Nancy was +stirred more than she knew. She had seen this man +and hurried over to him. She had purposely denied him +for two weeks, but the sight of him on the promenade had +been irresistible. Now—now she hardly knew what to +say; and yet there were a hundred things struggling in +her mind to find expression. She was paralysed by the +memory of the recent interview she had had with her +employers—the great financial head of her house included—wherein +she had learned all that the coming war +meant personally to herself. She would have given worlds +at that moment to have been able to blot out that memory. +But she had no power to do so. It loomed almost tragically +in its significance in the presence of this man.</p> + +<p>Bull found it no less difficult. He had striven to make +things easy for her. He had no second thought. And +now he realised the thing he had done. His words had +only served to fling an irrevocable challenge, and thus, +finally and definitely, made the longed-for approach between +them impossible.</p> + + +<p>He drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I sail on the <em>Empress</em>."</p> + +<p>"And you are glad—of course?"</p> + +<p>Bull laughed.</p> + +<p>"Some ways."</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I shouldn't be sailing if things weren't going +my way," he said. Then he turned about and his movement +was an invitation. "But let's quit it," he said. +"Let's forget—for the moment. You don't know what +this meeting has meant to me. I wanted to see you, if +only to say 'good-bye.' I thought I wasn't going to."</p> + +<p>They moved down the promenade together.</p> + +<p>Nancy did her best. They talked of everything but +the impending war, and the meaning of it. But the +barrier had grown out of all proportion. And a great +unease tugged at the heart of each. At length, as they +came back towards the hotel, Nancy felt it impossible to +go on. And with downright truth she said so.</p> + +<p>"It must be 'good-bye'—now," she said. "This is all +unreal. It must be so. We're at war. We shall be at +each other's throats presently. Well, I just can't pretend. +I don't want to think about it. I hate to remember +it. But it's there in my mind the whole time; and it +worries so I don't know the things I'm saying. It's best +to say 'good-bye' and 'bon voyage' right here. And +whatever the future has for us I just mean that."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand. It was bare, and soft, and +warm, as the man took possession of it.</p> + +<p>"I feel that way, too," he said. "But—" he broke +off and shook his head. "No. It's no use. You've the +right notion of this. Until this war's fought out there +is nothing else for it. You'll go right back to your +camp and I'll go to mine. And we'll both work out how +we can best beat the other. But let's make a compact. +We'll do the thing we know to hurt the other side the + +most we can. If need be we'll neither show the other +mercy. And we'll promise each to take our med'cine as +it comes, and cut out the personal hate and resentment +it's likely to try and inspire. We'll be fighting machines +without soul or feeling till peace comes. Then we'll be +just as we are now—friends. Can you do it? I can."</p> + +<p>For all the feeling of the moment Nancy laughed.</p> + +<p>"It sounds crazy," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It is crazy. But so is the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, it surely is. It's worst than crazy." +Passion rang in the girl's voice. Then the hazel depths +smiled and set the man's pulses hammering afresh. +"But I'll make that compact, and I'll keep it. Yes. +Now, 'good-bye,' and a happy and pleasant trip."</p> + +<p>Their hands fell apart. Bull had held that hand, so +soft and warm and appealing to him, till he dared hold +it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said. "Good-bye. I can set out with +a good heart—now."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>It was again the luncheon hour. It was also the hour +at which the <em>Empress</em> was scheduled to sail. Nancy was +again on the Terrace. But now she was standing on the +edge of the promenade—alone. She was gazing down +at the grey waters of the great river, searching with +eager eyes, and listening for the "hoot" of the vessel's +siren. This was the last departure the <em>Empress</em> would +make from Quebec for the season. By the time she +returned across the ocean the ice would deny her +approach, and she would make port farther seawards.</p> + +<p>Nancy had come there in her leisure just out of simple +interest, she told herself. The man was nothing to her. +Oh, no. She felt a certain regret that they were at war. +She felt a certain pity that it was necessary that so brave +a man's hopes must be crushed and all his plans broken, + +but that was all. She told herself these things very +deliberately.</p> + +<p>And so she had hurried over her mid-day meal, lest +she should miss the sight of the <em>Empress</em> steaming out, +with Bull Sternford aboard.</p> + +<p>The day was cold and grey. There was snow in the +heavy clouds, and the north wind was bitter. But it +mattered nothing. Waiting there the girl's feet in their +overshoes grew cold. Her hands were cold. Even her +slim, graceful body under its outer covering of fur was +none too warm. But her whole interest was absorbed and +she remained so till the appointed time.</p> + +<p>Oh, yes. It was simply interest in the departure of +the vessel that held her. Just the same, as it was simply +interest that stirred her heart and set it a-flutter, as the +sound of the ship's siren came up to her from below. And +surely it was only a 'God-speed' to the departing +vessel that was conveyed in the fluttering handkerchief +she held out and waved, as the graceful giant passed out +into the distant mid-channel.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_25"></a> +<h3>Chapter XVI—On Board The <em>Empress</em></h3> + + +<p>It was the second day out and the passengers on the +<em>Empress</em> had already settled down to their week's trip.</p> + +<p>The sea was calm, with just that pleasant, lazy swell +which the Atlantic never really loses. The decks were +thronged with a happy company of men and women +determined not to lose one single moment of the bodily +ease which the clemency of the weather vouchsafed to +them.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was amongst them. Engulfed in a +heavy fur overcoat, he stood lounging against the lee rail + +of the wide promenade deck, contemplating the oily +swell of the waters. His great stature was somewhat +magnified by his voluminous coat, with its deep, upturned +storm-collar. There was that about him to +attract considerable attention. But he remained unconscious +of it, and his aloofness was by no means studied.</p> + +<p>Deep emotion was stirring. A man of iron nerve and +purpose, a man of cool deliberation under the harshest +circumstances, just now Bull was afflicted like the veriest +weakling with alternating hope and doubt, and something +approaching indecision. The youth in him was +plunged in that agony of desire which maddens with +delight and drives headlong to despair. His whole +horizon of life had changed. Old scenes, old dreams, had +been suddenly blotted out. And in their place was the +wonderful vision of a girl with vivid hair and gentle eyes. +Nancy—Nancy McDonald. The name was always with +him now, unspoken, unwhispered even; but occupying +every waking thought.</p> + +<p>It was a time of reckless resolve, of hot-headed +planning. He knew in his sober moments how almost +impossible was the position. But these were not sober +moments. He told himself, in his headlong way, that if +Nancy was chained in the heart of Hell he would seek +her out, and claim her. She should be his even though +every infernal power were arrayed against him. His eyes +were alight with a fierce smile, as he contemplated the +grey waters. It was a smile of conscious strength, of +reckless purpose. Well, he was ready. He was—</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll git this sort of stuff all the way."</p> + +<p>Bull started and swung around. A fur-coated man with +a dark close-cropped beard was leaning over the rail +beside him. He was expensively clad. His astrachan +collar was turned up about his neck to shut out something +of the biting winter air; and a cap of similar fur was +pressed low down over his dark head. Bull noted the + +man's appearance, and his reply was promptly +forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"Maybe," he admitted without interest.</p> + +<p>"Sure we will. It's always that way with the +<em>Empress's</em> last trip of the season from Quebec. I most +generally make it for that reason. Your first trip?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"It's my nineteenth. You see," the stranger went on, +"I can't spare summer time. I'm too full gettin' orders +out. I'm in the lumber business. It's only with the +freeze up I can quit my mills. Have a cigar?"</p> + +<p>Bull had no alternative. The man was there to talk, +and his desire to do so was frankly displayed.</p> + +<p>"I won't smoke, thanks," Bull replied without offense. +"It's too near dinner."</p> + +<p>"Dinner? There's a ha'f hour to the dressing bugle." +The stranger returned the elaborate case stuffed full of +large, expensive cigars to his pocket, and drew out a gold +cigarette case instead. "Still I don't blame you a thing. +Cigars? Me for a cigarette all the time. I don't guess +any feller ever heard tell of tobacco, till he'd inhaled a +good, plain Virginia Cigarette."</p> + +<p>Bull looked on while the man wasted half-a-dozen +matches lighting his beloved cigarette. He was not +without interest. There was a slightly Jewish caste +about his face which was frankly smiling, and lit with +shrewd, twinkling dark eyes. He conveyed, too, somewhat +blatantly, an atmosphere of abounding prosperity.</p> + +<p>Bull laughed as the cigarette was finally lighted.</p> + +<p>"That's better," he said. "Now—you can inhale."</p> + +<p>"Sure I can." The man's smile was full of amiability. +"Inhale anything. Say, up in the camps I've inhaled +tea-leaves rolled in cracker paper before now. Ever hit +a lumber camp?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + + +<p>"But not out West? British Columbia?"</p> + +<p>"No. Only Quebec."</p> + +<p>The stranger shook his head disparagingly.</p> + +<p>"Quebec! Psha! Quebec ain't a thing. It ain't a +circumstance," he said complacently. "No, sir. The +West. That's the place for lumbering. B.C. West of +the Rockies. Man, it's the world's greatest proposition. +The place you can spend a lifetime cutting ninety foot +baulks, and lose track of where you cut. Quebec's +mostly small stuff," he went on contemptuously, "pulp-wood +an' that." He shook his head. "It's no place for +capital. And, anyway, the Frenchies have got the whole +darn place taped out. Oh, they're wise—the Frenchies. +If a feller's lookin' to get ahead of 'em he needs to stake +out the Arctic, where you'd freeze the ears of a brass +image. The Frenchies got it all. The only big stuff lies +on Labrador, anyway. I know. I prospected. No, it's +me for the big hills, West. The big hills and the big +waterways that 'ud leave Quebec rivers looking like a +leak in a bone dry bar'l. My name's Aylin P. Cantor, +Vancouver, B.C. Maybe you know the name?"</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm not—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it don't matter," interjected Mr. Cantor. "You +see, the West's one hell of a long way—west. I just +didn't get your—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my name's Sternford."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cantor's face beamed.</p> + +<p>"Why I'm glad to know you, Mr. Sternford," he +exclaimed. Then a quick, enquiring upward glance of +his shrewd eyes suggested recollection. "But say—you +ain't Sternford of Labrador? The groundwood outfit +up at—up at—"</p> + +<p>"Sachigo?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, sure. Guess I'd lost the name a moment."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded amusedly.</p> + + +<p>"Yes. That's where I hail from. And, as you say, +there's big stuff up there, too."</p> + +<p>"Big? Why I'd say. Well, now! That's fine! +I've heard tell big yarns of Labrador. It's just great +meeting—"</p> + +<p>The man broke off at the sound of the first blast of the +dressing bugle.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's later than I guessed," he said. "Anyway, +you'll take a cocktail with me? This vessel's good and +wet, thanks be to Providence, and the high seas being +peopled with fish instead of cranks. I hadn't a notion +I was goin' to run into a real lumberman on this trip. +It's done me a power of good."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Aylin P. Cantor was a diverting creature for all his +appearance of ostentatious prosperity. Good fortune +had undoubtedly been his, and his whole being seemed +to have become absorbed in the trade which had so +generously treated him. Before the cocktail was consumed +Bull had listened to a long story of British +Columbia, and forests of incomparable extent. He had +also learned that a country estate, miles in extent, outside +the city of Vancouver, and the luxuries associated +with the multi-millionaire had fallen to the lot of Aylin +P. Cantor. But somehow there was no offence in it all. +The man was just a bubbling fount of enthusiasm and +delight that this was so. He simply had to talk of it.</p> + +<p>But the acquaintance was not to terminate over a +cocktail. Shipboard offers few avenues of escape to the +man seeking to avoid another. So it came that Bull +found himself sipping a brandy, reputed to be one hundred +years old, over his coffee after dinner, while Aylin P. +Cantor told him the story of how it came into his +possession at something far below its market value.</p> + +<p>Later, again, while the auction pool was being sold, he +found himself ensconced on a lounge in a far corner of + +the smokeroom beside his fellow craftsman, still listening +chiefly, and absorbing fact and anecdote pertaining to a +successful lumberman's life. And it was nearly eleven +o'clock, and the pool had been sold, and the bulk of the +occupants of the smoking-room were contemplating their +last rubber of Auction Bridge, when the busy-minded +westerner consented to abandon his particular venue for +a brief contemplation of the despised East.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess there's money in your territory, too," he +condescended at last. "I ain't a word to say against +the stuff I've heard tell of Labrador. But you're froze +up more'n ha'f the year. That's your trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded over the latter portion of his third cigar +which Mr. Cantor had not permitted him to escape.</p> + +<p>"Sure," the man laughed. "Oh, the stuff's there. +I know that. But Labrador needs a mighty big nerve to +exploit. I heard it all from a feller I met when I was +prospecting Quebec. You see, I had the notion of playing +a million dollars in the Quebec forests once. But I +weakened. I kind of fancied my chance against the +Frenchies didn't amount to cold water on a red hot cookstove. +I cut it out and hunted my own patch, West, +again. But I guess I'd have fallen for the stories of +Labrador, if it hadn't been for the feller who put me +wise."</p> + +<p>"Who was that?" Bull had lost interest, but the +man invited the enquiry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a sort of missionary crank," Cantor returned +indifferently. "You know the sort. We got 'em out +West, too. They hound the boys around, chasin' them +heavenwards by a through route they guess they know +about." He laughed. "But the boys bein' just boys, +the round up don't ever seem to make good; and that +through trip looks most like a bum sort of freight in the +wash-out season. Outside his missioner business I guess + +the guy was pretty wise, though. And his knowledge +of the lumber play left me without a word. He knew it +all—an' I guess he told it to me."</p> + +<p>Bull laughed. But the laugh was inspired by the +thought that there could be found in the world a man who +could leave Aylin P. Cantor without a word on the +subject of lumber.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to make a guess at that feller," he said. +"There's just one man I know who's a missionary in +Quebec who knows anything about Labrador. Did he +call himself, 'Father Adam?'"</p> + +<p>"That's the thing he did."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought so." Bull's smile had passed. +"Where did you meet him?" he went on after a +moment.</p> + +<p>"On the Shagaunty. The Skandinavia Corporation +territory. He told me he'd just come along through +from Labrador."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cantor laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why he took me to his crazy shanty and handed me +coffee. And he talked. My, how he talked."</p> + +<p>"Did he know you were—prospecting?"</p> + +<p>There was no lack of interest in Bull now. His steady +eyes were alight, as he watched the stewards moving +amongst the tables, setting the place straight for the +night.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I told him."</p> + +<p>Cantor's dark eyes were questioning. As Bull +remained silent he went on.</p> + +<p>"Why? Is he interested for the Skandinavia to keep +folk out?"</p> + +<p>Bull shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No. It isn't that. He's a queer feller. No, I'd +say he's got just one concern in life. It's the boys. +But you're right, he knows the whole thing—the whole + +game of lumbering in Eastern Canada. And if he told +you and warned you, I'd say it was for your good as +he saw it. No. He's no axe to grind, and though you +found him on the Skandinavia's territory, I don't think +he likes them. I'm sure he doesn't. Still, he's not concerned +for any employer. He just comes and goes +handing out his dope to the boys, and—You know the +forest-jacks. They're a mighty tough proposition. Well, +it's said they feel about Father Adam so if a hair of his +head was hurt they'd get the feller who did it, and they'd +cut the liver out of him, and pass what was left feed for +the coyotes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cantor nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I sort of gathered something of that from the +folks I hit up against. It seems queer a feller devoting +his life to bumming through the forests and seekin' shelter +where you couldn't find shelter from a summer +dew. He's got no fixed home. Maybe he's sort of +crazed."</p> + +<p>Bull was prompt in his denial.</p> + +<p>"Saner than you or me," he said. "You know I'd want +to smile if I didn't know the man. But I know him, +and—but there we all owe him a deal, we forest men. +And maybe I owe him more than anyone."</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cantor's question came sharply. Even Bull, +tired as he was, noted the keenly incisive tone of it. +He turned, and his steady eyes regarded the dark face of +the lumberman speculatively. Then he smiled, and +picked up his glass and drained the remains of his whisky +and soda.</p> + +<p>"Why, he's more power for peace with the lumber-jacks +of Quebec than if he was their trade leader," he +said, setting his empty glass down on the table. "We +employers owe him there's never any sort of trouble with +the boys."</p> + + +<p>"I see." Mr. Cantor gazed out across the nearly +empty room, and a shadowy smile haunted his eyes. +"And if there was trouble? Could you locate him in +time?"</p> + +<p>"We shouldn't need to. He'd be there."</p> + +<p>The lumberman stirred, and persisted with curious +interest.</p> + +<p>"But he must have a place where you folks can get +him? This coming and going. It's fine—but—"</p> + +<p>Bull stood up and stretched himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's got a home, all right. It's the forests."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cantor threw up his hands and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Who is he, anyway? A sort of Wandering Jew? +A ghost? A spook? That sort of thing beats me. +He's got to be one of the two things. He's either a crank—you +say he ain't—or he's dodging daylight."</p> + +<p>But Bull had had enough. Deep in his heart was a +feeling that no man had any right to pry into the life +of Father Adam. Father Adam had changed the whole +course of his life. It was Father Adam who had made +possible everything he was to-day—even his association +with Nancy McDonald. He shook his head unsmilingly.</p> + +<p>Father Adam's one good man," he said. "And I +wouldn't recommend anyone to hand out anything to the +contrary within hearing of the men of the Quebec forests. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>He strode away. And Mr. Cantor followed him, +slight and bediamonded in his evening clothes. And +somehow the dark eyes gazing on the broad back of +the man from Labrador had none of the twinkling +shrewdness the other had originally observed in them. +They were quite cold and very hard. And there was that +in them which suggested the annoyance inspired by a long +evening of effort that had ended in complete failure.</p> + +<p>The man's dark, foreign-looking features had lost +every semblance of their recent good-natured enthusiasm.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_26"></a> +<h3>Chapter XVII—The Lonely Figure Again</h3> + + +<p>The laden sled stood ready for the moment of starting +on the day's long run. Five train dogs, lean, powerful +huskies, crouched down upon the snow. They gave no +sign beyond the alertness of their pose and the watchfulness +of their furtive eyes. Their haunches were +tucked under them. And their long, wolfish muzzles, +so indicative of their parentage, were pressed down +between great, outstretched forepaws.</p> + +<p>The man studied every detail of his outfit. He knew +the chances, the desperate nature of the long winter +trail. He had no desire to increase the hardship of it +all by any act of carelessness.</p> + +<p>Behind him lay the mockery of a camping ground. +It was a minute, isolated bluff of stunted, windswept +trees, set in a white, wide wilderness of barren land. +Perhaps there was some half a hundred of them. But +that was all. They had served, but only by reason +that their shelter had satisfied habit, which, even in the +men of the long trail, will not be denied.</p> + +<p>He turned away. Everything was to his satisfaction. +So his tall, fur-clad figure passed in amongst the dwarf +trees.</p> + +<p>The dogs remained crouching, their fierce eyes gazing +out over the desolate expanse of winter's playground. +It lay at a great altitude, several thousands of feet +above the level of the sea. The sky was drab. It was +bitter with threat. It was unrelieved by any break in +the menacing winter cloud. It was a snow sky which +only refrained from releasing its burden by reason of the +high, top wind that drove the heavy masses relentlessly. +The earthly prospect was no more inviting. It was +wide, and flat, and devoid of vegetation. There were + +no hills anywhere, and the skyline was just a vanishing +point similar to the horizon of the open sea. One vast, +wide field of snow and ice spread out in every direction, +and made desolation complete.</p> + +<p>When the man re-appeared he was armed with a +sturdy "gee-pole," and at his belt was coiled a heavy-thonged, +short-stocked driving whip.</p> + +<p>Without a word he thrust the pole under the front of +the sled runners, and a sharp command broke from his +lips. The effect was instantaneous. Each dog sprang +at his "tug." The man heaved on his pole. There +was a moment of straining, then the holding ice gave +up its grip, and the sled shot forward.</p> + +<p>The man stood for a moment beating his mitted hands. +Then he took his place on the sled, buried his legs and +feet under the heavy seal robes set ready, and so the +long-waited command to "mush" was hurled at the +waiting beasts.</p> + +<p>The dogs leapt at their work and the sled swept forward +with a rush. A blinding flurry of snow dust rose +in its wake, enveloping it, and the dogs raced on, yelping +with the joy of activity. Their great muscles were +aquiver with the eager spirit which is bred of the wild. +And so they would continue to run, for their load was +light, and the heavy-thonged whip was playing in skilful +hands, and they knew, and feared, and obeyed its +constant threat.</p> + +<p>The way lay across the frozen bosom of a great lake, +no less than an inland sea, and a hundred miles must be +travelled before night, or the snow, overtook them. It +was a hard run. But it must be accomplished. Failure? +But failure must not be considered. No man could +contemplate failure and face the winter trail in the +barren desolation of the lofty interior of Labrador's untracked +wild.</p> + +<p>The austerity of the country was well-nigh overwhelming. + +The nakedness of it all suggested a skeleton world +robbed of everything that could make existence possible. +It suggested a world that was sick, and aged, and too unfruitful +to harbour aught but the fierce elemental storms +of the northern winter. And the cold of it ate into the +bones of the lonely figure passing through the great +silence like a ghost.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The night was deathly still. A thermometer would +have registered something colder than sixty degrees +below zero. Not a breath of wind stirred. The only +sound that came was the doleful note of a prowling wolf +in the forest belt near by, and the booming protest of +the trees against the bitterness of winter.</p> + +<p>The sky was ablaze with a myriad jewels in a velvet +setting. And a cold wealth of aurora lit the northern +heavens. Camp had been pitched well wide of the nearby +forests, and three men sat crouching over the fire. There +was little enough to differentiate between them. They +were white men, and all were clad, from their heads +to the soles of their seal hide moccasins, in heavy furs. +The dark outlines of two sleds showed up a few yards +away, but the dogs, themselves, were not visible. Weary +with their day's run they had betaken themselves to +their nightly snow burrows to dream over past battles, +past labours.</p> + +<p>The men were talking earnestly in the low, slow tones +which the silence of the forests seems to inspire. Three +pairs of bare hands were outheld to the welcome blaze +of the fire. Three pairs of clear gazing eyes searched +the heart of it. None were smoking. It would have +been a burden to keep the pipe stem from freezing even in +the vicinity of the fire, and none of them were in any +mood to accept any added burden.</p> + +<p>A blue-eyed, beardless youth shifted his gaze to the +dark face directly opposite him beyond the fire.</p> + + +<p>"Oh, we got that guy—good," he said. There was +laughter in his eyes but not in his tone. "We got him +plumb at the game. He was chock full of kerosene and +tinder, and he'd fired the patch in several places. We were +on it quick. We beat the fire in seconds. As for him, +why, I guess his Ma's going to forget him right away. +Leastways I hope so. He went out like the snuff of a +lucifer, and his body's likely handed plenty feed to any +wolf straying around."</p> + +<p>The dark man across the fire nodded.</p> + +<p>"Did he hand a squeal before—he went?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word. Hadn't time. Peter here didn't ast a +thing either."</p> + +<p>The youth laughed softly, and the man called Peter +took up the story.</p> + +<p>"Tain't no use arguin' with a feller loaded with kerosene +in these forests," he said, in a low grumbling way. Then +he reached down and snatched a brand from the fire and +flung it out on the snow. His action was followed +swiftly by a wolfish howl of dismay. Then he again +turned his grizzled, whiskered face to the dark man beyond +the fire. "You see, Father, it's our job keeping +these forests from fire, an' it ain't easy. It don't much +concern us who's out to fire 'em. That's for other +folks. The feller with kerosene in these forests is goin' + +to get the stuff we ken hand him. That's all. Bob an' +me got our own way fer actin'."</p> + +<p>Bob laughed</p> + +<p>"We sure have," he said. "But we don't allers +pull it off. No. We've had ten fires on our range in +two weeks. We've beat the fires, but we ain't smashed +the 'bugs' that set 'em."</p> + +<p>"Would they be all one feller? The feller that got +it?" The dark man's eyes were serious. His tone +was troubled.</p> + +<p>Peter shook his head.</p> + + +<p>"No, sir. There's more'n one, sure. An' from the +things I've heerd tell from the boys on the neighbourin' +ranges it's happening all along through our limits. They +tell me there's queer things doin' an' no one seems to +locate the meaning right."</p> + +<p>"What sort of things?"</p> + +<p>The dark man spoke sharply. Peter's reply came after +profound deliberation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, things," he said. Then he thrust a gnarled +brown hand up under his fur hood, and scratched his +head. "There's our forest 'phones. They're bein' +cut. It's the same everywhere. There's most always +things to break 'em happenin', but a break aint a cut. +No. They're cut. Who's cuttin' 'em, and why? Fire-bugs. +It ain't grouchy jacks. No. I've heerd the +jacks are on the buck in parts, but that ain't their play. +There ain't a jack who'd see these forests afire, or do a +thing to help that way. You see, it's their living, it's +their whole life. We got so we can't depend a thing on +the 'phones. An' cut our forests 'phones and we're +gropin' like blind men."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The leaping flames were dropping, and Bob moved +out to the store of fuel. He returned laden, and packed +the wood carefully to give the maximum blaze. Then +he squatted again, and again his hands were thrust out +to the warmth which meant luxury.</p> + +<p>Peter had no more to add. His grey eyes searched +the heart of the fire as he reflected on the things which +were agitating his mind.</p> + +<p>"I want to get word down, but I can't depend on +the 'phones," he said presently. "If they ain't cut I +can't tell who's gettin' the message anyway. Maybe +the wires are bein' tapped."</p> + +<p>The man across the fire nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'm going down," he said.</p> + + +<p>"I'm glad." Peter's acknowledgment came with an +air of relief. "I'll hand you a written report before you +pull out."</p> + +<p>"It's best that way."</p> + +<p>The fire was leaping again. Its beneficent warmth was +very pleasant. Bob turned his eyes skyward.</p> + +<p>"You'll get a good trip, Father," he said. "That +snow's cleared out of the sky. It 'ud ha' been hell if it +had caught you out on the lake."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I wouldn't have made here. I wouldn't have +made anywhere if that had happened." The dark man +laughed.</p> + +<p>Peter shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No. You took a big chance."</p> + +<p>"I had to."</p> + +<p>"So?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had to get through. There's a big piece of +trouble coming."</p> + +<p>"To do with these fires?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>Peter's comment was full of understanding. After +awhile the other looked up.</p> + +<p>"Guess I need a big sleep," he said. "I've got to +pull out with daylight. Anything you want besides +that written report passed on down?"</p> + +<p>Peter shook his head and sat on awhile blinking silently +at the firelight. Then the dark man scrambled to his +feet. He stood for a moment, very tall, very bulky in +his fur clothing, and nodded down at the others.</p> + +<p>"So long," he said. And he moved off to his sleeping +bag which was laid out to receive his tired body.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The man stood just within the shelter of the twilit +forests. He was a powerful creature of sturdy build, +hall-marked with the forest craft which was his life. He + +was clad in tough buckskin from head to foot. Even +his hands, which he frequently beat in a desire for +warmth, were similarly clad. His weatherbeaten face +was hard set, and his eyes were narrowed to confront +the merciless snow fog which the rage of the blizzard +outside hurled at him.</p> + +<p>The cold was almost unendurable even here in the +wooded shelter. Outside, where the storm raged unrestrainedly +over its fierce playground, only blind hopelessness +prevailed.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be done. He could only wait.</p> + +<p>He could only wait, and hope, or abandon his vigil, +and return to his camp which was far back in the heart +of the forests. Away out there, somewhere lost in the +blinding fog of the blizzard, which had only sprung up +within the last hour, a lonely fellow creature was making +for the shelter in which he stood. He was driving headlong +towards him. Oh, yes. He knew that. He had +seen the moving outfit far off, several miles away, over +the snowy plains, before the storm had arisen. Now—where +was he? He could not tell. He could not even +guess at what might have happened. Blinded, freezing, +weary, how long could the lonely traveller endure and +retain any sense of direction?</p> + +<p>To the forest man the position was well-nigh tragic. +Had he not experience of the terror of a northern blizzard? +Had he not many a time had to grope his way +along a life-line lest the slightest deviation in direction +should carry him out into the storm to perish of cold, +blinded and lost?" Oh, yes. This understanding was +the alphabet of his life.</p> + +<p>As he stood there watching and wiping the snow from +his eyes, he reminded himself not only of his own +experience but of every story of disaster in a blizzard he +had ever listened to. And so he saw no hope for the poor +wretch he had seen struggling to make the shelter.</p> + + +<p>But he could not bring himself to abandon his post. +How could he with a fellow creature out there in peril? +Besides, there was other reason, although it needed none. +He had urgent news for this man, news which must be +imparted without delay, news which his employers must +hear at the earliest possible moment.</p> + +<p>His trouble grew as he waited. He searched his mind +for anything calculated to aid the doomed traveller. He +could find nothing. He thought to call out, to burst his +lungs in a series of shouts on the chance of being heard in +the chaos of the storm. But he realised the uselessness +of it all, and abandoned the impulse. No puny human +voice could hope to make impression on the din of the +elemental battle being fought out on the plain. No. +His only service must be to stand there beating life into +his numbing hands, ready to act on the instant should +opportunity serve.</p> + +<p>He was eaten up by anxiety, and so took no cognisance +of time. He had forgotten the passing of daylight. +Therefore sudden realisation flung him into headlong +panic. The forest about him was growing dark. The +snow fog outside had changed to a deeper hue. Night +was coming on. The man in the storm was beyond all +aid, human or otherwise.</p> + +<p>The impulse of the moment was irresistible. He +moved. He passed out from behind the long limbs of +his leafless shelter. He went at a run shouting with +all the power of his lungs. Again and again his prolonged +cry went up. And with each effort he waited +listening, listening, only to receive the mocking reply +of the howling storm. But he persisted. He persisted +for the simple human reason that his desire outran his +power to serve. And in the end exhaustion forced him +to abandon his hopeless task.</p> + +<p>It was then the miracle happened. Far away, it +seemed, a sound like the faintest echo of his own voice + +came back to him, but it came from a direction all utterly +unexpected. For a moment he hesitated, bewildered, +uncertain. Then he sent up another shout, and waited +listening. Yes. There it was. Again came the faintly +echoing cry through the trees. It came not from the +open battle ground of the storm, but from the shelter of +the forests somewhere away to the north of him.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>A tall, fur-clad figure stood nearby to the sled +which was already partly unloaded. A yard or two +away a fire had been kindled, and it blazed comfortingly +in the growing dusk of the forest. It was the moment +when the forest man came up somewhat breathlessly +and flung out a mitted hand in greeting.</p> + +<p>"I guessed you were makin' your last run for shelter, +Father," he cried. "I just hadn't a hope you'd make +through that storm. You beat it—fine."</p> + +<p>The tall man nodded. His dark eyes were smiling a +cordiality no less than the other's.</p> + +<p>"I guessed that way, too," he said quietly. "Then +I didn't." He shrugged his fur-clad shoulders. "No. +It's not a northern trail that's going to see the end of me. +But it's your yarn I need to hear. How is it?"</p> + +<p>"Bad."</p> + +<p>The two men looked squarely into each others eyes, +and the gravity of the forest man was intense. The man +who had just come out of the storm was no less serious, +but presently he turned away, and for a second his gaze +rested on the group of sprawling dogs. The beasts looked +utterly spent as they blinked at the fire which they were +never permitted to approach. He indicated the fire.</p> + +<p>"Let's sit," he said. "It's cold—damnably cold."</p> + +<p>The other needed no second invitation. They both +moved back to the fire and squatted over it, and the +forest man pointed at the dogs.</p> + + +<p>"Beat?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But they hauled me through. They're a great +outfit. I fed 'em right away and now they need rest. +They'll be ready for the trail again by morning. Anyway +I can't delay."</p> + +<p>"No. You've got to get through quick."</p> + +<p>Both were holding outspread hands to the fire. Both +were luxuriating in the friendly warmth.</p> + +<p>"Well?" The tall man turned his head so that his +dark eyes searched the other's face again. "You'd best +tell it me, Jean. If the storm lets up I pull out with +daylight. I've come through every camp, and this is the +last. Maybe I know the stuff you've got to tell. It's +been the same most all the way."</p> + +<p>Jean looked up from the heart of the fire.</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>"Every sort." The tall man's eyes were smiling. +"There's jacks quitting and pulling out, and nobody +seems to know how they're getting, seeing it's winter. +Others are going slow. There's others grumbling for +things you never heard tell of before. There's fire-bugs +at work, and the forest 'phones are being cut or otherwise +tampered with all the time. We've lost hundreds of +acres by fire already."</p> + +<p>"My yarn's the same." Jean nodded and turned back +to the fire. "Say," he went on, "have you heard of the +things going on? The thing that's happening?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the outfit working it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's a political labour gang. Leastways that's +the talk of 'em. They call 'em 'Bolshies,' whatever +that means. They're chasing these forests through. +They make the camps by night, and get hold of the boys +right away. They throw a hurricane of hot air at them, +preachin' the sort of dope that sets those darn fools lyin' +around when they need to be makin' the winter cut. +And when they're through, and started the bug the + +way they want it, they pull out right away before the daylight +comes. We never get a chance at 'em. Our boys +are all plumb on the buck. I was just crazy for you to +come along, Father. Guess you're the one man to fix +the boys right. An' when I see you caught up in that +darn storm—"</p> + +<p>"I'll do the thing I know," the dark man replied. +"I've been doing it right along. But it's not enough. +That's why I'm chasing down to the coast. We've got +to lay this spook that worries the boys at night. It's no +Bolshie outfit." He shook his head. "Anyway if it is +it's got another thing behind it. It's the Skandinavia."</p> + +<p>He sat on for a few minutes in silence. He squatted +there, hugging his knees. He was weary. He was +weary almost to death with the incessant travel that +had already occupied him weeks.</p> + +<p>Quite abruptly his hands parted and he stood up. +Jean followed his movements with anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>"You goin' down to talk to the boys?" he asked at +last.</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Right away. I'll do all I know."</p> + +<p>"They'll listen to you."</p> + +<p>The other smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Till the spook comes back."</p> + +<p>Jean brushed the icicles from about his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's just it," he said. "An' meanwhile the cut's +right plumb down. If this thing don't quit the mill's +going to starve when the ice breaks. I've lost nigh +three weeks' full cut already. It's—it's hell!"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The dark man moved away, and Jean sat on over +the fire. But his troubled eyes watched the curious +figure as it passed over to its outfit. He saw the man +stoop over the litter of his goods. He saw him disentangle +some garment from the rest. When he came + +back the furs he had been clad in were either abandoned +or hidden under fresh raiment. The man towered an +awesome figure in the firelight. He was clad in black +from head to foot, and his garment possessed the flowing +skirts of a priest.</p> + +<p>"I'm going right down to the boys now," he said. +"You best stop around here. Just have an eye to the +dogs. It's best you not being with me."</p> + +<p>Jean nodded. He understood. Accompanied by the +camp boss this man's influence with the boys would have +been seriously affected. Alone he was well-nigh all +powerful.</p> + +<p>"Good," he said. "For God's sake do what you can, +Father," he cried. "I'll stop right here till you get back. +So long."</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_27"></a> +<h3>Chapter XVIII—Bull Sternford'S Vision Of Success</h3> + + +<p>"I'd say it's best story I've listened to since—since—Say, +those fellers are pretty big. They surely are."</p> + +<p>Bat Harker stirred. He shifted his feet on the rail +of the stove, where the heavy leather soles of his boots +were beginning to burn.</p> + +<p>Bull's shining eyes were raised to his.</p> + +<p>"Big?" he echoed. "I tell you that feller, Leader, +has the widest vision of any man I know."</p> + +<p>He leant back in his chair and imitated his companion's +luxurious attitude. And so they sat silent, each +regarding the thing between them from his own angle.</p> + +<p>It was the night of Bull's return from his journey to +England. He had completed the final stage only that +afternoon. He had travelled overland from the south +headland, where he had been forced to disembark from +the <em>Myra</em> under stress of weather. It was storming + +outside now, one of those fierce wind storms of Labrador's +winter, liable to blow for days or only for a few +hours.</p> + +<p>He and Harker were closeted together in the warm +comfort of the office on the hill. Here, without fear of +interruption, in the soft lamplight, lounging at their ease, +they were free to talk of those things so dear to them, and +upon which hung the destiny of their enterprise.</p> + +<p>Winter was more than half spent. Christmas and +New Year were already seasons which only helped to +swell the store of memory. Labrador was frozen to +the bone, and would remain so. But there were still +two months and more of snow and ice, and storm, to be +endured before the flies and mosquitoes did their best +to make life unendurable.</p> + +<p>Bull's return home had been a time of great looking +forward. Life to him had become full of every alluring +possibility. He saw the approaching fulfilment of his +hopes and aims. The contemplation of the pending +war with the Skandinavia only afforded his fighting +instincts satisfaction. Then there was that other. +That great, new sensation which stirred him so deeply—Nancy +McDonald. So he had returned home full of +enthusiasm and ready to tackle any and every problem +that presented itself.</p> + +<p>He had just completed the telling of the story he had +brought back with him. It was a story of success that +had stirred even the cast-iron emotions of Bat Harker. +Nor had it lost anything in the telling, for Bull was more +deeply moved than he knew.</p> + +<p>The recounting of his dealings in London with the man, +Sir Frank Leader, had been coloured by the enthusiasm +with which the Englishman had inspired him. Sir Frank +Leader was known as the uncrowned king of the world's +pulp-wood trade. But Bull felt, and declared, that the +appellation did not come within measurable distance + +of expressing the man's real genius. Then there were +those others: Stanton Brothers, and Lord Downtree, +and the virile, youthful creature, Ray Birchall. All of +them were strong pillars of support for the ruling genius +of the house of Leader & Company. But it was the +man himself, the head of it, who claimed all Bull's admiration +for his intensity of national spirit, and the +wide generosity of his enterprise.</p> + +<p>The story he had had to tell was simple in its completeness. +Before setting out on his journey he had +spent months in preparation of the ground by means of +voluminous correspondence and documentary evidence. +It was a preparation that left it only necessary to convince +through personal appeal on his arrival in London. +This had been achieved in the broad fashion that appealed +to the men he encountered. His "hand" had been +laid down. Every card of it was offered for their closest +scrutiny, even to the baring of the last reservation which +his intimate knowledge of the merciless climate of +Labrador might have inspired.</p> + +<p>The appeal of this method had been instant to Sir Frank +Leader. And the appeal had been as much the man +himself as the thing he offered. The result of it all +was Bull's early return home with the man's whole +organisation fathering his enterprise, and with a guarantee +of his incomparable fleet of freighters being flung into +the pool. Leader had swept up the whole proposition +into his widely embracing arms, and taken it to himself. +Subject to Ray Birchall's ultimate report, after personal +inspection on the spot of the properties involved, the +flotation was to be launched for some seventy million +dollars, and thus the consummation of Sachigo's original +inspiration would be achieved.</p> + +<p>Bat had listened to the story almost without comment. +He had missed nothing of it. Neither had he +failed to observe the man telling it. The story itself + +was all so tremendous, so far removed from the work +that pre-occupied him that he had little desire to probe +deeper into it. But the success of it all stirred him. Oh, +yes. It had stirred him deeply, and his mind had immediately +flown to that other who had laboured for just +this achievement and had staggered under the burden of +it all.</p> + +<p>Bull removed his pipe and gazed across the stove.</p> + +<p>"And now for your news, Bat," he said, like a man +anticipating a pleasant continuation of his own good +news.</p> + +<p>Bat shook his head decidedly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, in his brusque fashion. "Not to-night, +boy. Guess I ain't got a thing to tell to match your +stuff. We just carried on, and we've worked big. We're +in good shape for the darn scrap with the Skandinavia +you told me about. Guess I'll hand you my stuff to-morrow, +when I'm goin' to show you things. This +night's your night—sure."</p> + +<p>His twinkling eyes were full of kindly regard, for all +the brusqueness of his denial. And Bull smiled back +his content.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's your 'hand' Bat," he said easily. "You'll +play it your way."</p> + +<p>His eyes turned to the comforting stove again, as the +howl of the storm outside shook the framing of the house.</p> + +<p>Presently the other raised a pair of smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know, boy," the lumberman said, ejecting a +worn-out chew of tobacco, "all this means one mighty +big thing your way. You see, you got life before you. +Maybe I've years to run, too. But it ain't the same. +No," he shook his grizzled head, "you can't never +make nuthin' of me but a lumber-boss. You'll never +be a thing but a college-bred fighter all your life. There's +a third share in this thing for both of us. Well, that's +goin' to be one a' mighty pile. I was wonderin'. Shall + +you quit? Shall you cut right out with the boodle? +What'll you do?"</p> + +<p>Bull sat up and laughed. And his answer came on the +instant.</p> + +<p>"Why, marry," he said.</p> + +<p>Bat nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's queer," he said. "I guessed you'd answer +that way."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>Bat folded his arms across his broad chest.</p> + +<p>"You're young," he replied.</p> + +<p>Bull laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Better say it," he cried. "An' darn foolish."</p> + +<p>"No, I hadn't that in mind. No, Bull. If I had your +years I guess I'd feel that way, too. I wonder—"</p> + +<p>"You're guessing to know who I'd marry, eh?" +Bull's pipe was knocked out into the cuspidore. Then he +sat up again and his eyes were full of reckless delight. +"Here," he cried, "I guess it's mostly school-kids who +shout the things they reckon to do—or a fool man. It +doesn't matter. Maybe I'm both. Anyway, I'm just +crazy for—for—"</p> + +<p>"Red hair, an'—an' a pair of mighty pretty eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>Bat nodded. A deep satisfaction stirred him.</p> + +<p>"I reckoned that way, ever since— Say, I'm glad."</p> + +<p>But Bull's mood had sobered.</p> + +<p>"She's in the enemy camp though," he demurred.</p> + +<p>"It'll hand you another scrap—haulin' her out."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Bat rose from his chair and stretched his trunk-like +body.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "it's me for the blankets." Then +he emitted a deep-throated chuckle. "You get at it, +boy," he went on. "An' if you're needin' any help I +can pass, why, count on it. If you mean marryin' + +I'd sooner see you hook up team with that red-haired +gal than anything in the world I ever set two eyes on. +Guess I'll hand you my stuff in the morning if the storm +quits."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The dynamos were revolving at terrific speed. There +were some eighteen in all, and their dull roar was racking +upon ears unused. Bat was regarding them without +enthusiasm. All he knew was the thing they represented. +Skert Lawton had told him. They represented the +harnessing of five hundred thousand horse power of the +Beaver River water. The engineer had assured him, +in his unsmiling fashion, that he had secured enough +power to supply the whole Province of Quebec with +electricity. All of which, in Bat's estimation, seemed to +be an unnecessary feat.</p> + +<p>Bull was gazing in frank wonder on the engineer's +completed work. It was his first sight of it. The place +had been long in building. But the sight of it in full +running, the sense of enormous power, the thought and +labour this new power-house represented, filled him +with nothing but admiration for the author of it all.</p> + +<p>Bat hailed one of the electricians serving the machines.</p> + +<p>"Where's Mr. Lawton?" he shouted.</p> + +<p>"He went out. He ain't here," the man shouted back.</p> + +<p>Bat regarded the man for a moment without favour. +Then he turned away. He beckoned Bull to follow, +and moved over to the sound-proof door which shut off +the engineer's office. They passed to the quiet beyond +it.</p> + +<p>It was quite a small room without any elaborate pretensions. +There was a desk supporting a drawing +board, with a chair set before it. There was also a +rocker-chair which accommodated the lean body of +Skert Lawton at such infrequent moments as it desired +repose. Beyond that there was little enough furniture. + +The place was mainly bare boards and bare walls. Bat +sat himself at the desk and left Bull the rocker-chair.</p> + +<p>"I'd fixed it so Skert was to meet us here," he said. +"All this is his stuff. I couldn't tell you an' amp from +a buck louse."</p> + +<p>Bull nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said. "Maybe he's held up down +at the mill. He'll get—"</p> + +<p>"Held up—nuthin'!"</p> + +<p>The lumberman was angry. But his anger was not +at the failure of his arrangements. Back of his head he +was wondering at the thing that claimed the engineer. +He felt that only real urgency would have kept him +from his appointment. And he knew that urgency just +now had a more or less ugly meaning.</p> + +<p>"Lawton's a pretty bright boy—" Bull began. But the +other caught him up roughly.</p> + +<p>"Bright? That don't say a thing," Bat cried. "Guess +he's a whole darn engineering college rolled into the worst +shape of the ghost of a man it's been my misfortune ever +to locate. He's a highbrow of an elegant natur'. He +calls this thing 'co-ordination,' which is another way of +sayin' he's beat nigh a hundred thousand dollars out of +our bank roll to hand us more power than we could use +if we took in Broadway, New York, at night. But it's +elegant plannin' and looks good to me. Your folks over +the water'll maybe see things in it, too. It's them blast +furnaces we set up for him last year made this play possible. +Them, and the swell outfit of machine shops he +squeezed us for. He figgers to raise all sorts of hell +around. An' his latest notion's to build every darn machine +from rough-castin' to a shackle pin, so we don't +have to worry with the world outside. He's got a long +view of things. But—"</p> + +<p>He pulled out his timepiece, and the clouds of volcanic +anger swept down again upon his rugged brow. + +But it was given no play. The door of the office was +thrust open, and the lean figure of the engineer, clad in +greasy overalls, came hurriedly into the room.</p> + +<p>Bat challenged him on the instant.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, boy?" he demanded in his uncompromising +fashion.</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" Skert's eyes were wide, and his tone was +savage. "That's just it. I reckoned to show Sternford +all this stuff," he went on, indicating the machine hall with +a jerk of his head. "But we'll have to let it pass. Say," +he glanced from one to the other, his expression developing +to something like white fury. "They started. It's +business this time. I got a message up they were stopping +the grinders. It's the 'heads' gave the order. Oh, they're +all in it. They got a meeting on in that darn recreation +parliament place of theirs, and every mother's son on the +machines was called to it. They've shut down! You get +that? There isn't even a greaser left at the machines. +It's set me with a feeling I'm plumb crazy. I've been +down, and they're right there crowding out that hall. +And—"</p> + +<p>"I guessed something that way," Bat interrupted with +ominous calm. He turned to Bull, who was closely regarding +his lieutenants.</p> + +<p>"It's mutiny first and then a sheer strike," he said. +"Here, listen. I'll hand you just what's happenin'. +There's been Bolshie agitators workin' the boys months, +and I guess they got a holt on 'em good. It started with +us openin' the new mill on this north shore. We were +forced to collect our labour just where we could. An' +they got in like the miser'ble rats they are. Gee! It +makes me hot—hot as hell! The leaders of this thing +ain't workers. I don't guess they done a day's work +with anything but their yahoo mouths in their dirty lives. +They're part of the crowd that's paid from Europe to +get around and heave up this blazin' world of ours just + +anyway they know. The only thing I don't get is their +coming along here, which is outside most all the rest of +the world. If Labrador can hand 'em loot I'd like to +know the sort it is. And it's just loot they're out for. +If I'm a judge there's one hell of a scrap comin,' and +if we're beat it looks like leaving Sachigo a thing +forgotten."</p> + +<p>Bull stood up. He laughed without the least mirth.</p> + +<p>"It's the Skandinavia," he said decidedly. "War's +begun. I'm going right down to that meeting."</p> + +<p>Bat leapt to his feet.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "This is for Skert an' me—"</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>Bull brushed his protest aside almost fiercely. Then +he turned as the door opened and a small man hurried in. +The fellow snatched his cap from his head and his eyes +settled on Skert Lawton, the man he knew best.</p> + +<p>"It ees a document," he cried, in the broken English +of a French Canadian. "They sign him, oh, yes. You +no more are the boss. They say the mill it ees for the +'worker.' All dis big mill, all dis big money. Oh, yes. +Dey sign him."</p> + +<p>"Who's this?" Bull demanded.</p> + +<p>"One of my machine-minders. He's a good boy," the +engineer explained.</p> + +<p>Bull nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's all right We want all we can get of his sort." +He turned to Bat. "Are there others? I mean boys we +can trust?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a bunch."</p> + +<p>"Can we get them together?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"Right. This is going to be the real thing. The sort +of thing I'd rather have it."</p> + +<p>He turned to Skert who stood by, watching the light +of battle in his chief's eyes.</p> + + +<p>"Here, shut down the dynamos. Set them clean +out of action. Do you get me? Leave the machines +for the time being so they're just so much scrap. Then, +if you got the bunch you can rely on, leave 'em guard. +We'll get on down, an' sign that damned document for + +'em."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The recreation room was crowded to suffocation. Men +of every degree in the work of the mill had foregathered. +A hubbub of talk was going on. Voices were raised. +There was anger. There was argument, harsh-voiced +argument which mainly expressed feeling. At the far +end of the hall, on the raised platform designed for those +who fancied their vocal attainments, a group of men were +gathered about a table upon which was outspread the +folios of an extensive document. The men at the table +were talking eagerly.</p> + +<p>The gathering had listened to the furious oratory of +a pale-faced man, with long black hair and a foreign +accent. It had listened, and agreed, and applauded. For +he had talked Communism, and the overthrow of the +Capitalists, and the possession of the wealth creating mills +for those who operated them. It had listened to an appeal +to the latent instinct in every human creature, freedom +from everything that could be claimed as servitude, +freedom, and possession, and independence for those who +would once and for all rid themselves of the shackles +which the pay-roll and time-sheet imposed upon them.</p> + +<p>They had been called together to witness the iniquity +of spending their lives in the degrading operation of +filling the pockets of those who laboured not, by the toil +in which their lives were spent. They had been told every +flowery fairy tale of the modern communistic doctrine, +which possesses as much truth and sanity in it as is to be +found in an asylum for the mentally deficient. And they +had swallowed the bait whole. The talk had been by the + +tongue of a skilled fanatic, who was well paid for his +work, and who kept in the forefront of his talk that alluring +promise of ease, and affluence, and luxury, which +never fails in its appeal to those who have never +known it.</p> + +<p>But something approaching an impasse had been +reached when the would-be benefactors passed over the +demand that their deluded victims should sign the roll +of Communal Brotherhood. The bait that had been +offered had been all to the taste of these rough creatures +who had never known better than an existence with a +threat of possible unemployment overshadowing their +lives. But in the signature to the elaborate document +they scented the concealed poison in the honeyed potion. +There was hesitation, reluctance. There was argument +in a confusion of tongues well-nigh bewildering. A surge +of voices filled the great building.</p> + +<p>The agents were at work, men who posed as workers +to attain their ends. And the pale, long-haired creature +and his satellites waited at the table. They understood. +It was their business to understand. They knew the +minds they were dealing with, and their agents were +skilled in their craft. The process they relied on was +the unthinking stupidity of the sheep. Every man that +could be persuaded had his friends, and each friend had +his friend. They knew friend would follow friend +well-nigh blindly, and, having signed, native obstinacy and +fear of ridicule would hold them fast to their pledge.</p> + +<p>Presently the signing began. It began with a burly +river-jack who laughed stupidly to cover his doubt. He +was followed by a machine-minder, who hurled taunts +at those who still held back. Then came others, others +whose failure to think for themselves left them content +to follow the lead of their comrades.</p> + +<p>The stream of signatures grew. A pale youth, whose +foolish grin revealed only his fitness for the heavy, unskilled + +work he was engaged upon, came up. The pen +was handed him, and the name of Adolph Mars was +scrawled on the sheet. The long-haired man at the table +looked up at him. He smiled with his lips, and patted +the boy's hand. Then something happened.</p> + +<p>It was movement. Sudden movement on the platform. +The babel in the body of the hall went on. But the +long-haired man and his supporters at the table turned +with eyes that were concerned and anxious. A dozen +men had entered swiftly through the door in rear of the +platform. Bull Sternford led them. And he moved +over to the table, with the swift, noiseless strides of a +panther, and looked into the unwholesome face of the +Bolshevist leader.</p> + +<p>It was only for the fraction of a second. The man +made a movement which needed no interpretation. His +hand went to a hip pocket. Instantly Bull's great hands +descended. The man was picked up like a child. He was +lifted out of his seat and raised aloft. He was borne +towards the window where he was held while the master +of the mill crashed a foot against its wooden sash. The +next moment the black-clothed body was hurled with +terrific force out into the snowdrift waiting to receive it. +It was all so swiftly done. The whole thing was a +matter of seconds only. Then Bull Sternford was back +at the table, while his comrades, Bat and Lawton, and +the men of loyalty they relied on, lined the platform.</p> + +<p>As Bull snatched up the document and held it aloft, a +deathly silence reigned throughout the hall, and every +eye was turned angrily upon the intruders. Bull yielded +not a moment for those witless minds to recover from +their shock. His voice rang out fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Here," he cried, "d'you know what you're doing, +listening to that fool guy I've thrown through that +window, and signing this crazy paper he's set out for you? +No. You don't unless you're just as crazy yourselves. + +You're declaring war. You're starting a great fight to +steal the property that hands you your living. You reckon +you've got all you need of our brains, and your own +brute force and darnation foolishness can run these great +mills which are to hand you the big money you reckon +it hands us. That means war. Maybe you fancy it's +the one-sided war you'd like to have it. Maybe you fancy +there's about a dozen of us, and we're going to be made +to work for the wage you figger to hand us. You're +dead wrong. It's going to be a hell of a war if you swallow +the dope these fellows hand you. You've begun it, +and we're taking up the challenge. We've fired the first +shot, too. It's not gun-play yet. No. Maybe it'll come +to that and you'll find we can hand you shot for shot. +No. We're quicker than that. The mill's closed down! +Wages have ceased! And all power has been cut off! +There's not a spark of light or heat, for the whole of +Sachigo. The vital parts of the power station have been +removed, and you can't get 'em back. I've only to give +the word and the <em>penstocks on the river will be cut so you +can't repair them</em>. It's forty degrees below Zero out there, +where I've shot that crazy Bolshie, and so you know +just how you stand here on Labrador with no means of +gettin' away until the thaw comes. You and your wives +and kiddies'll have to pay in the cold for the crime of +theft you reckon to put through. We're ready for you, +whether it's gun-play or any other sort of war you want +to start. That's the thing I've come here to tell you."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment to watch the effect of his +words. It was there on the instant. A furious hubbub +arose. There was not a man in the room who did not +understand the dire threat which the <em>coup</em> of the master +mind imposed. Power cut off! Light! Heat! Power! +Forty degrees below Zero! The terror of the Labrador +winter was in every man's mind. Life would be unendurable +without heat. There were the forests. Oh, + +yes. They could get heat of sorts. The sort of heat +which the men on a winter trail were accustomed to. +<em>Their electrically-heated houses were without stoves in +which they could burn wood</em>.</p> + +<p>Bull listened to the babel of tongues while his men +watched for any act that might come. Every man on +the platform was armed ready.</p> + +<p>"Here!"</p> + +<p>Bull's voice rang out again, but he was interrupted.</p> + +<p>A man shouted at him from the back of the hall.</p> + +<p>"Who the hell are you, anyway? You ain't the guy +owning these mills. We know where you come +from—"</p> + +<p>Like lightning Bull took him up.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" he shouted back. "Then we know where +you come from. The man who knew me before I became +boss here must belong to the Skandinavia. That's the +only place any lumber-jack could have known me. Here. +Come up here. Stand out. Show yourself. And I'll +hand the boys your pedigree. It'll be easy. It's the +trouble with us just now, we've got too many stiffs from +the Skandinavia, and you've got our own good boys +paralysed. They haven't the guts to stand on the notions +that have handed them the best wages in the pulp trade +these fifteen years. Guess you've persuaded them they +ain't got swell houses, and good food, and cheap heat +and light, and, instead are living like all sorts of swine +in their hogpens. It's the way of the Skandinavia just +now. The Skandinavia's out for our blood. They want +to smash us. Do you know why? Because they're an +alien firm who wants to steal these forests from the +Canadians to fill their own pockets with our wealth. We're +for the Canadians, and we've built up a proposition that's +going to beat the foreigner right out into the sea. But +that don't matter now. These guys, these long-haired, +unwashed guys, that reckon to hand you boys these mills, + +are sent by the Skandinavia to wreck us. Well, go right +over to 'em. Help 'em. Sign every darn document they +hand you. They'll be your own death warrants, anyway. +You want war. You can have it. I'm here to fight. +Meanwhile you best get home to your cold houses, for the +mills are closed down. You're locked out."</p> + +<p>He turned without waiting a second and passed through +the back door by which he had entered. And his men +followed on his heels.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull was in his office. For all the storm of the morning +the rest of the day had passed quietly. Now it +was late at night. His stove was radiating a luxurious +heat. He was quite unconcerned that the electrically-heated +steam radiators were cold. He was alone. Harker +and the engineer were still down at the mill. He was +awaiting the report they would bring him later.</p> + +<p>He had passed some time in reading the pledge of +Communal Brotherhood which he had brought away with +him from the recreation room, and he had read the +signatures that had been affixed to it. The latter were +few, and every name inscribed was of foreign origin. +But it was the document itself which concerned him most. +If it were honest he felt that its authors were wild people +who should be kept under restraint. If it were not honest, +then hanging or shooting was far too lenient a fate to +be meted out to them. It was Communism in its wildest, +most unrestrained form.</p> + +<p>In his final disgust he flung the papers on his desk. +And as he did so a sound reached him from the outer +office, which had long since been closed for the night +by the half-breed, Loale.</p> + +<p>He leapt to his feet. Without a second thought he +moved over to the door and flung it wide.</p> + +<p>"What the—?" He broke off. "Good God!" he + +cried. "You, Father?" He laughed. "Why I thought +it was some of the Bolshies from down at the mill."</p> + +<p>He withdrew the gun from his coat pocket in explanation. +Then he stood aside.</p> + +<p>"Will you come right in?"</p> + +<p>The man Bull had discovered made no answer. But +as he stood aside, tall, clad in heavy fur from head to +foot, Father Adam strode into the room.</p> + +<p>Bull watched him with questioning eyes. Then he +closed the door and his visitor turned confronting him +in the yellow lamplight.</p> + +<p>"I've made more than a hundred miles to get you +to-night," Father Adam said.</p> + +<p>Then he flung back the fur hood from his head, and ran +a hand over his long black hair, smoothing it thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>Bull's eyes were still questioning.</p> + +<p>"Won't you shed your furs and sit?" he went on. +"The Chink's abed, but I'll dig him out. You must get +food."</p> + +<p>The other glanced round the pleasant office, and his +eyes paused for a moment at the chair at the desk.</p> + +<p>"Food don't worry, thanks," he said, his mildly smiling +eyes coming back to his host's face. "I've eaten—ten +miles back. I rested the dogs there, too. I've maybe a +ha'f hour to tell you the thing I came for. There's +trouble in the woods. Bad trouble. If it's not +straightened out, why, it looks like all work at your +mills'll quit, and you're going to get your forest limits +burnt out stark."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_28"></a> +<h3>Chapter XIX—The Hold-Up</h3> + + +<p>Ole Porson took a final glance round his shanty. The +last of the daylight was rapidly fading. There was still + +sufficient penetrating the begrimed double window, however, +to reveal the littered, unswept condition of the place. +But he saw none of it. It was the place he knew and +understood. It was at once his office, and his living +quarters; a shanty with a tumbled sleeping bunk, a wood +stove, and a table littered with the books and papers of his +No. 10 camp. He was a rough creature, as hard of soul +as he was of head, who could never have found joy in +surroundings of better condition.</p> + +<p>He solemnly loaded the chambers of a pair of heavy +guns. Then he bestowed them in the capacious pockets +of his fur pea-jacket. He also dropped in beside them +a handful of spare cartridges. In his lighter moments +he was apt to say that these weapons were his only friends. +And those who knew him best readily agreed. Drawing +up the storm-collar about his face, he passed out into +the snow which was falling in flakes the size of autumn +leaves. There was not a breath of wind to disturb the +deathly stillness of the winter night.</p> + +<p>Minutes later he was lounging heavily against the rough +planked counter of Abe Risdon's store. He was talking +to the suttler over a deep "four-fingers" of neat Rye, +while his searching eyes scanned the body of the ill-lit +room. The place was usually crowded with drinkers +when the daylight passed, but just now it was almost +empty.</p> + +<p>"Who's that guy in the tweed pea-jacket an' looks +like a city man?" he asked his host in an undertone, +pointing at one of the tables where a stranger sat surrounded +by four of the forest men.</p> + +<p>Abe's powerful arms were folded as he leant on the +counter.</p> + +<p>"Blew in about noon," he said. "Filled his belly with +good hash an' sat around since."</p> + +<p>"He's a bunch o' the boys about him now, anyway. +An' I guess he's talking quite a lot, an' they're doing most + +o' the listening. Seems like he's mostly enjoying hisself."</p> + +<p>Abe shrugged. But the glance he flung at the man +sitting at the far-off table was without approval.</p> + +<p>"It's mostly that way now," he said, with an air of +indifference his thoughtful eyes denied. "There's too +many guys come along an' sell truck, an' set around, an' +talk, an' then pass along. Things are changing around +this lay out, an' I don't get its meanin'. Time was I +had a bunch of boys ready most all the time to hand me +the news going round. Time was you'd see a stranger +once in a month come along in an' buy our food. Time +was they mostly had faces we knew by heart, and we +knew their business, and where they came from. Tain't +that way now. You couldn't open the boys' faces fer +news of the forest with a can-opener. These darn guys +are always about now. They come, an' feed the boys' + +drink, an' talk with 'em most all the time. An' they're +mostly strangers, an' the boys mostly sit around with +their faces open like fool men listenin' to fairy tales. +How's the cut goin'?"</p> + +<p>Porson laughed. There was no light in his hard eyes.</p> + +<p>"At a gait you couldn't change with a trail whip."</p> + +<p>The other nodded.</p> + +<p>'"That's how 'nigger' Pilling said. He guessed the +cut was down by fifty. What is it? A buck? Wages?"</p> + +<p>Porson's hand was fingering one of the guns in his +pocket. His eyes were snapping.</p> + +<p>"Curse 'em," he cried at last. "I just don't get it. +They're goin' slow."</p> + +<p>He pushed his empty glass at the suttler who promptly +re-filled it.</p> + +<p>"Young Pete Cust," Abe went on confidentially, +"handed me a good guess only this mornin'. He'd had +his sixth Rye before startin' out to work. Maybe he +was rattled and didn't figger the things he said. He was +astin' fer word up from the mills. I didn't worry to + +think, and just said I hadn't got. I ast 'why'? The +boy took a quick look round, kind o' scared. He said, + +'jest nothin'.' He reckoned he'd a dame somewhere +around Sachigo. She'd wrote him things wer' kind of +bad with the mills. They were beat fer dollars, and +looked like a crash. He'd heard the same right there, +an' it had him rattled. He thought of quittin' and goin' +over to the Skandinavia. Maybe it's the sort o' talk that's +got 'em all rattled. Maybe they're goin' slow on the cut, +worryin' for their pay-roll. You can't tell. They don't +say a thing. Seems to me we want Sternford right here +to queer these yarns. Father Adam's around an' talked +some. But—"</p> + +<p>Porson drank down his liquor, and his glass hit the +counter with angry force.</p> + +<p>"They're mush-faced hoodlams anyway," he cried +fiercely. "Ther' ain't a thing wrong with the mills. I'd +bet a million on it."</p> + +<p>He stood up from the counter and thrust his hands +deep in the pockets of his coat. He was a powerful +figure with legs like the tree trunks it was his work to +see cut. Quite abruptly he moved away, and Abe's +questioning eyes followed him.</p> + +<p>He strode down amongst the scattered tables and came +to a halt before the tweed-coated stranger. All the men +looked up, and their talk died out.</p> + +<p>"Say, what's your bizness around here?"</p> + +<p>Ole Person's manner was threatening as he made his +demand. The stranger dived at the bag lying on the +floor beside his chair. He picked it up and flung it +open.</p> + +<p>"Why, I got right here the dandiest outfit of swell +jewellery," he cried, grinning amiably up at the man's +threatening eyes. "There's just everything here," he went +on, with irrepressible volubility, "to suit you gents of the +forest, an' make you the envy of every jack way down + +at Sachigo. Here, there's a be-autiful Prince Albert for +your watch. This ring. It's full o' diamonds calculated +to set Kimberly hollerin'. Maybe you fancy a locket +with it. It'll take a whole bunch of your dame's—"</p> + +<p>"You'll light right out of this camp with daylight +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>The tone of the camp-boss banished the last shadow +of the pedlar's cast-iron smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes?" he said, his eyes hardening.</p> + +<p>"That's wot I said. This camp's private property an' +you'll light out. You get that? Daylight. If you don't, +we've a way of dealing with Jew drummers that'll likely +worry you. Get it. An' get it good."</p> + +<p>For a moment they looked into each other's eyes. +There was not the flicker of an eyelid between them. +Then Porson turned and strode away.</p> + +<p>He passed down the store re-fastening his coat. He +paused at the door as a chorus of rough laughter reached +him from the little gathering at the table. But it was +only for an instant. He looked back. No face was +turned in his direction. So he passed out.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The night outside was inky black. The heavy falling +snow made progress almost a blind groping. But Porson +knew every inch of the way. He passed down the lines +of huts and paused outside each bunkhouse. His reason +was obvious. There was a question in his mind as to the +whereabouts of the crowd of his men who usually +thronged the liquor store at this hour of the evening.</p> + +<p>It was at the last bunkhouse he paused longest. He +stood for quite a while listening under the double glassed +window. Then he passed on and stood beside the tightly +closed storm-door. The signs and sounds he heard were +apparently sufficient. For, after a while, he turned back +and set out to return to his quarters.</p> + + +<p>For many minutes he groped his way through the +blinding snow, his mind completely given up to the things +his secret watch had revealed. His brutish nature, being +what it was, left him concerned only for the forceful +manner by which he could restore that authority which he +felt to be slipping away from him under the curious +change which had come over the camp. His position +depended on the adequate output of his winter's cut and +on nothing else. That, he knew, was desperately falling, +and—</p> + +<p>But in a moment, all concern was swept from his +mind. A sound leapt at him out of the stillness of the +night. It was the whimper of dogs and the sharp command +of a man's voice. He shouted a challenge and +waited. And presently a dog train pulled up beside him.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford was standing before the wood stove +in the camp-boss's shanty. He had removed his snow-laden +fur coat. He had kicked the damp snow from his +moccasins. Now he was wiping the moisture out of his +eyes, and the chill in his limbs was easing under the +warmth which the stove radiated.</p> + +<p>Ole Porson's grim face was alight with a smile of genuine +welcome, as he stood surveying his visitor across the +roaring stove.</p> + +<p>"It's surely the best thing happened in years, Mr. +Sternford," he was saying. "I'm more glad you made +our camp this night than any other. Maybe I'd ha' got +through someways, but I don't know just how. We're +down over fifty on our cut, an', by the holy snakes, I +can't hand you why."</p> + +<p>Bull put his coloured handkerchief away, and removed +the pea-jacket which he had worn under his furs.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," he said with apparent unconcern. "I +can hand it you. That's why I'm here."</p> + + +<p>The camp-boss waited. He eyed his chief with no +little anxiety. He had looked for an angry outburst.</p> + +<p>Bull pulled up a chair. He flung the litter of books it +supported on to the already crowded table and sat down. +Then he filled his pipe and lit it with a hot coal from the +stove.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, "I'll tell you. I've been the round +of four camps. I've been over a month on the trail, and +I've heard just the same tale from every camp-boss we +employ. I've three more camps to visit besides yours, +and when I've made them maybe I'll get the sleep I'm +about crazy for. Night and day I've been on the dead +jump for a month following the trail of a red-hot gang +that's going through our forests. If I come up with +them there's going to be murder."</p> + +<p>He spoke quietly without a sign of emotion. But the +light in his hot eyes was almost desperate.</p> + +<p>"I want to hand you the story so you'll get it all +clear," he went on after a moment. "So I'll start by telling +you how we stand at the mill. Get this, an' hold +it tight in your head, and the rest'll come clear as +day. Sachigo's right on top. We've boosted it sky high +on to the top of the world's pulp trade. In less than +twelve months we'll have grabbed well-nigh the whole +of this country's pulp industry, and we'll beat the foreigners +right back over the sea to their own country. The +Skandinavia folk are rattled. They know all about us +and they've done their best to buy us out of the game. +We turned 'em down cold, and they're mad—mad as +hell. It means they're in for the fight of their lives. +So are we. And we know Peterman an' his gang well +enough to know what that means. It's 'rough an' + +tough.' Everything goes. If they can't gouge our +eyes they'll do their best to chew us to small meat. +But we've got 'em every way. This forest gang is sent +by the Skandinavia. If they can't smash us by fire or + +labour trouble next year'll see us floated into a seventy +million dollar corporation with the whole Canadian wood-pulp +industry lying right in the palms of our hands. +That's the reason for the things doing."</p> + +<p>He paused, and the camp-boss nodded his rough head. +It was a story he could clearly understand. Then there +were those figures. Seventy million dollars! They swept +the last shadow of doubt from his mind.</p> + +<p>"That's the position," Bull went on. "Now for the +trouble as it is in the forests right now. The thing that's +had me travelling night an' day for a month. There's an +outfit going right through these forests. I can't locate +its extent. Only the way it works. There's two objects +in view. One is to fire our limits. The other reckons +to paralyse our cut. So far these folks have failed against +the fire-guard organisation, and I guess they'll likely miss +most of their fire-bugs when they call the roll. The +other's different."</p> + +<p>Bull knocked out his pipe on the stove and gazed +thoughtfully at the streak of brilliant light under the +edge of the front damper.</p> + +<p>"I've a notion there's an outfit of pedlars at work, as +well as others," he went on presently.</p> + +<p>The camp-boss nodded.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said.</p> + +<p>Bull looked up.</p> + +<p>"You think that way?" he asked. Then he nodded. +"Yes, I guess we're right. They're handing the boys +dope to keep 'em guessing—worrying. They're telling +'em we're on the edge of a big smash at Sachigo. That +we can't see the winter through. We're cleaned out +for cash, and the mill folk are shouting for their wages +and starting in to riot. It's a swell yarn. It's the sort +of yarn I'd tell 'em myself if I was working for the +Skandinavia. It's the sort of dope these crazy forest-jacks +are ready to swallow the same as if it was Rye. + +Do you see? These fools are being told they won't +get their pay for their winter's cut. So, being what +they are, the boys are going slow. They're going slow, +and drawing goods at the store against each cord they +cut. Well, do you see what's going to happen if the +game succeeds? With our forests ablaze, and our cut +fifty down, and the whole outfit on the buck, when spring +comes, Skandinavia reckons our British financiers, when +they come along to look our land over will turn the +whole proposition of the flotation down, and quit us +cold. But that's not just all. No, sir. Elas Peterman +isn't the boy to leave it that way. He's handing out +the story that when Sachigo smashes the Skandinavia's +going to jump right in and collect the wreckage cheap. +Then they'll start up the mill, and sign on all hands on +their own pay-roll, only stipulating that they won't pay +one single cent of what Sachigo owes for their cut. So, +if they're such almighty fools as to cut, it's going to be +their dead loss and the Skandinavia's gain. Do you +get it? It's smart. I guess there's a bigger brain behind +it than Peterman's."</p> + +<p>The camp-boss spat into the stove. It was his one +expression of disgust.</p> + +<p>Bull rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Here, I need food. So does my boy out there with the +dogs. We'll take it after I'm through with the men. It's +snowing like hell, but I pull out two hours from now. +You see, I'm on a hot trail, an' don't fancy losing a +minute."</p> + +<p>"You're goin' to talk to 'em—the boys?" Porson's +eyes lit with a gleam of satisfaction. "Can you—twist +'em?"</p> + +<p>Bull thrust a hand into his breast pocket and drew out +a sealed packet. He held it up before the other's questioning +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I haven't failed yet," he said quietly. "In nine of + +our camps back on the river the work's running full +already. I've a whole big yarn for our boys. But +right here I've got what's better. It's the only thing +that'll clinch the yarn I'm going to hand 'em. This," he +went on, indicating the parcel in his hand, "is the bunch +of dollars representing the price of this camp's full winter +cut, and the price of a bonus for making up all leeway +already lost. I'm going to have the boys count it. Then +I'm going to have them hand it right over to Abe Risdon +to set in his safe, with a written order from me to +pay out in full the moment the winter cut is complete. +Is it good? Can the Skandinavia's junk stand in face +of it? No, sir. And so I've proved right along. I +don't hold much of a brief for the intelligence of the +forest-jack, but his belly rules him all the time. You +see, he's human, and no more dishonest than the rest +of us. Have him guessing and worried and you'll get +trouble right along. Show him the lies the Skandinavia's +been doping him with, and he'll work out of sheer spite +to beat their game. You get right out and collect the +gang."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The snowfall had ceased. And with its passing the +temperature had fallen to something far below its average +winter level. The clouds had vanished miraculously, and +in their place was a night sky ablaze with the light of +myriad stars, and the soft splendour of a brilliant moon.</p> + +<p>It was a scene of frigid desolation. Away on the +southern horizon lay the black line which marked the tremendous +forest limits of the Beaver River. For the rest +it was a world of snow that hid up the rugged undulations +of a sterile territory.</p> + +<p>The dog train was moving at a reckless gait over the +untracked, hardening snow. The man Gouter was +driving under imperative orders such as he loved. Bull + +Sternford had told him when he left the shelter of No. +10 Camp: "Get there! Get there quick! There's dogs +and to spare at all our camps, and I don't care a curse +if you run the outfit to death."</p> + +<p>To a man of Gouter's breed the order was sufficient. +Half Eskimo, half white man, he was a savage of the +wild, born and bred to the fierce northern trail, one of +Labrador's hereditary fur hunters by sea and land. +Speed on the fiercest trail was the dream of his vanity. +Relays of dogs, such as he could never afford, and something +accomplished which he could tell of over the camp +fire to his less fortunate brethren. So he accepted the +white man's order and drove accordingly.</p> + +<p>Bull Sternford sat huddled in the back of the sled +under the fur robes which alone made life possible. His +work at No. 10 Camp had left him satisfied, but every +nerve in his body was alert for the final coup he contemplated. +He was weary in mind as well as body. And +in his heart he knew that the need of his physical resources +was not so very far off. But he was beyond care. He +had said he was crazy for sleep, but the words gave no +indication of his real condition. His eyes ached. His +head throbbed. There were moments, even, when the +things he beheld, the things he thought became distorted. +But he knew that somewhere ahead a ghostly +outfit of strangers was pursuing its evil work against +him, and he meant to come up with it, and to wreak his +vengeance in merciless, summary fashion. His purpose +had become an obsession in the long sleepless days and +nights he had endured.</p> + +<p>It was war. It was bitter ruthless war on the barren +hinterland of Labrador, where civilisation was unknown. +Mercy? Nature never designed that terrible wilderness +as a setting for mercy.</p> + +<p>The dogs had been running for hours when Gouter's +voice came sharply back over his shoulder.</p> + + +<p>"Dog!" he cried, in the laconic fashion habitual to him.</p> + +<p>Bull knelt up. His movement suggested the nervous +strain he was enduring. It was almost electrical.</p> + +<p>"Where?" he demanded, peering out into the shining +night over the man's furry shoulder.</p> + +<p>The half-breed raised a pointing whip ahead and to the +south.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said. "I hear him."</p> + +<p>Bull had heard nothing. Nothing but the hiss of the +snow under their own runners, and the whimper of their +own dogs.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be a wolf or fox?" he demurred.</p> + +<p>The half-breed clucked his tongue. His vanity was +outraged.</p> + +<p>Bull gazed intently in the direction the whip had +pointed. He could see only the far-off forest line, and +the soft whiteness of the world of snow.</p> + +<p>"Hark!"</p> + +<p>The half-breed again held up his whip. This time it +was for attention. Bull listened. Still he could hear +nothing, nothing at all but the sounds of their own +progress.</p> + +<p>"Man! Him speak with dog. Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>Gouter had turned. His beady black eyes were shining +with a smile of triumph into the white man's face.</p> + +<p>"By the forest?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"Then in God's name swing over and run to head +them off!"</p> + +<p>Gouter obeyed with alacrity. He had impressed his +white chief. It was good. A series of unintelligible +ejaculations and the dogs swung away to the south. +Then the whip rolled out and fell with cruel accuracy. +The rawhide tugs strained under a mighty effort, as +the great dogs were set racing with their lean bellies +low to the ground.</p> + + +<p>Bull wiped the icicles from about his mouth and nose.</p> + +<p>"Now have your guns ready," he cried. "The driver +of that team is your man. The other's mine. If he +shows fight kill him. There's five hundred dollars for +you if you get 'em."</p> + +<p>"I get 'em."</p> + +<p>The half-breed's confidence was supreme. Bull +dropped back into the sled. He sat with a pair of automatic +pistols ready to his hand and gazed out over the +sled rail.</p> + +<p>It was a terrific race and all feeling of weariness had +passed under the excitement of it. The dogs were silent +now. Every nerve in their muscular bodies were straining. +The pace seemed to increase with every passing +moment, and up out of the horizon the dark line of the +forest leapt at them, deepening and broadening as it came.</p> + +<p>For some time the less practised white man saw and +heard nothing of his enemies. He was forced to rely on +the half-breed. He observed the man closely. He noted +his every sign and read it as best he could. Presently +Gouter leant forward peering. Then he straightened up +and his voice came back triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"I see dem," he exclaimed. And pointed almost +abreast. "Dogs. One—two—five. Yes. Two man. +Now we get him sure."</p> + +<p>Down fell the whip on the racing dogs. The man +shouted his jargon at them. The sled lurched and swayed +with the added spurt, and Bull held fast to the rail. A +glad thrill surged through his senses.</p> + +<p>It was a moment of tremendous uplift. Bull had +yearned for it for weeks. But the short days and long +nights of deferred hope had had their effect. He had +almost come to feel that this thing that was now at hand +was something impossible.</p> + +<p>Yes. There was the outfit growing plainer and plainer +with every moment. He could see it clearly. He could + +even count its details as the other's sharper eyes had +counted them minutes before. There were five dogs. +And they were running hard. They, too, were being +flogged, and the man driving them was shouting furiously +in his urgency.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a leap of flame and a shot rang +out. It came from the driver of the fleeing dog train. +It was replied to on the instant by Gouter who lost not a +second. His own shot sped even as the enemy's bullet +whistled somewhere past his head. He fired again. A +third shot split the air. And with that last shot the +enemy's sled seemed to leap in the air. There was a +moment of hideous confusion. Then the wreckage +dropped away behind the pursuers, sprawled and still in +the snow.</p> + +<p>A fierce shout from Gouter and his dogs swung round. +The sled under him heeled over, and took a desperate +chance on a single runner. But the half-breed's skill +saved them from catastrophe. It righted itself, and the +dogs slowed to a trot. Then they halted. And the occupants +of the sled flung themselves prone, with their guns +ready for the first sign of movement in the tangled mass +of their adversary's outfit.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Two of the dogs lay buried under the overturned sled. +Three others were sprawling at the end of their rawhide +tugs. They were alive. They were unhurt. They lay +there taking full advantage of the situation for rest.</p> + +<p>But for the moment interest centred round the body +of a white man lying some yards away. A groan of +pain came up to the two men standing over him.</p> + +<p>Bull dropped on his knees. He reached down and +turned the body over. The eyes of the man were visible +between the sides of his fur hood. But that was all.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of silent contemplation. Then +the injured man struggled desperately to rise.</p> + + +<p>"Sternford?" he ejaculated</p> + +<p>Gouter was on him in a moment. He heard the tone +of voice, and interpreted the man's movement in his +own savage fashion. He knew the man to be the driver +of the team, whom his boss had told him was his man. +So he threw him back and held him.</p> + +<p>Bull stood up. The man's voice told him all he wanted +to know.</p> + +<p>"Laval, eh?" he said quietly. "A second time. I +didn't expect it. No."</p> + +<p>Then he laughed and turned away. And the sound of +his laugh possessed something terribly mocking in the +night silence of the wilderness.</p> + +<p>He passed back to the sled. There had been two men +in it. He had seen that for himself.</p> + +<p>The wreckage looked hopeless. The sled was completely +overturned and its gleaming runners caught and +reflected the white rays of the moon. It had been thrown +by reason of the fallen bodies of the dogs which lay +under it, pinned by its weight, and additionally held fast +by their own tangled harness.</p> + +<p>Bull had no thought for anything but the purpose in +his mind. So he reached out and caught the steel runners +in his mitted hands and flung the vehicle aside.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was there in the midst of a confusion of baggage +and lying cheek by jowl with the mangled remains of the +dogs. He cleared the debris, and dragged the dogs aside. +Then he stood and gazed down at the figure that +remained.</p> + +<p>It was clad in a voluminous beaver coat. It was +hooded, as was every man who faced the fierce Labrador +trail. But—</p> + +<p>The figure moved. It stirred, and deliberately sat up. +Bull's hands had been on his guns at the first movement. +But he released them, as the hood fell back from the +face which was ghastly pale in the moonlight.</p> + + +<p>He flung himself on his knees, and tenderly supported +the swaying figure.</p> + +<p>"God in Heaven!" he cried. "Nancy! You?"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_29"></a> +<h3>Chapter XX—On The Home Trail</h3> + + +<p>Nancy's eyes were desperately troubled as she gazed out +across the great valley of the Beaver River. Somewhere +behind her, in the shelter of the woods, a mid-day camp +had been pitched, and the men who had captured her red-hand +in the work of their enemies were preparing the, +rough food of the trail. But she was beyond all such +concern.</p> + +<p>Far out on every hand lay the amazing panorama of +the splendid valley, but she saw none of it. The mighty +frozen waterway, the depths of virgin snow, the far-reaching +woodlands its gaping lips embraced; they were +things of frigid beauty for her eyes to gaze upon, but their +meaning was lost upon a mind tortured with the vivid, +hateful pictures it was powerless to escape.</p> + +<p>From the moment of that dreadful night when she +had witnessed the ruthless climax of the work to which +she had given herself she had known no peace. It was +no thought of her failure, her capture, that inspired her +trouble. She could have been thankful enough for that. +It was the only mercy, she felt, that had been vouchsafed +to her.</p> + +<p>No, long before her capture, a deep undermining of +regret had set in. She had been without realisation of +it, perhaps. But it had been there. In yielding to the +demands of those she served, in her self-confidence she +had forgotten the woman in her. She had forgotten +everything but the crazy ambition which had blinded +her to all consequences. Yes, even in the excitement of + +the work itself she had forgotten everything but the +achievement she desired. But through it all, under it +all, the woman in her had been slowly awakening, and +an unadmitted regret at the destruction of work which +meant the whole life of another had been stirring. Then, +when the leading tongues of the guns had flashed out, +and human life, even the life of dogs, had yielded to the +demand of her cause, the last vestige of her dreaming +had been swept away, and she told herself it was murder, +<em>murder at her bidding</em>!</p> + +<p>Now her soul was afire with the bitterness of repentance, +with passionate self-accusation. Murder had been +done through her. Murder! The horror of it all had +driven her well-nigh demented when she gazed from the +distance while the two men disposed of Arden Laval's +body under the snow. The dogs? They had been +left where they fell. The living had been cut loose from +their trappings to roam the forests at their will, while +the dead had remained to satisfy the fierce hunger of +the savage forest creatures. Even the sled had been +destroyed, and its wood used to make fire that the living +might endure on those pitiless northern heights. The +memory of it all was days old now, but its horror showed +no abatement. The agony was still with her. She felt +that never again could she know peace.</p> + +<p>So she had moved away out from camp, as she had +done at every stopping they had made on the long +journey from the highlands down to Sachigo. Somehow +it seemed to her impossible to do otherwise. She felt +she must hide herself from the sight of those others who +were her captors, and who, in their hearts, she felt, must +deeply abhor the presence of so vile a creature in their +camp.</p> + +<p>How long she had been standing there, while the men +prepared the mid-day meal, she did not know. It was +a matter of no sort of consequence to her anyway. Nothing + +really seemed of any consequence now. Her jaded +mind was obsessed by a horror she could not shake off. +There was nothing, nothing in the world to do but nurse +the anguish driving her.</p> + +<p>"You'll come right along and eat, Nancy?"</p> + +<p>The girl almost jumped at the gentle tones of the man's +voice, and glanced round at Bull Sternford in an agony +of sudden terror.</p> + +<p>"I—I—" she stammered. Then composure returned +to her. "If you wish it," she said submissively. "But I +don't need food."</p> + +<p>Bull regarded the averted face for moments. Sympathy +and love were in his clear gazing eyes. He understood +something of the thing she was enduring, and the +tone of his voice had been a real expression of his feelings. +This girl, with the courage of twenty men, with +her radiant beauty, and in her pitiful, heartbroken condition, +was far more precious to him than any victory he +had set himself to achieve. He knew that the world held +nothing half so precious.</p> + +<p>He came a step nearer.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you'll listen to me, Nancy," he said, with +a hesitation and doubt utterly foreign, to him. "You +know, for all that's happened, for all we're mixed up +against each other in this war, I'm the same man you +found me on the <em>Myra</em> and in Quebec. I—"</p> + +<p>"Don't."</p> + +<p>The girl flung out her hands in a piteous appeal. And +Bull recognised the hysteria lying behind the movement.</p> + +<p>"I know," she cried. "Oh, I know. But—don't you +understand? You must know what I am. It's my doing +that Laval has gone to his death. I'm responsible, just +as surely as if I'd fired the gun that robbed him of his +life. Oh, why, why didn't I refuse the work? Why did +they send me? And those dogs. Those poor helpless +dogs. They, too. I must have been mad—mad. How + +can you come near me? How can you stand there summoning +me to eat food—with you? It's useless. It's—I +who sent that man to his death—I who—"</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought it was Gouter."</p> + +<p>Bull's manner had suddenly changed. The danger +signal in the girl's eyes had determined him. So he +smiled, and there was laughter in his challenge.</p> + +<p>"Say," he went on rapidly, "if you told that to +Gouter he'd be crazy mad. He's the boss running shot +on Labrador, and if you claimed responsibility for the +killing of Laval you'd be dead up against it with him." +He shook his head. "No, he's sort of grieved he didn't +drop him plumb on the instant as it is. It won't do you +talking that way with him around."</p> + +<p>He watched for the effect of his words and realised a +slight relaxing of the strained look in the hazel eyes. +Forthwith he plunged into the thing he contemplated.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to make a big talk with you before we +eat," he said. "You see, I've wanted to right along, +Nancy, but—Well, I want to tell you you're no more +responsible for Laval's life, and the lives of those dogs, +than I am. We're each playing our little parts in the +things of life like the puppets we are. Our hands are +clean enough, but it's not that way with the skunks that +could send you, a girl, almost a child, to do the work, and +live the life that boys like Gouter hardly know how to +get through. That man, Peterman, is going to get it +one day from me if I have luck. And I won't call it +murder when I get my hands on his dirty alien throat. +But never mind that. I want to ease that poor aching +head of yours. I want to try and get you some peace of +mind. That's why I tell you you've nothing to chide +yourself for, nothing at all. It's true. You've played +the game like the loyal adversary you are. And, for the +moment, I'm top dog. You've handed me a bad nightmare +by the wonderful courage and grit you've well-nigh + +shamed me, as a man, with. True, true you haven't +a thing to blame yourself with. You've fought a mighty +big fight I'd have been pleased to fight. It's just circumstances +pitched you into the muss up, and let you +see the thing your folks have brought about. It's +that that's worrying. Think, Nancy, think hard. This +is their fight. Not yours. The blood of Laval is on +Elas Peterman's head. His, and those other creatures +who are ready to commit any crime to steal our country +from us. Oh, I'm not preaching just my side. It's +true, true. We at Sachigo were content to compete +openly, honestly. Peterman and those others saw disaster +in our competition. And so they got ready to murder—if +necessary. It's the soulless crime of a gang of +unscrupulous foreigners, and those hounds of hell have +left you to suffer for it just as sure as if they'd seared your +poor gentle heart with a red hot iron. Say, Nancy," he +went on, with persuasive earnestness, "put it all out of +your mind. Forget it all. You're out of the fight now. +And it just hurts me to see your eyes troubled, and that +poor tender heart of yours all broken up. Won't you?"</p> + +<p>The girl had turned away to the gaping valley again. +But she answered him. And her tone was less dull, and +it was without the dreadful passion of moments ago.</p> + +<p>"I—I've tried to tell myself something of that," she +said, with the pathetic helplessness of a child.</p> + +<p>"Then try some more."</p> + +<p>Bull had drawn nearer. He laid one hand gently on +her shoulder. It moved down and took possession of +the soft arm under her furs. Nancy shook her head. +But there was no decision in the movement.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish—" she began.</p> + +<p>But she could get no further. Suddenly she buried her +face in her hands, and broke into a passion of weeping.</p> + +<p>Bull stood helplessly by. He gazed upon the shaking +woman while great sobs racked her whole body. There + +was nothing he could do, nothing he dared do. He knew +that. His impulse was to take her in his arms and protect +her with his body against the things which gave her +pain. But—somehow he felt that perhaps it was good +for her to weep. Perhaps it would help her. So he waited.</p> + +<p>Slowly the violence of the girl's grief subsided. And +after a while she turned to him and gazed at him through +her tears.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm—"</p> + +<p>But Bull shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Come. Shall we go and eat?"</p> + +<p>He still retained his hold upon her arm. And as he +spoke he led her unresistingly away towards the camp.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_30"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXI—The Man In The Twilight</h3> + + +<p>Bat Harker passed out of the house on the hillside. +Muffled in heavy furs he stood for a moment filling up the +storm doorway, gazing out over a desolate prospect, a +scene of grave-like, significant stillness.</p> + +<p>The mills he loved were completely idle. But that +was not all. He knew them to be at the mercy of an +army of men who had abandoned their work at the call +of wanton political and commercial agitators. It was +disaster, grievous disaster. And he told himself he was +about to beat a retreat like some hard-pressed general, +hastily retiring in face of the enemy from a position no +longer tenable.</p> + +<p>There was no yielding in the lumberman. But to a man +of his forcefulness and headstrong courage the thought +of retreat was maddening. He was yearning to fight +in any and every way that offered. He knew that he +was going to fight this thing out, that his present retreat +was purely strategic. He knew that the whole campaign + +was only just beginning. But it galled his spirit +that his first move must be a—retreat.</p> + +<p>The late winter day was fiercely threatening, fit setting +for the disaster that had befallen. The cold was bitterly +intense, but no more bitter than the lumberman's present +mood. There down below were the deserted quays +with their mountains of baled wood-pulp buried deep +under white drifts of snow. And the voiceless mills +were similarly half buried. Look where he would the +scene was dead and deserted. There was not one single +stirring human figure to break up the desolation of it all.</p> + +<p>It was a sad, white, desolate world, which for over +fifteen years he had known only as a busy hive. Roadways +should have been clear. Traffic should have been +speeding, every service, even in the depth of winter, +should have been in full running. The mills—those +wonderful mills—should have been droning out their +chorus of human achievement in a world set out for +Nature's fiercest battle ground.</p> + +<p>From the moment of that first encounter in the recreation +hall Bat had known the strike to be inevitable. +Bull's swift action at the outset had had its effect. For +the moment it had checked the movement, and reduced it +to a simmer. Heat and power had been restored, and +work had been resumed, and outwardly there had been +peace. But it was artificial, and the lumberman and +the engineer had been aware that this was so.</p> + +<p>Brief as was the respite it was valuable time to the +men in control, and they used it to the uttermost. The +leaders of the strike had been robbed of the advantage +they had sought from a lightning strike. But they were +by no means defeated. It was only that they had lost +a move in the game they had prepared.</p> + +<p>At the end of a week Bat awoke one morning to find +the mills and all traffic at a standstill, and the workers +skulking within the shelter of their own homes.</p> + + +<p>Then it was that the benefit of a week's respite was +made plain. Every plan that had been prepared was +forthwith put into operation. Power and heat were +again cut off. The loyalists, which included a large +number of the engineering staff, and the staff of the executive +offices, were equipped with such weapons as would +serve, and set guard over the food and liquor stores, and +the essentials of the mills. And the power house was +fortified for siege.</p> + +<p>But the strikers gave no sign. There was no attempt +at violence. There was no picketing, and no apparent +attempt at coercion of the loyalists. It almost seemed +as if the objects of the leaders had been achieved by the +simple cessation of work.</p> + +<p>This silent condition of the strike had gone on for +days with exasperating effect upon the defenders. Bat +endeavoured by every means in his power to bring the +leaders of the movement into the open to discuss the +situation. But every effort ended negatively. The men +would not contemplate the conference table, and finally, +in headlong mood, the lumberman had committed the +grave mistake of provocation. He threatened to cut off +food supplies if the leaders continued in their refusal +to confer.</p> + +<p>Two weeks elapsed before his threat reacted. Two +weeks of continued silence and apparent inaction by the +strike leaders. The men's first terror at the loss of heat +and power seemed to have passed. As Bull had suggested +they had resorted to the methods of the trail, and +day and night mighty beacon fires burned along the fore-shores +of the cove upon which their homes were built. +The men and women came and went peaceably but silently +between the food stores and their homes, purchasing +such provisions as they needed. And the manner of +it all, the cold silence, should have served a warning of the +iron hand in exercise behind the strike.</p> + + +<p>The bombshell came at the end of the third week. It +came in the form of a message crouched in the flamboyant +phraseology beloved of the Communist fraternity. +It was conveyed by a small youth some ten years of +age, as though its authors were fearful lest a full grown +bearer should be made to suffer for the temerity.</p> + +<p>Bat had received it at the office, and his manner had +been characteristic.</p> + +<p>"Fer me, laddie?" he had said, as he took possession +of the official-looking envelope. Then he gently patted +the boy's shoulder. "All right, sonny," he added. "You +get right back to your folks. Pore little bit."</p> + +<p>With the boy's departure he had lost no time in reading +the ultimatum the message contained.</p> + +<div class="display"> +<p>"A Soviet has been formed. The Workers will not submit +to inteference with the food supplies of the people such +as has been threatened by men who have no right over the life +and death of their fellows. In view of this threat, the Soviet +of the Workers has determined to possess itself of the +mills and all properties pertaining thereto. The whole territories +and properties hither controlled under a capitalist +organisation will in future be administered by the Soviet +or the Workers. You are required, therefore, to hand +over forthwith all accountings, administration, and all +funds, all legal documentary titles such as are held by you +of freeholds and forestry rights relating to Sachigo. Furthermore, +it is required of you to restore intact the machinery +of the new power station, and to hand over the whole +premises in full running order. One week's grace will be +permitted for the execution of this order. Failing absolute +compliance, the ruling Soviet of the Workers reserves to +itself the right of adopting such measures to enforce the +Will of the Workers as it may deem necessary.</p> + +<p>"On behalf of the Soviet of the Workers,</p> + +<p>"LEO MURKO,</p> + +<p>"Chief Commissionary."</p> + +</div> + +<p>At the finish of his reading Bat had looked up into +the dark face of Pete Loale who was standing by.</p> + + +<p>"Leo Murko?" he said, in an ominously restrained +tone. "Ther' ain't no guy o' that name on our pay-roll. +Guess he'll be that feller Bull dropped out into the snow." +Then with a sudden explosive force: "In God's name +why in hell didn't he break that skunk's neck?"</p> + +<p>The week's grace had expired. It had been a week of +further hasty preparations. Every day had been used +to the uttermost, and even far into the night the work +had gone on. The office on the hill, as well as the executive +offices down at the mill, had been cleared out. Documents, +cash, books, safe. Everything of real importance +had been removed to the citadel power house. The +mining of the penstocks had been completed, and left +ready to be blown sky high at a moment's notice. Whatever +befell, the men who had given their lives to the building +of the mills were determined that only a useless husk +should fall into the hands of the strikers.</p> + +<p>Now had come the Communists' final declaration of +war. The message had been brought less than an hour +ago by the same youth, who had again departed with +Bat's smiling expression of pity. The letter was ominously +brief.</p> + +<div class="display"> +<p>"The Order of the Soviet of the Workers will be enforced +forthwith. No mercy will be shown in the event of resistance."</p> +</div> + +<p>Bat's fury had blazed as he read the message. Again it +was signed "Leo Murko." How he hated that name. +He had been alone in the office when the letter came, and +had seized the 'phone and called up the engineer at the +power house, and read the message to him. Skert Lawton's +reply was as instant as it was characteristic.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said. "We're fixed for the scrap. +Just come right over."</p> + +<p>It was this last act that Bat contemplated now. And + +he hated it. He knew well enough he must go. There +was no sane alternative. The power station was the +prepared fortress. It had everything in it that must be +guarded and fought for. But his fierce regret was none +the less for the knowledge.</p> + +<p>Then, too, his regret was for something else. It +was at the absence of Bull Sternford. This was no +expression of weakness. It was simply he desired the +man's companionship. They had worked together. They +had planned and built together. And, now, in the moment +of battle, it seemed to him they should still be together.</p> + +<p>But he knew that was impossible. When Bull's call +to the forest had come in the night there had been no +opportunity for explanation. He, Bat, had been engaged +down at the mill, and the other had been rushed +in his preparations. Bull had made his farewell to him +in a great hurry. He had outlined briefly the thing +happening in the forests. That had been all. That and +a few words on the affairs of the mill.</p> + +<p>How the news had reached Bull, and who the messenger, +had never transpired between them. Perhaps +Bull had forgotten to mention it. Perhaps, in the hurry +of it all, Bat had forgotten to ask. Perhaps, even, the +messenger himself had impressed secrecy for his visit, +which had been timed for the dead of night. At any +rate Bat knew none of these things, and was in no way +concerned for them. All he was concerned for was the +absence of the man who was something more to him than +a mere partner.</p> + +<p>Thinking of him now Bat remembered the other's +final words, and the memory stirred him deeply.</p> + +<p>"Remember, old friend," he had said, "young Ray +Birchall will be over from England at the break of winter. +On his report to his people depends the whole thing we've +built up. We've got to have these mills running full when + +that boy gets around. There's not a darn thing else +matters."</p> + +<p>It was the final spur. The mills running full. Bat +spat out his chew, and turned and locked the door behind +him. Then he moved away hurriedly, gazing straight +in front of him as though he dared not even think of the +place he was leaving.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>On the foreshore of the Cove, out towards the guarding +headlands, half a hundred fires were burning. They +were immense beacon fires of monstrous proportions. +Belching columns of smoke clouded the whole region +till the water-front looked to be in the grip of a forest +fire.</p> + +<p>Men, and women, and children were gathered about +them. They were basking in a moderation of temperature +such as their homes could no longer afford them. +But it was a curious, silent gathering, indifferent to everything +but the feeding of the fires on which they felt their +very existence depended.</p> + +<p>The forests which supplied the fuel came down to the +edge of the now idle trolley track. Already acres and +acres had been felled to feed the insatiable fires. The +woodland decimated, and the devastation was going on +in every direction.</p> + +<p>About the houses there were others engaged in homely +chores. There were men, and women, too, clad heavily +in the thick sheepskin clothing which alone could defeat +the fierce breath of winter. Here again was silence and +gloom, and even the children refrained from their accustomed +pastimes.</p> + +<p>A tall, fur-clad figure was moving through the settlement. +His feet were encased in moccasins, and thick +felt leggings reached up just below his knees. For the +rest his nether garments were loose fur trousers, and his + +body was covered by a tunic reaching just below his +middle, with a capacious hood attached to it almost completely +enveloping his head.</p> + +<p>He moved slowly and without any seeming object. +He passed along, and paused when he encountered either +man, woman, or child. With the men he spoke longest. +But the women claimed him, too. And generally he +left behind him a change of expression for the better in +those with whom he talked.</p> + +<p>He paused beside a small party of elderly men. They +were at work upon a prone tree trunk of vast girth. They +were cutting and splitting it, fresh feed for the fires which +must never be permitted to die down.</p> + +<p>The men had ceased work on his approach. But they +went on almost immediately, all except one. He was +a grizzled veteran, a man just past middle life. His face +was deeply lined, and a scrub of whisker protected it from +the cold. He had been seated on the log, but he stood up +as the tall man addressed him by name.</p> + +<p>"You'll be there, Michael," he said, brushing the frost +from his darkly whiskered face, and breaking the icicles +hanging from his fur hood where it almost closed over +his mouth.</p> + +<p>The man's grey eyes were smiling as they looked into +the wide black eyes so mildly encouraging.</p> + +<p>"Sure, Father," came his prompt reply. "We got +to be ther' anyway. That don't matter. But we're for +your lead, an' we'll stand by it, sure. There's going to +be no sort of damn fool mistake this time."</p> + +<p>The tall man nodded.</p> + +<p>"There must be no mistake this time," he said keenly. +"Say, how many years is it since I sent you along here +with a promise of good work and better wages, and a +square deal?"</p> + +<p>"Nigh five years, Father."</p> + +<p>"And you got all—those things?"</p> + + +<p>"Sure. More."</p> + +<p>Father Adam nodded.</p> + +<p>"And those are the things a man's entitled to. Just +those," he said. "If a man wants more it's up to him. +He must earn it in competition with the rest of his fellows. +If he can't earn it he must do without, or quit the +honesty that entitles him to hold his head up in the world. +There's no honesty in the things these men propose."</p> + +<p>"That's so, Father."</p> + +<p>There was decision in the man's agreement. But even +as he spoke his gaze wandered in the direction of two +small children, like bundles of fur, playing in the snow.</p> + +<p>"Poor little kids," he said. "Say, it's hell for them +with heat cut off."</p> + +<p>Again the tall man nodded as he followed the other's +gaze.</p> + +<p>"That's so. But I don't blame the mill-bosses. This +gang is trying to steal from the men who've always handed +out a straight deal. Do you blame them for defending +themselves?"</p> + +<p>Michael shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't see I can. After all—"</p> + +<p>"No. Listen. You boys have it in your own hands. +These crooks from the Skandinavia got a strangle holt +on the youngsters of this outfit who've no kiddies like +those. You older boys let 'em get it. You weren't +awake. Now you find yourselves caught in the tide. +We've got to make a break for it. There'll be heat in +plenty when you break free. Seven o'clock. That's the +time your masters ordered the meeting for. Seven +o'clock. That's the time they intend to commit their great +crime—with you helping them."</p> + +<p>Father Adam smiled as he drove his satire home.</p> + +<p>"Not on your life!" The man's grey eyes were fierce. +"Give us the lead, Father," he cried. "We—we just +got to have that. Ther' ain't a real lumber-jack in these + +forests won't follow it. It'll be a scrap. A hell of a +scrap. Oh, I know. Maybe some of us'll never see the +light of another day. But sure it's got to be. We ought +to've gone over from the start, and stood by our jobs. +But I guess none of us with wives and kiddies had the +guts. They threatened our women and children, an' we +weakened. But it's different now, sure. We've learned our +lesson. It's themselves they're out for, an' we'll be their +dogs to be kicked and bullied as they see fit. We'll +follow your lead, Father, an' it don't matter a cuss when +the scrap comes."</p> + +<p>Father Adam nodded. His dark eyes were alight with +something more than the smile shining in them.</p> + +<p>"Good," he said. "I shall be there."</p> + +<p>He moved away and Michael rejoined his companions. +They talked together for a moment or two while their +eyes followed the receding figure. They saw it stop and +speak to one of their wives. She had a small child with +her. They saw it bend down into a squatting attitude +and draw the child towards it. Then they saw a lean +hand draw out of its mit and proceed to touch a swelling +on the little mite's neck. They understood. And +when the figure finally passed on out of sight, they returned +to their work, each man absorbed in his own +thought, each man with a surge of deep feeling for that +lonely figure. For they were all men who knew, and +understood the man who lived in the twilight of the +forests.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The recreation room was packed to suffocation, packed +from end to end with a human freight. The benches +were crowded, and the tables groaned under the weight +of as many rough-clad creatures as could crowd themselves +thereon. Every inch of floor space was occupied, +and even the recesses in the log walls which contained + +the windows were utilised as sitting places for the audience +which had gathered at the imperative order of the +Soviet of the Workers.</p> + +<p>Kerosene lamps had replaced the brilliant electric light +to which the men were accustomed. A haze of tobacco +smoke created a sort of fog throughout the length of the +building, and contrived to soften the harsh lines of the +sea of human faces turned towards the raised platform +whereon sat the members of the ruling Soviet. The +temperature of the room was cold for all the warming +influence of the human gathering, and every man wore +his fur-lined pea-jacket closely buttoned.</p> + +<p>Once, in a light moment, Bull Sternford had declared +that male human nature in the "bunch" was the ugliest +thing in the world. Had he witnessed that sea of faces, +so intently, so anxiously turned towards the leaders +they had presumably elected, he must have been well +satisfied with the truth of his conviction.</p> + +<p>Such was the ascendancy and power the Bolshevist +leaders had gained in the brief month since the first +rumble of industrial war had been heard in Sachigo, +that there were few who had failed to obey their summons. +Not only was the hall crowded but a gathering of +many hundreds waited outside. It was the hour of Fate +for all. They understood that. It was the hour of that +Fate which had been decreed by men, who, under the +guise of democratic selection had usurped a power over +the rest of the community such as no elected parliament +of the world had ever been entrusted with.</p> + +<p>It was doubtful if the majority fully realised the +significance of what was being done. It is certain that a +feeling of deep regret stirred voicelessly in many hearts. +But every man there was a simple wage earner whose +horizon was bounded by that which his wage opened +up. For the rest he was left guessing, but more often +fearing. So, with his muscles of iron, his human desires, + +and his reluctance to apply such untrained reasoning as +he possessed, he was ripe subject for fluent, unscrupulous, +political agitators, and ready to sweep along with any +tide that set in.</p> + +<p>The leaders on the platform understood this well +enough. It was their business to understand it. The +others, the leaders' immediate supporters, were men of +fiery youth, or those whose work it was to wreck at all +costs, and snatch to themselves, in addition to pay for +their fell work, such loot as the wreckage afforded them.</p> + +<p>The hum of talk snuffed right out as the leader rose +to address the meeting. It was Leo Murko, the same +man, a hard-faced, foreign-looking Hebrew whom a +month before Bull's great arms flung through the +broken window into the snowdrift beyond. His position +now, however, was far different from that which it +had been when his endeavours had been concentrated +upon enrolling a Communist following. All that had +been achieved or sufficiently so. Now he was the dictator +whose orders could be backed by an irresistible force. +His whole manner had changed. The velvet glove of +persuasion had been discarded, and he hurled his commands +with deep-throated authority, and the smile of +encouragement and persuasion was completely abandoned.</p> + +<p>His preliminary was brief. A phrase or two of flattery +and acknowledgment to those on the platform supporting +him dismissed that. Then he passed on to the objects +in view. In five minutes he had dismissed also the ultimate +destiny of the mills, and the manner in which the +Workers were to benefit by its administration. Then he +flung himself into a fiery denunciation of all capitalists, +and particularly those who had dared to employ his +audience on good wages for something like fifteen years. +That completed he passed on to the plans for taking +over the mills forthwith.</p> + +<p>During the earlier part of his address the audience + +listened with grave attention. Here and there little +outbursts of applause punctuated his sentences. But +when he came to the task which had been set for that +night a deathly silence prevailed everywhere. The +intensity was added to rather than broken by the harsh +clearing of throats that came from almost every part of +the hall.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing needs cleaning up before daylight," +he hurled at them. "Our organisation is complete. +Here," and he indicated the table nearby littered with +papers and surrounded by four or five men who were +members of the elected Soviet, "we have the lists of +the names of every comrade, and the numbers of men to +be used in every detail of the work before us. They have +been carefully drawn up with a view to the task required +to be put through. Some tasks will be simple. Some +will be less so." A grim light that was almost a smile +shone in his black eyes. "But we have carefully discriminated +in our personnel. That is as it should be. +There will be certain bloodshed. Knowing the temperament +and preparations of your late masters this seems to +be inevitable. But again we have provided. Our +greatest and most important task is the possession +of the power station, and for the capture of that we have +machine guns which will quickly reduce the enemy to +capitulation. The strength of the enemy we know to the +last fraction—"</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>The challenge came from the back of the hall. It came +in a quiet, refined voice that swept through the hall with +the cold cut of a knife. Someone had risen from a sitting +position on a table. He stood up. It was the tall, dark +figure of Father Adam clad in a garment which enveloped +him from head to foot like the black cassock of a priest.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" he cried again, as the startled leader +stared stupidly at the interrupter.</p> + + +<p>Every eye turned to the back of the hall on the instant. +The men on the platform looked up from their +work to witness the daring of one who could interrupt +the elected leader of the people. One man, slight, +foreign-looking, who had been seated at the back of the +platform stood up and leant against the wall.</p> + +<p>"You know nothing of these people you are determined +to destroy with machine guns," Father Adam +went on. "You know nothing of the men with whom +you are dealing, either the owners of the mill, or the +men who have found an ample livelihood under their +organisation. How can you know them? You are +dastardly agents of an alien company, sent and paid to +wreck a wholly Canadian enterprise. This is your +first object. Your second is even more sinister, for you +are the agents of that mad Leninism which has destroyed +a whole race of workers in a vast country like Russia. +You are a supreme pestilence seeking to destroy such +human nature as will listen to your vile doctrines. It is +I, I, Father Adam, tell you so. The men here to-night, +whom you are inciting to theft and brutal murder, know +me. They know me as their servant, as their loyal +comrade and helper, ready to answer their call when +trouble overtakes them, ready to yield them of my best +service in the day of prosperity or the night of their +woe. And as it is with them so it is with their women and +their babes. That's the reason I am here to-night, the +black night of their woe. And so I ask them to listen +to me now as they have listened many times before in +the woods and the mills, which is the world to which +we all belong. If they do that, if only reason asserts +itself, they'll here and now turn on you, and rend you, +you and your wretched gang. They'll cast you out of +their midst, and fling off a foreign yoke, as they would +cast out any other unclean pestilence for the purification +of their homes. They'll pack you out into the + +northern night where no foul germs can exist. Are they +to become thieves at your bidding? Are they to become +murderers because your foreign money has bought +them machine guns? Would they go back to their +women, and their innocent babes, wiping their blood-stained +hands to ask them to rejoice in the brutal crime +committed in the name of brotherhood and fellowship? +No, sir. I know them. You don't—"</p> + +<p>The Bolshevist flung out a denouncing hand and +bellowed in his seething wrath:</p> + +<p>"Traitor! He is of the Cap—"</p> + +<p>But immediate uproar drowned his denunciation and +a great voice shouted in the din.</p> + +<p>"Let him speak."</p> + +<p>A dozen other voices strove to make themselves heard, +and a wild pandemonium was rising when clear and sharp +Father Adam's voice rang out again above it.</p> + +<p>"I tell you they'll have no more of you," he cried as +the leader dropped back to his seat, and the dark man +at the back of the platform further bestirred himself. +"Order them now to man your machine guns and murder +the men in the power house! Give your orders here and +now! Read out your list of names and see—"</p> + +<p>A shot rang out. The flame of a gun leapt somewhere +at the back of the platform, to be followed by complete, +utter silence.</p> + +<p>Then came a sound. It was a hardly-suppressed +moan. Father Adam reeled slowly. He half turned +about. Then he crumpled and dropped to his knees +and fell forward into hands outstretched to catch him.</p> + +<p>Paralysis seemed to grip that dense-packed human +throng. But it was only for a second. Then the avalanche +leapt for the abyss.</p> + +<p>"Father! Father Adam!"</p> + +<p>The cry went up seemingly from a thousand throats. + +And with a roar the crowd surged forward. It hurled +itself at the platform.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull stared up at the house. He moved away and +glanced over the windows. Then his eyes turned to +the valley below, and his gaze settled itself on the great +fires burning on the northern foreshore of the Cove.</p> + +<p>For some moments he stood contemplating the thing +he beheld. Then, at last, he turned back to the locked +door of his office. Without a word he raised one foot, +and, with all his force, crashed its sole against the lock.</p> + +<p>The lock gave and the door fell back into the pitch +darkness beyond. He passed within. After a while +a light appeared in the office window. It passed. Then it +reappeared in each window of the building in succession. +Presently it remained stationary and fresh lights +appeared in several of the windows. Minutes later he +reappeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>He stepped out into the snow and came over to the +waiting dog train.</p> + +<p>"It's a cold sort of welcome," he said quietly. "But—will +you please come right in, and I'll see how I can +fix you up for comfort. I guess things have happened +since I've been away. They've turned off heat. However—"</p> + +<p>Nancy McDonald rose from her place in the sled. She +flung back the wealth of furs under which she had been +well-nigh buried and stepped out. She made no reply, +but stood waiting while Bull gave orders to his driver.</p> + +<p>"Get those dogs fixed, Gouter," he said. "Then +come right along back here. You'll need to gather +fuel and set those stoves going."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>A great fire was roaring in the wood stove in the office. +Nancy and Bull were standing before it seeking to drive + +out the cold which seemed to have eaten into their +bones. Bull had drawn up his own rocker-chair for the +girl but she had not availed herself of it.</p> + +<p>"You are not going to keep me here, prisoner in—your +house?"</p> + +<p>The girl spoke in a low, hushed tone. In the indifferent +lamp-light she looked ghastly pale and utterly weary-eyed. +She had removed her furs, revealing herself clad +in the heavy clothing which alone could have served +on her desperate journey through the camps. It robbed +her figure of much of its usual grace.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I am." Bull smiled gently, for all the +decision of his words. "You see, Nancy, we're still at +war. Still fighting the battle that others have forced +on us."</p> + +<p>Nancy inclined her head.</p> + +<p>"I'd forgotten," she said almost humbly. "But +you have no women folk around you," she went on +urgently a moment later. "Does war mean that—that I +must submit even—to that?"</p> + +<p>It was the woman in her that had taken alarm. Her +hands were pressed together as she held them over the +stove. The man understood. She moved away to the +window, over which the curtains had not been drawn, +and Bull watched her.</p> + +<p>"Every respect will be paid you," he said. "You've +nothing to fear. When Gouter returns he'll get food, +and we'll make the best preparations we can. I've +to consider others with more at stake than even I."</p> + +<p>"Look!"</p> + +<p>The girl had turned. Her eyes were wide with terror. +She was pointing at the window, and Bull hurried to her +side.</p> + +<p>A great fire was raging on the north shore of the Cove. +It was the recreation room, that room which Bat had +so bitterly come to hate. It was ablaze from end to + +end, and lit up its neighbourhood so that the scene was +of daylight clearness. A horde of human figures were +gathered about it, in a struggling, seething mass, and +the man realised that a battle was raging, a human +battle, whilst the demon of fire was left to work its will.</p> + +<p>He stood there, held speechless by the thing he beheld.</p> + +<p>"What is it? What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>Panic drove the questions to the girl's lips. And she +turned in an agony of appeal to the man beside her.</p> + +<p>"It means the work of the Skandinavia has been well +and truly done."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_31"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXII—Dawn</h3> + + +<p>The hush of dawn was unbroken. The shadows of +night receded slowly, reluctantly renouncing their long +reign in favour of the brief winter daylight. The shores +of the Cove lay hidden under a haze of fog.</p> + +<p>There were no sounds of life. The world was desperately +still. No cry of wild fowl rose to greet the day. +There was not even the doleful cry of belated wolf, or +the snapping bark of foraging coyote to indicate those +conditions of life which never change in the northern +wilderness. It was as if the world of snow and ice were +waking to a day of complete mourning, a day of bitter +reckoning for the tumult of furious human passions, +which, under the cloak of night, had been loosed to work +the evil of men's will.</p> + +<p>With the first gleam of the rising sun a breeze leapt out +of the east. It came with an edge like the keenest knife, +and ripped the fog to ribbons. It churned and tangled it. +Then it flung it clear of its path, leaving bare the scene +of wreckage which the rage of battle had produced.</p> + +<p>It was a scene for pity and regret. Gone was the + +building which had been set up for the workers' recreation. +Only a smoking ruin remained in its place. A dozen +other buildings in the neighbourhood bore the scars of +fire, which they would doubtless carry for all time of +their service. The mill, however, was safe. The work +of more than fifteen years remaining intact. But it had +been so near, so very near to complete destruction.</p> + +<p>With the passing of the fog further disaster was revealed. +It was the wreck of human life which the night +had produced. Daylight had made it possible to deal +with the injured and those beyond all human aid. And +the work was going forward in the almost voiceless +fashion which the presence of death ever imposes on +the living.</p> + +<p>Viewed even from a distance there could be no mistaking +the meaning, the hideous significance of it all. And +Nancy, gazing from a window in the house on the hill, +shrank in terror before that which she believed to be the +result of the cruel work to which she had lent herself.</p> + +<p>It had been a dreary, heartbreaking night of sleepless +watching and poignant feeling. Nancy was alone in her +prison, a beautiful apartment, the best in the house. Bull +Sternford had conducted her thither personally, and, in +doing so, had told her the thing he was doing, and of his +real desire to save her unnecessary distress.</p> + +<p>"You see," he had explained, with a gentleness which +Nancy felt she had no right to expect, "there's just +about the best of everything right here. It's as it was +left by the feller who designed and decorated it for the +woman he loved better than anything in life. No one's +ever used it since. I'd be glad for you to have it. We've +only a Chink servant to wait around on us, and a rough +choreman, and I guess they don't know a thing about +fixing things for a woman. But they've kept it clean +and wholesome, and that's all I can say. Can you make +out in it to-night?"</p> + + +<p>He smiled. Then his steady eyes had turned away +to the window where the light of the raging fire could be +seen. And after a moment he went on.</p> + +<p>"You're a prisoner. I can't help that. That's got +to be. But no lock or bolt will be set to keep you here. +You're free to come and go as you choose. You can +make the doors of the room fast against intrusion, if you +feel that way. But there'll be none. To-night you'll +just be dead alone in the place. You see, I've got to +get out and pull my weight down there."</p> + +<p>So he had left her. He had left her to a punishment +more desperate than anything he could have designed. +Her windows looked out over the mill. And a subtle +force attracted her thereto, and held her sleepless and +despairing the whole night long. She had been forced to +sit there watching the tragedy being enacted. A tragedy +with which she knew she was connected, and for which, +in her exaggerated self-condemnation, she believed herself +responsible.</p> + +<p>The agony of that prolonged vigil would never be forgotten. +Fascinated, dreading, every act of it seared the +girl's soul as with a red hot brand. It was the Skandinavia's +work. The agents of the Skandinavia. And she +knew that she, perhaps, was their principal agent. The +rattle of machine guns. The human slaughter. She had +witnessed the terror of it all in the fierce light of the +conflagration which looked to be devouring the whole +world of the mills. She could never forget it. She could +never forgive herself her share in the ghastly plans for that +hideous destruction. But more than all she knew she +could never forgive, or again associate herself with those +who had designed the inhuman work of it all and plunged +her into the maelstrom of its execution.</p> + +<p>Now, in the daylight, she was still at the window. +There was no relief. On the contrary. With the smoke +cleared from the smouldering ruins she saw the full extent + +of the wreckage. It was sprawling everywhere, +human and material. An army of men, it seemed, was +searching the battlefield. It was searching and collecting +amongst the ruins. And she watched the bearing away +on improvised stretchers, of still, helpless, human burdens +which none could mistake. She could bear no more of it. +She shut out the sight and fled from the window, covering +her eyes with her hands.</p> + +<p>But she was recalled almost instantly. The sound of +men's rough voices startled her. Whence came the sound +she could not judge. But it seemed to her it was from +somewhere outside. So she stealthily peered out. It was +a small group of fur-clad figures. They were approaching +the house over the snowy trail that came up from the +mill.</p> + +<p>New terror leapt. They were supporting a prone, +human body! They were bringing it up to the house! +Who—who could they be bringing up to that house, which +was the home and the office of the master of the mill? +In that supreme moment all that which had gone before +was completely forgotten. She stood clutching at the +window casing, in a desperate effort to steady herself.</p> + +<p>She knew. Oh, yes, it could be no other. It must be +Bull Sternford they were bringing up. Bull Sternford—the +man who—The agents of the Skandinavia had +done him to death! The agents of the Skandinavia!</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bat Harker was standing at the window of the office +on the hill. His hard, grey eyes were searching the distance +below, and his square jaws were busy on their usual +occupation. Bull was sitting in a rocker-chair. He was +leaning forward, gazing down at the thickly carpeted +floor, and his hands were clasped between his outspread +knees. Both men were dishevelled. Their clothing was +stained, and their hands and faces were begrimed as a +result of the fierce work of the night.</p> + + +<p>Bat suddenly turned from his silent scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"He'll pull around? You think so?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>There was an appeal in his harsh voice such as Bull +had never heard in it before, and he looked up with a +start.</p> + +<p>"That's how Jason reckoned," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, to hell with Jason!" Bat's retort was fiercely +uncompromising. "Who's Jason anyway? A medical +student who hadn't the guts for his job. Leastways he +got on the crook. It's the thing you reckon I want to +know."</p> + +<p>"I reckon he'll pull around," Bull returned quietly. +Then he stirred wearily. "But you're hard on young +Jason, Bat. He's bright enough. I like the way he +handles his job. And anyway he's the only feller around +this layout with any knowledge of a sick man. He's +qualified you know. He wasn't just a student. He practised +before he went down and out and took to the +forests. We've got to rely on him till we get a man up +from Montreal, which won't be for weeks. He'll be +through along from fixing him in a while. Then we can +hear the thing he's got to say. Maybe we'll be able to +judge better then."</p> + +<p>"I wired Montreal," Bat said sharply.</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>The lumberman turned again to his window, and Bull +continued to regard the carpet which had no interest for +him. Both were weary, utterly weary in body as well as +mind.</p> + +<p>It was full, broad daylight now, with the low, northern +sun gleaming athwart the scene which these men had +so recently left. They were conscious of the victory +gained. They rejoiced in the complete defeat of an +enemy who had come so near to defeating all their plans. +But the cost appalled them. They had both faced the play +of machine guns. They had seen their men fall to the + +scythe-like mowing of a cruel weapon of which its victims +had no understanding. Then, when the machine guns had +been silenced, they had witnessed the rage with which these +hard-living jacks had meted out their ideas of just +punishment upon the murderers of their comrades.</p> + +<p>The wanton inhumanity of the whole thing had sickened +them both. Both knew and were indifferent to the roughness +of the fierce northland. But the ordeal through which +they had passed was something far beyond the darkest +vision of conflict they had ever contemplated.</p> + +<p>Neither had been present to witness the shooting of +Father Adam. But both had been there within minutes +of the beginning of the battle which it had started. From +the power house Bat had discovered the thing happening, +just as Bull had seen from the window of his office the +leaping flames which had threatened the mill. It had been +largely due to their timely leadership that ultimate victory +had been snatched. But the work of it had been terrible.</p> + +<p>Now they had returned to their quarters, their night's +work completed. Down below comrade was attending to +comrade in such fashion as lay to hand, and those beyond +earthly aid were being disposed to their last rest. +Thus these men had been left free to succour the wounded +creature whose timely lead had made possible the defeat +that had been inflicted.</p> + +<p>Bat had but one concern just now. Father Adam. +The man whose secret he held. The man who counted +for everything in his rugged life. He raised his blood-shot +eyes to his companion's face.</p> + +<p>"If—Father Adam—passes, I'm done with Sachigo, +Bull," he declared almost desperately. "It 'ud break me +to death. You can't know the thing that feller means to +me. You know him for the sort of missioner all these +folks guess he is. That's how he'd have you know him. +And it goes with me all the time. But I know him just as +he is."</p> + + +<p>Bull nodded. He made no reply. He knew the lumberman +was well-nigh beside himself, and he gazed back into +the hot eyes and wondered.</p> + +<p>But Bat had nothing more to say. He even felt he +had said more than he had any right to say. So he +turned again to the window.</p> + +<p>A few moments later the door communicating with +the house was unceremoniously thrust open. The two +men looked round. It was a youngish man dressed in the +overalls of an engineer who hurried in. He was alert +and full of business; a condition which he seemed to +appreciate.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, boss," he cried cheerfully, addressing +himself to Bat. "Guess the good Father'll get away with +it. He's out of his dope an' smiling plenty. I jerked +that darn plug that holed him right out, an' it's a soft-nosed +swine. I left it back there for you to see. The +feller who dropped him deserves rat poison. I hope to +God they got him. Anyway I got the wound cleaned up +and fixed things. Now we just got to keep it clean and +open, and watch his temperature. Then we don't need to +worry a thing. I'll do that. But someone'll have to sit +around and nurse him. I'll have to get along down. +There's nigh a hundred needin' me. Gee I An' after all +these years, too. It makes me wonder."</p> + +<p>There was a smile of keen appreciation in the eyes +that looked into those of the lumberman. And the look +deepened when Bat thrust out a large and dirty hand +at him.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, boy," he said, in obvious relief. "I'm goin' +to nurse that pore feller. Maybe I ain't much in that +line. But I'll promise he don't lack a thing I can hand +him. Here, shake. You'll be along to fix him again?"</p> + +<p>"Right on time," was the quick rejoinder.</p> + +<p>Jason had readily enough gripped the outstretched +hand. Then he hurried away. And neither of the men + +begrudged him the obvious vanity which his momentary +importance had inflamed.</p> + +<p>With the man's going Bull passed a hand back over +his ample hair.</p> + +<p>"God!" he exclaimed wearily. "It's been a tough +night."</p> + +<p>"Tough?"</p> + +<p>Bat's response spoke a whole world of feeling. He +moved from his window and flung himself into a chair.</p> + +<p>"He saved us," he went on. "Father Adam. He +saved the whole of our darn outfit. How he did it I don't +just know. Maybe I'll never know. He don't talk a lot. +I gathered something of it from the boys. But there +wasn't time for talk." He shook his grizzled head. "You +see, I didn't even know he was around. And you never +told me it was him brought you word from the camps. +He must have been at work around from the start. He +must have got hold of a bunch of the boys he knew. And +when he got 'em right, why—Say, I'd have given a +thousand dollars to have heard him fire his dope at that +lousy gang. It must have been pretty. But they got +him. And I guess that was the craziest thing they did. +The fool man who could shoot up Father Adam in face +of the forest-boys could only be fit for the bughouse."</p> + +<p>He sighed. It was not for the man's madness in +shooting, but for the hurt inflicted. Then a grim, vengeful +smile lit his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, I guess there ain't a single agent of the Skandinavia +down there left with a puff of wind in his rotten +carcase. The boys were plumb crazed for their blood +an' got right up to their necks in it. I'm glad. I'm—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, forget it, man." Bull spoke sharply. "There's +things we can take a joy in remembering. But this isn't +one of 'em. No. The thing for us now is work. Plenty +of work. The mill needs to be in full work inside a +week. We haven't an hour to lose, with young Birchall + +coming along over. Skert's promised us power in twenty-four +hours. He's at it right now. The camps on the +river'll be working full, and making up lost time. The +rest's up to us right here. But—but," he added, passing +a hand nervously across his forehead, "I've got to get +sleep or I'll go stark crazy."</p> + +<p>Bat eyed the younger man seriously. It was the first +time he had realised his condition. His sympathy found +the rough expression of a nod.</p> + +<p>"You had a hell of a time up there," he said.</p> + +<p>Bull laughed. There was no mirth in his laugh.</p> + +<p>"It was tough all right. I wonder if you'd guess how +tough." He shook his head. "No. You wouldn't. You +reckon Father Adam's a pretty good man, but I tell you +right here you don't know how good, or the thing he did +for us single-handed. I know—now. He set me wise +to it all, and didn't leave me a thing to do but make the +trail he'd set for me. It was an easy play dealing with the +fool forest-jacks who'd swallowed the Skandinavia's dope. +Yes. That was easy," he added thoughtfully. "But that +was just the start of the game. Father Adam had located +the trail of the outfit the Skandinavia had sent and it was +my job to come right up with 'em and silence 'em."</p> + +<p>He broke off and sat staring straight in front of him. +His fine eyes were half smiling for all the weariness he +complained of. He yawned.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hit that trail," he went on presently. "I hit +it, and hung to it like a she-wolf out for offal. I just +never quit. It was that way I forgot sleep. It wasn't +till between No. 10 and 11 Camps we got sight. We were +out in the open, up on the high land. We'd a run of fifty +mile ahead of the dogs. When we got sight that boy +Gouter was after 'em like a red-hot devil. Drive? Gee, +how he drove!"</p> + +<p>Again came the man's mirthless laugh.</p> + +<p>"There's things in life seem mighty queer at times. + +It was that way then. There was a man I wanted to kill +once bad. Guess I've never quit wanting to kill him, +though I'm glad Father Adam saved me from doing it. +He was Laval—Arden Laval, one of the Skandinavia's +camp-bosses. Well, I saw him killed on that trip, and I +helped bury him in the snow. Gouter drew on him on the +dead run at fifty yards. He dropped him cold, and +wrecked the outfit the feller was driving. There were two +in the bunch that the Skandinavia sent there to raise +trouble for us. Laval and another. Laval's dead, and +the other we brought right along as prisoner. That +other's here in this—"</p> + +<p>A light knock interrupted the story. Bull turned with +a start. Then he sprang to his feet, every sign of weariness +gone. He stood for a moment as though in doubt. +And the lumberman, watching him, remarked the complete +transformation that had taken place. He was smiling. +His straining eyes had softened to a tenderness the onlooker +failed to understand.</p> + +<p>He moved swiftly across the room and flung open +the door.</p> + +<p>"Will you come right in?"</p> + +<p>The lumberman heard the invitation. The tone was +deep with a gentleness he had never before discovered in +it. And in his wonder he craned to see who it was who +had inspired it.</p> + +<p>Bull moved aside.</p> + +<p>It was then that Bat started up from his chair, and a +sharp ejaculation broke from him. Nancy McDonald +was standing framed in the doorway.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_32"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXIII—Nancy</h3> + + +<p>Bat was hurrying down the woodland trail. For once +in his hard life he knew the meaning of rank cowardice. + +The sight of Nancy McDonald had completely robbed +him of the last vestige of courage. The atmosphere of +the office, that room so crowded with absorbing memories +for him, had suddenly seemed to threaten suffocation. +He felt he must get out. He must seek the cold, crisp +air of the world he knew and understood. So he had fled.</p> + +<p>Now he was alone with a riot of thought that was +almost chaotic. There was only one thing that stood +out clearly, definitely, in his mind. It was the Nemesis +of the thing that had happened. It was Nemesis with +a vengeance.</p> + +<p>His busy jaws worked furiously under his emotion. He +spat, and spat again, into the soft white snow. Once +he stopped abruptly and gazed back over the circuitous +trail. It was as though he must look again upon the +thing that had so deeply stirred him, as though he must +look upon it to reassure himself that he was not dreaming. +That the thing had driven him headlong was real, +and not some troublesome hallucination.</p> + +<p>Nancy McDonald! The beautiful stepdaughter of +Leslie Standing, with her red hair and pretty eyes, was +the agent of the Skandinavia, paid to wreck the great +work he and Leslie had set up. She was paid to achieve +the destruction at—any cost.</p> + +<p>It was amazing. It was overwhelming. It was even—terrible.</p> + +<p>He pursued his way with hurried steps. And as he +went his mind leapt back to the time when he had made +his great appeal for the poor, deserted child shut up in +the coldly correct halls of Marypoint College. What an +irony it all seemed now. Then he remembered her first +coming to Sachigo, and the mystery of the letter from +Father Adam heralding her arrival. He had understood +the moment Nancy had announced her name to him on the +quay. He had understood the thought, the hope which +had inspired the letter.</p> + + +<p>In his rugged heart he had welcomed the letter which +Father Adam had written. He had welcomed the girl's +first coming to the place he felt should be her inheritance. +He had seen in those things the promise of the belated +justice for which years ago he had appealed. Father +Adam had asked Bull to receive her well. Why? There +was only one answer to that in the lumberman's mind. +Father Adam had seen her. He understood her beauty, +and had fallen for it. What more reasonable then that +Bull should do the same.</p> + +<p>But that was all past and done with now. All the +things he had dreamed of, and so ardently desired, had +been lost through a mischievous Fate. The neglected stepdaughter +of Leslie Standing was body and soul part of +their enemy's armament of offence. It was all too crazy. +It was all too devilish for calm contemplation.</p> + +<p>The sight of the girl's pathetic eyes, so weary, so +troubled, had been sufficient. Bat could not have remained +in that room another minute. No. Down at the +mill were the things he understood. They were the things +he was bred to, and could deal with. These others were +something that left him hopeless and helpless. So he +went, determined to lay the ghost of the thing behind him +in the tremendous effort the necessities of the mill demanded +he should put forth.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Bull's emotions were deeply stirred. He gazed into +the tired eyes of the girl, so beautiful for all their complete +dejection. He marked the cold pallor of her cheeks, +and realised the dishevelled condition of her glorious +masses of hair. An intense pity left him gravely troubled.</p> + +<p>As Nancy stood gazing up at the man, complete hopelessness +oppressed her. She remembered well enough +the declaration of war between them. She remembered, +too, that it had meant nothing personal when it was made. +At the time she had had no inkling of the terrible thing it + +could mean, or how nearly it could bring them into real, +personal conflict.</p> + +<p>She had been wholly unprepared for the demand that +had been thrust upon her by the man, Peterman. It had +frightened her at first. She had shrunk from it. Then, +finally, she had accepted it as her duty, under pressure. +Peterman had made it appear so trifling. A journey, a +trying journey, perhaps, but one to be made with all the +comfort he could provide. And then to preach to those +ignorant forest-men the disaster towards which their +employers were heading. As Peterman had put it, it had +almost seemed a legitimate thing to do. Convinced as +she had been of the disaster about to fall on Sachigo, it +had seemed as if she were even doing them a service.</p> + +<p>Had she been able to search Peterman's mind she would +never have taken part in the dastardly thing he had +planned. Had she been able to read him she would have +quickly discovered the real motive he had in sending her. +She would have discovered the furious jealousy and +wounded vanity which meant her to be a prime instrument +in the wrecking of Bull Sternford and his mills. She +would have realised the devilish ingenuity with which he +intended to wreck her friendship with another man so that +he might the more truly claim her for himself. But she +had no suspicion, and had blindly yielded herself to the +duty she believed to be hers.</p> + +<p>After Bat's hurried departure Bull cast about in his +mind for the thing to say to her. And somehow, without +realising it, the right words sprang to his lips.</p> + +<p>"We won!" he said. And the smile accompanying +his words was one of gentle raillery, and suggested nothing +of the real tragedy of the thing that had happened.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes widened. She strove to understand the +dreadful lightness with which Bull spoke. Victory? +Defeat? At that moment they were the two things +furthest from her mind.</p> + + +<p>Bull drew forward a chair, and gently insisted. And +Nancy, accepting it, realised in a dull sort of way that +it was the chair she had occupied at the time of her first +visit, which now seemed so far, far back in her memory. +Bull sat again in his rocker. He leant forward.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he went on, "we've won out. Your Skandinavia's +beaten. Beaten a mile. We've won, too, at less +cost than I hoped. Does it grieve you?"</p> + +<p>There was no softness or yielding in his tone. It was +as he intended; the tone of a man who cares only that +victory has been won. Nancy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm glad," she said desperately.</p> + +<p>"Glad?" Bull was startled.</p> + +<p>The girl made a little involuntary movement. She +averted her gaze to the window through which the wintry +sunlight was pouring.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you understand? Can't you? Is the victory +so much to you that you have no thought, no feeling, for +the suffering it has brought? Are you so hard set on your +purpose of achievement that nothing else matters? Oh, +it's all dreadful. I used to feel that way. I counted no cost. +Achievement? It was everything to me. And now, now +that I know the thing it means I feel I—I want to die."</p> + +<p>Bull took a strong hold upon himself.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said slowly. "You see, Nancy, you're +just a woman. You're just as tender and gentle—and—womanly, +as God made you to be. He gave you a beautiful +woman's heart, and a courage that was quite wonderful +till it came into conflict with your heart. You had no +right to be flung into this thing. And only a man of +Peterman's lack of scruple could have done such a thing. +Well, I'm not going to preach a long sermon, but I want +to tell you some of the things I've got in my mind before +I get the sleep I need. God knows that none of this thing +you're blaming yourself for lies at your door. It would +all have happened without you. Peterman designed it, + +and put it through for all he was worth. Now I want to +say I'm glad—glad of it all. I've no pity for the Bolshevic +dregs of Europe he employed. They were out for loot, +they were out to grab the things and the power that other +folks set up. Any old death that hit them they amply +deserved. As for our folk who've gone under—well, we +mustn't think too deeply that way. We all took our +chances, and some had to go. I was ready to go. So was +Bat. So were we all. We wanted victory, and we +wanted it for those who survived. We honour our dead, +but our lives must not be clouded by their going. It's +war—human war. And just as long as the world lasts +that war will always be. Good and bad men will die, and +good and bad women will suffer at the sight. But for +God's sake have done with the notion that you—you have +anything to take to yourself, except that you've fought a +good fight, and—lost. It sounds like the devil talking, +doesn't it? Maybe you'll think me a monster of heartlessness. +I'm not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I could feel all that," Nancy exclaimed +with an impulse which a few moments before must have +been impossible.</p> + +<p>"You can." Bull nodded. "You will."</p> + +<p>"You think so?" Nancy sighed. "I wish I could." +Suddenly she spread out her hands in a little pathetic +gesture. "Oh, it all seems wrong. Everything. What +am I to do? What can I do? I—I can't even think. +Whichever way I look it all seems so black and hopeless. +You think I can—will?"</p> + +<p>Bull's sympathy would no longer be denied. He rose +from his chair and moved to the window. His face +was hidden from the troubled eyes that watched him. +But his voice came back infinite in its gentleness.</p> + +<p>"You want to do something," he said. "You want to +give expression to the woman in you. And when that +has happened it'll make you feel—better. I know."</p> + + +<p>He nodded. Suddenly he turned back to her, and stood +smiling down into her anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he went on, "what is it you want to do? +You're no prisoner now. The war's finished. You're +just as free as air to come and go as you please. You +can return to Quebec the moment you desire, and the <em>Myra</em> +comes along up. And everything I can possibly arrange +shall be done for your happiness and comfort. When +would you like to go?"</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of that."</p> + +<p>"I knew that," Bull smiled.</p> + +<p>"Father Adam. He's in the house there sick and +wounded," Nancy hurried on. "I know him. I—may I +nurse him back to health and strength. May I try that +way to teach myself I'm not the thing I think and feel. +Oh, let me be of use. Let me help to undo the thing I've +done so much to bring about."</p> + +<p>The girl's hands were thrust out, and her eyes were +shining. Never in his life had Bull experienced such an +appeal. Never in his life had he been so near to reckless +disregard for all restraint. He came nearer to her.</p> + +<p>"Surely you may do that," he said. "And I just want +to thank you from the bottom of my unfeeling heart for +the thought that prompts you. We haven't a soul here +to do it right—to do it as you can. And Father Adam is +a mighty precious life to us all—in Sachigo."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_33"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXIV—The Coming Of Spring</h3> + + +<p>It had been a hard day. Bull Sternford had spent it +dealing with complicated financial schedules, an amazing, +turbulent sea of figures, until his powers and patience +had temporarily exhausted themselves.</p> + + +<p>In a final fit of irritation he had flung his work aside, +and risen from his desk. The insufferable heat of the +room, and the reek of his own pipe disgusted him. So +he had moved over to the window where the cold air of +early spring drifted in through the open ventilating slot +in the storm sash.</p> + +<p>His gaze was on the Cove below, where the snow-laden +ice was discoloured by the moist slush of thaw, and +the open waters, far down towards the distant headlands, +had so deeply encroached upon the claims of winter.</p> + +<p>A great, premature thaw had set in. It was the real +spring thaw a month or more early. Skert Lawton, who +controlled the water power of the mill, had warned him +of its coming. Bat too had spoken out of his years of +experience of the moods of Labrador's seasons. But +somehow the sight of it all gave him none of the joy with +which it had inspired the others.</p> + +<p>The evil night of threatened disaster had become only +a memory. Nearly six weeks had passed since Nancy +McDonald had craved the privilege of caring for the man +who had so nearly given his life in the saving of the mill +and all the great purpose it represented. Now he was +mercifully returned to health and strength under the devoted +care that had been bestowed upon him. The mill +was again in full work. And the human army it employed +had returned to their peace-time labours in the full determination +to undo the grievous hurt which the mischief of +the Skandinavia's agents and their own folly had inflicted. +In the relief of reaction, they, no less than their employers, +had redoubled their efforts.</p> + +<p>All outward sign of the trouble through which the +mill had passed had long since been cleared away under +the driving power of the forceful Bat Harker. The scars +of fire remained here and there. But they were no more +than a reminder for those who were ready to forget the +folly they had once committed.</p> + + +<p>Everything was moving on now as Bull and his comrades +would have had it. Only that morning word had +come through that Ray Birchall was on his way from +London for the purpose of his report, and expected to +reach Sachigo in three weeks' time. Could anything, +then, be better than this early thaw? It was a veritable +act of Providence that the London man's inspection of +the mills, and all the property involved would take place +under the most active conditions.</p> + +<p>It should have been a time of rejoicing and mental +ease. It should have been a time of stirring hope. A +moment for complaisant contemplation of a great purpose +achieved. But the man at the window regarded the +thing he looked upon without any display of pleasurable +feeling. The sight of it literally seemed to deepen the +unease which looked out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>In the midst of Bull's pre-occupation the door from +the outer office was thrust open, and Bat Harker's harsh +voice jarred the silence of the room.</p> + +<p>"Gettin' a peek at things," he cried, stumping heavily +across the thick carpet. "Well, it looks good to me, too. +Say, if this lasts just one week we'll be as clear of snow +as hell's sidewalks." Then he flung open his rough pea-jacket +and pushed his cap back from his lined forehead. +"Gee, it's hot!"</p> + +<p>The lumberman was standing at Bull's side, and his +deep-set eyes were following the other's gaze with twinkling +satisfaction. Bull nodded and moved away.</p> + +<p>"Yep," he ejaculated. "It should be good for us."</p> + +<p>He passed over to the radiators and shut them off. +Then he went over to the wood-stove and closed down the +dampers. Then, with a curious absent-mindedness, he +stood up and held out his hands to the warmth radiating +from the stove.</p> + +<p>Bat was watching him interestedly. And at sight of + +his final attitude he broke into one of his infrequent +chuckles and flung himself into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Say, what in—? Feeling cold?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Bull's hands were promptly withdrawn, and, in spite +of his mood, a half smile at his own expense lit his troubled +eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he said. "It's on me, sure. I +guess my head must be full of those figures still."</p> + +<p>He returned to the window and stood with his back +to his companion. Bat watched him for some moments.</p> + +<p>Bull had changed considerably in the last few weeks. +The lumberman had been swift to observe it. Somehow +the old enthusiasm had faded out. The keen fighting +nature he had become accustomed to, with its tendency to +swift, almost reckless action, had become less marked. +The man was altogether less buoyant.</p> + +<p>At first it had seemed to Bat's searching mind as if +the effects of that desperate trip through the forests, +and the subsequent battle down at the mill, had left its +mark upon him, had somehow wrought one of those +curious, weakening changes in the spirit of the man +which seemed so unaccountable. Later, however, he dismissed +the idea for a shrewder and better understanding.</p> + +<p>He helped himself to a chew of tobacco and kicked a +cuspidore within his reach.</p> + +<p>"The fire-bugs are out," he said. "The last of 'em. +I jest got word through. It's the seventh. An' it's the +tally."</p> + +<p>It was a sharp, matter-of-fact statement. He was +telling of a human killing, and there was no softening.</p> + +<p>Bull nodded. He glanced over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"They shot five of 'em to death. The last two they +hanged." A grim set of the jaws, as Bat made the +announcement, was his only expression of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Makes you wonder," he went on, after a pause. + +"Makes you think of the days when locomotives didn't +run. Makes you think of the days when life was just a +pretty mean gamble with most of the odds dead against +you. It don't sound like these Sunday School days +when the world sits around, framed in a fancy-coloured +halo, that couldn't stand for any wash-tub, talkin' brotherhood +an' human sympathy. It's tough when you think +of the bunch that sent those boys to fire our limits. They +knew the full crime of it, and knew the thing it would +mean if we got hands on 'em. Well, there it is. We +got 'em. An' now ther' ain't a mother's son of 'em left +alive to tell the yarn of it all. It's been just cold, bloody +murder. An' the murder ain't on us. No, I guess the darn +savage eatin' hashed missioner ain't as bad a proposition +as the civilised guys who paid the price to get those +toughs killed up in our forests. I can't feel no sort of +regret. It won't hand me a half-hour nightmare. But +it makes me wonder. It surely does."</p> + +<p>He spat accurately into the cuspidore.</p> + +<p>"Does the report hand you anything else?" Bull asked, +without turning. The other noticed the complete lack +of real interest. He shrugged.</p> + +<p>"The camps are all in full cut. They're not a cord +behind."</p> + +<p>Bat looked for a word, the lighting of an eye. There +was none. And he stirred in his chair, and exasperation +drove him.</p> + +<p>"Don't it make you feel good?" he demanded sharply. +"It's the last guess answered, unless there's a guess when +that boy, Birchall, comes along. Anyway, you don't figger +ther's much guess to that, with the mill runnin' full, an' + +every boom crashed full of logs. No. Here, Bull!" +he cried, with sudden vehemence. "Turn around, man. +Turn right around an' get a grip on it all. The game's +won to the last detail. Can't you feel good? Can't you +feel like a feller gettin' out into the light after years of + +the darkest hell? Don't it make you want to holler? +Ain't there a thing I can say to boost you? The boys +down at the mill are hoggin' work. The groundwood's +on the quays like mountains. The mills are roaring like +blast furnaces. Can you beat it? Spring. The flies an' +skitters, an' shipping. Why, in a week I guess Father +Adam'll be hittin the trail for the forests, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Nancy McDonald will be sailing for Quebec."</p> + +<p>Bat was no longer gazing on the other's broad back +and the mane of hair which did its best to conceal his +massive neck. Bull had turned. His strong face was +flushed. His fine eyes were hot. There could be no mistaking +the passionate emotion which the other had stirred.</p> + +<p>The two men gazed into each other's eyes. Then with +a curiously expressive gesture of his great hands Bull +turned to the chair standing near, and flung himself into it.</p> + +<p>The lumberman's eyes twinkled. He had done the +thing he desired. "An' you don't want her to?" he said +deliberately.</p> + +<p>Just for a moment it looked as though a headlong +outburst was about to reply to him. Then, quite suddenly, +the hot light in Bull's eyes died out and he smiled. +He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said in simple denial. "If she goes it means +the end of Sachigo for me."</p> + +<p>"You reckon you'll quit?"</p> + +<p>In a moment the lumberman remembered a scene which +had been enacted years ago on the high ground on the +north shore of the Cove. He would never forget it. It +had been the final decision of another to quit Sachigo. +And the reason had been not dissimilar.</p> + +<p>There was no reply. Bull sat staring blankly in front +of him. His eyes were on the wintry sky which was still +broad with the light of day beyond the window.</p> + +<p>Presently his gaze lost its abstraction and came again +to the strong, lined face of the older man.</p> + + +<p>"Yes, Bat," he said calmly, almost coldly, "I'd have +to quit. I just couldn't stand for it. Nancy's got right +into my life. She's the only thing I can see—now."</p> + +<p>"Fer all she's a kind of prisoner right here, caught +red-hand doin' the damnedest she knows to break us in +favour of the outfit that pays her?"</p> + +<p>Bat smiled as he flung his challenge. But his tone, +his words, were no indication of his mood, or of the rapid +thought passing behind his shrewd eyes. A great sense +of pleasure was asurge within him. He wanted to tell +of it. He wanted to reach out and grip the other's hand, +and tell him all that his words meant to him. But he +refrained. Another man's secret was involved, and that +was sufficient. His lips were sealed.</p> + +<p>Bull stirred restlessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, psha!" he cried at last, with a force that displayed +the tremendous feeling he could no longer deny. +"I know what you think, Bat. I'm crazy. Well, maybe +I am. Most men get crazy one time in their lives when +a woman gets around. It's no use. I just can't help it. +I know all you're thinking. Nancy McDonald belongs to +our enemies. As you say she's done her damnedest to +break us. Maybe you reckon I ought to feel for her like +the devil does about holy water. Well, I don't. I'm +plumb crazy for her, and when spring clears up the waters +of the Cove, and the <em>Myra</em> comes alongside, she's going +right aboard, and will pass out of Labrador and out of +my life. I'm never going to get another sight of her. +I'm never going to get another sound of her dandy voice, +or a sight of her pretty eyes, and—Hell! What's the use. +Oh, I know it all. You've no need to tell me. We've +made good. We've fought and won out. My contract's +complete, and everything's looking just as good for us +as it knows how—now. This mill. It's ours. Yours, and +mine, and that other's, who I don't know about. All I've +to do is to sit around with the plums lying in my lap. + +Well, I don't want those plums without Nancy. That's +all. I don't want a thing—without Nancy. All the dollars +in America can burn in hell for all I care, and as for +groundwood pulp it's a damp mess of fool stuff that +don't signify to me if it finds its way to the bottom of the +North Atlantic. An added month of open season? What +does it mean to me? Work. Only work, and flies, and +skitters. An added month of 'em. Father Adam's a +whole man again now, thanks to that dandy child. He'll +pull right out to the forests again, and—she'll pull out +too. I—"</p> + +<p>"That's all right," Bat broke in drily. "I get all that. +But why not marry the gal? Marry her an' quit all this +darn argument. I guess this mill's goin' to hand you all +you need to keep a wife on. That seems to me the +natural answer to the stuff that's worryin' you."</p> + +<p>His eyes twinkled as he regarded the other's troubled +face.</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>Bull was on his feet. Hot, desperate irritation lay behind +the retort which Bat's gentle sarcasm had drawn +forth. His eyes were alight, and he passed an unsteady +hand across his forehead in a superlatively impatient +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Marry her?" he exploded. "Say, are you every sort +of darn fool on God's earth, man? How can I hope to +marry her? What sort of use can a girl like that have for +the man who's beat her right out of everything she ever +hoped to achieve? I've had to treat her like any old +criminal, and hold her prisoner. I've brought her right +down here leaving her in a man's household without +another woman in sight. Say, these cursed mills have +made it so I've had to commit every sort of rotten act a +man can commit against a high-spirited girl. And you ask +me why I don't marry her? You've been too long in the +forests, Bat. Guess you've lost your perspective. Nancy + +McDonald's no sort of chattel to be dealt with any way we +fancy. Get sense, man, an' talk it."</p> + +<p>Bat's regard was unwavering before the other's angry +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sense is a hell of a good thing to have an' talk," he +said quietly. "I most generally notice the feller yearnin' +for someone else to get it an' talk that way, mostly has +least use for the thing he's preachin'. Maybe Nancy +feels the way you reckon. But that don't seem to me +to worry a deal. Still, maybe things have changed around +since the days when I hadn't sense to keep out of gunshot +of a pair of dandy eyes. And anyway I don't seem to +remember the boys bein' worried with the sort of argument +you're handing out. If my memory's as good as I +reckon, the boys most gener'ly married the gal first, an' + +got busy wonderin' about things after. All of which +seems like so much hoss sense, seem' the natur' of things +is that most gals needs their minds made up for 'em. You +see, Bull, I kind o' fancy womenfolk ain't just ord'nary. +They got a bug that makes 'em think queer wher' men are +concerned. Now Nancy's all sorts of a gal, an' that bein' + +so I don't reckon she sees the hell-fire crimes you've committed +against her just the way you see 'em. I allow +they're pretty darn tough. Shootin' up her outfit an' +dumpin' her into a snowdrift up on Labrador's mighty +hard sort of courtin'. Grabbin' her up an' settin' her +hospital nurse to her enemies, in a house full of a bunch +of tough men don't seem the surest way to make her smile +on the feller that did it. Then most generally beatin' the +game she set out to play looks like makin' fer trouble +plenty. It sure seems that way. But you never can tell +with a woman, Bull. You just can't."</p> + +<p>Bat shook his grizzled head in solemn denial, but his +eyes were laughing. Bull smothered his resentment. He, +too, shook his head, and somehow caught the infection +of the other's smile.</p> + + +<p>"But she's ambitious," he said. "And she isn't the +sort of girl to take that easily. No."</p> + +<p>Bat nodded and rose from his chair. Something of +his purpose had been achieved and he was satisfied. He +felt he had said all that was needed for the moment. So +he prepared to take his departure.</p> + +<p>"Maybe that's so, boy," he agreed readily. "But ambition's +a thing that changes with most every wind. That +don't worry me a thing. Say, you've sort of opened out +about this thing to me, an' I ain't sure why. But I kind +of feel good about it. You're younger than me by years +I don't fancy reckonin'. I feel like I was an elder brother, +an' I'm glad. Well, that bein' so, I'd like to say right here +ther's just one ambition in a woman's life that counts. +And she mostly gits it when she hits up against the feller +that's got the guts to make her think his way. When that +happens I guess you can roll up every other old schedule, +an' pass it into the beater to make new paper. It's the only +use for it. See? But I 'low I don't know women like I +do groundwood, which was the stuff that fetched me here +right now. You see, I was feelin' good about things, an' + +I fancied handin' you the news of them 'fire-bugs' myself. +Guess it hasn't handed you any sort of delirium so far, +Bull, but it will later. I allow ther' ain't room for two +fevers at the same time in a man's body. When you've +set Nancy McDonald figgerin' your way, your temperature's +liable to go up on the other. So long, boy."</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_34"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXV—Nancy's Decision</h3> + + +<p>With the lengthening days the world of Labrador was +already donning its brief, annual smile. But the passing +of winter was no easy thing. There had been rain and +"freeze-up," and rain again. And the whole countryside + +was a dripping, melting sea of wintry slush. The +sun was rising higher in the steely heavens with each +passing day, but winter was still reluctant. It passed on +to its dissolution only under irresistible pressure.</p> + +<p>Nancy, no less than Father Adam and those others, to +whom the early thaw meant so much, watched the passing +of winter with the closest interest. But her interest owed +its origin to a far different inspiration. She knew it +meant that her time at Sachigo was nearing its end, and +the future with all its barrenness was staring at her.</p> + +<p>She moved restlessly about the large kitchen while +the Chinaman, Won-Li, was preparing toast over the +cook stove. She stood awhile at the window and watched +the winging of a seemingly endless flight of early geese +passing up from the South. Then she turned away and +glanced about the scrupulously clean and neat apartment. +It was so very different from the place she had first +discovered weeks ago.</p> + +<p>After awhile she took up her position against the kitchen +table, and stood there with her gaze upon the bent figure +of the cook in its long, blue blouse. But she was scarcely +interested in the man's labours. She was not even waiting +for him to complete them. She was just thinking, +filled with apprehension and without confidence. Her +mind was made up to a definite purpose whose seeming +immensity left her staggered.</p> + +<p>Nancy was no longer the distraught creature who had +witnessed the terrible night of fire and battle down at +the mill. Many weeks had passed since then. Weeks +full of mental, bodily, and spiritual effort. From the +first dark moments when she had begged the privilege +of nursing the wounded missionary, broken in spirit, a +beautiful creature well-nigh demented with the horror of +the thing she believed herself to be, the woman soul of her +had found a measure of peace.</p> + +<p>It had been slow in coming. There had been moments + +when she had nearly broken under the burden of conscience. +There had been moments when the weight of +unutterable depression, and the sense of guilt, had come +near to robbing her of her last shred of mental balance. +But the woman's mission of nursing had saved her in the +end. That, and the physical effort to which she had +applied herself.</p> + +<p>It was all so single-minded and simple. It was all so +beautifully pathetic. Nancy had found a careless household +rapidly decaying through mannish indifference to +comfort. She understood. These men were completely +absorbed in the service of the great mills, and nothing +else mattered to them. Oh, yes, that was understandable. +She knew the feeling. She knew how it robbed its victim +of every other consideration in life. So she had flung +herself into the task of re-ordering the household of which +she had been forced to become a part, that she might yield +them comfort in their labours and help herself in her own +effort to obtain peace of mind.</p> + +<p>She had transformed an untidy, uncared-for bachelor +habitation into a wholesome, clean establishment of well-ordered +life. She had lifted a lazy Chinaman into a +reasonable specimen of comparative energy, and saw to +it that meals were well and carefully served, and partaken +of at regular hours by men who quickly discovered the +futility of protest.</p> + +<p>But her work by no means ended there. From one +end to the other the house was swept and garnished, and +the neglect of years disposed of. Bedrooms were transformed +from mere sleeping places to luxury. Linen was +duly laundered, and clothing was brushed, and folded, and +mended in a fashion such as its owners had never thought +possible. She was utterly untiring in her labours, and +in the process of them she steadily moved on towards the +thing she craved for herself.</p> + +<p>The men realised the tremendous effort of it all. And + +Bull Sternford, for all his absorption in his work, had +watched with troubled feelings. His love for Nancy had +perhaps robbed him of that vision which should have +told him of the necessity, in her own interests, for that +which the girl was doing. So there were times when +he had protested, times when he felt that simple humanity +demanded that she should not be permitted to submit +herself to so rough a slavery. But Nancy had countered +every protest with an irresistible appeal.</p> + +<p>"Please, please don't stop me," she had cried, almost +tearfully. "It's just all I can do. It's my only hope. +Always, till now, I've lived for myself and ambitions. +You know where they have led me—Ah, no. Let me +go on in my own way. Let me nurse him back to health. +Let me do these things. However little I'm able to do +there's some measure of peace in the doing of it."</p> + +<p>So the days and weeks had dragged on, and now the +time of Nancy's imprisonment was drawing to its inevitable +close. With Spring, and the coming of the +<em>Myra</em>, she would have to accept her freedom and all it +meant. She would be expected to return to her home in +Quebec, and to those who had employed her and sent her +on her godless mission. She understood that. But she +had no intention of returning to Quebec. She had no +intention of returning to the Skandinavia.</p> + +<p>During the long hours of her labours she had searched +deeply for the thing the future must hold for her. It +was the old process over again. That great searching +she had once done at Marypoint. But now it was all +different. There had been no sense of guilt then, and +the only man who had been concerned in her life had +been that unknown stepfather, whom, in her child's +heart, she had learned to hate. It had been simple +enough then. Now—now—</p> + +<p>But she had faced the task with all the splendid, impetuous +courage that was hers. There was no shrinking. + +Her mind was swiftly and irrevocably made up. She +would abandon the Skandinavia for ever. She would +abandon everything and follow those dictates which had +prompted her so often in the past. Father Adam's self-sacrificing +example was always before her. The forests. +Those submerged legions which peopled them. Was there +not some means by which she could join in the work of +rescue? She would talk to Father Adam. She felt he +would help her. She wanted nothing for herself. If only +the rest of her life could be translated into some small +imitation of the life of that good man, then, indeed, she +felt her atonement might be counted as something commensurate.</p> + +<p>It was not until her decision had been taken that she +permitted herself to seek beyond it. But once it was +taken the crushing sense of added desolation well-nigh +paralysed her. Somehow, never before had she understood. +But now—now the sacrifice of it all swept upon +her with an overwhelming rush. Bull Sternford. Bull +Sternford, the man whom with all her power she had +striven to defeat, the man whose strength and force of +character had so appealed to her, the man who must hate +her as any clean-minded man must hate a loathsome reptile, +she would never see him again.</p> + +<p>Oh, she knew now. She made no attempt at denial. +It would have been quite useless. She loved him. From +the moment she had looked into his honest eyes, and +realised his kindly purpose on her behalf at their first +meeting, she had loved him. She must cut him out of +her life. It was the penalty she must pay for her crimes.</p> + +<p>And now the moment had arrived when she must put +her plans into operation. Time was pressing. The season +was advancing. So she had chosen the hour at which she +served tea to Father Adam as the best in which to seek +his advice and support.</p> + + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The light tap on Father Adam's door was answered +instantly. Nancy passed into the room with trepidation +in her heart, but the hand bearing the tea tray was +without a tremor.</p> + +<p>The man whose life belonged to the twilight of the +northern forests was seated in a deep rocker-chair under +the window through which the setting sun was pouring +its pleasant spring light. He had been reading. But +his book was laid aside instantly, and he stood up and +smiled the thanks which his words hastily poured forth.</p> + +<p>"You know, Nancy, you're completely spoiling me," +he said. "I'm going to hate my forest coffee out of a +rusty pannikin. I don't know how I'm going on when I +pull my freight out of here."</p> + +<p>The girl's responsive smile faded abruptly as she set +the tray on the table beside the chair.</p> + +<p>"When are you going to—pull your freight?" she +asked, with a curious, nervous abruptness.</p> + +<p>For a moment the man's eyes were averted. Then he +straightened up his tall, somewhat stooping figure. He +flung his lean shoulders back, and opened his arms wide. +And as he did so he laughed in the pleasant fashion which +Nancy had grown accustomed to.</p> + +<p>He was the picture of complete health. His dark face +was pale. His black hair and sparse beard were untouched +by any sign of the passage of years. There +was not an ounce of superfluous flesh under the curiously +clerical garments he lived in.</p> + +<p>"Why, right away, child," he said, with simple confidence. +"I'll just need to wait for a brief 'freeze-up' +to get through the mud around Sachigo. Once on the +highlands inside there'll be snow and ice for six weeks or +more. I told Sternford this morning I was ready to +pull out. You see, thanks to you I've cheated the folk +who reckoned to silence me. I'm well, and strong, and +the boys of the forest are—needing me. Every day I + +remain now I'll be getting soft under the unfailing kindness +of my nurse."</p> + +<p>Nancy poured out the tea. There were two cups on +the tray and the man was swift to notice it. She smiled +up at him.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down?" she urged. "You see, I've +brought a cup for myself. I—I want to have a long +talk with you. I, too, have got to 'pull my freight.'"</p> + +<p>Father Adam obeyed. His dark eyes were deeply +observant as he surveyed the pretty face with its red +glory of hair. That which was passing in his mind +found no betrayal. But his thought had suddenly leapt, +and he waited.</p> + +<p>Nancy passed him his cup and set the toast within +his reach. Then she pulled up a chair for herself and +sat down before the tea tray.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she went on, "that's why I brought my cup. I +must get away." She smiled a little wistfully. "My +imprisonment is over. Mr. Sternford set me free long +ago, but—well, anyway I'm going now, and that's why +I wanted to talk to you."</p> + +<p>She seemed to find the whole thing an effort. But as +the man's dark eyes remained regarding her, and no +word of his came to help her, she was forced to go on.</p> + +<p>"You know my story," she said. "You've heard +it all from Mr. Sternford. I know that. You told me +so, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>The man inclined his dark head.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I know your story—all of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes." The girl's tea remained untouched. Suddenly +she raised one delicate hand and passed her finger +tips across her forehead. It was a gesture of uncertainty. +Then, quite suddenly, it fell back into her +lap, and, in a moment, her hands were tightly clasped. +"Oh, I best tell you at once. Never, never, never as +long as I live can I go back to the Skandinavia. All the + +years I've been with them I've just been lost in a sort +of dream world of ambition. I haven't seen a thing +outside it. I've just been a blind, selfish woman who +believed in everybody, and most of all in herself and her +selfish aims. Can you understand? Will you? Oh, +now I know all it meant. Now I know the crime of it. +And the horror of the thing I've done, and been, has +well-nigh broken my heart. Oh, I'm not really bad, +indeed I'm not. I didn't know. I didn't understand. +I can never forgive myself. Never, never! And when +I think of the blood that has been shed as the result of +my work—"</p> + +<p>"No." The man's voice broke in sharply. "Put +that right out of your mind, child. None of the blood +shed is your doing. None of it lies at your door. It +lies at the door of others. It lies at the door of two men +only. The man who first set up this great mill at Sachigo, +and the man whose hate of him desired its destruction. +The rest, you, those others, Bull Sternford and Harker, +here, are simply the pawns in the battle which owes +its inception to those things that happened years ago. +I tell you solemnly, child, no living soul but those two, and +chiefly the first of the two, are to blame for the things +that have happened to-day. Set your mind easy. No +one blames you. No one ever will blame you. Not even +the great God to whom we all have to answer. I know +the whole story of it. It is my life to know the story of +these forests. Set your mind at rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I could think so. I wish I could believe. +I feel, I feel you are telling me this to comfort me. But +you wouldn't just do that?"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It's the simple truth," he said. Then he reached +for his tea and drank it quickly. "But tell me. You +will never go back to the Skandinavia? I—am glad. +What will you do?"</p> + + +<p>"That's why I've come to you now."</p> + +<p>The tension had eased. Nancy's distress gave way +before the man's strong words of comfort. She, too, +drank her tea. Then she went on.</p> + +<p>"You know, Father—"</p> + +<p>The man stirred in his chair. It was a movement of +sudden restlessness as if that appellation on her lips +disturbed him.</p> + +<p>"—I want to—I want to—Oh, how can I tell you? +You are doing the thing I want to help in. All my life +I felt the time would come when I must devote myself +to the service and welfare of others. I think it's bred +in me. My father, my real father, he, too, gave up his +life to those who could not help themselves. Well, +I want to do the same in however humble fashion. These +men, these wonderful men of the forests whom you +spend your life in succouring. Can I not serve them, +too? Is there no place for me under your leadership? +Can I not go out into the forests? I am strong. I am +strong to face anything, any hardship. I have no fear. +The call of these forests has got right into my blood. +Don't deny me," she appealed. "Don't tell me I'm +just a woman with no strength to withstand the rigours +of the winter. I couldn't stand that. I have the strength, +and I have the will. Can you? Will you help me?"</p> + +<p>The girl's appeal was spoken with all the ardour of +youthful passion. There was no sham in it. No hysterical +impulse. It was irresistibly real.</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were deeply regarding her. But he +was thinking far less of her words than of the girl herself. +Her amazing beauty, the passionate youth and strength. +The perfection of her splendid womanhood. These +things held him, and his mind travelled swiftly back over +years to other scenes and other emotions.</p> + +<p>When at last he spoke his words came slowly and were +carefully considered.</p> + + +<p>"I think, perhaps, I can help you," he said. "You +are determined? You want to help those who need +help? The men of the forests?" He shook his head. +"I don't see why you shouldn't help the men of these +forests who—need your help."</p> + +<p>Nancy drew a deep breath. A wonderful smile sprang +into her pretty eyes. It was a glad smile of thanks such +as no words of hers could have expressed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Father—thank you."</p> + +<p>Again came the man's restless movement at the word +"Father." He abruptly leant forward and held his +cup out for replenishment.</p> + +<p>"May I?" he asked. Then his smile broke out again. +"But tell me," he went on. "What have you done about +the Skandinavia?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>Nancy returned him his cup with an unsteady hand.</p> + +<p>"Nothing? But you must communicate with them. +You should write and tell them of your decision. You +should tell them you don't intend to return to them."</p> + +<p>Father Adam sipped his tea. He was watching intently +but unobtrusively the transparent display of +emotions which his words had conjured.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought about it," Nancy said at last, not +without some disappointment. "Do you really think +I should write? But it will take so long to reach them. +I can't wait for that. It—"</p> + +<p>"Wire."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I suppose I could—wire."</p> + +<p>"Sternford will have it sent for you."</p> + +<p>In a moment the light of hope died out of the girl's +eyes. The excited flush on her cheeks paled. And the +man saw, and read the sign he beheld.</p> + +<p>He waited. But Nancy remained silent, crushed +under the feeling of utter desolation to which the mention +of Bull Sternford's name had reduced her.</p> + + +<p>Father Adam set his cup down.</p> + +<p>"Don't let the sending of that message worry, child," +he said quickly. "These people deserve no better treatment +after the thing they've done to you. All you need +say is, 'You will accept my resignation forthwith.'" +Write that out on a piece of paper, and sign it. Then +take it along to Mr. Sternford. Tell him of your decision, +and ask him to have it sent by the wireless. He'll do it, +my dear. And after that—why, after that, if you still +feel the same about things, and want to turn missionary +in the lumber camps, come right back to me here, and +I'll do for you as you ask. It's a great thought, Nancy, +and I honour you for it. It's a hard, desperate sort of +life, without comfort or earthly reward. Once the twilight +of the forest claims you, and its people know you, +there's nothing to do but to go on and on to the end. +Will you go—and send just that message?"</p> + +<p>Nancy inclined her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'll go right away, just as soon as I've taken +this tray back."</p> + +<p>She rose abruptly. She gathered the remains of the +meal on to the tray and picked it up. And the manner +of her movements betrayed her. She stood for a moment, +and the man saw the struggle for composure that was +going on behind her pretty eyes.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said at last, and the man abruptly +rose from his chair and moved away, "I just can't thank +you—for this. It's given me fresh hope. A hope I never +thought would be mine. Some day—"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke and the man turned at once. He was +smiling again.</p> + +<p>"Don't say a word, my dear. Not a word. Go and +write that message, and take it to Sternford. And then—why—"</p> + +<p>He moved over to the door and held it open for her. +As she passed out he nodded kindly, and looked after + +her till she vanished into the kitchen at the end of the +passage.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Father Adam was alone again in the room that had +been his for so many weeks. The door was closed and +he stood at the window gazing out at the dreary world +beyond. But he saw nothing of it. He was thinking +with the speed of a mind chafing at delay. He was +wondering and hoping, and—fearing.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_35"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXVI—The Message</h3> + + +<p>It was a woman of desperately fortified resolve who +turned the handle of the office door in response to Bull +Sternford's peremptory summons. The thought of the +coming interview terrified Nancy, and her terror had +nothing whatever to do with the sending of her message.</p> + +<p>Bull failed to look up from the mass of papers that +littered his desk. His sharp "Well," as Nancy approached +him, was utterly impatient at the interruption. And its +effect was crushing upon the girl in her present dispirited +mood. She felt like headlong flight. She stood her +ground, however, and the sound of her little nervous +clearing of the throat came to the man at the table.</p> + +<p>Bull looked up. In an instant his whole attitude +underwent a complete change. His eyes lit, and he +sprang from his seat behind the desk. He came towards +the shrinking girl, eager and smiling with the +welcome his love inspired.</p> + +<p>"Why, say, Nancy," he cried. "I just hadn't a +notion it was you. I was up to my neck in all this stuff," +he said, indicating the litter on his desk, "and I hadn't +a thought but it was the darn Chink come to worry +with food." He laughed. "You certainly have handed + +me some scare since you got a grip on our crazy household. +I've got a nightmare all the time I've got to eat. +And the trouble is I'd hate to miss any of it. Will +you come right over to the window and sit? There's +daylight enough still. We don't need to use Skert's +electric juice till we have to. I'm real glad you came +along."</p> + +<p>The man's delight was transparent. Nancy remained +unresponsive, however. She was blind to everything +but the thing she had come to do, and the hopelessness +that weighed so heavily upon her.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said simply, accepting the chair he +set for her. "I didn't think you'd—you see, I waited +till I guessed you'd be through. But I won't keep you. +It's just a small favour, that's all."</p> + +<p>Bull observed her closely. She was so amazingly and +completely charming. She was no longer clad in the rough, +warm garments of the trail. Even the cotton overall +she used in the work of the house had been removed. +Now a dainty frock, that had no relation to the rigours +of Labrador, displayed the delicate beauty of her figure, +and perfectly harmonised with the colouring of her +wonderful hair. Somehow it seemed to the man her beauty +had intensified in its appeal since the day of her +supreme confidence in the cause for which she had so +devotedly fought.</p> + +<p>"A favour?" he laughed. "Why, I'm just glad."</p> + +<p>Even while he spoke Bull remembered his talk with +Bat Harker when he had listened to a wealth of pitying +comment upon the feelings and opinions he had then +laid bare. The girl's unsmiling eyes troubled him.</p> + +<p>"What's the favour?" he asked simply, as Nancy +remained silent.</p> + +<p>The girl started. She had turned to the evening +light pouring in through the window. Her thought had +wandered to that grim, dark future when the twilit forests + +would close about her, and the strong tones of this man's +voice would never again be able to reach her.</p> + +<p>She drew a folded paper from the bosom of her frock.</p> + +<p>"Would you let them send it for me—wireless?" she +asked timidly. "It's—it's to Mr. Peterman."</p> + +<p>All Bull's desire to smile had passed. He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "If you wish it. It shall be sent +right off."</p> + +<p>His tone had suddenly lost its warmth. It seemed as +if the mention of Peterman's name had destroyed his +goodwill.</p> + +<p>Nancy searched his face anxiously. The man's brows +had depressed and his strong jaws had become set. She +knew that expression. Usually it was the prelude to +uncompromising action.</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," she cried. "I know the thing you're +thinking. You're reminding yourself of all I've done, +and of the injury I've striven to inflict on you. You're +wondering at my temerity in asking you to help me communicate +with your enemies. But please, please don't +think worse of me than you can help. I'm not just +trying to use you. It's not that. Will you read the +message? Maybe it'll tell you better than any words +of mine."</p> + +<p>The paper was held out to him in an unsteady hand. +Bull ignored it. He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said.</p> + +<p>Nancy sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"But you must read it," she cried. "If you don't I—oh, +I won't send it. I couldn't. Don't make me sorry +I asked this favour. It is so little to you, and—and +it means so much to me."</p> + +<p>She stood waiting, but Bull showed no sign of yielding. +He was thinking of the man, Peterman. He remembered +his good-looking Teutonic face, and the favour + +with which Nancy had seemed to regard him. A +smouldering jealousy had suddenly blazed up within him.</p> + +<p>Nancy turned away in desperation. She moved to +depart.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said. And even in her trouble there +was a coldness in her tone no less than his.</p> + +<p>Bull choked down his feelings.</p> + +<p>"Please don't go," he cried, urgently. "It would +please me very much to have that message sent. Say, +I wasn't thinking the way you reckoned. I wasn't +thinking of the message at all."</p> + +<p>"Then you will read it?" The girl came back readily.</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" Bull asked smilingly. "Say, a +friend asking me to send a message for him, a message +no concern of mine, what would you think, what would +he feel, if I demanded to read its contents?"</p> + +<p>He ran the fingers of one hand through his mane of +hair and stood smiling down into the girl's pretty eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know this thing makes me want to talk. I've +just got to talk. The position's sort of impossible as +it stands. Maybe you don't guess the thing I'm feeling, +and maybe I don't just know how it is with you. We've +got to talk right out and show down our hands. If we +don't—"</p> + +<p>He turned away and glanced out of window. Then +his eyes came back claimed by the magnetism which the +girl exercised.</p> + +<p>"You know, Nancy, our war is over. The war between +you and me. We declared war, didn't we? We +declared it in Quebec, and we both promised to do our +best, or—worst. It was a sort of compact. We made +it meaning it, and understanding the meaning of it. +If you got the drop on me you were to use it. The +same with me. It was one of those friendly things, +between friends, which might easily mean life or death. +We knew that, and were ready to stand just for whatever + +came along. Well, we fought our battle. It's over. +It's done. Now for God's sake let's forget it. It's +easy for me. You see, I'm a rough, hard sort of product +of these forests that doesn't worry with scruples and +things. I'm not a woman who's full of the notions +belonging to her sex. I can wipe the whole thing out +of my mind. I can feel glad for the scrap you put up. +I can think one hell of a great piece of you for it. Maybe +it's different with you, being a woman. I guess it's +not going to be easy forgiving the way I had to handle +you back out there on the trail. Or the way you were +forced to live our camp life on the way down here. Or +how I've had to hold you prisoner in a rough household +of rougher men. I get all that. I know the thing it +is to a woman. All it means. Still, it must have been +plain to you the chances of that sort of thing before you +started in. That is if I was worth my salt as a fighter. +Well, can you kind of forgive it? Can't you try to +forget? Can't you figger the whole darn thing's past +and done with, and we're back at where we were in those +days in Quebec, when you didn't hate me to death, and +felt good taking dinner in my company? Say, do you +remember the old <em>Myra</em> you'll soon be boarding again? +You remember our talk on the deck, when the howling +gale hit us? We were talking of the sense of things +in Nature, and how she mussed them up. And how +we'd have done a heap better if the job had been ours. +Well?" His smile deepened. "Here we are standing +in the sort of fool position of—what'll I call it? Antagonism? +Anyway we agreed to fight, and stand for all +it meant to us, and we're both feeling all broken up at +the way we had to act to hurt each other most." He +shook his head. "Where's our boasted sense of things? +We ought to be sitting right here talking it over, and +laughing to beat the band, that I had to treat you like +a dangerous bunch of goods li'ble to get me by the + +throat, and choke the life out of me, while you were +chasing every old notion folks could stuff into your +dandy head to set me broke and busted so I wouldn't +know where to collect a square feed once a week. That's +what we ought to be doing, if we had the sense we guess. +Instead of that you're feeling badly at me for the things +I had to do to you. And I'm worried to death I'll +never get a laugh from you for the fool talk I don't know +better than to make. You need me to send that message +to Peterman. Why, sure I'll send it, even if it's to tell +him how mighty glad you are to be quitting the prison +I'd condemned you to, and the joy it's going to hand +you to see his darnation Teuton face again. Sure I'll +send it. It's the least I can do to make up to you for +those things I've done to you. But—but for God's sake +don't ask me to read it."</p> + +<p>The man concluded with a gesture that betrayed his +real feelings. He was in desperate earnest for all his +attempt at lightness. His words came swiftly, in that +headlong fashion so characteristic of his most earnest +mood. And Nancy listening to him, caught something +of that which lay behind them. The faintest shadow +of a smile struggled into her eyes. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I haven't a thought in my head about you—that +way," she said. "It's not been that way with me. No." +She averted her gaze from the eager eyes before her. +"It's the thing I've done and been. It's the thing you, +and every other honest creature, must feel about me. +Oh, don't you see? The killing, the bloodshed and +suffering—But I can't talk about it even now. It's +all too dreadful still. I'm quitting when Father Adam +goes, and—and—But believe me no judgment you +can pass on me can begin to express the thing I feel +about myself. Please don't think I bear one single hard +thought against you."</p> + +<p>The man laughed outright. The buoyancy of that + +moment was supreme. Bat Harker was again in his +mind. Bat, with all his quaint, crude philosophy.</p> + +<p>"Say, that beats everything," Bull cried. "My judgment +of you. And all this time I've been guessing—Oh, +hell! Say, do you know, it gets me bad when I +think of you going back to Peterman and his crew? +It sets me well-nigh crazy. Oh, I know. I've no right. +None at all. But it don't make me feel any better. +Here, I'll tell you about it. I'm not going to take to +myself virtues I don't possess, and have no right to +anyway. I wanted to win out in the fight against the +Skandinavia because I'm a bit of a fighting machine. +I wanted to win out for the dollars I'm going to help +myself to. But I also wanted to win out because of the +great big purpose that lies behind these mills of Sachigo. +I want you to get right inside my mind on that thing so +you'll know one of the reasons why I hate that you're +sending word to Peterman. You'll maybe understand +then the thing that made me fight you, a woman, as well +as the others, and treat you in a fashion that's made me +hate myself ever since. I'm going to say it as bluntly +as I know how. It'll be like beating you, a helpless +victim, right over the head with a club. I've acted the +brute right along to you, an' I s'pose I best finish up +that way. You were doing your best to sell your birthright, +my birthright, to the foreigner. You were helping +the alien, Peterman, and his gang, to snatch the wealth +of our forests. Why? You didn't think. You didn't +know. There was no one to tell you. You simply didn't +know the thing you were doing.</p> + +<p>"This man Peterman was good to you. He held out +prospects that glittered. It was good enough. And all +the time he was looking to steal your birthright. The +birthright of every Canadian. That makes you feel +bad. Sure it does. I can see it. But I got to tell it +that way, because—Here, I'm on the other side. It + +was chance, not virtue set me there. But once there +the notion got me good. Sachigo was built to defend +the great Canadian forests against the foreigner. That +slogan got a grip on me. Yes, it got me good. I could +scrap with every breath in my body for that. Well, +now we've got the Skandinavia beat, and in a year or +so they'll be on the scrap heap, ready to sell at scrap +price. That's so. I know. Sachigo will be the biggest +thing of its kind in the world next year, and there won't +be any room for the Skandinavia. That's a reason I +hate for you to go back to Peterman—one reason."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not going back," Nancy cried vehemently.</p> + +<p>Bull stared wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"You're not going back?" he echoed stupidly. Then +of a sudden he held out his hand. "Say, pass that +message right over. Why in—Guess I'm crazy to +read it—now."</p> + +<p>Nancy held the paper out to him. There was something +so amazingly headlong in his manner. All the +girl's apprehensions, all her depression, were swept +away, and a rising excitement replaced them. A surge of +thankfulness rose up in her. At least he would learn +that she had no intention of further treachery to the +land of her birth.</p> + +<p>"Accept my resignation forthwith."</p> + +<p>Bull read the brief message aloud. It was addressed to +Peterman, and it was signed "Nancy McDonald." The +force, the coldness of the words were implacable. He +revelled in the phrasing. He revelled in the thing they +conveyed. He looked up. The girl was smiling. She +had forgotten everything but the approval she saw +shining in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he reached out and his great hands came +gently down upon her softly rounded shoulders. It was +a wonderful caress. They held her firmly while he +gazed into her eyes.</p> + + +<p>"Say, Nancy," he cried, in a voice that was deep with +emotion. "You mean that? Those words? You've +quit the Skandinavia? What—what are you going to +do?"</p> + +<p>"I—I'm going to the forests with Father Adam. I'm +going to help the boys we've so often talked about. +I'm—"</p> + +<p>"Not on your life!"</p> + +<p>The man's denial rang out with all the force of his +virile nature.</p> + +<p>"Say, listen right here. You've quit them. You've +quit Peterman. And you reckon from one fool play +you're going right over to another. No, sir, not on +your life. It's my chance now, and by God I don't +pass it. I'm kind of a rough citizen and don't know +the way a feller should say this sort of stuff. But I'm +crazy to marry you and have been that way ever since +you came along, and sat right in this office, and invited +me to take tea in the parlour of that darnation bug, +Peterman. Do you know all that means, Nancy? It +means I'm just daft with love for you, and have been +ever since I set eyes on you, for all I had to treat you +worse than a 'hold-up.' Say, my dear, will you give +me the chance to show you? Can you forget it all? +Can you? I'll raise every sort of hell to fix you good +and happy. And you and me, together, we'll just send +this great Sachigo of ours booming sky high, and in a +year I promise to hand you the wreckage that was once +the Skandinavia. Marry me, dear, and I'll show you +the thing a man can be and do. And I'll make you forget +the ruffian I've had to act towards you. Will you let +me help you to forget? Will you—?"</p> + +<p>Nancy's eyes were frankly raised to the passionate +gaze which revealed the depths of the man's great heart.</p> + +<p>"I have," she said in a low voice. "I've forgotten +everything but—but—you."</p> + + +<p>She moved as she spoke. There was no hesitation. +All her soul was shining in her eyes, and she yielded to +the impulse she was powerless to deny. She came to +him, releasing herself from the great hands that held +her shoulders. She reached up and placed her soft arms +about the neck that rose trunk-like above his shoulders. +In a moment she was caught and crushed in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Why—that's just fine!"</p> + +<p>The exclamation broke from the man out of sheer +delight and happiness. And the while he bent down +and kissed the smiling upturned face, and permitted one +hand to wander caressingly over the girl's wealth of +beautiful hair.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<a name="toc_36"></a> +<h3>Chapter XXVII—Lost In The Twilight</h3> + + +<p>A fierce wind swept down off the hills. So it had +blown all night and all the day before. The sky was +overcast, and the thermometer had dropped below zero. +It was one of those brief "freeze-ups" such as Father +Adam had awaited, and it might last two or three days. +Then would come prompt reaction, and the rapidity of +the thaw would be an hundred-fold increased.</p> + +<p>The sun was hidden, and the sky looked to be heavily +burdened with snow. The earth was frozen solid, and +the wide flung forests were white with the hoar frosts of +Spring.</p> + +<p>Father Adam was standing beside the crouching team +of dogs. There were five of them; great huskies, +shaggy of coat and fiercely wolfish. They were fat +and soft from idleness. But they would serve, for +the sled was light, and a few days' run would swiftly +harden them.</p> + +<p>The outfit was waiting just beyond the kitchen door + +of the house on the hill, and the view of the busy Cove +below was completely shut out. The position for the +waiting sled had not been calculated by the man who +owned it, but by the shrewd, troubled mind of Bat +Harker.</p> + +<p>He was standing beside the tall figure of the missionary +now, squat and sturdy, looking on with half-angry, +wholly anxious eyes. His expression was characteristic +of the man when he was disturbed. Father Adam's dark +eyes were surveying his outfit. There was no emotion +in them. They were calm, and simply searching, in +the fashion of the practised trail man.</p> + +<p>"Say, Les, this is just the craziest thing of all your +crazy life," Bat said at last, in a tone kept low for all the +feeling that lay behind it. "I tell you they're waiting +on you. They've got you set. Just as sure as God +this'll be your last trip. It's kind of useless talkin' it +again out here, I know. We've talked an' talked it in +that darn sick room of yours till I'm sick to death trying +to git sense into you. We know the game from A to the +hindmost letter of the darn alphabet. We haven't shouted +it, you an' me, because there wasn't need. But Idepski's +been right here since ever he got his nose on your trail. +It was his gun that took you weeks back, an' sent you +sick. If I know a thing he meant just to wing you, +and leave you kind of helpless, so he could get hands +on you when he fancied. He wants you alive, and he's +goin' to git you. Ther's word got round you're pulling +out. It's clear to me. A bunch of boys hit the trail +out of here three nights gone, and I've a notion Idepski +went with 'em. Are they wise you're pulling out? +Sure they are. Why, in God's name, don't you quit it?"</p> + +<p>The man whom the forest world knew as Father Adam, +but whom Bat knew as Leslie Standing, shrugged his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" he said, his dark eyes mildly enquiring, + +"you can't tell me a thing I don't know about +Idepski. I knew it was he who dropped me. I saw +him that night down there and knew him right away. +Maybe he can fool you with his disguises. He can't +fool me. I'd been watching him days before that."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you show yourself? Why didn't you +say?"</p> + +<p>Bat spoke fiercely in his exasperation.</p> + +<p>The missionary smiled.</p> + +<p>"You'd have had him shot up," he said. "I know. +No. If you'd known I was around it would have queered +the hand I was playing. Here, Bat, let's get this thing +right. You could shoot up a dozen Idepskis, and there'd +be others to replace 'em. Hellbeam's dogs'll never let +up." He shook his head. "It's a play that'll go on to +the—end. I know that. I tell you I've got past caring +a curse about things. When the end comes, what does +it matter! Not a thing. It's useless talking, old friend," +he said, as Bat attempted to break in, "quite useless. +But don't reckon I'm a willing quitter. I'll play the +game till it can't be played longer. And when I've got to +I'll throw my hands up. Not before. But Idepski can't +follow my trail."</p> + +<p>"But he ken cut it," Bat cried, desperation finding +expression in a clenched, out-held fist.</p> + +<p>"Can he?"</p> + +<p>The missionary smiled confidently. And Bat suddenly +flung out both hands.</p> + +<p>"Say, Les," he cried, "do you think I want to see my +partner, and best friend, hounded to a life of hell by that +swine, Hellbeam? It breaks me to death the thought +of it. Man, man, it sets me nigh crazed thinking that +way. Don't I count with you? Don't the others you +came along to help count? That dandy gal I've heard +you wish was your own daughter? Don't she count? +Say, we're all for you, Bull an' Nancy, an' me, just the + +same as the rest of the folk of the forest. Stop right +here, man. Take your place again, an' we'll fight Hellbeam +as we've fought his Skandinavia. Say, we'll fight +for you as we've never fought before. We'll fight him, +and beat him, and keep you safe from that hell he's got +waitin' for you. Just say the word, and stop right +here. And I'll swear before God—"</p> + +<p>Leslie Standing raised a protesting hand. His eyes +were unsmiling.</p> + +<p>"It's useless, old friend," he said with irrevocable +decision. "You don't know the thing you're trying to +pledge yourself to. You think me a crazy man. You +think I'm just asking for the trouble Hellbeam figures +to hand out to me. I'm not. I've got the full measure +of the whole thing. And I know the thing I'm doing +doesn't matter. I'm not going to change the plan of +life I've laid down. I've learnt happiness in the forests. +The twilight of it all has been my salvation. Time was +when I had other desires, other delights. They've long +since passed. Now there's only one appeal to me in life. +It's the boys, the scallawags, who haunt the forest like +I do. I love them. And my life's theirs as long as Hellbeam +leaves it to me. Get just that into your thick, +old head, Bat, and for our last five minutes together +we can talk of things more pleasant than Hellbeam."</p> + +<p>The missionary smiled down into the strong face of +his companion. And the lumberman realised the uselessness +of further protest. He yielded grudgingly. He +yielded because he knew and loved the man. By a great +effort he turned his mind from the dread haunting it.</p> + +<p>"You've got me beat, Les," he growled. Then he +spat in his disgust.</p> + +<p>The missionary nodded, and, with a gesture of the +hand, he indicated the hidden mills below them.</p> + +<p>"It's queer the way the whole thing's completed itself +as I hoped and dreamed so long ago," he said thoughtfully. + +"You know, Bat, that yellow streak in me was a better +thing than either of us knew. If I hadn't had it I'd have +stood my ground. I'd have fought to the end, and I'd +have been beaten, and Sachigo would have crashed. Do +you see that? No. That's because you look at things +with the obstinate eyes of great courage. While I, +through fear, see things as they are. We won't debate +it now. The accomplished fact is the thing. You've +set Sachigo on top. Sachigo will rule the Canadian forest +industry. The foreigner is on the scrap heap. We've +helped to build something for this great old Empire of +ours, and so our lives haven't been wholly wasted. It's +good to feel that when the time comes to pay our debts. +That boy Sternford's a great feller. I'm glad about +him. Say, I felt I could cry last night when he and +Nancy came along like two school-kids to tell me of the +thing they'd fixed. I felt like handing them my story +and claiming my place as Nancy's stepfather. But I +didn't. You see, she's glad about me as Father Adam, +a dopey missionary. But I can see her eyes blaze up +red-hot with anger at the man who took her mother +from her, and denied her existence. No, it's best that +way. She's found the man I could have chosen for her, +and I'm glad. She's a great lass. She's all her mother—and +more."</p> + +<p>Bat inclined his stubborn head. He was still thinking +of the dogs, and the sled, and all they meant to him just +now.</p> + +<p>"Does she know about her share in the mills?" he +asked brusquely.</p> + +<p>The other shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. But I've sent word to Charlie Nisson. He'll +be along up on the <em>Myra</em>. And when he comes she'll +know." He laughed quietly. "Say, I'd be glad to see +them when they know about it—she and Bull. They're +going to be married right after Birchall's been along and + +finally fixed things. It'll be a great day. I wonder. +You know, Bat, I'd like to think Nancy—my Nancy—knows +all about this. I wonder if she does. Do you +think so?"</p> + +<p>Bat turned away. His eyes were on the surrounding +forest, and the white gossamer of the hoar-frost clinging +to the dark foliage. He dared not trust himself to reply.</p> + +<p>Again came the missionary's quiet laugh.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said. Then, in a moment, a curious +flicker marred the calm of his eyes. "Bat, old friend," +he went on, after a pause, "there's just one thing I'm +going to ask you before I pull out. It's a promise I +want. When the time comes for me to pay, will you +tell her? Will you tell them both? If I'm gone will +you tell them the thing you know—all of it? Don't +make me out to be any old angel I guess you'd like to +paint me. Just hand 'em the story of the white-livered +creature I am, without the nerve of a jack-rabbit. Will +you do that?"</p> + +<p>He held out a hand from which he removed his fur +mitt. Bat turned. He saw the hand, and disregarded +it in a surge of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em? Tell 'em?" he cried. "Say, Les, for God +Almighty's sake don't you pull out. You're my friend. +You're the one feller in the world that matters a curse +to me. Quit boy. Stop right here, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Will you tell 'em?"</p> + +<p>The hand was thrust further towards the lumberman +so that he could no longer ignore it.</p> + +<p>"Hell! Yes!" he cried, in fierce mental anguish. +I'll tell 'em—if I have to." He seized the outstretched +hand in both of his and gripped it with crushing force. +"You're goin'—now?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>Their hands fell apart. Bat's dropped to his side +like leaden weights.</p> + + +<p>"So long," he said dully, as the other took his place +in the sled. Then he added, "So long, Les."</p> + +<p>The sled needed breaking out, and the lumberman +watched the operation of it without a word. His emotions +were too real, to deep for anything more. He +looked on while the first sharp order was flung at the +dogs. He watched them leap to their feet and stand +ready, great, powerful, untamed souls eager for their, +task. Then the man in the sled looked round as he +strung out the long lash of his short-stocked whip.</p> + +<p>"So long, Bat," he cried smilingly. And his farewell +was instantly followed by the sharp command to "mush."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Far out on the desolate highlands the dogs broke trail +over a waste of virgin snow. The cold had abated, and +the flurry of snow that rose up under their feet was wet +and melting. The way lay through the maze of woodland +bluffs which lined the upper slopes of the course +of the Beaver River. Beyond them, northward, lay the +windswept barrens of the highlands.</p> + +<p>Father Adam knew the trail by heart. The maze of +bluffs through which he was passing afforded him no +difficulties or anxieties. He read them with the certainty +of wide and long experience. There was nothing new that +Labrador had to show him. He knew it all, and revelled +in the wide freedom its fierce territory afforded. The +moods of the country concerned him not at all. Furious +or gentle, tearful or hard with the bitterness of desperate +winter, it was all one to him. He loved the twilight of +its mysterious, fickle heart. It was as much his home as +any place on earth.</p> + +<p>The dogs swept on at a steady gait. The cruel whip +played over furry backs, a never-ceasing threat. And so +the miles were hungrily devoured. It was the first day +of freedom for dogs and man alike, and each moment of +it yielded a sense of almost fierce joy.</p> + + +<p>The bluffs narrowed in, and the softer snow slowed +the going. Instantly a sharp command hurled the leading +dog heading for the open where the surface was hard and +dry. The team swung away behind him and the sled +pursued. Then the silence broke.</p> + +<p>A shot rang out. It came from the shelter of a bluff +directly ahead. The leading dog floundered. Then the +brute fell with a fierce yelp, and sprawled in the snow +while the others swept over his inert body. The man +in the sled strove to brake the sled with the "gee-pole" +which he snatched to his aid. There was a moment of +desperate struggle. Then the sled flung tail up in the air +and the man was hurled headlong amidst his dogs.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Father Adam stood with mitted hands thrust up above +his head. He was gazing into the smiling eyes of a man +no less dark than himself. There were three others confronting +him, and each was armed with a stubby, automatic +pistol which covered his body.</p> + +<p>"Guess Hellbeam's waiting for you over the other side, +Mr. Leslie Martin, or Standing, or Father Adam, as you +choose to call yourself. He's waited a long time. But +you ain't tired him out. Guess your game's up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes?"</p> + +<p>The missionary smiled back into Idepski's derisive +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You can drop your hands," the agent went on. +"We've got your gun. And I guess you'll be kind of +tired before we get you to the coast. You're going to +find things a heap tougher than No. 10 Camp—where +you sent me. You surely are."</p> + +<p>"The coast?"</p> + +<p>The missionary was startled.</p> + +<p>"Yep. There's going to be no play game this time. +Hellbeam's yacht's waiting on you. You'll take the sea +trip. It's safer that way."</p> + + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The mitted hands had dropped to the missionary's +sides. He moistened his lips, which seemed to have +become curiously dry. Once, and once only, there was +a flicker of the eyes as he looked into the face of his +captor. Otherwise he gave no sign. His time had come. +He knew that. He had always known it would come. +There was neither heat nor resentment in him against +these men who had finally hunted him down.</p> + +<p>"How do we travel?" he asked quietly. "You've shot +up my leader."</p> + +<p>The other nodded. He understood the tone of complaint +and regret in which the trail man spoke of his dog. +He grinned maliciously.</p> + +<p>"We'll shoot up the rest for you. They'd only feed +the wolves if we left 'em. We've two dog trains with us. +Don't let that worry. You best get your kit loosed from +your sled."</p> + +<p>The prisoner turned to obey, but the agent changed +his mind. He laughed.</p> + +<p>"No. Guess the boys can fix that. It's safer that +way. You move right on into yonder bluff. And you +best not try making any break. There ain't only Hellbeam +in this. I haven't forgotten—No. 10 Camp. Your +game's plumb up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, plumb up."</p> + +<p>Father Adam obeyed. He moved away, followed +closely by the man who had hunted him for so many years. +There was no escape. He knew that. The reckoning +he had always foreseen had overtaken him. So, without +a word of protest, he passed for the last time into +the twilight of the woods.</p> + + +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="doublepage"> + +<div> +<h2>The Heart of Unaga</h2> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>Ridgwell Cullum</p> + +<p>Author of "The Way of the Strong," etc.</p> + + +<p>Many a stalwart deed has been done and many a +brave tale told of the forbidding but romantic North-land, +but seldom has an author so combined a tale of +love, adventure, and strong swift action with mystery.</p> + +<p>The terrible fires of Unaga crimsoning the white +silent wastes are so vividly portrayed, that the reader +must feel authenticity. The strange "sleeper" Indians +are real Indians, the big-souled Northwest policeman +is not a superman, but a real human being, the girl is +bonafide, the villain is not fictional, but an actual +personality, brave and base alike—all the characters +are living and breathing folk, that you feel are there +in far-off Unaga, and that you know you would find +there, were you hardy enough to visit that remorseless +country.</p> + +<p>G, P. Putnam's Sons</p> + +<p>New York</p> + +<p>London</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div> +<h2>Snowdrift</h2> + +<p>BY</p> + +<p>James B. Hendryx</p> + + +<p>A Romance of the barrens—"straight north—between +the Mackenzie and the Bay," where +Snowdrift, waif of the Arctic, Indian bred, bearing +a false but heavy burden of shame, and Carter +Brent, Southerner, find their great happiness +among the icy wastes.</p> + +<p>Swept to the Klondike by the first wave of the +great gold rush, Brent plunges, with the enthusiasm +of youth, into the whirl of Dawson, the city +of men gone mad. How luck sat upon his shoulder, +and how his recklessness and daring won him the +admiration of those wild times, until the raw red +liquor of Alaska downed him "for the count," is +but the beginning of the tale; for with him, we +are carried into the Northern night and fight the +long fight back to manhood till purged by the +cleansing cruelty of the Arctic.</p> + +<p>G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</p> + +<p>NEW YORK</p> +<p>LONDON</p> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class="back"> +</div> + +</div> +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14756 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |