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diff --git a/old/14756.txt b/old/14756.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e45b40b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14756.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14034 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Man in the Twilight, by Ridgwell Cullum + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Man in the Twilight + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: January 22, 2005 [eBook #14756] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT*** + + +E-text prepared by Wallace McLean, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson, +and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT + +by + +RIDGWELL CULLUM + +G.P. Putnam's Sons +New York and London +The Knickerbocker Press + +1922 + + + + + + + +BY RIDGWELL CULLUM + + THE DEVIL'S KEG + THE HOUND FROM THE NORTH + THE BROODING WILD + THE NIGHT RIDERS + THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS + THE COMPACT + THE TRAIL OF THE AXE + THE ONE WAY TRAIL + THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE + TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK + THE GOLDEN WOMAN + THE WAY OF THE STRONG + THE LAW BREAKERS + THE SON OF HIS FATHER + THE MEN WHO WROUGHT + THE PURCHASE PRICE + THE TRIUMPH OF JOHN KARS + THE LAW OF THE GUN + THE HEART OF UNAGA + + + + + + +TO MY NEPHEW +GEOFFREY FREDERICK BURGHARD +THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY +DEDICATED + + + + +THE AUTHOR TO THE READER + + +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. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART ONE + + I.--THE CRISIS + II.--THE MAN WITH THE MAIL + III.--IDEPSKI + IV.--THE "YELLOW STREAK" + V.--NANCY MCDONALD + VI.--NATHANIEL HELLBEAM + + +PART TWO + +EIGHT YEARS LATER + + I.--BULL STERNFORD + II.--FATHER ADAM + III.--BULL LEARNS CONDITIONS + IV.--DRAWING THE NET + V.--THE PROGRESS OF NANCY + VI.--THE LONELY FIGURE + VII.--THE SKANDINAVIA MOVES + VIII.--AN AFFAIR OF OUTPOSTS + IX.--ON THE OPEN SEA + X.--IN QUEBEC + XI.--DRAWN SWORDS + XII.--AT THE CHATEAU + XIII.--DEEPENING WATERS + XIV.--THE PLANNING OF CAMPAIGN + XV.--THE SAILING OF THE _Empress_ + XVI.--ON BOARD THE _Empress_ + XVII.--THE LONELY FIGURE AGAIN + XVIII.--BULL STERNFORD'S VISION OF SUCCESS + XIX.--THE HOLD-UP + XX.--ON THE HOME TRAIL + XXI.--THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT + XXII.--DAWN + XXIII.--NANCY + XXIV.--THE COMING OF SPRING + XXV.--NANCY'S DECISION + XXVI.--THE MESSAGE + XXVII.--LOST IN THE TWILIGHT + + + + +THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CRISIS + + +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. + +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. + +"Give us that last bit again." + +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. + +Standing's eyes lit with a shadow of a smile as he turned again to the +letter. + + "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." + +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. + +"Charlie Nisson's as keen as a needle," Standing said. "His whisper's a +sight more than another fellow's shout." + +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. + +"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." + +"Yes, we'll get it in a hurry." + +Standing nodded. He was transparently perturbed. Bat watched him +closely. Then, in a moment, his mind was made up. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"How?" + +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. + +"When your boy's born, what then?" + +"Ah!" + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"That's how I figgered." + +Bat's delight softened his hard eyes for the moment, and his attitude +relaxed as Standing went on. + +"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. + +"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." + +It was Bat who was held silent now. He nodded his head at the narrow +back that remained turned on him. + +"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--_I_ feel--that the fulfilment of this dream is not for me. Why?" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Money," he had said calmly. "Just money. It can do most things." + +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. + +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. + +Standing came back to his chair. + +"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--." + +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. + +"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. + +He had gone as swiftly and silently as he came, and the door was closed +softly behind him. + +Standing was gazing across at Bat. He had not even glanced at the +message. + +"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--." + +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. + +"Here, listen," he cried, with a sharp intake of breath. + +"Watch _Lizzie_ for U.G.P. Signed--Nisson." + +Bat nodded. + +"U.G.P. That's Union Great Peninsular Railroad. That's Hellbeam's. It +means--." + +"It means Hellbeam's men are aboard. The packet _Lizzie_ is due at our +quay in less than an hour." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MAN WITH THE MAIL + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Only the _Lizzie_ getting in." + +Bat was without apparent appreciation. He was thinking only of the +message they had received, and the threat it contained. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The _Lizzie_ came steadily on. + +"We'll know the whole game in minutes now." + +Standing could keep silent no longer. Bat nodded. + +"Yep." + +Orders from the bridge of the packet boat rang out over the water. Then +Standing went on. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Ole Porson," he said. + +"I thought so. He's a good boy. He'll do." + +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. + +"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." + +Bat still remained silent. He understood. The other was talking because +it was impossible for him to refrain. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +The bustle of landing was in full swing. Even with so small a craft as +the _Lizzie_ 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. + +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. + +"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 _Myra_. 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 _Lizzie_ 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--." + +Standing shook his head. + +"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." + +Captain Hardy nodded. + +"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. + +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 _Lizzie_ put to sea again. Not one of these escaped their +observation. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"The mail?" he enquired. And a curious sharpness flavoured his demand. +Then he added, with studied indifference. "One of your--dockside +loafers?" + +Captain Hardy laughed. He continued to laugh as he watched the +unhandiness of the man staggering down the gangway under his burden. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +The mate's reply came back with an appreciative grin. + +"Ay, sir," he cried, and forthwith hurled the order at the mail carrier +with a plentiful accompaniment of appropriate adjectives. + +"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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IDEPSKI + + +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. + +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. + +Standing spoke coldly, emphatically. + +"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 _himself_. You get that?" + +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. + +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. + +"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--_himself_." + +"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?" + +The half-breed nodded. + +"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. + +"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." + +They passed into the office. The door closed behind them and Standing +moved over to his seat at the crowded desk. + +"Wal?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"It _is_--Idepski?" Bat filled and lit his pipe. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +"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 _Lizzie_." 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 _Lizzie_. 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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Keep your darn hands off!" he cried fiercely. "By--" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +The action was quite irresistible and Standing nodded. + +"Sure," he said smilingly, and picked up the matchbox lying on his +table. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Standing, too, was leaning back in his chair. + +"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." + +Idepski removed his cigarette from his lips and dropped the ash of it in +the waste basket. + +"No. It doesn't matter, because I'll get you--in the end," he retorted +coldly. + +"Perhaps." + +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. + +"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." + +Idepski had no intention of being drawn. He replied without turning. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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 _Lizzie_ 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." + +Standing beckoned Bat from his seat at the window. He held up the door +key. + +"You best take this," he said. "No. 10. And he starts out right away. He +needs to be well on the road before the _Lizzie_ puts to sea." + +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. + +"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. + +Standing inclined his head. He was without mercy, without pity. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The man stood up. And as he stood his eyes looked squarely into those of +Bat. + +"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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"You'll see me again, and when you do--well, don't forget Hellbeam's at +the other end of this business." + +The words haunted. The threat of them appealed to an imagination that +was a-riot. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dead!" he whispered without consciousness of articulation. "Dead! +Nancy! My boy! Both! Oh, God!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE "YELLOW STREAK" + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Best read it," he said. "Take your time. I'll just finish these figures +I'm working on." + +It was the curious, cold tone that stirred Bat to his first misgiving. + +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. + +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. + +"That was in the mail Idepski brought," Standing said, as he returned +the letter to its place, and shut and locked the drawer. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"There's a hell of a lot of orders to get out. We're running close up +to winter." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +And Bat had agreed on the instant. + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"Bat!" + +The lumberman turned sharply. He spat out a stream of tobacco juice and +waited. + +"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." + +The lumberman ejected a masticated chew and took a fresh one. + +"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. + +"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." + +"That's how I figgered. I've watched it in you, Les. Tell me the rest." + +Bat chewed steadily. It was a safety-valve for his feelings. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Standing shook his head at the broad back squared against the grey, +wintry sky. + +"I didn't mean it that way, old friend," he said. + +Bat swung around. His grey eyes were wide. His face seemed to have +softened out of its usual harsh cast. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Bat came back to his stump and stood against it while Standing passed a +weary hand across his forehead. + +"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 _The Abercrombie +Herald!_" + +Bat nodded. + +"Yes, sure, I know, Les. When you married Nancy an' made her +thirteen-year-old daughter--your daughter." + +"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. + +"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." + +The sweat of terror stood on the man's high forehead, and he wiped it +away. + +Bat flung a clenched fist down upon the tree stump. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"And this man you figger to locate? You reckon to take a chance on your +judgment?" + +Bat's challenge came on the instant. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"She's another man's child." + +Standing's retort was instant. And the tone of it cut like a knife. + +Bat regarded him keenly. His knife had ceased from its work on the plug. + +"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." + +For a moment the men looked into each other's eyes. It was a tense +moment of sudden crisis between them. + +"Well?" + +Bat's unyielding interrogation came sharply. Standing nodded. + +"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." + +"The mill?" + +"She shall have equal share when the time comes." + +"When the whole work's put through?" + +"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--" + +Bat smoked on thoughtfully, and presently the other roused himself from +the pre-occupation into which he had fallen. + +"Does that satisfy?" he demanded. + +Bat nodded. + +"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." + +He moved away from his leaning post and his back was turned to hide that +which looked out of his eyes. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +NANCY MCDONALD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"It has less attraction to-day, anyway," the lawyer responded without +turning. A short laugh punctuated his prompt reply. + +"You mean the Nancy McDonald business?" + +Sarah Nisson laid her mail aside. + +"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." + +"All of which I suppose has to do with the way Leslie Martin, or Leslie +Standing, as he calls himself now, is acting." + +"Well, most of it." + +The man's eyes had become seriously reflective again. + +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. + +"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?" + +The man shook his head. + +"I'd like to--but--" + +"But what?" + +"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--" + +"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--" + +"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--" + +A plump warning finger and smiling threat interrupted the laughing +charge. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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." + +The man moved away. + +"That's so," he agreed. "Well, anyway, I'll do the best I know for the +child, Sally. You can trust me." + +The woman's anxiety abated, and she rose from her chair. + +"I know that, Charles," she said. "But the McDonalds! They're--" + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + +"Miss McDonald to see you," he announced, in the modulated tone which +was part of his professional make-up. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You sent for me?" she said. + +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. + +"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--" + +"Because I'm his 'hired man.' But also because I'm his friend." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Why, just sit right here." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Who did then? Mother?" + +The girl's beautiful face flushed under her stirring emotions. The man +shook his head. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The girl looked up. A curious anxiety was shining in her eyes. + +"Trouble?" she demanded. "You mean he's done wrong? What d'you mean? +What sort of--trouble?" + +The man shook his head. + +"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." + +"I'd--I'd want to die," the girl cried impulsively. + +"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." + +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. + +"Tell me," she said, in a low voice. "Tell me some more." + +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.'" + +The man laid the letter aside and looked up. + +"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?" + +The girl made no answer. Her emotion was too strong for her. Two great +tears rolled slowly down her beautiful cheeks. + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +NATHANIEL HELLBEAM + + +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. + +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. + +"You seem to have made a bad mess of things." + +Nathaniel Hellbeam turned from the window and came back to his desk with +quick, short, energetic strides. + +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. + +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. + +He flung himself into the wide chair which gaped to receive him, and +glared at the dark face of his visitor. + +"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." + +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. + +Then he stirred, and removed his cigarette from his thin lips. + +"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." + +He deliberately helped himself without waiting for permission, while his +eyes dwelt on the gold box containing them. + +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. + +"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." + +He went on as the other inclined his head. + +"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." + +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-- + +"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." + +"They that think?" + +The financier's bloated cheeks purpled as he put his clumsy +interrogation. + +"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." + +"You heard all this--when you were held prisoner and working like a +swine in Martin's forests?" + +The smile in Hellbeam's eyes was no less ironical than the agent's. + +"When I was working like a swine." + +"These lumber-jacks. They knew all that in Standing's mind is?" + +"No. But I learned it all." + +"How?" + +The demand was instant, and a surge of force lay behind it. + +"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." + +"Yes." + +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. + +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. + +"Yet this fellow. He on the run is--Yes?" + +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. + +"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." + +Hellbeam leant back in his chair. His great paunch protruded invitingly +and he clasped his hands over it. + +"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." + +"Oh, I shall get him. Your urging ain't needed. I'll get him as you +say--alive. And he knows it." + +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. + +"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." + +Hellbeam nodded. + +"That's good sense." + +"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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"I see. I'll get him--sure. You needn't worry a thing." + +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. + + + + +PART II + +EIGHT YEARS LATER + + + + +CHAPTER I + +BULL STERNFORD + + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Bull missed it that time." + +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. + +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. + +"Gee! He's takin' a chance! That ain't the play in a 'rough and tough,'" +he muttered. + +"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." + +"Here get it!" Tug Burke was pointing with a cant-hook in his +excitement. "Get it quick. See? He's--" + +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. + +"Gee! I'm glad." + +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. + +"Gouge! Gouge!" + +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. + +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. + +"The darn fool! Why in hell don't he--?" + +Abe was interrupted by the excited voice of the man with the cant-hook. + +"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--!" + +"To kill!" + +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. + +"Say, the nerve! He'll break the life out o' the skunk," he exulted. +"The kid means crackin' his neck, sure as God!" + +"Ken he do it?" Tug had thrust forward. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What in hell!" demanded Luke, in the bitterness of disappointment. + +"Here, I'm--" + +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. + +"Say, quit, kid!" he cried hoarsely. + +The man's harsh tones were stirred out of their usual quiet. + +"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." + +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. + +"There's going to be no killing, Bull." Father Adam spoke quietly, +deliberately, but with cold decision. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +But the priestly figure, with purpose no less, instantly barred the way. + +"Quit," he cried sharply. "What I say, goes." + +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. + +"Get away. Let me get at him. Oh, God, I'll smash him! I'll--!" + +"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." + +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. + +Suddenly a great, bleeding hand was raised to his mane of fair hair, and +he smoothed it back off his forehead helplessly. + +"Why? Why?" he demanded. Then spasmodically: "Why should--he--get away +with it? He's handed me a dog's life He's--" + +He broke off. His emotions were overwhelming. + +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. + +"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." + +He waited for the obedience he demanded, and waiting he realised by the +quiescence of the man beside him that all danger had passed. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FATHER ADAM + + +The hush of the forest was profound. For all the proximity of the busy +lumber camp its calm was unbroken. + +It was a break in the endless canopy of foliage, a narrow rift in the +dark breadth of the shadowed woods. + +It was one of those infinitesimal veins through which flows the +life-blood of the forest. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Drink it," he said quietly. + +The blue eyes searched the dark face before them. In a moment excitement +had begun to pass. + +"What is it?" Bull demanded roughly. + +"It's brandy, and there's dope in it." + +"Dope?" + +"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." + +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. + +"It's as I said," he prompted. Then he added: "I'm not a--Caesar." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bull set the pannikin on the ground beside him. His smile had deepened. + +"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." + +"Good." + +The missionary removed his empty pipe, and Bull hastily dragged his +pouch from a pocket in his buckskin shirt. He held it out. + +"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. + +"This big talk," he said. "What's it about?" + +The missionary's preoccupation vanished. His eyes lit and he passed back +the pouch. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Now, why in hell should I tell you?" + +It was an irresistible challenge. The missionary nodded his approval. + +"Yes. Why--in hell--should you?" + +He, too, laughed. And his laugh miraculously lit up his ascetic +features. + +Instantly Bull flung out one bandaged hand in a sweeping gesture. + +"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--" + +Father Adam nodded, and his eyes lit. + +"Sure," was all he commented. + +"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." + +He laughed again. He was gazing in at himself and laughing at the +conceits he knew were real, and strong, and vital. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's the best story I've heard in years," he replied, a whimsical smile +lighting his dark eyes. + +"Is it?" + +Bull's smile was no less whimsical. + +"Yes. You've guts of iron, boy. And I've been looking years for just +such a man." + +"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." + +"I am." + +Father Adam was no longer smiling. The gravity of his expression gave +emphasis to his words. + +Bull was impressed. His laugh died out. + +"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." + +"You don't have to." + +"No?" + +They were regarding each other steadily. + +"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." + +"That's talk." + +Bull nodded appreciatively. The missionary let his gaze wander to the +pleasant sunlight through the doorway, where the flies and mosquitoes +were basking. + +"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." + +Bull emitted a low whistle. + +"An elegant slogan," he commented. + +He shifted his position. In his interest his pipe had gone out, and he +leant forward on his upturned box. + +"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." + +"Ah!" + +Bull's alert brain was prompt to seize upon the reservation. But denial +was instant. + +"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." + +Father Adam clipped his fingers in the air and his regretful eyes +conveyed the rest. Then, after a moment, he smiled. + +"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." + +"It has no relation to his--undertaking?" + +"None whatever. I know the whole thing. We were 'intimates.' I know his +whole life story. It was a disaster to shake any man." + +The missionary sighed profoundly. + +"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." + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +"Queer." + +A sort of pitying contempt shone in the younger man's eyes. + +"Queer?" Father Adam nodded. "It was--crazy." + +"It surely was." + +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. + +"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.'" + +As Father Adam finished, he looked into the earnest, wonder-filled eyes +of the other. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Bull cleared his throat. + +"The mill? Where is it?" He demanded. + +"Sachigo. Farewell Cove." + +"Sachigo! Why it's--" + +"The greatest groundwood mill in the world." + +There was a note of pride and triumph in the missionary's tone. But it +passed unheeded. Bull was struggling with recollection. + +"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--" + +Father Adam shook his head. + +"There's ten million dollars says it didn't. Ten millions you can handle +yourself." + +"Gee!" + +Bull drew a sharp breath. Strong, forceful as he was the figure was +overwhelming. + +"This--all this you're saying--offering? It's all real, true?" Bull +demanded at last. + +"All of it." + +"You want me to go and take possession of Sachigo, and ten--Say, where's +the catch?" + +"There's no 'catch'--anywhere." + +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. + +Father Adam held out the sealed letter. It was addressed to "Bat +Harker," at Sachigo Mill. + +"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?" + +There was a taunt in the challenge. It was calculated. There was +something else. The missionary's dark eyes were almost pleading. + +Bull seized the letter. He almost snatched it. + +"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." + +"Good!" + +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. + +"Now we'll eat," he said. And he stooped down and stirred the contents +of the pot. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BULL LEARNS CONDITIONS + + +The _Myra_ 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 _Lizzie_, had never risen +above her humble station. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +The grizzled skipper grinned responsively. + +"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." + +He turned away to the chart room, and a moment later the engine-room +telegraph chimed his orders to those below. + +Bull was left with his busy thoughts. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Hardy shook his head. + +"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." + +He shrugged expressively. Then he shook his head. + +"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 _Myra_ +and they scrapped the _Lizzie_, 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." + +The old seaman laughed and moved off again to his telegraphs. The +business of running in to the quayside was beginning in earnest. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"That all your baggage?" + +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. + +"Guess I've a trunk back there in the hold somewhere," Bull replied +indifferently, taking his interrogator for a quayside porter. + +"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?" + +"I've a letter for Mr. Bat Harker." + +The doubt in Bull's tone set a genuine grin in the other's eyes. + +"Sure. That's me. Bat Harker. Maybe you don't guess I look it. Don't +worry. Just pass it over." + +Bull groped in an inner pocket, surprise affording him some amusement. +His interest in Sachigo had abruptly focussed itself on this man. + +"I'm kind of sorry," he said. "I surely took you for some sort +of--porter." + +Bat laughed outright, and glanced down at his work-stained clothing. + +"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." + +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. + +"Shake," he cried. And there could be no doubting his good will. "Glad +to have you around, Mr. Bull Sternford." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Bat thrust the letter away and looked up. + +"Father Adam didn't write that letter for you? He just handed it out to +you to bring along?" + +"That's how," Bull nodded. + +"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." + +Bull laughed. + +"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?" + +"Sure. I knew you before you came along. We've a wireless out on the +headland." + +"I see. Father Adam warned you I was coming. He told you--" + +"The whole darn yarn. Sure." + +Bull laughed grimly. + +"That he guessed to shoot me to small meat if I didn't do as he said?" + +"If you didn't cut out homicide from your notions of--sport." + +"Yes. It was tough," Bull regretted. "But I'm glad--now." + +"Yep. Guess any straight sort of feller would feel that way--after." + +The lumberman's regret was unnoticed by the other. + +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. + +"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." + +Bat helped himself to a chew from a fragment of plug tobacco. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Not a thing." Bull was smiling confidently. + +Bat chuckled. His eyes were sparkling as he ruthlessly masticated his +tobacco. This man pleased him mightily. + +"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 _our +own_. 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!" + +Something of the lumberman's enthusiasm found reflection in Sternford's +eyes. + +"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?" + +"Sure--I see." + +Bat nodded approval. + +"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." + +The super lumber-jack turned again to the window with that fascination +that was almost pathetic. + +"And the rest?" + +Bull Sternford urged the other sharply, and Bat turned at once. + +"Canada's groundwood for the Canadian, inside the Empire," he shot at +him. + +The other nodded. + +"The world's market for the country that can and should supply it," he +replied. + +"The smashing of the darn Skandinavian ring," cried Bat, his deep-set +eyes alight. + +"And drive them--back over the sea." + +Bat suddenly leant across the table. + +"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." + +"It sure is." + +The mill manager sat back in his chair and chewed vigorously. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Guess my back teeth have got it," he said, with a smile. "You needn't +worry I'll let go." + +Bat drew a deep breath. He stood up and spat his mangled chew into the +cuspidore. + +"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." + +Bull had risen, and his height left him towering over the man across the +table. + +"Now for the mill," he cried, as their hands fell apart. "The _Myra_ +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." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DRAWING THE NET + + +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. + +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. + +"Yes," he said shortly. And it sounded more like the Teutonic, "Ja!" + +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. + +The door swung silently open. + +"Mr. Idepski!" The announcement was made in a carefully modulated tone. + +The agent passed into the great man's presence, slim, dark, confident. +Then the door closed without a sound. + +"Well?" + +There was no cordiality in the greeting. That was not Hellbeam's way +with a paid agent. + +Idepski walked across to the chair always waiting to receive a visitor +and sat down. + +"May I sit?" he inquired coolly, after the operation had been +performed. + +Hellbeam nodded. + +"Well?" he repeated. + +The agent laid his hat on the ornate desk, and removed his gloves with +care and deliberation. + +"I'm just back from Sachigo," he said. + +"Hah!" + +The financier settled himself more comfortably in his chair, and +returned his cigar to his gross mouth. + +"Tell me," he demanded. + +"Easy. Things are moving our way." + +The dark eyes glanced over the table for the gold cigarette box that +always stood there. + +"Help yourself," the banker ordered rather than invited. + +Idepski needed no second bidding. + +"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." + +"And Standing?" + +But Idepski was not to be deflected from his purpose. + +"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." + +For once the man's smile reached his eyes. + +"What's his position--in Sachigo?" Hellbeam demanded. + +"Right on top of the business side of it." + +"A financial man?" + +The banker's interest was obviously stirred. But Idepski shook his dark +head. + +"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." + +The agent flung away his cigarette and helped himself afresh. + +"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?" + +Idepski's smiling interrogation was full of satisfaction. + +"Go on." The watchful eyes of the financier seemed to have narrowed. + +"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--" + +Idepski broke off, pondering. He flicked his cigarette ash without +regard for the carpet. + +Hellbeam stirred in his chair impatiently. His lips seemed to become +more prominent. His small eyes seemed to become smaller. + +"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?" + +The financier's undisguised contempt left the agent apparently +undisturbed. + +"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." + +A sardonic light crept into Hellbeam's eyes as he listened to the final +assurance. + +"So," he ejaculated with a nod. + +The agent rose to go. + +"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." + +Hellbeam sucked his cigar and removed it from his lips. + +"Changed? How?" he demanded, without suspicion. + +"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 _into_ the sea.'" + +The financier nodded. His armour was impenetrable. + +"The Germans said much," he said. + +"That's all right, these folks aren't Germans," came the prompt retort, +as Idepski picked up his hat and gloves. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PROGRESS OF NANCY + + +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. + +"Hullo! Yes?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +attache case. A moment later she pressed the bell push on the desk. + +Her summons was promptly answered by a slim figured girl, with fair +hair, and "jumpered" in the latest style. + +"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?" + +"It's being checked right now." + +"Well, speed them up. You can send it up directly it's through. Mr. +Peterman is needing it." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Nancy smiled as she took the chair beside the desk which was usually +assigned to her in her intercourse with her chief. + +"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." + +Elas Peterman shook his head. + +"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." + +He went on writing, smiling at his own cynicism. + +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. + +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. + +The man blotted and folded his letter. He enclosed and sealed it. He +even addressed it himself. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +With a quick movement she crossed her knees and leant forward. She +smiled in response. + +"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." + +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. + +"Do the reports bear out those facts?" + +His question was sharp, and Nancy realised she had done well. + +She shook her head. + +"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." + +"How?" + +Again the girl's expressive shrug. + +"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." + +"What's that?" + +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. + +"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." + +The man had no responsive smile. He shook his head. + +"That's what it isn't, my dear," he said. + +For the time the girl's beauty, her personality were quite forgotten. +Peterman was absorbed. + +"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." + +The man broke off. His serious eyes remained steadily regarding the +girl's interested face. + +"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 _better_ 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." + +Something of the girl's joy had passed in face of the man's statement. + +"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--" + +"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?" + +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. + +"I don't know--. How do you mean?" she demanded awkwardly. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +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. + +"Oh! What's that? Who? Hellbeam? Oh. Sure. Yes. Send him right up. Don't +keep him waiting. Right up now. Yes." + +He thrust up the instrument and sat back in his chair. + +"Curse the man!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, don't worry with the reports. You've told me the things that +matter." + +The man's irritation was as swift as it was violent. But it passed as +quickly as it came. He laughed. + +"That's all right, my dear. Be off now. I'll let you know about things +this afternoon." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +The financier drove straight to the object of his visit. + +"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. + +Elas nodded. He was startled, but his powers of dissimulation were +profound. + +"I understand," he said. "They have been approached?" + +Hellbeam stirred his bulk in the chair Nancy had so recently occupied. +It was a movement of irritation. + +"That is for you. You represent Skandinavia. I--I say this thing. I the +money find." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"It does not matter. I say buy." + +The tone, the snapping of the man's eyes forbade further probing in this +direction. He lit his cigar. + +"It will need careful handling," ventured Peterman. + +Hellbeam snorted. + +"It careful handling always needs. Eh?" + +"Surely. I was thinking." + +"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." + +Elas shook his head-- + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"A--woman--for this thing? You crazy are!" + +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. + +"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." + +Peterman's explanation caught the humour of his countryman. The bulk of +the visitor shook under a suppressed laugh. + +"Well," he retorted, "I do not go. This woman. A good-looker, eh? She is +pleasant--to men? Where is she? Who is she?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Send for her," he said sharply. + +Elas reached the telephone and rang down. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"These are the papers, Mr. Peterman." + +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. + +"Thank you." Elas glanced down at the neatly bound script. + +"It's all complete?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Will you come to me after lunch?" he said pleasantly. + +"I want to go into the details of that trip I explained to you. You must +get away as soon as possible." + +"Directly after lunch?" + +"Yes. Say three o'clock." + +"Very well." + +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. + +"This yours is, I think," he said heavily, while his eyes searched those +depths of hazel he had missed before. + +The girl smiled as she gazed at the beautiful pen. She shook her head. + +"No," she said. "I never possessed anything so beautiful in my life." + +"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?" + +The manager was prompt to take his cue. + +"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." + +The girl smiled from one to the other. + +"Thanks ever so much," she said, with frank pleasure. "I'll keep it till +we find the owner. It's a lovely thing." + +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. + +"Well?" + +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. + +The great man laughed. It was a curious, unpleasant laugh. His heavy +cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered curiously. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LONELY FIGURE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +She pointed with one gauntleted hand, stirred to an impulse she could +not deny. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +She was gravely impressed by the things she saw, by the men she met. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Then her smile suddenly vanished. The shrewd gaze of commercial interest +replaced it. + +"But these Labrador folk?" she demanded. "Is that stuff just--hearsay?" + +The man shook his head. He was feeling easier. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +The lumber boss laughed shortly, roughly, and raised an arm, pointing as +he turned a grinning face to the girl. + +"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." + +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. + +"Who is he? That man?" she demanded abruptly. + +Laval laughed. + +"Why, Father Adam," he replied. There was a curious softening in his +harsh voice, which brought the girl's eyes swiftly back to him. + +"Father Adam? A priest?" she questioned. + +Laval shook his head. He had turned again, regarding the stranger. His +face was hidden from the searching eyes of the girl. + +"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." + +"How?" + +Nancy's interest was consuming. + +"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." + +The girl moved away from her support. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"And you are--Father Adam?" she asked. + +The man's gaze came quickly back. + +"That's how I'm known. It--was kind of you to come along over." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"No. That's how I feel about the boys--he so condemned." + +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. + +"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." + +The girl snatched at the invitation. + +"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?" + +"It's only a few yards. You'd best follow me." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You pull out? Where to?" + +"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." + +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. + +She nodded. + +"You mean they--always want help?" + +"Sure. Same as we all do." + +Father Adam sipped his coffee appreciatively. + +"But tell me," he said. "It's kind of new the Skandinavia sending a +woman along up here. It's your first trip?" + +Nancy set her cup down. + +"Yes." + +"They're a great firm," Father Adam went on, reflectively. "I mean +the--extent of their operations." + +Nancy smiled. + +"I like the distinction. Yes, they're big. You don't like +their--methods?" + +It was the man's turn for a smiling retort. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Do you?" + +Like a shot the challenge came, and Nancy found herself replying almost +before she was aware of it. + +"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?" + +"Surely," the man concurred. "But your coffee. It's getting cold," he +added. + +Nancy hastily picked up her cup. + +"Why am I telling you all this?" she laughed. "We were going to talk of +the--boys." + +"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." + +"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." + +"No." + +Father Adam set down his empty cup, and sat with his arms resting on his +parted knees. His hands were clasped. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +At the mention of Sachigo, Nancy's eyes widened. Then she laughed. It +was a laugh of real amusement. + +"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?" + +"Oh, he's a big, strong man, as ready to laugh as to fight." + +Father Adam smiled, and stooped over the fire to push the attenuated +sticks of it together. + +"May I ask why you're going to Sachigo?" he asked, without looking up. + +Just for a moment Nancy hesitated. Then she laughed happily. + +"I don't see why you shouldn't," she cried. "There's no secret. +Skandinavia intends to buy him, or crush him." + +The man sat up. + +"And you--a girl--are the emissary?" + +Incredulity robbed the man of the even calmness of' his manner. + +"Yes. Why not?" + +The challenge in the girls's eyes was unmistakable. + +"You won't buy him," Father Adam said quietly. "And you certainly won't +crush him." + +"Because I'm a girl?" + +"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." + +"This man will crush Skandinavia?" + +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. + +"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." + +"I wonder?" Nancy rose from her chair. + +The man rose also. + +"I think so," he said, very decidedly. + +The girl laughed. + +"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." + +Father Adam was holding the small gauntleted hand, and he seemed loth to +release it. His eyes were very gentle, very earnest. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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: + + MR. BULL STERNFORD, + Sachigo, Farewell Cove, + Labrador. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SKANDINAVIA MOVES + + +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. + +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. + +"It's one big notion," Bat said, at last. Then he added doubtfully. "It +comes mighty nigh being too big." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +Skert flung out his hand in a comprehensive gesture. + +"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?" + +Bat grinned at the heated disgust in the man's tone. + +"Sounds like eatin' pie," he retorted aggravatingly. "The cost? The +labour? Time? You got those things?" + +"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." + +"No." Bat's eyes refused seriousness. + +"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." + +There was no pretence of patience in Skert Lawton. He had looked for +appreciation and only found doubt. He moved off. + +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. + +They moved off together. + +"That's all right, Skert," he said kindly. "You've done one big thing. +An' it's the thing Bull and I want--" + +"Then why in hell didn't you say it instead of talking--notions?" + +For all the sharpness of his retort, Skert was mollified. Bat shook his +head and a shrewd light twinkled in his eyes. + +"You're a pretty bright boy, Skert," he said. "But you're brightest when +you're riled." + +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. + +They crossed the light footbridge over the "cut in" from the river, and +moved along down the main highway of the northern shore. + +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. + +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. + +Bat watched interestedly. + +"They seem mighty keen for their new playground," he said at last, with +a quick nod in the direction of the recreation house. + +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. + +"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." + +"How? I don't get you?" + +There was no humour in Bat's eyes now. + +"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." + +"And the addresses. What are they mostly? On the work? The trade they're +working at?" + +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. + +"Work? Not on your life! Socialism, Communism--Revolution!" + +Bat spat out a stream of tobacco juice. He was startled. + +"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--" + +"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." + +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. + +"The enemy of the world, of more particularly the worker is +the--CAPITALIST!" + +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. + +"Well?" he demanded, in a tone of biting triumph. + +They had reached the window at the psychological moment. Nothing could +have suited his purpose better. + +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. + +"The lousy swine!" he cried. "I'll close that place sure as--hell." + +Skert shook his head as they walked on. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bull promptly fended any storm that might possibly be brewing. He held +up his telegram and his eyes were smiling. + +"The Skandinavia's on the move," he cried. And Bat recognised the battle +note in the tone. + +"How?" + +Bull flung the message across the desk. + +"The Skandinavia's representative is arriving on the _Myra_," he said. +Then he added, "Elas Peterman says so." + +"What for?" + +Bat had picked up the message and stood reading it. + +The other searched amongst his papers. + +"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." + +For the moment the affairs down at the recreation room were forgotten, +and Bat contented himself with the interest of the moment. + +"How?" he demanded again in his sharp way. + +Bull laughed. + +"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'." + +Bull waited while the other perused both letters. Then, as Bat looked up +questioningly, he went on: + +"That telegram got here half an hour back," he said. Then he shrugged. +"The woman's on the _Myra_, and the vessel's been sighted off the +headland. She'll be along in two hours." + +"And what're you doin' about it?" + +Bat's eyes were searching. Perhaps Father Adam's letter had told him +something it had failed to tell the other. + +"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." + +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. + +"Keep 'em guessin'," he said. "It'll worry 'em--that way." + +Then he passed the letters back, and dropped into the chair that was +always his. + +"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." + +Bull's lightness passed. + +"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." + +Bat nodded. + +"You'll go along down an' meet her?" + +"No." Bull shook his head decidedly. "You will." + +Bat's eyes twinkled with a better humour than they had hitherto +displayed. + +"Why--me?" + +"She comes from the Skandinavia. Guess Skandinavia would fancy me +meeting their representative at the quay--quite a lot." + +The argument met with Bat's entire approval. He pulled out a silver +timepiece and consulted it. + +"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." + +"How?" + +Bull's ejaculation was sharp. + +"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." + +"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." + +Bat's eyes snapped. + +"That's the kind of dope Skert Lawton's handed me," he protested. + +"And Skert's a wise guy," came the prompt retort. + +Quite suddenly Bat flung out his gnarled hands. + +"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'--" + +"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." + +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. + +"Guess I'll git goin'," Bat said shortly. Then he glanced out of the +window, where he could plainly see the stream of the _Myra's_ 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." + +With this parting shot he hurried from the room, and Bull fancied he +detected the sound of a chuckle as the man departed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AN AFFAIR OF OUTPOSTS + + +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 _Myra_ +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. + +"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? + +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. + +"It's a mighty elegant place," the seaman said at last. + +The girl nodded. Then she smiled. + +"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. + +Captain Hardy laughed. + +"You've to see the folks who've done it all," he replied. "And--there's +one of 'em." + +He indicated the squat figure of Bat Harker leaning against some bales +piled on the quay. Nancy turned in that direction. + +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. + +"Is he the--owner? Is he--Mr. Sternford?" Her questions came in a hushed +tone that was almost awed. + +"No. That's Bat--Bat Harker. He's mill-boss." + +"I see." There was relief in Nancy's tone. But it passed as the seaman +continued. + +"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 _Myra_." + +The gangway clattered out on to the quay, and the man moved toward it. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +The ship-master had hurried away. + +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-- + +"Miss--Nancy McDonald?" + +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. + +"You're the lady representing the--Skandinavia?" he added. + +"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." + +Bat raked thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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--" + +"Come right along. I'm here for just that purpose." + +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. + +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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +Bat had taken his departure. He had witnessed the meeting of Nancy with +this protege 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The manner of it sent convention, caution, business pose, scattering to +the winds. The girl laughed and yielded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"But I hadn't." + +"No." + +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. + +"Why did you say that?" Nancy asked a moment later. + +Bull spread out his great hands. + +"The Skandinavia don't usually let folks forget they're behind them." + +"Now that's just too bad. It--it isn't generous," the girl said half +seriously. + +"Isn't it?" + +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. + +"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." + +His smile had gone. He was simply serious. This man had worked for her +people, and Nancy felt he was entitled to his opinion. + +"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." + +It was all said spontaneously. And the pleasure it gave was obvious in +the man's eyes. He nodded. + +"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." + +Nancy's pretty eyes were mildly searching. + +"You're the head of Sachigo," she suggested. + +Bull's eyes lit. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I think I do." + +Bull stood up from his chair and passed round his desk. + +"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 _Myra_ and she sails to-morrow, sundown. That means you'll stay a +night in Sachigo--" + +"I'm stopping on the vessel. It's all fixed." + +Bull sat down at his desk. + +"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 +_Myra_ 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?" + +Nancy smiled delightedly. + +"You couldn't drive me out of Sachigo till I've peeked into all your +secrets down there," she said. + +Bull leant forward with his arms outspread across the desk. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes. A business arrangement." + +The girl's relief was almost pathetic. Bull smiled. + +"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 _Myra_ to-morrow, and would be pleased to +death to talk this proposition right out in the offices of the +Skandinavia? Will it?" + +Nancy's eyes lit. Their hazel depths were wells of thankfulness. + +"Why, surely," she said. "You mean you're going to sail to-morrow?" + +Bull laughed and his laugh was infectious. The girl was smiling her +delight. + +"That's so. I need to cross the Atlantic. I wasn't going till the +_Myra's_ 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?" + +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. + +"Why, I'd just love to," she said, and stood up from her chair. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ON THE OPEN SEA + + +The _Myra_ 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. + +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. + +"It's me for the deck and a sheltered corner," he finally declared, +preparing to pass down the iron "companion." + +And the Captain grinned. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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 _Myra's_ saloon. Only one chair was occupied. For +the rest the deck was completely deserted. + +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. + +"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." + +Nancy smiled round from amidst her furs. + +"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." + +"Did I look so darn foolish?" + +Bull's eyes were smiling, and Nancy laughed again. + +"Just about as foolish as that fellow with the Rye whisky you were +talking about." + +The man settled himself comfortably. + +"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 _Myra's_ 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." + +Nancy listened delightedly to the man's pleasant fooling. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The girl sat up as the vessel lurched more heavily and flung their +chairs forward, straining dangerously. + +"How?" she questioned, glancing down anxiously at the moorings of her +chair. + +"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.'" + +The girl watched him light his cigar and her eyes were full of laughter. + +"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." + +Bull nodded. + +"That's fine," he cried. "But you've forgotten the other feller. The man +who 'chews.'" + +Nancy laughed happily. + +"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." + +Bull shook his head in mock despair. + +Nancy settled herself back in her chair. + +"That's fixed it. Guess you'll need to tell _me_ 'how.'" + +"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." + +"Yes. I seem to remember." + +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. + +"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." + +Nancy breathed a deep sigh. + +"My, but that's a big say." + +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. + +"I had visions of the--" + +"Scuppers?" Bull laughed. "Yes. That sea's one of the elegant things +Providence handed out for our happiness." + +Nancy nodded. + +"So man built things like the _Myra_, which, of course, was--foolish?" + +"An' set out sailing around in a winter storm off Labrador, instead of +basking in a pleasant tropical sun, which hasn't any--sense." + +Bull chuckled. + +"All because two mighty fine enterprises reckoned they'd common +interests which were jeopardised by rivalry, which was also--foolishly?" + +Bull's cigar ash tumbled into his lap. + +"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." + +Nancy shook her head. + +"I can't grant that," she cried quickly. + +"No?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +The girl was stirred. + +"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." + +Bull nodded as he watched the rising colour in the perfect cheeks. The +girl was very, very beautiful. + +"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 _was_ 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." + +Nancy sat up. + +"What are you doing? That great Sachigo!" she demanded challengingly. +"You're building, building one magnificent enterprise. Is there +happiness in it for you?" + +"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." + +The girl spread out her hands. + +"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?" + +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. + +He shook his head. + +"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?" + +"I've been through the Shagaunty." + +"Ah!" + +Bull Sternford's ejaculation was sharp. The problem of Father Adam's +letter was partially solved. + +"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:--" + +"But--" + +Bull flung his cigar away with vicious force. + +"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." + +"You're talking of Father Adam?" + +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. + +"Yes." Bull nodded. "Do you know him?" There was eagerness in his +question. + +"I met him on the Shagaunty." + +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. + +"It's getting worse," she said. + +Bull struck a match and covered it with both hands. + +"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. + +"He's just--splendid." + +The girl's enthusiasm told Bull something of the thing he wanted to +know. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hell!" he cried. And clambered down, bearing his unconscious burden +into the safety of the vessel's interior. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +IN QUEBEC + + +It was the final stage of her journey. Nancy was on her way up from the +docks, where she had left the staunch _Myra_ discharging her cargo. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"We can do better in the way of roads up at Sachigo," he said with a +belated smile. + +"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." + +She went on at random. + +"Do you always keep an automobile in Quebec?" she asked. + +Bull shook his head. + +"Hired," he said. + +"I see." + +Bull's eyes twinkled. + +"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." + +"And you're wasting all this time driving me up to my apartments?" Nancy +smiled. "I'm more indebted than I guessed." + +The man's denial was instant. + +"No," he said. "Your apartments are about two blocks from the Chateau. +But tell me, when'll you be through making your report to Peterman?" + +Nancy's depression passed. She was caught again in the interest of +everything. + +"Why, to-day--surely," she said. "You see, I want to get word to you +right away." + +Bull nodded. + +"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?" + +His manner gave no indication of the thing in his mind. + +"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." + +"You--haven't wired him already?" + +"No. The news was too good to send by wire." + +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. + +"It'll--astonish him, eh?" + +"Astonish him?" Nancy laughed. "That doesn't say a thing. I shouldn't +wonder if he refused to believe me." + +"And you'll get--promotion? Promotion--in Skandinavia?" + +The girl's eyes sobered on the instant. + +"Surely. Why not?" + +"Yes. Why not?" + +Just for a moment Nancy hesitated. Then her challenge came incisively. + +"What do you mean?" + +But the man smilingly shook his head. + +"You want promotion under Peterman--in the Skandinavia?" + +Nancy's eyes widened. + +"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." + +"Yes." Bull's smile had passed. He was thinking of Nancy's feeling of +gratitude towards the Swede--Peterman. + +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. + +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. + +The car had passed out of the old part of the city. And Nancy realised +it was ascending the great hill where the Chateau 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. + +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 _Myra_. She +remembered the embracing strength of them, and the way she had thrilled +under their pressure. It had been all very wonderful. + +"Say!" + +Bull Sternford had turned back from the window. He was smiling again. + +"Yes?" The girl was all eager attention. + +"I was wondering," Bull went on. "Maybe you'll' fancy hearing how things +are fixed after I see Peterman?" + +"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--" + +Nancy broke off to glance out of the window. The automobile had slowed. + +"Why, we're at my place," she cried. And the man fancied he detected +disappointment in her tone. + +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. + +Bull gazed up at the building. + +"You live here?" he asked at random. + +Nancy nodded. + +"Yes. It isn't much. But some day, maybe, I'll be able to afford a swell +apartment with--" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +She stood up and offered him the paper. + +"You won't forget it that way," she said, with a smile. + +"No." + +Bull glanced down at it. Then he looked again into the smiling eyes. + +"Thanks," he said. "I'll ring up." Then he held out a hand. "So long." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"The _Myra_? 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?" + +The man's eyes were alight with unpleasant derision. Peterman gave no +heed. The man's arrogance was all too familiar to him. + +"I've not heard--yet," he said. "She should be." + +"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!" + +Peterman smiled as was his duty. + +"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--" + +He broke off and picked up the telephone whose buzzer was rattling +impatiently on the desk. + +"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." + +Peterman set the 'phone down. His smiling eyes challenged those of the +man who a moment before had derided him. + +"Well?" + +Hellbeam's impatience was without scruple at any time. + +"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." + +The other's eyes snapped under the quiet satisfaction of the man's +reply. + +"Ah, she has. Does she say--yes?" + +Elas shook his dark head. + +"No. She's coming right over to tell me the whole story." + +"Now?" + +"In a while." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Hellbeam thrust his hat on his great head and strutted his way across to +the door. + +"These people must be bought. Or--" he said, pausing before passing +out-- + +"Smashed!" + +Hellbeam nodded. + +"It suits me better to--buy." + +"Yes. You want to come into touch with--the owner." + +"Yes." + +The gross figure disappeared through the doorway. + +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. + +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. + +He moved from the window and passed over to the desk, where he picked up +his 'phone and asked for a number. + +"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--" + +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. + + * * * * * + +Peterman was leaning back in his chair. Nancy was occupying the chair +beside the desk which had not known her for several months. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Nancy's smiling eyes were alight with delight. + +"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." + +"How?" + +The man's smiling eyes had changed. Their dark depths were full of sharp +enquiry. Nancy read only anxiety. + +"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--" + +"Sternford?" + +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. + +"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 _Myra_? He's +here--in Quebec?" + +It was Nancy's great moment. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You brought him down with you--to meet us?" he asked slowly. + +The girl nodded. + +"You did your work so well that he entertained the notion sufficiently +to come along down--with you?" + +"I--I--he's come down for that purpose." + +The man's eyes were searching. + +"Where is he?" + +"At the Chateau. He's waiting to hear from you for an appointment." + +Peterman flung himself back in his chair with a great laugh. Nancy +missed the mirthless tone of it. + +"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--" + +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. + +"How did you persuade him to ship down on the _Myra_ with you?" he +asked, after a moment's thought. + +"I didn't persuade him. He volunteered." + +"Volunteered?" + +"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." + +"I see. Keen set, eh? Keen set to talk with me?" + +The man shook his head. It was not denial. It was the questioning of +something left unspoken. + +The girl became anxious. Somehow a sense of disappointment was stirring. + +"Is there anything wrong?" she asked at last, as the man remained +silent. + +Peterman shook his head again. + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +Suddenly he came back to the desk. Nancy was relieved as she beheld the +familiar smiling kindness in his eyes. + +"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--" + +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. + +"Why, say--" she began. + +The man had seized the delicate tapering fingers and held them warmly in +the palms of both of his. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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 _Myra_. We were +battered and beaten almost to death. I feel as if I needed sleep for a +week." + +The man released her hand lingeringly. His disappointment was intense, +but he smiled. + +"Why, sure," he said, "if you feel that way. I hadn't thought." + +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." + +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. + +"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--" + +The man cut her short. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +DRAWN SWORDS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sternford, sir?" he asked curtly. + +His victim turned. + +"Yes." + +"Wanted on the 'phone, sir." + +The boy was gone on the run. He had hunted his quarry down. There were +still fresh victories to be achieved. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +He stood for a moment after replacing the receiver. Then, becoming aware +of another wanting to use the instrument, he moved away. + +Returning to the smoking lounge he finished off his correspondence and +took possession of one of the couches and lit a cigar. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He hurried away in search of his heavy winter overcoat. + + * * * * * + +Elas Peterman looked up as the door opened to admit his visitor. His +first impression startled him not a little. + +It was the first time he had encountered the man from Sachigo. + +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. + +"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. + +"It's queer we've never met before," Bull said, leaning back in his +chair. + +Peterman laughed. He pushed a large box of cigars close to the visitor's +hand. + +"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?" + +Bull helped himself with a laugh that was about as real as the other's. + +"The pipe of--peace, eh?" he said. + +"That's how I hope," Peterman replied. + +Bull nodded as he lit his cigar. + +"Most of us hope for peace, and do our best to aggravate war. That so?" + +"It's damn fool human nature." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Peterman laughed. + +"Sure," he said. "And these fool criminals? Is there need for them to +fall out?" + +"None." + +"That's how we of the Skandinavia feel. That's the notion always in my +mind. Say--" + +"Yep?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"What's the price you set on your enterprise up at Labrador?" he said. + +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. + +"If you'll tell me the price you set on the whole of the Skandinavia, +I'll talk." + +"What d'you mean?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I didn't invite you here to sell you--the Skandinavia," Peterman +blustered, giving way to anger he could not restrain. + +"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." + +There was a dangerous light in Bull's eyes levelled so steadily on the +angry face of the Swede. + +"Then--it's war?" + +Bull shrugged at the challenge. + +"I'm quite indifferent," he said coldly. + +There was a moment of tense silence. Then the Swede smiled. + +"You're ready then to let the fool public benefit at your expense?" + +"No." A smile of real humor flashed in Bull's eyes. "At yours." + +"You mean--you think to--smash us?" + +"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." + +Bull rose abruptly from his chair. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AT THE CHATEAU + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In the midst of using it she set it down with a feeling of sudden panic. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +And then those days on the _Myra_. 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. + +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? + +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. + +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 +_Myra_. 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-- + +She pulled herself up and seized the pretty beaded vanity bag lying +ready to her hand. Then the telephone rang. + +It was the cab which the porter had ordered, and she hastily switched +off the lights. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"You've settled with Mr. Peterman?" + +"Roughly." + +The man's eyes were shining with a smile of keen enjoyment. + +Nancy experienced a thrill of added excitement as she disposed of her +last oyster. + +"I haven't a right to butt in asking too many questions," she suggested. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"As amiable as a tame--shark." + +"That's pretty fierce." + +Bull shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"You mean he figures to have you join up with the Skandinavia?" + +Bull shook his head as the waiter set the next course on the table. + +"No. He guesses the Skandinavia can buy me." + +"I--see." + +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. + +"I told him it couldn't. I pointed out if there was any buying to be +done I figgered to do it." + +"You mean you would buy up--the Skandinavia?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"But the Skandinavia's no--sickly kid." + +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. + +"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?" + +Bull's smile still remained. There was no shadow of change in it. But +his questions came in headlong succession. + +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. + +"My approval isn't of any concern. I knew that was the Skandinavia's +purpose when I came to you." + +"And you called it a business arrangement?" + +"No. You did." + +The man broke into a laugh. It was a laugh of sheer amusement. + +"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." + +The girl nodded. + +"You were very good to me," she said. "You saw I was going to flounder, +and you took pity on me." + +Bull's denial was prompt. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Yes," she said simply. "I think I know all there is to know about the +position." + +She hesitated again. Then she went on in a fashion that displayed the +effort her words were costing. + +"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--" + +"We'd be doing the thing I'm out to stop--if it costs me all I have or +am in this world." + +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. + +"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." + +Then his manner changed again, and his passionate moment became lost in +a great laugh. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"Friend Peterman," he said. + +Nancy made a pretence of eating. + +"Yes," she said, without raising her eyes. + +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. + +"Does it matter?" he asked very quietly. + +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. + +"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." + +"Do you often dine with him?" + +The man had no smile in response, and his question came swiftly. + +"I've never dined with him." + +Bull sat back. His eyes were smiling. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DEEPENING WATERS + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As it was she snatched at the relief his smile inspired. + +The man laughingly shook his head as the girl approached. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +The man came back to his desk, and indicated the empty chair beside it. + +"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?" + +Nancy sighed her relief. Her last cloud had passed away. + +"Oh, yes," she began at once. "I do want to tell you. You see I think +it's all-important." + +"Yes." + +The man's smile was unchanged. But there was a dryness in his +monosyllable that only Nancy could have missed. + +"Mr. Sternford 'phoned me after his interview with you." + +"He had your 'phone number?" + +"Surely, I gave him that before he left me after driving up from the +docks." + +"I see. Of course. You drove up together after landing. I forgot." + +Nancy laughed. + +"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." + +"And you heard?" + +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. + +"Yes. He told me." + +"And--?" + +"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." + +"What's that?" + +"Why he's as ready to fight as to laugh." + +"Who says that?" + +"That's the way they speak of him." + +"Who speaks that way?" + +Nancy laughed. + +"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." + +Peterman nodded. + +"And you guess he can be handled?" + +"I think so." Nancy spread out her hands. "Oh, it's not for me to talk +this way to you, Mr. Peterman, but--but--" + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"Then you mean to--smash him?" + +"Just as sure as it's started to snow right now," the man exclaimed, +pointing at the window. + +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. + +"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--?" + +Peterman's eyes suddenly hardened. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE PLANNING OF CAMPAIGN + + +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. + +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. + +"So," he said. "We do not buy him. No. We smash him." + +There was obvious satisfaction that the more peaceful process was to be +set aside. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"The limit. Go on." + +Peterman nodded. + +"There's no commercial enterprise that can stand idleness. His work must +stop. His--" + +"That is the A.B.C. of it." + +There was sharp impatience in the financier's biting tone. + +"Just so. It is the A.B.C. of it." + +Hellbeam set back in his chair. He clasped his hands across his stomach. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +He took the chair usually occupied by his visitors. + +"You will pay ha'f a million dollars for this thing?" he demanded, to +re-assure himself. + +Self-satisfaction looked out of the eyes of the man behind the desk. + +"More--if necessary." + +"By God! You must hate this boy, Sternford." + +Peterman's feelings had broken from under his control. + +"Sternford? Psha! It is not Sternford. No." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +He held up one hand and opened his fingers. Then he slowly closed them +with a curious expressive movement of ruthless destruction. + +"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." + +"And you hate--that way?" + +A feeling of sudden fear had taken possession of Peterman. This gross, +squat man had become something terrible to him. + +"Ja!" + +The Teuton leapt in the furious emphasis hurled. + +"Oh, ja! I hate. I tell you of it." + +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. + +"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." + +The narrowed eyes came back to the face of the man beside the desk. +There was a sharp intake of breath. + +"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." + +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. + +"But you would have--bought this Sachigo?" he said, said. + +Hellbeam's eyes were again turned to the window. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Father Adam?" The derision in the financier's eyes had deepened. +"That's the man that other fool talks of." + +Peterman shrugged. The sting in the financier's words stirred him to +resentment. + +"I don't know about that. Anyway--" + +"How is it you say? Get busy. Yes." + +Hellbeam rose stiffly from his seat and picked up his hat. He was quite +untouched by the other's change of tone. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SAILING OF THE _Empress_ + + +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. + + "HARKER, SACHIGO, LABRADOR. + + "Sailing to-morrow. War. Pass mill through hair sieve. Clear all + refuse. Watch fireguard. Look around. Plums otherwise ripe. + Return earliest date. + + "BULL." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"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." + +The challenge was full of pleasant, even delighted greeting. And Bull +snatched his cigar from his lips and bared his head. + +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. + +He shook his head. + +"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?" + +Nancy's eyes sobered. And without their smile Bull thought he detected a +cloud of trouble in them. + +"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." + +"You mean you avoided me--deliberately?" + +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. + +"Yes." + +The simple downrightness of the admission might have disconcerted +another. But its honesty and lack of subterfuge only pleased the man. + +"That's what I thought. It's this business standing between your folk +and me?" + +Nancy nodded. + +"Yes. We are enemies." + +"That's so," Bull agreed. "That's the pity of it. If you were on my +side--" + +"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." + +Bull laughed. He was in the mood to laugh--now. + +"It sounds fine. Say--" + +"Are you laughing at me?" + +"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." + +The girl drew a deep breath, and, to the man, it seemed in the nature of +relief. A great anxiety for her stirred him. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"Yes." + +Nancy's gaze was turned seawards. + +"And you sail--to-morrow? When do you return?" she asked a moment later. + +Bull smilingly shook his head. + +"We are at war," he said. + +The girl's eyes came back. She, too, smiled. + +"I forgot." Then she added: "You go by the _Empress_?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +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. + +He drew a deep breath. + +"Yes. I sail on the _Empress_." + +"And you are glad--of course?" + +Bull laughed. + +"Some ways." + +"You mean--?" + +"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." + +They moved down the promenade together. + +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. + +"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." + +She held out her hand. It was bare, and soft, and warm, as the man took +possession of it. + +"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." + +For all the feeling of the moment Nancy laughed. + +"It sounds crazy," she exclaimed. + +"It is crazy. But so is the whole thing." + +"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." + +Their hands fell apart. Bull had held that hand, so soft and warm and +appealing to him, till he dared hold it no longer. + +"Thanks," he said. "Good-bye. I can set out with a good heart--now." + + * * * * * + +It was again the luncheon hour. It was also the hour at which the +_Empress_ 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 _Empress_ 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. + +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. + +And so she had hurried over her mid-day meal, lest she should miss the +sight of the _Empress_ steaming out, with Bull Sternford aboard. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ON BOARD THE _Empress_ + + +It was the second day out and the passengers on the _Empress_ had +already settled down to their week's trip. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"Guess we'll git this sort of stuff all the way." + +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. + +"Maybe," he admitted without interest. + +"Sure we will. It's always that way with the _Empress's_ last trip of +the season from Quebec. I most generally make it for that reason. Your +first trip?" + +"No." + +"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?" + +Bull had no alternative. The man was there to talk, and his desire to do +so was frankly displayed. + +"I won't smoke, thanks," Bull replied without offense. "It's too near +dinner." + +"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." + +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. + +Bull laughed as the cigarette was finally lighted. + +"That's better," he said. "Now--you can inhale." + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"But not out West? British Columbia?" + +"No. Only Quebec." + +The stranger shook his head disparagingly. + +"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?" + +Bull shook his head. + +"I'm not--" + +"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--" + +"Oh, my name's Sternford." + +Mr. Cantor's face beamed. + +"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--" + +"Sachigo?" + +"That's it, sure. Guess I'd lost the name a moment." + +Bull nodded amusedly. + +"Yes. That's where I hail from. And, as you say, there's big stuff up +there, too." + +"Big? Why I'd say. Well, now! That's fine! I've heard tell big yarns of +Labrador. It's just great meeting--" + +The man broke off at the sound of the first blast of the dressing bugle. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Yes." + +Bull nodded over the latter portion of his third cigar which Mr. Cantor +had not permitted him to escape. + +"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." + +"Who was that?" Bull had lost interest, but the man invited the enquiry. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?'" + +"That's the thing he did." + +"Ah, I thought so." Bull's smile had passed. "Where did you meet him?" +he went on after a moment. + +"On the Shagaunty. The Skandinavia Corporation territory. He told me +he'd just come along through from Labrador." + +"Oh, yes?" + +Mr. Cantor laughed. + +"Why he took me to his crazy shanty and handed me coffee. And he talked. +My, how he talked." + +"Did he know you were--prospecting?" + +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. + +"Yes. I told him." + +Cantor's dark eyes were questioning. As Bull remained silent he went on. + +"Why? Is he interested for the Skandinavia to keep folk out?" + +Bull shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Cantor nodded. + +"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." + +Bull was prompt in his denial. + +"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." + +"How's that?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"We shouldn't need to. He'd be there." + +The lumberman stirred, and persisted with curious interest. + +"But he must have a place where you folks can get him? This coming and +going. It's fine--but--" + +Bull stood up and stretched himself. + +"Oh, he's got a home, all right. It's the forests." + +Mr. Cantor threw up his hands and laughed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +The man's dark, foreign-looking features had lost every semblance of +their recent good-natured enthusiasm. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE LONELY FIGURE AGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He turned away. Everything was to his satisfaction. So his tall, +fur-clad figure passed in amongst the dwarf trees. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A blue-eyed, beardless youth shifted his gaze to the dark face directly +opposite him beyond the fire. + +"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." + +The dark man across the fire nodded. + +"Did he hand a squeal before--he went?" + +"Not a word. Hadn't time. Peter here didn't ast a thing either." + +The youth laughed softly, and the man called Peter took up the story. + +"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'." + +Bob laughed + +"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." + +"Would they be all one feller? The feller that got it?" The dark man's +eyes were serious. His tone was troubled. + +Peter shook his head. + +"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." + +"What sort of things?" + +The dark man spoke sharply. Peter's reply came after profound +deliberation. + +"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." + +"Yes." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The man across the fire nodded. + +"I'm going down," he said. + +"I'm glad." Peter's acknowledgment came with an air of relief. "I'll +hand you a written report before you pull out." + +"It's best that way." + +The fire was leaping again. Its beneficent warmth was very pleasant. Bob +turned his eyes skyward. + +"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." + +"Yes. I wouldn't have made here. I wouldn't have made anywhere if that +had happened." The dark man laughed. + +Peter shook his head. + +"No. You took a big chance." + +"I had to." + +"So?" + +"Yes. I had to get through. There's a big piece of trouble coming." + +"To do with these fires?" + +"I guess so." + +"I see." + +Peter's comment was full of understanding. After awhile the other looked +up. + +"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?" + +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. + +"So long," he said. And he moved off to his sleeping bag which was laid +out to receive his tired body. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +There was nothing to be done. He could only wait. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +The tall man nodded. His dark eyes were smiling a cordiality no less +than the other's. + +"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?" + +"Bad." + +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. + +"Let's sit," he said. "It's cold--damnably cold." + +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. + +"Beat?" he said. + +"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." + +"No. You've got to get through quick." + +Both were holding outspread hands to the fire. Both were luxuriating in +the friendly warmth. + +"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." + +Jean looked up from the heart of the fire. + +"Trouble?" he enquired. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"You mean the outfit working it?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +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. + +Quite abruptly his hands parted and he stood up. Jean followed his +movements with anxious eyes. + +"You goin' down to talk to the boys?" he asked at last. + +The man nodded. + +"Yes. Right away. I'll do all I know." + +"They'll listen to you." + +The other smiled. + +"Yes. Till the spook comes back." + +Jean brushed the icicles from about his eyes. + +"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!" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +BULL STERNFORD'S VISION OF SUCCESS + + +"I'd say it's best story I've listened to since--since--Say, those +fellers are pretty big. They surely are." + +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. + +Bull's shining eyes were raised to his. + +"Big?" he echoed. "I tell you that feller, Leader, has the widest vision +of any man I know." + +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. + +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 +_Myra_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bull removed his pipe and gazed across the stove. + +"And now for your news, Bat," he said, like a man anticipating a +pleasant continuation of his own good news. + +Bat shook his head decidedly. + +"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." + +His twinkling eyes were full of kindly regard, for all the brusqueness +of his denial. And Bull smiled back his content. + +"Well, it's your 'hand' Bat," he said easily. "You'll play it your way." + +His eyes turned to the comforting stove again, as the howl of the storm +outside shook the framing of the house. + +Presently the other raised a pair of smiling eyes. + +"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?" + +Bull sat up and laughed. And his answer came on the instant. + +"Why, marry," he said. + +Bat nodded. + +"That's queer," he said. "I guessed you'd answer that way." + +"Why?" + +Bat folded his arms across his broad chest. + +"You're young," he replied. + +Bull laughed again. + +"Better say it," he cried. "An' darn foolish." + +"No, I hadn't that in mind. No, Bull. If I had your years I guess I'd +feel that way, too. I wonder--" + +"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--" + +"Red hair, an'--an' a pair of mighty pretty eyes?" + +"Sure." + +Bat nodded. A deep satisfaction stirred him. + +"I reckoned that way, ever since--Say, I'm glad." + +But Bull's mood had sobered. + +"She's in the enemy camp though," he demurred. + +"It'll hand you another scrap--haulin' her out." + +"Yes." + +Bat rose from his chair and stretched his trunk-like body. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +Bat hailed one of the electricians serving the machines. + +"Where's Mr. Lawton?" he shouted. + +"He went out. He ain't here," the man shouted back. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Bull nodded. + +"That's all right," he said. "Maybe he's held up down at the mill. He'll +get--" + +"Held up--nuthin'!" + +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. + +"Lawton's a pretty bright boy--" Bull began. But the other caught him up +roughly. + +"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--" + +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. + +Bat challenged him on the instant. + +"What's the trouble, boy?" he demanded in his uncompromising fashion. + +"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--" + +"I guessed something that way," Bat interrupted with ominous calm. He +turned to Bull, who was closely regarding his lieutenants. + +"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." + +Bull stood up. He laughed without the least mirth. + +"It's the Skandinavia," he said decidedly. "War's begun. I'm going right +down to that meeting." + +Bat leapt to his feet. + +"No," he said. "This is for Skert an' me--" + +"Is it?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Who's this?" Bull demanded. + +"One of my machine-minders. He's a good boy," the engineer explained. + +Bull nodded. + +"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?" + +"Quite a bunch." + +"Can we get them together?" + +"Sure." + +"Right. This is going to be the real thing. The sort of thing I'd rather +have it." + +He turned to Skert who stood by, watching the light of battle in his +chief's eyes. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 +_penstocks on the river will be cut so you can't repair them_. 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." + +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 _coup_ 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. _Their electrically-heated houses were without stoves in +which they could burn wood_. + +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. + +"Here!" + +Bull's voice rang out again, but he was interrupted. + +A man shouted at him from the back of the hall. + +"Who the hell are you, anyway? You ain't the guy owning these mills. We +know where you come from--" + +Like lightning Bull took him up. + +"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." + +He turned without waiting a second and passed through the back door by +which he had entered. And his men followed on his heels. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He leapt to his feet. Without a second thought he moved over to the door +and flung it wide. + +"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." + +He withdrew the gun from his coat pocket in explanation. Then he stood +aside. + +"Will you come right in?" + +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. + +Bull watched him with questioning eyes. Then he closed the door and his +visitor turned confronting him in the yellow lamplight. + +"I've made more than a hundred miles to get you to-night," Father Adam +said. + +Then he flung back the fur hood from his head, and ran a hand over his +long black hair, smoothing it thoughtfully. + +"Yes?" + +Bull's eyes were still questioning. + +"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." + +The other glanced round the pleasant office, and his eyes paused for a +moment at the chair at the desk. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE HOLD-UP + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Abe's powerful arms were folded as he leant on the counter. + +"Blew in about noon," he said. "Filled his belly with good hash an' sat +around since." + +"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." + +Abe shrugged. But the glance he flung at the man sitting at the far-off +table was without approval. + +"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'?" + +Porson laughed. There was no light in his hard eyes. + +"At a gait you couldn't change with a trail whip." + +The other nodded. + +'"That's how 'nigger' Pilling said. He guessed the cut was down by +fifty. What is it? A buck? Wages?" + +Porson's hand was fingering one of the guns in his pocket. His eyes were +snapping. + +"Curse 'em," he cried at last. "I just don't get it. They're goin' +slow." + +He pushed his empty glass at the suttler who promptly re-filled it. + +"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--" + +Porson drank down his liquor, and his glass hit the counter with angry +force. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Say, what's your bizness around here?" + +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. + +"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--" + +"You'll light right out of this camp with daylight to-morrow!" + +The tone of the camp-boss banished the last shadow of the pedlar's +cast-iron smile. + +"Oh, yes?" he said, his eyes hardening. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +Ole Porson's grim face was alight with a smile of genuine welcome, as he +stood surveying his visitor across the roaring stove. + +"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." + +Bull put his coloured handkerchief away, and removed the pea-jacket +which he had worn under his furs. + +"Don't worry," he said with apparent unconcern. "I can hand it you. +That's why I'm here." + +The camp-boss waited. He eyed his chief with no little anxiety. He had +looked for an angry outburst. + +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. + +"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." + +He spoke quietly without a sign of emotion. But the light in his hot +eyes was almost desperate. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Bull knocked out his pipe on the stove and gazed thoughtfully at the +streak of brilliant light under the edge of the front damper. + +"I've a notion there's an outfit of pedlars at work, as well as others," +he went on presently. + +The camp-boss nodded. + +"Sure," he said. + +Bull looked up. + +"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." + +The camp-boss spat into the stove. It was his one expression of disgust. + +Bull rose from his chair. + +"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." + +"You're goin' to talk to 'em--the boys?" Porson's eyes lit with a gleam +of satisfaction. "Can you--twist 'em?" + +Bull thrust a hand into his breast pocket and drew out a sealed packet. +He held it up before the other's questioning eyes. + +"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." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The dogs had been running for hours when Gouter's voice came sharply +back over his shoulder. + +"Dog!" he cried, in the laconic fashion habitual to him. + +Bull knelt up. His movement suggested the nervous strain he was +enduring. It was almost electrical. + +"Where?" he demanded, peering out into the shining night over the man's +furry shoulder. + +The half-breed raised a pointing whip ahead and to the south. + +"Sure," he said. "I hear him." + +Bull had heard nothing. Nothing but the hiss of the snow under their own +runners, and the whimper of their own dogs. + +"It wouldn't be a wolf or fox?" he demurred. + +The half-breed clucked his tongue. His vanity was outraged. + +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. + +"Hark!" + +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. + +"Man! Him speak with dog. Oh, yes." + +Gouter had turned. His beady black eyes were shining with a smile of +triumph into the white man's face. + +"By the forest?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Then in God's name swing over and run to head them off!" + +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. + +Bull wiped the icicles from about his mouth and nose. + +"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." + +"I get 'em." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I see dem," he exclaimed. And pointed almost abreast. "Dogs. +One--two--five. Yes. Two man. Now we get him sure." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There was a moment of silent contemplation. Then the injured man +struggled desperately to rise. + +"Sternford?" he ejaculated + +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. + +Bull stood up. The man's voice told him all he wanted to know. + +"Laval, eh?" he said quietly. "A second time. I didn't expect it. No." + +Then he laughed and turned away. And the sound of his laugh possessed +something terribly mocking in the night silence of the wilderness. + +He passed back to the sled. There had been two men in it. He had seen +that for himself. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was clad in a voluminous beaver coat. It was hooded, as was every man +who faced the fierce Labrador trail. But-- + +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. + +He flung himself on his knees, and tenderly supported the swaying +figure. + +"God in Heaven!" he cried. "Nancy! You?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ON THE HOME TRAIL + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, _murder at her bidding_! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You'll come right along and eat, Nancy?" + +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. + +"I--I--" she stammered. Then composure returned to her. "If you wish +it," she said submissively. "But I don't need food." + +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. + +He came a step nearer. + +"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 _Myra_ and in Quebec. I--" + +"Don't." + +The girl flung out her hands in a piteous appeal. And Bull recognised +the hysteria lying behind the movement. + +"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--" + +"Why, I thought it was Gouter." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I--I've tried to tell myself something of that," she said, with the +pathetic helplessness of a child. + +"Then try some more." + +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. + +"Oh, I wish--" she began. + +But she could get no further. Suddenly she buried her face in her hands, +and broke into a passion of weeping. + +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. + +Slowly the violence of the girl's grief subsided. And after a while she +turned to him and gazed at him through her tears. + +"I'm--I'm--" + +But Bull shook his head. + +"Come. Shall we go and eat?" + +He still retained his hold upon her arm. And as he spoke he led her +unresistingly away towards the camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Bat had received it at the office, and his manner had been +characteristic. + +"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." + +With the boy's departure he had lost no time in reading the ultimatum +the message contained. + + "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. + + "On behalf of the Soviet of the Workers, + + "LEO MURKO, + + "Chief Commissionary." + +At the finish of his reading Bat had looked up into the dark face of +Pete Loale who was standing by. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + + "The Order of the Soviet of the Workers will be enforced + forthwith. No mercy will be shown in the event of resistance." + +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. + +"That's all right," he said. "We're fixed for the scrap. Just come right +over." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Thinking of him now Bat remembered the other's final words, and the +memory stirred him deeply. + +"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." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +The man's grey eyes were smiling as they looked into the wide black eyes +so mildly encouraging. + +"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." + +The tall man nodded. + +"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?" + +"Nigh five years, Father." + +"And you got all--those things?" + +"Sure. More." + +Father Adam nodded. + +"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." + +"That's so, Father." + +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. + +"Poor little kids," he said. "Say, it's hell for them with heat cut +off." + +Again the tall man nodded as he followed the other's gaze. + +"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?" + +Michael shook his head. + +"I don't see I can. After all--" + +"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." + +Father Adam smiled as he drove his satire home. + +"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." + +Father Adam nodded. His dark eyes were alight with something more than +the smile shining in them. + +"Good," he said. "I shall be there." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +"Do you?" + +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. + +"Do you?" he cried again, as the startled leader stared stupidly at the +interrupter. + +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. + +"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--" + +The Bolshevist flung out a denouncing hand and bellowed in his seething +wrath: + +"Traitor! He is of the Cap--" + +But immediate uproar drowned his denunciation and a great voice shouted +in the din. + +"Let him speak." + +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. + +"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--" + +A shot rang out. The flame of a gun leapt somewhere at the back of the +platform, to be followed by complete, utter silence. + +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. + +Paralysis seemed to grip that dense-packed human throng. But it was only +for a second. Then the avalanche leapt for the abyss. + +"Father! Father Adam!" + +The cry went up seemingly from a thousand throats. And with a roar the +crowd surged forward. It hurled itself at the platform. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He stepped out into the snow and came over to the waiting dog train. + +"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--" + +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. + +"Get those dogs fixed, Gouter," he said. "Then come right along back +here. You'll need to gather fuel and set those stoves going." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"You are not going to keep me here, prisoner in--your house?" + +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. + +"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." + +Nancy inclined her head. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Look!" + +The girl had turned. Her eyes were wide with terror. She was pointing at +the window, and Bull hurried to her side. + +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. + +He stood there, held speechless by the thing he beheld. + +"What is it? What does it mean?" + +Panic drove the questions to the girl's lips. And she turned in an agony +of appeal to the man beside her. + +"It means the work of the Skandinavia has been well and truly done." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DAWN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + +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. + +Bat suddenly turned from his silent scrutiny. + +"He'll pull around? You think so?" he demanded. + +There was an appeal in his harsh voice such as Bull had never heard in +it before, and he looked up with a start. + +"That's how Jason reckoned," he said. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I wired Montreal," Bat said sharply. + +"Good." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Right on time," was the quick rejoinder. + +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. + +With the man's going Bull passed a hand back over his ample hair. + +"God!" he exclaimed wearily. "It's been a tough night." + +"Tough?" + +Bat's response spoke a whole world of feeling. He moved from his window +and flung himself into a chair. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"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." + +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. + +"You had a hell of a time up there," he said. + +Bull laughed. There was no mirth in his laugh. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +Again came the man's mirthless laugh. + +"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--" + +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. + +He moved swiftly across the room and flung open the door. + +"Will you come right in?" + +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. + +Bull moved aside. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +NANCY + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was amazing. It was overwhelming. It was even--terrible. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I'm--I'm glad," she said desperately. + +"Glad?" Bull was startled. + +The girl made a little involuntary movement. She averted her gaze to the +window through which the wintry sunlight was pouring. + +"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." + +Bull took a strong hold upon himself. + +"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." + +"Oh, I wish I could feel all that," Nancy exclaimed with an impulse +which a few moments before must have been impossible. + +"You can." Bull nodded. "You will." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +He nodded. Suddenly he turned back to her, and stood smiling down into +her anxious eyes. + +"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 +_Myra_ comes along up. And everything I can possibly arrange shall be +done for your happiness and comfort. When would you like to go?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"I wasn't thinking of that." + +"I knew that," Bull smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE COMING OF SPRING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Yep," he ejaculated. "It should be good for us." + +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. + +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. + +"Say, what in--? Feeling cold?" he demanded. + +Bull's hands were promptly withdrawn, and, in spite of his mood, a half +smile at his own expense lit his troubled eyes. + +"That's all right," he said. "It's on me, sure. I guess my head must be +full of those figures still." + +He returned to the window and stood with his back to his companion. Bat +watched him for some moments. + +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. + +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. + +He helped himself to a chew of tobacco and kicked a cuspidore within his +reach. + +"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." + +It was a sharp, matter-of-fact statement. He was telling of a human +killing, and there was no softening. + +Bull nodded. He glanced over his shoulder. + +"You mean--?" + +"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. + +"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." + +He spat accurately into the cuspidore. + +"Does the report hand you anything else?" Bull asked, without turning. +The other noticed the complete lack of real interest. He shrugged. + +"The camps are all in full cut. They're not a cord behind." + +Bat looked for a word, the lighting of an eye. There was none. And he +stirred in his chair, and exasperation drove him. + +"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'--" + +"Nancy McDonald will be sailing for Quebec." + +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. + +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. + +The lumberman's eyes twinkled. He had done the thing he desired. "An' +you don't want her to?" he said deliberately. + +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. + +"No," he said in simple denial. "If she goes it means the end of Sachigo +for me." + +"You reckon you'll quit?" + +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. + +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. + +Presently his gaze lost its abstraction and came again to the strong, +lined face of the older man. "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." + +"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?" + +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. + +Bull stirred restlessly. + +"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 _Myra_ 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--" + +"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." + +His eyes twinkled as he regarded the other's troubled face. + +"Is it?" + +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. + +"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." + +Bat's regard was unwavering before the other's angry eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +"But she's ambitious," he said. "And she isn't the sort of girl to take +that easily. No." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +NANCY'S DECISION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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 _Myra_, 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. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +The girl's responsive smile faded abruptly as she set the tray on the +table beside the chair. + +"When are you going to--pull your freight?" she asked, with a curious, +nervous abruptness. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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.'" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You know my story," she said. "You've heard it all from Mr. Sternford. +I know that. You told me so, didn't you?" + +The man inclined his dark head. + +"Yes," he said. "I know your story--all of it." + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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?" + +The man shook his head. + +"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?" + +"That's why I've come to you now." + +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. + +"You know, Father--" + +The man stirred in his chair. It was a movement of sudden restlessness +as if that appellation on her lips disturbed him. + +"--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?" + +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. + +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. + +When at last he spoke his words came slowly and were carefully +considered. + +"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." + +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. + +"Oh, thank you, Father--thank you." + +Again came the man's restless movement at the word "Father." He abruptly +leant forward and held his cup out for replenishment. + +"May I?" he asked. Then his smile broke out again. "But tell me," he +went on. "What have you done about the Skandinavia?" + +"Nothing." + +Nancy returned him his cup with an unsteady hand. + +"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." + +Father Adam sipped his tea. He was watching intently but unobtrusively +the transparent display of emotions which his words had conjured. + +"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--" + +"Wire." + +"Yes. I suppose I could--wire." + +"Sternford will have it sent for you." + +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. + +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. + +Father Adam set his cup down. + +"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?" + +Nancy inclined her head. + +"Yes. I'll go right away, just as soon as I've taken this tray back." + +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. + +"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--" + +Her voice broke and the man turned at once. He was smiling again. + +"Don't say a word, my dear. Not a word. Go and write that message, and +take it to Sternford. And then--why--" + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE MESSAGE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"A favour?" he laughed. "Why, I'm just glad." + +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. + +"What's the favour?" he asked simply, as Nancy remained silent. + +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. + +She drew a folded paper from the bosom of her frock. + +"Would you let them send it for me--wireless?" she asked timidly. +"It's--it's to Mr. Peterman." + +All Bull's desire to smile had passed. He nodded. + +"Yes," he said. "If you wish it. It shall be sent right off." + +His tone had suddenly lost its warmth. It seemed as if the mention of +Peterman's name had destroyed his goodwill. + +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. + +She drew a deep breath. + +"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." + +The paper was held out to him in an unsteady hand. Bull ignored it. He +shook his head. + +"No," he said. + +Nancy sprang to her feet. + +"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." + +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. + +Nancy turned away in desperation. She moved to depart. + +"I'm sorry," she said. And even in her trouble there was a coldness in +her tone no less than his. + +Bull choked down his feelings. + +"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." + +"Then you will read it?" The girl came back readily. + +"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?" + +He ran the fingers of one hand through his mane of hair and stood +smiling down into the girl's pretty eyes. + +"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--" + +He turned away and glanced out of window. Then his eyes came back +claimed by the magnetism which the girl exercised. + +"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 _Myra_ 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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"But I'm not going back," Nancy cried vehemently. + +Bull stared wide-eyed. + +"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." + +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. + +"Accept my resignation forthwith." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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--" + +"Not on your life!" + +The man's denial rang out with all the force of his virile nature. + +"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--?" + +Nancy's eyes were frankly raised to the passionate gaze which revealed +the depths of the man's great heart. + +"I have," she said in a low voice. "I've forgotten everything +but--but--you." + +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. + +"Why--that's just fine!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +LOST IN THE TWILIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +The man whom the forest world knew as Father Adam, but whom Bat knew as +Leslie Standing, shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +"Why didn't you show yourself? Why didn't you say?" + +Bat spoke fiercely in his exasperation. + +The missionary smiled. + +"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." + +"But he ken cut it," Bat cried, desperation finding expression in a +clenched, out-held fist. + +"Can he?" + +The missionary smiled confidently. And Bat suddenly flung out both +hands. + +"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--" + +Leslie Standing raised a protesting hand. His eyes were unsmiling. + +"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." + +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. + +"You've got me beat, Les," he growled. Then he spat in his disgust. + +The missionary nodded, and, with a gesture of the hand, he indicated the +hidden mills below them. + +"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." + +Bat inclined his stubborn head. He was still thinking of the dogs, and +the sled, and all they meant to him just now. + +"Does she know about her share in the mills?" he asked brusquely. + +The other shook his head. + +"Not yet. But I've sent word to Charlie Nisson. He'll be along up on the +_Myra_. 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?" + +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. + +Again came the missionary's quiet laugh. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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'--" + +"Will you tell 'em?" + +The hand was thrust further towards the lumberman so that he could no +longer ignore it. + +"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?" + +"Sure." + +Their hands fell apart. Bat's dropped to his side like leaden weights. +"So long," he said dully, as the other took his place in the sled. Then +he added, "So long, Les." + +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. + +"So long, Bat," he cried smilingly. And his farewell was instantly +followed by the sharp command to "mush." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh, yes?" + +The missionary smiled back into Idepski's derisive eyes. + +"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." + +"The coast?" + +The missionary was startled. + +"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." + +"Yes." + +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. + +"How do we travel?" he asked quietly. "You've shot up my leader." + +The other nodded. He understood the tone of complaint and regret in +which the trail man spoke of his dog. He grinned maliciously. + +"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." + +The prisoner turned to obey, but the agent changed his mind. He laughed. + +"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." + +"Yes, plumb up." + +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. + + +THE END + + + + +The Heart of Unaga + +By + +Ridgwell Cullum + +Author of "The Way of the Strong," etc. + + +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. + +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. + +G, P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + + +SNOWDRIFT + +BY + +JAMES B. HENDRYX + + +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. + +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. + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +NEW YORK LONDON + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN IN THE TWILIGHT*** + + +******* This file should be named 14756.txt or 14756.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/7/5/14756 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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