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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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Joan of Arc of the North Woods</p> +<p>Author: Holman Day</p> +<p>Release Date: September 18, 2007 [eBook #22667]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by<br /> + Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes, Jacqueline Jeremy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>JOAN OF ARC<br /> +OF THE NORTH WOODS</h1> + +<h2 class="con">CONTENTS</h2> +<table summary="table of contents"> +<colgroup span="2"> +<col width="50%"></col> +<col width="50%"></col> +</colgroup> +<tr> +<th class="tda">CHAPTER</th> +<th class="tdb">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#one">CHAPTER ONE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#one">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#two">CHAPTER TWO</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#two">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#three">CHAPTER THREE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#three">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#four">CHAPTER FOUR</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#four">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#five">CHAPTER FIVE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#five">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#six">CHAPTER SIX</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#six">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#seven">CHAPTER SEVEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#seven">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#eight">CHAPTER EIGHT</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#eight">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#nine">CHAPTER NINE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#nine">75</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#ten">CHAPTER TEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#ten">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#eleven">CHAPTER ELEVEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#eleven">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twelve">CHAPTER TWELVE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twelve">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#thirteen">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#thirteen">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#fourteen">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#fourteen">139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#fifteen">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#fifteen">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#sixteen">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#sixteen">167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#seventeen">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#seventeen">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#eighteen">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#eighteen">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#nineteen">CHAPTER NINETEEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#nineteen">212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty">CHAPTER TWENTY</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty">219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-one">CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-one">232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-two">CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-two">240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-three">CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-three">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-four">CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-four">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-five">CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-five">272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-six">CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-six">285</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-seven">CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-seven">296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-eight">CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-eight">302</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#twenty-nine">CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#twenty-nine">326</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tda"><a href="#thirty">CHAPTER THIRTY</a></td> +<td class="tdb"><a href="#thirty">339</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Books By</span><br /> +HOLMAN DAY</p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="smcap ws noindent">Joan of Arc of the North Woods<br /> +When Egypt Went Broke<br /> +All-wool Morrison<br /> +The Rider of the King Log<br /> +The Skipper and the Skipped<br /> +The Red Lane<br /> +The Ramrodders<br /> +The Landloper<br /> +Where Your Treasure Is<br /> +Squire Phin<br /> +Blow the Man Down</p> +</div> +<p class="center b">Harper & Brothers Publishers<br /> +New York and London</p> + + + + +<p class="center"><span class="title">Joan of Arc<br /> +of the North Woods</span><br /><br /><br /> + +<span class="by">By</span><br /> + +<span class="author">HOLMAN DAY</span><br /> + +<span class="author2">Author of</span><br /> +<span class="books">“THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG,” “WHEN<br /> +EGYPT WENT BROKE,” ETC.</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="100" height="121" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class="center b"><span class="pub">HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK AND LONDON</span></p> + + + + +<p class="center">Joan of Arc of the North Woods</p> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center">Copyright, 1922<br /> +By Harper & Brothers<br /> +Printed in the U.S.A.</p> +</div> +<p class="center"><em>First Edition</em><br /> +H–W</p> + + + + + +<h2 class="sub"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span>Joan of Arc<br /> +of the North Woods</h2> + +<h2><a name="one" id="one"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE timber situation in the Tomah country was surcharged.</p> + +<p>When Ward Latisan came upon Rufus Craig, one afternoon in autumn, steel +struck flint and trouble’s fuse was lighted.</p> + +<p>Their meeting was on the Holeb tote road just below Hagas Falls.</p> + +<p>Young Ward was the grandson of old John, a pioneer who was in his day a +saw-log baron of the times of pumpkin pine; by heredity Ward was the +foremost champion in the cause of the modern independent operators.</p> + +<p>In his own way, Craig, the field director of the Comas Consolidated +Paper Company, was the chief gladiator for an invading corporation which +demanded monopoly of the Tomah timber by absorption of the independents.</p> + +<p>Latisan tramped down the tote road from the shoulder of Holeb Mountain, +where he had been cruising alone for a week on the Walpole tract, +blazing timber for the choppers, marking out twitch roads and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +haul-downs, locating yards; his short-handled ax was in his belt, his +lank haversack flapped on his back; he carried his calipers in one hand; +with the other hand he fed himself raisins from his trousers pocket, +munching as he went along. He had eaten the last of his scanty supply of +biscuits and bacon; but, like other timber cruisers—all of them must +travel light—he had his raisins to fall back on, doling them one by +one, masticating them thoroughly and finding the nourishment adequate.</p> + +<p>He had been on the go every day from sunup till dark; nights he cinched +his belted jacket closely and slept as best he could, his back against a +tree; he had cruised into every nook and corner of the tract, spending +strength prodigally, but when he strode down the tote road his vitality +enabled him to hit it off at a brisk gait; his belt was a few holes +tighter, yet his fasting made him keenly awake; he was more alert to the +joy of being alive in the glory of the crisp day; his cap was in his +pocket, his tousled brown hair was rampant; and he welcomed the flood of +sunshine on his bronzed face.</p> + +<p>Craig was making his way along the tote road in a buckboard, with a +driver. The road bristled with rocks and was pitted with hollows; the +fat horses dragged their feet at a slow walk. Craig was a big man, a bit +paunchy, and he grunted while he was bounced. He wore his city hard hat +as if he wished by his headgear to distinguish himself from the herd of +woodsmen whom he bossed.</p> + +<p>Latisan overtook the toiling buckboard, and his stride was taking him +past when Craig hailed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>“Ride?”</p> + +<p>“No—thank you!” The negative was sharp. Privation and toil had put an +edge on the young man’s temper, and the temper was not amiable where +Craig was concerned.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got some business to talk with you, Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“If that’s so I can listen while I walk alongside.”</p> + +<p>But Craig ordered the driver to halt. Then the Comas director swung +around and faced Latisan. “I’m putting it up to you again—will you and +your father sell to the Comas?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“What is it going to be—a fight to a finish?”</p> + +<p>“If you keep your hands off us saw-log fellows, Mr. Craig, there’ll be +no fight. We were here first, you know!”</p> + +<p>“That’s got nothing to do with the present situation, Latisan. We’ve +built a million-dollar paper mill on the Toban, and it’s up to me to +feed it with pulp stuff. We can’t lug our plant off in a shawl strap if +supply fails.”</p> + +<p>“Nor can the folks who have built villages around the sawmills lug away +their houses if the mills are closed.”</p> + +<p>“Paper dominates in this valley nowadays, instead of lumber. Latisan, +you’re old-fashioned!”</p> + +<p>The young man, feeling his temper flame, lighted his pipe, avoiding too +quick retort.</p> + +<p>“You stand to lose money in the lumber market, with conditions as they +are,” proceeded Craig, loftily counseling another man about his own +business. The Comas director, intent on consolidation, had persist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>ently +failed to understand the loyalty, half romantic, which was actuating the +old-line employers to protect faithful householders. “Let the workers +move down the river to our model town.”</p> + +<p>“And live in those beehives of yours, paying big rent, competing with +the riffraff help you hire from employment agencies? We can’t see it +that way, Mr. Craig!”</p> + +<p>“Look here! I’ve got some news for you. I’ve just pulled five of the +independents in with us—Gibson, Sprague, Tolman, Brinton, and Bodwell. +The Comas now controls the timber market on the Toban. How about logs +for your mills?”</p> + +<p>Craig believed he was hitting Latisan five solid jolts to the jaw when +he named the recreant operators.</p> + +<p>However, the young man had heard rumors of what the bludgeoning methods +of the Comas had accomplished; he surveyed Craig resolutely through the +pipe smoke.</p> + +<p>He had come down from the Walpole tract that day in a spirit of new +confidence which put away all weariness from him. He was armed with a +powerful weapon. In his exultation, fired by youth’s natural hankering +to vaunt success in an undertaking where his elders had failed, he was +willing to flourish the weapon.</p> + +<p>Craig waggled a thick forefinger. “What are you going to saw, Latisan?”</p> + +<p>“Two million feet from the Walpole tract—where no ax has chipped a tree +for twenty-five years.”</p> + +<p>It was a return jolt and it made the Comas man blink. “But nobody can +buy the right to cut there.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>“I have bought the right, Mr. Craig. An air-tight stumpage +contract—passed on by the best lawyer in this county—a clear title.”</p> + +<p>“Latisan, the Comas has never been able to round up those heirs—and +what we can’t do with all our resources can’t be done by you.”</p> + +<p>“The Latisans know this region better than the Comas folks know it, sir. +Five cousins by hard hunting—two gravestones by good luck! All heirs +located! Why don’t you congratulate me?”</p> + +<p>Just then the Comas director was thinking instead of talking.</p> + +<p>In his operations he was a cocksure individual, Mr. Craig was! In his +hands, by his suggestion, his New York superiors had placed all the +details of business in the field of the north country. He had promised +consolidation with full belief in his ability to perform; one explicit +promise had been that this season would mark the end of the opposition +by the independents; the Comas would secure complete control of the +Toban timber and fix prices. But here were the ringleader Latisans in a +way to smash the corner which Craig had manipulated by bulldozing and +bribery! In the past Craig had not bothered headquarters with any minute +explanations of how he accomplished results. This crusher which +threatened all his plans and promises would make a monkey of him in New +York, he reflected.</p> + +<p>“I want to say a last word to you, Mr. Craig,” continued Latisan, +stiffly. “Probably we are now in for that fight on which you’ve been +insisting. I don’t want to fight, but I’m ready for a fair stand-up. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>Just a moment, please!” Craig had barked a few oaths preliminary to an +outpouring of his feelings. “I’m warning you to let up on those +guerrilla tactics of yours. I propose to find out whether your big men +in New York are backing you. I’m telling you now to your face, so you +can’t accuse me later of carrying tales behind your back, of my +intention to go to New York and report conditions to the president of +the Comas.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you dare!”</p> + +<p>“I do dare. I’m going. I expect you to run in ahead of me, but no +matter. And speaking of tales behind a man’s <span class="nowrap">back——”</span></p> + +<p>Craig was having difficulty in finding speech for retort; Latisan was +rushing the affair. Again Craig blustered, “Don’t you dare!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do dare. When I went away last summer I had good reasons for +keeping my plans to myself. I got back to the Toban and found slander +accusing me of sporting in the city, deviling around with liquor and +women. That’s a damnable lie!”</p> + +<p>Latisan delivered the accusation hotly; there was unmistakable challenge +in his demeanor. “You yourself have handed around some of that slander, +Mr. Craig. I get it straight from men whose word is good!”</p> + +<p>“I only said what others were saying.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, of course, who started those stories, but I do know that +they have been used against me. They have helped you, it seems! I wanted +to keep my plans under cover—but I’ve got to protect myself with the +truth, even if the truth gives you a tip. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>went away to take a special +course in hydraulic engineering, so as to know more about protecting the +common rights in the flowage of this river.” He swung his hand to +indicate the thundering falls of Hagas. “You have used your tongue to +hurt my standing with some of the independents—they distrust my +reliability and good faith—you have pulled in a few of them. The others +will stand by me. Frankly, Mr. Craig, I don’t like your style! It’ll be +a good thing for both of us if we have no more talk after this.” He +walked rapidly down the tote road, not turning his head when Craig +called furiously after him.</p> + +<p>“Pretty uppish, ain’t he?” ventured the driver, touching the horses with +the whip.</p> + +<p>Craig, bouncing alone on the middle seat of the buckboard, grunted.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Mr. Craig, but that’s some news—what he said about getting +aholt of the old Walpole tract.”</p> + +<p>The Comas boss did not comment.</p> + +<p>The driver said nothing more for some time; he was a slouchy woodsman of +numb wits; he chewed tobacco constantly with the slow jaw motion of a +ruminating steer, and he looked straight ahead between the ears of the +nigh horse, going through mental processes of a certain sort. “Now ’t I +think of it, I wish I’d grabbed in with a question to young Latisan. But +he doesn’t give anybody much of a chance to grab in when he’s talking. +Still, I’d have liked to ask him something.” He maundered on in that +strain for several minutes.</p> + +<p>“Ask him what?” snapped Craig, tired of the monologue.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>“Whuther he’s talked with my old aunt Dorcas about the heir who went +off into the West somewheres. Grandson of the old sir who was the first +Walpole of the Toban—real heir, if he’s still alive! My aunt Dorcas had +letters about him, or from him, or something like that, only a few years +ago.”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” stormed Craig. “Why haven’t you said something about such +letters or such an heir?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody has ever asked me. And he’s prob’ly dead, anyway. Them lawyers +know everything. And he’s a roving character, as I remember what my aunt +said. No use o’ telling anybody about him—it would cost too much to +find him.”</p> + +<p>“Cost too much!” snarled the Comas director. “Oh, <span class="nowrap">you——”</span> But he choked +back what he wanted to say about the man’s intellect. Craig pulled out +notebook and pencil and began to fire questions.</p> + +<p>Latisan was headed for home, the old family mansion in the village of +Toban Deadwater where Ward and his widowed father kept bachelor’s hall, +with a veteran woods cook to tend and do for them. The male cook was +Ward’s idea. The young man had lived much in the woods, and the ways of +women about the house annoyed him; a bit of clutter was more +comfortable.</p> + +<p>It was a long tramp to the Deadwater, but he knew the blazed-trail short +cuts and took advantage of the light of the full moon for the last stage +of the journey. He was eager to report progress and prospects to his +father.</p> + +<p>Ward was not anticipating much in the way of practical counsel from +Garry Latisan.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>Old John had been a Tartar, a blustering baron of the timberlands.</p> + +<p>Garry, his son, had taken to books and study. He was slow and mild, +deprecatory and forgiving. Ward Latisan had those saving qualities in a +measure, but he was conscious in himself of the avatar of old John’s +righteous belligerency when occasion prompted.</p> + +<p>Ward, as he was trudging home, was trying to keep anger from clouding +his judgment. When he felt old John stirring in him, young Latisan +sought the mild counsel of Garry, and then went ahead on a line of +action of his own; he was steering a safe course, he felt, by keeping +about halfway between John’s violence in performance and Garry’s +toleration.</p> + +<p>Ward was the executive of the Latisan business and liked the job; his +youth and vigor found zest in the adventures of the open. Old John’s +timber man’s spirit had been handed along to the grandson. Ward finished +his education at a seminary—and called it enough. His father urged him +to go to college, but he went into the woods and was glad to be there, +at the head of affairs.</p> + +<p>The operations on the old tracts, thinned by many cuttings, had been +keeping him closely on the job, because there were problems to be solved +if profits were to be handled.</p> + +<p>His stroke in getting hold of the Walpole tract promised profits without +problems; there were just so many trees to cut down—and the river was +handy!</p> + +<p>In spite of his weariness, Ward sat till midnight on the porch with his +father, going over their plans. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>young man surveyed the Latisan mill +and the houses of the village while he talked; the moon lighted all and +the mill loomed importantly, reflected in the still water of the pond. +If Craig prevailed, the mill and the homes must be left to rot, empty, +idle, and worthless. As Ward viewed it, the honor of the Latisans was at +stake; the spirit of old John blazed in the grandson; but he declared +his intention to fight man fashion, if the fight were forced on him. He +would go to the Comas headquarters in New York, he said, not to ask for +odds or beg for favors, but to explain the situation and to demand that +Craig be required to confine himself to the tactics of square business +rivalry.</p> + +<p>“And my course in engineering was a good investment; I can talk turkey +to them about our dams and the flowage rights. I don’t believe they’re +backing up Craig’s piracy!”</p> + +<p>Garry Latisan agreed fully with his son and expressed the wistful wish, +as he did regularly in their conferences, that he could be of more real +help.</p> + +<p>“Your sympathy and your praise are help enough, father,” Ward declared, +with enthusiasm. “We’re sure of our cut; all I’m asking from the Comas +is gangway for our logs. There must be square men at the head of that +big corporation!”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span><a name="two" id="two"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + + +<p class="cap">IN New York young Latisan plunged straight at his business.</p> + +<p>The home office of the Comas Consolidated Company was in a towering +structure in the metropolis’s financial district. On the translucent +glass of many doors there was a big C with two smaller C’s nested. In +the north country everybody called the corporation The Three C’s.</p> + +<p>After a fashion, the sight of the portentous monogram made Ward feel +more at home. Up where he lived the letters were familiar. Those nested +C’s stood for wide-flung ownership along the rivers of the north. The +monogram was daubed in blue paint on the ends of countless logs; it +marked the boxes and barrels and sacks of mountains of supplies along +the tote roads; it designated as the property of the Comas Company all +sorts of possessions from log camps down to the cant dog in the hands of +the humblest Polack toiler. Those nested C’s were dominant, assertive, +and the folks of the north were awed by the everlasting reduplication +along the rivers and in the forests.</p> + +<p>Ward, indignantly seeking justice, resolved not to be awed in the castle +of the giant. He presented himself at a gate and asked to see the +president. The president could not be seen except by appointment, +Latisan learned.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>What was the caller’s business? Latisan attempted to explain, but he +was halted by the declaration that all details in the timber country +were left to Rufus Craig, field manager!</p> + +<p>When Ward insisted that his previous talks with Craig had only made +matters worse for all concerned, and when he pleaded for an opportunity +to talk with somebody—anybody—at headquarters, he finally won his way +to the presence of a sallow man who filmed his hard eyes and listened +with an air of silent protest. He also referred Latisan back to Craig. +“We don’t interfere with his management of details in the north.”</p> + +<p>Evidently Mr. Craig had been attending to his defenses in the home +office.</p> + +<p>Ward’s temper was touched by the listener’s slighting apathy. “I’ve come +here to protest against unfair methods. Our men are tampered with—told +that the Latisans are on their last legs. We are losing from our crews +right along. We have been able to hire more men to take the places of +those who have been taken away from us. But right now we are up against +persistent reports that we shall not be able to get down our cut in the +spring. Sawmill owners are demanding bonds from us to assure delivery; +otherwise they will cancel their orders.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know any good reason why you can’t deliver?” probed the Comas +man, showing a bit of interest.</p> + +<p>“Your Mr. Craig seems to know. I blame him for these stories.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’re laboring under a delusion, Mr. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>Latisan. Why don’t +you sell out to our company? Most of the other independents have found +it to their advantage—seen it in the right light.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Craig’s tactics have driven some small concerns to see it that way, +sir. But my grandfather was operating in the north and supplying the +sawmills with timber before the paper mills began to grab off every tree +big enough to prop a spruce bud. Villages have been built up around the +sawmills. If the paper folks get hold of everything those villages will +die; all the logs will be run down to the paper mills.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” said the sallow man. “Paper is king these days.”</p> + +<p>Then he received a handful of documents from a clerk who entered, again +referred Ward to Mr. Craig, advised him to treat with the latter in the +field, where the business belonged, and hunched a dismissing shoulder +toward the caller.</p> + +<p>Ward had not been asked to sit down; he swung on his heel, but he +stopped and turned. “As to selling out, even if we can bring ourselves +to that! Mr. Craig has beaten independents to their knees and has made +them accept his price. It’s not much else than ruin when a man sells to +him.”</p> + +<p>“Persecutional mania is a dangerous hallucination,” stated the sallow +man. “Mr. Craig has accomplished certain definite results in the north +country. We have used the word Consolidated in our corporation name with +full knowledge of what we are after. We assure stable conditions in the +timber industry. You must move with the trend of the times.”</p> + +<p>Latisan had been revolving in his mind certain <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>statements which he +proposed to make to the big men of the Comas. He had assorted and +classified those statements before he entered the castle of the great +corporation. With youth’s optimism he had anticipated a certain measure +of sympathy—had in some degree pictured at least one kindly man in the +Comas outfit who would listen to a young chap’s troubles.</p> + +<p>Walking to the door, standing with his hand on the knob, he knew he must +go back to the woods with the dolorous prospect of being obliged to +fight to hold together the remnants of the Latisan business. He set his +teeth and opened the door. He would have gone without further words, but +the sallow man snapped a half threat which brought Ward around on his +heels.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Latisan, I hope you will carry away with you the conviction that +fighting the Comas company will not get you anything.”</p> + +<p>Ward choked for a moment. Old John was stirring in him. A fettered yelp +was bulging in his throat, and the skin of the back of his head tingled +as if the hair were rising. But he spoke quietly when he allowed his +voice to squeeze past the repressed impulse. “There’s a real fight ready +to break in the north country, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Do you propose to be captain?”</p> + +<p>“I have no such ambition. But your Mr. Craig is forcing the issue. No +company is big enough to buck the law in our state.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, my good fellow!” The sallow man came around in his chair. +Ward immediately was more fully informed as to the personage’s status. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>“I am one of the attorneys of this corporation. I have been attending +to the special acts your legislature has passed in our behalf. We are +fully protected by law.”</p> + +<p>“The question is how much you’ll be protected after facts are brought +out by a fight,” replied Ward, stoutly. “I know the men who have been +sent down to the legislature from our parts and how they were elected. +But even such men get cold feet after the public gets wise.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be enough!” snapped the attorney. He turned to his desk again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it looks like it,” agreed young Latisan; he did not bang the door +after him; he closed it softly.</p> + +<p>The attorney was obliged to look around to assure himself that his +caller was not in the room. Then he pushed a button and commanded a +clerk to ask if Mr. Craig was still in the president’s office. Informed +that Mr. Craig was there, the attorney went thither.</p> + +<p>“I have just been bothered by that young chap, Latisan, from the Tomah +region,” reported Dawes, the attorney. “He threatens a fight which will +rip the cover off affairs in the north country. How about what’s +underneath, provided the cover is ripped off, Craig?”</p> + +<p>“Everything sweet as a nut! Any other kind of talk is bluff and +blackmail. So that’s young Latisan’s latest move, eh?” he ejaculated, +squinting appraisingly at Dawes and turning full gaze of candor’s fine +assumption on Horatio Marlow, the president.</p> + +<p>“Just who is this young Latisan?” inquired Marlow.</p> + +<p>“Oh, only the son of one of the independents who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>are sticking out on a +hold-up against us. Did he name his price, Dawes?”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t try to sell anything,” acknowledged the attorney. “Craig, let +me ask you, are you moving along the lines of the law we have behind us +in those special acts I steered through?”</p> + +<p>“Sure thing!” asserted the field director, boldly.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to ask for more from the next legislature,” stated the +lawyer.</p> + +<p>The president came in with a warning. “Credit is touchy these days, Mr. +Craig. We’re going into the market for big money for further +development. It’s easy for reports to be made very hurtful.”</p> + +<p>“I’m achieving results up there,” insisted Craig, doggedly.</p> + +<p>“We’re very much pleased with conditions,” agreed the president. “We’re +able to show capital a constantly widening control of properties and +natural advantages. But remember Achilles’s heel, Mr. Craig.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t been able to fight ’em with feathers all the time,” confessed +the field director. “There wasn’t much law operating up there when I +grabbed in. I have done the best I could, and if I have been obliged to +use a club once in a while I have made the fight turn something for the +corporation.” He exhibited the pride of the man who had accomplished.</p> + +<p>The attorney warned Craig again. “We can’t afford to have any uproar +started till we get our legislation properly cinched. Tomah seems to be +attended to. But we need some pretty drastic special acts before we can +go over the watershed and control the Noda <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>waters and pull old Flagg +into line. He’s the last, isn’t he?—the king-pin, according to what I +hear.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll attend to his case all right,” declared Craig, with confidence. +“I’ll tackle the Noda basin next. Flagg must be licked before he’ll +sell. He’s that sort. A half lunatic on this independent thing. I reckon +you’ll leave it to me, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll leave all the details of operation in the field to you, Craig,” +promised the president. “But you must play safe.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take full responsibility,” affirmed Craig, whose pride had been +touched.</p> + +<p>“Then we shall continue to value you as our right bower in the north,” +said Marlow. “The man on the ground understands the details. We don’t +try to follow them here in the home office.”</p> + +<p>Craig walked out with Dawes.</p> + +<p>“That talk has put the thing up to you square-edged, Craig.”</p> + +<p>Craig had been heartened and fortified by the president’s compliments. +“Leave it to me!”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span><a name="three" id="three"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LATISAN had eaten his breakfast in the grill of a big hotel with a vague +idea that such an environment would tune him up to meet the magnates of +the Comas company.</p> + +<p>In his present and humbler state of mind, hungry again, he went into a +cafeteria.</p> + +<p>Waiting at the counter for his meat stew and tea—familiar woods +provender which appealed to his homesickness—he became aware of a young +woman at his elbow; she was having difficulty in managing her tray and +her belongings. There was an autumn drizzle outside and Ward had stalked +along unprotected, with a woodman’s stoicism in regard to wetness. The +young woman had her umbrella, a small bag, and a parcel, and she was +clinging to all of them, impressed by the “Not Responsible” signs which +sprinkled the walls of the place. When her tray tipped at an alarming +slant, as she elbowed her way from the crowded counter, Ward caught at +its edge and saved a spill.</p> + +<p>The girl smiled gratefully.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t mind,” he apologized; his own tray was ready. He took that +in his free hand. He gently pulled her tray from her unsteady grasp. +“I’ll carry it to a table.”</p> + +<p>The table section was as crowded as the counter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>space. He did not offer +to sit opposite her at the one vacant table he found; he lingered, +however, casting about himself for another seat.</p> + +<p>“May I not exchange my hospitality for your courtesy?” inquired the +girl. She nodded toward the unoccupied chair and he sat down and thanked +her.</p> + +<p>She was an extremely self-possessed young woman, who surveyed him +frankly with level gaze from her gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“You performed very nicely, getting through that crush as you did +without spilling anything,” she commended.</p> + +<p>“I’ve had plenty of practice.”</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes on him by way of a question. “Not as a waiter,” he +proceeded. “But with those trays in my hand it was like being on the +drive, ramming my way through the gang that was charging the cook tent.”</p> + +<p>“The drive!” she repeated. He was surprised by the sudden interest he +roused in her. “Are you from the north country?” Her color heightened +with her interest. She leaned forward.</p> + +<p>Latisan, in his infrequent experiences, had never been at ease in the +presence of pretty girls, even when their notice of him was merely +cursory. In the region where he had toiled there were few females, and +those were spouses and helpers of woods cooks, mostly.</p> + +<p>Here was a maid of the big city showing an interest disquietingly +acute—her glowing eyes and parted lips revealed her emotions. At the +moment he was not able to separate himself, as a personality, from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>subject which he had brought up. Just what there was about him or the +subject to arouse her so strangely he did not pause to inquire of +himself, for his thoughts were not coherent just then; he, too, was +stirred by her nearer propinquity as she leaned forward, questioning him +eagerly.</p> + +<p>He replied, telling what he was but not who he was; he felt a twinge of +disappointment because she did not venture to probe into his identity. +Her questions were concerned with the north country as a region. At +first her quizzing was of a general nature. Then she narrowed the field +of inquiry.</p> + +<p>“You say the Tomah waters are parallel with the Noda basin! Do you know +many folks over in the Noda region?”</p> + +<p>“Very few. I have kept pretty closely on my own side of the watershed.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there a village in the Noda called Adonia?”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes! It’s the jumping-off place—the end of a narrow-gauge +railroad.”</p> + +<p>“You have been in Adonia?”</p> + +<p>“A few times.”</p> + +<p>“I had—there were friends of mine—they were friends of a man in +Adonia. His name was—let’s see!” He wondered whether the faint wrinkle +of a frown under the bronze-flecked hair on her forehead was as much the +expression of puzzled memory as she was trying to make it seem; there +did appear something not wholly ingenuous in her looks just then. “Oh, +his name is Flagg.”</p> + +<p>“Echford Flagg?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s it. My friends were very friendly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>with him, and I’d like +to be able to tell <span class="nowrap">them——”</span> She hesitated.</p> + +<p>“You have given me some news,” he declared, bluntly; in his mood of the +day he was finding no good qualities in mankind. “I never heard of Eck +Flagg having any friends. Well, I’ll take that back! I believe he’s ace +high among the Tarratine Indians up our way; they have made him an +honorary chief. But it’s no particular compliment to a white man’s +disposition to be able to qualify as an Indian, as I look at it.”</p> + +<p>This time he was not in doubt about the expression on her face; a sudden +grimace like grief wreathed the red lips and there was more than a +suspicion of tears in her eyes. He stared at her, frankly amazed.</p> + +<p>“If I have stepped on toes I am sorry. I never did know how to talk to +young ladies without making a mess sooner or later.”</p> + +<p>She returned no reply, and he went on with his food to cover his +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Do you know Mr. Flagg?” she asked, after the silence had been +prolonged.</p> + +<p>“Not very well. But I know about him.”</p> + +<p>“What especially?”</p> + +<p>“That he’s a hard man. He never forgets or forgives an injury. Perhaps +that’s why he qualified so well as an Indian.”</p> + +<p>She straightened in her chair and narrowed those gray eyes. “Couldn’t +there have been another reason why he was chosen for such an honor?”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon for passing along to you the slurs of the north +country, <span class="nowrap">miss——”</span> he paused but <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>she did not help him with her name. +“It’s mostly slurs up there,” he went on, with bitterness, “and I get +into the habit, myself. The Indians did have a good reason for giving +Flagg that honor. He is the only one in the north who has respected the +Indians’ riparian rights, given by treaty and then stolen back. He pays +them for hold-boom privileges when his logs are on their shores. They +are free to come and go on his lands for birch bark and basket +stuff—he’s the only one who respects the old treaties. That’s well +known about Flagg in the north country. It’s a good streak in any man, +no matter what folks say about his general disposition.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to hear you say that much!”</p> + +<p>She pushed back her chair slightly and began to take stock of her +possessions. A sort of a panic came upon him. There were a lot of things +he wanted to say, and he could not seem to lay a tongue to one of them. +He stammered something about the wet day and wondered whether it would +be considered impudence if he offered to escort her, holding over her +the umbrella or carrying her parcel. He had crude ideas about the matter +of squiring dames. He wanted to ask her not to hurry away. “Do you live +here in New York—handy by?”</p> + +<p>The cafeteria was just off lower Broadway, and she smiled. He realized +the idiocy of the question.</p> + +<p>“I work near here! You are going home to the north soon?” The polite +query was in a tone which checked all his new impulses in regard to her.</p> + +<p>“I’m headed north right now. If there’s any information I can send +<span class="nowrap">you——”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>She shook her head slowly, but even the negative was marked by an +indecisive quality, as if she were repressing some importunate desire.</p> + +<p>“I wish you a pleasant journey, sir.” All her belongings were in her +hands.</p> + +<p>“It’s queer—it’s almost more than queer how we happened to meet—both +interested in the north country,” he stuttered, wanting to detain her.</p> + +<p>He was hoping she would make something of the matter.</p> + +<p>But she merely acknowledged the truth of his statement, adding, “There +would be more such coincidences in life if folks took the trouble to +interest themselves a bit in one another and compare notes.”</p> + +<p>She started to walk away; then she whirled and came back to the table +and leaned over it. Her soul of longing was in her eyes—they were +filled with tears. “You’re going back there,” she whispered. “God bless +the north country! Give a friendly pat to one of the big trees for me +and say you found a girl in New York who is homesick.”</p> + +<p>She turned from him before he could summon words.</p> + +<p>He wanted to call after her—to find out more about her. He saw her +gathering up her change at the cashier’s wicket. The spectacle reminded +him of his own check. Even love at first sight, if such could be the +strange new emotion struggling within him, could not enable him to leap +the barrier of the cashier’s cold stare and rush away without paying +scot. He hunted for his punched check. He pawed all over the marble top +of the table, rattling the dishes.</p> + +<p>A check—it was surely all of that!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>The search for it checked him till the girl was gone, mingled with the +street crowds. He found the little devil of a delayer in the paper +napkin which he had nervously wadded and dropped on the floor. He shoved +money to the cashier and did not wait for his change. He rushed out on +the street and stretched up his six stalwart feet and craned his neck +and hunted for the little green toque with the white quill.</p> + +<p>It was a vain quest.</p> + +<p>He did not know just what the matter was with him all of a sudden. He +had never had any personal experience with that which he had vaguely +understood was love; he had merely viewed it from a standpoint of a +disinterested observer, in the case of other men. He hated to admit, as +he stood there in the drizzle, his defeat by a cafeteria check.</p> + +<p>He remained in New York for another night, his emotions aggravatingly +complex. He tried to convince his soul that he had a business reason for +staying. He lied to himself and said he would make another desperate +sortie on the castle of the Comas company. But he did not go there the +next day. Near noon he set himself to watch the entrance of the +cafeteria. When he saw a table vacant near the door he went in, secured +food, and posted himself where he could view all comers.</p> + +<p>The girl did not come.</p> + +<p>At two o’clock, after eating three meals, he did not dare to brave the +evident suspicions of that baleful cashier any longer. Undoubtedly the +girl had been a casual customer like himself. He gave it up and started +for the north.</p> + + + +<hr /> + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span><a name="four" id="four"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + + +<p class="cap">WHEN Ward Latisan was home again and had laced his high boots and +buttoned his belted jacket, he was wondering, in the midst of his other +troubles, why he allowed the matter of a chance-met girl to play so big +a part in his thoughts. The exasperating climax of his adventure with +the girl, his failure to ask her name frankly, his folly of bashful +backwardness in putting questions when she was at arm’s length from him, +his mournful certainty that he would never see her again—all conspired +curiously to make her an obsession rather than a mere memory.</p> + +<p>He had never bothered with mental analysis; his effort to untangle his +ideas in this case merely added to his puzzlement; it was like one of +those patent trick things which he had picked up in idle moments, +allowing the puzzle to bedevil attention and time, intriguing his +interest, to his disgust. He had felt particularly lonely and helpless +when he came away from Comas headquarters; instinctively he was seeking +friendly companionship—opening his heart; he had caught something, just +as a man with open pores catches cold. He found the notion grimly +humorous! But Latisan was not ready to own up that what he had +contracted was a case of love, though young men had related to him their +experiences along such lines.</p> + +<p>He went into the woods and put himself at the head <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>of the crews. He had +the ability to inspire zeal and loyalty.</p> + +<p>In the snowy avenues of the Walpole tract sounded the rick-tack of busy +axes, the yawk of saws, and the crash of falling timber. The twitch +roads, narrow trails which converged to centers like the strands of a +cobweb, led to the yards where the logs were piled for the sleds; and +from the yards, after the snows were deep and had been iced by watering +tanks on sleds, huge loads were eased down the slopes to the landings +close to the frozen Tomah.</p> + +<p>Ward Latisan was not merely a sauntering boss, inspecting operations. He +went out in the gray mornings with an ax in his hand. He understood the +value of personal and active leadership. He was one with his men. They +put forth extra effort because he was with them.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the April rains began to soften the March snow crusts +and the spring flood sounded its first murmur under the blackening ice +of Tomah, the Latisan logs were ready to be rolled into the river.</p> + +<p>And then something happened!</p> + +<p>That contract with the Walpole second cousins—pronounced an air-tight +contract by the lawyer—was pricked, popped, and became nothing.</p> + +<p>An heir appeared and proved his rights. He was the only grandson of old +Isaac. The cousins did not count in the face of the grandson’s claims.</p> + +<p>In the past, in the Tomah region, there had been fictitious heirs who +had worked blackmail on operators who took a chance with putative heirs +and tax <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>titles. But the Latisans were faced with proofs that this heir +was real and right.</p> + +<p>Why had he waited until the cut was landed?</p> + +<p>The Latisans pressed him with desperate questions, trying to find a way +out of their trouble.</p> + +<p>He was a sullen and noncommunicative person and intimated that he had +suited his own convenience in coming on from the West.</p> + +<p>The Latisans, when the heir appeared, were crippled for ready cash, +after settling with the cousin heirs for stumpage and paying the +winter’s costs of operating. Those cousins were needy folks and had +spent the money paid to them; there was no hope of recovering any +considerable portion of the amounts.</p> + +<p>The true heir attached the logs as they lay, and a court injunction +prevented the Latisans from moving a stick. The heir showed a somewhat +singular disinclination to have any dealings with the Latisans. He +refused their offer to share profits with him; he persistently returned +an exasperating reply: he did not care to do business with men who had +tried to steal his property. He said he had already traded with +responsible parties. Comas surveyors came and scaled the logs and nested +C’s were painted on the ends of the timber.</p> + +<p>The Latisans had “gone bump” the word went up and down the Tomah.</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead and say it!” suggested Rufus Craig when he had set +himself in the path of Ward Latisan, who was coming away from a last, +and profitless, interview with the obstinate heir.</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to say, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Craig calculatingly chose the moment for this meeting, desiring to +carry on with the policy which he had adopted. By his system the Comas +had maneuvered after the python method—it crushed, it smeared, it +swallowed.</p> + +<p>The Latisans had been crushed—Craig quieted his conscience with the +arguments of business necessity; he had a big salary to safeguard; he +had promised boldly to deliver the goods in the north country. Though +his conscience was dormant, his fears were awake. He was not relishing +Latisan’s manner. The repression worried him. The grandson had plenty of +old John in his nature, and Craig knew it!</p> + +<p>Craig tried to smear!</p> + +<p>“Latisan, I’ll give you a position with the Comas, and a good one.”</p> + +<p>“And the conditions are?”</p> + +<p>“That you’ll turn over your operating equipment to us at a fair price +and sign a ten-year contract.”</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d name those conditions. I refuse.”</p> + +<p>“You’re making a fool of yourself—and what for?”</p> + +<p>“For a principle! I’ve explained it to you.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ve explained how our consolidated plan butts against your +old-fashioned principle. Do you think for one minute you can stop the +Comas development?”</p> + +<p>“I’m still with the independents. We’ll see what can be done.”</p> + +<p>“You’re licked in the Toban.”</p> + +<p>“There’s still good fighting ground over in the Noda Valley—and some +fighters are left there.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>Craig squinted irefully at the presumptuous rebel.</p> + +<p>Latisan hid much behind a smile. “You see, Mr. Craig, I’m just as frank +as I was when I said I was going to New York. You may find me in the +Noda when you get there with your consolidation plans.”</p> + +<p>“Another case of David and Goliath, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps! I’ll hunt around and see what I can find in the way of a sling +and pebble.”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span><a name="five" id="five"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">A SUMMONS sent forth by Echford Flagg, the last of the giants among the +independent operators on the Noda waters, had made that day in early +April a sort of gala affair in the village of Adonia.</p> + +<p>Men by the hundred were crowded into the one street, which stretched +along the river bank in front of the tavern and the stores. The +narrow-gauge train from downcountry had brought many. Others had come +from the woods in sledges; there was still plenty of snow in the woods; +but in the village the runner irons squalled over the bare spots. Men +came trudging from the mouths of trails and tote roads, their duffel in +meal bags slung from their shoulders.</p> + +<p>An observer, looking on, listening, would have discovered that a +suppressed spirit of jest kept flashing across the earnestness of the +occasion—grins lighting up sharp retort—just as the radiant sunshine +of the day shuttled through the intermittent snow squalls which dusted +the shoulders of the thronging men.</p> + +<p>There was a dominant monotone above all the talk and the cackle of +laughter; ears were dinned everlastingly by the thunder of the cataract +near the village. The Noda waters break their winter fetters first of +all at Adonia, where the river leaps from the cliffs into the whirlpool. +The roar of the falls is a trumpet call for the starting of the drive, +though the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>upper waters may be ice-bound; but when the falls shout +their call the rivermen must be started north toward the landings where +logs are piled on the rotting ice.</p> + +<p>On that day Echford Flagg proposed to pick his crew.</p> + +<p>To be sure, he had picked a crew every year in early April, but the +hiring had been done in a more or less matter-of-fact manner.</p> + +<p>This year the summons had a suggestion of portent. It went by word o’ +mouth from man to man all through the north country. It hinted at an +opportunity for adventure outside of wading in shallows, carding ledges +of jillpoked logs, and the bone-breaking toil of rolling timber and +riffling jams.</p> + +<p>“Eck Flagg wants roosters this year,” had gone the word. Spurred +roosters! Fighting gamecocks! One spur for a log and one for any hellion +who should get in the way of an honest drive!</p> + +<p>The talk among the men who shouldered one another in the street and +swapped grins and gab revealed that not all of them were ready to +volunteer as spurred roosters, ready for hazard. It was evident that +there were as many mere spectators as there were actual candidates for +jobs. Above all, ardent curiosity prevailed; in that region where events +marshaled themselves slowly and sparsely men did not balk at riding or +hoofing it a dozen miles or more in order to get first-hand information +in regard to anything novel or worth while.</p> + +<p>Finally, Echford Flagg stalked down the hill from his big, square +house—its weather-beaten grayness <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>matching the ledges on which it was +propped. His beard and hair were the color of the ledges, too, and the +seams in his hard face were like ledgerifts. His belted jacket was stone +gray and it was buttoned over the torso of a man who was six feet +tall—yes, a bit over that height. He was straight and vigorous in spite +of the age revealed in his features. He carried a cant dog over his +shoulder; the swinging iron tongue of it clanked as he strode along.</p> + +<p>The handle of the tool was curiously striped with colors. There was no +other cant dog like it all up and down the Noda waters. Carved into the +wood was an emblem—it was the totem mark of the Tarratines—the sign +manual by Sachem Nicola of Flagg’s honorary membership in the tribe.</p> + +<p>He was no popular hero in that section—it was easy to gather that much +from the expressions of the men who looked at him when he marched +through the crowd. There was no acclaim, only a grunt or a sniff. Too +many of them had worked for him in days past and had felt the weight of +his broad palm and the slash of his sharp tongue. Ward Latisan had +truthfully expressed the Noda’s opinion of Flagg in the talk with the +girl in the cafeteria.</p> + +<p>The unroofed porch of the tavern served Flagg for a rostrum that day. He +mounted the porch, faced the throng, and drove down the steel-shod point +of his cant dog into the splintering wood, swinging the staff out to +arm’s length.</p> + +<p>“I’m hiring a driving crew to-day,” he shouted. “As for <span class="nowrap">men——”</span></p> + +<p>“Here’s one,” broke in a volunteer, thrusting him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>self forward with +scant respect for the orator’s exordium.</p> + +<p>Flagg bent forward and peered down into the face uplifted hopefully.</p> + +<p>“I said men,” he roared. “You’re Larsen. You went to sleep on the Lotan +<span class="nowrap">ledges——”</span></p> + +<p>“I had been there alone for forty-eight hours, carding ’em, and the +<span class="nowrap">logs——”</span></p> + +<p>“You went to sleep on the Lotan ledges, I say, and let a jam get +tangled, and it took twenty of my men two days to pull the snarl loose.”</p> + +<p>The man was close to the edge of the porch. Flagg set his boot suddenly +against Larsen’s breast and drove him away so viciously that the victim +fell on his back among the legs of the crowd, ten feet from the porch.</p> + +<p>“I never forget and I never forgive—and that’s the word that’s out +about me, and I’m proud of the reputation,” declared Flagg. “I don’t +propose to smirch it at this late day. And now I look into your faces +and realize that what I have just said and done adds to the bunch that +has come here to-day to listen and look on instead of hiring out. I’m +glad I’m sorting out the sheep from the goats at the outset. It happens +that I want goats—goats with horns and sharp hoofs <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“The word was you wanted roosters,” cried somebody from the outskirts of +the crowd.</p> + +<p>There was laughter, seeking even that small excuse for vent; the +hilarity was as expressive as a <em>viva voce</em> vote, and its volume +suggested that there were more against Flagg than there were for him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>He did not lower his crest. “You all know what is happening this +season. You know why I have sent out for men. The Three C’s crowd has +started stealing from my crews. I want men who have a grudge against the +Three C’s. I want men who will fight the Three C’s. Rufe Craig proposes +to steal the Noda as he has stolen the Tomah. He has been making his +brags of what he’ll do to me. He won’t do it, even if I have to make a +special trip to hell and hire a crew of devils. Now let me test out this +crowd.” He was searching faces with a keen gaze. “All proper men to the +front ranks! Let me look at you!”</p> + +<p>A slow movement began in the throng; men were pushing forward.</p> + +<p>“Lively on the foot!” yelled Flagg. “I’m standing here judging you by +the way you break this jam of the jillpokes. Walk over the cowards, you +real men! Come on, you bully chaps! Come running! Hi yoop! Underfoot +with ’em!”</p> + +<p>He swung his cant dog and kept on adjuring.</p> + +<p>The real adventurers, the excitement seekers, the scrappers, drove into +the press of those who were in the way. The field became a scene of +riot. The bullies were called on to qualify under the eyes of the +master. There were fisticuffs aplenty because husky men who might not +care to enlist with old Eck Flagg were sufficiently muscular and ugly to +strike back at attackers who stamped on their feet and drove fists into +their backs.</p> + +<p>Flagg, on the porch, followed all phases of the scattered conflict, +estimated men by the manner in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>which they went at what he had set them +to do, and he surveyed them with favor when they crowded close to the +edge of his rostrum, dwelling with particular interest on the faces +which especially revealed that they had been up against the real thing +in the way of a fight. Behind and around the gladiators who had won to +the porch pressed the cordon of malcontents who cursed and threatened.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged for favor of prompt reply to mine of day and date,” said +Flagg, with his grim humor. He drove his cant-dog point into the floor +of the porch and left the tool waggling slowly to and fro. He leaped +down among the men. He did not waste time with words. He went among +them, gripping their arms to estimate the biceps, holding them off at +arm’s length to judge their height and weight. He also looked at their +teeth, rolling up their lips, horse-trader fashion. The drive provender +did not consist of tender tidbits; a river jack must be able to chew +tough meat, and the man in the wilderness with a toothache would have +poor grit for work in bone-chilling water after a sleepless night.</p> + +<p>Flagg carried a piece of chalk in his right hand. When he accepted a man +he autographed the initials “E F” on the back of the fellow’s shirt or +jacket, in characteristic handwriting. “Show your back as you go north,” +he proclaimed for the benefit of the strangers to his custom. “My +initials are good for stage team, tote team, lodging, and meals—the +bills are sent to Flagg. The sooner you start the sooner you’ll get to +headwaters.”</p> + +<p>A big chap followed at Flagg’s back as the despot <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>moved among the men. +He was Ben Kyle, Flagg’s drive boss, the first mate of the Flagg ship of +state. He was writing down the names of the men as they were hired. +Occasionally the master called on the mate to give in an opinion when a +candidate ran close to the line between acceptance or rejection.</p> + +<p>Flagg began to show good humor beyond his usual wont. He was finding men +who suited him. Many of them growled anathema against the Three C’s. +They had worked for that corporation. They had been obliged to herd with +roughscuff from the city employment agencies, unskilled men who were all +the time coming and going and were mostly underfoot when they were on +the job. One humorist averred that the Three C’s had three complete sets +of crews—one working, one coming in, and one going out.</p> + +<p>Kyle began to loosen up and copy some of Flagg’s good humor.</p> + +<p>He encouraged the wag who had described the three shifts to say more +about the Comas crews; he had some witticisms of his own to offer.</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass that when he tackled one hulking and bashful sort +of a chap who stuttered, Kyle was in most excellent mood to have a +little fun with a butt. Even Echford Flagg ceased operations to listen, +for the humor seemed to be sharp-edged enough to suit his satiric taste.</p> + +<p>“You say you’re an ox teamster!” bawled the boss. “Well, well! That’s +good. Reckon we’ll put some oxen onto the drive this spring so as to +give you a job. How much do you know about teaming oxen?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>After a great deal of mirth-provoking difficulty with b and g, the man +meekly explained that he did know the butt end of a gad from the brad +end.</p> + +<p>“Who in the crowd has got an ox or two in his pocket?” queried Kyle. “We +can’t hire an ox teamster for the drive”—he dwelt on oxen for the drive +with much humorous effect—“without being sure that he can drive oxen. +It would be blasted aggravating to have our drive hung up and the oxen +all willing enough to pull it along, and then find out that the teamster +was no good.”</p> + +<p>Martin Brophy, tavernkeeper, was on the porch, enjoying the events that +were staged in front of his place that day.</p> + +<p>“Hey, Martin, isn’t there a gad in the cultch under your office desk?”</p> + +<p>“Most everything has been left there, from an umbrella to a clap o’ +thunder,” admitted Brophy. “I’ll look and see.”</p> + +<p>“Better not go to fooling too much, Ben,” warned the master. “I’ve seen +fooling spoil good business a lot of times.”</p> + +<p>It was rebuke in the hearing of many men who were showing keen zest in +what might be going to happen; it was treating a right-hand man like a +child. Kyle resented it and his tone was sharp when he replied that he +knew what he was doing. He turned away from the glaring eyes of the +master and took in his hand the goad which Brophy brought.</p> + +<p>There was a sudden tautness in the situation between Flagg and Kyle, and +the crowd noted it. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>master was not used to having his suggestions +flouted.</p> + +<p>The boss thrust the goad into the hand of the bashful fellow. “There’s a +hitchpost right side of you, my man. Make believe it’s a yoke of oxen. +What are your motions and your style of language in getting a start. Go +to it!”</p> + +<p>The teamster swished the goad in beckoning fashion after he had rapped +it against the post in imitation of knocking on an ox’s nose to summon +attention. His efforts to vault lingually over the first “double-u” +excited much mirth. Even the corners of Flagg’s mouth twitched.</p> + +<p>“Wo, wo hysh! Gee up, Bright! Wo haw, Star!” Such was the opening +command.</p> + +<p>“They don’t hear you,” declared Kyle. “Whoop ’er up!”</p> + +<p>The teamster did make a desperate effort to drive his imaginary yoke of +oxen. He danced and yelled and brandished the goad as a crazy director +might slash with his baton. He used up all his drive words and +invective.</p> + +<p>Kyle could not let the joke stop there after the man had thrown down the +goad, wiped his forehead, and declared that it wasn’t fair, trying to +make him start a hitching post.</p> + +<p>“Pick up your gad,” commanded the boss. He dropped on his hands and +knees. “Now you show us what you can do. I’m a yoke of oxen.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I am. Get busy. Start your team.”</p> + +<p>“That’s about enough of that!” warned Flagg, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>sourly. “Kyle, get up onto +your feet where you belong.”</p> + +<p>But the spirit of jest made the boss reckless and willfully disobedient. +He insisted doggedly on his rôle as a balky ox and scowled at the +teamster. “If you want a job you’ll have to show <em>me</em>!”</p> + +<p>The teamster adjured Mr. Kyle in very polite language, and did not bring +the swishing goad within two feet of the scornful nose; the candidate +wanted a job and was not in a mood to antagonize a prospective boss.</p> + +<p>“You’re a hell of a teamster!” yapped Kyle. “What’s your system? Do you +get action by feeding an ox lollypops, kissing him on the nose and +saying, ’Please,’ and ’Beg your pardon’?”</p> + +<p>The big chap began to show some spirit of his own under the lash of the +laughter that was encouraging Kyle.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t getting a square deal, mister. That post wa’n’t an ox; you +ain’t an ox.”</p> + +<p>“I am, I tell you! Start me.”</p> + +<p>“You vow and declare that you’re an ox, do you, before all in hearing?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what!” Mr. Kyle was receiving the plaudits and encouragement of +all his friends who enjoyed a joke, and was certain in his mind that he +had that bashful stutterer sized up as a quitter. Flagg folded his arms +and narrowed his eyes—his was the air of one who was allowing fate to +deal with a fool who tempted it.</p> + +<p>The candidate did not hurry matters. He spat meditatively into first one +fist and then into the other. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>He grasped the goad in both hands. He +looked calculatingly at Mr. Kyle, who was on his hands and knees, and +was cocking an arch and provocative look upward, approving the grins of +the men near him.</p> + +<p>When the teamster did snap into action his manner indicated that he knew +how to handle balky oxen. First he cracked Mr. Kyle smartly over the +bridge of the nose. “Wo haw up!” was a command which Kyle tried to obey +in a flame of ire, but a swifter and more violent blow across the nose +sent him back on his heels, his eyes shut in his agony.</p> + +<p>“Gee up into the yoke, you crumpled-horn hyampus!” The teamster welted +the goad across Kyle’s haunches and further encouraged the putative ox +by a thrust of a full inch of the brad.</p> + +<p>When the boss came onto his feet with a berserker howl of fury and +started to attack, the ox expert yelled, “Dat rat ye, don’t ye try to +hook your horns into me!” Then he flailed the stick once more across +Kyle’s nose with a force that knocked the boss flat on his back.</p> + +<p>Echford Flagg stepped forward and stood between the two men when Kyle +struggled to his feet and started toward the teamster with the mania of +blood lust in his red eyes. The master put forth a hand and thrust back +the raging mate. Flagg said something, but for a time he could not be +heard above the tempest of howling laughter.</p> + +<p>It was riotous abandonment to mirth. Men hung helplessly to other men or +flapped their hands and staggered about, choking with their merriment. +The savageness of the punishment administered to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>boastful Kyle +might have shocked persons with squeamish dispositions; it was wildly +humorous in the estimation of those men o’ the forest. They were used to +having their jokes served raw.</p> + +<p>The roar that fairly put into the background the riot of the falling +waters of the Noda was what all the region recognized as the ruination +of a man’s authority in the north country; it was the Big Laugh.</p> + +<p>Flagg, when he could make himself heard by his boss, holding Kyle in his +mighty grip, made mention of the Big Laugh, too. “Kyle, you’ve got it at +last by your damn folly. You’re licked forever in these parts. I warned +you. You went ahead against my word to you. You’re no good to me after +this.” He yanked the list of names from Kyle’s jacket pocket.</p> + +<p>“Let me loose! I’m going to kill <span class="nowrap">that——”</span></p> + +<p>“You’re going to walk out—and away! You’re done. You’re fired. You +can’t boss men after this. A boss, are you?” he demanded, with bitter +irony. “All up and down this river, if you tried to boss men, they’d +give you the grin and call you ’Co Boss’. They’d moo after you. Look at +’em now. Listen to ’em. Get out of my sight. I don’t forgive any man who +goes against my word to him and then gets into trouble.” He thrust Kyle +away with a force that sent the man staggering. He turned to the bashful +chap, who had resumed his former demeanor of deprecation. “You’re hired. +You’ve showed that you can drive oxen and I reckon you can drive logs.”</p> + +<p>The teamster was too thoroughly bulwarked by admirers to allow the +rampant Kyle an opportunity to get at him. And there was Flagg to reckon +with if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>violence should be attempted. The deposed first mate slunk +away.</p> + +<p>“That, my men,” proclaimed the master, “is what the Big Laugh can do to +a boss. No man can be a boss for me after he gets that laugh. I reckon +I’ve hired my crew,” he went on, looking them over critically. “Stand by +to follow me north in the morning.”</p> + + + +<hr /> + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span><a name="six" id="six"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + + +<p class="cap">WHEN the autocrat of the Noda strode away, a stalwart young man +instantly obeyed Flagg’s command—seizing the occasion to follow then +and there. He had been standing on the outskirts of the throng, +surveying the happenings with great interest. The men who were in his +immediate vicinity, lumberjacks who were strangers in the Noda region, +were plainly of his appanage and had obeyed his advice to keep out of +the mêlée that had been provoked by Flagg’s methods of selection.</p> + +<p>When the big fellow hurried in pursuit of Flagg a bystander put a +question to one of the strangers.</p> + +<p>“You ought to know who he is,” returned the questioned. “That’s Ward +Latisan.”</p> + +<p>And just then, apart from the crowd, having overtaken the autocrat, the +young man was informing Flagg to that same effect.</p> + +<p>Flagg halted, swung around, and rammed his cant dog into the ground. +“You’ve changed from a sapling into fair-sized timber since I saw you +last. You look like old John, and that’s compliment enough, I reckon. +How do you happen to be over in the Noda country?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t happen! I heard of the word you sent out. I came here on +purpose, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>“To hire with you.”</p> + +<p>Flagg looked Latisan up and down and showed no enthusiasm. “Yes, I heard +that you and your father had let the Three C’s slam you flat. And what +makes you think I want that kind of a quitter in my crew?”</p> + +<p>Ward met the disparaging stare with a return display of undaunted +challenge. “Because I belong in the crew of a man who is proposing to +fight the Three C’s.”</p> + +<p>Flagg grunted.</p> + +<p>Latisan kept on. “You have been hiring men because they have been +parading a lot of little grouches against the Comas folks. You need a +man who has a real reason for going up against that outfit. And I’m the +man.”</p> + +<p>“What you think about yourself and what I may think about you are two +different things,” retorted Flagg, with insolence. “Looks to me like you +had got the Big Laugh over in your section. You have probably noticed +what I just did in a case of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“I took it all in, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> + +<p>“They are not laughing with us or against us over in the Tomah, Mr. +Flagg. They all know what happened, and that we fought the Comas fair +and square as long as we could keep on our feet. It was a trick that +licked us. Craig held out the Walpole heir on us.”</p> + +<p>“I know about it; I manage to get most of the news.” Flagg started to go +on his way, but Ward put his clutch on the autocrat’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, Mr. Flagg, but you’re going to hear what I have to ask of +you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>Mere apologetic suit would not have served with Flagg. He found this +bold young man patterning after the Flagg methods in dealings with men. +The boldness of the grip on his arm gained more effectively than +pleading.</p> + +<p>“Ask it. I’m in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>“You have fired Kyle. I want his place.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll <span class="nowrap">be——”</span></p> + +<p>“You needn’t be, sir. I’m a Latisan and I have bossed our drives. I have +brought along a bunch of my own men who have bucked white water with me +and are with me now in standing up for the principle of the +independents. Allow me to say that luck is with you. Here’s your chance +to get hold of a man who can put heart and soul into this fight you’re +going to make.”</p> + +<p>“And now go on and tell me how much you admire me,” suggested Flagg, +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“I can’t do that, sir. I’m going to tell you frankly I don’t relish what +I have heard about you. It’s for no love of you that I’m asking for a +chance to go up against the Comas people. It’s because you’re hard—hard +enough to suit me—hard enough to let me go to it and show the Three C’s +they can’t get away with what they’re trying to do up here through Rufus +Craig.”</p> + +<p>“All right. You’re hired. You’ve got Ben Kyle’s job,” stated Flagg.</p> + +<p>Latisan was not astonished by this precipitate come-about. He was +prepared for Flagg’s tactics by what he had set himself to learn about +the autocrat’s nature—quick to adjudge, tenacious in his grudges, +inflex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>ible in his opinion, bitterly ruthless when he had set himself in +the way his prejudices selected.</p> + +<p>“You have seen what happened to Kyle. Can you govern yourself +accordingly?” Flagg in his turn had set his grip on Ward’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll kick you out just as sudden as I kicked him if anything happens to +make men give you the grin. Can you start north with me in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“Now or in the morning; it makes no difference to me, sir.”</p> + +<p>Flagg shifted his hand from Ward’s arm to the young man’s shoulder and +propelled him back a few paces toward the crowd in front of the tavern. +“Listen, one and all! Here’s my drive boss. He’s old John Latisan’s +grandson. If that isn’t introduction enough, ask questions about old +John from those who remember him; this chap is like his grandfather.”</p> + +<p>Latisan went into the tavern after Flagg had marched away to the big +house on the ledges. The crowd made way for the new drive boss; those in +his path stared at him with interest; mumble of comment followed as the +men closed in behind him. When he sat down in a corner of the tavern +office and lighted his pipe his subalterns showed him deference by +leaving him to himself. That isolation gave Landlord Brophy his +opportunity to indulge his bent in gossip unheard by interlopers.</p> + +<p>Brophy plucked a cigar from a box in the little case on the desk and sat +down beside Ward. “I sympathize with you,” he said by way of backhanded +congratulation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>“Thank you.”</p> + +<p>“I was born in this tavern; my father built it and run it before me,” +said Brophy, tucking his cigar through the shrubbery of his gray +mustache. “And so I’ve had the chance to know Ech Flagg a good many +years. He’s a turk.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard so.”</p> + +<p>“He has always had a razor edge to his temper. Maybe you know what put +the wire edge onto it?” It was query with the cock of an eyebrow +accompanying.</p> + +<p>“What I know about Mr. Flagg is only a general reputation of being a +hard man. I can say that much to you because I told him the same thing. +And that’s as far as I care to gossip about an employer,” stated Ward, +stiffly.</p> + +<p>“That’s a safe stand,” said Brophy, unperturbed. “Keep to it and they +can’t be running to him with stories about what you have said. But he +don’t pay me wages and I can say what I feel like saying. A new boss +ought to know a few things about the man who hires him. It’s my +disposition to set a good chap on the right road with a tip. Whatever +you may say to Flagg in the way of chat, don’t you ever try to bring up +the subject of his family affairs.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not at all likely to,” snapped Latisan, with asperity.</p> + +<p>“Oh, such a subject is easy out when folks get to going confidential,” +pursued the persistent Brophy. The suggestion that he would ever be on +confidential terms with Flagg provoked an ill-tempered rebuke from Ward, +but Brophy paid no attention.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>“If you lose your job with him, as you probably will, Latisan, let it +be in the straight way of business, as he conducts it, instead of being +by some fool slip of your tongue about family matters.” He puffed at his +cigar complacently and still was giving no heed to Ward’s manifest +repugnance at being made the repository of gossip.</p> + +<p>“Eck’s wife died when the daughter Sylvia was small, and he sent the +girl off to school somewheres when she was big enough to be sent. And +she fell in with a dude kind of a fellow and came back home married to +him. She was so much in love that she dared to do a thing like that with +Eck Flagg—and that’s being in love a whole lot, I’ll say. Well, none of +us knew what was said back and forth in the family circle, but we +figured that the new husband’s cheeks didn’t tingle with any kisses that +Eck gave him. At any rate, Eck set Kennard to work—that was the name, +Alfred Kennard. Eck was never much good at ciphering. Office had been in +his hip pocket, where he carried his timebook and his scale sheet. +Kennard had an education and it came about that Eck let Alf do the +ciphering; then he let him keep the books; then he let him handle +contracts and the money; then he gave him power of attorney so that Alf +wouldn’t be hampered whilst Eck was away in the woods. Just handed +everything over for the first and the only time in his life, figuring +that it was all in the family. I guess that Alf went to figuring the +same way, seeing that he was good at figures; felt that what was Eck’s +was his, or would be later—and Alf proceeded to cash in. Stole right +and left, that was the amount <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>of it. Prob’ly reckoned he’d rather have +a sore conscience than have his feelings all ripped to pieces when he +asked Eck for money.</p> + +<p>“We all knew when Eck found out that he had been properly trimmed by the +only man he had ever trusted.</p> + +<p>“It happened in the dooryard of the big house up there, when Eck came +home, wised up, and tackled Alf. Eck felt that the inside of the house +might get mussed up by his language, so he stood in the yard and +hollered for Alf to come out. We all went up and stood around; it seemed +to be a free show, all welcome. We got the full facts in the case from +Eck.</p> + +<p>“Sylvia came out on the heels of Alf, and she had with her the little +Lida, Eck’s granddaughter. And after Eck had had his say to Alf and had +thrown him over the fence, he gave Sylvia her choice—stay with her +father or go away with Alf. Well, she had loved Alf well enough to come +home and face Eck with him; she loved Alf enough to turn her back on Eck +and face the world with her husband. Natural, of course! Eck tried to +grab the little girl away—to save his own from the thieves, so he said. +Sylvia fought him off and hung to the girl. It was a tough sight, +Latisan! And he stood there and shook his fists and cast ’em all off for +ever and aye. That’s his nature—no allowance made if anybody does him +dirt.</p> + +<p>“I’ll admit that Eck did make an allowance later, after Alf died and the +news of it got back here to Adonia. Lida was grown up to around sixteen +by that time. I got this from Rickety Dick. Know him?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>Latisan, relighting his pipe, shook his head with an indifferent wag.</p> + +<p>“Well, you soon will. He cooks and waits and tends on Eck. Looks up to +Eck. Loves Eck—and that’s going some! Dick told me about the allowance +Eck made for once in his life after I had touched Dick up by telling him +that Eck Flagg never made an allowance to anybody. Eck allowed to Dick +that Lida was too young to choose the right way that day in the yard. +When she had grown up Eck sent old Dick to hunt for her in the city, to +tell her she could come back to him, now that she was old enough to make +her choice. Said Sylvia couldn’t come back. Now that was a devil of a +position to put a girl in. What? Hey?”</p> + +<p>Latisan nodded, displaying faint interest.</p> + +<p>“And Sylvia right then was in bed with her never-get-over, so Dick told +me. Of course Lida wouldn’t come back. And she was working her fingers +to the bone to take care of her mother. Old Dick cried like a baby when +he was telling me. He cries pretty easy, anyway. He never dared to give +to Eck the word that Lida sent back. She’s got the spirit of the Flaggs, +so I judge from what Dick told me. She wouldn’t even take the eggs and +the truck Dick lugged down, though Dick had bought ’em with his own +money; she thought the stuff came from her grandfather. Dick had to hide +’em under the table when he came away. And so Eck has crossed Lida off +for ever and aye. Now that’s some story, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t enjoyed it,” said Ward, brusquely.</p> + +<p>“Prob’ly not. I wasn’t telling it thinking you’d <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>give three cheers when +I finished. But I’ve been warning you not to make a foolish break by +stubbing your toe over the family topic. I’ve heard what has happened to +the Latisans over Tomah way. You’re our real sort, and I’m blasted sorry +for you. I reckon you need a job and I’m trying to help you hold it. I +like your looks, young Latisan. I hate the Comas crowd. Craig has never +set down to my table but what he has growled about the grub. The cheap +rowdies he hires for his operations on these waters come through here +with bootleg booze and try to wreck my house. I’d like to be friends +with you, young Latisan, and if you feel that way about it, put it +there!”</p> + +<p>Brophy held out a fat hand and Latisan grasped it cordially.</p> + +<p>“In my position I hear all the news,” stated the landlord. “I’ll sift +the wheat out of the chaff and hand you what’s for your own good. And +now you’ll have to excuse me whilst I go and pound steak and dish up +dinner and wait on the table. That’s the trouble with running a tavern +up here in the woods. I can’t keep help of the girl kind. They either +get homesick or get married.”</p> + +<p>There was an ominous crash in the dining room.</p> + +<p>Brophy swore roundly and extricated his rotund haunches from the arms of +his chair. “There goes Dirty-Shirt Sam! I have to double him as hostler +and waiter. He’d smash the feed pails in the stable if they wasn’t +galvanized iron.”</p> + +<p>He pounded with heavy gait across the office and flung open the +dining-room door, disclosing a lop-sided <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>youth who was listlessly +kicking broken dishes into a pile.</p> + +<p>“You’re fourteen dollars behind your wages, already, with dishes you’ve +dropped and smashed,” shouted Brophy. “I’d give a thousand dollars for +the right kind of a girl to stay here and wait on tables if she wouldn’t +get married or homesick. I’ll make it a standing offer.” He cuffed the +youth in a circle around the heap of broken crockery and went on his way +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Latisan smoked and reflected on the nature of Echford Flagg as Brophy +had exposed it from the family standpoint.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at the sullen youth who was sweeping up the fragments of +the dishes. The whimsical notion occurred to Ward that he might post +Brophy on the advantages of a cafeteria plan of operating his hostelry. +But he had by these thoughts summoned the memory of one certain +cafeteria, and of a handsome girl who sat across from him and who had so +suddenly been swallowed up in the vortex of the city throngs—gone +forever—only a memory that troubled him so much and so often that he +was glad when his own Tomah men appeared to him, asking for commands and +taking his mind off a constantly nagging regret.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span><a name="seven" id="seven"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE set-off of the Flagg expedition in the gray of early dawn had an +element of picaresque adventure about it.</p> + +<p>Latisan was making an estimate of his crew while he mixed with the men, +checking them up, as they assembled again in front of the tavern of +Adonia. Old Cap’n Blackbeard would have cheerfully certified to the +eminent fitness of many of them for conscienceless deeds of derring-do. +The nature of Flagg’s wide-flung summons and his provocative method of +selection must needs bring into one band most of the toughest nuts of +the region, Latisan reflected, and he had brought no milk-and-water +chaps from the Tomah. He had come prepared for what was to face him. He +had led his willing men in more or less desperate adventures in his own +region; his clan had been busy passing the word among the strangers that +old John Latisan’s grandson was a chief who had the real and the right +stuff in him. It was plain that all the men of the crew were receiving +the information with enthusiasm. Some of them ventured to pat him on the +shoulder and volunteered profane promises to go with him to the limit. +They did not voice any loyalty to Flagg. Flagg was not a man to inspire +anything except perfunctory willingness to earn wages. The men saw real +adventure ahead if they followed at the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>back of a heroic youth who was +avenging the wrongs dealt to his family fortunes.</p> + +<p>There were choruses of old river chanteys while the men waited for the +sleds. A devil-may-care spirit had taken possession of the crew. Latisan +began to feel like the brigand chief of bravos.</p> + +<p>He was jubilantly informed by one enthusiast that they were all in +luck—that Larry O’Gorman, the woods poet, had picked that crew as his +own for that season on the river.</p> + +<p>The songs of Larry O’Gorman are sung from the Mirimichi to the Megantic. +He is analyst as well as bard. He makes it a point—and he still lives +and sings—to attach himself only to forces which can inspire his lyre.</p> + +<p>It was conveyed to the new boss that already was Larry busy on a new +song. Ward, his attention directed, beheld the lyricist seated on the +edge of the tavern porch, absorbed in composition, writing slowly on the +planed side of a bit of board, licking the end of a stubby pencil, +rolling his eyes as he sought inspiration.</p> + +<p>A bit later Larry rehearsed his choristers and Latisan heard the song.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="block">Come, all ye bold and bully boys—come lis-sun unto me!<br /> +’Tis all abowit young Latis-an, a riverman so free.<br /> +White water, wet water, he never minds its roar,<br /> +’Cause he’ll take and he’ll kick a bubble up and ride all safe to shore.<br /> +Come, all, and riffle the ledges! Come, all, and bust the jam!<br /> +And for all o’ the bluff o’ the Comas crowd we don’t give one good—<br /> +<span class="i3">Hoot, toot, and a hoorah!</span><br /> +We don’t give a tinker’s dam.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>Every man in the crowd was able to come in on the simple chorus.</p> + +<p>They were singing when Echford Flagg appeared to them. He was riding on +a jumper, with runners under it, and he was galloping his strapping bay +horses down from the big house on the ledges. On the bare ground the +runners shrieked, and he snapped his whip over the heads of the horses.</p> + +<p>“What is this, a singing school or a driving crew?” he demanded, +raucously.</p> + +<p>“The sleds have just come, sir,” explained Latisan, who had been +marshaling the conveyances.</p> + +<p>“Listen, all ye!” shouted Flagg. “Nothing but dunnage bags go on those +sleds till the runners hit the woods tote road and there’s good slipping +on the snow. The man who doesn’t hoof it till then hears from me.”</p> + +<p>He ordered Latisan to get onto the jumper seat beside him, slashed his +horses with the whip, and led the way toward the north.</p> + +<p>There was no word between the two for many a mile.</p> + +<p>Near noon they arrived at a wayside baiting place, a log house in a +clearing. They ate there and the horses were fed. There was plenty of +snow in the woods and the first rains of April had iced the surface so +that the slipping had been good.</p> + +<p>As if the chewing of food had unlocked Flagg’s close-set jaws, he talked +a bit to Latisan after the meal and while the horses were put to the +jumper.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to swing off here and ride down to Skulltree dam. I’m hearing +reports of something going on there.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>They heard something very definite in the way of reports before they +reached Skulltree. The sound of explosions came booming through the +trees. It was dynamite. Its down-thrusting thud on the frozen ground was +unmistakable.</p> + +<p>“I knew that all those boxes of canned thunder that have been going +through Adonia, with the Three C’s on the lid, weren’t intended to blow +up log jams,” vouchsafed Flagg, after a few oaths to spice his opinion +of the Comas company.</p> + +<p>Latisan knew something about the lay of the land at Skulltree, himself. +When he was a young chap the Latisans had operated in a small way as a +side-line on the Noda waters. There was a rift in the watershed near +Skulltree. There was a cañon leading down to the Tomah end, and the +waters of the gorge were fed by a chain of ponds whose master source was +near the Noda. The Latisans had hauled over to the pond from the Noda +Valley.</p> + +<p>When Flagg pulled his horses to a halt on the edge of a cliff which +commanded a view of the Skulltree and its purlieus, he sat in silence +for five minutes until he had taken in every detail of what was going on +there.</p> + +<p>Every little while there was an explosion across the river among the +trees, and clotted frozen earth and rocks shot up into the air. When the +horses leaped in fright Flagg slashed them and swore. It was plain that +his ire was mounting as he made sure of what was taking place.</p> + +<p>They were blasting a rude canal from the Noda across the low horseback +which divided the Noda <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>waters from Tomah ponds. It meant the diversion +of flowage. It was contemptuous disregard of the Noda rights in favor of +the million-dollar paper mill of the Three C’s on the Tomah lower +waters. Rufus Craig had said something to young Latisan about the +inexpediency of picking up a million-dollar paper mill and lugging it +off in a shawl strap. It would be easier to blow a hole through the +earth and feed in the logs from the Noda.</p> + +<p>“By the red-hot hinges of Tophet!” bawled Flagg, having made sure that +the enormity he was viewing was not a dream. He cut his whip under the +bellies of his horses, one stroke to right and the other to left, and +the animals went over the cliff and down the sharp slope, skating and +floundering through the snow. The descent at that place would have been +impossible for horses except for the snow which trigged feet and runners +in some degree; it was damp and heavy; but the frantic threshing of the +plunging beasts kicked up a smother of snow none the less. It was like a +thunderbolt in a nimbus—the rush of Flagg down the mountain.</p> + +<p>Rufus Craig was in the shack at the end of Skulltree dam—his makeshift +office. Somebody called to him, and from his door he beheld the last +stages of Flagg’s harebrained exploit, a veritable touch-and-go with +death.</p> + +<p>“There ain’t much doubt about who it is that’s coming for a social +call,” said the understrapper who had summoned the field director. “And +the question is whether he’s bound for hell or Skulltree.”</p> + +<p>Craig did not comment; he had the air of one who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>had been expecting a +visitor of this sort and was not especially astonished by the mode of +getting there suddenly, considering the spur for action.</p> + +<p>Tempestuous was the rush of the horses across the narrow flats between +the cliff and the end of the dam. So violently did Flagg jerk them to a +standstill in front of the shack, one horse fell and dragged down the +other in a tangle of harness. Flagg left them to struggle to their feet +as best they were able. He leaped off the jumper and thrust with the +handle of his whip in the direction of the dynamite operations.</p> + +<p>The old man’s features were contorted into an arabesque—a pattern of +maniacal rage. His face was purple and its hue was deepened because it +was set off against the snow which crusted his garments after his +descent through the drifts. Knotted veins stood out on his forehead. +There was no coherence in the noises he was making in his effort to +speak words. He kept jabbing with his whip handle.</p> + +<p>Evidently Craig’s first thought was that the menace of the whip was for +him; he half put up a curved arm to ward off blows. In spite of his +attention to Flagg he surveyed Latisan with considerable astonishment.</p> + +<p>Ward had not recovered his poise. A passenger is usually more perturbed +than a driver in desperate situations. That crazy dash down the cliff +had frightened him into speechless and numb passivity. He still clung to +the jumper seat with his stiffened fingers.</p> + +<p>“Before you do anything you’ll be sorry for, Mr. Flagg, let me assure +you that we have the law behind us in what we’re doing,” suggested +Craig, with nerv<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>ous haste. “The legislature extended our charter for +development purposes and a special act protects us.”</p> + +<p>Flagg strode away a dozen paces and then came back with better command +over his faculties of speech. “Damn your legislature! What right has it +got to tamper with a landbreak that God Almighty has put between +waters?”</p> + +<p>“The act was passed, Mr. Flagg. There was an advertised hearing. If you +were interested you should have been there.”</p> + +<p>“What does a legislature know about conditions up here?” demanded Flagg, +with fury. “They loaf around in swing chairs and hearken to the first +one who gets to ’em. They pass laws with a joker here and a trick there, +and they don’t know what the law is really about. You’re stealing my +water. By the gods! there’s no law that allows a thief to operate. And +if you’ve got a law that helps you steal I’ll take my chance on keeping +my own in spite of your pet and private law.”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead, Flagg,” said Craig, impudently, no longer apprehensive about +the whip. “I’m not your guardian to save you from trouble. There’s water +enough for all of us.”</p> + +<p>“You have swept the slopes so clean for your cursed pulp-wood slivers +that you have dried up the brooks, and there isn’t enough water any +more, and you know it. Your damnation canal will suck the life out of +the Noda.”</p> + +<p>“You listen to me, Flagg!” adjured Craig, getting back all his +confidence as the executive of a powerful corporation. “Another special +act allows us to raise <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>this dam and conserve the water so that there’ll +be plenty after we use our share for the canal. You’re safe <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“Safe!” raged the old man, and again the veins knotted on his forehead +and he panted for breath. Latisan wanted to urge him to be careful. +Flagg was exhibiting the dread symptoms of apoplexy. “Safe! I’ll be +locked into this dam by you, with sluiceway refused to me—that’s what +it will come to—you offering me a cut price for the logs I can’t get +down to the Adonia sawmills. If you can’t kill one way, as you killed +off the Latisans, you’ll kill in another way. You’re a devilish thief, +Craig. I wonder if the men who hire you know what you are. Special acts, +hey? That legislature has given a robber a loaded gun without knowing +it. By the bald-headed jeesicks! I’ve got a drive coming down this +river! And for fifty years, every spring, it has gone through. It’s +going through this year, too, and if you’re underfoot here you’ll be +walked on. And that’s just as good as your trumped-up law; it’s +better—it’s justice.”</p> + +<p>Flagg acted like a man who did not dare to remain longer in the presence +of such an enemy; his big hands were doubling into hard fists; he was +shaking in all his muscles. He leaped back onto the seat of his jumper, +swung his team and sent his horses leaping up a whiplash road which +traversed the cliff—a road he had disdained in his wild impatience to +meet his foe.</p> + +<p>When they reached the level of the wooded country Flagg had something to +say about his abrupt depar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>ture from Craig, as if the master feared that +his employe might suspect that there was an element of flight in the +going-away. “There’s a law against killing a man, and I’ve got to +respect that law even if I do spit on special acts that those gum-shoers +have put through. I didn’t go down to their legislature and fight +special acts, Latisan. I found these waters running downhill as God +Almighty had set ’em to running. I have used ’em for my logs. And if any +man tries now to steal my water at Skulltree, or block me with a raised +dam, there’s going to be one devil of a fight at Skulltree and I’ll be +there in the middle of it. What I wanted to do to Craig to-day can well +wait till then when the doing can count for full value.”</p> + +<p>Ward had been casting solicitous side glances at the empurpled face and +the swollen veins. He did not dare to counsel Flagg as to his motions or +his emotions. But he felt sure that an old man could not indulge in such +transports without danger. He knew something about the effects of an +embolism. His violent grandfather had been a victim of a fit of flaming +anger in his old age.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be in the middle of it, a club in each hand,” promised Flagg. And +his molten ponderings kept alight the fires in his face.</p> + +<p>They halted for the night at one of the Flagg store depots and were +lodged in the office camp, reserved sacred to the master and his boss.</p> + +<p>Latisan slept in the bunk above the master.</p> + +<p>Flagg had been silent all the evening, poring over the accounts that the +storekeeper had turned over.</p> + +<p>He sighed frequently; he seemed to be weary. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>After a time he kicked off +his larrigans and rolled into his bunk, ready dressed as he had stood. +He seemed to lack the volition to remove his clothing.</p> + +<p>He was snoring calmly when Latisan went to sleep.</p> + +<p>Sometime in the night the young man awoke. The sounds which he heard +below him were not the snores of a man who was sleeping peacefully. +There was something ominous about the spasmodic and stertorous +breathing.</p> + +<p>Latisan slipped to the floor and lighted a lamp. He found the wide eyes +of Flagg staring from the gloom of the bunk.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Mr. Flagg? What is the matter?” he asked, with solicitude.</p> + +<p>Flagg slowly reached with his left hand, picked up his right hand, and +when he released it the hand fell as helplessly as so much dead flesh. +“That’s it,” he said, without apparent emotion. “It’s a shock.” He +employed the colloquial name for a stroke of paralysis. “My mother was +that way. I’ve been afraid of it—have expected it, as you might say. +Mother lived ten years after her shock. I hope to God I won’t. For it +has taken me just when I’m ready to put up my best fight—and it’s my +good right hand, Latisan, my right hand!”</p> + + + +<hr /> + + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span><a name="eight" id="eight"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THAT was Flagg’s reiterated lament on the journey back to Adonia. “It’s +my right hand, Latisan!”</p> + +<p>Ward had insisted on being the charioteer for the stricken master, +promising to rush back to headwaters and take charge of the crew. He +tried to console the old man by urging that getting in touch as soon as +possible with capable doctors might restore his strength. “It may be +only a clot in the brain, sir. Such cases have been helped.”</p> + +<p>“It’s my right hand. It’s like my mother’s. She never could lift it +again.”</p> + +<p>They had started before dawn; a gibbous moon shed enough light on the +tote road to serve Latisan. Flagg was couched on a sled, his blanket +propped up by hay. His scepter, the curiously marked cant dog, lay +beside him. He had made sure of that before he allowed the team to +start.</p> + +<p>“I propose to be your right hand in so far as I’m able, Mr. Flagg,” +declared Latisan, at last, pricked by the repeatedly iterated plaint. +“You can depend on me just as far as I can stretch my ability.”</p> + +<p>“But you told me you didn’t like me for myself. You said you were +joining drives with me because I was proposing to fight. Now I can’t +fight. No man will do my fighting for me unless he likes me for myself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>“I’ll do it for you, sir,” insisted Ward, determinedly. “It’s right in +line with my plans. I’ll take your orders. I’ll come to you regularly at +Adonia. You shall know every move. I’ll be merely your right hand to do +what you want done.”</p> + +<p>“I’m a hard man with my help, Latisan. You have agreed with me on that +point. I shall be ugly when I’m chained up. I shall say something to +you, and then you’ll quit.”</p> + +<p>Latisan had been looking the situation squarely in the eye on his own +account. He was confronted by something wholly outside all his +calculations. He had enlisted merely as a lieutenant and had never +considered that he would be called on to assume authority as chief in +the field. He had been led to serve with Flagg because the old man was +the personification of permanency in the north country—seemed to be +something that could not be shaken by the assaults of the Comas—a man +who impressed all as being above the hazards of death and accident. +Somehow, after all the years and because he had been there as a fixture +through so many changes, Echford Flagg was viewed as something +perennial—as sure as sunrise, as solid and everlasting as the peak of +Jerusalem Knob, which overshadowed the big house on the ledges at +Adonia; he was a reality to tie to in a fight against a common foe.</p> + +<p>But right then he was a whimpering old man who plucked and fumbled at a +dead right hand.</p> + +<p>He was as helpless as a little man whom Latisan had plucked from a +brutal clutch of an assailant in front of a bulletin board. Craig was +still able enough. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>Craig was man size. Craig would be even more vicious +when the news of Flagg’s condition reached him; he would perceive his +opportunity.</p> + +<p>“It’s sort of the code up where I come from. There’s no objection to a +clean fight. But if you don’t pick your bigness you must expect that +your bigness will offer himself mighty sudden.” Latisan was not +recollecting what he had said to the chaps of Tech; he was putting +before his mind one of his fundamental principles as he listened to the +laments of the stricken giant and urged the horses down the tote road. +Craig would keep on fighting; but Flagg was no longer of Craig’s +bigness. There was only one thing for Latisan to do—so that was why he +put so much of determination and warmth into his pledges to a man whom +he did not like from a personal standpoint. Flagg could not understand +why this stranger should be loyal; the old man’s wits were numbed along +with his body.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be ripping at you with my tongue, because it’s been my style—and +I’ll be worse when I’m penned up.” Flagg could not seem to hope for any +reform in himself. He was accepting his nature as something forged +permanently in the fires of his experience, not to be remolded.</p> + +<p>“I’m not thin-skinned, sir. If you can’t keep from abusing me about +business details, go ahead and abuse. It will ease your feelings and the +abuse will not hurt me, because I don’t propose to do anything knowingly +to justify abuse. Twitting on real facts is what hurts. You hired me +because you knew I had good reasons for fighting the Comas on account of +the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>principle involved in the stand of the independents; you know that +I still have the reasons, no matter how much your tongue may run away +with you about foolish details.”</p> + +<p>He was looking forward to an opportunity to place himself even more +definitely on record in the hearing of Flagg. After the sun was up +Latisan expected to be able to grasp that opportunity at almost any turn +of the tote road. He knew he would meet the upcoming crew. Flagg’s +horses on the trip north had made twice the speed of the plodding woods +teams, and the crew had been ordered to spend the night at any camp +where darkness overtook them.</p> + +<p>Latisan heard, long before he came in sight of them, the shrill yells +with which sled load interchanged repartee with sled load; everlastingly +there was the monotone of the singers. It was plain that the same spirit +of gay adventure was inspiring the men.</p> + +<p>The tote road was a one-track thoroughfare; Latisan picked a cleared +knoll at one side for his turnout switch and swung his horses up there +in order to give the heavy sleds passage.</p> + +<p>“How the hell can they come singing? Stop ’em,” moaned Flagg.</p> + +<p>There were half a dozen sleds in close procession, and Ward’s upflung +hand halted them when the leading sled came abreast.</p> + +<p>By his own efforts Flagg propped himself into a sitting posture, braced +by his left arm.</p> + +<p>Men leaped off the sleds and crowded forward in a phalanx, cupping with +their ranks the sledge where <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>their master was couched. Voices were +hushed and eyes were wide.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been hit a wallop, boys,” quavered the old man. “Overnight it has +hit me. Shock. It ain’t surprising at my age. Mother had the same.”</p> + +<p>For that moment Flagg had put aside the shell of his nature; he found +instant sympathy in the gaze which rough men of the forest bestowed on a +stricken one of their ilk. He was responding to that sympathy. There +were tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Men, I’m hurrying Mr. Flagg home where he can be looked after by the +doctors. I’m sure he’ll soon be all right again,” Latisan assured them, +lying for the good of the cause. “In the meantime I’m saying to him for +myself that I’m standing by for every ounce that’s in me. What do you +say to him?”</p> + +<p>“The same!” they yelled, in a ragged chorus.</p> + +<p>“Fact is,” went on Ward, as spokesman for all, “to make up for your not +being with us, Mr. Flagg, we’ve got to put in twice as many licks +because you’re not on the job, and you can depend on us. What, boys?”</p> + +<p>They bellowed promises and shrieked a pledge.</p> + +<p>“Get along to headwaters and start to rolling the jackstraws onto the +ice,” shouted Latisan. “Have the dynamite warmed when I get back there. +If we have to do it, well beat the April rains to the job.”</p> + +<p>They went on their way, cheering.</p> + +<p>“You’ve heard us. It ought to help some,” stated Ward, urging his team +along toward Adonia.</p> + +<p>“The songs of the angels never will sound any better, and the angels +will never look any better than <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>those men did just now,” declared the +old man, still in his softened mood.</p> + +<p>Latisan turned about and grinned at the master.</p> + +<p>“I know what you mean,” averred Flagg. “Of course I know. I was after +pirates and I’ve got the toughest gang in the north country. Feed ’em +raw meat, Latisan!”</p> + +<p>Over the snow, which was slushy under the April sun of midday, and +finally into Adonia over the rutted grit that the evening chill had +frozen, the baron of the Noda was driven to the door of his mansion on +the ledges.</p> + +<p>Latisan had picked up men at the tavern as helpers.</p> + +<p>A hail brought out a little old man whose white, close beard and fluffy +hair gave his face the appearance of a likeness set into a frame of +cotton batting. It was Rickety Dick; Brophy had told Latisan about him. +He flung his hands above his head; it was his involuntary action when +deep emotion stirred him; and his customary ejaculation was, “Praise the +Lord!” It was possible that he would have shouted those words even then +without regard to their irrelevance; but he was not able to utter a +sound when Brophy and Latisan and the other men came bearing Flagg into +the house.</p> + +<p>The master stoutly refused to be laid in his bed. There was his big +armchair in the middle of the sitting room; he commanded that he be +placed there. “I can’t fight lying down. If I can’t stand up, I can sit +up.”</p> + +<p>“Praise the Lord!” cried old Dick, finding an opportunity to interject +his thanksgiving phrase.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>“I’ll come to you often, Mr. Flagg,” promised Ward, taking leave. “I’ll +not neglect matters up the river, of course. But I want you to feel that +I’m merely your right hand, moving according to your orders.”</p> + +<p>He went away with a thrill of sympathy inspiring his new resolution in +behalf of the master’s interests. The spectacle that he closed the door +on had pathos in it. The tyrant of the Noda was shut away from the woods +where he had ruled—away from the rush of white water under the prow of +his great bateau; he could hear only the tantalizing summons of the +cataract whose thunder boomed above the village of Adonia.</p> + +<p>Latisan had promised to send for the best doctors in the city—he had a +messenger already on the way. But he knew well enough that Echford +Flagg, if he lived, was doomed to sit in that big chair and wield his +scepter vicariously. And Latisan knew, too, what sort of the torments of +perdition Flagg would endure on that account.</p> + +<p>In the office of Brophy’s tavern Rufus Craig, apparently a casual +wayfarer, was sitting when Latisan entered after leaving the big house +on the ledges.</p> + +<p>Craig either felt or assumed contrite concern. “Excuse me, Latisan, but +is it true that Mr. Flagg has suffered a stroke of paralysis?”</p> + +<p>“It is true, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry. I’m not on pleasant terms with him, or with you, for that +matter. But I hate to see a good fighter struck down.”</p> + +<p>Latisan went to the desk and wrote his name on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>a leaf of the dog-eared +register. He proposed to stay the night at Brophy’s and start north in +the morning.</p> + +<p>“Go up and take Number Ten,” said Brophy, who had been called as a +helper and who had walked down from the mansion with Latisan.</p> + +<p>When Craig plodded heavily along the upper corridor, on his way to bed a +little later, the door of Number Ten was open for ventilation; Latisan +was smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper which he had picked up in +the tavern office. His stare, directed at Craig over the top of the +newspaper, was inhospitable when the Comas man stopped and leaned +against the door jamb.</p> + +<p>“Latisan, I’m presuming on that frankness of yours; you have bragged +about it in the past.”</p> + +<p>“That was before my experience with you in the Walpole matter, sir. But +go ahead! What do you want?”</p> + +<p>“You’re over here in the Noda region, according to your threat. You may +be willing to inform me as to your status in the Flagg proposition, now +the old man is on his back.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Flagg has put me in full charge of his drive.”</p> + +<p>“Has he delegated to you any authority to compromise?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir!”</p> + +<p>“There ought to be an opportunity to compromise, now that he’s down and +out.”</p> + +<p>“I just left Mr. Flagg sitting in his chair, and he says he intends to +keep sitting there. Therefore, he isn’t down.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>“Is his mind clear for business?”</p> + +<p>“I should say so—yes!”</p> + +<p>Craig tipped his hat and scratched the side of his head. “Then I’m +afraid there isn’t much use in my going to him to talk compromise,” he +confessed.</p> + +<p>“That’s your affair, Mr. Craig.”</p> + +<p>“And your affair—where he’s <span class="nowrap">concerned——”</span></p> + +<p>“Is to bring down his drive.”</p> + +<p>“He has threatened a big fight at Skulltree. You heard him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And if he gives his orders to blow hell out of the bottom of the river, +I suppose you’ll obey, eh?”</p> + +<p>“He has ordered me to bring his logs into the hold-boom here at Adonia. +I have promised to do so. I see no need of going into details of how I’m +to do it.” Latisan raised the shield of his newspaper in front of his +face.</p> + +<p>But Craig persisted. He had promised the Noda to his superiors; he had +not been sure how he could maneuver to deliver, but his past success had +impelled him to go on with his cocksure pledges of performance; he was +spurred by a hint of a raise in salary, a gift of Comas common stock; he +had depended on the situation at Skulltree as his principal weapon, if +bravado backed the special legislative act. But that act had been +juggled, just as Echford Flagg had asserted. The thing was ticklish, and +Craig knew it. Anger and apprehensiveness were working twin leverage on +the Comas executive.</p> + +<p>“Latisan, by coming over here into the Noda and grabbing in where you +have no timber interests of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>your own, you have shown your animus. You +have made it a personal matter between you and me.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a lot of truth in what you say,” admitted Ward, lowering his +shield. “Let’s exchange accusations! You held that Walpole heir up your +sleeve till we had our cut on the landings. If you had worked such a +trick on my grandfather he wouldn’t be sitting on this chair, as I’m +doing. He’d be kicking you around this tavern. I’ll save my strength for +the Flagg drive.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got some frankness of my own, Latisan. I’m at a point where my +future with the Comas is in the balance, and I’m going to fight for that +future. I’m not asking you to lie down. But you have it in your +power—the circumstances being as they are—to swing the Flagg interests +in with ours to mutual advantage. Why isn’t that better than a fight?”</p> + +<p>“It would be better!”</p> + +<p>Craig brightened.</p> + +<p>But Latisan added: “For your interests! You’re afraid of a fight—at +Skulltree!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am,” blurted Craig, trying candor. “Let’s arrange a hitch-up!”</p> + +<p>“Now the trouble with that plan is this,” returned Latisan, quietly, +slowly. “It can’t be done, not with a man like you’ve shown yourself to +be. Hold in your temper, Mr. Craig! You’re coming round now to ask +square men to deal with you. You can’t appeal on the ground of +friendship—you haven’t tried to make any friends up here. You have +played too many tricks. We’re all doubtful in regard to your good faith, +no matter what the proposition may be. We <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>can’t deal with you. It’s all +your own doing. You are paying the penalty.”</p> + +<p>“Much obliged for the sermon!”</p> + +<p>“I could say a lot more, but it wouldn’t amount to anything in your +case.”</p> + +<p>“Then it has settled into a personal fight between you and me, has it?”</p> + +<p>“Bluntly speaking, yes!”</p> + +<p>“You have accused me of playing tricks!” Craig’s rage burst bounds. “You +young hick, you have never seen real tricks yet! You don’t think I’m +coming after you with fists or a cant dog, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I wish you were younger and would try it!”</p> + +<p>“I’m from the city. In the city we use our brains. Latisan, I have tried +to show you in the past that the Comas means business. If you’ll go back +to the Toban, where you belong, I’ll do something for you on that +Walpole matter, now that I’ve taught you a lesson.”</p> + +<p>“The Latisans are not out after charity, Mr. Craig.”</p> + +<p>“You’re out after punishment—a damnation good smashing, personally, and +you’re going to get it!”</p> + +<p>Latisan leaped from his chair and slammed the door suddenly and +violently; expecting an attack. Craig leaped back and saved his fingers +from a jamming.</p> + +<p>From behind his curtain in the morning he saw Latisan drive the Flagg +team into the tavern yard.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be coming down often, Brophy, to see Mr. Flagg. I’ll depend on you +to save out a room for me.”</p> + +<p>“Number Ten is yours if it suits.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>Craig grunted with the satisfaction of one who had received interesting +information; knowledge that Latisan would be regularly in Adonia helped +some plans which the director had been revolving.</p> + +<p>Latisan lashed his horses away toward the north.</p> + +<p>Craig took the forenoon train down over the narrow-gauge, headed for New +York. He was seeking that aid of which he had boasted—city brains. In +handling certain affairs of his in the past he had found the Vose-Mern +Detective Agency both crafty and active—and the roundabout method of +craft, he decided, was the proper way to get at Latisan, without +involving the Comas folks in any scandal.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span><a name="nine" id="nine"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">NOT cattishly, but with patronizing pity, Miss Leigh, bookkeeper, +remarked to Miss Javotte, filing clerk, that if Miss Kennard did not +change that green toque with the white quill to something else pretty +soon, she could be identified by her hat better than by her +fingerprints.</p> + +<p>Miss Leigh had been showing one of her new spring hats to Miss Javotte; +she was able to express a <em>sotto voce</em> opinion about Miss Kennard’s +toque because Miss Kennard, stenographer, was rattling her typewriter +full tilt. Miss Javotte agreed, spreading her fingers fan shape and +inspecting certain rings with calm satisfaction. “And not even a +rock—only that same old-fashioned cameo thing—speaking of fingers.”</p> + +<p>“I was speaking of fingerprints,” said Miss Leigh, tartly, frowning at +the display of rings, perfectly well aware that they were not bought on +the installment plan out of a filing clerk’s wages.</p> + +<p>It was quite natural for Miss Leigh to speak of fingerprints. She was an +employe in the Vose-Mern offices. “Vose-Mern Bureau of Investigation” +was the designation on the street corridor directory board of a building +in the purlieus of New York City Hall. On the same board other parties +frankly advertised themselves as detectives. The Vose-Mern agency called +its men and women by the name of operatives. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>The scope of its +activities was unlimited. It broke strikes, put secret agents into +manufacturing concerns to stimulate efficiency, or calculatingly and in +cold blood put other agents in to wreck a concern in the interests of a +rival. It was a matter of fees. Mern could defend the ethics of such +procedure with interesting arguments; he had been an inspector of police +and held ironic views of human nature; he had invented an anticipatory +system, so he called it, by which he “hothoused” criminal proclivities +in a person in order to show the person’s latent possibilities up to an +employer before damage had been wrought to the employer’s business or +funds. That is to say—and this for the proper understanding of Mr. +Mern’s code in his operations as he moved in the special matters of +which this tale treats—his agency deliberately set women of the type +well hit off by the name “vamps” “sicked” those women onto bank clerks +and others who could get a hand into a till, and if the women were able +to cajole the victim to the point of stealing or of grabbing in order to +make a get-away to foreign parts with the temptress, the trick was +considered legitimate work of the “anticipatory” sort. The operative +would order the treasure <em>cached</em>, would appoint the day and hour for +the get-away—and a plain-clothes man would be waiting at the <em>cache</em>! +The Vose-Mern system thus nabbed the culprit, who had revealed his lack +of moral fiber by reason of the hothouse forcing of the situation; Mern +insisted that if the germ were there it should be forced. By his plan +the loot was pulled back and returned to the owner.</p> + +<p>Mern had broken the big paper-mill strike for the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>Comas Consolidated; +he calmly assured his clients that he could furnish a thousand men as +well as one. When he did a thing it was expensive—for he had bands of +picked men always on call, and the men must be paid during their loafing +intervals, waiting for other strikes.</p> + +<p>Craig had been close to Mern during the strike. Mern stated that the +ethics of the law allowed a lawyer to defend and extricate, if he could, +a criminal whom he knew was hideously guilty; the lawyer’s smartness was +applauded if he won by law against justice. Mern excused on the same +lines his willingness to accept any sort of a commission. It was a +heartless attitude—Mern admitted that it was and said that he didn’t +pose as a demon. He seemed to get a lot of comfort out of declaring that +if the fellow he was chasing had the grit and smartness to turn around +and do Mern up, Mern would heartily give the fellow three cheers. Thus +did Mern put his remarkable business on the plane of a man-to-man fight +by his argument, not admitting that there was any baseness in his plots +and his persecution.</p> + +<p>Miss Lida Kennard, as confidential stenographer, was deep into the +methods of Mern. It was Mern’s unvarying custom to have Miss Kennard in +to listen to and take down all that a client had to state. She was +extremely shocked in the first stages of her association with the +Vose-Mern agency by the nature of the commissions undertaken. But it was +the best position she had secured, after climbing the ladder through the +offices of more or less impecunious attorneys. She needed the good pay +because her mother <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>was an invalid; she continued to need the pay after +her mother died. There were bills to be settled. She had grown used to +setting the installments on those bills ahead of new hats, and the cameo +ring which had been her mother’s keepsake was for the sake of memory, +not adornment.</p> + +<p>By dint of usage, the Vose-Mern business had come to seem to her like a +real business. Certainly some big men came and solicited Mern’s aid and +appeared to think that his methods were proper. In course of time, +listening to Mern’s ethics, she came to accept matters at their +practical value and ceased to analyze them for the sake of seeking for +nice balances of right and wrong. She was in and of the Vose-Mern +organization! She sat in on conferences, wrote down placidly plots for +doing up men who had not had the foresight to hire Mern—Vose had been +merely an old detective, and he was dead—and she sometimes entertained +a vague ambition to be an operative herself. She liked pretty hats and +handsome rings—though she was scornfully averse to the Leigh-Javotte +system as she was acquainted with it by the chance remarks the +associates dropped. As to operatives—Miss Kennard had heard—well, she +had heard Miss Elsham, for instance, a crack operative, reveal what the +rewards of the regular work were; and, the way Miss Elsham looked at it, +a girl did not have to lower her self-respect.</p> + +<p>In the midst of these thoughts, getting a side glance at the new hat +which Miss Leigh was showing to Miss Javotte, Miss Kennard was called to +conference; the buzzer summoned her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>Mern introduced her to the client of the day; the chief made that his +custom; it always seemed to put the client more at his ease because an +introduction made her an important member of the party—and Mern +stressed the “confidential secretary” thing.</p> + +<p>The client was Director Craig of the Comas company.</p> + +<p>He rose with a haste which betrayed a natural susceptibility to the +charms of pretty women. He cooed at her rather than spoke, altering his +natural tone, smoothing out all the harshness; it was that clumsy +gallantry by which coarse men strive to pay court to charm.</p> + +<p>The girl warranted the approving gaze which Mr. Craig gave to her. He +looked from her frank eyes to her copper-bronze hair, which seemed to +have a glint of sunshine in its waves. He liked the uplift of that round +chin—he remembered that it had seemed to indicate spirit—and he liked +spunk in a girl. He had enjoyed the conferences of the days of the +strike-breaking when he could survey her profile as she busied herself +with her writing, admiring the beauty curve of her lips.</p> + +<p>Now he was thrilled by her manner of recognition; he had not expected +that much.</p> + +<p>“I remember you, Mr. Craig,” she assured the big man, her fingers as +firm in the grip as were his. “You were in here so much on the strike +matter two years ago.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a long time for a New York young lady to remember a man from the +north woods.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>“To save myself from seeming like a flatterer, I must say it’s because +of the woods feature that I remember you so well. The forest interests +me. I’m afraid I’m inclined to be very foolish about the woods. Why, in +a cafeteria—last fall—there <span class="nowrap">was——”</span></p> + +<p>But she checked herself and flushed. She turned to Mern. “I beg your +pardon. I’m ready.” She sat down and opened her notebook.</p> + +<p>“But what about it?” quizzed Craig.</p> + +<p>“A mere chance meeting with a man from the north country. I really don’t +understand why I mentioned it. My interest in the woods—the thought of +the woods—tripped my tongue.” She nodded to the stolid Mern as if to +remind him of the business in hand, and Mern ducked his square head at +Craig.</p> + +<p>It was the habit of Mern to go thoroughly over a case with a client +before calling in Miss Kennard. At the second going-over in her presence +the topic was better shaken down, was in a more solidified form for her +notebook. The Comas director had already told his story once to the +chief.</p> + +<p>Craig leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling, again +collecting his data in his mind. He had dictated before to Miss Kennard +and knew how Mern wanted his names and his facts. “Subject, the spring +drives on the Noda water. Object, hanging up or blocking the independent +drive of Echford Flagg <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>Miss Kennard’s pencil slipped somehow. It fell from her fingers, bounced +from the floor on its rubber <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>tip, and ticked off the sharpened lead +when it hit the floor again.</p> + +<p>Lida darted for it, picked it up, and ran out of the room. “I’m going +for another,” she explained.</p> + +<p>She was gone for some time. Craig glanced out of the window into the +slaty sky, from which rain was falling. It was a day unseasonably warm +and humid for early spring. “I hope it’s raining in the Noda. But it’s +just as liable to be snow. Latisan can’t do much yet awhile.” He looked +at his watch as if starting the Noda drives was a matter of minutes. He +was showing some impatience when Miss Kennard returned. She went to the +window, and sat in a chair there, her face turned from them. “If you +don’t mind,” she apologized. “It’s on account of the light. I can hear +perfectly from here.”</p> + +<p>She heard then that the Comas wanted to put Echford Flagg down and out +as an operator, now that paralysis had stricken him. She had Craig’s +assurance delivered to Mern that, without a certain Ward Latisan old +Flagg would not be able to bring his drive down. The Comas director +declared that an ordinary boss could never get along with the devils who +made up the crew. He declared further that Latisan was of a sort to suit +desperadoes and had put into the crew some kind of fire which made the +men dangerous to vested interests on the river. He devoted himself to +Latisan with subdued profanity, despite the presence of the young woman. +He averred that Latisan himself had no love for Flagg—nobody up-country +gave a tinker’s hoot for Flagg, anyway. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>He insisted, desperate in spite +of certain modifying private convictions, that Latisan could be pried +off the job if some kind of a tricky influence could be brought to bear +or if his interest in the fight, as just a fight, could be dulled or +shifted to something else or side-tracked by a ruse. He pictured Flagg +as a man for whom nobody would stand up in his present state, now that +he was sick and out of the game.</p> + +<p>“I hate to kick a cripple, even in my business,” demurred Mern. “I have +flashes of decency,” he continued, dryly. “You seem to be particularly +set on getting to the lumberjack, Latisan. Can’t you do him up, and then +let Flagg have half a show for this season—probably his last?”</p> + +<p>“Now you’re talking of violence to Latisan, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Let the plug-ugly have what he seems to be looking for,” advised Mern. +“That is, if I get it straight from you what his nature is.”</p> + +<p>“He’s all of that—what I have said,” reaffirmed Craig, venomously. “But +look here, Mern, you can’t go up into that region, where everything is +wide open to all men, and kill a man or abduct him. I’m obliged to +gum-shoe. I have to keep my own executive details away from the home +office, even. We’re waiting on the courts for law and on the legislature +for more favors.” Craig was sweating copiously, and he wiped his +forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s touchy business. If I can pull +old Flagg into camp, it’s my biggest stroke outside of nailing the +Latisans in the Tomah. A monopoly will give us settled prices and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>control of the flowage. But I insist on doing the job through Latisan. +I’m after him! Now do some thinking for me. No violence, +however—nothing which can be traced to the Three C’s.”</p> + +<p>In the silence Miss Kennard asked, “How do you spell Latisan, Mr. +Craig?”</p> + +<p>He told her. “First name Ward. He’s the grandson of old John of the +Tomah.”</p> + +<p>“I’m trying to get the facts straight for Mr. Mern. Do I understand you +to say that the Latisans have failed in their business?”</p> + +<p>“They’re down and out. I gave the young fool a good tip to save the +remnants, but he wouldn’t take it. The only thing I’ll give him after +this is poison—if it can’t be traced to me or my company.”</p> + +<p>Mern had swung about in his chair, his vacant stare on the murky sky, +doing the thinking to which he had been exhorted by his client. “Suppose +I slip a picked crowd of my operatives into his crew?”</p> + +<p>“He’s too wise to take on strangers. And while he’s on the job with the +crew the men are so full of that hell-whoop spirit that they can’t be +tampered with. Mern, he’s got to be cut out of the herd.”</p> + +<p>“What’s his particular failing?”</p> + +<p>Craig, if his sour rage against Latisan had been less intense, might +have been less ready to believe that Latisan had taken several months +off as a prodigal son. But Craig wanted to believe that the young man +had been doing what scandal said he had done. That belief strengthened +Craig’s hopes. He affected to believe in the reports. He told Mern that +Latisan <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>had been leading a sporting life in the city until the family +money gave out.</p> + +<p>“How about bumping him on his soft spot?”</p> + +<p>Craig asked questions with his eyes, blinking away the perspiration.</p> + +<p>“With a girl,” Mern explained. “With one who looks as if she had been +picked right out of the rosy middle of the big bouquet he was attracted +by in the city. With the background of the woods, a single bloomer will +surely hold his attention.”</p> + +<p>Craig showed interest; he had been obliged to pass up violence, bribery, +bluster. This new plan promised subtlety and subterfuge that would let +out the Three C’s. “Got her?”</p> + +<p>“Call Miss Elsham on the phone, Miss Kennard! You may do it from the +other room. Ask her to hurry down.”</p> + +<p>The girl, her face hidden from them, paused at the door. “Are there more +notes? Shall I come back?” She was having difficulty with her voice, but +the men were now talking eagerly about the new plan, and her +discomposure was not remarked.</p> + +<p>“I think not,” said Mern. “Write out what you have. Make especially full +characterizations of Flagg and Latisan as you have gathered facts about +them from our talk.” He had found Miss Kennard to be especially apt in +that work. Not only did she deduce character from descriptions, but she +worked in many valuable suggestions as to how men of a certain nature +should be handled. She seemed to understand the vagaries of men’s +dispositions very well indeed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>“What’s the matter with Ken?” muttered Miss Javotte, nudging the +bookkeeper.</p> + +<p>Lida had flung her arms across the frame of her typewriter and had +hidden her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>“Headache,” returned Miss Leigh, sapiently. “That toque has struck into +the brain. No girl ought to take chances that way.”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span><a name="ten" id="ten"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">HOWEVER, by the time Miss Marguerite Elsham—having given full attention +to her person and attire—arrived at the office, Miss Kennard had +completed her manuscript and the sheets were lying at Mern’s elbow on +his desk.</p> + +<p>In order to bridge a part of the gap of waiting Mern had given his +client some information about Miss Elsham and her ability.</p> + +<p>“Very competent on the coax, Mr. Craig. Last job was a paying teller. He +had twenty thousand in his jeans when he stepped out of the taxi that +had taken him and Elsham to the steamer dock. Tickets for Rio! Crowley, +our pinch artist, nabbed him and bawled out Elsham, who was weeping in +the cab. Crowley and Elsham work well together. You understand that if +she goes to the woods Crowley must go along on the side. They won’t +appear as knowing each other. But Crowley may be called on to shove his +mitt between Elsham and trouble.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care how many are on pay—if you achieve results,” said Craig.</p> + +<p>The field director, introduced to Miss Elsham when she entered breezily, +termed her in his thoughts as being at least a 1925 model. He wondered +just what words he would find in the way of advice about toning down her +style for north country operations.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>She took her seat sideways on the edge of Mern’s desk, thus testifying +to her sure standing in the establishment, her tightly drawn skirt +displaying an attractive contour. For a fleeting moment—hating Latisan +so venomously—Craig rather envied Latisan his prospects as a victim.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham produced a silver cigarette case, lighted up, and exhaled +twin streams of smoke from a shapely nose. “Shoot!” she counseled.</p> + +<p>Mern, after his slow fashion, fumbled with the sheets of Miss Kennard’s +manuscript.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham thriftily utilized the moments allowed her by Mern’s +hesitation. She always tried to impress a client favorably. “I don’t +presume to pick and choose when it comes to cases,” she informed Craig. +“I’m an All-for-the-good-cause Anne! But I hope—I’m allowed to hope, I +suppose—I do hope that my next one is going to remember some of the +lessons he learned at mother’s knee. The last one had forgotten +everything. I was dragged through cafés till at the present time a +red-shaded table lamp and a menu card make me want to bite holes in any +man with a napkin over his arm. I’ve danced to jazz and listened to +<span class="nowrap">cabaret——”</span></p> + +<p>Mern was trying to say something, but she rattled on: “And that flask on +his hip—he must have done all his breathing while he was asleep; he +never allowed time enough between drinks while he was awake.”</p> + +<p>“The next one is different,” stated Mern.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged! But of course it’s cafés again <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>Mern sliced off her complaints, chopping his flat hand to and fro in +the air. “Nothing to it, sis! It’s a tall-timber job, this time.”</p> + +<p>“In the woods—the real woods,” supplemented Craig.</p> + +<p>“Great!” indorsed Miss Elsham, accustomed to meeting all phases of +action with agility. “I’ve just seen a movie with that kind of a girl in +it. Leggings and knicks. I can see myself. Great!”</p> + +<p>Director Craig surveyed her and nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>“We’ll decide on what part you’ll play before we measure you for a rig,” +objected the chief, with his official caution. “Listen to the size-up of +your man.” He began to read from Miss Kennard’s manuscript. “‘Ward +Latisan. Young woodsman. Has lived and worked among rough men and has no +particular amount of moral stamina, a fact shown by his desertion of his +father in time of need in order to indulge in orgies in the city.’”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s to go and set my hook and fish him out of the woods, and then +he and I lean on our elbows across from each other—the cafés some +more,” said Miss Elsham, pouting.</p> + +<p>Mern suspended, for a moment, his reading and addressed Craig. “Miss +Kennard, of course, is sizing up according to what you have said of +Latisan. You’re sure about his weakness for dames, are you? We don’t +want to give Miss Elsham any wrong tips.”</p> + +<p>Craig hung tenaciously to his estimate of Latisan, in no mood to uproot +the opinion which gossip had implanted and hatred had watered. And at +the end <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>of his arraignment he attempted an awkward compliment. “And +even if he could have stood out against the Queen of Sheba up till now, +I’ll say <span class="nowrap">he’ll——”</span> Craig gazed with humid indorsement of Miss Elsham’s +attractions and waved his hand in the way of a mute completion of the +sentence.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham smiled broadly and patted together her manicured thumbnails. +“Loud applause!” she cried. “Pardon me if I don’t blush, sir. I have +used up my stock. The last case was oozing with flattery—after the +flask had got in its work.”</p> + +<p>Mern went on with his reading, portraying the character of Latisan as +Miss Kennard had gathered and assimilated data. She had even gone to the +extent of giving Latisan a black mustache and evil eyes.</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” objected Craig. “Nothing was said about his looks. She’s +picking that up because I was strong on how he had acted. He doesn’t +look as savage as he is; he fools a lot of folks that way,” stated +Craig, in surly tones.</p> + +<p>“Well, how will I know when I meet up with him in the woods?”</p> + +<p>“You go to the Adonia tavern and make your headquarters, and you won’t +miss him. How does the thing look to you as a proposition?” demanded +Craig, solicitously. “You ought to know pretty well what you can do with +men, by this time.”</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham tossed away her cigarette butt and referred mutely to Mern +by a wave of her hand.</p> + +<p>“She always gets ’em—gets the better of the best of ’em. Rest easy,” +said the chief.</p> + +<p>“And it must be worked easy,” warned Craig, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>catching at the word. +“That’s why you’re in it, Miss Elsham, instead of its being a man’s +fight up there. We can’t afford to let Latisan slam that drive down +through our logs, as he threatens to do. If he does it—if we turn on +Flagg and sue for damages, as we can do, of course—court action will +only bring out a lot of stuff that better be kept covered. I want the +agency to understand fully, Mern!”</p> + +<p>“We’re on.”</p> + +<p>“I’m achieving results without showing all the details to the home +office. And I’m not a pirate. You spoke of kicking a cripple, Mern. +We’ll take over Flagg’s logs as soon as he gets reasonable. His fight is +only an old notion about the independents sticking on. Sawmills are in +our way these days. Flagg is done, anyway. He ought to be saved from +himself. I’m after Latisan. He’s ready to fight and to ruin Flagg,” +declared Mr. Craig, with a fine assumption of righteous desire to aid a +fallen foe, “just to carry out his grudge against me—using Flagg’s +property as his tool. It’ll be too bad. So get busy, Miss Elsham—and +keep him busy—off the drive.”</p> + +<p>“Read on, Chief,” she implored Mern. “I’m seeing as quick as this just +how I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>The conference continued.</p> + +<p>When Miss Elsham departed she stopped in the main office on her way out. +“Good-by, girls! I’m off for the big sticks. I’ll bring each of you a +tree.”</p> + +<p>She went to a mirror, taking out her vanity case. Beside the mirror were +hooks for hats and outer garments. “Perfect dream!” she commented, +examining a hat. “Whose?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>“Mine,” said Miss Leigh.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham took the hat in admiring hands, dislodging a green toque, +which fell upon the floor. She did not notice the mishap to the toque +and left it where it had fallen. She touched up her countenance and went +away.</p> + +<p>“Your hat is on the floor,” Miss Leigh informed Miss Kennard. The girl +did not reply; she was looking down upon the keys of her typewriter, and +her demeanor suggested that her heart was on the floor, too.</p> + +<p>When Lida sat by the open window of her room that evening her depression +had become doleful to the point of despair.</p> + +<p>The night was unseasonably warm with enervating humidity; in that +atmosphere the dormant germs of the girl’s general disgust with the +metropolis and all its affairs were incubated. Breathing the heavy air +which sulked at the window, she pondered on the hale refreshment of the +northern forests. But it seemed to her that there was no honesty in the +woods any more. That day, fate searching her out at last, she had been +dragged in as a party in a plot against her stricken grandfather. She +indulged her repugnance to her employment; it had become hateful beyond +all endurance. Her association with the cynical business of the agency +and her knowledge of the ethics of Mern had been undermining the +foundations of her own innate sense of what was inherently right, she +reflected, taking account of stock.</p> + +<p>Dispassionately considered, it was not right for her to use her acquired +knowledge of the plot against <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>Echford Flagg in order to circumvent the +plans of an employer who trusted her. But after a while she resolutely +broke away from the petty business of weighing the right and the wrong +against each other; she was bold enough to term it petty business in her +thoughts and realized fully, when she did so, that her Vose-Mern +occupation had damaged her natural rectitude more than she had +apprehended.</p> + +<p>But there was something more subtle, on that miasmatic metropolitan +night, something farther back than the new determination to break away +from Mern and all his works of mischief. It was not merely a call of +family loyalty, a resolve to stand by the grandfather who had disowned +his kin. She was not sure how much she did care for the hard old man of +the woods. But right then, without her complete realization of what the +subtle feeling was, the avatar of the spirit of the Open Places was +rising in her. She longed avidly for the sight and the sound of many +soughing trees. She was urged to go to her own in some far place where +her feet could touch the honest earth instead of being insulated by the +pavements which were stropped glossy by the hurry of the multitude.</p> + +<p>That urge really was just as insistent as consideration of the personal +elements involved, though she did not admit it, not being able to +analyze her emotions very keenly right then. Family affection needs +propinquity and service to develop it. Her sentiments in regard to +Echford Flagg were vague. This Latisan, whoever he was, was plainly a +rough character with doubtful morals who was loyal to a grudge <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>instead +of to her grandfather. She knew what the Elsham girl had been able to +with other men, in the blasé city; it stood to reason that in the woods, +having no rivals to divert the attentions of a victim, Elsham would be +still more effective.</p> + +<p>At last, having kept her thoughts away from an especial topic because of +the shame that still dwelt with her, Lida faced what she knew was the +real and greater reason for her growing determination to step between +Echford Flagg and his enemies. Alfred Kennard had stolen money from +Echford Flagg. Sylvia Kennard had grieved her heart out over the thing. +There were the bitter letters which Lida had found among her mother’s +papers after Sylvia died. The mother had torn the name from the bottoms +of those letters; it was as if she had endeavored to shield Echford +Flagg from the signed proof of utter heartlessness.</p> + +<p>The debt to Echford Flagg had not been canceled. Could the daughter of +Alfred Kennard repay in some degree for the sake of the father? That +sense of duty surmounted all qualms involved in the betrayal of an +employer, if it could be called betrayal, considering the ethics that +had been adopted and preached by Mern.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when she reached her firm decision. She would go to the +north country. She would do her best, single-handed, as opportunity +might present itself. She would fight without allowing her grandfather +to know her identity. Perhaps she might tell him when it was all over, +if she won. The debt was owed by the father; it might help if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>it was +known that the daughter had paid. Then she would go away; it was not in +her mind to gain any favor for herself. If she merely ran to him, +tattling an exposure of the plot, Echford Flagg, if her well-grounded +estimate of his character were correct, might repudiate her as a mere +tale-bearer; she remembered enough to know that he was a square fighter. +She felt that she had some of the Flagg spirit of that sort in her. She +had been fighting her battle with the world without asking odds of +anybody or seeking favors from her only kin.</p> + +<p>She would go north and do her best, for her own, according to the code +she had laid down.</p> + +<p>She was conscious then, having made up her mind, of the subtle longing +that was back of the fierce impatience to repay her father’s debt: the +woods of the north and the hale spirit of the Open Places were calling +her home again.</p> + +<p>She would not admit to herself that she was engaged in a quixotic +enterprise, and in order to keep herself from making that admission she +resolutely turned her thoughts away from plans. To ponder on plans would +surely sap her courage. She could not foresee what would confront her in +the north country and she was glad because her ideas on that point were +hazy. It was not in her mind to hide herself from the other operatives +of the Vose-Mern agency when she was at the scene; her experience had +acquainted her with the efficacy of guile in working with human nature, +and she was well aware that her bold presence where the operatives were +making their campaign would prove such a mixture <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>of honesty and guile +that Miss Elsham and Crowley, and even Mern, himself, when he learned, +would be obliged to expend a portion of their energy on guessing.</p> + +<p>She did not know how or whether one girl could prevail against the +organization threatening her grandfather and Latisan, but she was fully +determined to find out.</p> + +<p>She served the agency dutifully for one more day. She learned that the +two operatives had started for the north.</p> + +<p>A day later she departed from New York on their trail. She did not +inform Chief Mern that she was leaving.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span><a name="eleven" id="eleven"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">ADONIA, terminus of the narrow-gauge, has one train arrival per day, in +the late afternoon. That arrival always attracts the populace of the +village. The train brings freight and mail and passengers.</p> + +<p>Ward Latisan had come down from the headwaters of the Noda and was at +the station, waiting for the train. He had ordered more dynamite for the +drive and proposed to take especial charge of the consignment. The drive +was starting off slowly. There was ice in the gorges; the first logs +through would have the freshet head of water. Latisan had heard more +threats and he had definitely detected the trigs which the river bosses +of the Three C’s were laying—and he had ordered more dynamite!</p> + +<p>The arriving train dragged slowly into the station and Latisan kept pace +with the freight car which was attached next behind the locomotive.</p> + +<p>The conductor swung off the steps of the coach before the train halted. +He hailed Latisan, calling the name loudly. He beckoned with vigor and +the drive master swung around and walked back to meet the trainman.</p> + +<p>“I did my best, Latisan, to have your shipment loaded from the freight +car on the main line, but they wouldn’t let me.”</p> + +<p>“Who wouldn’t?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>“Our super. He was acting under orders from higher up. There was a +special officer on hand to see that the orders were obeyed. Law says +that explosives shall not be conveyed on a mixed train.”</p> + +<p>“I know all about that law,” retorted Latisan. “But it has been eased up +on in these parts because you pull a passenger coach on every train.”</p> + +<p>“But law is law; it has been jammed down on us!”</p> + +<p>“You mean that Craig has put the twist ring into your snout,” shouted +the drive master. “And he’s leading your railroad by the nose like he’s +leading a good many others in the Noda country.”</p> + +<p>“I’m only a hired <span class="nowrap">man——”</span></p> + +<p>“And the Three C’s will have everybody in this section hired if the +money holds out, and that’s the hell of it!”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Latisan, you’re on railroad property, and that’s no kind of +talk to have over in front of passengers.”</p> + +<p>The train was at a standstill; the new arrivals were on the platform.</p> + +<p>Latisan, well advertised by the name the conductor had bawled, glanced +around and perceived that he was the center of observation. Especially +was he concerned with the direct stare of a young woman; she continued +to regard him steadfastly and he allowed his attention to be engaged +with her for a moment.</p> + +<p>Latisan had his own mental tags for womankind; this was “a lady.” He had +set himself back to the plane of the woods and his rough associates. He +felt a woodsman’s naïve embarrassment in the presence of a lady. Her +survey of him was rebuke for his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>language, he was sure. There could be +no other reason why “a lady” should look at a man who was fresh down +from the drive, unshaven and roughly garbed. She was from town, he could +see that. Those sparkling eyes seemed like something that was aimed at +him; he was in a helpless, hands-up sort of mood!</p> + +<p>He pulled off his cap. He had the courageous frankness of sincere +manhood, at any rate. “I’m sorry! I was expecting dynamite. It didn’t +come. I blew up just the same.”</p> + +<p>The lady smiled.</p> + +<p>Then she turned and started away.</p> + +<p>A stout man had been standing close behind her. Nobody among the +loungers at the railroad station entertained any doubt whatever as to +just what this stranger was. His clothes, his sample case, his ogling +eyes, his hat cockily perched on one side of his head proclaimed him “a +fresh drummer,” according to Adonia estimates.</p> + +<p>He leaped forward and caught step with the girl. “Pardon! But I’m going +your way! Allow me!” He set his hand on her traveling case.</p> + +<p>She halted and frowned. “I thank you. I can carry it myself!”</p> + +<p>“But I heard you asking the conductor the way to the hotel. I’m going +right there!”</p> + +<p>“So am I, sir! But not in your company.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come on and be sociable! We’re the only two of our kind up among +these bushwhackers.”</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham’s fellow operative was stressing his play; he grabbed away +her bag. “We may as well <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>get a quick rise out of him,” muttered +Crowley. It was a plan they had devised in case their man should help +their luck by being at the railroad station.</p> + +<p>“I’ll call an officer!” she threatened.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need to,” Latisan informed her. He had followed the couple. +“Besides, there isn’t any. The only place they need officers is in a +city where a rab like this is let run loose.” He leaped to the stout +chap and yanked away the girl’s bag. “I’ll carry it if you’re going to +the tavern.”</p> + +<p>She accepted his proffer with another smile—a smile into which she put +a touch of understanding comradeship. They walked along together.</p> + +<p>There was no conversation. The spring flood of the Noda tumbled past the +village in a series of falls, and the earth was jarred, and there was an +everlasting grumble in the air. The loungers stared with great interest +when the drive master and the girl went picking their way along the +muddy road.</p> + +<p>The volunteer squire delivered the traveling bag into the hand of Martin +Brophy, who was on the porch of the tavern, his eye cocked to see what +guests the train had delivered into his net. Mr. Brophy handled the bag +gingerly and was greatly flustered when the self-possessed young lady +demanded a room with a bath.</p> + +<p>Latisan did not wait to listen to Brophy’s apologies in behalf of his +tavern’s facilities. He touched his cap to the discomposing stranger and +marched up to the big house on the ledges; he was not approaching with +alacrity what was ahead of him.</p> + +<p>He had arrived in Adonia from headwaters the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>previous evening, and had +spent as much of that evening as his endurance would allow, listening to +Echford Flagg, sitting in his big chair and cursing the fetters of fate +and paralysis. Unable to use his limbs, he exercised his tongue all the +more.</p> + +<p>That forenoon and again in the afternoon Latisan had gone to the big +house and had submitted himself to unreasonable complaints when he +reported on what was going forward at headwaters. He had ventured to +expostulate when the master told him how the thing ought to be done.</p> + +<p>“No two drive bosses operate the same, sir. And the whole situation is +different this season.”</p> + +<p>“It was your offer to be my right hand, young Latisan—and I’m drive +boss still! You move as I order and command.”</p> + +<p>Ward was wondering how long the Latisan temperament could be restrained. +In the matter of Craig at the tavern the scion of old John had been +afforded disquieting evidence that the temperament was not to be trusted +too far.</p> + +<p>He entered the mansion without knocking; it was the custom.</p> + +<p>Flagg was reading aloud from a big Bible for which Rickety Dick had +rigged props on the arm of the chair. Dick was sitting on a low stool, +the sole auditor of the master’s declamation. The old servitor was +peeling onions from a dish between his knees; therefore, his tears of +the moment were of questionable nature.</p> + +<p>The caller stood for a time outside the open door of the room, averse to +tempting the hazard of Flagg’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>temper by an interruption of what seemed +to be absorbing all the attention of the old man.</p> + +<p>“‘My flesh and my skin hath he made old; he hath broken my bones. He +hath builded against me, and compassed me with gall and travail. He hath +set me in dark places as they that be dead of old. He hath hedged me +about, that I cannot get out: he hath made my chain heavy.’”</p> + +<p>Flagg halted and looked up from the page. “Lamentations—lamentations, +Dick! The best of ’em have whined when the smash came. It’s human nature +to let out a holler. Jeremiah did it. I’m in good company; it ain’t +crying baby; it’s putting up a real man holler. <span class="nowrap">It’s——”</span></p> + +<p>Latisan stepped through the doorway.</p> + +<p>Flagg instantly grabbed at a wooden spill that made a marker in the +volume and nipped back the pages. He shook aloft his clinched left hand. +He raised his voice and boomed. “‘And if any mischief follow, then thou +shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, +foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for +stripe.’”</p> + +<p>Flagg beat his knotted fist on the open page. “Do you hear that, +Latisan? That’s for you. I hunted it up. I haven’t had time till now to +read the Bible like I should. Plenty of good stuff in it—but in the Old +Testament, mind you! Too much turn-your-cheek stuff in the New +Testament. ’Eye for an eye.’ Do you know who said that?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I’m sorry to admit it, <span class="nowrap">but——”</span></p> + +<p>“God Almighty said it. Said it to Moses on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>mount. First +straight-arm orders from God to man. It ought to be good enough for you +and me, hadn’t it? Take it for rule o’ conduct, and if Rufe Craig says +anything to you on the drive refer him here—to headquarters!” Again he +beat his fist on the page.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what part of the Bible Craig ought to study, sir, but some +of it ought to be good for him. I’m just from the train. They wouldn’t +load our dynamite at the junction. Craig is behind that!”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t haul our dynamite?” raged Flagg. “And he has been shipping his +canned thunder through here for Skulltree by the carload! Latisan, +you’re falling down on the job. When I, myself, was attending to it, my +dynamite was loaded for Adonia all right enough!”</p> + +<p>The drive master did not reply to that amazing shifting of blame to him.</p> + +<p>“Did you say what ought to be said to that conductor?”</p> + +<p>“When I started to say something he bawled me out for using that kind of +language on railroad property.”</p> + +<p>Flagg lifted the useless right hand with his left, let it fall again, +and groaned. “How many times, and where, did you hit him? And then what +did you say?”</p> + +<p>“I did not hit him, sir. I said nothing more. And there was a lady +present.”</p> + +<p>Flagg choked and struggled with words before he could speak. “Do you +mean to tell me you’re allowing any ladee”—he put exquisite inflection +of sarcasm on the word—“to stand betwixt you and your duty, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>when that +duty is plain? Latisan, they tell me that you’re a sapgag where women +are concerned. I’m told that you have been down to the city <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Flagg, we’ll stick to the subject of the dynamite!” broke in the +young man, sharply.</p> + +<p>“Women are the same thing and belong in the talk.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll stick to the dynamite that comes in boxes.” Latisan was just +as peremptory as the master and was hurrying his business; he felt the +dog of the Latisan temperament slipping neck from the leash. “You may +have been able to make ’em haul dynamite for you, in spite of the law. I +can’t make ’em, it seems. I’m here merely to report, and to say that +I’ll have the dynamite up from the junction just the same.” He started +for the door.</p> + +<p>“By tote team—three times the cost! My Gawd! why ain’t I out and +around?” lamented the Adonia Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>Latisan wanted to say that he would pay the extra cost of transportation +out of his own pocket, if that would save argument, but he did not dare +to trust himself. He hurried out of the big house and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>On his way down the hill he was obliged to marshal a small host of +reasons for hanging on to his job; the desire to quit then and there was +looming large, potent, imperative.</p> + +<p>He was still scowling when he tramped into the office of the tavern +where many loafers were assembled. Through the haze of tobacco smoke he +saw Martin Brophy beckoning, and went to the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>desk. Brophy ran his +smutted finger along under a name; “Mrs. Dana Haines Everett, New York +City.”</p> + +<p>“She has been asking for you. Matter o’ business, she says. I’ve had to +give her the front parlor for her room. Say, she’s the kind that gets +what she goes after, I reckon. Is eating her supper served in there +private. Never was done in my tavern before.”</p> + +<p>“Business—with me?” demanded Latisan. “Brophy, what’s her own business +in these parts?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t seem to find out,” admitted the landlord, and the young man +bestowed on Brophy an expansive grin which was a comment on the latter’s +well-known penchant for gimleting in search of information. “Will say, +however, that she’s a widder—grass if I ain’t much mistook—believes +that a woman is equal to a man and should have all a man’s privileges +about going around by her lonesome if she so feels.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you seem to have extracted a fair amount of information, +considering that she’s hardly got her feet planted.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” confessed Brophy, “it came out because I made her mad when I +hinted that it was kind of queer for a woman to be traveling around +alone up here. Well, now that they’re voting, you can look for ’most +anything. What shall I tell her from you when I take in her pie?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wait on the lady after I eat my supper.”</p> + +<p>When the drive master was ushered into the parlor-presence by the +landlord, the lady was sitting in front of an open Franklin stove, +smoking a ciga<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>rette. She had made a change in attire since her arrival, +the new garb suggesting that she proposed to suit herself to the nature +of the region to which she had come. She was in knickerbocker costume, +had tipped back her chair, one foot on the hearth and the other foot +propped on her knee, and she asked Latisan to sit down, pointing to a +chair beside her. She offered a cigarette with a real masculine +offhandedness. The caller faltered something about a pipe. She insisted +that he smoke his pipe. “It rather puts strangers at their ease, don’t +you think, a little tobacco haze in the room?”</p> + +<p>Latisan, packing the bowl of his briar, agreed.</p> + +<p>“I take it that you’re well acquainted with this region?”</p> + +<p>“Fairly so, though I know the Tomah country better.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a guide, I understand.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand where you got that information, madam,” replied the +drive master, a bit pricked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember that anybody did tell me that in so many words. +Somehow it was my impression. But no matter. Please listen a moment.” +She smiled on him, checking his attempt at a statement regarding +himself; she had conned her little speech and used her best vocabulary +to impress this woodsman. “No doubt you have something very important in +the way of occupation. A man of your bearing is bound to. You needn’t +thank me for a compliment—I’m very frank. That’s the way to get on and +accomplish things quickly. So I’m frank enough to say it’s my habit to +meet men on the plane of man <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>to man. Please do not regard me as a +woman—that sort of stuff is old-fashioned in these days. I vote and pay +taxes. Yet if I were merely a woman you gave evidence on the station +platform to-day that you know how to protect one from insults. I was +attracted by that trait in you—and afterwards minded your own business +quite after my heart. I need outdoor life. I’m up here early for the +first fishing. I want to tour the woods. I may invest in timberlands. +Putting out of your mind all this foolish sex matter—as I have +explained my man-to-man theory—will you go with me? I’ll have a cook, +of course. Pardon my sudden reference to pay—I’ll pay you twice what +you’re getting now—providing you’re working for wages.”</p> + +<p>“I am working for wages. And I can’t leave the work.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I’m the master of the Flagg drive on these waters.”</p> + +<p>“And you prefer to boss rough men and endure hardship rather than to +come with me?”</p> + +<p>The bitterness of the last interview with Flagg was still with Latisan. +“If it was a matter of preference—but that isn’t the way of it!” He +returned her gaze and flushed. In spite of his resolve to go on with the +battle that was ahead, he was tempted, and acknowledged to himself the +fact; but Flagg was trying him cruelly.</p> + +<p>“You have been the drive master here for a long time—that’s why you +cannot be spared?” She tossed away her cigarette and gave him earnest +attention.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>“I’m just beginning my work with Flagg.”</p> + +<p>“Then of course you’re not vital. Let the man who used to be <span class="nowrap">master——”</span></p> + +<p>“That was Flagg, himself. He’s laid up with paralysis.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she drawled, provokingly. “A matter of conscientiousness—loyal +devotion—champion of the weak—or a young man’s opportunity to be lord +of all for the future!”</p> + +<p>“He’s an old devil to work for, and the job promises no future,” blurted +Latisan, his manner leaving no doubt as to his feelings.</p> + +<p>“Then come with me,” she invited. “If I get to own timberlands, who +knows?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head. “There are reasons why I can’t quit—not this +season.”</p> + +<p>“I hoped I’d seem to you like a good and sufficient reason,” she +returned, insinuatingly; in her anxiety to make a quick job of it, in +her cynical estimate of men as she had been finding them out in the +city, she was venturing to employ her usual methods as a temptress, +naturally falling into the habit of past procedure.</p> + +<p>She found it difficult to interpret the sudden look he gave her, but her +perspicacity warned her that she was on the wrong tack with this man of +the north country.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’re finding me a peculiar person, Mr. Latisan,” she +hastened to say. “I am. I’m quick to judge and quick to decide. Your +gallantry at the railroad station influenced me in your behalf. I like +your manners. And I know now what’s in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>your mind! You think it will be +very easy for me to find somebody else as a guide—and you’re quite sure +that you can’t give up your responsibility for a woman’s whim.”</p> + +<p>The drive master owned to himself that she had called the turn.</p> + +<p>“I’ll continue with my frankness, Mr. Latisan. It’s rather more than a +guide I’m looking for on that man-to-man plane I have mentioned. You can +readily understand. I need good advice about land. Therefore, mine is +not exactly a whim, any more than your present determination to go on +with your job is a whim. This matter has come to us very suddenly. +Suppose we think it over. We’ll have another talk. At any rate, you can +advise me in regard to other men.”</p> + +<p>She rose and extended her hand. “We can be very good friends, I trust.”</p> + +<p>He took her hand in a warm clasp. “I’ll do what I can—be sure of that.”</p> + +<p>“I feel very much alone all of a sudden. I’m depending on you. You’re +not going back to the drive right away, are you?” she asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be held here for a day or so.” The matter of the dynamite was on +his mind.</p> + +<p>“Good!” she said, and patted his arm when he turned to leave the room.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span><a name="twelve" id="twelve"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LATISAN took the forenoon train down from Adonia to the junction the +next day. He was keeping his own counsel about his intent.</p> + +<p>He had done some busy thinking during the evening after he left the new +star boarder in her parlor. In spite of his efforts to confine his +attention, in his thoughts, to business, he could not keep his mind +wholly off her attractive personality and her peculiar proposition. He +was obliged to whip up his wrath in order to get solidly down to the +Flagg affairs.</p> + +<p>By the time he went to sleep he knew that he was determinedly ugly. +There was the slur of Flagg about his slack efficiency in meeting the +schemes of Craig. There was the ireful consciousness that the +narrow-gauge folks were giving him a raw deal on that dynamite matter. +They had hauled plenty of explosive for the Comas—for Craig. To admit +at the outset of his career on the Noda that he could not get what the +Three C’s folks were getting—to advertise his impotency by making a +twenty-mile tote trip over slushy and rutted roads—was a mighty poor +send-off as a boss, he told himself. He knew what sort of tattle would +pursue him.</p> + +<p>The stout young man—that “drummer”—was at the station. Latisan was +uncomfortably conscious that this person had been displaying more or +less <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>interest in him. In the dining room at breakfast, in the office +among the loafers, and now at the railroad station the stranger kept his +eyes on Latisan.</p> + +<p>The drive master was just as ugly as he had been when he went to sleep. +He was keeping his temper on a wire edge for the purposes of the job of +that day, as he had planned the affair. He did not go up to the +impertinent drummer and cuff his ears, but the stranger did not know how +narrowly he escaped that visitation of resentment.</p> + +<p>The fellow remained on the platform when the train pulled out; it +occurred to Latisan that the fresh individual maybe wished to make sure +of a clear field in order to pursue his crude tactics with the lady of +the parlor.</p> + +<p>After the arrival at the junction Latisan had matters which gave him no +time to ponder on the possible plight of the lady.</p> + +<p>As he had ascertained by cautious inquiry, the crew of the narrow-gauge +train left it on its spur track unattended while they ate at a boarding +house. There were workmen in the yard of a lumber mill near the station, +loafing after they had eaten their lunches from their pails. The Flagg +dynamite was in a side-tracked freight car of the standard gauge. +Latisan promptly learned that the lumber-yard chaps were ready and +willing to earn a bit of change during their nooning. He grabbed in with +them; the boxes of dynamite were soon transferred to the freight car of +the narrow-gauge and stacked in one end of the car. Latisan paid off his +crew and posted himself on top of the dynamite. In one hand he held a +coupling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>pin; prominently displayed in the other hand was a fuse.</p> + +<p>“I’m in here—the dynamite is here,” he informed the conductor when that +official appeared at the door of the car, red-faced after hearing the +news of the transfer. “I’m only demanding the same deal you have given +the Three C’s. You know you’re wrong. Damn the law! I’m riding to Adonia +with this freight. What’s that? Go ahead and bring on your train crew.” +He brandished coupling pin and fuse. “If you push me too far you’ll have +a week’s job picking up the splinters of this train.”</p> + +<p>Bravado was not doing all the work for Latisan in that emergency. The +conductor’s conscience was not entirely easy; he had made an exception +in the case of the Three C’s—and Craig, attending to the matter before +he went to New York, had borne down hard on the need of soft-pedal +tactics. The conductor was not prepared to risk things with canned +thunder in boxes and an explosive young man whose possession just then +was nine points and a considerable fraction.</p> + +<p>Latisan was left to himself.</p> + +<p>At last the train from downcountry rumbled in, halted briefly, and went +on its way. From his place in the end of the freight car Latisan could +command only a narrow slice of outdoors through the open side door. +Persons paraded past on their way to the coach of the narrow-gauge. He +could see their backs only. There had been a thrill for him in the job +he had just performed; he promptly got a new and more lively thrill even +though he ridiculed his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>sensations a moment later. Among the heads of +the arrivals he got a glimpse of an object for which he had stretched +his neck and strained his eyes—the anxious soul of him in his eyes—on +the street in New York City. He saw a green toque with a white quill.</p> + +<p>As though a girl—such a girl as he judged her to be—would still be +wearing the same hat, all those months later! But that hat and the very +cock of the angle of the quill formed, in a way, the one especially +vivid memory of his life. However, he had a vague, bachelor notion that +women’s hats resembled their whims—often changed and never twice alike, +and he based no hopes on what he had seen.</p> + +<p>Whoever she was, she was on the train. But there were stations between +the junction and Adonia—not villages, but the mouths of roads which led +far into remote regions where a green toque could not be traced readily. +He acutely desired to inform himself regarding the face under that hat. +But he had made possession the full ten points of his law, sitting on +that load of dynamite. What if he should allow that train crew an +opening and give Echford Flagg complete confirmation of the report that +his drive master was a sapgag with women?</p> + +<p>After the intenseness of the thrill died out of him he smiled at the +idea that a chance meeting in New York could be followed up in this +fashion in the north country. At any rate, he had something with which +to busy his thoughts during the slow drag of the train up to Adonia, and +he was able to forget in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>some measure that he was sitting on dynamite +and would face even more menacing explosives of another kind when the +drive was on its way.</p> + +<p>He posted himself in the side door of the car when the train rolled +along beside the platform at Adonia. He had ordered men of the Flagg +outfit to be at the station with sleds, waiting for the train; they were +on hand, and he shouted to them, commanding them to load the boxes and +start north.</p> + +<p>There was a man displaying a badge on the platform—a deputy sheriff who +had his eye out for bootleggers headed toward the driving crews; the +conductor ran to the officer and reported that Latisan had broken the +law relating to the transportation of explosives; the trainman proposed +to shift the responsibility, anticipating that the sheriff might give +official attention to the cargo.</p> + +<p>Just then Latisan spied the green toque; the face was concealed because +the head was bowed to enable the toque’s wearer to pick her way down the +steps of the coach.</p> + +<p>The drive master leaped from the door of the car and his men scrambled +past him to enter.</p> + +<p>“About that <span class="nowrap">dynamite——”</span></p> + +<p>Latisan elbowed aside the questioning sheriff, and looked straight past +the officer. “If you go after me on that point you’ll have to go after +Craig and the Three C’s, too—and I’ll put the thing up to the county +attorney myself. Right now I’m busy.”</p> + +<p>The men were lugging out the boxes. “If anybody gets in your way, boys, +drop a box on his toes,” he shouted, starting up the platform.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>“Leave it to us, Mr. Latisan,” bawled one of the crew.</p> + +<p>The drive master had his eyes on the girl who was walking ahead of him. +He could hardly believe that the voicing of his name attracted her +attention. She did not know his name! But she stopped and whirled about +and stared at him.</p> + +<p>It was surely the girl of the cafeteria!</p> + +<p>She plainly shared Latisan’s amazement, but there was in her demeanor +something more than the frank astonishment which was actuating him.</p> + +<p>He pulled off his cap and hurried to her and put out his hand. “I saw +you—I mean I saw your hat. I thought it might be you—but I looked for +you in New York—for that <span class="nowrap">hat——”</span> He knew he was making a fool of +himself by his excitement and incoherence. “I have been thinking about +<span class="nowrap">you——”</span> He was able to check himself, for her eyes were showing +surprise of another sort. Her manner suggested to Latisan that she, at +any rate, had not been thinking especially about him during the months. +She had recovered her composure.</p> + +<p>“It is not surprising about the hat, Mr.—I believe I heard somebody +call your name—Mr. Latisan?” There was an inflection of polite query, +and he bowed. “My sarcastic friends are very explicit about this hat +serving as my identifier.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t know anything about girls’ hats. But +to see you away up <span class="nowrap">here——”</span></p> + +<p>She forced a flicker of a smile.</p> + +<p>“It seems quite natural to find you here in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>woods, though I believe +you did tell me that your home is over Tomah way.”</p> + +<p>He was not able to understand the strange expression on her countenance. +And she, on her part, was not able to look at him with complete +composure; she remembered the character given to this man by Craig, and +she had ventured to give him something else in her report—the swagger +of a <em>roué</em> and a black mustache!</p> + +<p>There was an awkward moment and he put his cap back on his head. He +looked about as if wondering if she expected friends. He had treasured +every word of hers in the cafeteria. She had spoken of the woods as if +her home had been there at one time.</p> + +<p>“I’m not expecting anybody to meet me—here—to-day,” she informed him, +understanding his side glances. She was showing incertitude, +uneasiness—as if she were slipping back into a former mood after the +prick of her surprise. “There’s a hotel here, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>He took her traveling case from her hand, muttering a proffer to assist +her. They walked away together. For the second time the loafers at +Adonia saw Latisan escorting a strange woman along the street, and this +one, also, was patently from the city, in spite of her modest attire.</p> + +<p>“Seems to be doing quite a wholesale business, importing dynamite and +wimmen,” observed a cynic.</p> + +<p>“According to the stories in Tomah, he has put in quite a lot of time +looking over the market in regard to that last-named,” agreed another +detractor.</p> + +<p>“And when Eck Flagg gets the news I’d rather <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>take my chances with the +dynamite than with the wimmen,” stated the cynic.</p> + +<p>“I guess I talked to you like an idiot at first,” said Latisan, when he +and his companion were apart from the persons on the station platform. +“I’m getting control of my surprise. I remember you told me you were +homesick for the woods. That’s why you’re up here, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“It’s one reason, Mr. Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry it isn’t a better time of year. I’d like to—to—If you +aren’t going to be tied up too much with friends, I could show you +around a little. But right now I’m tied up, myself. I’m drive master for +Echford Flagg—you remember about speaking of him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I shall not trouble Mr. Flagg,” she hastened to say. “He will +not be interested in me simply on account of my friends. You are very +busy on the drive, are you?” she questioned, earnestly.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes. I’ve got to start for headwaters in the morning.” There was +doleful regret in his tones.</p> + +<p>He was rather surprised to find so much pleased animation in her face; +truly, this girl from the city acted as if she were delighted by the +news of his going away; she even seemed to be confessing it. “I’m glad!” +she cried. Then she smoothed matters after a glance at his grieved and +puzzled face. “I’m glad to hear a man say that he’s devoted to his work. +So many these days don’t seem to take any interest in what they’re +doing—they only talk wages. Yours must be a wonderful work—on the +river—the excitement and all!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>“Yes,” he admitted, without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The street was muddy and they went slowly; he hung back as if he wanted +to drag out the moments of their new companionship.</p> + +<p>He cast about for a topic; he did not feel like expatiating on the +prospects ahead of him in his work. “If you’re going to make much of a +stop <span class="nowrap">here——”</span></p> + +<p>She did not take advantage of his pause; he hoped she would indicate the +proposed length of her stay, and he was worrying himself into a panic +for fear she would not be in Adonia on his next visit to report to +Flagg.</p> + +<p>“I wish we had a better hotel here, so that you’d stay all contented for +a time—and—and enjoy the country hereabouts.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t the hotel a fit place for a woman who is unaccompanied?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that isn’t it! It’s the slack way Brophy runs it. The help +question! Martin does the best he knows how, but he finds it hard to +keep table girls here in the woods. Has to keep falling back on his +nephew, and the nephew isn’t interested in the waiter job. Wants to +follow his regular line.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s that?” she asked, holding to a safe topic.</p> + +<p>“Running Dave’s stable. Nephew says the horses can’t talk back.”</p> + +<p>She stopped and faced him. “Do you think the landlord would hire me as a +waitress?” She had come to Adonia in haste, leaving her plans to hazard. +Now she was obeying sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>If she had slapped him across the face she could not have provoked more +astonishment and dismay than his countenance showed.</p> + +<p>“I have done much waiting at tables.” She grimly reflected on the cafés +where she had sought the most for her money. “I’m not ashamed to confess +it.”</p> + +<p>He stammered before he was able to control his voice. “It isn’t that. +You ought to be proud to work. I mean I’m glad—no, what I mean is I +don’t understand <span class="nowrap">why—why——”</span></p> + +<p>“Why I have come away up here for such a job?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the grit to ask any questions of you!” he confessed, +plaintively, his memory poignant on that point.</p> + +<p>The stout “drummer” had been trailing them from the station. When they +halted he passed them slowly, staring wide-eyed at the girl, asking her +amazed questions with his gaze. She flung the Vose-Mern operative a look +of real fury; she had come north in a fighting mood.</p> + +<p>“I have left the city to escape just such men as that—men who aren’t +willing to let a girl have a square chance. I lost my last position +because I slapped a cheap insulter’s face in a hotel dining hall.” She +looked over Latisan’s head when she twisted the truth. “I came north, to +the woods, just as far as that railroad would take me. I hate a city!” +Then she looked straight at him, and there was a ring of sincerity in +her tone. “I’m glad to be where those are!” She pointed to the trees +which thatched the slopes of the hills.</p> + +<p>“You’re speaking of friends of mine!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>They had stopped, facing each other. Crowley, lashed by looks from the +girl and Latisan, had hurried on toward the tavern.</p> + +<p>Lida knew that the drive master was having hard work to digest the +information she had given him.</p> + +<p>“They are standing up straight and are honest old chaps,” he went on. He +was looking into her eyes and his calm voice had a musing tone. “I like +to call them my friends.”</p> + +<p>He was trying hard to down the queer notions that were popping up. He +would not admit that he was suspecting this girl of deceit. But she was +so manifestly not what she claimed that she was! Still, there were +reverses that <span class="nowrap">might——</span></p> + +<p>“I am alone in a strange land—nobody to back my word about myself. I +must call on a reliable witness. You know the witness.” She put up her +hand and touched her hat. Then came laughter—first from her and then +from Latisan—to relieve the situation. “You saw me wearing it more than +six months ago. What better proof of my humble position in life do you +want?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t dare to tell you what you ought to be, <span class="nowrap">Miss——”</span></p> + +<p>“Patsy Jones,” she returned, glibly; his quest for her name could not be +disregarded.</p> + +<p>“But what you are right now is good enough because it’s honest work.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I can get the job?”</p> + +<p>“I am a witness of Martin Brophy’s standing offer to give one thousand +dollars for a table girl who won’t get homesick or get married.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>“Take me in and collect the reward, Mr. Latisan. I’m a safe +proposition, both ways.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not!” he blurted—and then marched on with the red flooding +beneath his tan.</p> + +<p>And though he strove to put all his belief in her word about herself, he +was conscious of a persistent doubt, and was angered by it.</p> + +<p>“If you please, I’ll do the talking to Mr. Brophy—is that his +name?—when we reach the hotel,” said the girl. “You really do not know +me.” There was a flash of honesty, she felt, in that statement, and she +wanted to be as honest as she could—not wholly a compound of lies in +her new rôle. “It might seem queer, my presenting myself under your +indorsement, as if we had been acquainted somewhere else. Gossip up here +is easily started, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It is.”</p> + +<p>He surrendered her bag to her at the porch, as if his services had been +merely the cursory politeness of one who was traveling her way. It was +in Latisan’s mind to go along to the big house on the ledges and inform +Flagg what had been done that day, and glory in the boast that there was +a new man in the region who could make a way for himself in spite of +Flagg’s opinions as to the prowess of an old man.</p> + +<p>Latisan was feeling strangely exhilarated. She had come there to stay! +Martin Brophy was in the desperate state of need to chain a girl like +that one to a table leg in his desire to keep her. And she had announced +her own feelings in the matter! She was in the Noda—the girl who had +stepped out of his life never to enter it again, so he had feared in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>his lonely ponderings. He was in the mood of a real man at last! He was +resolved to take no more of Echford Flagg’s contumely. He was heartsick +at the thought of starting north and leaving her in the tavern, to be +the object of attentions such as that cheap drummer man bestowed when he +passed them on the street.</p> + +<p>The plea of the lady of the tavern parlor had made merely a ripple in +his resolves. He had not thought of her or her proposition during that +busy day.</p> + +<p>Now he was wondering whether the fight for Flagg—the struggle against +Craig, even for vengeance, was worth while.</p> + +<p>Lida was having no difficulty in locating the landlord. He stood just +beyond the dining-room door and was proclaiming that he was the boss and +was shaking his fist under the nose of a surly youth who had allowed +several dishes to slide off a tray and smash on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to hire a waitress from the city?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“You bet a tin dipper I do,” snapped back Brophy.</p> + +<p>“I’m ready to begin work at once. If you’ll show me my <span class="nowrap">room——”</span></p> + +<p>“You go up one flight, by them stairs there, and you pick out the best +room you can find—the one that suits you! That’s how much I’m willing +to cater to a city waitress. And you needn’t worry about wages.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not worry, sir.” She hurried up the stairs.</p> + +<p>The hostler-waiter slammed down the tray with an ejaculation of +thankfulness. Brophy picked up the tray and banged it over the youth’s +head. “You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>ain’t done with the hash-wrassling till she has got her feet +placed. Sweep up that litter, stand by to do the heavy lugging, and take +your orders from her and cater to her—cater!”</p> + +<p>Latisan, lingering on the porch, had hearkened and observed. He caught a +glimpse of himself in the dingy glass of the door. He scrubbed his hand +doubtfully over his beard. Then he turned and hurried away.</p> + +<p>The single barber shop of Adonia was only a few yards from the door of +the tavern. There was one chair in the corner of a pool room.</p> + +<p>Latisan overtook a man in the doorway and yanked him back and entered +ahead.</p> + +<p>“I’m next!” shouted the supplanted individual.</p> + +<p>“Yes, after me!” declared Latisan, grimly. He threw himself into the +chair. “Shave and trim! Quick!”</p> + +<p>The barber propped his hands on his hips. “What’s the newfangled idea of +shedding whiskers before the drive is down?”</p> + +<p>“Shave!” roared Latisan. “And if you’re more than five minutes on the +job I’ll carve my initials in you with your razor.”</p> + +<p>So constantly did he apostrophize the barber to hurry, wagging a +restless jaw, that blood oozed from several nicks when the beard had +been removed.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a pride in my profession, just the same as you have in your +job,” stormed the barber when Latisan refused to wait for treatment for +the cuts. “And I don’t propose to have you racing out onto the +<span class="nowrap">streets——”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>But the drive master was away, obsessed by visions of that fresh +drummer presuming further in his tactics with the new waitress. The +barber, stung to defense of his art, grabbed a towel and a piece of alum +and pursued Latisan along the highway and into the tavern office, +cornered the raging drive master, and insisted on removing the evidences +which publicly discredited good workmanship. The affair was in the +nature of a small riot.</p> + +<p>The guests who were at table in the dining room stared through the +doorway with interest. The new waitress, already on her job, gave the +affair her amused attention. Especially absorbed was the sullen youth +who halted in the middle of the room, holding a loaded tray above his +head. In his abstraction he allowed the tray to tip, and the dishes +rained down over Crowley, who was seated directly under the edge of the +tray.</p> + +<p>Latisan strode in and took his seat at the small table with the city +stranger while Brophy was mopping the guest off; the city chap had +received his food on his head and in his lap.</p> + +<p>The waitress came and stood demurely at one side, meeting the flaming +gaze of the Vose-Mern man with a look that eloquently expressed her +emotions. “Shall I repeat the order?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be fresh!” snarled Crowley.</p> + +<p>Latisan rapped his knuckles on the table warningly. “Be careful how you +talk to this lady!”</p> + +<p>“What have you got to say about it?” The stout chap started to rise.</p> + +<p>But Latisan was up first. He leaned over and set <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>his big hand, fingers +outspread like stiff prongs, upon the man’s head, and twisted the caput +to and fro; then he drove the operative down with a thump in his chair. +“This is what I’ve got to say! Remember that she is a lady, and treat +her accordingly, or I’ll twist off your head and take it downstreet and +sell it to the bowling-alley man.”</p> + +<p>It was plain that the girl was finding a piquant relish in the affair.</p> + +<p>From the moment when she came down the stairs and took the white apron +which Brophy handed to her she had ceased to be the city-wearied girl. +It was homely adventure, to be sure, but the very plainness of it, in +the free-and-easy environment of the north woods, appealed to her sense +of novelty. There was especial zest for her in this bullyragging of +Crowley by the man who was to be victim of the machinations by the +Vose-Mern agency. Her eyes revealed her thoughts. The city man opened +his mouth. He promptly shut it and turned sideways in his chair, his +back to Latisan. Detective Crowley was enmeshed in a mystery which he +could not solve just then. What was the confidential secretary doing up +there?</p> + +<p>The girl smiled down on her champion—an expansive, charming, warming +smile. “I thank you! What will you have?”</p> + +<p>She surveyed his face with concern; his countenance was working with +emotion. In her new interest, she noted more particularly than in the +New York cafeteria, that he apparently was, in spite of what Craig had +said, a big, wholesome, naïve chap <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>who confessed to her by his eyes, +then and there, that he was honestly and respectfully surrendering his +heart to her, short though the acquaintance had been, and she was +thrilled by that knowledge. She was not responding to this new appeal, +she was sure, but she was gratified because the man was showing her by +his eyes that he was her slave, not merely a presumptuous conquest of +the moment, after the precipitate manner of more sophisticated males.</p> + +<p>She repeated her question.</p> + +<p>It was evident enough what Latisan wanted at that moment, but he had not +the courage to voice his wishes in regard to her; he had not enough +self-possession left to state his actual desires as to food, even. There +was one staple dish of the drive; he was heartily sick of that food, but +he could not think of anything else right then.</p> + +<p>“Bub—bub—beans!” he stuttered.</p> + +<p>She hurried away.</p> + +<p>When she returned with her tray she did not interrupt any conversation +between the two men at the little table; the Vose-Mern man still had his +back turned on Latisan; the drive master sat bolt upright in a prim +attitude which suggested a sort of juvenile desire to mind his manners.</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes were still alight with the spirit of jest. She placed +steak and potatoes and other edibles in front of Latisan. She gave the +gentleman from the agency a big bowl of beans.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t order those!”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, sir. I must have got my orders mixed.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>“You have! You’ve given that”—he stopped short of applying any epithet +to Latisan—“you’ve given him my order!”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you try our beans—just once? The cook tells me they were baked +in the ground, woodman style.”</p> + +<p>“Then give ’em to the woodsmen—it’s the kind of fodder that’s fit for +’em.”</p> + +<p>Latisan leaned across the table and tugged Crowley’s sleeve. “Look me in +the eye, my friend!” The man who was exhorted found the narrowed, hard +eyes very effective in a monitory way. “I don’t care what you eat, as a +general thing. But you have just slurred woodsmen and have stuck up your +nose at the main grub stand-by of the drive. You’re going to eat those +beans this lady has very kindly brought. If you don’t eat ’em, starting +in mighty sudden, I’ll pick up that bowl and tip it over and crown you +with it, beans and all. Because I’m speaking low isn’t any sign I don’t +mean what I say!”</p> + +<p>The beans were steaming under the stout man’s nose. He decided that the +heat would be better in his stomach than on the top of his head; he had +just had one meal served that way. He devoured the beans and marched out +of the dining room, his way taking him past the sideboard where the new +waitress was skillfully arranging glasses after methods entirely +different from those of the sullen youth.</p> + +<p>“Don’t jazz the game any more—not with <em>me</em>,” growled Crowley, fury in +his manner. “And I want to see you in private.”</p> + +<p>She stiffened, facing him. She knew that Lat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>isan’s earnest eyes were on +her. She assumed the demeanor of a girl who was resentfully able to take +care of herself, playing a part for the benefit of the drive master. +“Attend strictly to your end of the program, Crowley!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean—my end?”</p> + +<p>“Protecting me from insults by these rough woodsmen. I suppose you are +doing the same for Miss Elsham.” Her irony was biting. He scowled and +put his face close to hers.</p> + +<p>“If you’re up here on the job—it’s not a lark. It’s a case of he-men in +these parts. If you’re not careful you’ll start something you can’t +stop.”</p> + +<p>“Keep away from me. They’re watching us. You’re bungling your part +wretchedly. Can’t you understand that I’m on the case, too?”</p> + +<p>She had planned her action, forestalling possibilities as well as she +was able. She was determined to be bold, trusting to events as they +developed.</p> + +<p>“You will kindly remember that I’m on this case along with you, and you +can’t make me jump through hoops!” Crowley, fresh from the city, narrow +in his urban conceit, was seeing red because of a petty humiliation he +had suffered in public.</p> + +<p>Another man was seeing red for a different reason. Latisan strode across +the room, nabbed Crowley by the ear, and led him into the tavern office, +where the aching ear was twisted until the city man subsided into a +chair.</p> + +<p>The girl appraised at its full value the rancor that was developing in +the Vose-Mern operative; his glaring eyes were accusing her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>But the adoring eyes of Latisan promised really more complicated +trouble for her.</p> + +<p>It was borne in on her that there were dangerous possibilities in the +frank atmosphere of the north woods. Lida had the poignant feeling of +being very much alone just then—and she was afraid!</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span><a name="thirteen" id="thirteen"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">SUPPERS were always over with early in Adonia. The red west was banded +with half on hour’s April daylight when the new waitress finished her +work. She hurried up to her room; she locked her door with the +panic-stricken air of one who desires to shut out danger.</p> + +<p>She was in no mood to question the worthiness of the impulse which had +sent her into the north, but she was realizing in fuller measure the +difficulties with which she must deal. In the dining room she had felt +recklessly intrepid and the utter mystification of Buck Crowley had +amused her. But she had had plenty of opportunity in her Vose-Mern work +to know the nature of Crowley—he had the shell of an alligator and the +scruples of a viper and would double-cross a twin brother if the project +could help the fortunes of Buck himself.</p> + +<p>Once more she admitted that she was afraid. It was if she had touched +levers and had started machinery which she could not stop; she had +launched two men at each other and had observed the first ominous +clinches—and Crowley had warned her that she was in the region of +“he-men.” But Crowley was not of a sort to use the manly weapons of the +frank fighters of the north.</p> + +<p>With the sense of hiding away from impending <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>trouble, sorry for her +share in starting it, she sat by the window, put her forehead on her +arms, wept weakly, and told herself that she was a very poor article of +a heroine.</p> + +<p>However, the sunset soothed and invited her when she wiped her eyes. She +beheld the honest outdoors of the forest country. She was hungry for +those open places of earth. She knew that her resolution was ebbing the +longer she hid herself in that hole of a room, like a terrified animal. +She put on a hat and a wrap and started out.</p> + +<p>She was perfectly well aware of the gantlet she must run.</p> + +<p>Crowley was patrolling the porch; she issued from a side door of the +tavern, but she was obliged to pass him in order to get into the street. +His high sign to her was peremptory and unmistakable—Mr. Crowley had +business with her! Right then, in spite of her planned intent to bluff +out the situation just as long as she could at that distance from Mern, +she was not in a state of mind to meet Crowley.</p> + +<p>She heard steps behind her and was accosted, but her frown of +apprehensiveness became a smile of welcome when she turned and beheld +Latisan; the welcome was not so much from interest in Latisan as from +the sense that she would have a respite from Crowley.</p> + +<p>“If you’re going to look the place over, won’t you allow me to go +along?” he pleaded. “I’ll follow behind like a terrier, if you tell me +to. I want to keep you from being bothered by anybody.”</p> + +<p>She showed concern and looked about her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>“Oh, by that cheap drummer, I mean. You needn’t ever be afraid of +woodsmen up here. I was watching him when you came out. If it wasn’t for +starting a lot of tattle I’d beat him up on the street.”</p> + +<p>“Really, you’d better come along with me, Mr. Latisan, out of the reach +of any such temptation.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you’d like to get a view of the falls from the best point,” he +suggested, as they walked on.</p> + +<p>When they turned into a path and disappeared from Crowley’s ken the +latter buttoned his coat and started leisurely on their trail.</p> + +<p>On the edge of the gorge there was a niche in the cliff, a natural seat +padded with moss. Latisan led her to the spot. He did not indulge his +longing to sit beside her; he stood at a little distance, respectfully, +and allowed her to think her thoughts. Those thoughts and her memories +were very busy just then; she was glad because the everlasting diapason +of the falls made conversation difficult.</p> + +<p>Until then, in her reflections, she had been considering Ward Latisan +merely as her stricken grandfather’s staff of hope, an aid so essential +that the Comas had determined to eliminate him. She surveyed him as he +stood there in his own and fitting milieu and found him reassuringly +stalwart as a dependable champion.</p> + +<p>Alone with him, making estimate with her eyes and her understanding, she +was conscious that her first surprise at sight of the real Latisan was +giving way to deepening interest.</p> + +<p>She reflected again on the character which had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>been given this man by +Rufus Craig, and remembered more vividly what she had written about him +for the guidance of the Vose-Mern agency.</p> + +<p>There must be something wrong in Craig’s estimate! She felt that she had +an eye of her own for qualities in a man, and this man’s clean sincerity +had impressed her in their first meeting in the New York cafeteria.</p> + +<p>He turned from his survey of the waters and met her gaze. “I was pretty +much flustered that day in New York, Miss Jones. I was more so to-day at +the railroad station. I don’t know how to act with girls very well,” he +confessed naïvely. “I want to say something right here and now. There +are mean stories going the rounds about me up in this country. I’m +afraid you’ll hear some of them. I don’t want you—I don’t want +everybody to think I’m what they are trying to make out I am—they lied +over Tomah way to hurt me in business. But perhaps you don’t care one +way or the other,” he probed, wistfully.</p> + +<p>He found encouragement in her expression and went on. “I was away at +Tech, taking a special course, and they lied about me. I was trying to +make something more of myself than just a lumberjack. And I thought +there was a chance for me to help things on the Tomah after I learned +something about engineering. I was doing my best, that’s all, and the +liars saw their opening and took it. If you hear the stories I hope you +won’t believe them.”</p> + +<p>Hastily she looked away from his earnest and imploring eyes and gave her +attention to the turbid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>freshet flood, shredded into a yellow and +yeasty riot of waters.</p> + +<p>Her recollection of childhood became clearer now that she was back +beside the cataract which was linked with all her early memories. He did +not venture to disturb her with more talk.</p> + +<p>She remained there until the chill from the air and the mist from the +falling waters and the growing dusk warned her.</p> + +<p>They were back at the edge of the village street before he spoke again. +“The falls are pretty wild now; they’re beautiful in the summer when the +water is low. When I was a boy I footed it over here from the Tomah a +few times and sat in that niche and listened to the song the waters +seemed to sing. It was worth the long hike. Being there just now brought +back something I’d almost forgotten. One day the waters sung me to sleep +and when I woke up there was a little girl dancing in front of me and +pointing her finger, and I looked at myself and saw she had made a chain +of daisies and hung it around my neck and had stuck clover blooms all +over me. And when she saw that I was awake she scampered off with some +other children. Queer how the funny little thoughts like that pop up in +a person’s mind!”</p> + +<p>Fresh from the scene, softened by her ponderings, Lida felt the surge of +an impulse to tell him that the same memory had come to her while she +sat in the niche. She was the child who had made the daisy chain—who +had been bolder than the other children in approaching the sleeping +stranger. And she was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>not ready to agree with him that the memory was +“queer.” She wished she could confess her identity to him right then, +because the confession would enable her to bring up a topic which had +been interesting her very much—how personalities, meeting as strangers, +often prompt each other through subtle psychic qualities of past +association; there were instances in the books she had read where +persons claimed to have recognized each other from past incarnations; +but Lida did not believe that stuff, she had told herself. As to the +mutual remembrance of the daisy chain—that was different—it seemed +quite natural. She could remember just how comically that boy’s nose +twitched when she was waking him up with a buttercup blossom.</p> + +<p>Latisan was conscious of a queer unwillingness to have her leave him. He +wondered what excuse he could offer to prolong the companionship of the +evening. He wanted to link up her affairs with his in some way, if he +could—that there might be something in common between them. To solicit +her aid—her counsel; it is the first hankering of a man in his striving +toward a woman’s favor.</p> + +<p>In this case, the drive master, desperately casting about for an excuse, +was guilty of something like an enormity in venturesomeness. His own +business was calling him to the big house on the ledges; in his new +state of softened spirit he was dreading any run-in with Echford Flagg. +Perhaps gossip had already carried to Flagg the reason why the drive +master had not hastened to report about the dynamite victory. To exhibit +the actual reason for the delay, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>in her own winning person, seemed a +very proper thing to do according to Latisan’s clouded judgment of the +moment.</p> + +<p>“Let me tell you!” he urged. “I’ve got to run up to Flagg’s on business. +You’ll have something to talk to him about—those <span class="nowrap">friends——”</span></p> + +<p>“No, no!” She hurried on toward the tavern.</p> + +<p>He ventured to clasp her arm, detaining her. “He’s a poor, sick old man. +A little talk with you will do him good.”</p> + +<p>Her memory was vivid. “But you told me in New York that he won’t have a +woman near his house.”</p> + +<p>“He’s different nowadays,” persisted Latisan. “He’s sick and it will be +a treat for him to have a girl say some kind words. I want him to meet +<span class="nowrap">you——”</span></p> + +<p>But she shook off his hand and resolutely kept on her way. “I must go +in. I’m tired after my long journey—and my work.” There were loafers in +front of the tavern. “I’m very much obliged to you, Mr. Latisan,” she +called so that all could hear, “for your kindness in showing me the way +to the falls. Good night!” She disappeared.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for Latisan to do but to brave the old tiger of the +big house alone. Outside of his desire to keep her with him as long as +possible, he had wanted her to go along into the presence of Flagg as a +guaranty of the peace; he did not believe that Flagg would launch +invective in the hearing of the girl; furthermore, Latisan was conscious +of a proud anxiety to exhibit her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>Flagg tipped the shade of the lamp so that Latisan’s face was +illuminated when the drive master was in the room.</p> + +<p>“Shaved!” snorted the tyrant. “All duded up and beauing around a table +girl. I know all about it. Latisan, <span class="nowrap">you——”</span></p> + +<p>“Just a moment, Mr. Flagg!”</p> + +<p>“Shaved, right in the start of the driving season! Shut up! I can see +what’s happening. I heard you had brought the dynamite. But somebody +else told me. Yes, told me other news! I can’t depend on you any longer +to bring me reports. But you’re planting something worse than dynamite +under yourself. Parading a girl and keeping me waiting <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“Let me warn you, sir. Only my pride in doing a job I have set out to do +is keeping me on with you. If you insult that young lady by another word +I’ll quit you cold, here and now!”</p> + +<p>There was a moment of silence.</p> + +<p>Rickety Dick, sitting on his stool with a cat in his arms, wriggled as +uneasily as did the cat, who had been alarmed by the high voices.</p> + +<p>“Talk about dynamite being dangerous!” muttered Flagg. “There’s +something <span class="nowrap">else——”</span></p> + +<p>But when he looked into Latisan’s countenance he lowered the shade of +the lamp and did not state what the something else was.</p> + +<p>“If you know about the dynamite, sir, there’s no need of my saying +anything. It’s on its way north. I shall start for headwaters at +daybreak. I’ll be down to report as soon as possible.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>“When you get up on the drive, you stay there, Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“It’s my pledged word that I must report to you in person. You insisted +on it. I don’t propose to give you any chance for come-backs. I shall +report, Mr. Flagg.”</p> + +<p>He walked out.</p> + +<p>Soon he heard the pattering of feet behind him on the ledges and he was +hailed cautiously by the quavering voice of old Dick.</p> + +<p>“Who is she, Mr. Latisan? Who is that girl?” panted Dick; “I saw her +when she walked with you. I was side of the road.”</p> + +<p>“And ran and tattled to Flagg, eh?”</p> + +<p>“No—no, sir! It was old Dempsey who came and gossiped. But what’s her +name?”</p> + +<p>“Patsy Jones.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure because she told me so,” retorted the drive master. “Her word +goes with me.”</p> + +<p><span class="nowrap">“But—but——”</span></p> + +<p>“But what?” Latisan’s manner was ominous.</p> + +<p>“Of course she knows who she is,” faltered old Dick. “And my eyesight +ain’t clear—and it was a long time ago—and my memory ain’t good, of +course, <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“And your wits don’t seem to be of the best, either,” snapped the young +man. “You and Flagg better keep your tongues off that young lady. Do you +understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Latisan. Yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>Latisan stepped back and took hold of Dick by <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>the sleeve of the ragged +jacket. “Who did you think she was?”</p> + +<p>“I guess I didn’t really think—I only dreamed,” was the old man’s +stammering reply. “If you say she’s Patsy Jones that’s enough for me.”</p> + +<p>“She says that she is—and that makes it so.” Latisan strode on his way.</p> + +<p>Rickety Dick lifted his arms, then he lowered them without his “Praise +the Lord!”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span><a name="fourteen" id="fourteen"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">CROWLEY, shrouded in the evening gloom, tapped on the parlor window the +signal tattoo agreed upon between himself and Miss Elsham. The light in +the parlor went out promptly and she came and replied to Crowley under +the edge of the lifted sash. She had been apprised by her associate of +the advent of Miss Kennard on the scene; Crowley had hastened to slip a +note under her door.</p> + +<p>“You saw ’em start for a walk, did you? Well, you saw me follow ’em, +then. Chased ’em to the edge of the falls and hid.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of talk is she giving him?”</p> + +<p>“Talk! I couldn’t hear. I don’t like water, anyway. I like it less when +it bangs down over rocks and stops me from hearing what I want to hear.”</p> + +<p>“What does she tell you?”</p> + +<p>“She has only shot a few words at me like beans out of an air gun. +Claims she’s here on the case.”</p> + +<p>“Do you believe that?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t dare to tell her that I don’t believe it—considering the way +she stands in with Mern. It may be his afterthought—he’s a bird that +flies funny sometimes, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Leave her to me; I’ll dredge her to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be good dope; she’ll have to bring in your meals as soon as you +give orders to Brophy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>“They’ll have to be snappy orders to make him stop bringing ’em +himself,” said Miss Elsham. “The old fool stood around while I was +eating supper and told me how much money he has saved and how lonesome +he is since his wife died. I have told him to send Latisan to me this +evening on a matter of business, no matter how late Latisan comes in. +He’s too jealous to give the word, I do believe.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t understand the hang of it—her grabbing him so quick,” lamented +Crowley. “It’s a devil of a note when we have to take time off the main +job to detect out a mystery right in our own concern! What are you going +to say about her when you write up your report to-night?”</p> + +<p>He was referring to the inviolable rule of the Vose-Mern office that a +daily report must be made by each operative.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, Buck. Let’s tread easy. We may seem to be trying to tell Mern +his business. She’s here and he must be perfectly well aware that she’s +here. Don’t you write anything in your report. Leave her to me.”</p> + +<p>“All right! You handle it.”</p> + +<p>Then Crowley departed and sat down in his room and put into his report a +full statement about Miss Kennard’s arrival and actions and his own +activity in regard to her. Crowley had elaborate ideas about the art of +double-crossing everybody, even his associates in the agency. He figured +that it could not hurt anything to give Mern a full report on all +matters; and if there was anything peculiar in Kennard’s presence there, +Crowley’s assiduity would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>contrast to his credit and shame Elsham’s +negligence. He had frequently made good hits by cajoling fellow +operatives to suppress certain matters which he had then reported to his +advantage with Mern. And Elsham, in this case, was claiming to be in +charge, making him only the watchdog of her safety.</p> + +<p>Crowley growled derogatory comments on her temptress qualities when he +peered past the edge of his curtain in the morning and looked down on +Latisan mounting into his jumper seat. The young man did not seem to be +in an amiable or a confident state of mind, and his plain dolor +comforted Crowley somewhat, even though Latisan was going back to the +drive.</p> + +<p>The drive master had not been able to see Miss Patsy Jones that morning, +as he had hoped; he had no excuse to hang around the tavern till she did +appear. Brophy served the breakfast; he declared that he was going to +hang on to that table girl if good treatment could prevail, and he was +never going to ask her to wait on early breakfasters.</p> + +<p>Crowley got additional comfort out of Latisan’s loud proclamation that +he would be down in Adonia again very soon. The drive master seemed to +be striving to draw somebody’s attention to that fact. He cast looks +behind him at the upper windows of the tavern when he drove away.</p> + +<p>That day, according to the plans he had made in New York, Mr. Crowley +took pains to give himself an occupation in Adonia; loafers who were not +bashful were quizzing him about the nature of his business up there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>The barber had one corner of the village pool room; Crowley made a +trade to occupy another corner. He opened up a case of cheap jewelry and +traded it by day and raffled it evenings; he was not molested in his +sporting propositions, as he called the procedure, after he had arranged +a private talk with the deputy sheriff. Crowley, with his fancy +waistcoat and his tip-tilted hat, fitted the rôle he was playing. He was +right in the path of all the gossip that traveled to and fro; therefore, +the rôle suited his needs.</p> + +<p>His nightly conferences with Miss Elsham at the parlor window were not +pleasant; Miss Elsham was not in a state of mind which conduced to +cordial relations.</p> + +<p>She had not been able to “dredge” Miss Kennard. That young lady waited +on Miss Elsham, but not with a tray. After a talk with Brophy, who +agreed with her absolutely and placatingly, begging her to suit herself +in all her acts provided she would stay on, Miss Kennard went into the +parlor, closed the door carefully, and told Miss Elsham where that young +woman got off as an exacting lady of leisure. “Mr. Mern would not allow +it—one operative doing menial work for another. If you choose to come +into the dining room, that’s different.”</p> + +<p>Miss Kennard then turned and walked out. She refused to stay with Miss +Elsham and have a talk. “We are ordered to be very careful up here,” she +reminded the operative. Miss Elsham was impressed. It was as if Mern +were sending new cautions by this latest arrival.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>Miss Kennard, in her dabblings in psychoanalysis, had secured some +concrete aids for action in addition to the vague abstractions which had +come into her mind when Latisan had so naïvely confessed on the cliff +above the cataract. She understood fully the potency of a suggestion +which left a lot to the imagination of the other party; only a bit of a +suggestion is needed—and it must be left to itself, like yeast, to +induce fermentation. For that reason Miss Kennard abruptly walked out +and left Miss Elsham alone to reflect—not running away, but retiring +with the air of one who had said a sufficient number of words to the +wise.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham, in her conference at the window with Crowley that evening, +revealed how actively her batch of ponderings had been set to working by +that bit of suggestion. Crowley, listening, wished privately that he +could call back that report to Mern; Mern had repeatedly warned him to +keep to his place as a strong-arm operative, bluntly bearing down on the +fact that Crowley’s brains were not suited for the finer points of +machination. According to Miss Elsham’s figuring—and Crowley +acknowledged her innate brightness—the plot had thickened and Kennard, +known to all operatives as Mern’s close confidant, was up there as chief +performer.</p> + +<p>Several days elapsed before Crowley—perspiring whenever his worries +assailed him—got any word from Mern. The chief wrote guardedly, and +Crowley read the letter over a dozen times without being exactly sure +just what course he was to pursue. The truth was, Mr. Mern himself was +doing so much <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>guessing as to Miss Kennard that he was in no state of +mind to give clean-cut commands.</p> + +<p>Crowley’s letter was the first intimation to the chief of the +whereabouts of his confidential secretary. She had not resigned, nor had +she asked for a leave of absence, nor had she bothered to write or +telephone; she did not show up at the office—that was all!</p> + +<p>Lida, having discarded ethics, had decided to play her game from an +ambuscade, just as the Vose-Mern agency did its business.</p> + +<p>To give any information to the foes of Echford Flagg would be giving +odds—and she was working single-handed and deserved odds for herself. +She resolved to make her game as peculiar as possible—to keep all of +them guessing—to oblige them to take the initiative against her if they +should find out the secret of her strange actions. The element of time +entered largely into her calculations: every day on which she stood +between them and Ward Latisan—every day that he devoted to the +drive—was a day to be charged to her side of the ledger; and there are +not many days in the driving season when the waters <em>are</em> high and the +river is rushing.</p> + +<p>A keener mind than Crowley’s would have detected in Mern’s letter all +the chief’s inability to understand. What Crowley did get from the +letter was the conviction that Miss Kennard was not to be molested at +that time. Mern made that clear, though he was vague on other points. +The chief was wondering whether excess of zeal might be the reason for +Miss Kennard’s amazing performance. He remembered certain hints which +she had dropped as to her finan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>cial needs, and she had not seemed +averse when he had told her on occasions that he thought of giving her a +commission when the right kind of a case came along. To turn a trick for +a rich corporation—working alone so that she might claim full +credit—undoubtedly had appealed to her as her great opportunity, Mern +reflected, and she had set off on her own hook, fearful that he would +not alter the arrangements he had made. He was angry; he muttered oaths +as he weighed the situation. But he did not put any of his anger into +his letter to Crowley. Miss Kennard knew too much about the general +inner workings of the agency! In this new case there was specifically a +five-thousand-dollar net fee in case Latisan could be eliminated and his +crew left to the mercies of Comas bluster and cash. Miss Kennard, if +unduly molested, could say two words in the north country and put that +contingent fee into limbo.</p> + +<p>Therefore, Chief Mern was treading softly at first.</p> + +<p>But from the letter which treated the general situation so gingerly the +strong-arm operative extracted one solid and convincing command. He was +to watch Miss Kennard. The command seemed entirely natural. Had he not +been sent up there to watch—or watch over—no matter which—Miss +Elsham? His instructions in regard to Miss Kennard seemed to make her a +particularly valuable person in the Vose-Mern plans. He was not to allow +anything to interfere with his watching of Miss Kennard, not even for +the sake of Miss Elsham. He was to observe every movement, catch every +word, if possible, mark every detail of Miss Kennard’s operations.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>Crowley did not show the letter to Miss Elsham, nor did he speak of it. +He would mortally offend her by revealing his double-crossing tactics; +as a woman she would be more offended by being relegated to the +background in favor of the newcomer.</p> + +<p>Crowley found his espionage an easy job at first. All he had to report +to Mern for three or four days was that “Patsy Jones” did her work in +the hotel and remained in her room till after dark—and then went out +and strolled aimlessly. She would not talk with Crowley when he grasped +at opportunities to speak to her on her walks. She reminded him that +fellow operatives must be careful; furthermore, scandal might oblige her +to abandon her job; he would be responsible if he insisted on dogging +her about the village.</p> + +<p>However, Crowley was able, a few days later, to slip her a letter from +Mern; the chief had inclosed it in a missive containing further +instructions to the operative to make sure of every move of Lida. The +inclosed letter was addressed to “Patsy Jones.”</p> + +<p>Lida read it when she was back in her room. She noted with satisfaction +that Chief Mern was still guessing and that his detective mind was +unable to solve the mystery except on the ground that she was so loyal +to the agency and so ambitious for herself that she had tackled the job +as a speculation. He chided her because she had not reported her +intention. He asked for a full statement.</p> + +<p>She hid the letter carefully in her bureau. Having put it away for +further reference in case she did make up her mind to answer the +questions when forced to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>do so, she delayed replying. She did not want +to lie needlessly to Mern—she was willing to let him do imagining, too, +seeing how well it was working, to all appearances, in the cases of +Elsham and Crowley.</p> + +<p>She had her own reasons for keeping withindoors in the daytime. The +matter of Rickety Dick was worrying her. He had seen her as a girl of +sixteen, worn with her vigils beside a sick mother; the light through +the area windows had been dim, and he had stumbled against chairs in the +room as if his vision were poor.</p> + +<p>However, she discovered at the outset of her stay in Adonia that she had +become the object of old Dick’s intent regard whenever he found +opportunity. He often trudged past the tavern on his errands; he dragged +slow steps and squinted and peered. Once she caught him peeping at her +through the open door of the dining room. She had feared some such +closer inspection and had drawn back her hair and twisted its waviness +into an unsightly pug; the moment she saw him she slipped into her mouth +a piece of spruce gum which an admiring woodsman had presented, and then +she chewed vigorously and slatted herself about in a tough manner. He +sighed and went away muttering.</p> + +<p>He ventured another and a last sortie, as if he wanted to make an end of +his doubts. He also made a sensation.</p> + +<p>Rickety Dick came to take dinner at the tavern!</p> + +<p>He was in his best rig, with which he was accustomed to outfit himself +for the funerals of his old friends. There was a faded tail coat which +flapped <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>against baggy gray trousers. A celluloid collar on a flannel +shirt propped up his wrinkled chin.</p> + +<p>Martin Brophy stared at old Dick and then cast a look up at the office +clock, whose hands, like Dick’s in the moment of mental stress, were +upraised on the stroke of twelve.</p> + +<p>“Flagg dead?” inquired Brophy, unable otherwise to account for Dick’s +absence from the big house at the dinner hour.</p> + +<p>“No! Toothache! Can’t eat to-day. He let me off to go to a burying.”</p> + +<p>“Whose?”</p> + +<p>Old Dick shook his head and passed on into the dining room, peering hard +into the face of the waitress as he plodded toward her. “Burying!” he +muttered. “May as well make sure it’s dead—and put it away.”</p> + +<p>Lida met him as she was meeting her other problems up there—boldly.</p> + +<p>She leaned over him when he was seated and recited the daily bill of +fare. He did not take his eyes off her face, now close to his.</p> + +<p>“Lida Kennard,” he whispered, hoarsely, panting, pulling the hard collar +away from his throat with trembling fingers, “why ain’t ye home with +your poor old grandfather, where ye belong? Lida Kennard, why ain’t ye +home?”</p> + +<p>Her eyes did not waver. Brophy had followed, to be better informed as to +the funeral, and stood in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Who’s the nut?” inquired Patsy Jones, acridly, turning her gaze to the +landlord. “He’s calling me names.” Her hard tones made the old man +wince.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>“He’s all right—safe—only a little crazier than usual,” returned +Brophy. “If you want to eat, Dick, go ahead and eat—but don’t bother +Miss Jones. I don’t allow anybody to bother her. And where’s that +funeral, I ask you again?”</p> + +<p>“Here!” said the old man, rapping his knuckles on his breast. “It’s +buried. I guess I am crazy. Oh yes, I’ll admit it. I see things that +ain’t so.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead and eat,” commanded Brophy.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to eat—I can’t, now.” He pushed back his chair and rose.</p> + +<p>“What names did he call you?” demanded the landlord, truculently. “I +won’t have your feelings hurt, you know!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, only made some funny noises,” retorted Miss Jones, flippantly. “Let +him go. I don’t mind.”</p> + +<p>Rickety Dick plodded out as he had plodded in; he was shaking his head, +dismissing all his hopes and his dreams.</p> + +<p>Miss Jones went to another guest. “The world is full of ’em,” she said. +“We have lamb, beef, and pork.”</p> + +<p>Brophy retired, entertaining no further curiosity.</p> + +<p>The surge of homesickness that swept through the girl choked her—its +spray blurred her eyes as she gazed after old Dick, pitying his bent +shoulders under the sun-faded coat. But even in her sorrow, because she +had been obliged to deny his wistful plaint so heartlessly, she was +conscious of relief. She had been afraid of his recognition of her; +after this she would be more free to come and go.</p> + +<p>That evening at supper there was a guest who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>troubled her thoughts more +than had Rickety Dick, but in another way. Ward Latisan was down again +from the drive, still adoring her frankly and unabashed with his eyes, +following all her movements; it was plain that he had taken counsel with +himself while he had been away from her and that his love had been made +acute by separation. She was of a mind to hide away from him in her room +after her work was done. But there was the cultivation of his friendship +to consider! She must keep up that friendship in order to be able to +influence him.</p> + +<p>Timorously, wondering what was to come from the coil of events as she +saw them shaping in that region of barehanded conflict, she put on her +hat and went forth. Latisan stepped off the porch and joined her, +plainly no longer concerned with what the gossipers of Adonia might say +or think.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><a name="fifteen" id="fifteen"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">AS on a previous occasion, when the gloom of the night had settled, they +were again at the side of the village street, at the mouth of the path +by which they had returned from the cliff above the falls.</p> + +<p>She had sought the falls that evening because the din of the waters +would keep him from talking too much. She was afraid of the light in his +eyes and of the repressed feeling in his tones. She knew that she must +repulse him if he wooed. Her emotions were mixed, but she was sure there +was no love in her heart—all her thoughts were concerned with her +quest. If love should by any possibility develop in her and she should +allow him to see it, what would become of his man’s appetite for fight +and danger? She felt obliged to view surrender to him in that light. On +the other hand, she could not afford to offend him deeply by allowing +matters to come to a climax between them right then; the climax must +disclose her lack of affection. She had been estimating that hale man of +the woods—she was certain that what she felt toward him was only +friendly respect for his character, and she could not lie to him or fawn +falsely for her purposes.</p> + +<p>“I must go up now and face the usual music,” he said, sourly. “I’m +getting to be afraid of myself with Flagg.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>“I’ve heard he’s afflicted with the toothache to-day. You must make all +allowances,” she entreated, with a dash of jest in her earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Then I especially need a protector. I’m going to ask you again to go +along with me. Really, you’re needed if I’m expected to stay on my job. +Why,” he went on, jest mingling with seriousness in his own case, “if +the Flagg drive comes down all right through my efforts, you can take +the credit of the victory because you were present to-night and smoothed +things; he’ll just have to be decent, with a strange young lady in the +room.”</p> + +<p>She was not ready with peremptory refusal, as she had been on the other +occasion; she had met the bugbear of Rickety Dick and had prevailed over +the old man’s suspicions. As Latisan averred, her presence might help +matters; she would entertain strange and acute regrets if her absence +should allow the split that Latisan seemed to apprehend.</p> + +<p>He timidly put his hand on her arm. “Please!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be intruding on a business talk. I may make him all the more +touchy.” She was hesitating, weighing the hazards of each plan—to go or +to stay away.</p> + +<p>“There’s no private business to be talked. I’m simply going to tell him +that I have blown the ice and have the logs in the river and I want to +have his orders about how many splash dams I can blow up if I need to do +it for a head o’ water to beat the Three C’s drive to Skulltree. Really, +he needs to talk with somebody who is gentle,” he went on, and she +responded to the touch on her arm and walked slowly with him up the +hill. “He sits there day by day and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>reads the tooth-for-tooth part of +the Old Testament, and it keeps hardening his heart. I’ve thought of a +plan. Suppose you get friendly with him! You can take some soothing +books up to him in your off hours and read aloud. Let’s try to make a +different man of Eck Flagg, you and I.”</p> + +<p>So, over the ledges where her childish feet had stumbled, Lida Kennard, +trembling, anxious, yearning for her kin, went again to the door of the +big mansion on the hill.</p> + +<p>Latisan’s words had opened a vista of hope to her; she might be able, +after all, to render the service to which old Dick had exhorted her, +hiding her identity behind a woman’s desire to cheer an invalid.</p> + +<p>It was the same square, bleak house of her early memories, now dark +except for a dim glow through two dingy windows in the lower part; the +yee-yawed curtains were eloquent evidence of the housekeeping methods.</p> + +<p>“He won’t have any women around, as I told you.” Latisan was not tactful +in his excuse for the slack aspect of the house.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid it isn’t best for me to go in,” she said, making a final +stand.</p> + +<p>“If you go with me you’re all right,” declared the drive boss, with +pride of power where the Flagg interests were concerned. “It’ll do him +good to be jumped out of himself—to see a young lady from the city.”</p> + +<p>Latisan did not knock; he walked in, escorting the girl.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the sitting room, in a wheel chair <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>that was draped +with a moosehide tanned with the hair on it, she beheld an old man with +a fleece of white mane and beard. A shaded oil lamp shed a circle of +radiance on a big book which lay on his knees. The girl noted that the +book was the Bible. Outside that circle of radiance the room was in +darkness and the old man heard footsteps without being able to see who +had entered; in the shadows was old Dick on his stool.</p> + +<p>“That you, Latisan?” demanded the master.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir!” Ward was about to say more, introducing the girl, but Flagg +broke in, paying no attention to what his drive master might have on his +mind.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the stuff for real men in this book! You ought to take time to +read it. I’m sorry I didn’t read it regular when I was going about on +two legs.” He pounded his hand on the opened pages. “The parsons are now +preaching too much New Testament stuff. When my folks dragged me to the +meetinghouse in the pod-auger days we got Old Testament—red hot. I’ve +been hoping I remembered it right—I’ve been looking it up. Listen!”</p> + +<p>“‘If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or +the wife of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is thine soul, entice thee +secretly, saying, “Let us go and serve other gods,” which thou hast not +known, thou, nor thy fathers; thou shalt not consent unto him, nor +hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou +spare, neither shalt thou conceal him; but thou shalt surely kill him; +thine hand shalt be first upon him to put <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>him to death, and afterward +the hand of all the people. And thou shalt stone him with stones, that +he die.’”</p> + +<p>Again the old man beat his hand upon the book. “There are the orders for +you, Latisan!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know as I just get you, sir!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t expect to find the Three C’s mentioned by name in Holy Writ, +do you? But the case is covered. They’re asking you and me to serve +other gods. They’re asking us to go into their combine. If we do so it +means that the sawmills on this river will be closed and the homes +deserted. They’re taking all the timber down to the paper mills. To hell +with their paper! The folks need lumber for houses. The Three C’s shan’t +control the market and boost prices so that folks can’t buy. Latisan! I +tell you again, you’ve got your orders, backed by the Scripture. An eye +for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! Families or corporations, it’s all the +same! Why don’t you say something?”</p> + +<p>“I’m waiting to introduce a young lady, sir. This is Miss Jones who has +just come to town.”</p> + +<p>Flagg tipped the shade of the lamp and deflected the light upon the +couple. He bawled an ugly oath. “Clean shaved, again! Making a dude of +yourself! Sapgagging with a girl?”</p> + +<p>Latisan stepped forward and broke in on the tirade. “I’ll have to ask +you to trig that kind of talk, Mr. Flagg. Miss Jones has come here to +cheer you up.”</p> + +<p>“When I want any girl to come here and cheer me up I’ll drop her a line +and give her thirty days’ notice.”</p> + +<p>The caller who had been snubbed so bluntly turned <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>on her heel. She +pleaded, faintly, “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll leave you and Mr. Latisan to +talk over your business.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t blame you for going,” said Latisan. He followed her, and to her +profound amazement she discovered that a woodsman could be as +temperamental as a prima donna. “I’m going, too, Mr. Flagg,” he called +over his shoulder. “I’m going for good and all where you’re concerned. +I’m done with you. I gave you your fair warning. Send another man north +to the drive.”</p> + +<p>“Just one minute, there, Latisan!” called the master, harshly. “Unless +you’re afraid to stay here that length of time or can’t spare the minute +away from your wench!”</p> + +<p>The drive master stopped at the door and spun around on his heel.</p> + +<p>There had been but one flash of the light’s rays on Lida—the old man +had immediately allowed the shade to drop; standing just beyond the +doorway in the hall, she was safely in the shadows.</p> + +<p>“If you expect to hear me whinny like a sick horse you’re mistaken,” +went on Flagg, with the staccato of ire. “Now I know what you’re worth. +You have appraised yourself. A girl’s grin has bought you. I don’t know +what sort she is, nor care I. But unless she’s a fool she can see what +you’re worth, too. Go along, now!”</p> + +<p>There was compunction in Latisan, and he realized it. But there was that +untamed spirit of old John, as well, and it made for rancor and +rebellion.</p> + +<p>In that room at the moment old John’s spirit was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>veritably present in +the grandson, reviving the ancient north-country duello of unconquered +wills with old Echford in the flesh—and a Latisan had never lowered the +crest before a Flagg.</p> + +<p>“It’s a cheap hired man you want!” Compromise was offered no opportunity +by young Latisan’s manner and tone. “Hire one—of your picking! And a +devilish fine boss that kind will make for you!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll hire nobody,” roared Flagg. “I’ll ride to the head of the drive in +this chair. Even with both sides of me paralyzed I’ll be worth more than +you are, you lallygagging, love-cracked loon! Get out of here!”</p> + +<p>When the two were outside in the night the girl faced Latisan. “I insist +on going alone, sir. You have no right to leave a helpless man as you’re +doing. I cannot believe that you mean what you said just now!”</p> + +<p>“I’m through! I have let him curse me out all along and I took it whence +it came. But this time it’s different.”</p> + +<p>“Please go back to him.”</p> + +<p>“I will not. I’m done!”</p> + +<p>The grim thought came to her that she had ineluctably become a valuable +operative in the interests of the Vose-Mern agency. According to +appearances the work was finished. However, she promptly blazed into +indignation which rang true. “I’m only a stranger to that poor old man. +He did not understand. I had no right to rush in on him as I did.”</p> + +<p>“I had the right to invite you.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t have it on my conscience that I have been a party to this break +between you two. If it were not so dreadful it would be silly, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>“I have the right to be silly about my own business, if you’re bound to +call it silly, what I have done.”</p> + +<p>“Go back, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>“I will not!”</p> + +<p>“You shall not walk away with me.”</p> + +<p>“I invited you to come up here. I shall see you to the door of that +tavern. You may never speak to me again, but you won’t be able to say +about me that I deserted you in the dark night.”</p> + +<p>“Will you come back here after you have escorted me to the tavern?”</p> + +<p>“No! It’s settled into a stand-off between Flagg and me.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to please me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, even to lying down here in the mud and letting you walk on me,” he +declared, his fervor breaking from the repression he had been +maintaining with difficulty. “And it’s because he has insulted somebody +that I feel like that toward—that’s why I’m done with him. I’m not +putting it very smoothly. But it’s in here!” He pounded his fist on his +breast.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Latisan, this is folly. I’m only a waitress.”</p> + +<p>“I’m thanking God that you are and that you aren’t too high above me, as +I was afraid you were when I met you in New York. You’re down where I +can talk to you.”</p> + +<p>She started to walk away, but he leaped and seized both her arms. “This +is going mighty fast,” he gasped. “I never talked to a girl in this way +in all my life. I’ll probably never dare to talk to you if I wait for +daylight to-morrow—I’ll be too scared of my thoughts overnight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>She did not try to twist herself free from his grasp; she was more +self-possessed than he was—he was trembling in all his frame.</p> + +<p>“It’s like dynamite,” he stammered. “I reckon it was in me all the time! +The first flash of your eyes lighted the fuse! I’ve blown up.” He pulled +her close to him, flung his arms about her, and kissed her. But +immediately he loosed her and stepped back. “I didn’t intend to do that! +My feelings got away from me.”</p> + +<p>“And now may I go along?” she inquired, coldly, after he had remained +silent for a time.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry I have made you angry. I don’t know how to go at a thing like +this one I’m tackling,” he said contritely. “But I feel that talking out +straight and man fashion is the only way. Will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not, sir!”</p> + +<p>He did not attempt to stay her when she walked on. He trod humbly by her +side.</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t. But I couldn’t keep back the asking any more +than I can push back that flood you can hear down in the gorge. It just +had to pour along, that asking!”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Latisan, you astonish me. You desert your employer on account of a +mere <span class="nowrap">whim——”</span></p> + +<p>“Don’t you call my standing up for you any whim, if you please!” The +change in his tone from humility to stern and masterful command caused +her to catch her breath. She was not accustomed to dominance by men.</p> + +<p>“At any rate, sir, you have proposed marriage to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>stranger, a mere +come-by-chance into this place, not knowing who or what I am. I have a +right to be astonished.”</p> + +<p>“Probably! But you aren’t any more so than I was in New York when I +realized what had happened to me.”</p> + +<p>“So, now you can forget all about me and go back to your work on the +drive!”</p> + +<p>“You have said I did not know much about you. It’s plain you don’t know +me! I have told Eck Flagg I am done. And I am! You don’t understand. I’m +a Latisan <span class="nowrap">and——”</span> he faltered then; it sounded like boyish boasting and +he was a bit ashamed.</p> + +<p>“Somehow that helpless old man has stirred all my sympathy. Why won’t +you do as I ask?”</p> + +<p>“Because a girl who throws a man down as you have hasn’t any right to +ask him to do this or that.”</p> + +<p>They were near the tavern before either spoke again.</p> + +<p>“I’m not saying that I’m not sorry for Eck Flagg,” the drive master +stated. “I don’t want you to leave me to-night with the idea that I’m a +quitter or a coward or a sneak about what’s my duty. I’ll be honest with +you. You think I’m a fool because I’ve fallen in love with you so +suddenly. A man who has tussled with drives and log jams for as many +years as I have needs to think quickly, make up his mind about what it’s +right to do, and then stick to it. I’m not going to sacrifice myself for +Flagg—a man with the hard heart that’s in him.” He caught his breath +and plunged on: “You say to-night that you won’t marry me. I’m going to +stay close by and see if you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>won’t change your mind. A roaring fire is +in me right now!” His demeanor terrified her. The primitive man was +blazing. “I don’t dare to take the chances on what would be in me if I +should go back to the drive and leave you here to be smirked at by every +cheap man who comes along. I have dreamed too much about you!” He was +wooing with the avatar of old John. “By the gods! you’re my girl! I’m +going to have you! I’ll stay on that job!”</p> + +<p>“I shall leave this place to-morrow. It will be very—well, very unwise +for you to annoy me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to follow you.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Latisan, I have listened to you; you shall listen to me!” She spoke +sharply. Now she displayed the equipoise of one who had learned much +from self-reliant contact with men. “I’ll not argue with you about what +you call love. But there’s something which love must have, and that’s +self-respect. If your folly on account of me takes you away from your +honest duty you’ll despise me when you come to yourself. You have been +honest with me. I’ll be honest with you. I like you. I can see that +you’re a big, true man—much different from most of the men I have met +before this. But I shall lose all my good opinion of you if you desert +your job. And, as I have said, you’ll hate me if I allow you to do so. +Can we afford to take chances?”</p> + +<p>While he pondered she made hurried mental account of stock in her own +case.</p> + +<p>She was not admitting that she felt any especial consideration for this +man as a lover; she was protecting her grandfather and striving for her +own <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>peace of mind as a payer of a debt of honor. He followed her when +she walked on toward the tavern.</p> + +<p>“May I ask what you mean by taking chances? Chances on being something +more to each other than we are now?” he asked, wistfully.</p> + +<p>“I think we have gone quite far enough for one evening, sir.”</p> + +<p>He pulled off his cap. “Before I go to sleep I shall say my little +prayer. I shall ask that you won’t be thinking I have gone too far. I’m +sure it won’t be a prayer to the God of the Old Testament, such as Eck +Flagg was reading about. I’ll whisper up to Mother Mary. She understands +women. I don’t.”</p> + +<p>He bowed in silence when she gave him a hasty “good night!”</p> + +<p>Latisan whirled suddenly after the girl closed the door behind her—came +about on his heels so quickly that he nearly bumped into the assiduous +operative Crowley, who had been taking desperate chances that evening.</p> + +<p>But Latisan’s gaze was directed downward in deep thought as he walked +slowly away, and he did not perceive the eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crowley had heard aplenty, so he informed himself; he had followed +them all the way from the big house down to the tavern, treading close +behind, depending on their absorption in each other, his shoes in his +hand, not minding the ledges and the mud; and he was in his mental +stocking feet, too, treading on the bedrock of the obvious, as he +figured on the proposition.</p> + +<p>He had been told many times, Mr. Crowley had, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>that he possessed a +single-track mind and was not fitted to deal with the subtleties of +criminal investigation and had not the expansive wit to comprehend the +roundabout ways of steering victims to their doom. But Mr. Crowley was +indubitably fitted by training to write a handbook on the art of +double-crossing—and he reckoned he knew an out-and-out job of that sort +after what he had heard that evening. For his own peace of mind, and to +save himself from going crazy by reason of any more puzzlement over Miss +Kennard’s alleged mysterious methods in her work, he kept insisting to +himself that she was merely double-crossing the Vose-Mern agency in the +good old-fashioned way. Not his the task to wonder why!</p> + +<p>He rushed up to his room and started in on his report. It had stuck +in Crowley’s crop—seemed humiliating—to be made a subaltern in the +case of women operatives. He believed that at last he was in right +and proper on the grand opportunity of his career; he would come down +from the bush with the bacon; Elsham had fallen down and Kennard was +double-crossing—and Crowley, good old reliable Crowley, would show +Chief Mern where the credit should go! He set his little, cheap +typewriter on his sturdy knees and pecked away stolidly with his +forefingers.</p> + +<p>Latisan remained outdoors a long time, for the night matched the gloom +of his thoughts. And once more, in spite of himself, his dark ponderings +concerned themselves with suspicions as to what and who this girl really +was.</p> + +<p>In his early deference to her he had been ready and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>willing to believe +all she said about herself, and his suspicion had seemed to be +extinguished; he realized that it merely had been smoldering. Why would +not a waitress marry him, one of the Latisans of the Tomah? Was he what +old Flagg had so inelegantly stated—a sapgag where a girl was +concerned? He began to distrust his strength as a man; he had wasted a +day in New York; he was ready to give up his man’s job on the Noda +because he could not get his thoughts away from her and on his work. His +last stay at headwaters had been hours of torture. He had gone to sleep +dreaming of the girl instead of putting his attention on the problems of +the morrow—and the details of the drive that spring needed all sorts of +judgment and foresight.</p> + +<p>While he was in that state of mind, trying to excuse defection, he told +himself, as he trudged to and fro, that he was not a fit man for Flagg. +Nevertheless he cursed himself for being so weak. He had read stories of +woman’s subjugation of the famous and the strong and had wondered what +sort of lunacy had overtaken such men. Here he was making an invalid’s +tantrums an excuse to give up his work and dangle at the skirts of an +unknown girl; and he knew it was because of the mystery of her real +identity and because his jealousy was afire on account of an uncertainty +which was now aggravated by her refusal to marry him.</p> + +<p>Latisan had not been in the village ten minutes that afternoon before +Gossip Dempsey had giggled and told him he’d better keep sharp watch on +his girl, because the jewelry man was everlastingly after her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>like a +puppy chasing the butcher’s cart; the simile was not nice, but Latisan +was impressed by its suggestion of assiduity.</p> + +<p>In the tumult of his thought, grudgingly conscious that he was ashamed +of the real reason for giving up his work, Latisan evasively decided +that the thing was now up to Echford Flagg. He had warned Flagg man +fashion. He had given his word to Flagg as to what would happen if Flagg +persisted in treating him like a lackey. Flagg had persisted. Latisan +had kept his word. He could not retreat from that stand; he could not +crawl back to Flagg and still maintain the self-respect that a drive +master must have in the fight that was ahead.</p> + +<p>Therefore, Latisan decided to stay in Adonia and let Flagg make +overtures; for their future relations the drive master would be able to +lay down some rules to govern Flagg’s language and conduct. Under that +decision persisted the nagging consciousness that he wanted to be with +the girl instead of on the drive and he was more and more ashamed of the +new weakness in his character. And he was also ashamed of the feeling +that he wanted to find out more about her. In the past his manliness had +despised prying and peering. He had been able to bluster loyally to old +Dick; he was more truthful to himself. What was she, anyway? He would +not admit that he had been so completely tipped upside down in all his +hale resolves, aims, and objects by a mere nonentity who looked no +higher than a job as waitress at Brophy’s tavern.</p> + +<p>Then he went into the tavern out of the darkness <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>and blinked at the +landlord, who called him to the desk and gave a letter into his hands. +It was sealed, but there was no stamp on it.</p> + +<p>“Ordered by Mrs. Everett to hand it to you,” reported Brophy, sourly. +“She wanted to see you last time you were down, but it slipped my mind +to tell you.”</p> + +<p>Latisan read the note. The lady of the parlor entreated him to come to +her on a matter of business, no matter how late the hour might be. He +tore up the paper on his way to the fireplace and tossed the bits on the +embers.</p> + +<p>“Same room for me?” he asked Brophy.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but Mrs. Everett said for <span class="nowrap">me——”</span></p> + +<p>“Damn Mrs. Everett! I’m going to bed.”</p> + +<p>It consoled him a little, as he walked upstairs, to reflect that he was +not dominated by all the women in the world, even if he was in the way +of making himself a fool over one.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span><a name="sixteen" id="sixteen"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LATISAN, going to sleep, hoped that he would awake with a saner +viewpoint.</p> + +<p>He did admit to himself in the morning that if Echford Flagg should show +the right spirit of compromise the thing could be patched up on terms +which would allow the drive master to be his own man instead of being a +spanked youngster.</p> + +<p>The girl seized an opportunity to speak to him when she brought his +breakfast. “Things look better this morning—I’m sure they do. Tell me. +I worried half the night. I must not be the cause of trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they look better.”</p> + +<p>“And you’re starting back to-day for the drive?” Her voice was low but +eager. “Tell me that you are!”</p> + +<p>His smouldering suspicion! Red tongues of fire darted up from it!</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you won’t be able to get rid of me to-day. Business is +keeping me here.”</p> + +<p>Her entreating smile faded; she backed way from him as if she had +received a rude thrust, and then she went about her work.</p> + +<p>There was a real sensation in the tavern that morning! The exclusive +star boarder of the parlor came into the public room to eat her +breakfast. Her charms were enhanced by a becoming morning wrap, and, +following out her liberal code governing the relations <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>of sex in modern +days, she seated herself at Latisan’s table, greeting him with a +mingling of bright good humor and gentle rebuke.</p> + +<p>“Give me a good reason why you have not been the advising friend you +promised to be, and I may not be too angry, Mr. Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“I—I thought I’d wait till this <span class="nowrap">morning——”</span></p> + +<p>“Thank you! Then I’m welcome at your table.”</p> + +<p>She lowered her voice after that. She was engrossed with ordinary topics +whenever the waitress’s duties brought Lida to the table. If there was +to be rivalry between the operatives of Vose-Mern, Miss Elsham decided +that her tactics with the Flagg drive master should not be known. She +did the talking and Latisan gave the appearance of being an earnest +listener. At a matter of fact, he played up strongly his affectation of +devoted interest. Ingenuous amateur that he was in the subtleties of +love, he was trying out a method which he had heard commended; he was +wondering how much an aroused jealousy might accomplish in the case of +Miss Patsy Jones.</p> + +<p>He cast side glances and saw that she seemed to be disturbed. He +bestowed on Mrs. Everett more profound attention. He even allowed +himself to say when the waitress was within earshot, “I think I’ll know +by to-morrow whether I’m to keep on at the head of the drive. If I don’t +and if matters allow, I’ll be glad to take charge of your trip into the +north country.”</p> + +<p>Latisan, boyishly crude in his methods, felt that Miss Jones would have +an interpretation of her own for “matters” and would do some earnest +thinking <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>before she turned him over to the companionship of a rich +young widow, even in the humble rôle of a chief guide.</p> + +<p>In spite of Brophy’s sign, “No Smoking in This Dining Room”—a +restriction intended for woodsmen—Miss Elsham lighted a cigarette in +her satisfaction; her failure to interest the man of the woods even to +the extent of a second interview had been worrying the seductress de +luxe of the Vose-Mern establishment after her unbroken successes with +the men of the city.</p> + +<p>She went out of the room chatting with Latisan, and found an opportunity +to sweep Miss Kennard with a patronizing glance.</p> + +<p>Latisan spent the forenoon on the tavern porch, smoking his pipe and +waiting—even hoping—for a message from Echford Flagg. Rickety Dick +passed the place several times on his usual errands. Flagg, therefore, +would be informed that the drive master was loafing in the village. But +old Dick did not bring any word from the big house to Latisan.</p> + +<p>To be sure, the split of the evening before had seemed discouragingly +final. But after the girl’s rebuke and appeal Ward was ashamed of the +persisting stubbornness which was making him an idler in that exacting +period when the thunderous Noda waters were sounding a call to duty. He +did not want her to think of him as vindictive in his spirit, and still +less did he desire her to consider him petty in his motives and notions.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the proposition was strictly a man-to-man affair, and +Echford Flagg had made relations unendurable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>Ward wished devoutly that he could clear his thoughts; they were +muddled. Back of the inertia which was hiding him in Adonia there seemed +to be reasons other than the new animosity toward his employer. Really, +he confessed to himself, he would like to go to Flagg and win to a +manlike and mutual understanding which would serve both of them. But he +muttered when he looked up at the big house, and he kept on waiting for +the master to offer an opening.</p> + +<p>He confessed that his was a childish attitude toward an employer. Had he +allowed his infatuation to twist him into this being who was putting the +burden of an offer of compromise upon a poor old stricken man who ought +to be protected from his own intolerance?</p> + +<p>However, the drive master was aware of a certain satisfaction in being +on hand to watch and weigh affairs in Adonia that day.</p> + +<p>The raffle man, as the villagers called Crowley, seemed to have a great +deal on his mind, Latisan reflected. Crowley made several trips to the +telegraph office at the railroad station.</p> + +<p>At dinner Miss Jones averted her eyes from Latisan and there was no talk +between them. Latisan tried to comfort himself, by the thought that +jealousy was operating. He saw her go out in the afternoon for a walk, +but he did not offer to accompany her. His naïve conviction was that his +indifference and the threat of interest in Mrs. Everett would suffice to +bring Miss Patsy Jones down from her coquette’s pedestal.</p> + +<p>He was tempted to leap up and follow when he saw Crowley trailing after +the waitress; but Crowley <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>went only a little distance, and then he came +back and went into the tavern and upstairs.</p> + +<p>Again in midafternoon old Dick passed, but he brought no word to the +waiting drive master.</p> + +<p>This insulting indifference, as Latisan considered it, indicated that +Echford Flagg was no longer depending on Ward as champion. There had +been no misunderstanding of language. Latisan had quit—and Flagg was +contented to let him stay quit.</p> + +<p>The young man felt more acutely cheap and small. He had been setting +himself up as the one man who could drive down the Flagg logs. The fact +that he could not bring himself to break away instanter and go north to +his duty—without orders from Flagg and without considering further his +entanglement with a girl—was a fact that steadily lessened his +self-esteem. He had been able to go straightforwardly in all matters +till then; this new inability to handle complex affairs and to untangle +the situation made him distrust himself and wonder whether he was much +of a man, anyway!</p> + +<p>Then came night—and he went to his room to brood.</p> + +<p>At supper the girl of his thoughts had been conspicuously rude in the +manner with which she banged down dishes in front of him.</p> + +<p>Lida had been doing some pondering of her own. She would not admit that +she had been piqued by his attentions to Elsham and by his partial +promise to that complacent young lady. But she was finding him to be +very much of a child, she told herself. He needed to be protected from +himself at that juncture. And he needed to be convinced that he was +wasting his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>time just then by staying away from duty and playing the +lover. Lida’s first thought was that if he found no profit in lovemaking +he would go back to his work in spite of what he had told her. She could +not bring herself to believe that a man like Latisan would succumb to +Elsham’s wiles.</p> + +<p>In that mood, both as protectress and as stanch believer in his +uprightness, she found that her interest in him was becoming more vivid +than she had realized. Her warming heart sent a flush into her cheeks +when she remembered the passionate embrace. She noted that flush when +she looked into her mirror. She was making herself ready for slumber.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a fool!” she warned the reflection in the mirror.</p> + +<p>Having clarified the situation to that extent in her thoughts before +going to sleep, she awoke and began the new day with better confidence. +The spirit of the Open Places certainly did make folks honest, she told +herself! She felt that the morning must have brought common sense to +Latisan, as it had to her.</p> + +<p>From her window she saw him walking to and fro in front of the tavern. +The early dawn was flushing the east. His being abroad at that hour +suggested that he was going back to his work instead of playing the +idling lover. She decided to be frank with him; she dressed in haste, +hurried down and faced him, and told him how glad she was that he had +come into his right senses; she had determined that her best course was +to take his reformed mental state for granted.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m sensible enough to quit being a boss bulldog for a man like +Eck Flagg.” He was sorry <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>after he said it. But there was no word from +Flagg—and her insistence, as if she wanted to be rid of him, rasped his +raw temper.</p> + +<p>“But you’re going back to the drive!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“I am not.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you value your reputation among men?”</p> + +<p>“I do!”</p> + +<p>“They’ll say you’re a quitter.” She spoke boldly and sharply.</p> + +<p>“Let me tell <em>you</em> something! When you told me that you wouldn’t marry +me I came nigh quitting where you’re concerned. But I am back in my +right senses, as you say! You’re mine! I have told you so. I tell you +again this morning. It’s something of a fix you’ve got yourself into, +eh?”</p> + +<p>She grew pale and her wide eyes were filled with startled protest; he +was placid enough, but his calmness made the thing more grim and +threatening when she reflected on the suggestiveness of that word “fix.” +She was unable to endure his scrutiny. He did not try to restrain her +when she turned away, hastening into the tavern.</p> + +<p>Brophy came into the dining room when he heard her setting the tables. +“Well, by swanny! You’re up without being called! You ain’t much like +the others I’ve had here!”</p> + +<p>He was silent for some time, and when she turned she found him surveying +her with curious intentness. “It ain’t none of my business, of course, +but I hope you ain’t of a marrying notion, just yet awhile.”</p> + +<p>“That remark seems a little uncalled for, Mr. Brophy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>“I’m speaking out because Ward Latisan doesn’t seem to be the flirting +kind, miss. You can’t fool with him.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you. I shall avoid Mr. Latisan from now on. I have +thoughtlessly taken walks with him.”</p> + +<p>“If it’s such a thing as you’re intending to get married I’d rather lose +you to Latisan than to anybody else in this region. He’s solid goods, +miss! Solid!”</p> + +<p>She was seeking confirmation to strengthen her resolves. “I hear that +his employer is an invalid. I suppose that makes Mr. Latisan pretty nigh +indispensable, doesn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be no Flagg drive down this spring without Ward on the +job—I’ll say that much,” declared Brophy, with vigor. “I can’t afford +to make any loud talk about the Three C’s, miss,” he went on, lowering +his voice cautiously, “because I cater to all comers. But I don’t know +another boss driver who couldn’t be scared off or bought off at the +present time, considering the hold the big corporation has got on things +up this way. They’re bound to monopolize the river—the Three C’s gang. +But they can’t freeze out the independents this year if Ward Latisan +stays on the job for Eck Flagg. The death clinch comes this season!”</p> + +<p>“Where’s your law up this way, Mr. Brophy?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“I guess neither side dares to call on the law right now. Law might tie +up everything. Logs have got to come along with the spring driving +pitch, and high water won’t wait till lawyers get done arguing.”</p> + +<p>He took down a gong and pounded on it with a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>padded mallet while he +marched through the office to the porch and back again. It was the +breakfast call.</p> + +<p>“I’ll say about Eck Flagg,” he stated, when he hung the gong back on its +hook, “that he ain’t so much to blame for his sour temper as some folks +are bound to have it. Old Job of the Bible had nothing on Eck for +troubles. No matter what he has done, Eck has been a square fighter. +Probably you ain’t interested, even to the extent of a hoot, in gossip +about the neighbors. But Eck had a bad one put over on him years ago. He +hasn’t been right since that time. Square dealing is his religion. But +to get his worst trimming right in his own family, it was awful. +Son-in-law done it. But I reckon I’d better hang up on that subject, +miss. Here comes Latisan for breakfast.”</p> + +<p>The landlord plodded out.</p> + +<p>This man who seated himself, waiting to be served by her, who was +determined to possess her, had been unwittingly alienated by her from +the duty which was owed to that helpless grandfather in his extremity.</p> + +<p>The reminder which Brophy had tossed at her carelessly had served to +rouse her to desperation. She clung to a service table to keep from +falling. She staggered when she started to cross the room to Latisan; +her hands and feet were prickling as the blood resumed its course in her +veins.</p> + +<p>“You’re sick,” he suggested, solicitously.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. She turned her face from him, afraid of his +questioning gaze. “Give your order, please!”</p> + +<p>“Bring anything.”</p> + +<p>She started away, but turned and hurried back to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>his table, her face +hard with resolution. She feared that the resolution would be weakened +by delay; in a few moments others would come into the room.</p> + +<p>“I have changed my mind about that offer of marriage. This morning I +say, ’Yes!’”</p> + +<p>He gaped at her and started to rise.</p> + +<p>“Don’t leave that chair!” she commanded, her low tones tense. “There are +men in the office looking this way. I’ll marry you when the Flagg drive +is down, with you at the head of it, doing your duty. You may think that +over while I’m in the kitchen.”</p> + +<p>When she returned with food, Latisan, flushed, eager, only partially +assured, looked her in the eye, challenging her candor. “That’s straight +talk, is it?”</p> + +<p>“It is!”</p> + +<p>“I thank God! But why—right here in the open—where I <span class="nowrap">can’t——”</span></p> + +<p>“I’ll answer no questions.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to know why you picked out this place to tell me. I can’t be +shut away from all the glory in the grandest moment of my life! I want +to get up and yell for joy. I want to take you in my arms.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll not allow that. Furthermore, you are to leave for the drive +immediately after you have eaten your breakfast.” Her manner cowed him.</p> + +<p>“Very well!” he returned, meekly. “When I looked into your eyes I knew +that your word to me was good!”</p> + +<p>She was finding the fixity of his gaze disconcerting and leaned above +the table, arranging the dishes which contained his food. She was +grateful for the protection the public room was affording; she would not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>have been able to declare herself in the privacy which love, in most +circumstances, demands.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” he asked, in a half whisper, taking advantage of her +nearness. “You are more than you seem to be. You are, I say! You are not +silly and selfish like most girls in a time like this. You are able to +make me do anything you ask. I’ll go north and fight because you want me +to. But an ordinary girl wouldn’t take a big view of things, as you do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—for the sake of having a man be what he ought to be.”</p> + +<p>He wagged his head doubtfully. “But if you’ll tell me the honest truth +<span class="nowrap">about——”</span></p> + +<p>“Hush! Here comes a man.”</p> + +<p>It was Crowley. He had looked from his chamber window and had seen the +two in conversation in front of the tavern. He was strictly on the job +that day; he had dressed in such a hurry that he was tying his necktie +as he entered the room. He sat down at a table and glared grimly at +Latisan and the girl; provided with ammunition that fortified his +courage, Crowley had resolved to make his bigness in the matter, +unafraid.</p> + +<p>His appearance at that moment and the manner of his espionage and the +memory of what had been said concerning his pursuit of the girl stirred +Latisan to the depths. His emotions had been in a tumult ever since the +girl had declared her promise. He was in no mood to reason calmly. He +could not control himself. He purposed to go to what he thought was his +duty as her accepted champion. Therefore, he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>leaped from his chair, put +his arm about her waist, and pulled her across the room, in spite of her +resistance.</p> + +<p>“Listen to me, you sneak!” he adjured Crowley. “This young lady and I +are engaged to be married.”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” she cried, in mingled fright and fury. “You <span class="nowrap">promised——It +isn’t——”</span></p> + +<p>“I made no promise except to go north because you have asked me to go. +I’m going back to my job, and I’ll have the Flagg logs down if I have to +smash the bottom out of the river,” he boasted, in his new pride. +“Crowley—as I believe your name is—you have heard me announce the +engagement. If you give this young lady another twisted look or crooked +word while I’m away, may God have mercy on your soul!”</p> + +<p>He was talking to the one man who ought to hear that news, so the lover +felt, but his voice was raised in his emotion and Brophy and the +loungers in the office heard, too.</p> + +<p>Latisan kissed her once, swiftly and rapturously.</p> + +<p>According to the code of social procedure in Adonia, as the office +onlookers viewed the matter of congratulation, the occasion called for +three cheers; they were proposed and given and even Brophy joined, but +with sour grace.</p> + +<p>She had endeavored ineffectually to check Latisan’s outburst, +understanding fully the interlocking perils involved in the promulgation +to Crowley that the drive master was going back to his work. It had +become her own personal, vital affair, this thing! She was far from +admitting even then that love was urg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>ing her to the promise she had +made so precipitately. The wild spirit of sacrifice had surged in her. +She was able to pay—to redeem! It was all for the sake of the family! +But this love-cracked idiot, babbling his triumph, had thrown wide the +gate of caution—had exposed all to the enemy; she feared Crowley in his +surly, new mood!</p> + +<p>Poor Ward turned to her a radiant, humid stare of devotion; she +responded by flashing fury at him from her eyes. Her cheeks were +crimson. “Haven’t you any wit in you?” she raged, holding her tones in +leash with effort, her convulsed face close to his amazed countenance.</p> + +<p>“It was to put you <span class="nowrap">right——”</span> he stammered.</p> + +<p>“It has made everything all wrong!”</p> + +<p>Men had come into the room. She hurried away from the dumfounded lover.</p> + +<p>While she went about her work, sedulously keeping her gaze from Latisan, +she heard the men jocosely canvassing the matter. They called to the +drive master, giving him clumsy congratulation. There were timber +cruisers who were going into the north country; they declared with +hilarity that they would spread the news. They ate and went stamping +away, news bureaus afoot.</p> + +<p>She marched to the pathetic incarnation of doubt and dolor after a time; +he was lingering at table in a condition that was near to stupefaction.</p> + +<p>“Why aren’t you on your way?” she demanded, with ireful impatience.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to tell me what the matter is with you!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>“I’ll tell you nothing—not now! But you have something to tell Mr. +Flagg, haven’t you?”</p> + +<p>“You’re right! I’ll go and tell him that I’m starting for the drive. If +I have to smash the hinges off the door of Tophet I’ll put our <span class="nowrap">logs——”</span></p> + +<p>“That’s it!” she cried, eagerly. “Our logs! We’ll call them our logs. +Don’t mind because I seemed strange a little while ago. You’ll +understand, some day. But now hurry! Hurry!” She forced herself to +smile. She was eagerly in earnest, almost hysterical. She spoke his +name, though with effort. “Remember, Ward! Our logs! Bring them +through!”</p> + +<p>He leaped out of his chair. The other breakfasters were gone. She stood +on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>Immediately after Latisan had left on his way to assure Echford Flagg, +the girl was reminded of her putative Vose-Mern affiliations. Crowley +lounged back into the room, taking advantage of the fact that she was +alone. “Put me wise as to why you’re playing this shot with the reverse +English.”</p> + +<p>“Hands off, Crowley! You’re only a watchdog, paid to guard me.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t propose to have our folks double-crossed. You have started that +drive boss back onto his job, and you and he announce an engagement this +morning! You’re cagy or crazy! I won’t have anything put over! If you’re +straight, come through to me and I’ll back you. <span class="nowrap">Otherwise——”</span> He tossed +his hands in an eloquent gesture.</p> + +<p>“I’ll wire to have you pulled down to the city.”</p> + +<p>“I have done some wiring ahead of you. It’s up to our folks to find out +what’s the big idea.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>“Crowley, won’t you leave it all to me?” she pleaded, fighting to the +last ditch for her secret and for time. “Can’t you see that I’m placing +a double-crosser in the enemy’s camp?”</p> + +<p>He looked at her hard and long and his lips curled into a sardonic grin. +“You’re a good one. I’ll admit that. But you can’t stand there and give +me the straight eye and make me believe you have made over Latisan to +that extent. I’ve got him sized. It can’t be done!”</p> + +<p>Crowley was right—she could not meet his sophisticated gaze.</p> + +<p>“What do you expect me to do?” she asked, lamely.</p> + +<p>“Keep him off the drive. If he starts to leave this village to-day I’m +going to grab in.”</p> + +<p>She knew Crowley’s obstinacy in his single-track methods. There was no +telling what he would undertake nor what damage might be wrought by his +interference. She tried to force from him his intentions; he paid no +heed to her appeals or her threats.</p> + +<p>She was fighting for her own with all the wit and power that were in +her; she was standing in the path by which the enemies must advance, +resolved to battle as long as her strength might last, serving as best +she could to distract attention from the main fight to herself, willing +to sacrifice herself utterly.</p> + +<p>Crowley walked with a bit of a swagger from the room, lighted a +cigarette in the office, puttered for a few moments with some old +newspapers on a table, and then went out of doors and strolled along the +road in the direction of the big house on the hill. She observed his +course from a side window. She felt <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>the impulse to run after him and +beat her fists against that broad and stubborn back.</p> + +<p>She saw Latisan come striding down from the Flagg mansion, determination +in his manner.</p> + +<p>The two men met. They halted.</p> + +<p>Her apprehension became agony, but she did not dare to interfere between +them.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span><a name="seventeen" id="seventeen"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">CROWLEY, standing in front of Latisan, twisted his countenance into an +expression of deprecatory, appealing remorse.</p> + +<p>“I have taken the liberty of apologizing to the young lady, sir! Now +that I know how matters stand, I want to beg your pardon very humbly. I +haven’t meant anything wrong, but a man of my style gets cheeky without +realizing it.”</p> + +<p>Latisan had come off well in his interview with Echford Flagg. The old +man seemed to be in a chastened mood. When he had been informed of the +part the girl was playing, the master had admitted that the right kind +of a woman can influence a man to his own good.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the drive master strode down the hill, the radiance of +his expansive joy had cleared out all the shadows. He was willing to +meet a penitent halfway. He put out his hand frankly. Crowley held to +the hand for a moment and put his other palm upon Latisan’s shoulder. +“Congratulations! I know my place, now that it has become a man-to-man +matter between us. But before—well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Latisan, I had +met Miss Jones in New York in a sort of a business way and I was +probably a little fresh in trying to keep up the acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>Latisan had extricated his hand, intending to hurry <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>on about his +affairs. But here was a person who seemed to be in a way to tell him +something more definite about one who was baffling his wild anxiety to +fathom her real identity. However, Latisan did not dare to ask +questions. His own pride and the spirit of protecting her reasons for +reticence, if she had any, fettered his tongue; he was ashamed to admit +to this man, whom he had so recently hated, that the real character of a +fiancée was a closed book.</p> + +<p>“Honestly, she ought to have told you that she knew me,” complained +Crowley. “It would have saved all that trouble between you and me.” He +rubbed his ear reminiscently. “But perhaps she did,” he pursued, +affecting to misinterpret the hardness which had come into Latisan’s +face. “But how she could say anything against me, as far as she and I +are concerned, I can’t understand.”</p> + +<p>“She has not mentioned you to me,” returned Latisan, curtly.</p> + +<p>“That’s queer, too,” said Crowley, wrinkling his brow, his demeanor +adding to the young man’s conviction that the whole situation was +decidedly queer. Once more the smoldering embers were showing red +flames! “Mr. Latisan, get me right, now! I don’t propose to discuss the +young lady, seeing what she is to you. But perhaps you’ll allow me to +refer back to what you said to me, personally, in the tavern a little +while ago. We can make that our own business, can’t we?”</p> + +<p>Crowley accepted a stiff nod as his answer and went on. “You told me +that you are going back to the drive <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>because the young lady has +insisted on your doing so. That right?”</p> + +<p>“It is. But I fail to see how you can make it any part of your business +and mine.”</p> + +<p>“It happens to belong in my business.” He put his hand to his breast +pocket as if to reassure himself. He proceeded with more confidence. +“Are you afraid of the truth, Mr. Latisan—scared to meet it face to +face in a showdown?”</p> + +<p>“I’m in the habit of going after the truth, no matter where it hides +itself.”</p> + +<p>“Then I guess you’d better come along with me. I’ve got to the point +where I’ve got to have the truth, too, or else fetch up in a crazy +house.”</p> + +<p>Crowley’s determination was set definitely on his mind’s single track. +If a man had an urgent reason for doing a certain thing and the +compelling reason were removed, he might naturally be expected to do +something else, Crowley figured.</p> + +<p>If Latisan proposed to go back to work because his love and allegiance +caused him to obey a girl’s commands, he would do the opposite of what +she asked if his love and confidence were destroyed. It seemed to be a +case of two and two making four, as Crowley viewed the thing. He was +done with tangled subtleties.</p> + +<p>He put his hand again on his breast pocket as he walked with the drive +master down the hill. There was a letter in that pocket; Crowley had +purloined it from the girl’s bureau that day when he had so quickly +returned from following her. And he also had a telegram in that pocket; +the wire had come along that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>morning, addressed to Miss Patsy Jones, in +his care.</p> + +<p>The job, as Crowley understood orders, was to keep Latisan off the river +that season. Crowley saw a way of doing that job and of getting the +credit for the performance.</p> + +<p>The girl, staring through the window with strained attention, noting +every detail of the meeting, seeing the appearance of amity and of +understanding, beholding Crowley put his hand on Latisan’s shoulder in +the pose of friendly adviser, suspected the worst; she was stricken with +anguished certainty when Latisan strode toward the tavern; according to +her belief, two men were now arrayed against her. The drive master’s +haste indicated that she had been betrayed by the sullen botcher of +methods.</p> + +<p>In that room she felt like a creature that had been run to +cover—cornered. She wanted to escape into the open. There was honesty +outside, anyway, under the sky, at the edge of the forest, where the +thunder of the great falls made human voices and mortal affairs so petty +by contrast.</p> + +<p>She ran through the tavern office and faced Latisan in the yard; there +were curious spectators on the porch, the loungers of the hamlet, but +she paid no attention to them; she was searching the countenance of +Latisan, avidly anxious, fearfully uncertain regarding what mischief had +been wrought in him.</p> + +<p>He smiled tenderly, flourishing a salute. “All serene in the big house!”</p> + +<p>The white was succeeded by a flush in her cheeks. She looked up into his +honest eyes and was thrilled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>by an emotion that was new to her. It was +impossible not to answer back to that earnest affection he was +expressing. Gratitude glowed in her—and gratitude is a sister of love!</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” put in Crowley, “But can’t the three of us step +inside and have a little private talk?”</p> + +<p>He made a gesture to indicate the gallery of listeners on the tavern +porch.</p> + +<p>Once that morning Lida had found protection by handling an important +crisis in a public place. She was having no time just then to think +clearly. She was feeling sure of Latisan, after his look into her eyes. +She mustered a smile and shook her head when the drive master mutely +referred the matter to her, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“You’d better,” warned Crowley, bridling.</p> + +<p>The girl felt that she had no option except to keep on in the bold +course she had marked for herself. She could not conceive that the +operative would prejudice the Vose-Mern proposition in public. “I cannot +understand what private matters we three have in common, sir. I have no +desire to listen. Mr. Latisan has no time, I’m sure. He is leaving for +the north country.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” agreed Latisan, under the spell of her gaze, won by her, +loyal in all his fiber, determined to exclude all others in the world +from the partnership of two. He had put aside his anxiety to know what +she had been in the city, as Crowley knew her; that quest seemed to be +disloyalty to her. “I’m starting mighty sudden! Sorry, sir! Let Brophy +put <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>your business with us in his refrigerator till the drive is down.”</p> + +<p>Careless of the onlookers, the girl patted his cheek, encouraging his +stand. “Till <em>our</em> drive is down. Remember, it’s ours!” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Harness in my horses,” Latisan called to Brophy’s nephew in the door of +the tavern stable.</p> + +<p>She was human; she was a girl; Latisan’s manner assured her that she had +won her battle with Crowley, whatever might have been the methods by +which he had tried to prevail over the drive master. She could not +resist the impulse to give the Vose-Mern operative a challenging look of +triumph that was lighted by the joy of her victory.</p> + +<p>Crowley’s slow mind speeded up on its one track; he opened the throttle, +smash or no smash! He marched up to Latisan and displayed a badge, +dredging it from his trousers pocket. “That’s what I am, mister, an +operative for a detective agency. So is she!”</p> + +<p>“I am not,” she declared defiantly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe not, after your flop in this case. But you were when you struck +this place, if your word means anything!”</p> + +<p>“You’re a liar,” shouted Latisan. He doubled his fist and drew it back; +the girl seized the hand and unclasped the knotted grip and braided her +fingers with his.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you, Latisan. It’s natural for you to feel that way +toward me right now,” agreed Crowley. “She has slipped the cross-tag +onto you. But you’re no fool. I don’t ask you to take my word. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>Go down +to that railroad station and wire to an address I’ll give you in New +York. Ask her if she dares to have you do it.”</p> + +<p>There was no longer a smolder in Latisan—it was all a red flame!</p> + +<p>He had not realized till then how penetratingly deep had been his +conviction that this girl was something other than she assumed to be.</p> + +<p>Crowley pulled a letter from his pocket, flapped it open, and shoved it +under Latisan’s nose.</p> + +<p>There was no further attempt to deal behind doors with the affair. It +was in Crowley’s mind, then, that spreading the situation wide open +before the gaping throng, which was increasing, crowding about in a +narrowing circle, would assist his plan to make intolerable Latisan’s +stay in that region.</p> + +<p>“Look at the letterhead—Vose-Mern Agency! Look and you’ll see that it’s +addressed to Miss Patsy Jones, Adonia. Take it and read it! It’s orders +to her from the chief!”</p> + +<p>Latisan was plainly in no state of mind to read; he crumpled the letter +in his hand and stuffed the paper into his trousers pocket.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a telegram,” continued the operative. “It’s for her to go back +to New York. It hasn’t been enough for her to double-cross you; she’s +doing the same thing to the folks who have hired her. Nice kind of dame, +eh? I don’t know just what her game is, friend! But I’m coming across to +you and tell you that the big idea is to keep you off the drive this +season. Good money has been put up to turn the trick.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>In the midst of the whirling torches which made up his thoughts just +then, Latisan was not able to give sane consideration to her zeal in +urging him to duty; he was conscious only of the revelation of her +character. Out of the city had come some kind of a design to undo him!</p> + +<p>The village was still agog with the news of his engagement; the news +bureaus on legs had gone north to tattle the thing among all the camps; +and she was a detective sent to beguile him! The faces of the bystanders +were creasing into grins.</p> + +<p>“Ask her!” urged Crowley, relentlessly. “Or ask New York.”</p> + +<p>Postponement of the truth was futile; denial was dangerous; a confession +forced by an appeal to New York would discredit her motives; she had not +formally severed her connection with the agency. She determined to meet +this man of the woods on his own plane of honesty.</p> + +<p>“Come with me where we can talk privately,” she urged; her demeanor told +Latisan that she was not able to back the defiant stand he had taken +with Crowley a moment before.</p> + +<p>“It’s too late now,” he objected, getting his emotions partly under +control. “The thing has been advertised too much to have any privacy +about it now. When they are left to guess things in this section the +guessing is awful! I’m never afraid to face men with the truth. He has +said you came here as a detective. Those men standing around heard him. +What have you to say?”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you let me talk to you alone?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>“If I’m to stand up here before men after this, the facts will have to +come out later; they may as well come out now.”</p> + +<p>He spoke mildly, but his manner afforded her no opportunity for further +appeal; he was a man of the square edge and he was acting according to +the code of the Open Places. She put away womanly weakness as best she +was able and continued with him on his own ground.</p> + +<p>“There is a plot to keep you away from your duty on the drive this +season. You know as well as I do what interests furnished the money for +such a purpose.”</p> + +<p>“And you know about it, do you, because you are one of the detective +gang?”</p> + +<p>“I have worked for the Vose-Mern agency.”</p> + +<p>She could not deny the evidence of that letter which he had shoved deep +down into his pocket. He had reminded her of it by whacking his hand +against his thigh.</p> + +<p>“So that’s what you are!” Again he was losing control of himself.</p> + +<p>Men in the crowd snickered. They were perceiving much humor in the +situation.</p> + +<p>“I can explain later.” She, too, was breaking down under the strain. She +whimpered, pleading with him. “After you have brought down the drive I +can explain <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“Now! It must be now! I can’t bring down any drive till you do explain.”</p> + +<p>She did not understand.</p> + +<p>But he knew all too bitterly under what a sword of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>Damocles he was +standing. Ridicule was ready to slay him! The Big Laugh was already +gurgling deep in the throats of all the folks. The news of his +engagement had gone ahead of him to the north country; the Big Laugh +would roar along in the wake of that news.</p> + +<p>“The truth! It must come out now!” he shouted. “All the truth—the whole +truth about yourself!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell you!” wailed Lida Kennard, turning her back fearsomely on +the big house on the ledges.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a mouthful of truth out of me. Can’t you see how it is?” +growled Crowley.</p> + +<p>“So that’s what you are, is it?” Latisan dwelt on the subject, twisting +the handle that Crowley had given him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Latisan, listen to me! I implore you to forget me—what I am! Go to +your work.”</p> + +<p>“My work has nothing to do with this matter between you and me. So +that’s what you are!” he repeated, insistent on his one idea, looking +her up and down. “A detective sneak!”</p> + +<p>“I am done with the work. I am a human being, at any rate, and you +promised <span class="nowrap">me——”</span></p> + +<p>He sliced his hand through the air. “That’s all off! You lied to me. It +must have been a lie, seeing what you are. But I believed, and I stood +up and took you for mine. The word has gone out. Every man on the Noda +will know about it. I had no rights over your life till you met me. But +when a woman lies to a man to make him do this or that she is laughing +at him behind his back. You have played me for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>a poor fool in the tall +timber. That’s the word that’s starting now.”</p> + +<p>“If you have found out how worthless I am,” she sobbed, “you can go on +with your work and be a real man.”</p> + +<p>He loosed the leash on himself. He mocked her with bitter irony, his +face working hideously. “‘Go on with your work!’ Don’t you have any idea +what men are up these woods? Who’ll take orders from me after this? +They’ll hoot me off the river! I’m done. You have put me down and +under!”</p> + +<p>More than the spirit of sacrifice was actuating her then. Her impulses +were inextricably mingled, but they all tended to one end, to save him +from error. His scorn had touched her heart; meeting him on his own +plane—on the level of honesty—woman with man, she was conscious of +bitter despair because he was leaving her life. She was fighting for her +own—for the old man in the big house, for the new love that was +springing up out of her sympathy for this champion from whom, without +realizing the peril of her procedure, she had filched the weapons of his +manhood at the moment when he needed them most.</p> + +<p>“The heart has gone out of me! You have taken it out!” he cried.</p> + +<p>“I swear before our God that I’ll be straight with you from now on. +Won’t it put heart in you if I’m your wife, standing by you through +everything?” She took a long breath. Her desperation drove her to the +limits of appeal. “I love you! I know it. I must have known it when I +urged you on to your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>duty. I’m willing to say it here before all. Take +me, and let’s fight together.”</p> + +<p>In her hysterical fear lest she was losing all, she took no thought of +her pride; she was making passionate, primitive appeal to the chosen +mate.</p> + +<p>But she did not understand how absolutely hopeless was the wreck of this +man’s fortunes, as Latisan viewed the situation. Ridicule, the taunt +that he had been fooled by a girl from the city, was waiting for him all +along the river. Echford Flagg would be the first to deny the worth of a +man who had received the Big Laugh. No man on the Noda had ever incurred +mock to such a degree. And he had vaunted his engagement to her!</p> + +<p>She went toward him, her hands outstretched; he had been backing away +from her.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” he warned. “I never struck a woman!” He spread his big hand. +All the fury of his forebears was rioting in him.</p> + +<p>He was not swayed by rage, merely; there would have been something petty +in ordinary human resentment at that moment. There was another quality +that was devilishly and subtly complex in the sudden mania which +obsessed him. He had seen woodsmen leaping and shouting in the ecstasy +of drunkenness; liquor seemed to affect the men of the woods in that +way—to accentuate their sense of wild liberty. Latisan had been obliged +to pitch in and quell riots where woodsmen had heaped their clothes and +were making a bonfire of the garments they needed for decency’s sake. +And a mere liquid had been able to put them into that temper!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>But this that was sweeping through all his being was liquid fire!</p> + +<p>He had never been else than a spectator of what alcohol would do to a +man; he had never tasted the stuff.</p> + +<p>Here he was, all of a sudden, drunk with something else—he knew that he +was drunk—and he let himself go! He leaped up and tossed his arms above +his head. By action alone a woodsman expressed his feelings, he told +himself, and he was only a woodsman; the hellions of the world were not +allowing him to make anything else of himself! The north country was +closed to him; his power as a boss was gone. Look at those grinning +faces around him!</p> + +<p>Then he yelled shrilly. Many who stood around understood what that whoop +meant, though it had not been heard for a long time on the Noda. It was +“the Latisan lallyloo”! It had echoed among the hills in the old days +when John Latisan was down from the river and had grabbed a bottle from +the hand of the first bootlegger who offered his wares.</p> + +<p>The grandson, then and there, was veritably drunk with the frenzy of +despair!</p> + +<p>Yanking his arms free, he dragged off his belted jacket and flung it on +the ground; on the jacket, with a pile-driver sweep of his arm, he drove +down his cap.</p> + +<p>“Lie there, drive master!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>The down train of the narrow-gauge was dragging out of the station; a +succession of shrill whistle toots, several minutes before, had warned +prospective passengers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>Latisan ran down the middle of the road and leaped aboard the slowly +moving train when it crossed the highway. Standing on the platform of +the passenger car, he shook his fists at assembled Adonia and yelled +again.</p> + +<p>Brophy, from the tavern porch, looked hard at the girl and started down +the steps, making his way toward the jacket and cap which Latisan had +thrown away.</p> + +<p>She ran and picked them up and hugged them in her arms with defiant +proprietorship.</p> + +<p>“How come?” sneered Brophy. “Latest bulletin seemed to be that the +engagement was broke!” He was suddenly hostile.</p> + +<p>She turned from the landlord and faced Crowley. The operative was +triumphant. “It’s understood that I get the credit for this job,” he +informed her, <em>sotto voce</em>. His air suggested that he was convinced that +the destiny of the Flagg drive had been settled.</p> + +<p>All about her were implacable faces. The grins were gone. There was no +misunderstanding the sentiments which those men entertained toward a +woman who had wrought the undoing of a square man. She presented +completely then the pathetic spectacle of a baited, cowering, wild +creature at bay. She was bitterly alone among them. Even Crowley of the +city was against her. In her agony of loneliness the thought of her kin +in the big house on the hill came to her mind. But to her, in spite of +her passionate efforts to aid, must be ascribed the defection of +Latisan—the breaking of her grandfather’s last prop. She had +intensified in woeful degree the fault of her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>father; she had compassed +the ruin of the old man at a time when he was unable to restore his +fortunes by his own effort. The doors of the house on the hill were +barred by the iron of unforgiveness and by these new fires of her fault, +involuntary though that fault was.</p> + +<p>Brophy stood before her. “I reckon you ain’t going to be very popular +hereabout as a hash-slinger, Miss Whatever-your-name is.” He snapped his +fingers and stretched his hand to command the transfer of the jacket and +cap. “I’ll take ’em and put ’em in Ward’s room.”</p> + +<p>But she clung to what she had retrieved as if she felt that she held a +hostage of fortune. Brophy refrained from laying violent hands on the +articles, and to save his face and create a diversion he turned on +Crowley.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see! You have bragged about being a detective! We don’t stand for +your kind or tricks in this neck o’ woods.”</p> + +<p>There was the menace of growls in the crowd. The mob spirit was +stirring. A man said something about a rail and tar and feathers.</p> + +<p>“I’ll argue with the boys and try to give you a fair start,” stated the +landlord. “But you’d better pack up in a hurry. You can’t wait for +to-morrow’s train under my roof. I’ll furnish you a livery hitch to the +junction. Take the woman with you.”</p> + +<p>It was an ugly crowd; the landlord was obliged to push back men when +Crowley followed Lida into the tavern.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham was just inside the door, where she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>had posted herself as a +spectator and listener. “There’s no telling what they’ll do; they’re +bound to find out that I’m an operative,” she quavered. “You must take +me with you, Buck.”</p> + +<p>He had been appointed her guardian and he could not refuse. But he +glowered at Lida, white and trembling.</p> + +<p>Brophy came in after a struggle at the door; he slammed the portal and +bolted it.</p> + +<p>“They’re usually pretty genteel up here where wimmen are concerned,” he +told Lida, “but they’re laying it all to you. They’ll let you go, +Crowley, if you’ll go in a hurry. Are you one of ’em, too?” he bluntly +asked Miss Elsham, ready to suspect all strangers.</p> + +<p>She nodded. “I’m going with Crowley.”</p> + +<p>“Understanding that you give me full credit,” her associate told her, +his lips close to her ear.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t sure but what I’d better hide you till night,” the landlord +informed Lida. “As I said, they’re naturally genteel, <span class="nowrap">but——”</span> He +hesitated when he heard the growing grumble of voices.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got trouble enough in getting away without taking you on for an +extra load,” was Crowley’s rough repudiation of Lida. “You have +<span class="nowrap">double-crossed——”</span></p> + +<p>“I’ll accept your opinion as an expert in that line,” she said, lashing +her courage back to meet the situation. “I am not asking any favors from +Vose-Mern or their operatives. Nor from you,” she informed the landlord.</p> + +<p>She settled Ward’s cap and jacket more securely in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>the clutch of her +arms. “Unbar and open the door, if you please, Mr. Brophy.”</p> + +<p>He demurred.</p> + +<p>“It’s the door of a public inn. You must open it.”</p> + +<p>He obeyed, standing ready to repel intruders.</p> + +<p>She walked straight out and through the crowd of hostile natives, who +parted to allow her to pass; her chin was up and her eyes were level in +meeting the gaze of any man who stared at her.</p> + +<p>She had made up her mind where she was going, and the thought of that +intended destination put some of the spirit of old Echford Flagg in her.</p> + +<p>When she was free from the crowd she began to run; instinct of the +homing sort impelled her to hasten. She had not settled in her mind what +she would say or do when she got there, but there seemed to be no other +place in all the world for her right then except the big house on the +ledges.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span><a name="eighteen" id="eighteen"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LIDA did not wait to be admitted to her grandfather’s house in the +conventional manner; she did not dare to test her new resolution by a +pause on the steps, and she was afraid that Rickety Dick would enforce +the Flagg injunction against a woman.</p> + +<p>Gasping for breath after her run across the ledges, she flung herself +into the presence of her grandfather.</p> + +<p>Dick was holding a flaming splint of wood to the bowl of Flagg’s pipe. +Startled, he dropped the splint, and the fire burned out unheeded on the +bare floor.</p> + +<p>She held on to the cap and the jacket and with her free hand she beat +upon her breast and tried to pour out a confession of her part in the +mischief which had been done. She could not tell Flagg who she was; she +was telling him what she was. She made herself a part of the Vose-Mern +conspiracy; that seemed to be the best way. She did not try to make +herself better than her associates; she admitted that she was an +operative; in no other way could she account for her presence in the +north country; and the old man’s keen eyes warned her that a less +plausible statement would endanger her secret. Therefore, she arraigned +herself bitterly as the cause of Latisan’s undoing, and to explain her +new attitude she pleaded love and resulting repentance. There seemed to +be no other way of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>giving Flagg a good reason why she was interested in +speeding the fortunes of Latisan and the Flagg drive.</p> + +<p>She began to babble rather incoherently. His silence troubled her. His +gaze was intent.</p> + +<p>After a time, allowing her to talk on, he ordered Dick to bring more +fire for the pipe, and then he puffed and listened a little longer.</p> + +<p>At last he jabbed his pipe stem toward the door, and Dick obeyed the +silent command and left the room.</p> + +<p>“Now, my girl, hold up a moment and get your breath. Sit down!” She +obeyed.</p> + +<p>“I see that you’re hanging on to Latisan’s cap and jacket. Did he pull +himself out of the jacket whilst you were clinging to his collar?” In +spite of the seriousness of the news which she had brought to him, there +was a touch of dry humor in his tone. “He must have had a pretty +desperate change of heart to run away from such a girl, after what he +told me of his feelings this morning.”</p> + +<p>He talked on, allowing her to recover. “Your words have been tumbling +along like logs coming down the Hulling Machine Falls, but I reckon I +understand that a detective agency sent you up here to Delilah my +Samson. I’ve just been reading about that case in the Old Testament. And +you’re sorry, eh? It’s a start in the right direction—being sorry. He +told me this morning that he was going back to the drive in spite of +me—he said it was because you had torched him on to do so. I’ll admit I +haven’t got over being thankful to you for that help. And now it’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>all +tipped upside down, eh? I’m not surprised. It’s the Latisan nature to +blow up! I knew his grandfather well—and I remember! We seem to have +made a bad mess of it, you and I. I’ll own to it that I haven’t been +careful in the management of my tongue where he’s concerned. If I had, +all the girls this side o’ Tophet couldn’t have made him jump his job in +this style. You see, I’m willing to admit my mistake, and that makes me +feel kinder toward you, now that you admit yours.”</p> + +<p>Her courage was coming back to her. Only a veritable frenzy of despair +had forced her into the presence of that old man who had declared his +unalterable hostility to her and hers. She found him singularly and +surprisingly mild in this crisis. Wreathed in the tobacco smoke, his +countenance was full of sympathy. It was an amazing alteration in +Echford Flagg, so those who knew him would have stated, had they been +there to behold.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have to slap on a lot of deceit in that detective +business.”</p> + +<p>“I’m done with deceit. I’ve left that work forever.”</p> + +<p>“So I reckoned whilst I looked at you and heard you talk. I’ve got quite +an eye for a change of heart in persons. I hate to see young folks in +trouble. ’Most always I’m pretty hard on people. I’ve grown to be that +way. Had good reasons! But you seem to have caught me to-day in a +different frame of mind. I didn’t get a good look at you last evening. +I’ve just been telling myself that you remind me very much of somebody I +used to know. There was a time,” he went on, wrinkling his forehead, +“when I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>would have ordered you out of this house, simply on your looks. +But to-day, somehow, I like to keep my eyes on you. Old age has a lot of +whims, you know.”</p> + +<p>She did not venture to speak. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad, sis! Too bad! ’Tis a tough thing to work out, this +Latisan matter. You have started the old John devil a-roaring in him! +And I reckon that now you’re falling in love with the fool, even if you +did come up-country to do something mean to him!”</p> + +<p>She nodded; her emotions were too deeply stirred to permit evasion or +more deceit.</p> + +<p>“I have to depend on hired help, sis. And the trouble with any other +drive master than Latisan is that the opposition crowd can hire away +what Latisan wouldn’t sell—I’ll say that for the boy! It’s a matter of +principle with him—this fight for the independents.”</p> + +<p>“But your men will keep on working, won’t they, sir?”</p> + +<p>“They’ll work—yes! But they won’t fight without Latisan to lead ’em. +That’s why the Three C’s folks are so hot on the trail of one man. +They’re going to trig my drive at the Skulltree dam unless we are +through ahead of ’em. Conservation of water, that’s what they will call +it when they make their play for a court order,” he snarled. “But it’s +only devilish theft of the rights I hold in common—and that’s where +lawyers have their chance to argue, when rights are common.” He found +himself becoming garrulous <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>in his emotion. He frowned. “But why talk +such matters to you; you can’t understand!”</p> + +<p>“No,” she admitted, sadly. “I haven’t any knowledge about drives. I can +only understand that through me a great mischief has been done.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it might have been worse for young Latisan if they hadn’t got rid +of him by this underhand way. Now that he has quit and has gone +larruping off on his own hook, you may as well get what comfort out of +it you can,” he said, trying to ameliorate her distress. “There’s no +telling what they might have been savage enough to do to him if he had +stayed to make the fight as he intended to make it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you give up the fight?”</p> + +<p>With the left hand he lifted his helpless right arm across his knees. +“It’s a two-fisted proposition this year. I guess I’m licked. They’ll +buy in my logs at what price they have a mind to pay and will turn ’em +into paper. The sawmills will have to shut down, and the chap who wants +to build a home will keep on cussing the price of lumber. I have made a +good try of it, sis, but the big combinations are bound to have their +way in the end.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t right for anybody to have his own way without giving the other +man a square deal,” she cried, adding, with bitterness, “though I’m the +last person entitled to preach on that subject.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all in the way of progress, so the syndicate fellows tell us,” he +remarked, dryly. “Maybe they know. Whilst they’re grabbing in all the +money, they may be getting control of all the brains, too.”</p> + +<p>She flung up her arms and accused herself, pas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>sionately: “I have been a +fool. I’d give my very heart to make matters right again!”</p> + +<p>“I think so,” he admitted. “I reckon you’re in earnest.”</p> + +<p>Again his fixed, appraising stare was disturbing her.</p> + +<p>“About <span class="nowrap">Mr. Latisan——”</span> she hurried on. “I can’t believe that he’ll stay +away long.”</p> + +<p>“I guess you know as little about the ways of men up here as you know +about the drives, my girl. There’s plenty of iron in their natures, but +there isn’t much brass in their cheeks. He’s done—he can’t face the Big +Laugh. He’s seen what it has done to others. But you city folks don’t +understand woods ways and notions!”</p> + +<p>She set her firm teeth over her lower lip to control its quivering. Then +she ventured. It was a resolve born out of her desperate desire to +redeem, if she were able. There was one thing she could do—it seemed a +natural thing to do, in that extremity.</p> + +<p>“I have something to ask of you. Please don’t be angry! I’m trying to +square myself!”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead! I’m ready now to be pretty easy natured when somebody is +really in earnest about helping me.”</p> + +<p>“Give me your permission to go north and explain to your men why Mr. +Latisan isn’t on the drive! I’ll tell them everything. I’ll open my soul +to those men. They’ll understand.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not a girl’s job,” he declared, sternly.</p> + +<p>“I have been trained in a hard school, sir. I have been forced to study +men and to deal with men. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>have been sorry because I have been obliged +to do the things I have done. But my knowledge of men may help your +affairs. I am glad I have been through my trials. Let me go north to +your crews! I beg it of you!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to have you messing into any such business. There’s +something about you—something that makes me want to put a safeguard +over you, sis, instead of sending you into danger.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll make the danger worse for me if you don’t give me that +permission—a word from you to them that I’m your agent.” She arose, +flaming with her resolution. “I am going anyway, sir! You can’t stop me +from going where I will in the woods.”</p> + +<p>“You’re right!” he admitted, sadly. “I’m so old and helpless that I +can’t even boss a girl.”</p> + +<p>She stood in front of him and put Latisan’s cap on her head; she pulled +on the belted jacket. “They’ll know this jacket and cap! I’ll tell the +story! Do you think it is folly? No! I can see in your face that you +know what those men will do!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do know! I have been a woodsman in my time, too! After they have +listened to you they’ll hammer hell out of anything that gets in front +of ’em.”</p> + +<p>His face lighted up. He beamed on her. “I told you that old age has its +whims. A minute ago a whim made me want to keep you away from trouble. +Now, by the gods! the same whim makes me want to send you north. You +will stand for Eck Flagg, saying what he’d like to say to his men! The +right spirit is in you! I ain’t afraid that you won’t make good!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>He pointed to an object on the wall of the room. It was a stout staff +of ash tipped with a steel nose and provided with a hook of steel; it +was the Flagg cant dog. The ash staff was banded with faded red stripes +and there was a queer figure carved on the wood.</p> + +<p>“Lift it down and bring it here and lay it across my knees,” he +commanded.</p> + +<p>She ran and brought it.</p> + +<p>“They know that stick along the Noda waters,” he told her, caressing the +staff with his hale hand. “I carried it at the head of the drive for +many a year, my girl. You won’t need letters of introduction if you go +north with that stick in your hand. I would never give it into the hands +of a man. It has propped the edge of my shelter tent, to keep the spring +snow off my face when I caught a few winks of sleep; that steel dog has +rattled nigh my ear when I couldn’t afford to sleep and kept walking. +Tell ’em your story, with that stick in your hand when you tell it! Take +it and stand up in front of me!”</p> + +<p>Her face was white; she trembled when she lifted the staff from his +knees.</p> + +<p>An old man’s whim! The girl believed that she understood better than he +the instinct which was prompting him to deliver over the scepter which +he had treasured for so long.</p> + +<p>And some sort of instinct, trickling in the blood from that riverman +forebear, prompted her strike a pose, which brought a yelp of admiration +from the old man. She had set the steel nose close to her right foot and +propped the staff, with right arm fully extended, swinging the stick +with a man-fashion sweep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>“Sis, where did ye learn the twist of the Flagg wrist when ye set that +staff?” It was a compliment rather than a question, and the girl did not +reply. She was not able to speak; a sob was choking her. Her grip on +that badge of the family authority thrilled her; here was the last of +her kin; he was intrusting to her, as his sole dependence, the mission +of saving his pride and his fortunes. Her tear-wet eyes pledged him her +devoted loyalty.</p> + +<p>“God bless you!” he said.</p> + +<p>“And may God help me,” she added fervently. Impulse was irresistible. +She succumbed. She dropped the staff and ran to the old man and threw +her arms convulsively about his neck and kissed him.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” she faltered, stepping back. “I’m afraid I startled you.”</p> + +<p>“No,” he told her, after a moment of reflection, “I guess I rather +expected you’d do that before you went away. Some more of that whim, +maybe! When do you think of leaving?”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to go at once. I cannot stay any longer in this village.”</p> + +<p>“You’d best get to my drivers as soon as the Three C’s slander does.”</p> + +<p>He shouted at a door and old Dick appeared.</p> + +<p>“Move spry now!” commanded the master. “Have Jeff hitch the big bays +into the jumper. And Jeff will be able to tend and do for me whilst +you’re away. For here’s the job I’m sending you on. Take this young +woman north to the drive. She’s tending to some business for me. See to +it that she’s taken good <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>care of. And bring her back when she feels +that she’s ready to come.”</p> + +<p>“Am I to come here—back to your house <span class="nowrap">to-to——”</span> she faltered.</p> + +<p>“To report? Of course you are!” He was suddenly curt and cold after his +softness of the moment before. He looked as if he were impatient for her +to be gone.</p> + +<p>“Have Dick stop at the tavern for your belongings.”</p> + +<p>“There’s only a small bag, sir.”</p> + +<p>“If you’re short of clothes—well, I advise you to wear Latisan’s cap +and jacket. They’ll keep you warm—and they’ll keep you—reminded!” He +put much meaning in his emphasis of the last word.</p> + +<p>She bowed her head humbly; the clutch at her throat would not permit her +to reply to him. Then, bearing with her the Flagg scepter, she went out +to where the horses were being put to the jumper.</p> + +<p>When he was alone the old man laid his hand on the Bible at his side. +For a long time he gazed straight ahead, deep in his ponderings. Then he +opened the volume and leaved the pages until he came to the family +register, midway in the book. After the New England custom, there were +inscribed in faded ink the names of the Flaggs who had been born, the +names of those who had died, the records of the marriages. Echford +Flagg’s father had begun the register; the son had continued it. Across +the marriage record of Alfred Kennard and Sylvia Flagg were rude +penstrokes. On the page of births was the name of Lida Kennard, and he +slowly ran his finger under it. When he gazed down at the floor again in +meditation <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>he met the stare of the cat that Rickety Dick loved and +petted.</p> + +<p>The cat was bestowing no friendly look on Flagg. He had often cuffed her +whenever she ventured to leap into his lap. He had repulsed the cat as +he repelled human beings who had sought to make up to him. Now he called +to her softly, inviting her with his hand. She backed away with +apprehensive haste.</p> + +<p>“I’m starting late, pussy,” he muttered. “And I was never much of a hand +at coaxing anybody to come to me. But I wish you’d hop up here on my +knee. Come, kitty! Please come!”</p> + +<p>It was a long time before he was able to gain her confidence. He heard +the big bays go trampling away down the ledges. At last the cat came +cautiously, climbing up his leg, and sat on his knees and stared up at +his face in a questioning way.</p> + +<p>“She’s too much like her mother for me not to know her—like her mother +looked when she went away,” he informed the cat. “I reckon I’m a whole +lot different right now than I ever was before. I’m old and sick—and +I’m different. I don’t blame you for looking hard at me, kitty. I’m so +lonesome that I’m glad to have a cat to talk to. She’s got her mother’s +looks—and the Flagg grit. She wants to do it her own way—like I’d want +to do it my way, without being bothered. And I’m letting her do it. It +wouldn’t be a square deal if I didn’t let her. And she’ll do it! It’s in +her! She’s trying to pay back. It’s the style of the Flaggs. She didn’t +come up here to smash me or Latisan. I didn’t believe what she said—a +Flagg knows when another Flagg is lying. She came <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>to help—and she’ll +do it yet! She’s Lida, kitty, Lida!” His tone caressed the name. His +hand caressed the written name.</p> + +<p>Then he turned the pages slowly, going forward in the volume—to the New +Testament.</p> + +<p>And after a time he found words which fitted his new mood and he read +aloud to his feline auditor.</p> + +<p>“‘Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil +speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind to one +another, tenderhearted, forgiving one <span class="nowrap">another——’”</span></p> + +<p>Jeff, the servitor, hearing the mumble of the old man’s voice, tiptoed +to the door and peeped in. He goggled at the tableau and listened to the +words. He was in the state of mind of that oft-quoted doubter who spat +on the giraffe’s hoof and remarked to the bystanders, “Hell! There ain’t +no such animile!”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span><a name="nineteen" id="nineteen"></a>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">BROPHY was distinctly inhospitable when Lida walked into the tavern.</p> + +<p>She curtly stated her errand as she passed him on her way to the stairs, +and when she returned with her bag he allowed her to leave without +opening his mouth. She took the money he offered and put it in her +pocket without counting it.</p> + +<p>The men who were about the place were silent, too. The fact that Flagg +was sending her away in his own hitch stirred their curiosity and had +considerable to do with keeping their rude tongues off a person who had +evidently come to an understanding with the master of the big house.</p> + +<p>“Where are ye headed, Dick?” asked a bystander while the girl was in the +tavern.</p> + +<p>“Up and down,” stated the old man, cryptically.</p> + +<p>“Well, if you want to overtake them chums of hers you’ll have to lay on +the braid pretty smart! If they kept on going at the rate they started +off they’re halfway to the junction by now.”</p> + +<p>When the girl was in her seat Dick sent the bays along at a sharp clip +down the highway by which Crowley and his companion had departed.</p> + +<p>Lida had conferred with Dick on the way down from the big house and had +decided on a bit of guile to divert the attention of the gossips of +Adonia from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>her real objective. According to all appearances she was in +full flight toward the city, or else was chasing up Ward Latisan; the +cynics, after that affair in the street when she had pleaded with the +young man, opined that she was brazen enough to do almost anything that +a girl should not.</p> + +<p>Brophy watched her out of sight.</p> + +<p>“If it ain’t one thing it’s another with these table girls,” was his +sour comment. “I don’t know what I’m liable to draw next; the Queen of +Sheby, maybe!”</p> + +<p>When a hill shut off the view from Adonia the bays swung into a side +lane which connected with the tote road leading north along the Noda +waters.</p> + +<p>A girl who wore for her armor Latisan’s jacket and his cap, and carried +as credentials the woods baton of the last of the independent timber +barons of the Noda, was hastening on her mission with the same sort of +fervent zeal that made Joan of Arc a conqueror.</p> + +<p>Family fealty, the eager desire to right in some measure the wrong done +by her father, anxious determination to repair her own fault—all these +were animating impulses in this Joan of the Northland. But now +especially was she aware that she was seeking by service to absolve +herself in the estimation of a poor chap whose love for her had made him +forget his duty.</p> + +<p>There was no talk between the girl and her charioteer. She had plenty of +thought to occupy her, and he drove on with his gaze straight between +the ears of the nigh horse.</p> + +<p>The road was crooked; when she glanced behind, the woods seemed to be +shutting doors on her, closing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>out the world with which she had been +familiar; and ahead, as the road turned, she was looking into vistas +which led to the unknown—to a duty of tremendous import—to a task +which seemed too great for a girl to accomplish. One knowledge comforted +her—it was a knowledge which came from her childhood memories—she +could trust those rough men of the woods to treat a girl with respect if +she deserved it; but would she be able to convince them that the girl +who wrought such mischief to Ward Latisan deserved respect? They might, +as her grandfather said, ridicule a man who had been fooled by a girl, +if that man appeared to them and tried to make good his authority; but +there would be no laugh in the north country behind Latisan’s back, now +that he had fled desperately from the wreck of his prospects.</p> + +<p>She perceived only silent rebuke, even resentment, in Dick’s countenance +when she stole glances at the hard profile above the old man’s knitted +scarf. It was plain that he did not relish his job. She wondered whether +he believed that her errand was useless. When, after a time, she tried +to draw some opinion out of him he gave her no replies that aided her.</p> + +<p>She felt acutely that she needed sympathy—something for her +encouragement. The old man’s taciturnity hinted that he could be trusted +with a secret so far as outsiders were concerned; as to Flagg, she was +not sure of Dick’s reliability in keeping anything away from a master to +whom he was devoted. But if the old man were kept away from <span class="nowrap">Adonia——</span></p> + +<p>“Do I understand that you’re to stay north until I’m ready to go back?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>“I’ve got to. It’s orders.”</p> + +<p>She was choking with the desire to tell him who she was. The lie which +she had told him in the tavern was a rankling memory—he had been such a +pitiful figure that day.</p> + +<p>Again she looked behind. There were many miles between her and Adonia, +and the doors of the woods kept closing.</p> + +<p>“I need all your help in this thing. I must have a faithful friend. It +is the one great effort of my life. You can understand so well! I—I +<em>am</em> Lida Kennard!”</p> + +<p>Rickety Dick threw up his arms. The reins fell from his hands. “Praise +the Lord!” he yelled. The discarded reins slapped the big bays, the +shout in that silence caused them to leap wildly. The tote road was +rough and rocky and the equipage was light. Almost instantly the horses +tore the tongue from the jumper, which was trigged by a bowlder. The +animals crashed around in a circle through the underbrush, leaped into +the tote road, and went galloping back toward Adonia, seeking their +stalls and safety.</p> + +<p>Dick rose from where he had fallen and rushed to the girl, who was +clinging to the seat of the jumper. He took her in his arms, comforting +her as he would have soothed a child. He wept frankly and babbled +incoherently. A part of his emotion was concern for her, but more +especially was it joy because she had discovered herself to him.</p> + +<p>“It was in me—the hope that it was you. But I buried it; I buried it,” +he sobbed.</p> + +<p>For some moments he was too much absorbed to note the plight in which +they had been left. Then his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>laments were so violent that the girl was +obliged to soothe him in her turn.</p> + +<p>“But when those horses rush into the yard! Think of it! He’ll cal’late +we’re killed. Him penned there in his chair with worry tearing at him! I +must get the word to him.” In his frantic care for the master’s peace of +mind he ran away down the road, forgetting that he was abandoning the +girl.</p> + +<p>But in a few moments he came running back to her. “That’s the way it +always is with me! Him first! But after this it’s you—and I was leaving +you here in the lurch. But I don’t know what to do!” He looked at her, +then at the broken jumper; he gazed to the north and he stared to the +south; in that emergency, his emotions stressed by what she had told +him, he was as helpless as a child.</p> + +<p>Her own concern just then was for her grandfather as well as for +herself. Those runaway horses appearing in the yard would rouse his +bitter fear; they would also start a hue and cry which would follow her +into the north country.</p> + +<p>“You must go back, at once!” she urged Dick. “Follow as fast as you can. +The horses will quiet down; they’ll walk. You may overtake them. You +must try.”</p> + +<p>“But you!” he mourned.</p> + +<p>She lifted the cant dog from the floor of the jumper. “I shall keep on +toward the drive—somehow—some way. This will protect me; I’m sure of +it.”</p> + +<p>He puckered his face and shook his head and expressed his fears and his +doubts.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>“Then I’m showing more faith than you in what this stands for,” she +said, rebukingly. “I believe in it. I trust to it. Haven’t you the same +kind of loyalty where my grandfather is concerned—after all your years +with him?”</p> + +<p>She had appealed to zealous, unquestioning devotion, and it replied to +her. “I reckon you’re right. It wouldn’t be showing proper respect if I +didn’t meet you halfway in the thing.” He reached out his hand and +patted the staff. “I’m only a poor old bent stick beside that one. I +even let the horses run away. Yes, they have run away—and now it’s all +the long miles to the drive! How’ll ye ever get there, Miss Lida?”</p> + +<p>“By starting!” she returned, crisply, with something of Flagg’s manner.</p> + +<p>“There are tote teams going north. Anybody’ll be glad to give you a +lift. There are bateaus above here, ferrying supplies up the broad +water, and you may see a <span class="nowrap">canoeman——”</span> He was wistfully grabbing at +hopes.</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid,” she assured him bravely.</p> + +<p>He helped her with advice while he busied himself by hooking the handle +of her bag over the staff; she carried it across her shoulder and had +something cheerful to say about poverty making light luggage.</p> + +<p>In that fashion she fared toward the north, after she had forced a +pledge from the old man that he would keep her secret until her work was +done; she was guilelessly unaware that Flagg’s perspicacity had +penetrated her secret.</p> + +<p>Dick plodded toward the south.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>There, in the midst of the forest, dwarfed by the big trees, they +seemed to be weak reeds for the support of the Flagg fortunes.</p> + +<p>Before a bend of the road shut them from sight of each other they turned +and waved a farewell which renewed the pledge.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span><a name="twenty" id="twenty"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2> + + +<p class="cap">FOR a time Lida felt unutterably and miserably lonely and helpless. She +had stepped out of everything that was familiar in the way of human +contact and environment; she was facing the new, the untried, something +that was not a woman’s job, as her grandfather had declared.</p> + +<p>But it was a job for that one of the Flaggs who still had the grit and +the strength to perform it!</p> + +<p>With that thought came her reaction. She began to realize that as long +as Dick had been her companion, her guardian, she had not been conscious +of the real exaltation of determination which now glowed in her. She +felt courage born of sacred zeal. She was alone, but no longer did that +thought trouble her. Because she was alone it was up to her! She walked +on with a steadier stride. If she appeared at the drive under the convoy +of old Dick she was only a girl sent to whine a confession of fault and +to wheedle men to help her repair it. Would it not be well to take those +men fully into her confidence? She was resolved to tell them that she +loved Ward Latisan; she was admitting this truth to herself and she was +in a mood to tell all the truth to honest men who would be able to +understand. She was going north to inspire faith and courage and +loyalty. Would not the known granddaughter of Echford Flagg be able to +exert that com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>pelling moral influence over the crew? Those men were +primitive enough to understand the urge of honest love of woman for a +man; and there was the spirit of chivalrous romance in the north +country. She knew it.</p> + +<p>Her heart was bolder as she walked on, but her feet ached and the rough +road wearied her. She met no human being; she sat for a time on a +wayside bowlder, hoping that some straggling tote team would come up +from the south and overtake her.</p> + +<p>The road snaked along in the Noda Valley, and from time to time she was +close to the turbid flood which swept down ice cakes and flotsam. From +her bowlder she could see a broad and calm stretch—a deadwater of which +she did not know the name.</p> + +<p>Then, close to the shore where she waited, came a canoe headed upriver. +Two men were in it, paddling sturdily, taking advantage of eddies and +backwash. Fresh from the city as she was, she felt a thrill of sudden +terror; the men were Indians and wore the full regalia of tribal dress.</p> + +<p>As a child she had seen and remembered well the Tarratines of the +region; they had been dressed like other woodsmen. These Indians with +feathers and beads put a strange fear into her in that solitude. She +slid from the rock and crouched behind it. She grasped the staff of the +cant dog more firmly; it was her only weapon of defense. But when her +fingers felt the depressions of the totem mark she turned from terror to +hope. Latisan, at their first meeting, had referred to the status of +Echford Flagg among the Tarratines. Courage was back in her again, along +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>with her new hope. She leaped to her feet and called to the Indians and +flourished a salute. They hesitated a moment, then drove their craft to +the shore a pebble toss away from her.</p> + +<p>She did not speak to them—she held the staff so that the emblem was +shown to them. They disembarked, approached slowly, peered at the totem, +and saluted with upraised palms.</p> + +<p>“I have the right to carry it,” she told them. “It is Echford Flagg’s. +He gave it into my hands. He said it is known along the river and will +help me. I want to go north to his drive. He has sent me. It is on his +business!”</p> + +<p>She received no immediate encouragement from their manner; they looked +at each other and turned their gaze again to her.</p> + +<p>“Frank Orono,” said one, patting his hand on his beaded breast. “Him +brother, Louis Orono.”</p> + +<p>“The drive is up there. If you’re going only a little way in that +direction won’t you take me along in your canoe?” she pleaded, +confessing, “I’m so tired. There was an accident to the team—I’ve had +to walk.”</p> + +<p>“You see!” said Frank Orono, stroking his hand over the feathers of his +headdress. “Big time for tribe. All dressed up. Him, me, we go to Olamon +Island. Governor live there—Chief Susep Nicola. His girl she marry +to-night. Big time!” He grinned. That evidence of human feeling in the +countenance which had been so impassive heartened the girl.</p> + +<p>“And if I can get as far as Olamon with <span class="nowrap">you——”</span></p> + +<p>They ducked their heads in permission.</p> + +<p>“Maybe Chief Susep send you on. Chief he much <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>like him!” Frank Orono +pointed to the staff. “Chief cut in totem sign, his own hands. You come. +Be all right.”</p> + +<p>They spread a blanket for her in the middle of the canoe and paddled on.</p> + +<p>It was then past midafternoon of her crowded day.</p> + +<p>When at last they swung around a wooded point and beheld the Indian +village of Olamon the dusk was deepening. Many lights twinkled and a +huge bonfire waved flaming tongues.</p> + +<p>“Big time!” chuckled Frank Orono. “Pretty girl—nice feller she marry. +Chief be glad to see you—you tell him!”</p> + +<p>Those who were gathered at the pull-out place surveyed her with +curiosity. The bonfire lighted the scene and many were able to see the +totem mark on the staff of the cant dog. Those saluted her respectfully +and passed the word to others, who came crowding about.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the brothers Orono escorted her into the presence of +Sachem Nicola, Lida entertained the confidence of one who was among +friends. The chief—or rather, the elected governor of the tribe—dwelt +in a modest cottage, and with him was the priest who had come for the +wedding ceremony. It was the priest who displayed the liveliest interest +in the girl and he promptly began to seek the reason that had brought +her north with that emblem of authority. He questioned her with +kindness, but with much vigor.</p> + +<p>But Susep Nicola asked no questions. He seemed to accept her presence as +a quite natural thing. A Tarratine never puts a question to a guest; the +guest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>may explain or state his business in his own good time. The +sachem set a chair for her and relieved her of the staff and her bag. He +put his finger on the emblem and smiled. There was inquiry in his eyes +whether she knew and understood. She bowed her head.</p> + +<p>As best she could she parried the questions of the inquisitive priest +without making it appear that she was trying to hide anything. “It’s an +errand, and Mr. Flagg was kind enough to loan the staff as my token in +these parts. You know he is ill and cannot go about any more. He must +leave certain things to others.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” admitted the priest, plainly struggling with a hankering to ask +her bluntly what service a girl could perform for Flagg on the drive, +“the ladies in these days are into all the affairs of men as well as on +the juries, so we must consider it as quite natural that you have been +sent up here by Mr. Flagg. At any rate, we should be grateful that you +are here,” he declared, gallantly.</p> + +<p>“It’s on account of the accident to my team that I’m forced to intrude +at a time like this,” she apologized to Nicola. He was an old man, gaunt +and bowed, and his festal trappings seemed rather incongruous +decorations.</p> + +<p>“But you bring my brother’s staff, and it makes you welcome for yourself +and stands for him because he cannot come.”</p> + +<p>He called, and a woman appeared. He gave directions, and the woman +offered to conduct Lida to a room in the cottage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>“You are honored guest,” said the governor. “In an hour the wedding +takes place in the church, and then the wedding supper!”</p> + +<p>“To which I beg permission to escort you,” said the priest, bowing low +as Lida went from the room.</p> + +<p>She laid off her woods panoply of cap and jacket and made herself fit +for the festival to such an extent as her scanty wardrobe would permit.</p> + +<p>Before the wedding procession started for the church she was presented +to the bride, Nicola’s youngest daughter. The woman who had shown Lida +to her room had gossiped a bit. The bride was the fruit of the +governor’s second marriage and had inherited her French Canadian +mother’s beauty. And the groom was a French Canadian, a strapping chap, +a riverman of repute.</p> + +<p>Lida was told that the men of the river, the jacks of the driving crews +far and near, were making much of the wedding on account of their liking +for Felix Lapierre. She had looked from her window and had seen bateaus +come sweeping down, loaded with shouting men, the oars flashing in the +light of torches set in the bows of the big boats. She felt more +confident in regard to the morrow; those bateaus would be going back to +the north and she had determined to make her plea for passage. In her +anxiety the halt for the night was irksome. But she concealed her +feelings and took her place in the procession, a post of honor that was +deferentially assigned to her by the chief.</p> + +<p>The flares of moving torches lighted all and the smoke from them wavered +above the plumes of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>festal costumes and spread the illumination +among the swaying boughs of the spruces and the pines.</p> + +<p>An Indian brass band of pretensions rather more than modest led the way +toward the church. The rear guard was made of rivermen who marched in +ragged formation, scuffling, elbowing one another, shouting jokes, +making merry after their manner. Their boots, spurred with drivers’ +spikes, crunched into the hard earth and occasionally struck fire from +an outcropping of ledge. They pulled off those boots at the door of the +church and went into the place, tiptoeing in their stocking feet.</p> + +<p>So Alice and Felix were joined in marriage.</p> + +<p>Lida sat beside the girl’s mother during the ceremony.</p> + +<p>The tears that are shed by womankind at weddings form a baptism for +sentiments which cannot be easily translated into exact understanding. +It had begun to seem very far away in time and space, that tragedy of +the morning in Adonia, that wreck of a man’s love, and the blasting of +what Lida had admitted to herself was her own fond hope. Now, in this +scene, hearing the words which gave lovers the sacred right to face the +world hand in hand, her own grievous case came back to her in poignant +clearness. She wept frankly; there had been honest tears in the mother’s +eyes. The two looked at each other and then the mother’s hand slid into +the girl’s and mutely expressed for the stranger what could not be put +into words. There were no questions and no replies—the situation +required none.</p> + +<p>For the more casual guests, the rivermen and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>others, the supper was +spread out of doors near the water. It was a simple feast which had been +cooked over coals in the open.</p> + +<p>The sachem’s party ate in a large room; by day it served the women of +the tribe as a workshop. The walls were gay with the handicraft which +had been hung up to clear a space for the tables. There were braided or +woven baskets of all sizes and every hue; there were beaded skins and +frippery of feathered gewgaws and moccasins and miniature canoes and +plaques of birch, hand carved. And subordinating all else, even the +scents and savors of the food, was the perfume of the sweet grass.</p> + +<p>Outdoors, in a circle of torches, the band played merry airs.</p> + +<p>“You should not be sad, mam’selle,” reproved Father Leroque, who had +constituted himself Lida’s squire at supper. “This is a very merry +occasion.”</p> + +<p>“I feel all the more as if I were intruding—bringing my troubles here.”</p> + +<p>The chatter of many voices made a shield for conversation between the +two. The priest hesitated for some time; then he made sure that nobody +was listening and leaned closer to her.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, mam’selle, if I seem presumptuous in touching on a +matter regarding which you have not given me your confidence. I may be +allowed to mention a bit of news. It came to me just before we sat down +to supper. News travels fast in this region, you may know. From mouth to +mouth it flies. Bateaus have come up the river, and the men of those +bateaus have listened to timber cruisers and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>have heard from the +drivers of tote teams who have come scattering through the woods below. +There is the news of an engagement. I trust I may be allowed to speak of +the news to you because it is my thought that you are the young lady +concerned.”</p> + +<p>She was not able to reply.</p> + +<p>“And there is more news,” he persisted. “Pardon me if I mention that, +too. It is my province to console those who are in trouble, as best I +may. Perhaps there is some way in which I can help you. I think highly +of young Latisan. I know him because my duties have taken me into the +Tomah region. There has been trouble between you and him—a +misunderstanding. Is there any way in which I can be a mediator—as his +friend?”</p> + +<p>“He has gone away,” she choked. “I don’t know where he is. It was my +fault. If I could have explained, it might have helped, but he would not +wait to hear me through.”</p> + +<p>The priest’s gentleness had conquered her resolution to keep her secret +till she reached the men of the Flagg drive. He perceived her bitter +need of sympathy.</p> + +<p>“I respect confidences, even those given me outside the pale of my +church’s confessional. Young Latisan is like his grandfather—tinder for +a stray spark. If I know your fault—if I can tell him, when I see him, +what you would have liked to tell <span class="nowrap">him——”</span></p> + +<p>Hurriedly, in low tones, stammering in her eagerness, she did reveal who +she was, what she had tried to do, and what she hoped to be able to do.</p> + +<p>He was instantly alive to her cause with all the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>sympathy that was in +him—an especially sincere sympathy because as a missionary priest he +was close to the hearts of all the folk of the north country, probing +their affairs with an innocent but vivid interest and striving always to +aid with earnest zeal.</p> + +<p>Though Lida had parried his questions at first, protecting her secret, +she was now grateful because he had persisted; his manner and his nature +removed him from the ranks of mere busybodies. A comforting sense arose +from having confided in him.</p> + +<p>“In the Tomah I will find young Latisan; I am on my way across the +mountains, mam’selle. He must be awake and himself by now; he must have +gone home. When I tell him the truth he will lift all the trouble from +your shoulders. But till he comes you must be brave. And who knows? You +may be able to smooth the path! If you plead your grandfather’s cause up +here, I believe even the great Comas company will listen and be kind. +There are many outside this door who have come down from the drives to +have a bit of fun at the wedding. There must be Flagg men. I will find +out.”</p> + +<p>“Let me go with you,” she urged, anxiously.</p> + +<p>He demurred.</p> + +<p>“But I’ll not speak to them. If I can see them—only a few of them—the +real men of our drive—I believe I shall find courage to go on.”</p> + +<p>She prevailed, though he was doubtful and warned her that the babbling +of the new gossip might be embarrassing.</p> + +<p>And so it proved as Father Leroque feared; men perceived only the +beguilement of Ward Latisan and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>had heard only the sordid side of the +happenings in Adonia; the girl was glad because she was hid in the gloom +outside the circle of light that was the nimbus of the bonfire. They +were laughing as they discussed a matter which had eclipsed the interest +in the wedding. Her cheeks were hot and she was scarcely restrained by +the priest’s monitory palm on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>Men were feasting and gossiping; they were herded around the fire, +squatting Turk fashion, steaming pannikins on the ground by their sides, +heaped plates on their knees.</p> + +<p>“Fifteen of us,” stated a man, answering a question. “And prob’ly more +to follow. Ben Kyle has gone up there in a hurry, grudge and all, and is +hiring for the Comas. If there ain’t going to be any fight we may as +well work for the Three C’s.”</p> + +<p>“Stay here!” commanded Father Leroque, patting the girl’s arm. “Stay +where they can’t see you.” He stepped forward into the firelight. “Do I +understand that the Flagg crew is breaking up?”</p> + +<p>“Fifteen of us in this bunch,” restated the man, rapping his pannikin to +dislodge the tea leaves and holding it out for more of the beverage. +“Wedding brought us down—the news we hear is going to keep us going. +Flagg is done.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if his men desert him. You mustn’t do it; it isn’t square.”</p> + +<p>The priest found it easy to locate the recreants among the other +rivermen; they shifted their eyes under his rebuking gaze. “Go back to +your work. Another will come in young Latisan’s place.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>“All respect to you, Father! But we can’t do it,” said the spokesman. +“We’re Latisan’s men. The rest of the gang will laugh us out of the crew +if we go back.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have Latisan himself on the job inside of a few days, my men,” +declared the priest, stoutly.</p> + +<p>He had promised to them another who would take the drive master’s place; +now he promised Latisan. The men were merely puzzled; they were not +convinced.</p> + +<p>“Will you go back?”</p> + +<p>“We can’t go back.” It was said with conviction, and a mumble of voices +indorsed him. “Still, all respect to you, Father! But Latisan won’t fit +any longer even if he does go back. He has let himself be goofered.”</p> + +<p>Father Leroque had set up his temporary altar in many a lumber camp; he +knew woodsmen; therefore, he knew that argument with those men would be +idle.</p> + +<p>“You have heard,” he said to Lida when the two walked away deeper into +the shadows. “I’m sorry. But so the matter stands.”</p> + +<p>“But if I go now and talk to them—confess to <span class="nowrap">them——”</span></p> + +<p>“They are Latisan’s own men, and the story is fresh, and their +resentment is hot. You will not prevail, mam’selle. And if you fail +to-night with those men you risk failing with all. You must go on to the +drive—talk to the others who are still loyal. I fear much, I must warn +you, but I will not try to keep you from what seems to be your duty. It +would be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>too great unhappiness for you if you should go back now, +feeling that you had not done your best.”</p> + +<p>The bandsmen had eaten of the wedding feast and were again valorously +making gay music outside the workshop building from whose windows poured +light and laughter.</p> + +<p>“I can’t go back in there—I can’t!” sobbed Lida. “Right now I want to +hide away.”</p> + +<p>With gentle understanding the priest escorted her to the door of the +sachem’s cottage. “I will pray for you, that the morning may bring good +courage again. I will talk with you then—in the morning.”</p> + +<p>She stammered broken words of gratitude and escaped to the covert of the +little room.</p> + +<p>Father Leroque went back to the wedding party and called the governor +out into the night. For a long time the two conferred, walking to and +fro under the big pines.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span><a name="twenty-one" id="twenty-one"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">SUNRISE was crystal clear, with frosty crispness, for April in the +northern latitudes flirts long with Winter on his way to everlasting +snows. Lida saw the sun come quivering over the big trees and sat by her +window, continuing the doleful ponderings which had made the night black +and dismal. There was no cheer for her in the morning radiance; as she +faced what was ahead of her, new fear grew in her; faith in herself was +waning after the defection of Latisan’s men. Would Echford Flagg’s own +crew stand by a stricken master or hearken to the appeal of Flagg’s kin?</p> + +<p>The rivermen guests had departed; there were no bateaus on the shore; +faint smoke came wreathing from the black embers of the feast fire.</p> + +<p>Early as it was, there was the stir of life in the other rooms of the +cottage, and she ventured forth timidly into the presence of the +governor’s family. The little mirror in her room had revealed to her the +pallor of her face and the mournful anxiety in her eyes.</p> + +<p>There was no talk at breakfast; the family copied the manner of the +governor, who had greeted Lida with a single word, gestured her to her +chair, and now ate in silence. All his festal trappings had been laid +aside; he was a grave, wrinkled man in the ordinary attire of a +woodsman. In her new humility <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>Lida wondered how she would summon +courage to ask for canoemen to take her north. The impulse to keep on +toward the drive was no longer so keen and courageous and absorbing, she +realized. She had dreamed vividly when she stood in the presence of +Echford Flagg; but she had begun to face practicality, and the +difficulties frightened her.</p> + +<p>Before the breakfast was finished, Father Leroque came in; he had lodged +in the quarters provided for his visits, a small room in the vestry.</p> + +<p>The sisters who taught the boys and girls of the community had brought +his food. But he sat at the elbow of the governor’s wife and drank the +coffee that she poured for him. He was cheery, vivacious, and he smiled +consolingly on Lida, who was not able to return his morning optimism. +His arrival broke the fetters of silence, and even Susep Nicola joined +in the chatter which the priest kept stirring.</p> + +<p>Lida kept her gaze on the floor and saw the broad shaft of sunlight +shift slowly and relentlessly, marking the passage of precious time.</p> + +<p>“I must go,” she said, suddenly, looking into the countenance of Nicola.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I ought to have been on my way before.”</p> + +<p>“It’s for you to say when you go; you are welcome here,” he returned. “I +have waited for you to say.” It was according to his code of +hospitality—the guest must indicate desire. He rose. His wife brought +to Lida the jacket and the cap. But the chief picked up the Flagg cant +dog and carried it when he led the way to the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>Father Leroque seemed to understand what was in Lida’s mind just then. +“You are worried about how you are to travel, is it not so? You do not +need to ask, mam’selle!” He bowed her to the door.</p> + +<p>In front of the sachem’s house hung a broad disk of tanned moosehide in +a frame. Nicola pounded on the makeshift gong with a mallet. Men +assembled quickly in front of him, coming as if they had expected the +summons.</p> + +<p>“You know. I have told you,” said the chief. He stroked his hand over +the totem mark on the cant dog handle. “You know how our brother has +been the good friend of the Tarratines on this river.”</p> + +<p>One step in advance of the others of the throng stood Felix Lapierre, +the bridegroom.</p> + +<p>“How many?” asked the chief.</p> + +<p>“Twenty,” said Felix. “And all very much happy to do the good service.”</p> + +<p>The priest smiled into the amazed eyes of the girl. “For your +conveyance? Ah no, mam’selle. For your good help on the drive. They are +rivermen—the best. Felix Lapierre leads them and you shall see for +yourself what a king of the white water he is. He will be your +right-hand man on the drive. It is all very fine, eh, mam’selle?”</p> + +<p>She was staring from face to face, overwhelmed. She could not reply.</p> + +<p>“We talk it over—him and me—last night,” said Nicola, indicating the +priest by a respectful bow. “It’s for my brother, and the blood of my +brother.” He bowed to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>“And all so very happy,” repeated Felix. His black eyes sparkled and he +flung up his hands in the gay spirit of emprise. “You must not care +because some have run away. They would not be good in a crew if they +feel that way now. We feel good. We shall work for you; we are your +men.”</p> + +<p>The big matter, this astounding making good of her forces, this rallying +of volunteers in such chivalrous and unquestioning fashion—she found +herself unable to handle the situation in her thoughts or treat it with +spoken words just then. But the other—the human <span class="nowrap">thing——</span></p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s the honeymoon,” she stammered. “It will be taking you away +from your wife.”</p> + +<p>“She’s my girl,” put in Nicola. “She tells him to go.”</p> + +<p>Father Leroque perceived Lida’s distressful inability to pull herself +together at that moment, and he employed his ready tact, giving her time +for thought. “It’s quite a natural thing, this taking away of the new +bridegroom for the service of the Flaggs,” he declared with a chuckle. +“There’s even a song—I think it was written by Poet O’Gorman. Do you +know it, Felix? I can see by your grin that you do. Very well. Let’s +have it. As I remember it, it states the case according to the Flagg +methods.”</p> + +<p>Lapierre pulled off his cap; his eyes were alight with merriment; he +sang gayly:</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="block">The night that I was married—the night that I was wed—<br /> +Up there came old Echford Flagg and rapped on my bed head.<br /> +Said he, “Arise, young married man, and come along with me,<br /> +Where the waters of the Noda they do roar along so free.”<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>“You see!” suggested the priest, archly, smiling, palms spread. “When +Flagg calls, the honeymoon must wait. It promises good adventure, and +Felix would be sorry if he were not in it.”</p> + +<p>Cap in hand, Lapierre swept his arm in a broad gesture of respectful +devotion. It was a touch of gallantry which raised the affair above the +prosaic details of mere business and which made the relations closer +than those of employer and employed.</p> + +<p>In Lida gratitude was succeeding amazement, and the glow of that +gratitude was warming her courage into life again. When she had stepped +from Nicola’s door a few moments before she felt bitterly alone and +helpless and she had no eye for the glory of the day. Suddenly the +sunshine seemed transcendently cheery. All the aspects of the case were +changed. Now she could go on to the drive as one of the Flaggs should +go—with loyal men at her back to replace those who had deserted. She +could hearten a broken crew with men, not merely with a strange girl’s +plaintive story and appeal.</p> + +<p>“We’re ready, mam’selle,” said Felix.</p> + +<p>The women of the community were gathered in front of the sachem’s house.</p> + +<p>Lapierre went smiling to his bride and put his arm about her; but when +he started to draw her toward Lida the latter anticipated the coming by +running to meet them. She took the little bride in her arms.</p> + +<p>The priest, Felix, and the governor swapped looks and nods which +indorsed an understanding that was wordless between the young women.</p> + +<p>When Lida turned from the governor’s daughter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>she saw the governor +himself coming toward her. He held out the cant dog; it lay across his +palms and he tendered it respectfully.</p> + +<p>She winked the mist of tears from her eyes and struggled with a +hysterical desire to babble many words.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” warned the priest. “We all know!”</p> + +<p>There, in a golden silence, she realized how cheap and base was the +clinking metal of speech that had been the currency of herself and +others in the crowded town.</p> + +<p>The river, slowed by the deadwater, was mute, though its foam streaks +showed where it had crashed through the gorges above. A few chickadees +chirruped bravely. There were no other sounds while the girl took the +Flagg scepter in her own hands.</p> + +<p>She walked with Felix to the shore, where the flotilla of canoes lay +upturned at the pull-out place. Again the Oronos were assigned to her, +and she was comforted much because they no longer seemed like strangers.</p> + +<p>“Au revoir!” called Father Leroque when the canoes were afloat on the +brown flood. “I’m making haste to the Tomah, mam’selle, to keep my +promise!”</p> + +<p>He had already accomplished so much for her! In her new thanksgiving +spirit she was finding it easy to believe that he could bring about what +her self-acknowledged love for Latisan so earnestly desired.</p> + +<p>In single file, holding close to the shore, the canoes went toward the +north. There was no talk between those who paddled; against the brown +shore the canoes were merely moving smudges.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>Rufus Craig, coming down the middle of the deadwater in one of the +great bateaus of the Comas company, paid no attention to the smudges. +The bateau rode high and rapidly on the flood that moved down the +channel. Craig was writing in his notebook and four oarsmen were obeying +his command to dip deep and pull strong.</p> + +<p>Craig had met Ben Kyle by appointment at the foot of the Oxbow portage +and he had found Kyle to be particularly malevolent and entirely +willing—and Kyle had gone north to the Flagg drive in the pay of the +Three C’s.</p> + +<p>It had been a profitable interview, as Director Craig viewed it.</p> + +<p>Now he was chasing along the trail of rumor to Adonia; the rumor was +encouraging. If Latisan really had been pried out of the section, Craig +saw an opportunity to run back to New York to make a private settlement +with Mern and enjoy a little relaxation before the pressing matters of +the drive in full swing claimed all his attention. Right then, according +to all appearances, the Comas business up-country was doing very well in +the hands of the understrapper bosses. Therefore, Director Craig smiled +over the pages of his notebook.</p> + +<p>The brown smudges in single file went on and on. Noon at the foot of the +portage at Oxbow! Lida sniffed the wood smoke of the cook fire and ate +her lunch and drank her tea.</p> + +<p>Up the narrow trail of the gorge she followed at the rear of her men; +the canoes, upturned on their shoulders, glistened in the sparkling +sunshine. She <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>was bringing real aid in a time of stress, as one of the +Flaggs should! More and more that consciousness heartened her.</p> + +<p>Quiet water at the put-in, then rapids where the canoes were poled, the +irons clinking on the rocks over which the turbid waters rolled; more +calm stretches where haste was made.</p> + +<p>A night in the open at a camping site where a couch of boughs was piled +for her under a deftly contrived shelter of braided branches of +hemlocks.</p> + +<p>And on in the first flush of the morning toward the drive.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span><a name="twenty-two" id="twenty-two"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</h2> + + +<p class="cap">BEN KYLE made “his bigness” when he went into Flagg’s crew on his +mission for Craig. He was not admitting to himself or anybody else that +he was traitor. He blustered and bullyragged; he had been their boss and +he had been fired without cause, he insisted. Even the loyal men did not +presume to answer back; he had been too recently their master and the +aura of authority still persisted. He came with a white-hot grudge and +with rumors which he embroidered to suit his needs. Kyle had been far on +the edge of affairs, and only the ripples of the Adonia events reached +him. But his statement that Latisan had run away with a girl seemed to +be certified by the drive master’s continued absence. And there were +those stories of Latisan’s former weakness in the city; they had been +sleeping; they were not dead.</p> + +<p>Kyle was hiring for the Comas company—unabashed, blatantly. He strode +from man to man, banging heavy palm on shoulders. “Come with the real +folks. What’s old Eck Flagg to-day? You might as well be hired by a +bottle-sucking brat in a baby carriage. Where’s Latisan? You tell me his +men went downriver to meet him; they’ve kept on going. He has hid away, +dancing his doxy on his knee. Where’s your pay coming from when Eck +Flagg goes broke?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>Kyle waded in the shallows where men were rolling logs, shouting to be +heard above the roar of the waters.</p> + +<p>“We hired for a fight,” said the men who hated the Comas. “But it +doesn’t look like one is going to be made.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve always stood behind Eck Flagg,” said the old stand-bys of the +crew. “But we ain’t getting a square chance for honest work.”</p> + +<p>It was plain that the spirit was being beaten out of them under the +hammer of Kyle’s harangue—whether it was the adventurous spirit which +craved fight or the honest spirit which had sent them north to the job.</p> + +<p>When the night came down, after they had cleaned their pannikins of +food, steaming hot, from the cook’s kettles, while they smoked around +the fire which drove away the evening chill, Kyle paced to and fro among +the groups, declaiming, detracting, and urging. He knew that he was +prevailing, though slowly. Woodsmen in shifting their allegiance are not +swayed by sudden impulse. His voice rang among the trees in the silence +of the evening.</p> + +<p>“Latisan is a sneak—Latisan is a runaway! Eck Flagg is next to a dead +man!” Over and over he made those declarations, battering discouragement +into their slow comprehension in order to win them to the Comas company. +“And Latisan has thrown down real men for the sake of a girl! Do you +want to get the Big Laugh when you show yourselves downriver?”</p> + +<p>Voyagers who came from the southward, leaving their canoes below the +falls, moved silently, after the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>fashion of the Tarratines. They halted +on a shadowed slope within the range of Kyle’s raucous voice, and Lida +stepped forward to listen. The red flames lighted a circle among the +trees, and she beheld the seated groups and saw the swaggering +malcontent who paced to and fro.</p> + +<p>“I’m with the Three C’s now, first, last, and all the time! Their money +is waiting for you, men. Come, with the real folks, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>And again, with even more fantastic trimmings, he set forth the story of +Latisan’s flight with a girl who had seduced him from his duty in the +north.</p> + +<p>Lida snatched the Flagg cant dog from the hands of Felix; he had been +the bearer of her scepter. He blinked when he looked at her. The +far-flung light of the camp fire, reflected in her eyes, had set +veritable torches there. Her lips were apart and her white teeth were +clenched and her face was ridged with resolution.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the intention which righteous anger had stirred +in her, but when she started down the slope Felix leaped and ventured to +restrain her with a touch on her arm. “Is it well to let the Comas know +that you are here or what you are going to do? Pardon, mam’selle, but +think!”</p> + +<p>“The lies! The lies!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mam’selle, but you can tell them the truth when he is not there to +hear.”</p> + +<p>“But now he is there, and I cannot go to the men.”</p> + +<p>“In a little while you may go; he will not be there. And if he does not +know what is going on up here, after his back is turned, maybe we shall +have day after <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>day to push our logs in ahead of all the others,” +explained the riverman. “They will be days worth much.” Then with the +imagery of his race he added, “Those days will be gold beads on our +rosary, mam’selle!” He smiled into her eyes, from which the fires were +departing. “Please wait here with the the others.”</p> + +<p>He whispered to several of the Indians; when he sauntered down the slope +the four summoned Tarratines stole to right and left, masking themselves +in the shadows, flanking the champion who was going alone.</p> + +<p>Most of the men of the crew recognized Felix Lapierre when he walked +into the circle of light. They leaped up, surrounded him, their mouths +full of hilarious congratulation, of excuses why they had not attended +the wedding, of awkward jokes and questions. They could not understand +why he had come north so soon. He shook his head, mildly refusing to +satisfy their curiosity.</p> + +<p>Kyle stood for a time; then he resumed his pacing. He no longer had +listeners. Like children, the rivermen were wholly absorbed in a new +toy—a bridegroom who had so suddenly deserted the handsomest girl +between Adonia and The Forks.</p> + +<p>“Oh, let him alone,” advised Kyle, whetting his new grouch. “If they +ain’t running away <em>with</em> girls in this region, they’re running away +<em>from</em> ’em!”</p> + +<p>Felix swung around and faced the speaker. “Do you speak of me?” he +asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Take it that way if you want to.”</p> + +<p>“Your tongue seems to be very busy, I have that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>to say to you. From up +there on the hill I heard what you have to say about M’sieu Latisan, +that he has run away with a girl.”</p> + +<p>“And he has.”</p> + +<p>“You lie!”</p> + +<p>That retort snapped the trigger on Kyle’s inflamed temper. “You +damnation squaw man!” he yelped, and drove a blow at the French +Canadian; and Felix, following the fighting custom of his clan of the +Laurentian Valley, ducked low, leaped high, and kicked Kyle under the +hook of the jaw. It was the <em>coup à pied</em>. Kyle staggered and went down. +When he struggled up and weakly attacked again, the antagonist met him +face to face and smashed a stunning blow between Kyle’s eyes; he fell +and remained on his back.</p> + +<p>“One for me, and one for my wife he has insult’,” cried Felix. He spun +around, searching their faces. “Do any of you like to back him up?”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life,” said a spokesman. “He doesn’t belong in this crew.”</p> + +<p>“I’m much oblige’,” said Felix, politely. He whistled, and the four +Indians rushed out from the shadows. “If he is not of the crew, then if +he goes away it does not matter.”</p> + +<p>He commanded the Indians, and they lifted Kyle and started off with him.</p> + +<p>“He’ll not be hurt,” Felix assured the men of the crew. “He’ll go down +the river where it’s better for him.”</p> + +<p>Nobody offered protest. They were glad to be rid of that bellowing, +insistent voice of the trouble-maker.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>Their attention was wholly engaged with the involuntary departure of +Kyle, and they did not observe Lapierre when he walked away; they turned +to ask more questions, to be informed what this abduction signified, but +Felix was nowhere to be seen. Men called but he did not reply.</p> + +<p>Babble of comment and argument! It was a picked fight—anybody could see +that. Why should Lapierre come north in the Flagg interests? Lapierre +had never worked in a Flagg crew. It was begun so suddenly and was ended +so soon! A minute’s flash of drama against the background of the night, +into which they stared with searching eyes while they made clamor like +quacking ducks that had been startled from sleep by a prowler! Curiosity +was lashing them. They were wonted to their reckless adventure in the +white water; it had become dull toil. This affair was something real in +the way of excitement, with a mystery which tantalized them. Again they +called into the night, seeking an explanation.</p> + +<p>The prologue by which the Comas agent had been removed as tempter and +tale-bearer had not been staged by Felix for calculated effect; he had +thought only of getting Kyle out of the way. But never was an audience +in more keenly receptive mood for a sequel than were those men who +crowded closely in the patch of camp-fire radiance and asked questions +of one another.</p> + +<p>To them when they were in that mood came one who made the drama more +poignant. They were hushed, they blinked uncertainly, they found it +unreal, unbelievable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>For here was a girl, far north at the head of the drive in the season +of the roaring waters. She came slowly from the night and stood at the +edge of the circle of light. She was wearing Latisan’s jacket and +cap—there was no mistaking the colors, the checkings and the stripes; a +drive master needs to signal his whereabouts to a crew just as a fire +captain must make himself conspicuous by what he wears.</p> + +<p>They glanced at her garb, amazed by it. Then her face claimed all their +attention, for she said to them, her voice steady, her eyes meeting +theirs frankly, “I have overheard the talk a man has just made about a +girl who coaxed Ward Latisan away from his work here. I am the girl.”</p> + +<p>It seemed as if men had been holding their breath since her appearance; +in the profound silence the exhalations of that breath could be heard.</p> + +<p>“But Ward Latisan did not run away with me from his duty. My being here +answers that lie. And I have even a better answer—a reason why I would +be the last one in the world to interfere willingly with his work this +spring.” She stepped close to them, nearer the fire, so that they could +see what she held forth, tightly clutched in both hands. “This is +Echford Flagg’s cant dog—he told me it would be known by all his men. +He gave it into my keeping for a sign that he has sent me north. And I +have a right to carry it. I am Lida Kennard. I am Echford Flagg’s +granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>Behind her came crowding the Tarratines.</p> + +<p>“Men have deserted from your crew. Here are others to take their +places,” she announced with pride.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>She was dealing with men who were bashed by utter stupefaction; she +noted it and her self-reliance grew steadier. She drove the point of the +cant dog into the soft duff with a manner after the heart of Flagg +himself. She spread her freed hands to them in appeal. “I have come here +to tell you the truth.”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span><a name="twenty-three" id="twenty-three"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LATISAN had pitched the tune for that drive when he started it.</p> + +<p>It was a tune in quick tempo, with the staccato clangor of the kettle +drums of the dynamite when he burst the icy sheathing of the waters in +order to dump the first logs in.</p> + +<p>When he was on the job the directing wand of his pick pole kept +everything jumping.</p> + +<p>Even when he was away for a few days his men toiled with the spirit that +he had left with them. They had adopted his cause and shared his +righteous resentment against the tactics of the Three C’s.</p> + +<p>They were able to work on without his guidance, after a fashion, but for +the fight that was ahead of them down the river they had depended on his +captainship. Therefore, Kyle with his scandals and reports and his +urging had been in a way to break down their morale. When they +reflected, they realized it. And it had been a wicked thing to face—the +prospect that they might quit! With Latisan of the Latisans present with +them, pursuing an honest vengeance, there were lift and sweep and swing +which made their toil an adventure rather than plain drudgery.</p> + +<p>Then that day when rumor and Kyle and Latisan’s protracted absence had +nigh killed courage!</p> + +<p>But then, the inspiring night which had brought the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>granddaughter of +Echford Flagg with her story, her confession, her plea, and her still +strong faith in the awakening of Ward Latisan when he was able to know +the truth! She did not gloss her own involuntary fault; she was frank in +the statement that she loved the man whom she had harmed by her mistake. +She knew it was the truth; she took them into her confidence. Then there +was more than mere courage in the men of the drive—they were sharers in +the spirit of romance which put the dynamic zeal of fanatics behind +those logs. The girl’s cause was linked with Latisan’s and was a +compelling force.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Like racing horses the Flagg timber rushed along, crowding the river +from side to side.</p> + +<p>The stream drives, breaking the bonds of the ice, had caught the top +pitch of the floods and were hurled into the boiling rapids.</p> + +<p>But there was more than the mere thrust of the roaring waters behind +those tumbling logs.</p> + +<p>The Flagg drive had a soul that year!</p> + +<p>It was what the Comas corporation lacked.</p> + +<p>Behind the Flagg logs were honest men, pityingly loyal—still to +Latisan—and behind the toilers was a dominating spirit that was a +combination of courage, wild enthusiasm, loyalty, and devotion in a +campaign that now was entered upon with tempestuous fervor in the +presence of Lida Kennard. When that fervor went smashing against the +Three C’s crowd the men who were animated only by a corporation’s wages +became cowards and stepped aside and gave the champions the right of +way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>The slogan of Flagg men was, “Gangway for the girl!”</p> + +<p>They had taken up her cause; they had enrolled themselves with a perfect +abandon of all considerations of self; for them, getting down that +timber was merely a means to a much-desired end.</p> + +<p>They were recklessly determined to help the girl make good! That was the +urgeful sentiment which their thoughts inscribed on the invisible +oriflamme of the warfare that was waged for the new Joan along the +waters of the Noda.</p> + +<p>It was not especially because she was the granddaughter of Echford +Flagg. His wages had never bought more than perfunctory service from +crews. She was herself—and she had confessed her debts.</p> + +<p>When she told them why she was wearing Latisan’s cap and jacket, when +she owned to her error and laid the blame on herself, when she pleaded +with them to help her in undoing the bitter mischief, she won a devotion +that questioned nothing.</p> + +<p>“Men, he will come back. He will understand it all when he is himself +again. And if you and I are able to show him that we have done his work +well he will hold up his head once more as he has a right to do.”</p> + +<p>“God bless ye, girl, ye can’t keep yourself apart from Latisan in this +thing,” declared an old man. “It’s for the two o’ ye that we do our work +from now on! And it’s for all of us, as well! For we’ll ne’er draw happy +breaths till we can stand by and see you meet him on the level—eye to +eye—like one who has squared all accounts between you two! And the old +grands’r, as well. What say, boys?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>But cheers could not serve their emotions then. They pulled off their +caps and scrubbed their rough hands across their jackets and walked to +her in single file and shook her hand in pregnant silence.</p> + +<p>And then the timber went through; the drive was beating all the past +records.</p> + +<p>When they needed water they took it. They blew their own dams and were +very careless with dynamite when they came upon other dams of whose +ownership they were not so sure.</p> + +<p>“You see, miss, rights are well mixed up all through this region,” said +old Vittum, who had been spokesman for his fellows on her first meeting +with them. He gave her a demure wink. “The main idea is, God is making +this water run downhill just now, and it doesn’t seem right for mortal +man to stop it from running.”</p> + +<p>They “manned the river,” as the drivers say. That meant overlapping +crews, day and night.</p> + +<p>No squad was out of sight of another; a yell above the roar of the flood +or a cap brandished on the end of a pike pole summoned help to break a +forming jam or to card logs off ledges or to dislodge “jillpokes” which +had stabbed their ends into the soggy banks of the river. Men ate as +they ran and they slept as they could. Some of them, snatching time to +eat, sitting on the shore, went sound asleep after a few mouthfuls and +slumbered with their faces in their plates till a companion kicked them +back into wakefulness. They grinned and were up again!</p> + +<p>As for Lida Kennard, she was treated with as much tender care as if she +were a reigning princess <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>on tour. She protested indignantly because +they would not allow her to rough it along with them. They made soft +beds of spruce tips at their camping sites and they gave her the post of +honor in a big bateau.</p> + +<p>In the rush of affairs she did not pause to wonder whether she was +offending any of the proprieties by staying on with the drive; she had +become the Flagg spirit incarnate and was not troubling herself with +petty matters.</p> + +<p>Old Vittum and Felix were her advisers, and they prized her presence as +an asset of inestimable value; she allowed them to think for her in that +crisis.</p> + +<p>“It’s a tough life, miss, the best we can make it for you,” admitted +Vittum. “But if you can stick and hang till Skulltree is passed it means +that the boys will keep the glory of doing in ’em!”</p> + +<p>From rendering service according to her ability they could not prevent +her, though the men protested. She helped the cooks. Hurrying here and +there, following the scattered men of the crews, she tugged great cans +of hot coffee. When the toilers saw her coming and heard her voice they +took desperate chances on the white water, jousting with their pike +poles like knights in a tourney.</p> + +<p>She put into the hearts of the crew the passion of derring do!</p> + +<p>The drive that spring was not a sordid task—it was high emprise, it was +a joyous adventure!</p> + +<p>Then the logs which had raced in the rapids came to the upper reaches of +the slow deadwater of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>flowage of the Skulltree dam; the flowage +reached far back that year.</p> + +<p>At Skulltree was the crux of the situation, as Flagg had insisted, +ragefully.</p> + +<p>From the early days there had been a dam at that point; it was common +property and conserved the water to be loosed to drive logs over the +shallow rapids below.</p> + +<p>The Three C’s had spent more money on that dam, claiming that bigger +drives needed extra water. The dam had been raised. The flowage vastly +increased the extent of the deadwater, slowing the logs of the +independents, whose towage methods were crude. The changes which had +been made needed the sanction of impending legislation, required the +authority of a charter for which application had been made. In the +meantime the Three C’s were holding the water and would be impounding +logs; these logs were to be diverted through the new, artificial canal.</p> + +<p>In asserting their rights the corporation folks were endangering the +independent drives which were destined for the sawmills of the Noda.</p> + +<p>Day by day, as the drive went on, the girl listened to the talk among +her men until she understood, in some measure, the situation. All the +reckless haste was made of no account unless their logs were to be +permitted to pass the Skulltree dam.</p> + +<p>Vittum explained to her that the law was still considering the question +of “natural flowage.” The dam had been changed from time to time in past +years until the matter was in doubt.</p> + +<p>“But the way the thing stands now there ain’t much <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>of that nat’ral +flowage,” he told her. “I claim that we have the right to go through, +law or no law. Word was served early on Latisan that he must hold up at +Skulltree this year and wait for the law.”</p> + +<p>“Did he say what he proposed to do?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, miss! I’ll have to be excused from repeating what he said, in the +way he said it, but the gist of it was that he was going through. He +said he would use some kind of flowage, and hoped that when the lawyers +got done talking in court it would be decided that the aforesaid nat’ral +flowage was the kind that had been used by him.”</p> + +<p>She pulled off Ward’s cap and turned it about in her hand, surveying it +judiciously. “I can seem to see just how he looked when he said it.”</p> + +<p>“He said it loud, miss, because the man he was talking to was a good +ways off. He was a sheriff. He couldn’t get very nigh to Latisan. We was +holding the man off with our pick poles because he was trying to serve a +paper.”</p> + +<p>“An injunction?”</p> + +<p>”I don’t know,“ confessed the relator mildly. ”Somehow, none of us +seemed to be at all curious that day to find out what it was. Sheriff +nailed it to a tree and then somebody touched a match to it. Latisan +said he reckoned it must have been an invitation to Felix’s wedding, but +it was just as well that nobody ever read it, because the crew was too +busy to go, anyway!“</p> + +<p>“Are Comas men guarding Skulltree dam?”</p> + +<p>“They sure are, miss!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>She and the old man were seated on the shore of the deadwater. The +evening dusk was deepening.</p> + +<p>Near them the cook’s fires were leaping against the sides of the +blackened pots; in the pungent fragrance of the wood smoke which drifted +past there were savory odors which were sent forth when the cook lifted +off a cover to stir the stew. The peacefulness of the scene was +profound; that peace, contrasted with the prospect of what confronted +her men if Flagg’s logs were to go through, stirred acute distress in +the girl. Coming down through the riot of waters she had not had time to +think. Their logs were ahead; the laggards of the corporation drive were +following. She had wondered because even the cowards, as they had shown +themselves to be, had not put more obstructions in the way. There had +been abortive interference, but it was evident that the Three C’s had +been making the first skirmishes perfunctory affairs, depending on +dealing the big blow at Skulltree.</p> + +<p>In the Flagg crew it was a subject for frequent comment that Rufus Craig +had not appeared in the north country to take command of his forces in +those parlous times when the Three C’s interests were threatened. In +council Lida and her advisers began to wonder how much information +regarding the Flagg operations had filtered to the outside or whether +the defeated Comas bosses were not apprehensively withholding word to +headquarters that they had been beaten in the race on the upper waters.</p> + +<p>“Craig would be here before this if he knew what was going on,” averred +Vittum. “They’re either <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>ashamed or scared to send him word, and they +think it can all be squared for ’em at Skulltree.” He sighed and turned +his eyes from her anxious stare.</p> + +<p>Near her were rivermen who were waiting for their suppers. She was aware +of a very tender feeling toward those men who had been risking their +lives in the rapids in order to indulge her in a hope which she had made +known to them. She reflected on what the sarcastic Crowley had said when +he told her that in that region she was among he-men. “If you’re not +careful, you’ll start something you can’t stop,” he had threatened. +Could she stop these men from going on to violent battle? Would she be +honest with her grandfather and Latisan if she did try to prevent them +from winning their fight? All past efforts would be thrown away if +Skulltree dam were not won.</p> + +<p>Out on the deadwater were several floating platforms; the men called +them “headworks.” On the platforms were capstans. The headworks were +anchored far in advance of the drifting logs, around which were thrown +pocket booms; men trod in weary procession, circling the capstans, +pushing against long ashen bars, and the dripping tow warp hastened the +drift of the logs.</p> + +<p>As the men of the sea have a chantey when they heave at a capstan, so +these men of the river had their chorus; it floated to her over the +quiet flood.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="block">Come, all, and riffle the ledges! Come, all, and bust the jam!<br /> +And for aught o’ the bluff of the Comas gang we don’t give one good—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Hoot, toot and a hoorah!</span><br /> +We don’t give a tinker’s dam!</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>“That’s exactly how they feel, miss,” said the old man. “They’re on +their way. They can’t be stopped.”</p> + +<p>But the declaration depressed rather than cheered her. Those men had +taken up her cause valiantly and with single-hearted purpose, and she +was obliged to assume responsibility for what they had done and what +they would do to force the situation at Skulltree. In the rush of the +drive, with the logs running free, the river was open to all and +Latisan’s task was in the course of fulfillment and the Flagg fortunes +were having fair opportunity in the competition. But now competition +must become warfare, so it seemed. She shrank from that responsibility, +but she could not evade it—could not command those devoted men to stop +with the job half finished.</p> + +<p>The priest’s promise to find Latisan had been living with her, consoling +the hours of her waiting. Her load had become so heavy that her yearning +for Latisan’s return had become desperate and anguished.</p> + +<p>The slow drag of the logs in the deadwater gave her time for pondering +and she was afraid of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>She was not accusing Latisan of being an inexcusable recreant where duty +was concerned; she was understanding in better fashion the men and the +manners of the north country and she realized the full force of the +reasons for his flight and why the situation had overwhelmed him. Her +pity and remorse had been feeding her love.</p> + +<p>But the priest had promised. Latisan must know. Why did he not come to +her and lift the dreadful burden in her extremity?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>Old Vittum, sitting on a bleached trunk among the dry kye stranded on +the shore, plucked slowly the spills of a pine tassel, staring down +between his knees. “You’ve seen how they have worked, miss, for every +ounce that’s in ’em. But I don’t know how they’ll fight if they don’t +have a real captain—a single head to plan—the right man to lead off. +Latisan’s that! Half of ’em came north because they figured on him. I’ve +been hoping. But I’m sort of giving up.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to hear you say that,” she cried. “As soon as he knows the +truth he will come to us. Father Leroque promised to carry that truth to +him.”</p> + +<p>“Providing the priest can find him in the Tomah country—yes, you have +said that to me and I’ve been cal’lating to see Latisan come tearing +around a bend in the river most any minute ever since you told me. But +Miah Sprague, the fire warden, went through to-day. I’ve been hating to +report to you, miss, for I’m knowing to it how you feel these days; your +looks tell me, and I’m sorry. But Sprague has come from the Tomah and he +tells me that Ward Latisan hasn’t been home—hasn’t been heard from. +Nobody knows where he is. That is straight from Garry Latisan, because +Garry is starting a hue and a cry and asked Miah to comb the north +country for news.”</p> + +<p>She did not reply. She was not sure that there was a touch of rebuke in +the old man’s mournful tones, but she felt that any sort of reproach +would be justified. She had never made a calm analysis of the affair +between herself and Latisan, to determine what onus of the blame rested +on her and how much was due to the plots and the falsehoods of Crowley. +She <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>clung to her sense of fault in order to spur herself to make good; +that same sense, a heritage from a father, had served vicariously in +rousing her spirit to battle for her grandfather.</p> + +<p>“I hope you’re going to keep up your grit, miss,” urged Vittum. “We’ll +do our best for you—but I ain’t lotting much on Latisan’s showing up +again. It’s too bad! It’ll break his heart when he finds out at last +what he has been left out of and what a chance he has missed.”</p> + +<p>Like many another, she had, at times, dreamed vividly of falling from +great heights. That was her sensation then, awake, when she heard that +Ward Latisan was not to be found. Despair left her numb and quivering. +Till then she had not realized how greatly her hope and confidence in +his final coming had counted with her. She had not dared to think that +his anger would persist; it had seemed to be too violent to last. +However, it was plain that rage had overmastered the love he had +proclaimed. Lida was very much woman and felt the feminine conviction +that a lover would be able to find her if his heart were set on the +quest. There was only a flicker of a thought along that line; it was +mere irritation that was immediately swept away by her pity for him. She +was able to comprehend man’s talk then—she knew what Vittum meant when +he spoke of the chance that was missed—and she understood how Ward +Latisan would mourn if he heard too late what the struggle that year on +the Noda waters signified in the case of the girl for whom he had +professed love.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>She could not talk with the old man; she stumbled across the dry kye, +threw herself on her couch of boughs, and pressed her palms over her +ears to keep out the threat in the song of the men who toiled around and +around the capstan post, drawing the Flagg logs in their slow, +relentless passage to the scene of the promised conflict at Skulltree.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span><a name="twenty-four" id="twenty-four"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 3.5em;"> +<img src="images/quote.png" width="8" height="7" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="cap1">I’LL be cursed if I don’t think I ought to hire a real detective and +put him onto the inside affairs in this office,” was Chief Mern’s ireful +opinion after he had listened to Crowley and Miss Elsham when they +reported in from the north country. They were voluble in their own +behalf, but their talk was slippery, so the chief felt. They were also +voluble in regard to Lida Kennard, but Mern found himself more than ever +enmeshed in his guesswork about that mysterious young lady.</p> + +<p>Crowley kept shifting off the topic onto his own prowess, patting +himself on the breast and claiming all the credit for getting Latisan +off his job.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham, on her part, kept lighting fresh cigarettes and was +convincing on only one point: “No more wild men of the woods for me. +Never again in the tall timber. I’ll do night and day shifts in the +cafés if you ask me to. And I’ve got a knickerbocker suit that’s for +sale!”</p> + +<p>Mern had several interviews with the two, trying to understand.</p> + +<p>When the blustering Crowley was present Miss Elsham allowed him to claim +all the credit and made no protest.</p> + +<p>Alone with Mern, she declared that Buck was a big bluff, but she was not +especially clear in her reports on his methods.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>“But what has become of Kennard?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Lynched, maybe. They were threatening to do it to Buck +and me before we got away.”</p> + +<p>One thing seemed to be true—Mern had a wire from Brophy in reply to an +inquiry: Ward Latisan had gone away and was staying away.</p> + +<p>And Rufus Craig, arriving in the city, telephoned the same information +to the chief and promised to call around and settle.</p> + +<p>Crowley was informed of that confirmation, and grinned and again patted +his breast and claimed the credit.</p> + +<p>“All right,” allowed the chief, “you’re in for your slice of the fee. +But if you’re lying about Kennard I’ll make you suffer for deserting +her.”</p> + +<p>“I stand by what I have said. She was double-crossing us.”</p> + +<p>Later, Crowley began to inquire casually from time to time whether Miss +Kennard had sent in any word. He was not good at concealing his +thoughts, and he was manifestly worried by the prospect of possible +developments, but Mern was not able to pin him down to anything +specific. As a matter of fact, Crowley had not fathomed the mystery of +Miss Kennard’s actions in Adonia and was not in a way to do so by any +processes of his limited intelligence; he admitted as much to himself.</p> + +<p>He was clumsy in his efforts to extract from the chief something in +regard to the report which supposedly had been sent in by Miss Kennard, +and Mern’s suspicions were stirred afresh. He gave Crowley no +information on that point; one excellent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>reason why he did not do so +was this: Miss Kennard had not sent in any report. Mern was still +waiting to hear from her as to certain details; he wanted to talk with +her. Crowley ventured to state that she had left Adonia, and he +suggested that she was on the trail of Latisan. The operative, pressed +for reasons why she was still pursuing Latisan, if the drive master had +been separated from his job by Crowley, averred that, according to his +best judgment, the girl had gone crazy. That statement did not satisfy +Mern, but it enabled Crowley to avoid tripping too often over +inconsistencies.</p> + +<p>Under those circumstances the uneasy feeling persisted in Chief Mern +that the Latisan case was not finished, in spite of Craig’s compliments +and Crowley’s boasts and Miss Elsham’s bland agreement as to facts as +stated, though with avoidance of details.</p> + +<p>Mern usually shut down the cover on a case as soon as the point had been +won; he had found in too many instances that memory nagged; he had +assured Craig that having to do what a detective chief was called on to +do in his business had not given him the spirit of a buccaneer.</p> + +<p>But in this case the lack of candor in his operatives disturbed him, +though he did not presume to arraign them; he could not do that +consistently; in the interests of his peace of mind he had always +assured his workers that they need not trouble him with details after a +job had been done.</p> + +<p>Crowley, mystified, had said nothing about the amazing love affair. It +occurred to him that the protestations of Miss Kennard might have been a +part of her campaign of subtlety, interrupted by his smash<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>ing in; he +was more than ever convinced that his was not the kind of mind that +could deal with subtlety.</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham never mentioned Latisan’s apparent infatuation; she had been +sent north in the rôle of a charmer and did not propose to confess to +Mern that she had failed utterly to interest the woodsman.</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly the reticence of both of them was merciful; to heap this +crowning burden upon Chief Mern’s bewilderment in regard to the actions +of a trusted employee would have disqualified him mentally for other +cases which were coming along.</p> + +<p>Crowley loafed diligently at the Vose-Mern offices when he was not out +on duty; there was no knowing when he might be able to turn a trick for +the good of the concern by being on hand, he told himself, and for one +of his bovine nature all waiting around was easy and all stalls were +alike.</p> + +<p>Therefore, one day he was on hand to rush a quick tip to the chief. +Crowley turned his back on a caller who entered the main office; the +bulletin bearer hurried into Mern’s presence.</p> + +<p>“It’s the big boy from the bush—Latisan!”</p> + +<p>“Ugly?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t wait to see.”</p> + +<p>“You have told me straight, have you, about his being a bad actor when +he’s riled?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the real dope on him, Chief. Don’t let him in to see you—that’s +my advice.”</p> + +<p>Mern took a little time for thought, inspecting his operative narrowly.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t intending to butt in, you understand,” apologized Crowley, +reddening.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>“I think that’s good advice, speaking from the standpoint of prudence.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no good in hashing the thing over with him; he’s off the job +and I claim the credit <span class="nowrap">and——”</span></p> + +<p>“But from the standpoint of curiosity,” broke in Mern, relentlessly, +“I’ll be almighty glad to have a talk with him. I’ll probably get some +facts now. Shut up! If you have come back and told me all the truth I +wouldn’t be taking a chance with this man. You’re to blame! Remember +that another time. Beat it!” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a +door which enabled clients to leave without going back through the main +office.</p> + +<p>“A man named Latisan,” reported the door boy.</p> + +<p>“Tell him to come in.”</p> + +<p>Crowley turned the knob of the catch lock and dodged out into the +corridor.</p> + +<p>Mern stood up to receive the caller.</p> + +<p>He was not inspired by politeness. He was putting himself in an attitude +of defense and was depending on the brawn of a man who had been a tough +proposition when he swung his police club on a New York beat. He even +moved a chair which might get underfoot in a rough-and-tumble. But his +muscles relaxed when he looked at the man who entered.</p> + +<p>Latisan was deprecatory, if his manners were revealing his feelings. He +was apologetic in his mien before he spoke; he gave Mern the impression +of a man whose spirit was broken and whose estimate of himself had gone +far toward condemnation. And Mern read aright! The bitter dregs of days +and nights of doleful meditation were in Latisan—the memory of aimless +venturings into this or that corner <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>where he could hide away, the +latest memory of the stale little room in a cheap New York hotel +persisting most vividly in his shamed thoughts because he had penned +himself there day after day, trying to make up his mind to do this or +that—and, especially at the nadir of what he felt was his utter +degradation, had he dwelt on the plan of ending it all, and from time to +time had turned on a gas jet and sniffed at the evil fumes, wondering of +what sort would be death by that means. To think that he would descend +to that depth of cowardice! Nevertheless, he was not especially +surprised by this weakness, even while he hated himself for entertaining +such a base resolve. One after the other, right and left, the blows in +his business affairs had crashed down on him. He understood those +attacks, and he was still able to fight on. But the enemy that had +ambuscaded him behind the guise of the first honest love of his +experience had killed faith and pride and every tender emotion that +enables a man to fight the ordinary battles of life.</p> + +<p>Therefore, he ventured into the presence of Mern with down-hunched +shoulders under the sagging folds of a ready-made coat, bought from the +pile in an up-country village.</p> + +<p>“Well, what can I do for you, sir?” demanded Mern, relieved of +apprehension, seeing his advantage and more coldly curt than usual in +his dealings with men whom he could bully.</p> + +<p>“I had this address,” faltered Latisan; he pulled from his pocket a +sheet of paper which had been crumpled into a mass and then folded back +into its original creases. “I was thinking—I’ve been sort of +planning—I thought I’d come around <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>and ask <span class="nowrap">you——”</span> It was one of the +things, this errand, for which he had been trying to summon resolution +while he sat in the stuffy room, glancing up at the gas jet.</p> + +<p>Mern jerked away the paper, noting that its letterhead was his own. It +was his epistle to one “Miss Patsy Jones, Adonia,” demanding from her +information as to just what she was doing as an operative for the +Vose-Mern agency.</p> + +<p>“It’s about Miss Jones. I thought I’d step <span class="nowrap">in——”</span></p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Mern when Latisan paused.</p> + +<p>“That’s her real name, is it? I know how <span class="nowrap">detectives——”</span></p> + +<p>“It’s her real name,” stated Mern, of a mind to protect her until he was +convinced that she did not deserve protection by him.</p> + +<p>“She works for you?”</p> + +<p>“She does.”</p> + +<p>“Could I see her for a few minutes—for a few <span class="nowrap">words——”</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t think so,” hedged the chief. “Just why do you want to see Miss +Jones?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been thinking matters over. I did a terrible thing when I was sort +of out of my mind. She had something to say to me and I didn’t wait to +hear it. Perhaps I have made a mistake. Now I’d like to talk with her +and find out about something.”</p> + +<p>“Just what?” probed Mern.</p> + +<p>“I can’t say right now. It’s between us two, Miss Jones and myself—at +least I thought it was. I’m going to have a talk with her before I tell +anything to anybody else.” He declared that stubbornly.</p> + +<p>“How do I know what your scheme is? You’re <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>probably holding a grudge +against one of my operatives. I can’t turn her over to you to be +harmed.”</p> + +<p>Latisan straightened. “I shall not harm her by a word or a touch.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you hold a grudge against this agency, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“The Comas company—Craig, rather—hired you to do a thing, and it has +been done. Craig is the one with a grudge; it’s against me. I trigged +him. I reckon he has a right to get even, as he looks at it, if his +money can buy what you have to sell.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t like to do some of the things that are put up to us, Latisan. +But I may as well be out and open with you. Craig paid us a lot of money +when we broke the strike for him. We have to consider business. That’s +why we went ahead and got you, as we did. If you had been able to turn +around and get us, I would not have held any hard feelings. It’s all in +the game.” There was no especial sympathy in Mern’s tone; he was +treating a victim with a patronizing air.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I’m not up to tricks enough to play that game,” retorted +Latisan. “We’ll have to let it stand as it is. I’m sort of trying to +clear up my mind about the whole matter, so as to put it behind me. I +don’t want to feel that there’s any mistake about Miss Jones. That’s why +I’d like to see her once more.”</p> + +<p>He was showing nervous anxiety.</p> + +<p>It came to Mern that here was offered an opportunity to go even farther +with Latisan than the contract had demanded. Now that the man had been +pulled off the drive, a little shrewd maneuvering would hold him in New +York, away from the Flagg <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>interests, until the Comas folks could have +their way. No doubt Craig would consider that the extra service was an +acceptable bonus, over and above what the agency had done.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you.” Mern was affable. “Miss Jones is away on another case. +She is likely to report ’most any time. The best way for you is to drop +in each day, say around three o’clock in the afternoon. I think she will +be glad to explain anything you’re now puzzled about. You still think, +do you, you’d better not tell me?” The chief’s curiosity, his desire to +dig into the doings of his operatives, urged him to solicit Latisan +again. “My <span class="nowrap">advice——”</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t want it. I don’t take any stock in a man who does the kind of +work you’re up to,” declared Latisan, bluntly. “I don’t take much stock +in anybody, any more. I may be a fool for wanting to see that young lady +again—but I’ll call in to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“About three!” Mern reminded him, having an object in setting that hour.</p> + +<p>Latisan nodded and went away.</p> + +<p>The chief called the Comas corporation offices and got Director Craig on +the telephone. When Mern announced his identity, Craig evidently +supposed that it was a matter of a dun and broke in, chuckling: “I’ll +bring the check in to-morrow. I’d have done so, anyway, for I plan to +start north right away. What’s the matter, Mern? Grabbing for the coin +because you are afraid the job isn’t going to stay put?”</p> + +<p>“That isn’t the idea at all. I simply want to show you something which +will prove that the money has been well earned. I’ll show you Latisan.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>“I don’t care to meet that gentleman right now. Oh no!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll plant you where you won’t be seen. You can view Exhibit A. I think +I’ll be able to promise that Latisan is going to stay here in New York. +That ought to make you feel safer when you go back north into the +jungle. No tiger behind a tree!”</p> + +<p>“Say, I’ll hand you that check like daddy giving a stick of candy to the +baby!” said Craig with hearty emphasis. “I’ll own up that I have been +killing time here in the city, waiting to get a line on Latisan—where +he is. I have found that he’s a lunatic when he’s ugly—and there’s no +telling how far a grudge will drive a man in the big woods. So he’s here +in town?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I’m rigging hopples to keep him here, I tell you. Come in at +two forty-five. See the tame tiger!”</p> + +<p>Then Mern called in Crowley, who was very ill at ease, but was +obstinately and manifestly at bay. “Let’s see. Didn’t I understand you +to say, Buck, that Miss Kennard had gone chasing Latisan?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the way I figured it.”</p> + +<p>“You’re wrong. He’s chasing her. That’s why he came in here.”</p> + +<p>The chief had snarled, “You’re wrong,” in a peculiarly offensive tone. +Mr. Crowley, after his proclaimed success in the Latisan case, had come +up a number of notches in self-esteem and was inclined to dispute an +allegation that he was wrong in that matter or in anything else. He was +provoked into disclosures by sudden resentment. “She stood out there in +the public street and said she was in love <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>with him and would marry him +after the drive was down, and she grabbed up his cap and coat when he +ran away, and if it ain’t natural to suppose that she was going to chase +him up and hand ’em over, then what?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Crowley, what kind of a yarn is this?”</p> + +<p>“It’s true.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me before?”</p> + +<p>“It didn’t have anything to do with the case, as I was working it. It +was a side issue!” Crowley raised his voice, insisting on his own +prowess. “The idea was to get him off the job—and I did it. I +<span class="nowrap">claim——”</span></p> + +<p>“You infernal, damnation lunkhead, get out of my office till I calm +down,” raged the chief.</p> + +<p>He yelped at Crowley when the operative was at the door: “Go hunt up +Elsham and bring her here. It looks to me as if Kennard was foxier than +the dame I sent, and has turned the trick in her own way.”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t afraid of questions,” declared the operative. “They’ll only +bring out that I’m right when I claim the credit.”</p> + +<p>He hastened to shut the door behind him. Mern acted as if he were +looking for a missile.</p> + +<p>“But where is she? Why in the blue blazes doesn’t she report in?” +muttered the chief, worriment wrinkling his forehead. On the face of +things, it seemed that, valuable as Miss Kennard had been as +confidential secretary, she was still more valuable as a skillful +operative—and Chief Mern was earnestly desirous of having her back on +the job.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span><a name="twenty-five" id="twenty-five"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">CHIEF MERN’S interview with his two operatives the next forenoon did not +yield the solid facts he was after. They disputed each other. Miss +Elsham insisted that she had had Latisan on the run and claimed that his +apparent involvement with Miss Kennard was merely a silly and fleeting +flirtation with one whom he supposed was a table girl in a tavern.</p> + +<p>“You gave me his character, all written out,” insisted Miss Elsham. +“He’s that kind. He didn’t dare to presume with me as he would with a +girl in a dining room; but I was getting along all right till Crowley +butted in.” She turned spitefully on that monopolizer and meddler. “And +now don’t stand there and say again that you claim the credit. I’ll slap +your face!”</p> + +<p>Miss Elsham lied so strenuously that she was convincing.</p> + +<p>Crowley, trying hard to tell the truth for once, stammered and stumbled +over the amazing details of the lovemaking between Latisan and Miss +Kennard. The chief found the really veracious recital beyond belief.</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t offer to marry him, standing there in public,” stormed +Mern. “I know Kennard. She isn’t that sort. I’ll go to the bottom of +this thing, even if it means a trip for me to that God-forsaken tank +town. I’d give a thousand dollars to see Lida <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>Kennard walk in through +that door. I was never so worried about anything in all my life,” he +lamented. “Crowley, you deserted the most valuable person I have ever +had in my office—and God knows what has happened to her.” He sent them +away.</p> + +<p>“What does it get anybody to tell the truth?” grumbled Crowley.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, when it sounds so ridiculous as the truth in this case,” +averred Miss Elsham. “Everybody seems to go crazy up in the tall +timbers. Give me the tall buildings for mine after this.”</p> + +<p>In high good humor Rufus Craig appeared to Mern that afternoon a little +before three o’clock. He sat down, pulled out the slide leaf of Mern’s +desk, and produced a check book. “No need my seeing Exhibit A before +settling. Tell me the expense account. I’ll include everything in one +check.”</p> + +<p>With pen poised, waiting until the figures were brought in, the Comas +man expressed his satisfaction. “There were three on the job, so I was +told in Adonia when I came through. That’s all right, Mern. I expected +you to use your own judgment. I didn’t have much time in Adonia—grabbed +what information I could while waiting for the train to start—but it’s +a sure bet that Latisan is off for good. From what I heard it was your +Miss Jones who really put it over—gave Latisan what they call up there +the Big Laugh. Now who the blazes is this Miss Jones?”</p> + +<p>“An operative of ours,” the chief replied, with repression of enthusiasm +decidedly in contrast with Craig’s indorsement of her. Mern did not dare +to be other than vague, leaving Lida Kennard’s identity <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>concealed until +he could understand something about the inside affairs in his agency. +The reflection that he was still in the dark—could not talk out to a +client as a detective should—was stirring his sour indignation more and +more.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to meet her,” urged the director. “She must be a wonder. A +great actress, I should judge, from what I was told in Adonia.”</p> + +<p>“She’s having her vacation just now.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mern! I’m going to stick a couple of hundred more onto this +check. Send it along to her and tell her to have an extra week or a new +dress at my expense. I’ve made a side-line clean-up on the Tomah this +season and money is easy with me.” That was as explicit as Craig cared +to be in regard to the deal with the Walpole heir. Still poising his +pen, the director turned expectant gaze on the door when the knob was +turned; a flurried, fat girl whose manner showed that she was new to the +place had received Mern’s orders about the figures; now she came +bringing them.</p> + +<p>Craig frowned while he wrote the check after the girl had retired.</p> + +<p>He was a bit pettish when he snapped his check book shut. “Say, Mern, I +always like to see that Kennard girl when I come into your office. I +like her looks. I like the way she puts out her hand to a man.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry she isn’t here. But she’s—she’s out—sick.”</p> + +<p>“Good gad! I hope it’s nothing serious.” Craig showed real concern.</p> + +<p>“Oh no! Just a—a rather severe cold.” The chief <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>was having hard work +to conceal his mental state—being obliged to lie that way, like a fool, +in order to hide the mystery in his own office!</p> + +<p>“Give me her street number. I’ll send up a bunch of flowers.”</p> + +<p>“She is out with some friends in the country to get clean air. I don’t +know the address.”</p> + +<p>Mern perceived that more questions were coming. Craig was frankly +revealing his interest in Miss Kennard.</p> + +<p>The chief pulled out his watch; he had a good excuse for changing an +embarrassing subject. “Latisan is about due. Of course, you don’t want +to be seen. I’ll post you in one of the side consulting rooms.”</p> + +<p>“It seems rather silly, this spying,” remonstrated Craig. “I’m taking +your word about Latisan. I’m getting ready to start north, and have a +lot of matters to look after.”</p> + +<p>“Humor my notion,” urged the chief. “He has been tamed down and I want +you to see him. You’ll understand why I believe I can keep him hanging +around here till you have nailed things to the cross up-country.”</p> + +<p>Craig showed no alacrity, but he allowed Mern to lead him to a small +room that was separated from the main office by a ground-glass +partition; there was a peephole at one corner of a panel. The director +promised to wait there until the interview with Latisan was over. The +chief said he would make it short.</p> + +<p>Latisan walked in exactly on the stroke of three; after he came up in +the elevator he had waited in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>corridor, humbly obedient to Mern’s +directions as to the hour.</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing in that matter to-day, Latisan,” stated the chief, +affecting to be busily engaged with papers on his desk. “Try me +to-morrow, same time.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir,” agreed the young man, somberly. In prospect, another +twenty-four hours filled with lagging minutes! He had grown to know the +hideous torture of such hours in the case of a man who before-time had +found the days too short for his needs.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” said Mern, still hanging grimly to the desire to find out +more about what the matter was with the office’s internal affairs, “did +anybody tell you that Miss Jones had returned to New York?”</p> + +<p>“I wired to Brophy a few days ago. He said she had come back here, +according to what he knew of her movements.”</p> + +<p>“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” The chief’s tone was crisp with +the vigor of third-degree abruptness.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” admitted Latisan, showing no resentment; he had promulgated that +fact widely enough in the north.</p> + +<p>“Just why did she urge you so strongly to go back to the drive?” The +young man’s meekness had drawn the overeager chief along to an +incautious question.</p> + +<p>“You ought to know better than I, sir. I take it that she was obeying +your orders about how to work the trick on me, though it isn’t clear in +my mind as yet; but I’m not a detective.”</p> + +<p>“Did she promise to marry you as soon as the Flagg drive was down?” +Still Mern was boldly taking advantage of the young man’s docility.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>“That’s true. I must admit it because it was said in public.”</p> + +<p>Mern scratched his ear. The thing was clearing somewhat in Crowley’s +direction; the blunderer had not lied on one point at least—the point +that Mern found most blindly puzzling. What in the mischief had happened +to the nature of Lida Kennard, as Mern knew that nature, so he thought!</p> + +<p>“You remember Operative Crowley, do you?”</p> + +<p>“Naturally.”</p> + +<p>“Are you holding an especial grudge against him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why I should, sir. It’s a dirty business he’s in, but he +gave me that letter which I turned over to you yesterday, and for some +reason he exposed the trick that was being put upon me by the girl. If I +can get at the bottom of the thing, for my own peace of mind, I’ll be +glad.”</p> + +<p>Chief Mern sympathized with that sentiment!</p> + +<p>Then he took a little time for reflection. Perhaps a meeting between +Latisan and Crowley might strike a few sparks to illuminate a situation +that was very much in the dark.</p> + +<p>“If Crowley is around the office I’m going to ask him to step in here. +The talk will be all friendly, I take it?”</p> + +<p>“I have nothing against Crowley, as matters stand.”</p> + +<p>Latisan did not greet Crowley when the operative replied to the summons +and walked into the private office; on the other hand, Latisan showed no +animosity. He merely surveyed Crowley with an expression of mingled pity +and wonderment, as if he were sorry for an able-bodied man who earned a +living by the means which the operative employed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>Crowley, at first, was not as serene as the man whom he had injured.</p> + +<p>“Latisan tells me that he holds no grudge,” stated Mern, encouragingly.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad of that, Latisan. We have to play the game in this business. +And I’m not laying it up against you, how you made a monkey of me in +that dining room and nigh twisted my head off. Both of us know now who +it was that rubbed our ears and sicked us at each other.”</p> + +<p>The victim of the operations nodded, no especial emotion visible in his +countenance.</p> + +<p>“Right here between us three I’ll come out all frank and free,” +continued Crowley. “I’m making a claim to the chief in this thing, +Latisan, and I believe you’ll back me up. She jumped in on me and +Elsham—one day later from the agency than we were—and she wouldn’t +talk to me, and I’ll admit I didn’t have her play sized from the start. +But she wasn’t the one that turned the trick.” Mr. Crowley was venturing +rather far with the victim, but he was encouraged by Latisan’s continued +mildness and by a firm determination to set himself right with Mern, who +had been doubting his efficiency.</p> + +<p>“As I have been looking at it, she was the one who did it,” insisted the +young man.</p> + +<p>“Now see here! Wake up!” Crowley was blustering as he grew bolder. “You +were letting the girl wind you around her finger. What woke you up? What +made you sore on the whole proposition up there? It was my tip to you! +You can’t deny it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it might have been your tip,” admitted Lat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>isan, knotting his +brows, staring at the floor, confused in his memories and puzzling over +the mystery. “I had promised to bring down the logs because she asked me +to keep on and do it.”</p> + +<p>“There you have it!” indorsed Crowley, swinging his arm and flattening +his thick palm in front of the chief. “I claim the credit.”</p> + +<p>Crowley had become defiantly intrepid, facing that manner of man who was +so manifestly cowed and muddled. The operative was back in his +encouraging environment of the city; he remembered the thrust of those +prongs of fingers on his head when he was obliged to dissemble and was +shamed in the north country. He was holding his grudge. And he was +assiduously backing up the claims he had made to his chief. “The girl +you’re talking about had nothing to do with pulling you off the job. She +was double-crossing our agency.”</p> + +<p>“Think so?” queried Latisan.</p> + +<p>“I know it. But I don’t know what fool notion got into her up there. I +have told Mr. Mern all about it. I’m the boy who woke you up!”</p> + +<p>“Do you agree, Latisan?” asked Mern, brusquely.</p> + +<p>“I’m not thinking clearly, sir. But if this man is right, I ought to +apologize to her.”</p> + +<p>“She is no longer employed by us, but we’ll try to locate her.” Mern was +willing to come out in front of Crowley with that information; the +situation did seem to have cleared up! “Hang around town. Come in +again.”</p> + +<p>Latisan dragged himself up from his chair.</p> + +<p>Then Crowley of the single-track mind—bull-headed blunderer—went on to +his undoing. “I’m sorry it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>has come about that you’ve got to fire her, +Chief. I know what a lot she was worth to you here, as long as she kept +to her own job.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll let it rest,” said Mern, warningly. He remembered that he had not +posted Crowley on the fact that the sobriquet “Miss Patsy Jones” still +hid the identity of the girl where Latisan was concerned.</p> + +<p>“All right! That suits me, Chief, so long as I get the credit. I’ll shut +up, saying only that I’m sorry for Miss Lida Kennard.”</p> + +<p>Latisan had been moving slowly toward the door, aware that the +conversation between the two pertained to their own affairs and that he +was excluded.</p> + +<p>He halted and swung around when he heard the name of Lida Kennard. The +torpor of idleness and woeful ponderings had numbed his wits. The name +of Lida seemed to have been dragged into the affair by Crowley. Ward did +not understand how she could be involved in the matter. He put that +thought into a question which he stammered.</p> + +<p>Mern, knowing nothing about his secretary’s lineage, resenting her +secrecy and methods which he had not been able to penetrate, was not in +a mood to shield her any longer. “It’s the same girl, Latisan. She +called herself Jones up your way. Her right name is Lida Kennard.”</p> + +<p>Latisan blinked like one who had emerged from darkness into blazing +light. He swayed slowly, breasting that deluge of the truth which +suddenly swept through him.</p> + +<p>He walked to the window, turning his back on them, and gazed squarely +into the quivering sun that was westering between lofty buildings. His +eyes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>were enduring the unveiled sun with more fortitude than his soul +endured the truth which had just been unveiled.</p> + +<p>This—this was the heart of the mystery!</p> + +<p>He was not meditating while he stood there; he was beholding!</p> + +<p>He saw in the white light the spirit of her sacrifice—a sacrifice which +embraced even her submission to him; in his desolate denial of any +worthy attributes in himself he was not admitting that she loved him. He +realized what she had sought to achieve in the north country, why she +could not declare herself. And he had allowed a trick to make a fool of +him, make him a traitor to her, send him off, sneaking in byways, idling +in dark corners, in the time of her most desperate need!</p> + +<p>Right then there was in him the awful conviction that he could not go +and face her, wherever she was, so utterly a renegade had he shown +himself.</p> + +<p>He was taking all the blame on himself. He had run away from a laugh—a +fool obsessed by a silly notion of the north country—in this new light +it seemed silly. He had not waited like a man to hear the truth from +her! He had betrayed all the cause; he could not go back to the drive.</p> + +<p>He had listened to a lying sneak from a detective agency and had +rebuffed, insulted, abused horribly Lida Kennard! Lida Kennard! The name +seemed to be hammering at his eardrums. The granddaughter of Echford +Flagg! A lone girl trying to save a cause! In her anguished desperation +she had been willing to give herself in the way of sacrifice even to +such a recreant as Ward Latisan must have appeared in his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>boyish and +selfish resentment! Oh, the sun was cool in comparison with the fires +which raged in him.</p> + +<p>The fatuous Crowley moved toward the window. “Well, what say, old boy?”</p> + +<p>When the young man turned slowly the operative stuck out his hand. “I’m +agreeing with you—no grudges! Let’s shake!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you did it,” said Latisan. He did not raise his voice. He was +talking as much to himself as to Crowley. “A tip to me, you called it.”</p> + +<p>“We have to do those things to get quick results,” Crowley agreed, +patronizingly. “Give us your hand, boy!”</p> + +<p>Crowley got what he asked for. He was not prepared for the amazing +suddenness of the open-handed blow that fell on the side of his head and +sent him staggering into a corner.</p> + +<p>Mern grabbed up the telephone. Latisan leaped and tore the instrument +from the chief’s grasp, ripped it loose from its fastenings, and hurled +it through the ground-glass door.</p> + +<p>Mern was a big man; he had been invincible as a police officer. But when +he leaped and struck at Latisan, the latter countered with his +toil-hardened fist and knocked Mern down. Crowley had also served with +the police. But he was no match for the berserker rage which had +transformed the man from the woods. Latisan whirled again to Crowley, +beat him to his knees, set his foot against the antagonist’s breast and +drove him violently backward, and he fell across Mern.</p> + +<p>But Latisan was not through. Men who had viewed John Latisan in the old +days when he came <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>roaring down to town, had they been present in the +Vose-Mern offices that day, would have recognized in the grandson the +Latisan temperament operating in its old form and would not have been +surprised. The avenger picked up Mern’s desk chair. He swung it about +him, smashing everything in the room which could be smashed. He flung +away the fragments of the chair and rushed into the outer office.</p> + +<p>The fat girl was calling for central, for police.</p> + +<p>“Hand it over!” he commanded. “And you’d all better step outside,” he +suggested, after he had torn loose the wires. “I’m using the office +right now.”</p> + +<p>He picked up the chair from which she fled. It was heavy and he used it +to smash other furniture. Then he began to beat out the glass which shut +off the other private rooms which adjoined the main office. In that +process he brought the terrified Craig into view. He dropped the chair, +reached in, and dragged Craig over the sill of the compartment. “This +has been coming to you on the Noda waters! I’m glad you’re here now to +get it!” He held the Three C’s director helpless in utter dismay, at the +full length of a left arm, and pummeled him senseless with a right fist. +Then he dragged him to the door of the chief’s office and flung him +across the two men who were stirring.</p> + +<p>“It’s a fifty-fifty wreck—this office and me—pretty nigh total!”</p> + +<p>He walked out. Youth, strength, and an incentive which did not animate +the others, had enabled him to prevail.</p> + +<p>Mern and Crowley struggled weakly from under the man who was pinning +them down.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>“I’ll get word to the cops,” stuttered Crowley, holding his hand to his +battered and bleeding lips.</p> + +<p>“Wait till Craig comes to!” protested Mern. “He may want us to hush the +thing. He has been hollering for soft pedal all the time. He seems bad! +Get a doctor!”</p> + +<p>The physician who came confirmed Mern’s opinion as to the condition of +the field director; Craig himself was querulously emphatic on the point +when he had been brought to consciousness. But he insisted on postponing +consideration of the proper action to take in Latisan’s case until he +had time to forget his aches and compose his thoughts.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span><a name="twenty-six" id="twenty-six"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</h2> + + +<p class="cap">EARLY the next morning glaziers, carpenters, and telephone repair men +monopolized the Vose-Mern offices to the exclusion of regular business. +The chief had told his office force to stay away for the day.</p> + +<p>He had found one chair that was whole, and he sat and watched the “after +the storm” effect gradually disappear.</p> + +<p>Mern’s thoughts were as much in disorder as the interior he was +surveying.</p> + +<p>Instead of feeling lively enmity in the case of Latisan, he was +admitting to himself that he rather admired the young wildcat from the +woods. At any rate, Latisan had accepted at face value Mern’s repeated +dictum that if the other fellow could get Mern while Mern was set on +getting the fellow, there would be no grudges. Latisan’s come-back, the +chief reflected, was crude work, but it was characteristically after the +style of the men of the open; and the wreck of an office was less +disastrous than the wreck of a man’s prospects and his very soul. Mern +was not a bit of a sentimentalist, but he could see the situation +vaguely from Latisan’s standpoint. And he realized that there was still +something behind it all which he had not come at.</p> + +<p>He was roused from his ponderings by the crunch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>ing of feet on broken +glass, and looked up and beheld Latisan. Halted just inside the door of +the main office was a policeman in uniform. And the officer, well known +by Mern, caught the chief’s eye and winked.</p> + +<p>Mern jumped to his feet; he was much astonished and glanced to see +whether Latisan’s fists were doubled.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, sir!” said the caller, politely. “I have come around +early to let you know that I’m not the kind of a man who does a thing +and runs away from the responsibility of it.”</p> + +<p>With prolonged scrutiny—stares which crossed like fencing blades—the +two principals mutely questioned each other. Latisan displayed the most +composure. He had not the same reason as had Mern to be surprised; it +was immediately made plain that Latisan had devoted some thought to +preparations for the interview. He stepped closer. Even though his smile +seemed to be meant as an assurance of amity, Mern flinched; he +remembered that the woodsman had begun the battle the day before after a +remark in a most placid tone.</p> + +<p>Latisan tipped his head to indicate the waiting policeman. “I brought +him along. I asked him to come up from the street. He doesn’t know what +for.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I, either!” blurted Mern.</p> + +<p>“I thought you might want me arrested on sight, and I remember what I +did to your telephones, and I figured I’d save you the trouble of +sending out.”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the drive master’s new <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>mood. He was polite; he +was contrite. The picturesque touch furnished by supplying a policeman +suggested the Vose-Mern “anticipatory system” and appealed to the +chief’s grim sense of humor. Also, Mern was moved by that consciousness +which warms real men, when it’s a mutual acknowledgment, “He’s a good +sport.”</p> + +<p>Mern waved his hand to the policeman, putting into that gesture a +meaning which the officer understood; the officer started for the outer +door.</p> + +<p>“Just a second!” called Latisan. He pulled out a roll of money and gave +the policeman a bill. “You can use that to pay your fare down in the +elevator.”</p> + +<p>Latisan held the roll in sight until he and Mern were alone. “While the +cash is out, I may as well inquire what the bill is.”</p> + +<p>“For what?”</p> + +<p>“For this.” The woodsman swung the hand which held the money, making a +wide sweep to take in all the wreck.</p> + +<p>“No bill, Latisan! You can’t pay a cent. I think we’ll call it natural +wear and tear in the course of business.”</p> + +<p>The chief was sitting in the chair which had escaped damage. He insisted +on the caller taking that chair; Mern sat on a carpenter’s sawhorse.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I had you going yesterday, Chief Mern, but to-day it’s you who +have got me going!” admitted Latisan, frankly mystified by this +forbearance.</p> + +<p>“I’m only backing up the talk I have always made about giving the other +fellow his innings if he wants to take ’em and has the grit to put it +over. Look <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>here, Latisan, two men are never really well acquainted till +they’ve had a good run-in with their fists. You and I have been standing +each other off on facts. Let’s get down to cases. How did it happen that +you fell for Lida Kennard so suddenly?”</p> + +<p>Ward flushed. It was a sacred subject, but he resolved to be frank with +Mern, searching for the truth. “It was not sudden. I met her here in the +city by accident months ago—and I must have fallen in love with her +then. I’ve been admitting that I did, though I did not know her real +name till yesterday. And I did not know she was a detective, set on my +trail. And even <span class="nowrap">now——”</span></p> + +<p>“You don’t believe it, eh? Let me say it to you, Latisan—and get me +right! You’re a square chap and I can afford to be square, now that the +job is done and paid for. The girl never was an operative. She was my +confidential secretary, and the best one I ever had. Working hard here +to pay up the debts she had incurred on account of her mother. As clean +as a whistle, Latisan! She never told me she was going north. That +letter you brought is one I wrote after Crowley reported that she was +there—and I wanted to know why she was there.”</p> + +<p>“I can tell you why. She is Echford Flagg’s granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>Mern leaped up and kicked the carpenter’s bench away from him. Latisan +rose, too, as if prepared to resent any detracting speech.</p> + +<p>“Don’t trouble yourself,” snapped Mern. “I’m not saying a word against +her for what she was doing up there. I trained her myself in what she +called the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>ethics of this business, and she had been practicing what I +have preached. It’s all right, Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“The thing cleared itself up pretty quickly for me yesterday when I +found out her name. But now that I know who she is I’m in hell. I ran +away! I have left that <span class="nowrap">drive——”</span></p> + +<p>“Aw, to blazes with your drive!” yelped Mern, with scorn. “Only logs! +But what I want to know is this, does the girl love you?”</p> + +<p>“She told me so, but how can she have any affection for such a man as I +have shown myself to be? I think she was sacrificing herself because she +believed I was the one who could bring down the Flagg drive.”</p> + +<p>Mern surveyed him cynically. “Say, Latisan, I hope you’re not the kind +who would bite a gold coin stolen from a dead man’s eye. You woods +fellows have too much time for joint debates with your own selves. Go +find that girl and square yourself. I want her to have what she wants, +if she is in love with you. That’s the kind of a friend I am to her. I +can’t tell you where she is. I haven’t heard from her since she walked +out of this office. But let me say something to you! My kind of work has +wised me up to what folks are likely to do! I’ll bet a thousand dollars +the girl hasn’t run very far away from the north country, even if you +did think it was too hot to hold you.”</p> + +<p>Latisan shook his head slowly. Confidence was still chilled in him; the +memory of what had happened was a forbidding barrier; in her case, at +the thought of thrusting himself back into her presence, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>he was as +timid to an extreme as he had been fearless in his dealings with men in +the Vose-Mern offices.</p> + +<p>While he was wrestling with his thoughts, delivery men were wrestling +with furniture, bringing it in through the door from the corridor, +blocking the passage.</p> + +<p>Mern snapped his attention from Latisan, then he pushed the latter out +of the range of vision from the corridor door.</p> + +<p>Craig was out in the corridor, cursing the furniture and the men who +were obstructing the doorway. Craig was in a hurry and in a state of +mind; his language revealed his feelings.</p> + +<p>“It won’t do—it won’t do!” insisted Mern when Latisan protested at +being shoved behind the partition. “He mustn’t see you. Hear him rave! +I’m not staging another fight to-day. Stay in there! Crouch down! Keep +out of sight.”</p> + +<p>When Craig won his way past the blocking furniture he stormed to Mern, +stamping across the glass-strewn floor, shaking his fists and jabbering.</p> + +<p>He was in a horrible state of rage. His face was so apoplectically +purple that the bruises on his patched-up countenance were subdued +somewhat by lack of contrast.</p> + +<p>“Look at me! Called down to the home office just now, looking like this. +Lying like blazes about an automobile accident! That’s what your +invitation to view the tame tiger has done for me. But that isn’t what +I’m here for, you damnation, four-flushing double-crosser.” He continued +to berate the chief.</p> + +<p>“Say, you hold on there!” barked Mern, managing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>a few oaths of his own +after struggling out of the amazement stirred by this ferocious attack. +“If you’re here to do business or to complain about the business that +has been done, you’ll have to be decent, or I’ll run you out.” Mern +jutted his jaw and took two steps in Craig’s direction—and Craig had +suffered violence too recently to persist in inviting more.</p> + +<p>But he was still as acrimonious as he dared to be. Behind his rage there +was the bitterness of a man who had been tricked out of money—betrayed +shamefully—but Craig was so precipitate, breathless, violent, so +provokingly vague with his tumbling words and his broken sentences, that +Mern ceased to be angry in return and was merely bewildered.</p> + +<p>The Comas field director shook under Mern’s nose a sheet of paper. He +kept referring to the writing on the paper and vouchsafed information +that the writing was made up of notes of a long-distance conversation +between the woods and the New York offices of the Comas company.</p> + +<p>After a time Mern suggested with acerbity that Craig was incoherent.</p> + +<p>“I don’t doubt it. I feel that way,” yelped Craig. “But this message has +come over three or four hundred miles of wire—relayed, at that, and I +think the man who started the word from a fire-outpost station wasn’t +entirely right in his head. There’s no other way of accounting for the +statement that Ward Latisan’s cap and Eck Flagg’s cant dog are bossing +the Flagg drive.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get wrought up by crazy guff!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>“But here are some statements that I <em>am</em> wrought up over,” declared +the director, brandishing the paper. “I’ve got to believe ’em. They +sound straight. Three of our new hold dams in streams that feed the Noda +have been blown. The water has been used to sweep the Flagg logs in +ahead of ours. The lip of the Tougas Lake has been blown, too, and if we +lose that water it’s apt to leave us high and dry; our Tougas operation +is a long way in from the main river. They’ve shot blue blazes out of +Carron Gorge and have taken the water along with ’em. Merry hell is to +pay all up and down that river, Mern.”</p> + +<p>The agency chief did not relish Craig’s bellicose manner, nor the glare +in his one eye that showed, nor the imputation of vindictive rebuke in +his rasping tones.</p> + +<p>“Craig, I never saw a log in a river. I know nothing about your drives. +Why are you pitching into me?”</p> + +<p>“Why? Why? Because this message says that the girl you sent north—the +girl who was paid by our money—this report says that she has gone up +there and has put the very devil into Flagg’s men; is making ’em do +things that the worst pirates on the river never dared to do before. +What kind of a she wildcat did you hand me, anyway? Mern, a thousand +tons of liquid fire poured into the valley of the Noda couldn’t hurt us +like that girl is hurting us. Who is she? What is she? Get your word to +her! Call her off!”</p> + +<p>That was no time for equivocation. Craig’s frenzy demanded candor and +threatened reprisal if the truth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>were not forthcoming. Mern told part +of the truth.</p> + +<p>“She has called her own self off, Craig, so far as this agency is +concerned. I have no further control over her actions.”</p> + +<p>Chief Mern was not conscious of any especial surprise after Craig had +reported that section of his news which could be understood. The +granddaughter of Flagg could not be expected to do other than she was +doing. In his honest regard for the helper who had served him so long +and efficiently, the chief was wondering whether he ought to reveal her +identity to the Comas man, trying to estimate the danger of such a +revelation. Craig was not stating that his news hinted who she was.</p> + +<p>As to the details of the drive, he was more explicit. He raged on while +Mern pondered. “The Flagg drive is a week ahead of time. It must be near +Skulltree dam. I ought to have been up there and I don’t understand why +the infernal fools have been so slow in getting word to me.”</p> + +<p>He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mern, I never ought to do another stroke of business with +you, but I’m in too much of a hurry to go anywhere else.”</p> + +<p>The business instincts of the head of the agency were stirred; the Comas +money had been good picking in the past. “I don’t think I should be held +responsible for an operative who has severed connections. Craig, you +have probably made your own mistakes in depending on helpers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>“Don’t you make any mistake this time, Mern! I want a dozen or fifteen +men—gunmen. Can you furnish ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Sure thing! Within an hour.”</p> + +<p>“I have promised results to my folks this season. I’ve got to deliver. +My job depends on it, after all the talk I’ve made at headquarters.”</p> + +<p>“Will your headquarters back up my operatives?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that! I’m playing this game on my own hook. There’ll be no +fight. The bluff will be enough, if I have the men. And if I have +to—well, there’s a fight between lumberjacks every season on that +river, and there’s a big wall of woods between Skulltree dam and New +York, Mern! I’ll take my chances up behind that wall. Get the men for +me.”</p> + +<p>“When are you leaving?”</p> + +<p>“One o’clock this afternoon—Grand Central.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll deliver the men to you there.”</p> + +<p>Craig stamped away across the glass-littered floor and disappeared.</p> + +<p>“Well,” averred the chief when Latisan came out from behind the +partition, “it looks as if somebody had been attending to your job for +you, son! Also looks as if there might be considerable more doing right +away!”</p> + +<p>“So that’s more of your devilish business, is it, sending gunmen to +fight honest workers?” demanded the drive master, with venom.</p> + +<p>“Business is still business with me in spite of the looks of this +office,” returned Mern, unruffled. “Latisan, you can’t beef about not +getting a square deal—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>and I’ve put you in the way of getting a tip. It +looks to <span class="nowrap">me——”</span></p> + +<p>“Just the same as it looks to me!” cried the young man. “We’re fully +agreed as to all the looks! Good day!”</p> + +<p>He stood very straight and shot Mern through with a stare from hard gray +eyes. There was no longer any of the faltering uncertainty that he had +displayed. Grim determination radiated from him.</p> + +<p>“Good day to you, also!” Mern called after Latisan when he strode toward +the door, then adding suggestively. “If any mail happens to come here +for you, I’m to forward it along to that Skulltree dam, so I take it!”</p> + +<p>The irony did not provoke any retort from the drive master. He went away +with a rush, but his demeanor showed that he was not running away from +anything or anybody. He was hastening toward something.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span><a name="twenty-seven" id="twenty-seven"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</h2> + + +<p class="cap">LATISAN was on that one o’clock train when it left Grand Central +station.</p> + +<p>From the gallery of the concourse he had seen Craig march to the gate +and give a packet into the hands of one of a group of men waiting there. +Then Craig had gone on quickly with the air of a cautious performer who +did not care to be identified with the persons for whom he had provided +transportation.</p> + +<p>The drive master rode in a coach and felt safe from detection; he +guessed that Craig would hide his battered face in the privacy of a +drawing room. Latisan had trailed the operatives and saw them enter the +smoking car.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon, at a stage in the journey, he crossed a city on +the heels of the party and again was an unobtrusive passenger in a +coach, avoiding the sleeping cars. He slept a bit, as best he could, but +mostly he pondered, fiercely awake, bitterly resolute. He fought away +his memory of the betrayal of a trust; he indulged in no fond hopes in +regard to one whom he now knew as Lida Kennard. He was concentrating on +his determination to go back to the drive, not as master, but as a +volunteer who would carry his cant dog with the rest of them, as humble +as the plainest toiler. He did not try at that time to plan a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>course of +action to be followed after he was back on the Flagg drive. He was +going, that was all!</p> + +<p>It was a hideous threat, the menace that Craig was conveying into the +north country in the persons of those gunmen from the city! There had +been plenty of fights over rights on the river, but they had always been +clean fights, where muscles and fists counted for the victory.</p> + +<p>Craig had claimed that the bluff of the guns would be sufficient. +Latisan was not agreeing, and on that account he was finding the outlook +a dark one.</p> + +<p>The train on which he was riding was an express headed for Canada, and +was due to pass the junction with the Adonia narrow-gauge at about two +o’clock in the morning. There was no scheduled stop at the junction; the +afternoon train connected and served the passengers from downcountry.</p> + +<p>Latisan had bought a ticket to the nearest regular stopping place of the +express. He began to wonder whether Craig, with the influence of the +Comas to aid him and his fifteen fellow passengers in an argument, had +been able to secure special favors.</p> + +<p>To the conductor, plucking out the hat check before the regular stop the +hither side of the junction, he said, “By any chance, does this train +ever stop at the Adonia narrow-gauge station?”</p> + +<p>“It happens that it stops to-night by special orders.”</p> + +<p>Latisan paid a cash fare and rode on.</p> + +<p>The coach in which he sat was the last car on the train; the smoker and +sleeping cars were ahead.</p> + +<p>When the train made its unscheduled stop, Latisan stepped down and was +immediately hidden in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>darkness. He saw Craig and his crew on the +station platform; the headlight of a narrow-gauge locomotive threw a +radiance which revealed them. Therefore, it was plain, Craig had wired +for a special on the Adonia line.</p> + +<p>Only one car was attached to the narrow-gauge engine; Latisan went as +close as he dared. There was no room for concealment on that miniature +train. It puffed away promptly, its big neighbor on the standard-gauge +roared off into the night, and Latisan was left alone in the blackness +before the dawn. And he felt peculiarly and helplessly alone! In spite +of his best efforts to keep up his courage, the single-handed crusader +was depressed by Craig’s command of resources; there was a sort of +insolent swagger in the Comas man’s ability to have what he wanted.</p> + +<p>Latisan knew fairly well the lay of the land at the junction, but he was +obliged to light matches, one after the other, in order to find the lane +which led to the stables of the mill company whose men had been drafted +by him on one occasion to load his dynamite. The night was stiflingly +black, there were no stars and not a light glimmered anywhere in the +settlement.</p> + +<p>He stumbled over the rough ground that had been rutted by the wheels of +the jigger wagons. The muffled thud of the hoofs of dozing horses guided +him in his search for the stables, and he found the door of the +hostlers’ quarters and pounded.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to go see the super; I don’t dare to let a hoss out of here +without orders,” said the man who listened to his request.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>“Tell me where his house is, and lend me a lantern.”</p> + +<p>The hostler yawned and mumbled and complained because he had been +disturbed, but he fumbled for the lantern, lighted it, and gave it to +Latisan, along with directions how to find the super’s home.</p> + +<p>That minor magnate was hard to wake, but he appeared at an open upper +window after a time and listened.</p> + +<p>“We can’t spare a horse in mud time, with the hauling as heavy as it is. +Who are you, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“I’m Ward Latisan.”</p> + +<p>“Hold that lantern up side of your face and let me see!”</p> + +<p>The young man obeyed meekly.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me for doubting your word of mouth,” said the super, after he +had assured himself, “but we hardly expected to see you back in this +region.” It was drawled with dry sarcasm.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the time to argue on that, sir. I have business north of +here. I’ll hire a horse or I’ll buy a horse.”</p> + +<p>“And you heard what I said, that I can’t spare one. By the way, Latisan, +you may as well understand that I won’t do business with you, anyway. +You got me in wrong with my folks and with the Three C’s, too, when you +bribed my men to load that dynamite.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t see why the Comas <span class="nowrap">company——”</span></p> + +<p>“I can. My folks can. If we get saw logs this year we’ve got to buy ’em +through Rufus Craig. When you ran away and let Ech Flagg get <span class="nowrap">dished——”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>“His drive is coming through,” insisted Latisan, desperately, breaking +in on speech in his turn.</p> + +<p>“Where are you from, right now?” inquired the super.</p> + +<p>“New York.”</p> + +<p>“And a devil of a lot you must have found out about the prospect of logs +from the independents, Flagg or anybody else. Don’t come up here and try +to tell me my business; I’ve been here all the time. Good night!” He +banged down the window.</p> + +<p>And once more Ward was alone in the night, distracted and desolate. This +testing of the estimation in which he was held in the north country +after the debacle in Adonia made his despondency as black as the +darkness which surrounded him.</p> + +<p>He wanted to call to the super and ask if at least he could buy the +lantern. He decided it would be better to borrow it.</p> + +<p>He set away afoot by the road which led to Adonia. Farms were scattered +along the highway and he stopped at the first house and banged on the +door and entreated. At two houses he was turned away relentlessly. The +third farmer was a wrinkled old chap who came down to the door, thumbing +his suspenders over his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Ward Latisan, be ye?” He peered at the countenance lighted by the +lantern. “Yes, I can see enough of old John in ye to prove what ye +claim. I worked for old John when I was young and spry. And one time he +speared his pick pole into the back of my coat and saved me from being +carried down in the white water. And that’s why ye can have a hoss to go +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>where ye want to go, and ye can bring him back when you’re done with +him.”</p> + +<p>Therefore, not by any merit of his own, Ward secured a mount and +journeyed dismally toward the north. The farm horse was fat and stolid +and plodded with slow pace; for saddle there was a folded blanket. With +only the lantern to light the way, he did not dare to hurry the beast. +It was not until wan, depressing light filtered from the east through +the mists that he ventured to make a detour which would take him outside +of Adonia. He realized that Craig would have arranged for tote teams to +be waiting at Adonia, as he had had a special waiting at the junction, +and was by that time far on his way toward Skulltree dam.</p> + +<p>Latisan beat the flanks of the old horse with the extinguished lantern +and made what speed he could along the blazed trail that would take him +to the tote road of the Noda basin.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span><a name="twenty-eight" id="twenty-eight"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE flare of the Flagg camp fires painted the mists luridly; the vapor +rolled sluggishly through the tree tops and faded into the blackness of +the night.</p> + +<p>Lida was seated apart from the men of the crew, knowing that they +mercifully wished to spare her from hearing the plans for the morrow.</p> + +<p>The logs were down the deadwater to a point where the supremacy at +Skulltree dam must be settled.</p> + +<p>She could hear the mumble of the voices of those who were in conference +around the fires.</p> + +<p>Across a patch of radiance she beheld the swaggering promenade of one of +the young cookees; he brandished a hatchet truculently. Old Vittum +reached out and swept the weapon from the youngster’s grasp.</p> + +<p>Lida heard Vittum’s rebuke, for it was voiced sharply. “None o’ that! We +don’t fight that way. And I’m believing that there are still enough +honest rivermen in the Comas crowd to make it a square fight, like we’ve +always had on the Noda when a fight had to be!”</p> + +<p>Unreconciled, all her woman’s nature protesting, she had come to a +settled realization that the fight must happen; Vittum was putting it in +words. Now that the struggle was imminent—on the eve of it—she wanted +to go down on her knees and beg them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>to give up the project; but she +did not dare to weaken their determination or wound their pride. She +crouched on her cot of spruce boughs in anguished misery.</p> + +<p>“Nobody has got to the point of using hatchets and guns on this river,” +corroborated a man on the other side of the fire from Vittum.</p> + +<p>Other men pitched their voices higher then, giving up the cautious +monotone of the preceding conference.</p> + +<p>“Is any man afeard?” asked Vittum.</p> + +<p>They assured him with confidence and gay courage that no man was afraid.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t hear any of you Injuns pipe up,” said Vittum. “You ain’t very +strong on talk, anyway. But I’d kind of like to know how you feel in +this matter. We all understood—all of us regulars—that we was coming +up here to fight when it got to that point. You have grabbed in later +and perhaps didn’t understand it. We ain’t asking you to do anything you +don’t want to do.”</p> + +<p>The Indians were silent. Even Felix Lapierre said nothing when Vittum +questioned him with a glance. The French Canadian turned to Frank Orono, +squatting within arm’s reach, and patted him on the shoulder. It became +plain that there was an understanding which did not require words.</p> + +<p>Orono rose slowly; he grinned. From the breast of his leather jacket he +brought forth a cow’s horn and shook it over his head, and its contents +rattled sharply. The other Indians leaped up. They were grinning, too.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>Orono began a slow march around the camp fire, lifting his knees high, +stepping slowly, beating the rattling horn into the palm of his hand. +Behind him in single file, imitating his step, marched the other +Indians. The smiles faded out of their countenances; their jaws were +set, and deep in their throats they growled a weird singsong.</p> + +<p>“My Gawd!” yelped Vittum. “It’s the old Tarratine war dance and it just +fits my notions right now, and I’m in on it!”</p> + +<p>He scrambled to his feet and fell into line at the rear of the Indians. +Every man in the Flagg crew followed suit. They imitated the Indian +singsong as best they were able, their voices constantly giving forth +greater volume until they were yelling their defiance to the Three C’s +company and all its works.</p> + +<p>The men far out on the deadwater, pushing against the bars of the +capstan, heard the tumult on the shore and shouted the chorus of their +challenging chantey.</p> + +<p>Between Lida and the men who were circling the fire there was a veil of +mist, and in the halation her champions loomed with heroic stature. She +did not want them to suppose that she was indifferent; courage of her +own leaped in her. The campaign which she had waged with them had given +her an experience which had fortified the spirit of the Flaggs. She +stepped forth from her little tent and walked down and stood in the edge +of the light cast by the camp fire. They cheered her, and she put aside +her qualms and her fears as best she was able.</p> + +<p>When she was back in her tent she did not shield her ears from the +challenging chantey, as she had done <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>before, and she heard with +fortitude the vociferous pledges of faith in the morrow.</p> + +<p>The dawn came so sullenly and so slowly that the day seemed merely a +faded copy of the night.</p> + +<p>A heavy fog draped the mountains and was packed in stifling masses in +the river valley.</p> + +<p>Crews in shifts marched tirelessly around the capstans of the headworks. +Their voices out in the white opaqueness sounded strangely under the +sounding-board of the fog.</p> + +<p>It was a brooding, ominous, baleful sort of a day, when shapes were +distorted in the mists and all sounds were magnified in queer fashion +and the echoes played pranks with distances and locations and +directions.</p> + +<p>Out of the murky blank came one who had gone a-scouting. He touched his +cap to the girl and reported to her and to all who were in hearing.</p> + +<p>“The Three C’s chief pirate has got along. Craig is down at the dam. I +was able to crawl up mighty close in the fog. I heard him. He’s ugly!”</p> + +<p>“I reckoned he would be a mite peevish as soon as the news of the social +happenings along the river for the past few days got to him,” said +Vittum. “It’s no surprise to me—been expecting him!”</p> + +<p>“He’s got a special edge on his temper—has been all bunged up by an +auto accident, so I heard him giving out to the men he was talking to.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s he saying of particular interest to us?”</p> + +<p>“Says he’s going to stick right at Skulltree and kill us off singly and +in bunches, just as we happen to come along.”</p> + +<p>“News is news, and it’s good or bad according to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>the way you look at +it,” declared the old man. “Does that fresh news scare anybody?”</p> + +<p>There was a vigorous chorus of denial; when one man averred that the +statement only made the fight more worth while he was indorsed with +great heartiness.</p> + +<p>“All right!” agreed Vittum. “We’ll consider that point settled.” He drew +a long breath; he inquired with anxious solicitude; “Did you overhear +him saying anything about Latisan? He might have heard something, coming +in fresh from outside.”</p> + +<p>The scout gave the girl a glance of apology; he was a tactless +individual in shading facts. “Of course, all that Three C’s bunch is +liars, and Craig worst of all. But I did hear him say that Latisan is +loafing in New York and is prob’ly in jail by this time.”</p> + +<p>The girl rose and walked away, and the fog shut her from their sight +immediately. She heard the old man cursing the incautious scout. “Why +the blazes didn’t you smooth it? You’ve gone to work and hurt her +feelings. She made her mistake, and she admits it. We all make our +mistakes,” said the rebuker. “But she’s true blue! I ain’t laying up +anything against Latisan because he doesn’t show up. It’s because the +girl is here that we are making men of ourselves right now. She’s +deserving of all we can give her. By gad! say I, she’s going to make +good with our help.”</p> + +<p>She was a considerable distance down the river path, but she heard that +speech and the shout of the men indorsing the declaration.</p> + +<p>Lida hastened as rapidly as she was able along the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>path that led to +Skulltree; she had reconnoitered on the previous day—going as near the +dam as she dared, trying to make the lay of the land suggest some method +by which battle might be avoided.</p> + +<p>While she ran down the path that morning she was arriving at some +definite conclusions. The news about Director Craig had put desperate +courage into her. The upper and the nether millstones of men and events +in the north country had begun their grim revolutions; she resolved to +cast herself between those stones in an effort to save faithful men who +were innocent of fault.</p> + +<p>When the dull rumble of the sluiceway waters informed her that she was +near the camp of the enemy she went more cautiously, and when she heard +the voices of men she called, announcing that she desired to speak with +Director Craig.</p> + +<p>Somebody replied, after a pause which indicated that considerable +amazement had been roused by a woman’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Come along, whoever you are! Mr. Craig is on the dam.”</p> + +<p>A man who kept jerking his head around to stare frankly at her led her +along the string piece of the great structure.</p> + +<p>Their meeting—she and the Comas director—was like a rencontre in the +void of space; on the water side of the dam the mists matched the hue of +the glassy surface and the blending masked the water; on the other side, +the fog filled the deep gorge where the torrent of the sluiceway +thundered.</p> + +<p>She was obliged to go close to him in order to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>emerge from the vapor +into his range of vision and to make her voice heard above the roar of +the water. His one visible eye surveyed her with blank astonishment; +near as she was to him, he did not recognize her at first in her rough +garb of the woods.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Craig, I <em>was</em>”—she stressed the verb significantly—“an employee +in the Vose-Mern agency in New York. I met you in their office.”</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands behind him as if he feared to have them free in +front of him; her proximity seemed to invite those hands, but his +countenance revealed that he was not in a mood then to give caresses. +“Was, eh? May I ask what you are right now?”</p> + +<p>“I’m doing my best to help in getting the Flagg drive down the +river—without trouble!”</p> + +<p>“Trouble!” He was echoing her again; it was as if, in his waxing ire, he +did not dare to launch into a topic of his own. “What do you call it, +what has been happening upriver?”</p> + +<p>“I presume you mean that dams have been blown to get water for our +logs.”</p> + +<p>“Our dams!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>“I’m a stranger up here. I don’t know whose dams they were. I have heard +all kinds of stories about the rights in the dams, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t say to you what I think—and what I want to say! You’re a girl, +confound it! I’ll only make a fool of myself, talking to you about our +rights and our property. But I can say to you, about your own work, that +you have been paid by our money to do a certain thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>She opened her eyes on him in offended inquiry.</p> + +<p>“I take it that you’re the same one who called herself Miss Patsy Jones +when you operated at Adonia.”</p> + +<p>“I did use that name—for personal reasons.”</p> + +<p>He did not moderate his wrath. “Here I find that Patsy Jones is Miss +Kennard of the Vose-Mern agency. We have paid good money to the agency. +When I settled for the last job I added two hundred dollars as a present +to you.”</p> + +<p>“I have not received the gift, sir. It does not belong to me. I’m here +on my own account. I came north at my own expense without notifying +Chief Mern that I was done with the agency; and strictly personal +reasons, also, influenced me on that point.” She was trying hard to keep +her poise, not loosing her emotions, preserving her dignity with a man +of affairs and phrasing her replies with rather stilted diction. “I have +my good reasons for doing all I can in my poor power to help the Flagg +drive go through.”</p> + +<p>The fact that her name was Kennard meant nothing to Rufus Craig, a New +Yorker who had never bothered himself with the ancient tales of the Noda +country. He did not understand what interest she could have in opposing +the Comas company; he could see only the ordinary and sordid side of the +affair. He looked her up and down and curled his lip.</p> + +<p>“You have been a traitor!”</p> + +<p>“Not to the right, sir, when I found out what the right was.”</p> + +<p>“I think you’ll have a chance to say something about that in court, in +your defense! You have put the devil into those men and I’m giving you +warning.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>“I shall tell the truth in court, Mr. Craig. You may or you may not +find that promise a warning of my own to you and your corporation +methods.”</p> + +<p>He blinked and looked away from her. “I’m busy! What are you doing here +on this dam? What do you want of me? Is it more detective work?” he +sneered. “Are you getting ready to double-cross the new gang you’re +hitched up with. For what reason you went over to ’em God only knows!”</p> + +<p>“He does know!” she returned, earnestly. She stepped closer to him. “I +came down here to plead that you’ll let the Flagg logs go through this +dam.”</p> + +<p>“I will not.” His anger had driven him to the extreme of obstinacy.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Craig, that stand means a wicked fight between men who are not paid +to fight.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve had a lot of influence in making men blow our dams. Use that +influence in keeping ’em away from this one, and there’ll be no fight.” +He turned away, but she hastened forward and put herself in front of +him.</p> + +<p>“I cannot do it, sir! That will be asking our men to give up all they +have been struggling for. I don’t know what the law is—or what the law +will say. Please listen to me! Keep the men from fighting—this season! +Then allow the law to put matters right up here. The Flagg logs have +gone down the river every year before this one. The good Lord has +furnished the water for all. Mr. Craig, out of the depths of my heart I +entreat you.” She had tried hard to keep womanly weakness away. She +wanted to conduct the affair on the plane of business good sense; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>but +anxiety was overwhelming her; she broke down and sobbed frankly.</p> + +<p>What appeared to be recourse to woman’s usual weapons served to make him +more furious. “The matter is before the courts. There’s a principle +involved. This dam stays as it is. That’s final!”</p> + +<p>“I’m pleading for a helpless old man who cannot come here to talk for +his own rights.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, my girl, you’re merely a smart trickster from the city—a +turncoat who can’t give one good excuse for being a traitor to your +employers.”</p> + +<p>“I can give an excuse!”</p> + +<p>“I’ve had enough of this,” he retorted, brutally, pricked by the +reflection that his corporation would disown him and his methods if he +failed to make good. “Can’t you see that you’re driving me insane with +your girl’s folly? You’re lucky because I haven’t brought officers up +here and ordered your arrest for conspiracy. You belong in jail along +with that fool of a Latisan.” His rage broke down all reserve. “Do you +see what he did to me in New York?” He pointed to his bandaged face. +“I’ll admit that he did have some sort of an excuse. You have none.”</p> + +<p>“I have this,” she said. “Mr. Craig! I am Echford Flagg’s +granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>The shell of his skepticism was too thick!</p> + +<p>“Do you think I am a complete fool? Flagg has no kin whatever!”</p> + +<p>“How long have you been acquainted in these parts?”</p> + +<p>“Three years,” he admitted; but he scowled his sentiment of utter +disbelief in her claim.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>“I am what I say I am,” she insisted. “Does that make any difference in +your stand here to-day?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit!”</p> + +<p>They surveyed each other for some time, the mists swirling slowly about +their heads.</p> + +<p>“If I shed any more tears and do any more pleading, sir, you’ll have +good reasons for believing that I have no blood of the Flaggs in me! Do +you still think I’m not what I say I am?”</p> + +<p>He sliced the fog contemptuously with the edge of his palm. “You can’t +talk that stuff to me!” She understood the futility of appeal; he turned +from her and she looked for a moment on the bulging scruff of his +obstinate neck.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Mr. Craig! If talk can’t convince you, I’ll try another +way!”</p> + +<p>She ran along the string piece and the curtain of the fog closed in +behind her.</p> + +<p>During her absence from the deadwater there had been a rallying of +forces.</p> + +<p>All the men were called in from the headworks and the booms. In that +following conference over the methods of the impending battle the +riverjacks were able to express themselves with more sanguinary +vehemence than would have been allowed in the presence of the girl.</p> + +<p>They felt that the fog was a particularly fortunate circumstance, and +with grim haste they set about taking advantage of the mask that would +hide their advance. In single file they began their march down the river +shore. There were men who bore cant dogs; others were armed with pike +poles. But there was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>no intent to cut and thrust. It was to be a man’s +fight with the flat of those weapons, with the tools of the job, honest +thwacks given and taken. If one of them had ventured to pack an edged +weapon or a gun he would have been shamed among his fellows.</p> + +<p>Halfway to the dam they met the girl, hurrying back. She understood. She +did not ask questions. But when they halted she explained her own +movements.</p> + +<p>“I took it on myself to go to Director Craig,” she said. “I was hoping I +might be able to make him look at the thing in the right way. I did not +apologize for you or for what has been done. If I could prevent this +trouble I would make any sacrifice of myself.”</p> + +<p>“We know that,” stated Vittum, and he was indorsed by whole-souled +murmurs.</p> + +<p>“But he would not listen to me. And all I can say to you men is this: +God bless you and help you!”</p> + +<p>They thanked her and then they stood aside from the path, offering her a +way for retreat to the rear.</p> + +<p>But she turned and walked on toward the dam. She shook her head when +they protested. “No, I claim it as my right to go with you.” She was +even brave enough to relieve the tenseness of the situation by a flash +of humor. “I don’t believe one of those Comas cowards will get near +enough to hurt any one of you. Haven’t we found them out already? But if +anybody in this crew does get hurt, you’ll find me in full charge of the +field hospital!”</p> + +<p>There was no more talk after that; they trod softly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>on the duff under +the trees; they dodged the ledges where their spike-soled boots might +have rasped.</p> + +<p>“Did you note where the main bunch is, miss?” whispered the old man at +her side.</p> + +<p>“I saw only one man except Craig. The director was out on the dam, near +the gates.”</p> + +<p>“Where the cap’n is, there the gang must be. We’ll use that tip.”</p> + +<p>The men deployed as soon as they were in the open space near the end of +the dam.</p> + +<p>Even though they had had the protection of the fog up to that point, +they knew their attack could not be made wholly a surprise; they were +depending on their resoluteness and on being able to beat their way to a +control of the gates.</p> + +<p>Two men appeared to them in the fog.</p> + +<p>“Now just a moment before you start something for which you’ll be +sorry,” said one of the men. “I’m from the shire town and I’m attorney +for the Comas corporation.” He pointed to a man at his side, who pulled +aside his coat lapel and exhibited a badge. “This is a deputy sheriff. +The courts are protecting this property by an injunction.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got only your word for that,” stated the old man.</p> + +<p>“You have been warned in law. That’s all I’m here for. Now unless you +keep off this property you must take the consequences.”</p> + +<p>The lawyer and the officer marched away and were effaced by the fog.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad it ain’t a clear day,” remarked the spokesman to the crew. +“We’d prob’ly be able to see <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>the injunction that’s guarding this dam. +But I ain’t going to let a lawyer tell me about anything I can’t see.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s a thing I can see,” called one of the men who had gone +skirmishing in the direction which the attorney and sheriff had taken. +“Here’s a Comas crowd strung along the wings o’ the dam. I can see what +they’re lugging! Come on, men! It’s a cant-dog, pick-pole fight.”</p> + +<p>The attackers went into the fray with a yell.</p> + +<p>The defenders of the dam were on higher ground; some of them thrust with +the ugly weapons, others swung the strong staves and fenced. There was +the smash of wood against wood, the clatter of iron. Men fell and rolled +and came up! They who were bleeding did not seem to mind.</p> + +<p>“They’re backing up,” yelled one of the Flagg crew. “Damn ’em, they’re +getting ready to run, as usual!”</p> + +<p>There did seem to be some sort of concerted action of retreat on the +part of the defenders.</p> + +<p>“Look out for tricks,” counseled Vittum, getting over the guard of an +antagonist and felling him.</p> + +<p>A few moments later the line of the defense melted; the Comas men dodged +somewhere into the fog. The assailants had won to the higher level of +the dam’s wing.</p> + +<p>And then that level melted, too!</p> + +<p>It was a well-contrived trap—boards covered with earth—a surface +supported by props which had been pulled away by ropes. More than half +the Flagg men tumbled into deep and muddy water and threshed helplessly +in a struggling mass until the others laid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>down their weapons and +pulled the drowning men out.</p> + +<p>The attacking army retired for repairs and grouped on the solid shore. +Except for the roar of the sluiceway and the gasping of the men who were +getting breath there was something like calm after the uproar of the +battle.</p> + +<p>Out of the fog sounded the voice of Director Craig.</p> + +<p>“We have given you your chance to show how you respect the law. What you +have done after a legal warning is chalked up against you. Now that you +have proclaimed yourselves as outlaws I have something of my own to +proclaim to you. I am up <span class="nowrap">here——”</span></p> + +<p>A stentorian voice slashed in sharply, and Craig’s speech was cut off.</p> + +<p>The voice came from one who was veiled in the fog, but they all knew it +for Ward Latisan’s. “Yes, Craig, you’re here—here about five hours +ahead of me because you had the cash to hire a special train. However, I +know the short cuts for a man on horseback. I’m here, too!”</p> + +<p>His men got a dim view of him in the mists; he loomed like a statue of +heroic size on the horse. Then he flung himself off and came running +down the shore.</p> + +<p>He went straight to Lida and faced her manfully; but his eyes were +humbly beseeching and his features worked with contrite apology. “I know +now who you are, Miss Kennard. I don’t mean to presume, in the case of +either you or your men. But will you allow me to speak to them?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>“Yes,” she assented, trying to hold her poise, helped by his manner.</p> + +<p>He turned quickly from her eyes as if her gaze tortured him.</p> + +<p>“I have been a coward, men. I ran away from my job. I’m ashamed of +myself. I can’t square myself, but let me do my bit to-day.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you can do—with that gang o’ sneaks—after real men +have had to quit,” growled Vittum, unimpressed.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’m sneak enough these days to know how to deal with ’em,” +confessed Latisan, bitterly. “I stayed back there just now while the +fight was on, but I knew a man fight wouldn’t get us anything from +them.”</p> + +<p>The men of the crew made no demonstration; they were awkwardly silent. +The arrival of the deserter who confessed that he had been a coward did +not encourage them at a time when they had failed ridiculously in their +first sortie. He had ceased to be a captain who could inspire. He was +one man more in a half-whipped crew, that was all.</p> + +<p>They who had been dumped over the dam dragged slimy mud from their faces +and surveyed him with sullen rebuke, remembering sharply that he had run +away from the girl whose cause they had taken up.</p> + +<p>The others, their faces marked with welts from blows, gazed and sniffed +disparagingly.</p> + +<p>But when he spoke out to the girl and her crew they listened with +increasing respect because a quick shift to manly resolution impressed +them.</p> + +<p>His tone was tensely low and the noise of the tum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>bling water shielded +his voice from eavesdroppers on the dam. “I stood back there in the fog +and I heard what was said about an injunction. It’s bad business, +running against the courts, men. That injunction hangs over the crew of +Echford Flagg. I am not one of that crew. What I may do is on my own +account, and I’ll stand the blame of it. All I ask is that you step +aside and let me alone.”</p> + +<p>“That ain’t the way we want to play this game,” declared Vittum.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a square game, men, and that’s why you mustn’t play it. It +isn’t a riverman fight to-day. I came north from New York on the train +with Craig. He brought a gang of gunmen with him. They’re hidden there +in the fog. He means to go the limit, hoping to get by with it because +you made the first attack. It’s up to me from now on.”</p> + +<p>“What in the name of the horn-headed Sancho do you think you can do all +alone against guns?” demanded Vittum, scornfully.</p> + +<p>“Think?” repeated Latisan. “I’ve had plenty of time for thinking on my +way up here. Let me alone, I say!”</p> + +<p>Lida went to him and put her hand on his arm, and he trembled; it seemed +almost like a caress. But by no tenderness in his eyes or his expression +was he indicating that he considered himself back on his former footing +with her.</p> + +<p>“Miss Kennard, don’t keep me from trying to square myself with the Flagg +crew, if I can. I’m not hoping that anything can square me with you; +it’s past hope.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>He moved away, but she clung to him. “I must know what you intend to +do. I’ll not accept a reckless sacrifice—no, I’ll not.”</p> + +<p>“One evening in Adonia you gave me a lecture on duty and self-respect, +Miss Kennard. I wish I’d taken your advice then. But that advice has +never left my thoughts. I’m taking it now. I entreat you, don’t let me +shame myself again. This is before men,” he warned her, in low tones. +“Give me my fighting chance to make good with them—I beg you!”</p> + +<p>He set back his shoulders, turned from her, and shouted Craig’s name +till the Comas director replied.</p> + +<p>“Craig, yon in the fog! Do you hear?”</p> + +<p>“I hear you, Latisan!”</p> + +<p>“Do our logs go through Skulltree by your decent word to us?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll never give that word, my man!”</p> + +<p>“Then take your warning! The fight is on—and this time I’m in it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to be informed. I have an announcement of my own to make. +Listen!” He gave a command. Instantly, startlingly, in the fog-shrouded +spaces of the valley rang out a salvo of gun fire. Many rifles spat. The +sound rolled in long echoes along the gorge and was banged back by the +mountain sides.</p> + +<p>“Latisan, those bullets went into the air. If you and your men come onto +this <span class="nowrap">dam——”</span></p> + +<p>“There’s only one kind of a fight up here among honest men—and you +won’t stand for it, eh?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got your number! You’re declared outlaws. These men will shoot to +kill.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>In the chorus from the Flagg crew there were howls and groans.</p> + +<p>“And argument won’t bring to you any sense of reason and decency, will +it?” demanded the drive master.</p> + +<p>“We shall shoot to kill!” insisted the magnate of the Comas corporation.</p> + +<p>“All right! If those are your damnable principles, I’ll go according to +’em.”</p> + +<p>The girl caught his hands when he started away. “You must not! No matter +what you are—no matter what you know I am, now. He’ll understand when +we tell him—down there! There’s more to life than logs!”</p> + +<p>“I have my plans,” he assured her, quietly. “You must realize how much +this thing means to me now.”</p> + +<p>The unnatural silence in the ranks of the Flagg crew, after Latisan’s +declaration had been voiced, provoked Craig to venture an apprehensive +inquiry. “You don’t intend to come ramming against these guns, do you?”</p> + +<p>“Hold your guns off us! I’m going away. And these men are going with +me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good judgment.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m coming back! I won’t sneak up on you. That isn’t my style of +fighting. You’ll hear me on the way. I’ll be coming down almighty hard +on my heels. Remember that, Craig!”</p> + +<p>Lida was at his side when he marched away up the shore toward the Flagg +camp at the deadwater, and his men trailed him, mumbling their comments +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>on the situation and wondering by what sort of miracle he would be able +to prevail over armed gangsters who were paid to kill.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to ask you all to excuse me for playing a lone hand from now +on, boys,” said the drive master, standing in front of them when they +were gathered at the camping place. “If they weren’t working a dirty +trick with their guns, I’d have you along with me just as I intended in +the past. But you have had your fun while I’ve been making a fool of +myself! Give me my chance now!”</p> + +<p>He bowed to Lida and walked up the shore alone. No one stayed him. The +girl locked together her trembling fingers, straining her eyes till he +disappeared.</p> + +<p>He knew the resources and methods of the drive. Soon he came upon a +bateau pulled high on the river bank. There were boxes in the bateau, +covered by a tarpaulin whose stripings of red signaled danger. He found +a sack in the craft. He pried open one of the boxes and out of the +sawdust in which they were packed he drew brown cylinders and tucked +them carefully into the sack. The cylinders were sticks of dynamite. The +sack was capacious and he stuffed it full. The bag sagged heavily with +the weight of the load when he swung it over his shoulder and started up +the bank, away from the river.</p> + +<p>When Latisan walked away from Lida the mist again had lent its illusion, +and he seemed to become of heroic size before the gray screen hid him +from her sight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>Vittum tried pathetically to relieve the stress of the silence.</p> + +<p>“The last peek at him made him look big enough to do ’most anything he +sets out to do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes! But how can he fight them all single-handed?” She was pale and +trembling.</p> + +<p>“If I’m any judge, by the direction he took just now he has gone up and +tapped our stock of canned thunder, miss. And if I ain’t mistook about +his notions, he is going to sound just about as big as he looked when we +got that last peek!”</p> + +<p>The rivermen did not lounge on the ground, as they usually did when they +were resting. They stood, tensely waiting for what Latisan’s manner of +resolution had promised.</p> + +<p>Lida asked no more questions; she was unable to control her tones. She +had been given a hint of Ward’s intentions by what the old man had said +about the “canned thunder.” She did not dare to be informed as to the +probable details of those intentions; to know fully the nature of the +risk he was running would have made the agony of her apprehensiveness +unendurable.</p> + +<p>It seemed to them, waiting there, that what Latisan had undertaken was +never going to happen. They were not checking off the time in minutes; +for them time was standing still. The far grumble of waters in the gorge +merely accentuated the hush—did not break upon the profound silence. +When a chickadee lilted near at hand the men started nervously and the +girl uttered a low cry; even a bird’s note had power to trip their +nervous tension.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>The sound for which they were waiting came to them at last.</p> + +<p>It was a sound with a thud in it!</p> + +<p>Listeners who possessed an imagination would have found a suggestion of +the crash of the hammer of Thor upon the mountain top.</p> + +<p>“He looked big enough for that when he left us!” muttered the old man. +He had never heard of the pagan divinity whom men called Thor. His mind +was on the river gladiator who had declared that he would come down +heavy on his heels when he started.</p> + +<p>The brooding opacity which wrapped the scene made the location of the +sound uncertain; but it was up somewhere among the hills. The echoes +battered to and fro between the cliffs.</p> + +<p>Before those echoes died the sound was repeated.</p> + +<p>“He’s coming slow, but he’s come sure!” Vittum voiced their thoughts. +“Them’s the footsteps of Latisan!”</p> + +<p>On they came! And as they thrust their force upon the upper ledges there +was a little jump of the earth under the feet of those who stood and +waited.</p> + +<p>There was something indescribably grim and bodeful in those isochronal +batterings of the solid ground. The echoes distracted the thoughts—made +the ominous center of the sounds a matter of doubt. That uncertainty +intensified the threat of what was approaching the dam of Skulltree.</p> + +<p>There were other sounds, after a few moments. Rifles were cracking +persistently; but it was manifestly random firing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>The old man stepped to Lida and grasped her hand and held it. “Don’t be +’feared for him, miss. They’re only guessing! He’ll be knowing the +ledges—every lift of ’em that’s betwixt him and them. They’ll never get +him with their popguns. But he’ll get <em>them</em>!” he declared, with venom. +“I wonder what Craig is thinking now, with his old bug eyes poking into +that fog and doing him as much good as if he was stabbing a mill pond +with his finger!”</p> + +<p>The rifle fire died away, after a desultory patter of shots.</p> + +<p>“They’re running!” said one of the crew. “They must be on the run!”</p> + +<p>“You bet they’re running,” agreed the old man. “The Three C’s hasn’t got +money enough to hire men, to stand up in front of what’s tromping down +toward Skulltree! Heavier and heavier on his heels!”</p> + +<p>Measuredly slow, inexorably persistent, progressed the footsteps of the +giant blasts.</p> + +<p>Latisan’s men needed no eye-proof in order to understand the method.</p> + +<p>The drive master was hurling the dynamite sticks far in advance of +himself and to right and to left, making his own location a puzzling +matter. The men had seen him bomb incipient jams in that fashion, +lighting short fuses and heaving the explosive to a safe distance.</p> + +<p>The blasts were nearer and still nearer, and more frequent; the ground +quaked under their feet; in the intervening silences they heard the +whine and the rustle of upthrown litter in the air, the patterings and +plops of debris raining into the spaces of the deadwater.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>Behind the attack was the menace of the bodefully unseen—the +lawlessness of the fantastically unprecedented.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame the fellers with the guns, if they have quit,” commented +Vittum. “They might as well try to lick the lightning in a +thundercloud.”</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span><a name="twenty-nine" id="twenty-nine"></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</h2> + + +<p class="cap">MERN’S mercenaries were not cowards. They had served valiantly as guards +of strike breakers, had fought in many forays, had winged their +attackers, and had been winged in return. At mill gates they had +resisted mobs and had endured missiles; they had ridden on trucks, +protecting goods and drivers, through lanes of howling, hostile +humanity; they had thrown the cordon of their bodies around dock +workers.</p> + +<p>But the gunmen’s exploits in intrepidity had been, of and in the cities.</p> + +<p>The environment at Skulltree was the Great Open.</p> + +<p>They were not backed by solidity or barricaded behind walls. There was +not the reassurance of good, honest earth under their feet; they were +precariously perched in space, so it seemed—standing on the stringers +of the dam, peering into a void of shrouding mists and thunderous +waters, the wilderness all about them!</p> + +<p>In their battles in past times they had been able to see the foe; now +they were called on to fight a noise—the bodeful detonations of blasts, +to right, to left—here and there.</p> + +<p>There was a foe; he was on his way. They did not know what sort of ruin +he purposed to wreak as the climax of his performance. Craig himself did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>not know, so he affirmed in reply to anxious queries, and the boss’s +uncertainty and increasing consternation added to the peculiar +psychological menace of the thing.</p> + +<p>“Give us orders, Mr. Craig!” pleaded the captain of the guards. “Show us +something to fight against. How many of ’em are there? Where are they?</p> + +<p>“It’s that damnable Latisan, working single-handed. I’m sure of it. Go +get him!”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t get him, he’s going to blow up this dam,” stated the +frightened lawyer.</p> + +<p>A far-flung bomb of dynamite landed in the water and shot a geyser +spraying against the fog pall.</p> + +<p>“I’m taking that guess for gospel,” affirmed the chief gunman, wiping +spray from his face. “Mr. Craig, you can’t expect us to hang on here, +facing a thing like what’s coming!”</p> + +<p>“Shoot him!” gasped the Comas director, but he was revolving on unsteady +feet and the aimlessness of his gaze revealed that he had no definite +idea of procedure; his incertitude wrecked all the courage of his +supporters.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be done, sir. Not in this fog! We’d better get <span class="nowrap">ashore——”</span></p> + +<p>“And let him wreck this dam?”</p> + +<p>“If he’s going to wreck it, we’d better be off it.”</p> + +<p>In his fear Craig became insulting, and that attitude ended his control +of the situation. “You’re hired with money, you cowards! Now earn it!”</p> + +<p>“This is where your money can’t buy something for you, Mr. Craig,” the +captain of the gunmen declared, and then he led the retreat of his squad +across <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>Skulltree dam and into the woods on the far shore from the +portentous, invisible peril.</p> + +<p>And with dire extremity clearing for the moment his clouded vision, +enabling him to look squarely at the matter of service and loyalty as he +was able to command it, Craig knew that when his money failed him in the +north country he had no other resource. He had blinked that fact in the +past, having found that in ordinary affairs his dollars were dominant; +but this extraordinary event was knocking out from under him all the +props of confidence; he felt bitterly alone all of a sudden.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to vamoose off this dam,” declared the deputy sheriff.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got your duty as an officer of the law,” shouted Craig, +desperately feeling that in the case of this man, at least, he was +making an appeal to something that was not covered by a money +consideration.</p> + +<p>“And I’ve got my common sense, too!” retorted the sheriff. He started +away.</p> + +<p>“So have I,” agreed the attorney, a lawyer who had obeyed a telegram and +had joined the Craig expedition at the shire town of the county the +night before.</p> + +<p>“There’s an injunction!” stormed the field director.</p> + +<p>“And there’s a lunatic with a sack of dynamite.” The lawyer crooked his +arm across his face; a missile from the white void had splashed near by +and water sprayed him. “You have told me that Latisan is no longer in +Flagg’s service. I’m not depending now on law, Mr. Craig, I’m depending +on my legs.”</p> + +<p>He fled on the trail of the officer. But he left a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>pregnant thought in +Craig’s mind: Latisan was not an employee of Echford Flagg. As a matter +of fact, Craig owned to himself—his clarity of vision persisting in +that time of overwhelming disaster, in the wreck of the hopes built on +the power of his money—that the thing had now become almost wholly a +personal, guerrilla warfare between himself and Latisan; and when the +truth came out, if the matter were forced to that issue, Craig would +lack the backing of authority fully as much as Latisan lacked it then, +in his assault on property. The bluff of the guns had not worked! Craig +was realizing that in hiring such men, as he had on the spur of the +moment, his rage instead of his business good judgment had prevailed.</p> + +<p>There were the repeated warnings of his superiors! The law would be +obliged to investigate if Skulltree dam were wrecked, and would probe to +the bottom of the moving reasons! Scandal, rank scandal! Craig could +behold President Horatio Marlow as he sat that day with upraised, +monitory forefinger, urging the touchy matter of credits and reputation. +Craig could hear Dawes, the attorney: “That talk puts the thing up to +you square-edged!”</p> + +<p>Down from the mist-shrouded cliff was advancing a vengeful man who +walked with the footsteps of thunder.</p> + +<p>As Craig had looked ahead, basing his judgment on his experience with +men and matters, it had seemed an easy matter to guard Skulltree with +money and law. But in this astounding sortie of Latisan’s, Comas money +was of no use and Craig was developing an acute fear of the law which, +invoked, would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>take matters into court. Over and over, his alarmed +convictions pounded on his caution.</p> + +<p>He crouched under a rain of dirt and pebbles—then he ran away.</p> + +<p>When he reached the far shore he jumped into a bateau that was pulled up +there. With all the power of his lungs he yelled for rowers. He was +obliged to confess loudly and unreservedly that he was giving up the +fight—was seeking a way of stopping Latisan—before any of his men +would come from the shelter of woods and fog and serve him.</p> + +<p>He cursed them with the vigor of a master of galley slaves when the +bateau was frothing along the deadwater. Then he bellowed into the fog, +seeking a replying hail which would locate for him the Flagg crew. There +was no repentance in him; his was a panic of compromise—a headlong rush +to save himself from consequences. There was just as much uncertainty +about what Latisan would do as there was about the dynamiter’s exact +location in that fog.</p> + +<p>Therefore, Craig announced himself with raucous staccato of: “I quit! I +quit! Get that man! Tell him I quit!”</p> + +<p>Men hailed from the shore and their voices guided the rowers. Craig +leaped from the bow of the bateau and waded for the last few yards.</p> + +<p>“Go stop him! Bring him here!” He tossed his arms.</p> + +<p>“Huh!” scoffed old Vittum. “That’s a job for somebody who can tell which +way the next stroke of lightning is heading.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give five hundred dollars to the man who’ll <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>get to him and stop +him before he smashes that dam!”</p> + +<p>Craig added to the other visions which had been torturing him the +possible catastrophe of the Comas logs roaring through past the mouth of +a useless canal; he could look ahead still farther and see the grins of +the sawmill men down the Noda, setting their own prices.</p> + +<p>Once more Craig was finding that his money was getting him nothing that +day, and his sense of helplessness was revealed by his sagging jowls and +dolorous eyes; and he had always depended on what money could buy!</p> + +<p>There was no alacrity for service shown by any man of Flagg’s crew.</p> + +<p>“We’re not afraid,” said Felix Lapierre, breaking on Craig’s furious +taunts. “We have promise’ to keep off and let him make good for +himself—the lone hand—that’s it!”</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” agreed Vittum.</p> + +<p>“He has made good,” bleated the Comas man. “If he goes any farther it +will only be bad.”</p> + +<p>The dialogue was taking place disjointedly in the silences between the +blasts. But Craig made himself heard above the next explosion. “He’s +ripping hell out of that dam now. Get to him. A thousand dollars for the +man who stops him!”</p> + +<p>“No man in this crew needs any of your money!” Lida was defiantly in +front of the Comas director. “But if you’re ready to listen to reason +after <span class="nowrap">this——”</span></p> + +<p>She broke off and turned from him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>Before they realized that she had volunteered, she was away in the fog.</p> + +<p>In a moment they heard her voice, raised in a thrilling call, appealing +to the avenger.</p> + +<p>“That’ll fetch him back—even if he was two miles deep in hell,” Craig +was informed by one of the men. “It’s a lucky thing for the Three C’s +that she’s on the job to-day.”</p> + +<p>The Comas director stood holding to a tree. He shivered every time an +explosion clanged its echoes from cliff to cliff.</p> + +<p>And when, after a waiting that was agony, the dreadful bombardment +ceased, Craig staggered to the bateau and sat down on its prow.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you for looking that way,” said Vittum. “If Latisan had +been driven to get that dam to-day you would have lost your drive for +the canal; and, before God and your directors, you would have been +responsible!”</p> + +<p>When Latisan came out of the fog he had put away, somewhere, the sack +which had held destruction.</p> + +<p>When he had gone away from them, entering upon the perils of his +undertaking, he was calm and resolute. Now that he was back, a champion +who had prevailed single-handed, he was pale, trembling, and broken; +they did not understand, at first.</p> + +<p>Lida came with him, trying to soothe him, pleading and protesting; he +constantly muttered broken speech and seemed to be trying to control a +mood that was half frenzy. He left her and stumbled across the open +space to Craig.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>“Everything else you have done—it’s nothing as bad as this last. You +sent her where you didn’t dare to go yourself. Good God! you Comas +sneak, I ought to kill you where you sit! For all you cared you were +making me a murderer of an innocent girl!”</p> + +<p>“You had to be stopped. She went before I knew what she was going to +do.”</p> + +<p>“And if she hadn’t gone on her own account you would have tried to hire +her to do it! It’s always a case of what you can buy with your +money—that’s your style, Craig. Now you’re up against something you +can’t buy. I’m still working alone—understand that? If you want to +report me as an outlaw, go ahead! I’m giving you squarer warning than +you gave me on the Tomah when you smashed the Latisans. If I smash that +dam down there I’ll be smashing you! I’ll do it if you put as much as a +toothpick in the way of the independent drives. I’ll blow the bottom out +of your canal, in the bargain. And if you think you or your gang can +locate me over there”—he pointed in the direction of the hills of the +watershed between the rivers basins—“try it! I know every hole in those +hills. I’ll keep bombing your drives till you can’t keep a man on the +job. That’s the kind of an outlaw I am from now on.”</p> + +<p>“It’s between us now, Latisan. I’ll own up to it. It has come to that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s between renegades. I’m admitting that I’m one,” retorted +Ward.</p> + +<p>Craig stood up. If there was any of the spirit of Three C’s bluster left +in him he was concealing it successfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>“Latisan, all these men have heard me say that I quit. I lost my head +and was pushing the thing too far, considering it from a business +standpoint. Can I be any more honest than that?”</p> + +<p>“It sounds all right, but I take stock in you only to the extent that +you’ll stay in line if I stay on the job. I shall stay, as I have warned +you.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose we talk turkey about the common rights at Skulltree!”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to talk with Miss Kennard about her grandfather’s +interests. I’m simply a chance comer here!”</p> + +<p>Latisan walked away and leaned against a tree.</p> + +<p>Craig approached Lida. “We have already had some talk about the matter, +I believe. I retreat from the position I have taken. Evidently we must +make mutual allowances. What have you thought out about the details of a +plan to let your logs through?”</p> + +<p>The girl did not reply; she had no plans; she did not understand such +matters.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to decide on the head of water you’ll need, and I take it +you’ll allow us enough for the canal so that we can save our drive.” +Craig was trying hard to offer compromise, but he was not able to +repress all his sarcastic venom. “There’s the matter of sorting and the +other details. I’ll have to ask for your views, Miss Kennard, because +any misunderstanding may be dangerous, so I have been informed.”</p> + +<p>She looked helplessly from Craig to Latisan. The latter’s aloofness, +which he had displayed ever since he first appeared to her that day, his +present peculiar <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>relationship to the affair, his insistence that he +must serve alone, made her problem more complex. Her vivid yearning was +to give all into Latisan’s keeping, but she did not dare to propose it.</p> + +<p>She looked at Vittum and Felix, seeking advice. The French Canadian +smiled and shrugged his shoulders, evading responsibility. He did not +understand such matters, either.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I might be able to dig up some sort o’ general ideas, give me +time enough,” said Vittum, when her eyes questioned him anxiously. “But +I’m sort of hazy right now.” He winked at her and ducked his head to +indicate Latisan.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid!” she phrased the lament with a doleful motion of her lips +rather than with spoken words.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be said but what he’ll be impartial—the best one to ask,” +mumbled Vittum, stepping close to her. “He ain’t hired by either side, +as I understand it!” He was ironic, but there was a suggestion which she +grasped desperately. She went to Latisan. Their conversation was in an +undertone and the bystanders did not hear the words.</p> + +<p>When she returned to Craig, Lida, confident in her new poise, reassured, +informed in a fashion which fortified her self-reliance, met the Comas +man with a demeanor which did credit to the granddaughter of Echford +Flagg.</p> + +<p>“I have not tried to involve Mr. Latisan in any way. I have asked his +advice as an expert.” She looked straight into the shifting eyes of the +Comas director. “Last fall he was at Tech, and took a special course in +hydraulic engineering. You know <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>that, of course, Mr. Craig!” She paused +till he bowed to admit the truth with which she insisted on displacing +the lie which had followed Latisan in the north country. “And Mr. +Latisan has had a great deal of practical experience on his own drives. +It seems absolutely necessary to have a sorting gap here, with men of +both crews handling the logs. When our timber is through the +sluiceway—the daily run of logs—we are to be given a head of water +which will take us through the gorge. As to the logs upriver—the +rear—we are willing to join drives with you, Mr. Craig, so that we may +use all the water together.” She set back her shoulders. “That plan will +serve us this season. For another season the independents will have laws +of their own from the legislature. I’m quite sure that the independents +have waked up and know now what some special legislative acts can do for +their interests.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon for breaking in, Miss Kennard,” said Latisan, from +his distance. “But this seems to be the time for me to say to Mr. Craig, +in the presence of witnesses, that the same plan goes for the Tomah +region. The independents over there can’t be licked, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Nor the Latisans,” shouted somebody in the Flagg crew.</p> + +<p>That friendly corroboration of the young man’s inmost determination +served as a challenge. The drive master walked toward Craig and shook +his fist. “No, nor the Latisans! We have a sawmill, and we’re not +worrying about the logs to feed it. But you understand, Mr. Craig, that +the independents <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>must have gangway on the river for their cut. And we +know how to get gangway!”</p> + +<p>He went back to his tree and resumed his whittling.</p> + +<p>“To me the future looks very promising,” said Lida. “We’re all a little +disturbed now, Mr. Craig, but we’re coming to a perfect understanding. +Don’t you think so?”</p> + +<p>Craig did not reply at once, and she added, with ingenuous affectation +of desiring to bring forward reasons for his agreement, “If the Comas +company does join drives with us you will have the help of a perfectly +wonderful crew, Mr. Craig. I’m told that we’re a week or ten days ahead +of the usual time—and the men have never seemed to be considering mere +wages!”</p> + +<p>The Three C’s director rolled his eyes, avoiding her candidly provoking +regard. He shifted his gaze to Latisan, who had turned his back on the +group and was still whittling placidly, propped against a tree by his +shoulder. “Wonderful teamwork,” growled the Comas man. “But sticking out +for anything else will be a fool stunt. Miss Kennard, there’s a lawyer +over there in the woods, somewhere! The thing to do now seems to be to +hunt him up so that he can help us to pass papers of agreement.” He +swung his hand to indicate the bateau. “Will you go with me?”</p> + +<p>She hesitated. Then she smiled amiably on Craig. “I think I’d rather +walk along the path, sir. I’ll meet you and the lawyer at this end of +the dam.”</p> + +<p>Craig trudged down to the boat and was swept away into the fog.</p> + +<p>Latisan did not turn; he kept on whittling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>”Mr. Latisan!“ she invited. ”May I have your company to the dam? I’m +sorry to trouble you, but I may be obliged to refer to you for further +advice.“</p> + +<p>”I feel called on to remark,“ said old Vittum, always an irrepressible +commentator when comment seemed to be necessary, speaking after Latisan +and Lida had walked away into the mist—”I’ll say to all that she knows +her business.“</p> + +<p>”But it was Latisan who advised her,“ objected a literalist.</p> + +<p>”Hell! I ain’t speaking of this drive,“ snapped the old man. ”I’m +complimenting her on a job where she doesn’t need anybody’s advice!“</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span><a name="thirty" id="thirty"></a>CHAPTER THIRTY</h2> + + +<p class="cap">THE sun at meridian that day burned away the mists, for it was May and +the high sun was able to prevail.</p> + +<p>The sluiceway of Skulltree dam was open and in the caldron of the gorge +a yeasty flood boiled and the sunlight painted rainbows in the drifting +spume. Rolling cumbrously, end over end, at the foot of the sluice, +lifting glistening, dripping flanks, sinking and darting through the +white smother of the waters, the logs of the Flagg drive had begun their +flight to the holdbooms of Adonia.</p> + +<p>Lida and the taciturn squire whom she had drafted had climbed to the +cliffs above the gorge in order to behold the first fruits of the +compact which had been concluded with Craig and the Comas. Latisan went +with her to the cliff because she had asked him to show her the way. His +manner with her was not exactly shyness; she had been studying him, +trying anxiously to penetrate his thoughts. He was reserved, but +awkwardly so; it was more like embarrassment; it was a mingling of +deference and despair in the face of a barrier.</p> + +<p>It was warm up there where the sun beat against the granite, and she +pulled off the jacket which had been one of her credentials in the north +country. “I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>took the liberty of wearing it—and the cap. I’ll not need +them any more.”</p> + +<p>She took the cap from her head. The breeze which had followed the calm +of the mist fluttered a loose lock of her hair across her forehead and +the sun lighted a glint within the tress. He gazed and blinked.</p> + +<p>“I heard you had them—I heard it in Mern’s office in New York,” he +said, with poor tact.</p> + +<p>She offered them and he took the garments, clutching the cap and holding +the jacket across his arm.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you for looking at me as you do,” she went on, demurely +and deprecatingly feminine at that moment. She smoothed her blouse with +both hands and glanced down at her stained and ragged skirt. “It’s my +only warm dress and I’ve lived and slept in it—and I haven’t minded a +bit when the coffee slopped. I was trying to do my best.”</p> + +<p>He rocked his head voicelessly, helplessly—striving to fit speech to +the thoughts that surged in him.</p> + +<p>Then she made a request which perturbed him still more: “You came up +here on horseback, I think you said. May I borrow the horse?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that you’re going away?” he gulped.</p> + +<p>She spread her hands and again glanced down at her attire. She was +hiding deeper motives behind the thin screen of concern for her +wardrobe, trying to make a jest of the situation, and not succeeding. +“You must own up that I need to go shopping.”</p> + +<p>He turned from her to the chasm where the logs were tumbling along.</p> + +<p>“And there’s nothing to keep me here any longer, Mr. Latisan, now that +you have come back!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>He faced her again, swinging with a haste that ground his heels sharply +on the ledge. But she put up her hand when he opened his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Do you think it will do us any good to bring up what has happened? I +don’t. I implore you not to mention it. You have come back to your +work—it’s waiting for you. After what you have done to-day you’ll never +need to lower your eyes before any man on this river. In my heart, when +I gave you your cap and jacket, I was asking you to take back your work. +I ask you with all the earnestness that’s in me! Won’t you do it?” There +was a hint of a sob in her tones, but her eyes were full of the +confidence of one who felt that she was not asking vainly.</p> + +<p>He did not hesitate. But words were still beyond the reach of his +tongue. He dragged off the billycock hat which he had bought in town and +scaled it far out into the turbid flood. He pulled off the wrinkled coat +of the ready-made suit and tossed it down the side of the cliff. With +the cap on his head and buckling the belt of the jacket he stood before +her. “The men gave me my chance to-day; you’re giving me a bigger one.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’m only wasting your time—up here!”</p> + +<p>It had not been in Latisan’s mind that he would make any reference to +the past; she had implored him to keep silent and he was determined to +obey. He was rigidly resolved to offer no plea for the future; this was +the granddaughter—presumably the heiress of Echford Flagg, to be taken +into her own after this service she had rendered. A Latisan of the +broken Latisans had no right to lift his eyes to her!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>If there had been a twinkle of hope for his comfort in her attitude of +reliance on him after he had arrived at Skulltree, there was none at +that moment, for she had become distinctly dignified and distant. He +swung back to that bitter conclusion which he had made a part of his +convictions when he had pondered on the matter in his little room in New +York—her frantically pledged affection had been only a part of her +campaign of sacrifice. He was not blaming her for the pretense—he was +not calling it deceit. She had fought for her own with such weapons as +she could command in a time of stress.</p> + +<p>He followed her meekly when she hurried down from the cliff.</p> + +<p>On the path which led back to the Flagg camp a breathless cookee met +them. “A team is here from Adonia, miss. It’s the big bays—Mr. Flagg’s +horses.”</p> + +<p>Instinctively she turned to Ward, making him her prop as she had done +previously on that day.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been expecting it,” he told her. “It’s just what your grandfather +would do after he got word that Craig had gone through Adonia with his +roughnecks. Mr. Flagg wouldn’t leave you here to face what was +threatened.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t tell my grandfather who I was. Dick promised to keep the +secret,” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Remember! Words have wings up in this region! I explained to you once, +Miss Kennard, and you know what happened when I let loose that flock of +them at Adonia—like a fool. I don’t dare to think about it!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>He paced away from her; then he returned, calm again. “Mr. Flagg must +have heard—he would keep in touch with what has been going on up +here—and after he knew, it would be his style to let you go ahead and +win out. He would understand what it is you’re trying to do. His sending +that team, now that he is afraid of danger, proves that he knows.”</p> + +<p>When she ran on ahead Latisan did not try to keep up with her; he was +once again the drive boss of Flagg’s crew, a hired man; he had no excuse +for meddling in the family affairs of his employers, he reflected, and +in his new humility he was avoiding anything which might savor of +inquisitive surveillance.</p> + +<p>The man who had put the horses to the jumper in Adonia, the man whom she +knew as Jeff, was the deputy whom Flagg had sent. He had come in +haste—that was plain to her; he was mopping the flanks of the sweating +bays.</p> + +<p>The deference with which he touched his cap informed her fully as to the +amount of knowledge possessed by the Flagg household. He unbuttoned, one +after the other, his overcoat, his inner coat, his waistcoat, and from +the deepest recess in his garments produced a sealed letter; his +precautions in regard to it attested the value he put on a communication +from the master to the master’s granddaughter.</p> + +<p>The envelope was blank.</p> + +<p>The men of the shift that had been relieved stood about her in a circle. +The arrival of the bays was an event which matched the other sensational +happenings of the crowded day, and she was conscious that, without +meaning to be disrespectful, the men were han<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>kering to be taken wholly +into her confidence—were expecting that much favor from her.</p> + +<p>Granddaughter of Echford Flagg she might be—but more than all she was +one of the crew, that season, a companion who had inspired them, toiled +with them, and triumphed with them. If any more good news had come they, +as friends, were entitled to know it, their expressions told her. They +were distinctly conveying to her their notion that she should stand +there and read the letter aloud.</p> + +<p>The hand which clutched the missive was trembling, and she was filled +with dread in spite of the consoling thought that she had achieved so +much. She was afraid to open the letter and she escaped out of the +circle of inquiring faces and hid herself in her tent; even the crude +flourish of importance displayed by the manner of Jeff in delivering the +communication to her had its effect in making her fears more profound. +The whims of old age—Flagg had dwelt on the subject! She remembered +that when she was in the big house with Latisan, her grandfather had +beat on the page of the Bible and had anathematized the ties of family +in his arraignment of faults. He had been kind, after his fashion, when +she was incognito, but now that he <span class="nowrap">knew——</span></p> + +<p>She ripped the envelope from the letter and opened the sheet; it was a +broad sheet and had been folded many times to make it fit the envelope.</p> + +<p>It was more like rude print than handwriting. At first she thought that +her grandfather had been able to master a makeshift chirography with his +left hand. But boldly at the top of the sheet, as a preface of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>apology, +was this statement: “Dicktated to Dick and excuse looks and mesteaks. +Hese a poor tool at writtin.”</p> + +<p>Crouching on her bed of boughs, the sheet on her knees, her hands +clutched into her wind-rumpled hair above her temples, she read the +letter which her grandfather had contrived with the help of his drafted +amanuensis.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p>To my Grand-daughter. He have to use short words and few. Dick +is slow and can’t spel.</p> +</div> + +<p>Lida’s thoughts were running parallel with her reading, and she +remembered that, in those letters of hideous arraignment which she had +found in her mother’s effects, Echford Flagg’s own spelling was +fantastically original. But under the layers of ugly malediction she had +found pathos: he said that he’d had no schooling of his own, and on that +account had been led to turn his business over to the better but +dishonest ability of Alfred Kennard.</p> + +<p>Reading on, she could picture the scene—the two old men toiling with +pathetic earnestness over the task of preparing that letter; here and +there, the words only partially deleted by lines run across them, were +evidences that in his flustration under the master’s vitriolic +complaints, old Dick had confused comment with dictated matter—and had +included comment in his unthinking haste to get everything down. Three +times a “Dam your pelt” had been written and crossed out.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p>He tell you I knew you when I gave you my old cant dog.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>Lida gasped when she read the blunt declaration. She might have guessed +that Echford Flagg would have repulsed a stranger; he had disguised his +true sentiments under the excuse of an old man’s whim!</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p>I let you go. It was making a squair deal between you and me. +Nicola sent me a man to tell me how you had gorn north with his +men and so I took Dick back after I had fired him.</p> +</div> + +<p>It was at this point that a particularly prominent “Dam your pelt” was +interjected.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p>The old fool would have blabbed to me what you told him to keep +quiet about. He aint fit to be trusted with any secrits. But he +was scard to tell me you was Lida. I told him. But the Comas +helyun has gorn past here with men and guns. Let him have the +logs. I want you, my granddaughter. Come home.</p> +</div> + +<p>Tears flooded her eyes. “Come home!” Old Dick had printed those words in +bold letters.</p> + +<div class="block"> +<p>This is in haist but he has been 2 hours writtin it and so +I send Jeff to bring you. Dont wait. Kepe away from danjur. +Come home.</p> +</div> + +<p>And old Dick, the toiling scribe, had smuggled in at the bottom of the +sheet a postscript, a vicarious confession which Echford Flagg did not +know how to make, “Hese cryin and monein for you. Come home!”</p> + +<p>It was as if those two summoning words were spoken in her ear, +plaintively and quaveringly.</p> + +<p>She ran from the tent, carrying her little bag and the cant dog scepter +of the Flaggs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>“Can you start back at once?” she called to Jeff.</p> + +<p>“Aye! It’s orders.”</p> + +<p>She saw Latisan at the shore, directing the movements of the men; he was +once more the drive master, his cant dog in his hand, terse in his +commands, obeyed in his authority.</p> + +<p>He pulled off his cap and walked to meet her when she hastened toward +him.</p> + +<p>“I’m going back to Adonia.”</p> + +<p>“My guess was right, you see!”</p> + +<p>“Are you coming soon to report?—Shall I tell my <span class="nowrap">grandfather——”</span> She +halted in her query as if she were regretting the eagerness in her tone.</p> + +<p>“I’ll leave it to you to tell him all that has happened up here. But you +may say to him, if you will, that I’m staying with the drive from now +on.”</p> + +<p>Her charioteer swung the big bays and headed them toward the mouth of +the tote road, halting them near her.</p> + +<p>Her emotions were struggling from the fetters with which she tried to +bind them. Those men standing around! She wished they would go away +about their business, but they surveyed her with the satisfied air of +persons who felt that they belonged in all matters that were on foot.</p> + +<p>Latisan was repressed, grave, keeping his place, as he had assigned a +status to himself. She was glad when old Vittum broke upon the silence +that had become embarrassing. “It won’t be like what it has been, after +you’re gone, Miss Lida Kennard. But I feel that I’m speaking for the men +when I say that you’re entitled to a lay-off, and if you’ll be out on +the hill <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>where you can wave your hand to us when we ride the leader +logs into the hold-boom, we’ll all be much obligated to you! I was +thinking of calling for three cheers, but I remember how this idea +seemed to hit better.” He led the procession of men past her; they +scrubbed their toil-roughened palms across their breasts and gave her +silent pledges when they grasped her hand. “It’s sort of a family +party,” said Vittum.</p> + +<p>There was inspiration for her in that suggestion. This was no time for +convention, for placid weighing of this consideration against that, for +strait-laced repression. The environment encouraged her. Her exulting +joy drove her on.</p> + +<p>Once before, forced by the intensity of her need, she had made small +account of convenances. But she acknowledged that a half truth had +nearly compassed destruction of her hopes and the ruin of a man; a liar +had taken advantage of an equivocal position. But now the whole truth +about her was clear. Her identity was known—her motives were beyond all +question. And there were no vindictive liars among those loyal followers +who had come storming down the river for the sake of her cause.</p> + +<p>If she did what she had in her mind to do, what was it except the +confirmation of a pledge and the carrying out of a promise?</p> + +<p>But when she looked appealingly up at Latisan he was steadfastly staring +past her. Her impulses were already galloping, but the instant prick of +pique was the final urge which made the impulses fairly run away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>She reached out and took Ward’s hand and pressed it between her palms.</p> + +<p>“If it’s because I’m Lida Kennard instead of the table girl at Brophy’s +tavern, you’re foolish,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe. “I gave you +my promise. But perhaps you think it isn’t binding because there was no +seal, such as I put on that lawyer’s paper down at the dam. +Well—then—here’s the seal.”</p> + +<p>She flung her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>“Now let the winged word take flight through the region!” she told +herself. No man could misunderstand the declaration of that kiss!</p> + +<p>When Latisan came to his senses sufficiently to move his muscles, she +avoided his groping arms and ran to the wagon. For a moment the big bays +crouched, expecting the whistling sweep of the whip, bending their necks +to watch the passenger climbing to her seat.</p> + +<p>“Wait!” begged Latisan. He stumbled toward the wagon, staring at her, +tripped by the earth ridges to which he paid no heed.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” she promised. And then in tones that were low and thrilling and +significant with honest pledge she said, “I’ll wait for you—at home—at +home!”</p> + +<p>Jeff obeyed her quick command and swung the whistling whip, and Latisan +stood gazing after her.</p> + +<p>The men respected his stunned absorption in his thoughts. They went +scattering to their work. Felix walked with Vittum.</p> + +<p>“Ba gor!” The French Canadian vented the ejacu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>lation after taking a +deep breath. “When she say it to him—as she say it—it make goose flesh +wiggle all over maself!”</p> + +<p>“As I have said!” Vittum was trudging along, his eyes on a big plug of +tobacco from which he was paring a slice. “As I have said!” He slid the +slice into his mouth from the blade of the knife. “She knows her +business!”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22667-h.txt or 22667-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/6/22667">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/6/22667</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. 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