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diff --git a/41712-0.txt b/41712-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..28e8824 --- /dev/null +++ b/41712-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6618 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41712 *** + + CONNIE MORGAN + IN THE + LUMBER CAMPS + + BY + + JAMES B. HENDRYX + AUTHOR OF "CONNIE MORGAN IN ALASKA," "CONNIE + MORGAN WITH THE MOUNTED" + + [Illustration] + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + The Knickerbocker Press + 1919 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1919 + BY + JAMES B. HENDRYX + + The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +[Illustration] + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I.--CONNIE MORGAN GOES "OUTSIDE" 1 + + II.--HURLEY 14 + + III.--INTO THE WOODS 28 + + IV.--CONNIE TAMES A BEAR-CAT 45 + + V.--HURLEY LAYS OUT THE NEW CAMP 58 + + VI.--THE I. W. W. SHOWS ITS HAND 69 + + VII.--THE PRISONERS 89 + + VIII.--THE BOSS OF CAMP TWO 103 + + IX.--SAGINAW ED IN THE TOILS 114 + + X.--CONNIE DOES SOME TRAILING 129 + + XI.--CONNIE FINDS AN ALLY 145 + + XII.--SHADING THE CUT 162 + + XIII.--SAGINAW ED HUNTS A CLUE 175 + + XIV.--A PAIR OF SOCKS 192 + + XV.--HURLEY PREPARES FOR THE DRIVE 204 + + XVI.--SLUE FOOT "COMES ACROSS" 217 + + XVII.--HEINIE METZGER 235 + + XVIII.--CONNIE SELLS SOME LOGS 255 + + XIX.--THE UNMASKING OF SLUE FOOT MAGEE 277 + + XX.--CONNIE DELIVERS HIS LOGS 292 + + + + +[Illustration] + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + Hurley 8 + + Mike Gillum took Connie to the river where miles of + booms held millions of feet of logs 23 + + "Come on, tell them what you told them a minute ago" 55 + + Swiftly the boy followed the tracks to the point + where the man had struck into the clearing 131 + + The boy hastened unnoticed to the edge of a crowd + of men that encircled Frenchy Lamar 134 + + "What in the name of time be you doin' here?" + exclaimed Saginaw 150 + + "Phy don't yez tell me oi'm a big liar?" he roared 167 + + "Phwat d'yez want?" he whined 178 + + "What's this?" asked the boy, pushing up a small + bundle 193 + + Slue Foot turned. "Think y're awful smart, don't + ye?" 232 + + He leaned back in his chair and stared at Connie + through his glasses, as one would examine a + specimen at the zoo 251 + + Very gingerly he donned the garments and for some + moments stood and viewed himself in the mirror 265 + + Hurley had remained at the Upper Camp, and as the + drive at last began to thin out, he came floating + down, standing erect upon a huge log 299 + + Connie placed his hand affectionately upon the arm + of the big boss who stood at his side grinning + broadly 309 + + + + +Connie Morgan in the Lumber Camps + + + + +CHAPTER I + +CONNIE MORGAN GOES "OUTSIDE" + + +[Illustration] + +With an exclamation of impatience, Waseche Bill pushed a formidable +looking volume from him and sat, pen in hand, scowling down at the sheet +of writing paper upon the table before him. "I done give fo' dollahs fo' +that dictionary down to Faihbanks an' it ain't wo'th fo' bits!" + +"What's the matter with it?" grinned Connie Morgan, glancing across the +table into the face of his partner. + +"The main matteh with it is that it ain't no good. It's plumb full of a +lot of wo'ds that no one wouldn't know what yo' was talkin' about if yo' +said 'em, an' the common ones a man has got some use fo' is left out." + +"What word do you want? I learned to spell quite a lot of words in +school." + +"Gillum." + +"What?" + +"Gillum--I want to write a letteh to Mike Gillum. They ain't no betteh +man nowheahs than Mike. He's known all along the Tanana an' in the +loggin' woods outside, an' heah's this book that sets up to show folks +how to spell, an' it cain't even spell Mike Gillum." + +Connie laughed. "Gillum is a proper name," he explained, "and +dictionaries don't print proper names." + +"They might a heap betteh leave out some of the impropeh an' redic'lous +ones they've got into 'em, then, an' put in some of the propeh ones. I +ain't pleased with that book, nohow. It ain't no good. It claims fo' to +show how to spell wo'ds, an' when yo' come to use it yo' got to know +how to spell the wo'd yo' huntin' fo' oah yo' cain't find it. The only +wo'ds yo' c'n find when yo' want 'em is the ones yo' c'n spell anyhow, +so what's the use of findin' 'em?" + +"But, there's the definitions. It tells you what the words mean." + +Waseche Bill snorted contemptuously. "What they mean!" he exclaimed. +"Well, if yo' didn't know what they mean, yo' wouldn't be wantin' to use +them, nohow, an' yo' wouldn't care a doggone how they was spelt, noah if +they was spelt at all oah not. Fact is, I didn't give the matteh no +thought when I bought it. If it had be'n a big deal I wouldn't have be'n +took in, that way. In the hotel at Faihbanks, it was, when I was comin' +in. The fellow I bought it off of seemed right pleased with the book. +Why, he talked enough about it to of sold a claim. I got right tired +listenin' to him, so I bought it. But, shucks, I might of know'd if the +book had be'n any good he wouldn't have be'n so anxious to get red of +it." + +"Where is this Mike Gillum?" Connie asked, as he folded a paper and +returned it to a little pile of similar papers that lay before him on +the table. + +"I don't jest recollec' now, but I got the place copied down in my +notebook. It's some town back in Minnesota." + +"Minnesota!" + +"Yes. Fact is we be'n so blamed busy all summeh right heah in Ten Bow, +I'd plumb forgot about ouh otheh interests, till the nippy weatheh done +reminded me of 'em." + +"I didn't know we had any other interests," smiled the boy. + +"It's this way," began Waseche Bill, as he applied a match to his pipe +and settled back in his chair. "When I was down to the hospital last +fall they brought in a fellow fo' an operation an' put him in the room +next to mine. The first day he stuck his nose out the do', I seen it was +Mike Gillum--we'd prospected togetheh oveh on the Tanana, yeahs back, +an' yo' bet yo' boots I was glad to see someone that had been up heah in +the big country an' could talk sensible about it without askin' a lot of +fool questions about what do the dawgs drink in winteh if everythin's +froze up? An' ain't we afraid we'll freeze to death? An' how high is the +mountains? An' did you know my mother's cousin that went up to Alaska +after gold in '98? While he was gettin' well, we had some great old +powwows, an' he told me how he done got sick of prospectin' an' went +back to loggin'. He's a fo'man, now, fo' some big lumbeh syndicate in +one of theih camps up in no'the'n Minnesota." + +"One day we was settin' a smokin' ouh pipes an' he says to me, +'Waseche,' he says, 'you've got the dust to do it with, why don't you +take a li'l flyeh in timbeh?' I allowed minin' was mo' in my line, an' +he says, 'That's all right, but this heah timbeh business is a big +proposition, too. Jest because a man's got one good thing a-goin', ain't +no sign he'd ort to pass up anotheh. It's this way,' he says: 'Up to'ds +the haid of Dogfish Riveh, they's a four-thousand-acre tract of timbeh +that's surrounded on three sides by the Syndicate holdin's. Fo' yeahs +the Syndicate's be'n tryin' to get holt of this tract, but the man that +owns it would die befo' he'd let 'em put an axe to a stick of it. They +done him dirt some way a long time ago an' he's neveh fo'got it. He +ain't got the capital to log it, an' he won't sell to the Syndicate. But +he needs the money, an' if some private pahty come along that would take +it off his hands an' agree to neveh sell it to the Syndicate, he could +drive a mighty good ba'gain. I know logs,' Mike says, 'an' I'm tellin' +yo' there ain't a betteh strip of timbeh in the State.' + +"'Why ain't no one grabbed it befo'?' I asks. + +"'Because this heah McClusky that owns it is a mighty suspicious ol' +man, an' he's tu'ned down about a hund'ed offehs because he know'd they +was backed by the Syndicate.' + +"'Maybe he'd tu'n down mine, if I'd make him one,' I says. + +"Mike laughed. 'No,' he says, 'spite of the fact that I'm one of the +Syndicate's fo'men, ol' man McClusky takes my wo'd fo' anything I tell +him. Him an' my ol' dad come oveh f'om Ireland togetheh. I'd go a long +ways around to do ol' Mac a good tu'n, an' he knows it. Fact is, it's me +that put him wise that most of the offehs he's had come from the +Syndicate--my contract with 'em callin' fo' handlin' loggin' crews, an' +not helpin' 'em skin folks out of their timbeh. If I'd slip the we'd to +Mac to sell to you, he'd sell.'" + +Waseche refilled his pipe, and Connie waited eagerly for his big partner +to proceed. "Well," continued the man, "he showed me how it was an awful +good proposition, so I agreed to take it oveh. I wanted Mike should come +in on it, but he wouldn't--Mike's squah as a die, an' he said his +contract has got three mo' yeahs to run, an' it binds him not to engage +in no private business oah entehprise whateveh while it's in fo'ce. + +"Befo'e Mike left the hospital he sent fo' McClusky, an' we closed the +deal. That was last fall, an' I told Mike that as long as the timbeh was +theah, I might's well staht gettin' it out. He wa'ned me to keep my eye +on the Syndicate when I stahted to layin' 'em down, but befo'e he'd got +a chance to give me much advice on the matteh, theah come a telegram fo' +him to get to wo'k an' line up his crew an' get into the woods. Befo'e +he left, though, he said he'd send me down a man that might do fo' a +fo'man. Said he couldn't vouch for him no mo'n that he was a tiptop +logman, an' capable of handlin' a crew in the woods. So he come, Jake +Hurley, his name is, an' he's a big red Irishman. I didn't jest like his +looks, an' some of his talk, but I didn't know wheah to get anyone else +so I took a chance on him an' hired him to put a crew into the woods an' +get out a small lot of timbeh." Waseche Bill crossed the room and, +unlocking a chest, tossed a packet of papers onto the table. "It's all +in theah," he said grimly. "They got out quite a mess of logs, an' in +the spring when they was drivin' 'em down the Dogfish Riveh, to get 'em +into the Mississippi, they fouled a Syndicate drive. When things got +straightened out, we was fo'teen thousan' dollahs to the bad." + +The little clock ticked for a long time while Connie carefully examined +the sheaf of papers. After a while he looked up. "Why, if it hadn't been +for losing our logs we would have cleaned up a good profit!" he +exclaimed. + +[Illustration: HURLEY] + +Waseche Bill nodded. "Yes--if. But the fact is, we didn't clean up no +profit, an' we got the tract on ouh hands with no one to sell it to, +cause I passed ouh wo'd I wouldn't sell it--o' co'se McClusky couldn't +hold us to that acco'din' to law, but I reckon, he won't have to. I got +us into this heah mess unbeknownst to you, so I'll jest shouldeh the +loss, private, an'----" + +"You'll _what!_" interrupted Connie, wrathfully. And then grinned +good-humouredly as he detected the twinkle in Waseche Bill's eye. + +"I said, I c'n get a raise out of yo' any time I'm a mind to try, cain't +I?" + +"You sure can," laughed the boy. "But just so you don't forget it, we +settled this partnership business for good and all, a couple of years +ago." + +Waseche nodded as he glanced affectionately into the face of the boy. +"Yes, son, I reckon that's done settled," he answered, gravely. "But the +question is, now we ah into this thing, how we goin' to get out?" + +"Fight out, of course!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes flashing. "The first +thing for us to find out is, whether the fouling of that drive was +accidental or was done purposely. And why we didn't get what was coming +to us when the logs were sorted." + +"I reckon that's done settled, as fah as _knowin'_ it's conse'ned. +Provin' it will be anotheh matteh." He produced a letter from his +pocket. "This come up in the mail," he said. "It's from Mike Gillum. +Mike, he writes a middlin' sho't letteh, but he says a heap. It was +wrote from Riverville, Minnesota, on July the tenth." + + "FRIEND WASECHE: + + "Just found out Hurley is on pay roll of the Syndicate. Look + alive. + + "MIKE." + +"Double crossed us," observed the boy, philosophically. + +"Yes, an' the wo'st of it is, he wouldn't sign up without a two-yeah +contract. Said some yeahs a boss has bad luck an' he'd ort to be give a +chance to make good." + +"I'm glad of it," said Connie. "I think he'll get his chance, all +right." + +Waseche looked at his small partner quizzically. "What do yo' mean?" he +asked. + +"Let's go to bed. It's late," observed the boy, evasively. "Maybe in the +morning we'll have it doped out." + +At breakfast the following morning Connie looked at Waseche Bill, and +Waseche looked at Connie. "I guess it's up to me," smiled the boy. + +"Yo' mean----?" + +"I mean that the only way to handle this case is to handle it from the +bottom up. First we've got to get this Jake Hurley with the goods, and +when we've got him out of the way, jump in and show the Syndicate that +they've run up against an outfit it don't pay to monkey with. That +timber is ours, and we're going to have it!" + +"That sums the case right pert as fa' as talkin' goes, but how we goin' +to do it? If we go down theah an' kick Hurley out, we've got to pay him +fo' a whole winteh's wo'k he ain't done an' I'd hate to do that. We +don't neitheh one of us know enough about loggin' to run the camp, an' +if we was to hunt up anotheh fo'man, chances is he'd be as bad as +Hurley, mebbe wo'se." + +"There's no use in both of us going. You're needed here, and besides +there wouldn't be much you could do if you were there. Hurley don't know +me, and I can go down and get enough on him by spring to put him away +where he can think things over for a while. I've just finished a year's +experience in handling exactly such characters as he is." + +Waseche Bill grinned. "I met up with Dan McKeeveh comin' in," he said. +"From what I was able to getheh, heahin' him talk, I reckon they cain't +be many bad men left oveh on the Yukon side." + +"Dan was prejudiced," laughed Connie. "I did just what any one else +would have done--what good men any place you put 'em have _got_ to do, +or they wouldn't be good men. After I'd found out what had to be done, I +figured out the most sensible way of doing it, and then did it the best +I knew how. I haven't lived with men like you, and Dan, and MacDougall, +and the rest of the boys, for nothing----" + +"Jest yo' stick to that way of doin', son, an', I reckon, yo'll find +it's about all the Bible yo'll need. But, about this heah trip to the +outside. I sho' do hate to have yo' go down theh, so fah away from +anywhehs. S'posin' somethin' should happen to yo'. Why, I don't reckon I +eveh would get oveh blamin' myself fo' lettin' yo' go." + +"Any one would think I was a girl," smiled the boy. "But I guess if I +can take care of myself up here, I can handle anything I'll run up +against outside." + +"What do yo' aim to do when yo' get theah?" + +"The first thing to do will be to hunt up Mike Gillum and have a talk +with him. After that--well, after that, I'll know what to do." + +Waseche Bill regarded the boy thoughtfully as he passed his fingers +slowly back and forth along his stub-bearded jaw. "I reckon yo' will, +son," he said, "from what I know of yo', an' what Dan done tol' me, +comin' in, I jest reckon yo' will." + +When Connie Morgan made up his mind to do a thing he went ahead and did +it. Inside of a week the boy had packed his belongings, bid good-bye to +Ten Bow, and started upon the journey that was to take him far from his +beloved Alaska, and plunge him into a series of adventures that were to +pit his wits against the machinations of a scheming corporation. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HURLEY + + +With a long-drawn whistle the great trans-continental train ground to a +stop at a tiny town that consisted simply of a red painted depot, a huge +water tank, and a dozen or more low frame houses, all set in a little +clearing that was hardly more than a notch in one of the parallel walls +of pine that flanked the railroad. The coloured porter glanced +contemptuously out of the window and grumbled at the delay. The +conductor, a dapper little man of blue cloth and brass buttons, bustled +importantly down the aisle and disappeared through the front door. +Connie raised his window and thrust his head out. Other heads protruded +from the long line of coaches, and up in front men were swinging from +the platforms to follow the trainmen who were hurrying along the sides +of the cars. Connie arose and made his way forward. Two days and nights +in the cramped quarters of the car had irked the boy, used as he was to +the broad, open places, and it was with a distinct feeling of relief +that he stepped to the ground and breathed deeply of the pine-scented +air. + +Upon a siding stood several flat cars onto which a dozen or more roughly +dressed men were busily loading gear and equipment under the eye of a +massive-framed giant of a man in a shirt of brilliant red flannel, who +sat dangling his legs from the brake wheel of the end car. A stubble of +red beard covered the man's undershot jaw. The visor of a greasy plush +cap, pushed well back upon his head, disclosed a shock of red hair that +nearly met the shaggy eyebrows beneath which a pair of beady eyes kept +tab on the movements of his crew. To the stalled train, and the people +who passed close beside him, the man gave no heed. + +Up ahead, some eight or ten rods in front of the monster engine that +snorted haughty impatience to be gone, Connie saw the cause of the +delay. A heavy, underslung logging wagon was stalled directly upon the +tracks, where it remained fixed despite the efforts of the four big +horses that were doing their utmost to move it in response to a loud +string of abusive epithets and the stinging blows of a heavy whip which +the driver wielded with the strength of a husky arm. A little knot of +men collected about the wagon, and the driver, abandoning his vain +attempt to start the load, addressed the crowd in much the same language +he had used toward the horses. The train conductor detached himself from +the group and hurried toward the flat cars. + +"Hey, you," he piped, "are you the boss of this crew?" + +The huge man upon the brake wheel paid him no heed, but bawled a profane +reprimand for the misplacing of a coil of wire line. + +"Hey, you, I say!" The little conductor was fairly dancing impatience. +"You, Red Shirt! Are you the boss?" + +The wire line having been shifted to suit him, the other condescended to +glare down into the speaker's face. "I be--what's loose with you?" + +"Get that wagon off the track! You've held us up ten minutes already! +It's an outrage!" + +"Aw, go chase yersilf! Whad'ye s'pose I care av yer tin minutes late, er +tin hours? I've got trouble av me own." + +"You get that wagon moved!" shrilled the conductor. "You're obstructing +the United States mail, and I guess you know what that means!" + +Reference to the mail evidently had its effect upon the boss, for he +very deliberately clambered to the ground and made his way leisurely +toward the stalled wagon. "Give 'em the gad, ye wooden head! What ye +standin' there wid yer mout' open fer?" + +Once more the driver plied his heavy lash and the big horses strained to +the pull. But it was of no avail. + +"They can't pull it, it ain't any good to lick 'em," remonstrated the +engineer. "A couple of you boys climb up and throw some of that stuff +off. We can't wait here all day." + +The fireman and the brakeman started toward the load, but were +confronted by the glowering boss. "Ye'll lay off a couple av trips while +they fan ye back to life, av ye try ut!" he roared. The men turned back, +and the boss addressed the engineer. "You try ut yersilf, av ye're +lookin' fer a nice little lay-off in the hospital. Av ye lay here all +day an' all night, too, ye've got no wan but yer company to thank. Who +was ut put them rotten planks in that crossin'?" + +The engineer possessed a certain diplomacy that the conductor did not. + +"Sure, it's the company's fault. Any one can see that. They've got no +business putting such rotten stuff into their crossings. I didn't want +to butt in on you, boss, but if you'll just tell us what to do we'll +help you get her out of there." + +The boss regarded him with suspicion, but the engineer was smiling in a +friendly fashion, and the boss relented a little. "Mostly, ut's the +company's fault, but partly ut's the fault av that blockhead av a +teamster av mine. He ain't fit to drive a one-horse phaeton fer an owld +woman's home." While the boss talked he eyed the stalled wagon +critically. "Come over here, a couple av you sleepwalkers!" he called, +and when the men arrived from the flat cars, he ripped out his orders +almost in a breath. "Git a plank befront that hind wheel to ride ut over +the rail! You frog-eater, there, that calls yersilf a teamster--cramp +them horses hard to the right! Freeze onto the spokes now, ye sons av +rest, an' ROLL 'ER!" Once more the big horses threw their weight into +the traces, and the men on the wheels lifted and strained but the wagon +held fast. For a single instant the boss looked on, then with a growl +he leaped toward the wagon. + +"Throw the leather into 'em, Frenchy! Make thim leaders pull up!" +Catching the man on the offending hind wheel by the shoulder he sent him +spinning to the side of the track, and stooping, locked his thick +fingers about a spoke, set his great shoulder against the tire and with +legs spread wide, heaved upward. The load trembled, hesitated an +instant, and moved slowly, the big boss fairly lifting the wheel up the +short incline. A moment later it rolled away toward the flat cars, +followed by the boss and his crew. + +"Beef and bluff," grinned Connie to himself as the crowd of passengers +returned to the coaches. + +Connie found Mike Gillum busily stowing potatoes in an underground root +cellar. "He's almost as big as the man with the red shirt," thought the +boy as he watched Mike read the note Waseche Bill had given him before +he left Ten Bow. + +The man paused in the middle to stare incredulously at the boy. "D'ye +mane," he asked, in his rich Irish brogue, "thot ut's yersilf's the +pardner av Waseche Bill--a kid loike you, the pardner av _him_?" + +Connie laughed; and unconsciously his shoulders stiffened. "Yes," he +answered proudly, "we've been partners for two years." + +Still the man appeared incredulous. "D'ye mane ye're the wan thot he wuz +tellin' thrailed him beyant the Ogilvies into the Lillimuit? An' put in +the time whilst he wuz in the hospital servin' wid the Mounted? Moind +ye, lad, Oi've be'n in the Narth mesilf, an' Oi know summat av it's +ways." + +"Yes, but maybe Waseche bragged me up more than----" + +Mike Gillum interrupted him by thrusting forth a grimy hand. "Br-ragged +ye up, is ut! An-ny one thot c'n do the things ye've done, me b'y, don't +nade no braggin' up. Ut's proud Oi am to know ye--Waseche towld me ye +wuz ondly a kid, but Oi had in me moind a shtrappin' young blade av +mebbe ut's twinty-foor or -five, not a wee shtrip av a lad loike ye. +Come on in the house till Oi wash up a bit, thim praties has got me back +fair bruk a'ready." + +The big Irishman would not hear of the boy's putting up at a hotel, and +after supper the two sat upon the foreman's little veranda that +overlooked the river and talked until far into the night. + +"So ye've got to kape yer oye on um, lad," the Irishman concluded, after +a long discourse upon the ins and outs, and whys and wherefores of the +logging situation on Dogfish. "Ut's mesilf'll give you all the help Oi +can, faylin' raysponsible fer sindin' him to Waseche. There's divilmint +in the air fer this winter. The Syndicate's goin' to put a camp on +Dogfish below ye, same as last winter. Oi've wor-rked fer um long enough +to know ut's only to buck you folks they're doin' ut, fer their plans +wuz not to do an-ny cuttin' on the Dogfish tract fer several years to +come. Whin Oi heard they wuz goin' to put a camp there Oi applied fer +the job av bossin' ut, but they towld me Oi wuz nayded over on Willow +River." Mike Gillum knocked the dottle from his pipe and grinned +broadly. "'Twuz a complimint they paid me," he said. "They know me loike +Oi know thim--av there's crooked wor-ruk to be done in a camp, they take +care that Oi ain't the boss av ut. But Willow River is only tin miles +back--due narth av the McClusky tract." + +[Illustration: MIKE GILLUM TOOK CONNIE TO THE RIVER WHERE MILES OF BOOMS +HELD MILLIONS OF FEET OF LOGS] + +The next morning Mike Gillum took Connie to the river where miles of +booms held millions of feet of logs which awaited their turn at the +sawmills whose black smoke belched from stacks at some distance +downstream where the river plunged over the apron of the dam in a mad +whirl of white water. + +"How can they tell which mill the logs are to go to?" asked the boy, as +he gazed out over the acres of boomed timber. + +"Each log carries uts mark, they're sorted in the river. We'll walk on +down where ye c'n see um jerked drippin' to the saws." + +"Does Hurley live here?" asked Connie, as the two followed the river +bank toward the dam. + +"Naw, he lives at Pine Hook, down the road a ways. Ut's about time he +wuz showin' up, though. He lays in his supplies an' fills in his crew +here. He towld me last spring he wuz goin' to run two camps this +winter." They were close above the dam and had to raise their voices to +make themselves heard above the roar of the water that dashed over the +apron. + +"Look!" cried Connie, suddenly, pointing toward a slender green canoe +that floated in the current at a distance of a hundred yards or so from +shore, and the same distance above the falls. "There's a woman in it and +she's in trouble!" The big Irishman looked, shading his eyes with his +hands. + +"She's losin' ground!" he exclaimed. "She's caught in the suck av the +falls!" The light craft was pointed upstream and the woman was paddling +frantically, but despite her utmost efforts the canoe was being drawn +slowly toward the brink of the white water apron. + +With a roar the big Irishman sprang to the water's edge and raced up the +bank toward a tiny wharf to which were tied several skiffs with their +oars in the locks. Connie measured the distance with his eye. "He'll +never make it!" he decided, and jerking off coat and shoes, rushed to +the water. "Keep paddling, ma'am!" he called at the top of his lungs, +and plunged in. With swift, sure strokes the boy struck out for the +canoe. The woman saw him coming and redoubled her efforts. + +"Come back, ye idiot!" bellowed a voice from the bank, but Connie did +not even turn his head. He had entered the water well upstream from the +little craft, and the current bore him down upon it as he increased his +distance from shore. A moment later he reached up and grasped the +gunwale. "Keep paddling!" he urged, as he drew himself slowly over the +bow, at the same time keeping the canoe in perfect balance. "Where's +your other paddle?" he shouted. + +"There's--only--this," panted the woman. + +"Give it here!" cried the boy sharply, "and lie flat in the bottom! +We've got to go over the dam!" + +"No, no, no!" shrieked the woman, "we'll be killed! Several----" + +With a growl of impatience, Connie wrenched the paddle from her hands. +"Lie down, or I'll knock you down!" he thundered, and with a moan of +terror the woman sank to the bottom of the canoe. Kneeling low, the boy +headed the frail craft for a narrow strip of water that presented an +unbroken, oily surface as it plunged over the apron. On either hand the +slope showed only the churning white water. Connie gave one glance +toward the bank where a little knot of men had collected, and the next +moment the canoe shot, head on, straight over the brink of the falls. +For an instant it seemed to hang suspended with half its length hanging +over, clear of the water. Then it shot downward to bury its bow in the +smother of boiling churning, white water at the foot of the apron. For +a moment it seemed to Connie as though the canoe were bound to be +swamped. It rolled loggily causing the water it had shipped to slosh +over the clothing and face of the limp form of the woman in the bottom. +The boy was afraid she would attempt to struggle free of it, but she lay +perfectly still. She had fainted. The canoe hesitated for a moment, +wobbling uncertainly, as the overroll at the foot of the falls held it +close against the apron, then it swung heavily into the grip of an eddy +and Connie at length succeeded in forcing it toward the bank, wallowing +so low in the water that the gunwales were nearly awash. + +Eager hands grasped the bow as it scraped upon the shore, and while the +men lifted the still form from the bottom, Connie slipped past them and +made his way to the place he had left his coat and shoes. + +Mike Gillum met him at the top of the bank. + +"Arrah! Me laddie, ut's a gr-rand thrick ye pulled! No wan but a +_tillicum_ av the Narth country c'ud of done ut! Oi see fer mesilf how +ut come ye're the pardner av Waseche Bill. Av Oi had me doubts about yer +bitin' off more thin ye c'ud chaw wid Hurley, Oi've got over 'em, now, +an'--" He stopped abruptly and glanced toward the river. "Shpakin' av +Hurley--there he comes, now!" he whispered, and Connie glanced up to see +a huge man advancing toward them at the head of a little group that +approached from the point where he had landed the canoe. The boy stared +in amazement--it was the red-shirted giant of the stalled wagon. + +"So that's Hurley," said he, quietly. "Well, here's where I strike him +for a job." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INTO THE WOODS + + +The upshot of Connie Morgan's interview with Hurley, the big red-shirted +camp boss, was that the boss hired him with the injunction to show up +bright and early the following morning, as the train that was to haul +the outfit to the Dogfish Spur would leave at daylight. + +"'Tiz a foine job ye've got--wor-rkin' f'r forty dollars a month in yer +own timber," grinned big Mike Gillum, as he packed the tobacco into the +bowl of his black pipe, when the two found themselves once more seated +upon the Syndicate foreman's little veranda at the conclusion of the +evening meal. + +Connie laughed. "Yes, but it will amount to a good deal more than forty +dollars a month if I can save the timber. We lost fourteen thousand +dollars last year because those logs got mixed. I don't see yet how he +worked it. You say the logs are all branded." + +"Who knows what brands he put on 'em? Or, wuz they branded at all? They +wuz sorted in th' big river but the drive was fouled in the Dogfish. +S'pose the heft of your logs wuz branded wid the Syndicate brand--or no +brand at all? The wans that wuz marked for the Syndicate w'd go to +Syndicate mills, an' the wans that wuzn't branded w'd go into the pool, +to be awarded pro raty to all outfits that had logs in the drive." + +"I'll bet the right brand will go onto them this year!" exclaimed the +boy. + +Mike Gillum nodded. "That's what ye're there for. But, don't star-rt +nawthin' 'til way along towards spring. Jake Hurley's a boss that can +get out the logs--an' that's what you want. Av ye wuz to tip off yer +hand too soon, the best ye c'd do w'd be to bust up the outfit wid +nawthin' to show f'r the season's expenses. Keep yer eyes open an' yer +mout' shut. Not only ye must watch Hurley, but keep an eye on the +scaler, an' check up the time book, an' the supplies--av course ye c'n +only do the two last av he puts ye to clerking, an' Oi'm thinkin' that's +what he'll do. Ut's either clerk or cookee f'r you, an most an-ny wan +w'd do f'r a cookee." + +The foreman paused, and Connie saw a twinkle in his eye as he continued: +"Ye see, sometimes a boss overestimates the number av min he's got +workin'. Whin he makes out the pay roll he writes in a lot av names av +min that's mebbe worked f'r him years back, an' is dead, or mebbe it's +just a lot av names av min that ain't lived yet, but might be born +sometime; thin whin pay day comes the boss signs the vouchers an' sticks +the money in his pockets. Moind ye, I ain't sayin' Hurley done that but +he'd have a foine chanct to, wid his owner way up in Alaska. An' now +we'll be goin' to bed f'r ye have to git up early. Oi'll be on Willow +River; av they's an-nything Oi c'n do, ye c'n let me know." + +Connie thanked his friend, and before he turned in, wrote a letter to +his partner in Ten Bow: + + "DEAR WASECHE: + + "I'm O.K. How are you? Got the job. Don't write. Mike Gillum is + O. K. See you in the spring. + + "Yours truly, + "C. MORGAN." + +Before daylight Connie was at the siding where the two flat cars loaded +at Pine Hook, and two box cars that contained the supplies and the +horses were awaiting the arrival of the freight train that was to haul +them seventy miles to Dogfish Spur. Most of the crew was there before +him. Irishmen, Norwegians, Swedes, Frenchmen, and two or three Indians, +about thirty-five in all, swarmed upon the cars or sat in groups upon +the ground. Hurley was here, there, and everywhere, checking up his +crew, and giving the final round of inspection to his supplies. + +A long whistle sounded, and the headlight of a locomotive appeared far +down the track. Daylight was breaking as the heavy train stopped to pick +up the four cars. Connie climbed with the others to the top of a box car +and deposited his turkey beside him upon the running board. The turkey +consisted of a grain sack tied at either end with a rope that passed +over the shoulder, and contained the outfit of clothing that Mike Gillum +had advised him to buy. The tops of the cars were littered with similar +sacks, their owners using them as seats or pillows. + +As the train rumbled into motion and the buildings of the town dropped +into the distance, the conductor made his way over the tops of the cars +followed closely by Hurley. Together they counted the men and the +conductor checked the count with a memorandum. Then he went back to the +caboose, and Hurley seated himself beside Connie. + +"Ever work in the woods?" he asked. + +"No." + +"Be'n to school much?" + +"Yes, some." + +"'Nough to figger up time books, an' keep track of supplies, an' set +down the log figgers when they're give to you?" + +"I think so." + +"Ye look like a smart 'nough kid--an' ye've got nerve, all right. I +tried to holler ye back when I seen ye swimmin' out to that canoe +yeste'day--I didn't think you could make it--that woman was a fool. +She'd ort to drownded. But, what I was gettin' at, is this: I'm a goin' +to put you to clerkin'. Clerkin' in a log camp is a good job--most +bosses was clerks onct. A clerk's s'posed to make hisself handy around +camp an' keep the books--I'll show you about them later. We're goin' in +early this year, 'cause I'm goin' to run two camps an' we got to lay +out the new one an' git it built. We won't start gittin' out no timber +for a month yet. I'll git things a goin' an' then slip down an' pick up +my crew." + +"Why, haven't you got your crew?" Connie glanced at the men who lay +sprawled in little groups along the tops of the cars. + +"Part of it. I'm fetchin' out thirty-five this time. That's 'nough to +build the new camp an' patch up the old one, but when we begin gittin' +out the logs, this here'll just about make a crew for the new camp. I +figger to work about fifty in the old one." + +"Do you boss both camps?" + +Hurly grinned. "Don't I look able?" + +"You sure do," agreed the boy, with a glance at the man's huge bulk. + +"They'll only be three or four miles apart, an' I'll put a boss in each +one, an' I'll be the walkin' boss." The cars jerked and swayed, as the +train roared through the jack pine country. + +"I suppose this was all big woods once," ventured the boy. + +"Naw--not much of it wasn't--not this jack pine and scrub spruce +country. You can gener'lly always tell what was big timber, an' what +wasn't. Pine cuttin's don't seed back to pine. These jack pines ain't +young pine--they're a different tree altogether. Years back, the +lumbermen wouldn't look at nawthin' but white pine, an' only the very +best of that--but things is different now. Yaller pine and spruce looks +good to 'em, an' they're even cuttin' jack pine. They work it up into +mine timbers, an' posts, an' ties, an' paper pulp. What with them an' +the pig iron loggers workin' the ridges, this here country'll grow up to +hazel brush, and berries, an' weeds, 'fore your hair turns grey." + +"What are pig iron loggers?" asked the boy. + +"The hardwood men. They git out the maple an' oak an' birch along the +high ground an' ridges--they ain't loggers, they jest think they are." + +"You said pine cuttings don't seed back to pine?" + +"Naw, it seems funny, but they don't. Old cuttin's grow up to popple and +scrub oak, like them with the red leaves, yonder; or else to hazel brush +and berries. There used to be a few patches of pine through this jack +pine country, but it was soon cut off. This here trac' we're workin' is +about as good as there is left. With a good crew we'd ort to make a big +cut this winter." + +The wheels pounded noisily at the rail ends as the boss's eyes rested +upon the men who sat talking and laughing among themselves. "An' +speakin' of crews, this here one's goin' to need some cullin'." He fixed +his eyes on the boy with a look almost of ferocity. "An' here's another +thing that a clerk does, that I forgot to mention: He hears an' sees a +whole lot more'n he talks. You'll bunk in the shack with me an' the +scaler--an' what's talked about in there's _our_ business--d'ye git me?" + +Connie returned the glance fearlessly. "I guess you'll know I can keep a +thing or two under my cap when we get better acquainted," he answered +The reply seemed to satisfy Hurley, who continued, + +"As I was sayin', they's some of them birds ain't goin' to winter +through in no camp of mine. See them three over there on the end of that +next car, a talkin' to theirselfs. I got an idee they're I. W. +W.'s--mistrusted they was when I hired 'em." + +"What are I. W. W.'s?" Connie asked. + +"They're a gang of sneakin' cutthroats that call theirselfs the +Industrial Workers of the World, though why they claim they're workers +is more'n what any one knows. They won't work, an' they won't let no one +else work. The only time they take a job is when they think there's a +chanct to sneak around an' put the kibosh on whatever work is goin' on. +They tell the men they're downtrod by capital an' they'd ort to raise up +an' kill off the bosses an' grab everything fer theirselfs. Alongside of +them birds, rattlesnakes an' skunks is good companions." + +"Aren't there any laws that will reach them?" + +"Naw," growled Hurley in disgust. "When they git arrested an' convicted, +the rest of 'em raises such a howl that capital owns the courts, an' the +judges is told to hang all the workin' men they kin, an' a lot of rot +like that, till the governors git cold feet an' pardon them. If the +government used 'em right, it'd outlaw the whole kaboodle of 'em. Some +governors has got the nerve to tell 'em where to head in at--Washington, +an' California, an' Minnesota, too, is comin' to it. They're gittin' in +their dirty work in the woods--but believe me, they won't git away with +nothin' in my camps! I'm just a-layin' an' a-honin' to tear loose on +'em. Them three birds over there is goin' to need help when I git +through with 'em." + +"Why don't you fire 'em now?" + +"Not me. I _want_ 'em to start somethin'! I want to git a crack at 'em. +There's three things don't go in my camps--gamblin', booze, an' I. W. +W.'s. I've logged from the State of Maine to Oregon an' halfways back. +I've saw good camps an' bad ones a-plenty, an' I never seen no trouble +in the woods that couldn't be charged up ag'in' one of them three." + +The train stopped at a little station and Hurley rose with a yawn. +"Guess I'll go have a look at the horses," he said, and clambered down +the ladder at the end of the car. + +The boss did not return when the train moved on and the boy sat upon the +top of the jolting, swaying box car and watched the ever changing woods +slip southward. Used as he was to the wide open places, Connie gazed +spellbound at the dazzling brilliance of the autumn foliage. Poplar and +birch woods, flaunting a sea of bright yellow leaves above white trunks, +were interspersed with dark thickets of scarlet oak and blazing sumac, +which in turn gave place to the dark green sweep of a tamarack swamp, +or a long stretch of scrubby jack pine. At frequent intervals squared +clearings appeared in the endless succession of forest growth, where +little groups of cattle browsed in the golden stubble of a field. A +prim, white painted farmhouse, with its big red barn and its setting of +conical grain stacks would flash past, and again the train would plunge +between the walls of vivid foliage, or roar across a trestle, or whiz +along the shore of a beautiful land-locked lake whose clear, cold waters +sparkled dazzlingly in the sunlight as the light breeze rippled its +surface. + +Every few miles, to the accompaniment of shrieking brake shoes, the +train would slow to a stop, and rumble onto a siding at some little flat +town, to allow a faster train to hurl past in a rush of smoke, and dust, +and deafening roar, and whistle screams. Then the wheezy engine would +nose out onto the main track, back into another siding, pick up a box +car or two, spot an empty at the grain spout of a sagging red-brown +elevator, and couple onto the train again with a jolt that threatened to +bounce the cars from the rails, and caused the imprisoned horses to +stamp and snort nervously. The conductor would wave his arm and, after +a series of preliminary jerks that threatened to tear out the drawbars, +the train would rumble on its way. + +At one of these stations a longer halt than usual was made while train +crew and lumberjacks crowded the counter of a slovenly little restaurant +upon whose fly swarming counter doughnuts, sandwiches, and pies of +several kinds reposed beneath inverted semispherical screens that served +as prisons for innumerable flies. + +"The ones that wiggles on yer tongue is flies, an' the ones that don't +is apt to be blueberries," explained a big lumberjack to Connie as he +bit hugely into a wedge of purplish pie. Connie selected doughnuts and a +bespeckled sandwich which he managed to wash down with a few mouthfuls +of mud-coloured coffee, upon the surface of which floated soggy grounds +and flakes of soured milk. + +"Flies is healthy," opined the greasy proprietor, noting the look of +disgust with which the boy eyed the filthy layout. + +"I should think they would be. You don't believe in starving them," +answered the boy, and a roar of laughter went up from the loggers who +proceeded to "kid" the proprietor unmercifully as he relapsed into +surly mutterings about the dire future in store for "fresh brats." + +During the afternoon the poplar and birch woods and the flaming patches +of scarlet oak and sumac, gave place to the dark green of pines. The +farms became fewer and farther between, and the distance increased +between the little towns, where, instead of grain elevators, appeared +dilapidated sawmills, whose saws had long lain idle. Mere ghosts of +towns, these, whose day had passed with the passing of the timber that +had been the sole excuse for their existence. But, towns whose few +remaining inhabitants doggedly clung to their homes and assured each +other with pathetic persistence, as they grubbed in the sandy soil of +their stump-studded gardens, that with the coming of the farmers the +town would step into its own as the centre of a wonderfully prosperous +agricultural community. Thus did the residents of each dead little town +believe implicitly in the future of their own town, and prophesy with +jealous vehemence the absolute decadence of all neighbouring towns. + +Toward the middle of the afternoon a boy, whom Connie had noticed +talking and laughing with the three lumberjacks Hurley suspected of +being I. W. W.'s, walked along the tops of the swaying cars and seated +himself beside him. Producing paper and tobacco he turned his back to +the wind and rolled a cigarette, which he lighted, and blew a cloud of +smoke into Connie's face. He was not a prepossessing boy, with his +out-bulging forehead and stooping shoulders. Apparently he was about two +years Connie's senior. + +"Want the makin's?" he snarled, by way of introduction. + +"No thanks. I don't smoke." + +The other favoured him with a sidewise glance. "Oh, you don't, hey? My +name's Steve Motley, an' I'm a bear-cat--_me!_ I'm cookee of this here +camp--be'n in the woods goin' on two years. Ever work in the woods?" + +Connie shook his head. "No," he answered, "I never worked in the woods." + +"Whatcha done, then? You don't look like no city kid." + +"Why, I've never done much of anything to speak of--just knocked around +a little." + +"Well, you'll knock around some more 'fore you git through this winter. +We're rough guys, us lumberjacks is, an' we don't like greeners. I +'spect though, you'll be runnin' home to yer ma 'fore snow flies. It +gits forty below, an' the snow gits three foot deep in the woods." +Connie seemed unimpressed by this announcement, and Steve continued: +"They say you're goin' to do the clerkin' fer the outfit. Hurley, he +wanted me to do the clerkin', but I wouldn't do no clerkin' fer no man. +Keep all them different kind of books an' git cussed up one side an' +down t'other fer chargin' 'em up with somethin' they claim they never +got out'n the wanagan. Not on yer life--all I got to do is help the +cook. We're gettin' clost to Dogfish Spur now, an' the camp's +twenty-seven mile off'n the railroad. Guess you won't feel lost nor +nothin' when you git so far back in the big sticks, hey?" + +Connie smiled. "That's an awfully long ways," he admitted. + +"You bet it is! An' the woods is full of wolves an' bears, an' bobcats! +If I was figgerin' on quittin' I'd quit 'fore I got into the timber." + +The train was slowing down, and Steve arose. "Y'ain't told me yer name, +greener! Y'better learn to be civil amongst us guys." + +Connie met the bullying look of the other with a smile. "My name is +Connie Morgan," he said, quietly, "and, I forgot to mention it, but I +did hold down one job for a year." + +"In the woods?" + +"Well, not exactly. Over across the line it was." + +"Acrost the line--in Canady? What was _you_ doin' in Canady?" + +"Taming 'bear-cats' for the Government," answered the boy, dryly, and +rose to his feet just as Hurley approached, making his way over the tops +of the cars. + +"You wait till I git holt of you!" hissed Steve, scowling. "You think +y're awful smart when y're around in under Hurley's nose. But I'll show +you how us guys handles the boss's pets when he ain't around." The boy +hurried away as Hurley approached. + +"Be'n gittin' in his brag on ye?" grinned the boss, as his eyes followed +the retreating back. "He's no good--all mouth. But he's bigger'n what +you be. If he tries to start anything just lam him over the head with +anything that's handy. He'll leave you be, onct he's found out you mean +business." + +"Oh, I guess we won't have any trouble," answered Connie, as he followed +Hurley to the ground. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CONNIE TAMES A BEAR-CAT + + +As the cars came to rest upon the spur, plank runways were placed in +position and the horses led to the ground and tied to trees. All hands +pitched into the work of unloading. Wagons appeared and were set up as +if by magic as, under the boss's direction, supplies and equipment were +hustled from the cars. + +"You come along with us," said Hurley, indicating a tote wagon into +which men were loading supplies. "I'm takin' half a dozen of the boys +out tonight to kind of git the camp in shape. It'll take four or five +days to haul this stuff an' you can help along till the teams start +comin', an' then you've got to check the stuff in. Here's your +lists--supplies on that one, and equipment on this. Don't O. K. nothin' +till it's in the storehouse or the cook's camp or wherever it goes to." + +Connie took the papers and, throwing his turkey onto the load, climbed +up and took his place beside the men. The teamster cracked his whip and +the four rangy horses started away at a brisk trot. + +For five miles or so, as it followed the higher ground of a hardwood +ridge, the road was fairly good, then it plunged directly into the pines +and after that there was no trotting. Mile after mile the horses plodded +on, the wheels sinking half-way to the hubs in the soft dry sand, or, in +the lower places, dropping to the axles into chuck holes and plowing +through sticky mud that fell from the spokes and felloes in great +chunks. Creeks were forded, and swamps crossed on long stretches of +corduroy that threatened momentarily to loosen every bolt in the wagon. +As the team swung from the hardwood ridge, the men leaped to the ground +and followed on foot. They were a cheerful lot, always ready to lend a +hand in helping the horses up the hill, or in lifting a wheel from the +clutch of some particularly bad chuck hole. Connie came in for a share +of good-natured banter, that took the form, for the most part, of +speculation upon how long he would last "hoofing it on shank's mares," +and advice as to how to stick on the wagon when he should get tired +out. The boy answered all the chafing with a smiling good humour that +won the regard of the rough lumberjacks as his tramping mile after mile +through the sand and mud without any apparent fatigue won their secret +admiration. + +"He's a game un," whispered Saginaw Ed, as he tramped beside Swede +Larson, whose pale blue eyes rested upon the back of the sturdy little +figure that plodded ahead of them. + +"Yah, ay tank hay ban' valk befoor. Hay ain' drag hees foot lak he gon' +for git tire out queek. Ay bat ju a tollar he mak de camp wit'out ride." + +"You're on," grinned Saginaw, "an', at that, you got an even break. I +can't see he's wobblin' none yet, an' it's only nine or ten miles to go. +I wished we had that wapple-jawed, cigarette-smokin' cookee along--I'd +like to see this un show him up." + +"Hay show ham up a'rat--ju yoost vait." + +Twilight deepened and the forest road became dim with black shadows. + +"The moon'll be up directly," observed Hurley, who was walking beside +Connie. "But it don't give none too much light, nohow, here in the +woods. I've got to go on ahead and pilot." + +"I'll go with you," said the boy, and Hurley eyed him closely. + +"Say, kid, don't let these here jay-hawkers talk ye inter walkin' +yerself to death. They don't like nawthin' better'n to make a greener +live hard. Let 'em yelp theirself hoarse an' when you git tuckered jest +you climb up beside Frenchy there an' take it easy. You got to git broke +in kind of slow to start off with an' take good care of yer feet." + +"Oh, I'm not tired. I like to walk," answered the boy, and grinned to +himself. "Wonder what he'd think if he knew about some of the trails +I've hit. I guess it would make his little old twenty-mile hike shrink +some." + +As they advanced into the timber the road became worse, and Connie, who +had never handled horses, wondered at the dexterity with which Frenchy +guided the four-horse tote-team among stumps and chuck holes, and steep +pitches. Every little way it was necessary for Hurley to call a halt, +while the men chopped a log, or a thick mat of tops from the road. It +was nearly midnight when the team swung into a wide clearing so +overgrown that hardly more than the roofs of the low log buildings +showed above the tops of the brambles and tall horseweed stalks. + +"All right, boys!" called the boss. "We won't bother to unload only what +we need for supper. Don't start no fire in the big range tonight. Here, +you, Saginaw, you play cook. You can boil a batch of tea and fry some +ham on the office stove--an' don't send no more sparks up the stovepipe +than what you need to. If fire got started in these weeds we'd have two +camps to build instead of one; Swede, you help Frenchy with the horses, +an' yous other fellows fill them lanterns an' git what you need unloaded +an' cover the wagon with a tarp." + +"What can I do?" asked Connie. Hurley eyed him with a laugh. "Gosh +sakes! Ain't you petered out yet? Well, go ahead and help Saginaw with +the supper--the can stuff and dishes is on the hind end of the load." + +The following days were busy ones for Connie. Men and teams laboured +over the road, hauling supplies and equipment from the railway, while +other men attacked the weed-choked clearing with brush-scythes and +mattocks, and made necessary repairs about the camp. It was the boy's +duty to check all incoming material whether of supplies or equipment, +and between the arrival of teams he found time to make himself useful in +the chinking of camp buildings and in numerous other ways. + +"I'll show you about the books, now," said Hurley one evening as they +sat in the office, or boss's camp, as the small building that stood off +by itself was called. This room was provided with two rude pine desks +with split log stools. A large air-tight stove occupied the centre of +the floor, and two double-tier bunks were built against the wall. The +wanagan chests were also ranged along the log wall into which pins had +been inserted for the hanging of snow-shoes, rifles, and clothing. + +The boss took from his desk several books. "This one," he began, "is the +wanagan book. If a wanagan book is kep' right ye never have no +trouble--if it ain't ye never have nawthin' else. Some outfits gouge the +men on the wanagan--I don't. I don't even add haulin' cost to the +price--they can git tobacker an' whatever they need jest as cheap here +as what they could in town. But they've be'n cheated so much with +wanagans that they expect to be. The best way to keep 'em from growlin' +is to name over the thing an' the price to 'em after they've bought it, +even if it's only a dime's worth of tobacker. Then jest name off the +total that's ag'in' 'em--ye can do that by settin' it down to one side +with a pencil each time. That don't never give them a chanct to kick, +an' they soon find it out. I don't run no 'dollar you got, dollar you +didn't get, an' dollar you ort to got' outfit. They earn what's comin' +to 'em. Some augers they might as well gouge 'em 'cause they go an' blow +it all in anyhow, soon as they get to town--but what's that any of my +business? It's theirn. + +"This here book is the time book. Git yer pen, now, an' I'll call ye off +the names an' the wages an' you can set 'em down." When the task was +completed the boss continued: "Ye know about the supply book, an' here's +the log book--but ye won't need that fer a while yit. I've got to cruise +around tomorrow an' find a location fer the new camp. I want to git it +laid out as quick as I can so the men can git to cuttin' the road +through. Then they can git to work on the buildin's while I go back an' +fill me out a crew. + +"Wish't you'd slip over to the men's camp an' tell Saginaw I want to see +him. I'll make him straw boss while I am gone--the men like him, an' at +the same time they know he won't stand for no monkey business." + +"What's a straw boss?" asked the boy. + +"He's the boss that's boss when the boss ain't around," explained +Hurley, as Connie put on his cap and proceeded to the men's camp, a long +log building from whose windows yellow lamplight shone. The moment he +opened the door he was thankful indeed, that Hurley had invited him to +share the boss's camp. Although the night was not cold, a fire roared in +the huge box stove that occupied the centre of the long room. A fine +drizzle had set in early in the afternoon, and the drying racks about +the stove were ladened with the rain-dampened garments of the men. Steam +from these, mingled with the smoke from thirty-odd pipes and the reek of +drying rubbers and socks, rendered the air of the bunk house thick with +an odorous fog that nearly stifled Connie as he stepped into the +superheated interior. + +Seated upon an upper bunk with his feet dangling over the edge, one of +the men was playing vociferously upon a cheap harmonica, while others +sat about upon rude benches or the edges of bunks listening or talking. +The boy made his way over the uneven floor, stained with dark splotches +of tobacco juice, toward the farther end of the room, where Saginaw Ed +was helping Frenchy mend a piece of harness. + +As he passed a bunk midway of the room, Steve rose to his feet and +confronted him. "Ha! Here's the greener kid--the boss's pet that's too +good to bunk in the men's camp! Whatchu doin' in here? Did Hurley send +you after some strap oil?" As the two boys stood facing each other in +the middle of the big room the men saw that the cookee was the taller +and the heavier of the two. The harmonica stopped and the men glanced in +grinning expectation at the two figures. Steve's sneering laugh sounded +startingly loud in the sudden silence. "He made his brag he used to tame +bear-cats over in Canady!" he said. "Well, I'm a bear-cat--come on an' +tame me! I'm wild!" Reaching swiftly the boy jerked the cap from +Connie's head and hurled it across the room where it lodged in an upper +bunk. Some of the men laughed, but there were others who did not +laugh--those who noted the slight paling of the smaller boy's face and +the stiffening of his muscles. With hardly a glance at Steve, Connie +stepped around him and walked to where Saginaw Ed sat, an interested +spectator of the scene. + +"The boss wants to see you in the office," he said, and turning on his +heel, retraced his steps. Steve stood in the middle of the floor where +he had left him, the sneering smile still upon his lips. + +"I believe he's goin' to cry," he taunted, and again some men laughed. + +"What is it you say you are? I don't believe they all heard you." Again +Connie was facing him, and his voice was steady and very low. + +"I'm a bear-cat!" + +Connie stretched out his arm: "Give me my cap, please, I'm in a hurry." +The boy seized the hand roughly, which was just what Connie expected, +and the next instant his other hand closed about Steve's wrist and quick +as a flash he whirled and bent sharply forward. There was a shrill yelp +of pain as the older boy shot over Connie's lowered shoulder and struck +with a thud upon the uneven floor. The next instant Connie was astride +the prostrate form and with a hand at his elbow and another at his +wrist, slowly forced the boy's arm upward between his shoulder blades. + +"O-o-o, O-w-w!" howled Steve. "Take him off! He's killin' me!" Roars of +laughter filled the room as the lumberjacks looked on with shouts of +encouragement and approval. The cookee continued to howl and beg. + +"Once more, now," said Connie, easing up a bit on the arm. "Tell them +what you are." + +"Le' me up! Yer broke my arm!" + +"Oh, no I didn't." Connie increased the pressure. "Come on, tell them +what you told them a minute ago. Some of them look as if they don't +believe it." + +[Illustration: "COME ON, TELL THEM WHAT YOU TOLD THEM A MINUTE AGO"] + +"O-w-w, I'm a-a bear-cat--O-w-w!" whimpered the boy, with such a +shame-faced expression that the men roared with delight. + +Connie rose to his feet. "Climb up there and get my cap, and bring it +down and hand it to me," he ordered tersely. "And the next time you feel +wild, just let me know." + +For only an instant the boy looked into the blue-grey eyes that regarded +him steadily and then sullenly, without a word, he stepped onto the +lower bunk, groped for a moment in the upper one and handed Connie his +cap. A moment later the boy, accompanied by Saginaw Ed, stepped out into +the night, but Saginaw saw what Connie did not--the look of crafty +malevolence that flashed into Steve's eyes as they followed the +departing pair. + +"By jiminetty, kid, y're all right!" approved the man, as they walked +toward the office. "That was as handy a piece of work as I ever seen, +an' they ain't a man in camp'll fergit it. You're there! But keep yer +eye on that cookee--he's a bad egg. Them kind can't take a lickin' like +a man. He'll lay fer to git even, if it takes him all winter--not so +much fer what you done to him as where you done it--with the men all +lookin' on. They never will quit raggin' him with his bear-cat +stuff--an' he knows it." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HURLEY LAYS OUT THE NEW CAMP + + +"Want to go 'long?" asked Hurley, the morning after the "bear-cat" +incident, as he and Connie were returning to the office from breakfast +at the cook's camp. "I've got to locate the new camp an' then we'll +blaze her out an' blaze the road so Saginaw can keep the men goin'." The +boy eagerly assented, and a few moments later they started, Hurley +carrying an axe, and Connie with a light hand-axe thrust into his belt. +Turning north, they followed the river. It was slow travelling, for it +was necessary to explore every ravine in search of a spot where a road +crossing could be effected without building a bridge. The spot located, +Hurley would blaze a tree and they would strike out for the next ravine. + +"It ain't like we had to build a log road," explained the boss, as he +blazed a point that, to Connie, looked like an impossible crossing. +"Each camp will have its own rollways an' all we need is a tote road +between 'em. Frenchy Lamar can put a team anywhere a cat will go. He's +the best hand with horses on the job, if he is a jumper." + +"What's a jumper?" asked Connie. + +"You'll find that out fast enough. Jumpin' a man generally means a fight +in the woods--an' I don't blame 'em none, neither. If I was a jumper an' +a man jumped me, he'd have me to lick afterwards--an' if any one jumps a +jumper into hittin' me, he'll have me to lick, too." + +When they had proceeded for four or five miles Hurley turned again +toward the river and for two hours or more studied the ground minutely +for a desirable location for the new camp. Up and down the bank, and +back into the woods he paced, noting in his mind every detail of the lay +of the land. "Here'd be the best place for the camp if it wasn't fer +that there sand bar that might raise thunder when we come to bust out +the rollways," he explained, as they sat down to eat their lunch at +midday. "There ain't no good rollway ground for a half a mile below the +bar--an' they ain't no use makin' the men walk any furthur'n what they +have to 'specially at night when they've put in a hard day's work. We'll +drop back an' lay her out below--it ain't quite as level, but it'll save +time an' a lot of man-power." + +As Connie ate his lunch he puzzled mightily over Hurley. He had +journeyed from far off Alaska for the purpose of bringing to justice a +man who had swindled him and his partner out of thousands of dollars +worth of timber. His experience with the Mounted had taught him that, +with the possible exception of Notorious Bishop whose consummate nerve +had commanded the respect even of the officers whose business it was to +hunt him down, law-breakers were men who possessed few if any admirable +qualities. Yet here was a man who, Connie was forced to admit, possessed +many such qualities. His first concern seemed to be for the comfort of +his men, and his orders regarding the keeping of the wanagan book showed +that it was his intention to deal with them fairly. His attitude toward +the despicable I. W. W.'s was the attitude that the boy knew would have +been taken by any of the big men of the North whose rugged standards he +had unconsciously adopted as his own. He, himself, had been treated by +the boss with a bluff friendliness--and he knew that, despite Hurley's +blustering gruffness, the men, with few exceptions, liked him. The boy +frankly admitted that had he not known Hurley to be a crook he too would +have liked him. + +Luncheon over, the boss arose and lighted his pipe: "Well, 'spose we +just drop back an' lay out the camp, then on the way home we'll line up +the road an' take some of the kinks out of it an' Saginaw can jump the +men into it tomorrow mornin'." They had proceeded but a short distance +when the man pointed to a track in the softer ground of a low swale: +"Deer passed here this mornin'," he observed. "The season opens next +week, an' I expect I won't be back with the crew in time for the fun. If +you'd like to try yer hand at it, yer welcome to my rifle. I'll dig you +out some shells tonight if you remind me to." + +"I believe I will have a try at 'em," said Connie, as he examined the +tracks; "there were two deer--a doe, and a half-grown fawn, and there +was a _loup-cervier_ following them--that's why they were hitting for +the river." + +Hurley stared at the boy in open-mouthed astonishment: "Looky here, kid, +I thought you said you never worked in the woods before!" + +Connie smiled: "I never have, but I've hunted some, up across the line." + +"I guess you've hunted _some_, all right," observed the boss, drily; "I +wondered how it come you wasn't petered out that night we come into the +woods. Wherever you've hunted ain't none of my business. When a man's +goin' good, I b'lieve in tellin' him so--same's I b'lieve in tellin' him +good an' plain when he ain't. You've made a good start. Saginaw told me +about what you done to that mouthy cookee. That was all right, fer as it +went. If I'd be'n you I'd a punched his face fer him when I had him down +'til he hollered' 'nough'--but if you wanted to let him off that hain't +none of my business--jest you keep yer eye on him, that's all--he's +dirty. Guess I didn't make no mistake puttin' you in fer clerk--you've +learnt to keep yer eyes open--that's the main thing, an' mebbe it'll +stand you good 'fore this winter's over. There's more'n I. W. W.'s is +the matter with this camp--" The boss stopped abruptly and, eyeing the +boy sharply, repeated his warning of a few days before: "Keep yer mouth +shet. There's me, an' Saginaw, an' Lon Camden--he'll be the scaler, an' +whoever bosses Number Two Camp--Slue Foot Magee, if I can git holt of +him. He was my straw-boss last year. If you've got anythin' to say, say +it to us. Don't never tell nothin' to nobody else about nothin' that's +any 'count--see?" + +"You can depend on me for that," answered the boy, and Hurley picked up +his axe. + +"Come on, le's git that camp laid out. We won't git nothin' done if we +stand 'round gassin' all day." The two followed down the river to the +point indicated by Hurley where the banks sloped steeply to the water's +edge, well below the long shallow bar that divided the current of the +river into two channels. As they tramped through the timber Connie +puzzled over the words of the boss. Well he knew that there was +something wrong in camp beside the I. W. W.'s. But why should Hurley +speak of it to him? And why should he be pleased at the boy's habit of +observation? "Maybe he thinks I'll throw in with him on the deal," he +thought: "Well, he's got an awful jolt coming to him if he does--but, +things couldn't have broken better for me, at that." + +At the top of the steep bank Hurley blazed some trees, and with a heavy +black pencil, printed the letter R in the centre of the flat, white +scars. "That'll show 'em where to clear fer the rollways," he explained, +then, striking straight back from the river for about twenty rods, he +blazed a large tree. Turning at right angles, he proceeded about twenty +five rods parallel with the river bank and made a similar blaze. "That +gives 'em the corners fer the clearin', an' now fer spottin' the +buildin's." Back and forth over the ground went the man, pausing now and +then to blaze a tree and mark it with the initial of the building whose +site it marked. "We don't have to corner these," he explained, "Saginaw +knows how big to build 'em--the trees marks their centre." The sun hung +low when the task was completed. "You strike out for the head of the +nearest ravine," said Hurley, "an' when you come to the tree we blazed +comin' up, you holler. Then I'll blaze the tote road to you, an' you can +slip on to the next one. Straighten her out as much as you can by +holdin' away from the short ravines." Connie was surprised at the +rapidity with which Hurley followed, pausing every few yards to scar a +tree with a single blow of his axe. + +The work was completed in the dark and as they emerged onto the clearing +Hurley again regarded the boy with approval: "You done fine, kid. They's +plenty of older hands than you be, that would of had trouble locatin' +them blazes in the night, but you lined right out to 'em like you was +follerin' a string. Come on, we'll go wash up an' see what the cook's +got fer us." + +After supper Saginaw Ed received his final instructions, and early next +morning Hurley struck out on foot fer Dogfish Spur. "So long, kid," he +called from the office door. "I left the shells on top of my desk an' +yonder hangs the rifle. I was goin' to give you a few pointers, but from +what I seen yeste'day, I don't guess you need none about huntin'. I +might be back in a week an' it might be two 'cordin' to how long it +takes me to pick up a crew. I've got some men waitin' on me, but I'll +have to rustle up the balance wherever I can git 'em. I told Saginaw he +better move his turkey over here while I'm gone. You'll find Saginaw a +rough-bark piece of timber--but he's sound clean plumb through to the +heart, an' if you don't know it now, before this winter's over yer goin' +to find out that them's the kind to tie to--when you kin find 'em." + +Connie gazed after the broad-shouldered form 'til it disappeared from +sight around a bend of the tote road, then he turned to his books with a +puzzled expression. "Either Mike Gillum was wrong, or Hurley's the +biggest bluffer that ever lived," he muttered, "and which ever way it is +I'll know by spring." + +Saginaw put his whole crew at work on the tote road. Saplings and brush +were cleared away and thrown to the side. Trees were felled, the larger +ones to be banked on the skidways and later hauled to the rollways to +await the spring break-up, and the smaller ones to be collected and +hauled to the new camp for building material. + +Connie's duties were very light and he spent much time upon the new tote +road watching the men with whom he had become a great favourite. Tiring +of that, he would take long tramps through the woods and along the banks +of the numerous little lakes that besprinkled the country, searching for +sign, so that, when the deer season opened he would not have to hunt at +random, but could stalk his game at the watering places. + +"Whar's yer gun, sonny?" called out a lanky sawyer as the boy started +upon one of these excursions. + +"Hay ain' need no gun," drawled Swede Larson, with a prodigious wink +that distorted one whole side of his face. "Ay tank he gon fer hont some +bear-cat." And the laughter that followed told Connie as he proceeded on +his way, that his handling of Steve had met the universal approval of +the crew. + +It was upon his return from this expedition that the boy witnessed an +actual demonstration of the effect of sudden suggestion upon a jumper. +Frenchy Lamar pulled his team to the side of the roadway and drew his +watch from his pocket. At the same time, Pierce, one of the I. W. W. +suspects, slipped up behind him and bringing the flat of his hand down +upon Frenchy's shoulder, cried: "_throw it_." Frenchy threw it, and the +watch dropped with a jangle of glass and useless wheels at the foot of a +tree. The next instant Frenchy whirled upon his tormentor with a snarl. +The man, who had no stomach for an open fight, turned to run but the +Frenchman was too quick for him. The other two I. W. W.'s started to +their pal's assistance but were halted abruptly, and none too gently by +other members of the crew. "Fight!" "Fight!" The cry was taken up by +those nearby and all within hearing rushed gleefully to the spot. The +teamster was popular among the men and he fought amid cries of advice +and encouragement: "Soak 'im good, Frenchy!" "Don't let 'im holler +''nough' till he's down!" + +The combat was short, but very decisive. Many years' experience in the +lumber woods had taught Frenchy the art of self-defence by force of +fist--not, perhaps, the most exalted form of asserting a right nor of +avenging a wrong--but, in the rougher walks of life, the most thoroughly +practical, and the most honourable. So, when the teamster returned to +his horses a few minutes later, it was to leave Pierce whimpering upon +the ground nursing a badly swollen and rapidly purpling eye, the while +he muttered incoherent threats of dire vengeance. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE I. W. W. SHOWS ITS HAND + + +"Changed yer job?" inquired Saginaw Ed, sleepily a few mornings later +when Connie slipped quietly from his bunk and lighted the oil lamp. + +"Not yet," smiled the boy. "Why?" + +"No one but teamsters gits up at this time of night--you got an hour to +sleep yet." + +"This is the first day of the season, and I'm going out and get a deer." + +Saginaw laughed: "Oh, yer goin' out an' git a deer--jest like rollin' +off a log! You might's well crawl back in bed an' wait fer a snow. Deer +huntin' without snow is like fishin' without bait--you might snag onto +one, but the chances is all again' it." + +"Bet I'll kill a deer before I get back," laughed the boy. + +"Better pack up yer turkey an' fix to stay a long time then," twitted +Saginaw. "But, I won't bet--it would be like stealin'--an' besides, I +lost one bet on you a'ready." + +The teamsters, their lanterns swinging, were straggling toward the +stable as the boy crossed the clearing. + +"Hey, w'at you gon keel, de bear-cat?" called Frenchy. + +"Deer," answered Connie with a grin. + +"Ho! She ain' no good for hont de deer! She too mooch no snow. De groun' +she too mooch dry. De deer, she hear you comin' wan mile too queek, den +she ron way ver' fas', an' you no kin track heem." + +"Never mind about that," parried the boy, "I'll be in tonight, and in +the morning you can go out and help me pack in the meat." + +"A'm help you breeng in de meat, a'ri. Ba Goss! A'm lak A'm git to bite +me on chonk dat _venaison_." + +Connie proceeded as rapidly as the darkness would permit to the shore of +a marshy lake some three or four miles from camp, and secreted himself +behind a windfall, thirty yards from the trail made by the deer in +going down to drink. Just at daybreak a slight sound attracted his +attention, and peering through the screen of tangled branches, the boy +saw a large doe picking her way cautiously down the trail. He watched in +silence as she advanced, halted, sniffed the air suspiciously, and +passed on to the water's edge. Lowering her head, she rubbed an +inquisitive nose upon the surface of the thin ice that sealed the +shallow bay of the little lake. A red tongue darted out and licked at +the ice and she pawed daintily at it with a small front foot. Then, +raising the foot, she brought it sharply down, and the knifelike hoof +cut through the ice as though it were paper. Pleased with the +performance she pawed again and again, throwing the cold water in every +direction and seeming to find great delight in crushing the ice into the +tiniest fragments. Tiring of this, she paused and sniffed the air, +turning her big ears backward and forward to catch the slightest sound +that might mean danger. Then, she drank her fill, made her way back up +the trail, and disappeared into the timber. A short time later another, +smaller doe followed by a spring fawn, went down, and allowing them to +pass unharmed, Connie settled himself to wait for worthier game. An +hour passed during which the boy ate part of the liberal lunch with +which the cook had provided him. Just as he had about given up hope of +seeing any further game, a sharp crackling of twigs sounded directly +before him, and a beautiful five-prong buck broke into the trail and +stood with uplifted head and nostrils a-quiver. Without taking his eyes +from the buck, Connie reached for his rifle, but just as he raised it +from the ground its barrel came in contact with a dry branch which +snapped with a sound that rang in the boy's ears like the report of a +cannon. With a peculiar whistling snort of fear, the buck turned and +bounded crashing away through the undergrowth. Connie lowered the rifle +whose sights had been trained upon the white "flag" that bobbed up and +down until it was lost in the thick timber. + +"No use taking a chance shot," he muttered, disgustedly. "If I should +hit him I would only wound him, and I couldn't track him down without +snow. I sure am glad nobody was along to see that, or they never would +have quit joshing me about it." Shouldering his rifle he proceeded +leisurely toward another lake where he had spotted a water-trail, and +throwing himself down behind a fallen log, slept for several hours. When +he awoke the sun was well into the west and he finished his lunch and +made ready to wait for his deer, taking good care this time that no twig +or branch should interfere with the free use of his gun. + +At sunset a four-prong buck made his way cautiously down the trail and, +waiting 'til the animal came into full view, Connie rested his rifle +across the log and fired at a point just behind the shoulder. It was a +clean shot, straight through the heart, and it was but the work of a few +moments to bleed, and draw him. Although not a large buck, Connie found +that it was more than he could do to hang him clear of the wolves, so he +resorted to the simple expedient of peeling a few saplings and laying +them across the carcass. This method is always safe where game or meat +must be left exposed for a night or two, as the prowlers fear a trap. +However, familiarity breeds contempt, and if left too long, some animal +is almost sure to discover the ruse. + +Packing the heart, liver, and tongue, Connie struck out swiftly for +camp, but darkness overtook him with a mile still to go. + +As he approached the clearing a low sound caused him to stop short. +He listened and again he heard it distinctly--the sound of something +heavy moving through the woods. The sounds grew momentarily more +distinct--whatever it was was approaching the spot where he stood. A +small, thick windfall lay near him, and beside it a large spruce spread +its low branches invitingly near the ground. With hardly a sound Connie, +pack, gun, and all, scrambled up among those thick branches and seated +himself close to the trunk. The sounds drew nearer, and the boy could +hear fragments of low-voiced conversation. The night prowlers were men, +not animals! Connie's interest increased. There seemed to be several of +them, but how many the boy could not make out in the darkness. Presently +the leader crashed heavily into the windfall where he floundered for a +moment in the darkness. + +"This is fer enough. Stick it in under here!" he growled, as the others +came up with him. Connie heard sounds as of a heavy object being pushed +beneath the interlaced branches of the windfall but try as he would he +could not catch a glimpse of it. Suddenly the faces of the men showed +vividly as one of their number held a match to the bowl of his pipe. +They were the three I. W. W.'s and with them was Steve! "Put out that +match you eediot! D'ye want the hull camp a pokin' their nose in our +business?" + +"'Tain't no one kin see way out here," growled the other, whom Connie +recognized as Pierce. + +"It's allus fellers like you that knows more'n any one else, that don't +know nawthin'," retorted the first speaker, "come on, now, we got to git +back. Remember--'leven o'clock on the furst night the wind blows stiff +from the west. You, Steve, you tend to swipin' Frenchy's lantern. Pierce +here, he'll soak the straw, an' Sam, you stand ready to drive a plug in +the lock when I come out. Then when the excitement's runnin' high, I'll +holler that Frenchy's lantern's missin' an' they'll think he left it lit +in the stable. I tell ye, we'll terrorize every business in these here +United States. We'll have 'em all down on their knees to the I. W. W.! +Then we'll see who's the bosses an' the rich! We'll hinder the work, an' +make it cost 'em money, an' Pierce here'll git even with Frenchy, all in +one clatter. We'll be gittin' back, now. An' don't all pile into the +men's camp to onct, neither." + +Connie sat motionless upon his branch until the sounds of the retreating +men were lost in the darkness. What did it all mean? "Swipe Frenchy's +lantern." "Plug the lock." "Soak the straw." "Terrorize business." The +words of the man repeated themselves over and over in Connie's brain. +What was this thing these men were planning to do "at eleven o'clock the +first night the wind blows stiff from the west?" He wriggled to the +ground and crept toward the thing the men had _cached_ in the windfall. +It was a five-gallon can of coal-oil! "That's Steve's part of the +scheme, whatever it is," he muttered. "He's got a key to the +storehouse." Leaving the can undisturbed, he struck out for camp, +splashing through the waters of a small creek without noticing it, so +busy was his brain trying to fathom the plan of the gang. "I've got all +day tomorrow, at least," he said, "and that'll give me time to think. I +won't tell even Saginaw 'til I've got it doped out. I bet when they try +to start something they'll find out who's going to be terrorized!" A few +minutes later he entered the office and was greeted vociferously by +Saginaw Ed: + +"Hello there, son, by jiminetty, I thought you'd took me serious when I +told you you'd better make a long stay of it. What ye got there? Well, +dog my cats, if you didn't up an' git you a deer! Slip over to the +cook's camp an' wade into some grub. I told him to shove yer supper onto +the back of the range, again' you got back. While yer gone I'll jest run +a couple rags through yer rifle." + +When Connie returned from the cook's camp Saginaw was squinting down the +barrel of the gun. "Shines like a streak of silver," he announced; +"Hurley's mighty pernickety about his rifle, an' believe me, it ain't +everyone he'd borrow it to. Tell me 'bout yer hunt," urged the man, and +Connie saw a gleam of laughter in his eye. "Killed yer deer dead centre +at seven hundred yards, runnin' like greased lightnin', an' the +underbrush so thick you couldn't hardly see yer sights, I 'pose." + +The boy laughed: "I got him dead centre, all right, but it was a +standing shot at about twenty yards, and I had a rest. He's only a +four-prong--I let a five-prong get away because I was clumsy." + +Saginaw Ed eyed the boy quizzically: "Say, kid," he drawled. "Do you +know where folks goes that tells the truth about huntin'?" + +"No," grinned Connie. + +"Well, I don't neither," replied Saginaw, solemnly. "I guess there ain't +no place be'n pervided, but if they has, I bet it's gosh-awful lonesome +there." + +Despite the volubility of his companion, Connie was unusually silent +during the short interval that elapsed before they turned in. Over and +over in his mind ran the words of the four men out there in the dark, as +he tried to figure out their scheme from the fragmentary bits of +conversation that had reached his ears. + +"Don't mope 'cause you let one buck git away, kid. Gosh sakes, the last +buck I kilt, I got so plumb rattled when I come onto him, I missed him +eight foot!" + +"How did you kill him then?" asked Connie, and the instant the words +were spoken he realized he had swallowed the bait--hook and all. + +With vast solemnity, Saginaw stared straight before him: "Well, you see, +it was the last shell in my rifle an' I didn't have none in my pocket, +so I throw'd the gun down an' snuck up an' bit him on the lip. If ever +you run onto a deer an' ain't got no gun, jest you sneak up in front of +him an' bite him on the lip, an' he's yourn. I don't know no other place +you kin bite a deer an' kill him. They're like old Acolyte, or whatever +his name was, in the Bible, which they couldn't kill him 'til they shot +him in the heel--jest one heel, mind you, that his ma held him up by +when she dipped him into the kettle of bullet-proof. If he'd of be'n me, +you bet I'd of beat it for the Doc an' had that leg cut off below the +knee, an' a wooden one made, an' he'd of be'n goin' yet! I know a +feller's got two wooden ones, with shoes on 'em jest like other folks, +and when you see him walk the worst you'd think: he's got a couple of +corns." + +"Much obliged, Saginaw," said Connie, with the utmost gravity, as he +arose and made ready for bed, "I'll sure remember that. Anyhow you don't +need to worry about any solitary confinement in the place where the deer +hunters go." And long after he was supposed to be asleep, the boy +grinned to himself at the sounds of suppressed chuckling that came from +Saginaw's bunk. + +Next morning Connie helped Frenchy pack in the deer, and when the +teamster had returned to his work, the boy took a stroll about camp. +"Let's see," he mused, "they're going to soak the straw inside the +stable with oil and set fire to it on the inside, and they'll do it with +Frenchy's lantern so everyone will think he forgot it and it got tipped +over by accident. Then, before the fire is discovered they'll lock the +stable and jam the lock so the men can't get in to fight it." The boy's +teeth gritted savagely. "And there are sixteen horses in that stable!" +he cried. "The dirty hounds! A west wind would sweep the flames against +the oat house, then the men's camp, and the cook's camp and storehouse. +They sure do figure on a clean sweep of this camp. But, what I can't see +is how that is going to put any one in terror of the I. W. W., if they +think Frenchy caused the fire accidentally. Dan McKeever says all crooks +are fools--and he's right." He went to the office and sat for a long +time at his pine desk. From his turkey he extracted the Service revolver +that he had been allowed to keep in memory of his year with the Mounted. +"I can take this," he muttered, as he affectionately twirled the +smoothly running cylinder with his thumb, "and Saginaw can take the +rifle, and we can nail 'em as they come out of the woods with the +coal-oil can. The trouble is, we wouldn't have anything on them except +maybe the theft of a little coal-oil. I know what they intend to do, but +I can't prove it--there's four of them and only one of me and no +evidence to back me up. On the other hand, if we let them start the +fire, it might be too late to put it out." His eyes rested on the can +that contained the supply of oil for the office. It was an exact +duplicate of the one beneath the windfall. He jumped to his feet and +crossing to the window carefully scanned the clearing. No one was in +sight, and the boy passed out the door and slipped silently into the +thick woods. When he returned the crew was crowding into the men's camp +to wash up for supper. The wind had risen, and as Connie's gaze centred +upon the lashing pine tops, he smiled grimly,--it was blowing stiffly +from the west. + +After supper Saginaw Ed listened with bulging eyes to what the boy had +to say. When he was through the man eyed him critically: + +"Listen to me, kid. Nonsense is nonsense, an' business is business. I +don't want no truck with a man that ain't got some nonsense about him +somewheres--an' I don't want no truck with one that mixes up nonsense +an' serious business. Yer only a kid, an' mebbe you ain't grabbed that +yet. But I want to tell you right here an' now, fer yer own good: If +this here yarn is some gag you've rigged up to git even with me fer last +night, it's a mighty bad one. A joke is a joke only so long as it don't +harm no one----" + +"Every word I've told you is the truth," broke in the boy, hotly. + +"There, now, don't git excited, kid. I allowed it was, but they ain't no +harm ever comes of makin' sure. It's eight o'clock now, s'pose we jest +loaf over to the men's camp an' lay this here case before 'em." + +"No! No!" cried the boy: "Why, they--they might kill them!" + +"Well, I 'spect they would do somethin' of the kind. Kin you blame 'em +when you stop to think of them horses locked in a blazin' stable, an' +the deliberate waitin' 'til the wind was right to carry the fire to the +men's camp? The men works hard, an' by eleven o'clock they're poundin' +their ear mighty solid. S'pose they didn't wake up till too late--what +then?" + +Connie shuddered. In his heart he felt, with Saginaw Ed, that any +summary punishment the men chose to deal out to the plotters would be +richly deserved. "I know," he replied: "But, mob punishment is never +_right_, when a case can be reached by the law. It may look right, and +lots of times it does hand out a sort of rough justice. But, here we are +not out of reach of the law, and it will go lots farther in showing up +the I. W. W. if we let the law take its course." + +Saginaw Ed seemed impressed: "That's right, kid, in the main. But there +ain't no law that will fit this here special case. S'pose we go over an' +arrest them hounds--what have we got on 'em! They swiped five gallons of +coal-oil! That would git 'em mebbe thirty days in the county jail. The +law can't reach a man fer what he's _goin'_ to do--an' I ain't a goin' +over to the men's camp an' advise the boys to lay abed an' git roasted +so's mebbe we kin git them I. W. W.'s hung. The play wouldn't be +pop'lar." + +Connie grinned: "Well, not exactly," he agreed. "But, why not just sit +here and let them go ahead with their scheme. I've got a good revolver, +and you can take the rifle, and we can wait for 'em in the tote wagon +that's just opposite the stable door. Then when they've soaked the +straw, and tipped over Frenchy's lantern, and locked the door behind +'em, and plugged the lock, we can cover 'em and gather 'em in." + +"Yeh, an' meanwhile the fire'll be workin' on that oil-soaked straw +inside, an' where'll the horses be? With this here wind a blowin' they +ain't men enough in the woods to put out a fire, an' the hull camp would +go." + +Connie laughed, and leaning forward, spoke rapidly for several moments. +When he had finished, Saginaw eyed him with undisguised approval: "Well, +by jiminetty! Say, kid, you've got a head on you! That's jest the +ticket! The courts of this State has jest begun to wake up to the fact +that the I. W. W. is a real danger. A few cases, with the evidence as +clean again' 'em as this, an' the stinkin' varmints 'll be huntin' their +holes--you bet!" + +At nine-thirty Saginaw and Connie put out the office light, and with +some clothing arranged dummies in their bunks, so that if any of the +conspirators should seek to spy upon them through the window they would +find nothing to arouse their suspicion. Then, fully armed, they crept +out and concealed themselves in the tote wagon. An hour passed, and +through the slits cut in the tarpaulin that covered them, they saw four +shadowy forms steal silently toward them from the direction of the men's +camp. Avoiding even the feeble light of the stars, they paused in the +shadow of the oat house, at a point not thirty feet from the tote wagon. +A whispered conversation ensued and two of the men hastily crossed the +open and disappeared into the timber. + +"Stand still, can't ye!" hissed one of those who remained, and his +companion ceased to pace nervously up and down in the shadow. + +"I'm scairt," faltered the other, whom the watchers identified as Steve. +"I wisht I wasn't in on this." + +"Quit yer shiverin'! Yer makin' that lantern rattle. What they do to us, +if they ketch us, hain't a patchin' to what we'll do to you if you back +out." The man called Sam spat out his words in an angry whisper, and the +two relapsed into silence. + +At the end of a half-hour the two men who had entered the timber +appeared before the door of the stable, bearing the oil can between +them. The others quickly joined them, there was a fumbling at the lock, +the door swung open, and three of the men entered. The fourth stood +ready with the heavy padlock in his hand. A few moments of silence +followed, and then the sound of the empty can thrown to the floor. A +feeble flicker of flame dimly lighted the interior, and the three men +who had entered rushed out into the night. The heavy door closed, the +padlock snapped shut and a wooden plug was driven into the key hole. + +"_Hands up!_" The words roared from the lips of Saginaw Ed, as he and +Connie leaped to the ground and confronted the four at a distance of ten +yards. For one terrified instant the men stared at the guns in their +captors hands, and then four pairs of hands flew skyward. + +"Face the wall, an' keep a reachin'," commanded Saginaw, "an' if any one +of you goes to start somethin' they'll be wolf-bait in camp in about one +second." + +A horse snorted nervously inside the stable and there was a stamping of +iron shod feet. + +"Jest slip in an' fetch out Frenchy's lantern, kid, an' we'll git these +birds locked up in the oat house, 'fore the men gits onto the racket." + +With a light crow-bar which the boy had brought for the purpose, he +pryed the hasp and staple from the door, leaving the plugged lock for +evidence. Entering the stable whose interior was feebly illumined by the +sickly flare of the overturned lantern, he returned in time to hear the +petty bickering of the prisoners. + +"It's your fault," whined Pierce, addressing the leader of the gang. +"You figgered out this play--an' it hain't worked!" + +"It hain't neither my fault!" flashed the man. "Some one of you's +blabbed, an' we're in a pretty fix, now." + +"'Twasn't me!" came in a chorus from the others. + +"But at that," sneered Sam, "if you'd a lit that oil, we'd a burnt up +the camp anyhow." + +"I did light it!" screamed the leader, his face livid with rage. "I +tipped over the lantern an' shoved it right under the straw." + +"That's right," grinned Connie, from the doorway, as he flashed the +lantern upon the faces of the men. "And if you hadn't taken the trouble +to soak the straw with water it would have burned, too." + +"Water! Whad' ye mean--water?" + +"I mean just this," answered the boy, eyeing the men with a glance of +supreme contempt, "I sat out there beside that windfall last night when +you hid your can of oil. I listened to all you had to say, and today I +slipped over there and poured out the oil and filled the can with water. +You I. W. W.'s are a fine outfit," he sneered: "If you had some brains, +and nerve, and consciences, you might almost pass for _men!_" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PRISONERS + + +"I wish't Hurley was here," said Saginaw Ed, as he and Connie returned +to the boss's camp after locking the prisoners in the oat house. "The +men's goin' to want to know what them four is locked up fer. If we don't +tell 'em there'll be trouble. They don't like them birds none but, at +that, they won't stand fer 'em bein' grabbed an' locked up without +nothin' ag'in' 'em. An' on the other hand, if we do tell 'em there's +goin' to be trouble. Like as not they'd overrule me an' you an' hunt up +a handy tree an' take 'em out an' jiggle 'em on the down end of a tight +one." + +"Couldn't we slip 'em down to the nearest jail and tell the men about it +afterwards, or send for a constable or sheriff to come up here and get +them?" + +Saginaw shook his head: "No. If me an' you was to take 'em down the +camp would blow up in no time. When the men woke up an' found the boss, +an' the clerk, an' three hands, an' the cookee missin', an' the lock +pried offen the stable door, work would stop right there. There ain't +nothin' like a myst'ry of some kind to bust up a crew of men. We +couldn't wake no one else up to take 'em without we woke up the whole +men's camp, an' they'd want to know what was the rookus. If we sent fer +a constable it'd be two or three days 'fore he'd git here an' then it +would be too late. This here thing's comin' to a head when them +teamsters goes fer the oats in the mornin', an' I've got to be there +when they do." + +"I hate to see Steve mixed up in this. He's only a kid. I wonder if +there isn't some way----" + +Saginaw Ed interrupted him roughly: "No. There ain't no way whatever. +He's a bad aig or he wouldn't do what he done. You're only a kid, too, +but I take notice you ain't throw'd in with no such outfit as them is." + +"I can't help thinking maybe he's getting a wrong start----" + +"He's got a wrong start, all right. But he got it quite a while +ago--this here kind of business ain't no startin' job. They're all of a +piece, kid. It's best we jest let the tail go with the hide." + +"What will Hurley do about it? If he agrees with us, won't the men +overrule him?" + +"I don't know what he'll do--I only wish't he was here to do it. But, as +fer as overrulin' him goes--" Saginaw paused and eyed Connie solemnly, +"jest you make it a p'int to be in the same township sometime when a +crew of men ondertakes to overrule Hurley. Believe me, they'd have the +same kind of luck if they ondertook to overrule Mont Veesooverus when +she'd started in to erup'." + +The door swung open and Hurley himself stood blinking in the lamplight. +"This here's a purty time fer workin' men to be up!" he grinned. "Don't +yous lads know it's half past twelve an' you'd orter be'n asleep four +hours?" + +"I don't hear _you_ snorin' none," grinned Saginaw. "An' you kin bet me +an' the kid sure is glad to see you." + +"Got through sooner'n I expected. Slue Foot had the crew all picked out. +He'll bring 'em in from the Spur in the mornin'. Thought I'd jest hike +on out an' see how things was gittin' on." + +"Oh, we're gittin' on, all right. Tote road's all cleared, Camp Two's +clearin's all ready, an' the buildin's most done. An' besides that, four +prisoners in the oat house, an' me an' the kid, here, losin' sleep over +what to do with 'em." + +"Prisoners! What do you mean--prisoners?" + +"Them I. W. W.'s an' that cookee that throw'd in with 'em. They tried to +burn the outfit--locked the hosses in the stable an' set fire to it, +after waitin' 'til the wind was so it would spread over the hull camp." + +Hurley reached for a peavy that stood in the corner behind the door. "Ye +say they burn't thim harses?" he rasped, in the brogue that always +accompanied moments of anger or excitement. + +"No they didn't, but they would of an' it hadn't be'n fer the kid, here. +He outguessed 'em, an' filled their coal-oil can with water, an' then we +let 'em go ahead an' put on the whole show so we'd have 'em with the +goods." + +The big boss leaned upon his peavy and regarded Connie thoughtfully. "As +long as I've got a camp, kid, you've got a job." He bit off a huge chew +of tobacco and returned the plug to his pocket, after which he began +deliberately to roll up his shirt sleeves. He spat upon the palms of his +hands, and as he gripped the peavy the muscles of his huge forearm stood +out like steel cables. "Jist toss me th' key to th' oat house," he said +in a voice that rumbled deep in his throat. + +"Wait!" Connie's hand was upon the boss's arm. "Sit down a minute and +let's talk it over----" + +"Sure, boss," seconded Saginaw. "Let's have a powwow. If you go out +there an' git to workin' on them hounds with that there peavy you're +liable to git excited an' tap 'em a little harder'n what you intended +to, an' then----" + +Hurley interrupted with a growl and the two saw that his little eyes +blazed. "Oi ain't got the strength to hit 'em har-rder thin Oi intind +to! An-ny one that 'ud thry to bur-rn up harses--let alone min slaypin' +in their bunks, they can't no man livin' hit 'em har-rd enough wid +an-nything that's made." + +"I know," agreed Saginaw. "They ain't nothin' you could do to 'em that +they wouldn't still have some a-comin'. But the idee is this: Bein' +misclassed as humans, them I. W. W.'s is felonious to kill. Chances is, +the grand jury would turn you loose when they'd heard the facts, but +the grand jury don't set 'til spring, an' meantime, where'd you be? An' +where'd this camp be? Your contract calls fer gittin' out logs, an' +don't stipulate none whatever about spatterin' up the oat house with I. +W. W.'s. I don't like to spoil a man's fun, but when a mere frolic, that +way, interferes with the work, as good a man as you be is a-goin' to put +it off a spell. You know, an' I know, there's more than gittin' out logs +to this winter's work." + +Saginaw's words evidently carried weight with Hurley. The muscles of the +mighty arms relaxed and the angry gleam faded from his eyes. Also, the +brogue was gone from his voice; nevertheless, his tone was ponderously +sarcastic as he asked: "An' what is it you'd have me to do, seein' ye're +so free with yer advice--pay 'em overtime fer the night work they done +tryin' to burn up my camp?" + +Saginaw grinned: "The kid's got it doped out about right. He figgers +that it'll show 'em up better if we let the courts handle the case an' +convict 'em regular. With what we've got on 'em they ain't no chanct but +what they'll get convicted, all right." + +"You see," broke in Connie, "the I. W. W.'s are a law-defying +organization. The only way to bring them to time is to let the law do +it. As soon as _all_ the I. W. W.'s see that the law is stronger than +they are, and that their lawless acts are sure to be punished, there +won't be any more I. W. W.'s. The law can't teach them this unless it +has the chance. Of course, if the law had had the chance and had fallen +down on the job because the men behind it were cowardly, it would be +time enough to think about other ways. But, you told me yourself that +Minnesota was beginning to give 'em what's coming to 'em, and she'll +never get a better chance to hand 'em a jolt than this is, because we've +got 'em with the goods. Now, if we'd go to work and let the men at 'em, +or if you'd wade into 'em yourself we wouldn't be smashing at the I. W. +W.'s, but only at these three men. When you stop to think of it, you +can't teach an outfit to respect the law when you go ahead and break the +law in teaching 'em." + +Hurley seemed much impressed. "That stands to reason," he agreed. +"You're right, kid, an' so's Saginaw. I know Judge McGivern--used to go +to school with him way back--he ain't much as fer as size goes but +believe me he ain't afraid to hand these birds a wallop that'll keep 'em +peekin' out between black ones fer many a day to come. I'll take 'em +down myself, an' then I'll slip around an' have a talk with Mac." Hurley +tossed the peavy into its corner and proceeded to unlace his boots. + +"I kind of hate to see Steve go along with that bunch. He ain't a +regular I. W. W., and----" + +The boss looked up in surprise as a heavy boot thudded upon the floor. +"What d'ye mean--hate to see?" he asked. + +"Why, he might turn out all right, if we kept him on the job and kind of +looked after him." + +The boss snorted contemptuously. "Huh! He done you dirt onct didn't he?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"He throw'd in with these here ornery scum that ain't neither men, fish, +nor potatoes, didn't he?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"'Yes' is all right--an' they ain't no 'buts' about it. I had him last +winter, an' he wasn't no 'count. I thought they might be some good in +him so I hired him ag'in this fall to give him another chanct, but he's +rotten-hearted an' twisty-grained, an' from root to top-branch they +ain't the worth of a lath in his hide. He's a natural-borned crook. If +it was only hisself I wouldn't mind it, but a crook is dangerous to +other folks--not to hisself. It ain't right to leave him loose." The +other boot thudded upon the floor and Hurley leaned back in his chair, +stretched out his legs and regarded the toes of his woollen socks. "I've +often thought," he continued, after a moment of silence, "that men is +oncommon like timber. There's the select, straight-grained, sound stuff, +an' all the grades down through the culls 'til you come to the dozy, +crooked, rotten-hearted stuff that ain't even fit to burn. There's sound +stuff that's rough-barked an' ugly; an' there's rotten-hearted stuff +that looks good from the outside. There's some timber an' some men +that's built to take on a high polish--don't know as I kin git it acrost +to you jest like I mean--but bankers and pianos is like that. Then +there's the stuff that's equal as sound an' true but it wouldn't +never take no polish on account its bein' rough-grained an' +tough-fibred--that's the kind that's picked to carry on the world's +heavy work--the kind that goes into bridges an' ships, an' the frames +of buildin's. It's the backbone, you might say, of civilization. It +ain't purty, but its work ain't purty neither--it jest does what it's +picked to do. + +"It's cur'us how fer you kin carry it on if yer a mind to. There's some +good timber an' some good men that's started bad but ain't got there +yet. The bad habits men take on is like surface rot, an' weather checks, +an' bug stings--take that stuff an' put it through the mill an' rip it +an' plane it down to itself, an' it's as good as the best--sometimes. +The danger to that kind is not puttin' it through the mill quick enough, +an' the rot strikes through to the heart. + +"There's a lot of timber that there ain't much expected of--an' a lot of +humans, too. They're the stuff that works up into rough boards, an' cull +stuff, an' lath, an' pulp wood, an' cordwood an' the like of that--an' +so it goes, folks an' timber runnin' about alike. + +"It takes experience an' judgment to sort timber, jest like it takes +experience an' judgment to pick men. But no matter how much experience +an' judgment he's got, as long as _man's_ got the sortin' to do, +mistakes will be made. Then, a long time afterwards, somewheres +somethin' goes wrong. They can't no one account fer it, nor explain +it--but the Big Inspector--he knows." + +Hurley ceased speaking, and Connie, who had followed every word, broke +in: "Couldn't we keep Steve here and--put him through the mill?" + +The boss shook his head: "No--we didn't catch him young enough. I'm +responsible, in a way, fer the men in this camp. This here runt has +showed he don't care what he does--s'pose he took a notion to slip +somethin' into the grub--what then? Keepin' him in this camp would be +like if I seen a rattlesnake in the bunk house an' walked off an' left +it there." + +Connie realized that any further effort on his part to save Steve from +sharing the richly deserved fate of the I. W. W.'s would be useless. The +three turned in and it seemed to the boy that he had barely closed his +eyes when he was awakened by the sounds of someone moving about the +room. Hurley and Saginaw Ed were pulling on their clothes as the boy +tumbled out of bed. + +"You don't need to git up yet, kid. Me an' Saginaw's goin' to slip out +an' see that the teamsters gits their oats without lettin' no I. W. W.'s +trickle out the door. Better pound yer ear fer an hour yet, cause +you're goin' to be busier'n a pet coon checkin' in Slue Foot's supplies, +an' gittin' his men down on the pay roll." + +As Connie entered the cook's camp for breakfast he noticed an +undercurrent of unrest and suppressed excitement among the men who stood +about in small groups and engaged in low-voiced conversation. Hurley and +Saginaw Ed were already seated, and, as the men filed silently in, many +a sidewise glance was slanted toward the big boss. + +When all were in their places Hurley rose from his chair. "We've got +three I. W. W.'s an' the cookee locked up in the oat house," he +announced bluntly. "An' after breakfast me an' Frenchy is goin' to take +'em down to jail." There was a stir among the men, and Hurley paused, +but no one ventured a comment. "They tried to burn the stable last +night, but the kid, here, outguessed 'em, an' him an' Saginaw gathered +'em in." + +"Last night!" cried a big sawyer, seated half-way down the table. "If +they'd a-burnt the stable last night the whole camp would of gone! Let +us boys take 'em off yer hands, boss, an' save you a trip to town." + +The idea gained instant approval among the men, and from all parts of +the room voices were raised in assent. + +"Over in Westconsin we----" + +Hurley interrupted the speaker with a grin: "Yeh, an' if we was over in +Westconsin I'd say go to it! But Minnesota's woke up to these here +varmints--an' it's up to us to give her a chanct to show these here +other States how to do it. You boys all know Judge McGivern--most of you +helped elect him. Give him the chanct to hand the I. W. W.'s a wallop in +the name of the State of Minnesota! If the State don't grab these birds, +they'll grab the State. Look at North Dakota! It ain't a State no +more--it's a Non-partisan League! Do you boys want to see Minnesota an +I. W. W. Lodge?" + +As Hurley roared out the words his huge fist banged the table with a +force that set the heavy porcelain dishes a-clatter. + +"No! No!" cried a chorus of voices from all sides. "The boss is right! +Let the State handle 'em!" The men swung unanimously to Hurley and the +boss sat down amid roars of approval. + +And so it was that shortly after breakfast Frenchy cracked his whip with +a great flourish and four very dejected-looking prisoners started down +the tote road securely roped to the rear of the tote wagon, at the end +gate of which sat Hurley, rifle in hand and legs a-dangle as he puffed +contentedly at his short black pipe. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BOSS OF CAMP TWO + + +Slue Foot Magee, who was to boss Camp Two, was a man of ambling gait and +a chronic grumble. He arrived with the vanguard of the new crew a +half-hour before dinner time, grumbled because grub wasn't ready, +growled when he learned that the buildings at Camp Two were not entirely +completed, and fumed because Hurley had told him to leave fifteen of his +fifty men at Camp One. + +"What's the use of pickin' out a crew an' then scatterin' 'em all over +the woods?" he demanded querulously of Connie, as they stood in the door +of the boss's camp while the men washed up for dinner. "If Hurley wants +thirty-five men in Camp Two an' fifty in Camp One why don't he send Camp +One's crew up to Two an' leave me have Camp One?" + +"I don't know," answered the boy, and refrained from mentioning that he +was mighty glad Hurley had not ordered it so. + +Slue Foot slanted him a keen glance. "Be you the kid Hurley was tellin' +nailed them I. W. W.'s that he was fetchin' out of the woods when we +come in this mornin'?" + +Connie nodded: "Yes, Saginaw Ed and I caught 'em." + +"Purty smart kid, hain't you? What's Hurley payin' you?" + +"Forty dollars a month." + +"An' no rake-off on the wanagan. There's plenty room in the woods to use +brains--same as anywheres else." Slue Foot turned at the sound of the +dinner gong. "Let's go eat while there's some left. When we come back +I'll give you the names." + +During the meal Connie furtively studied the new boss. He was fully as +large as Hurley, and slovenly in movement and appearance. His restless +eyes darted swift glances here, there, and everywhere, and never a +glance but registered something of disapproval. But it was the man's +words that most interested the boy. Why had he asked what Hurley was +paying him? And what did he mean by his observation that there was no +rake-off on the wanagan? Also, there was his reference to the fact that +in the woods there was plenty of room for brains. That might mean +anything or nothing. + +"At any rate," thought the boy, as he attacked his food, "you're going +to be a pretty good man to throw in with--for a while." + +Presently the man pushed back his bench and arose: "If you ever git that +holler in under yer ribs filled up we'll go over an' I'll give you the +names of the men that stays here an' the ones that goes on with me." + +"'Lead on, MacDuff,'" grinned Connie, misquoting a line from a play +Waseche Bill had taken him to see in Fairbanks. + +"Magee's my name," corrected the man gruffly, and led the way to the +office. + +It was only after much deliberation and growling that Slue Foot finally +succeeded in rearranging his crew, but at last the task was completed +and Connie leaned back in his chair. + +"So you think there ain't going to be any rake-off on the wanagan?" he +asked, as the man sat scowling at his list of names. Slue Foot glanced +up quickly and the boy met the glance with a wink: "I thought maybe----" + +"It don't make no difference what you thought mebbe!" the man +interrupted. "If you know'd Hurley like I do you'd know a whole lot +better'n to try it." Connie looked disappointed and the boss eyed him +intently. + +"They's other ways of killin' a cat without you choke him to death on +butter," he observed drily, and lapsed into silence while the restless +gimlet eyes seemed to bore into the boy's very thoughts. + +Suddenly the man brought his fist down with a bang upon the top of the +pine desk: "Why should Hurley be drawin' down his big money, an' me an' +you our seventy-five an' forty a month?" he demanded. + +"Well, he's the boss, and they say he can get out the logs." + +"I'm a boss, too! An' I kin git out the logs!" he roared. "I was bossin' +camps when Hurley was swampin'." Again he paused and regarded the boy +shrewdly. "Mind you, I hain't sayin' Hurley hain't a good logger, 'cause +he is. But jest between me and you there's a hull lot about this here +timber game that he hain't hep to. Any one kin draw down wages workin' +in the woods--but if you want to make a real stake out of the game +you've got to learn how to play both ends ag'in' the middle. An' that's +where the brains comes in." + +"That's why I thought----" + +"--you could soak it to 'em on the wanagan an' shove the rake-off in +your pocket," finished the man. "Well, you'd better fergit it! Some +bosses would stand fer it, but not Hurley. He'd tumble to yer game in a +minute, an' you'd be hikin' down the tote road with yer turkey on yer +back a-huntin' a new job." + +"Do you mean there's nothing in it for me but my forty dollars a month?" +asked Connie, with apparent disgust. + +"M-m-m-m, well, that depends," muttered Slue Foot. "Be you goin' to keep +the log book, or Hurley?" + +"I am. He told me the other day he'd show me about that later." + +"They'll be a little somethin', mebbe, in shadin' the cut when the time +comes--nothin' big, but enough to double our wages. Wait 'til the crew +gits strung out an' layin' 'em down an' we'll fix that up." + +"Will the scaler throw in with us?" ventured the boy. + +"What! Lon Camden! Not on yer life, he won't! Hurley picked him, an' he +picked Saginaw Ed, too. What you an' me do we got to do alone." + +Connie smiled: "Yes, but he picked you, and he picked me, too." + +"He did," agreed the other, with a leer. "I don't know nawthin' about +why he picked you, but he give me a job 'cause he thinks I done him a +good turn onct. Over in Idaho, it was, an' we was gittin' out logs on +the Fieldin' slope. Old Man Fieldin' had a contrac' which if he didn't +fill it by a certain day, he'd lose it, an' the Donahue crowd that was +operatin' further down would deliver their logs an' take over the +contrac'. That's when I got it in fer Hurley. Him an' me was working fer +Fieldin' an' he made Hurley boss of a camp he'd ort to give to me. + +"The Donahue crowd worked politics an' got holt of the water rights on +Elk Creek, an' Fieldin' couldn't float his logs. It looked like it was +good-night fer Fieldin' an' his contrac' but Hurley grabbed all the men +he could git holt of an' started buildin' a flume. Old Man Fieldin' said +it couldn't be done, but fer Hurley to go ahead, 'cause he was ruint +anyhow. So Hurley worked us night and day, an' by gosh, he built the +flume an' got his logs a-runnin'! + +"When the flume was up the Donahues seen they was beat, so they come to +me an' offered me a bunch of coin if I'd blow it up. It was resky 'cause +Hurley was expectin' some such play, an' he had it guarded. But I got on +guardin' nights an' I planted the dynamite and got the wires strung, an' +it was all set. Then I went an' overplayed my hand. I thought I seen the +chanct to git even with Hurley, as well as Old Man Fieldin', an' make me +a nice little stake besides. So I tips it off to Hurley that I seen a +fellow sneakin' around suspicious an' he'd better take the shift where +I'd be'n, hisself. You see, I made it up with the Donahues to send three +of their men over to explode the shot so I'd have a alibi, an' I +figgered that Hurley'd run onto 'em, an' they'd give him an' awful +lickin'." The man paused and crammed tobacco into his pipe. + +"And did he?" asked Connie, eagerly + +"Naw, he didn't he!" growled the man. "He run onto 'em all right--an' +when the rookus was over the hull three of 'em was took to the +horspital. When it comes to mixin' it up, Hurley, he's there. He found +the dynamite, too, an' after that the guards was so thick along that +flume that one couldn't do nawthin' without the next ones could see what +he was up to. + +"Fieldin's logs was delivered on time an' the old man handed Hurley a +check fer twenty-five hundred dollars over an' above his wages. Hurley +slipped me five hundred fer tellin' him--but I'd of got five thousan' if +I'd of blow'd up the flume. I had to skip the country 'fore them three +got out of the horspital, an' I've swore to git even with Hurley ever +since--an' I'll do it too. One more winter like last winter, an' they +won't no outfit have him fer a boss." + +It was with difficulty Connie refrained from asking what had happened +last winter but he was afraid of arousing the man's suspicion by +becoming too inquisitive, so he frowned: "That's all right as far as +your getting even with Hurley, but it don't get me anything." + +Slue Foot leaned forward in his chair: "I see you've got yer eye on the +main chanct, an' that shows you've got somethin' in your noodle. Folks +can talk all they want to, but the only thing that's any good is money. +Them that's got it is all right, an' them that hain't got it is nowhere. +Take Hurley, he's got the chanct to make his everlastin' stake right +here, an' he's passin' it up. The owner of this here trac' lives up in +Alaska or somewheres, an' he hain't a loggin' man nohow--an' here Hurley +would set and let him git rich--offen Hurley's work, mind you--an' all +Hurley gits out of it is his wages. An' if you throw in with him you'll +go out in the spring with yer forty dollars a month minus yer wanagan +tab." + +"Guess that's right," agreed the boy. "I'd like to make a lot of money, +but it looks like there's nothin' doing in this camp." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the man. "I'm a-goin' to git mine, an' the +way things is, I kin use a party about your size that kin keep his eyes +open and his mouth shet. Looks like, from here, they might be +considerable in it fer you, long about spring." He paused and glanced +about the office. "You sleep in here don't you?" Connie nodded, and +Slue Foot seemed satisfied, "I kin use you, 'cause you're right here on +the job where you kin keep tab on the boss, an' Saginaw, an' Lon +Camden." The man paused abruptly and peered through the window. + +"What's the game?" asked Connie boldly. "I can't do any good going it +blind." + +The man silenced him with a gesture: "Shet up! Here comes Saginaw. +That'll keep 'til later. Meanwhile, it don't pay fer me an' you to seem +none too friendly. When any one's around I'll kick an' growl about the +books and you sass me back." He rose from his chair and was stamping +about the room when Saginaw entered. + +"Here it's took a good hour to git them names down that any one with +half sense had ort to got down in fifteen minutes! If you can't check in +them supplies no quicker'n what you kin write down names, the grub will +rot before we git it onloaded. Come on, we'll go up to the camp an' git +at it." + +The man turned to greet the newcomer. "Hello Saginaw! I hear you're a +boss now. Well, good luck to you. How's the new camp, 'bout ready?" + +"Yes, a couple of days will finish her up. Yer storehouse an' men's +camp, an' cook's camp is done, so you can go ahead an' move in." + +Slue Foot scowled: "I seen Hurley comin' out an' he says I should leave +you fifteen men out of my crew, so I done it. Seems funny he'd give a +green boss the biggest crew, but he's got you right here where he kin +keep his eye on you, so I s'pose he knows what he's doin'." + +"I 'spect he does," agreed Saginaw. "When you git to camp send them men +back with mine." + +Slue Foot nodded. "Well come on, kid," he ordered, gruffly. "We'll go up +on the tote wagon." + +Connie picked up his book and followed, and as he went out the door he +turned to see Saginaw regarding him curiously. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SAGINAW ED IN THE TOILS + + +Connie hoped that during the ride to Camp Two Slue Foot would further +enlighten him concerning his various schemes for defrauding his +employers, but the man sat silent, eyeing the tall pines that flanked +the roadway on either side. + +"Pretty good timber, isn't it?" ventured the boy, after a time. + +The boss nodded: "They hain't much of them kind left. If I owned this +trac' an' could afford to pay taxes I'd never lay down a stick of it fer +ten year--mebbe twenty." + +"Why not?" + +"Why not! 'Cause it'll be worth ten dollars where it's worth a dollar +now--that's why. Pine's a-goin' up every year, an' they've cut the best +of it everywheres except here an' there a strip that fer one reason an' +another they couldn't git holt of." + +"The Syndicate's cutting theirs now, and surely they can afford to pay +taxes." + +Slue Foot grinned: "They wouldn't be cuttin' their white pine along +Dogfish if this trac' wasn't bein' cut." + +"What's that got to do with it?" + +"Mebbe if you kind of stick around, like I told you, you'll see. I'm one +of these here hairpins that never tells no one nawthin' about anythin' +'til the time comes--see?" + +"You're all right, Slue Foot," laughed the boy. "I guess I'll stick +around." + +"It's a good thing fer you you got sense enough to know who to tie to. +No one never made nawthin' workin' fer wages--an' no one ever will." + +As they drew into Camp Two's clearing Slue Foot cocked a weatherwise eye +skyward. "Shouldn't wonder an' the snow'll be comin' tonight or +tomorrow--them clouds looks like it. Come on, le's git at them supplies. +They's two wagons in a'ready an' two more comin' an' we want to git 'em +onloaded by night." + +Slue Foot called a dozen men to help with the unloading and stowing, +and for the rest of the afternoon Connie had his hands full checking off +the goods as they were carried past him at the door. At last the task +was completed and after supper the boy struck out for Camp One. As he +plodded through the jet blackness of the tote road his mind was busy +with the problem that confronted him. What should he do? Manifestly the +easiest course would be to go straight to Hurley and tell him just what +Slue Foot had told him, and let the boss deal with him as he saw fit. +But, in that case Hurley would, in all probability, fly off the handle +and either discharge Slue Foot or "beat him up" or both. In which event +the man would go unpunished for last winter's work, whatever that had +been, and worst of all, there would be absolutely no evidence against +the Syndicate. And he had no intention of pocketing last year's loss +without at least an attempt to recover it and bring its perpetrators to +justice. + +From what he had seen of Hurley, and what Saginaw and Slue Foot had told +him, the boy was confident that the big boss was square and honest as +the day is long--but there was Mike Gillum, himself an honest man and a +friend of Waseche, who had reported that Hurley was in the pay of the +Syndicate; and Connie knew that men like Mike Gillum did not lie about +other men, nor would they make an open accusation unless reasonably sure +of their ground. Therefore there was a bare possibility that, despite +all evidence to the contrary, Hurley, unknown to either Slue Foot or +Saginaw, was playing into the hand of the Syndicate. + +"I wonder what's the matter with Saginaw," muttered the boy as he +stumbled on through the darkness. "He looked at me kind of funny when we +left the office. As if he knows Slue Foot is crooked, and thinks I have +thrown in with him." His fists clenched and his lips drew into a hard, +straight line. "I'll get to the bottom of it if it takes all winter!" he +gritted. "And when I do, someone is going to squirm." Something prickled +sharply against his cheek and he glanced upward. He could see nothing in +the inky blackness, but the prickling sensation was repeated and he knew +that it was snowing. The wind rose and the snow fell faster. By the time +he reached the clearing it whitened the ground. The little office was +dark as he let himself in. The sound of heavy breathing told him that +Saginaw was already in bed, and, without lighting the lamp, he undressed +and crawled between his blankets. + +When Connie awoke the following morning the fire was burning brightly in +the stove and Saginaw stood staring out through the little window that +showed a translucent grey square against the dark log wall. He turned at +the sound of the boy's feet upon the floor. "Snow's held off fer a long +time this year, but when she come she come a-plenty," he observed. + +"Still snowing?" asked the boy, as he wriggled into his clothing. "It +started last night while I was coming down from Camp Two." + +"Yeh, it's still snowin.' Foot deep a'ready an' comin' down in fine +flakes an' slantin' like she's a-goin' to keep on snowin'!" + +"Are you going to begin laying 'em down today?" + +Saginaw shook his head: "No. I'm a-goin' to set 'em overhaulin' the +sleds, an' the sprinkler, an' the drays, an' gittin' the skidways in +shape, an' breakin' out the road. It's cold enough fer to make a good +bottom an' things ort to go a-whoopin' when this snow lets up." + +Connie snickered. "I bet Slue Foot's growling this morning, with no roof +on his office and blacksmith shop, and his stable and oat house only +about half chinked." + +"He'd growl if his camp was 'lectric lit an' steam het. I'm ready fer +breakfast, if the cook's saved us some. You go on over an' I'll be 'long +when I git the men strung out." Saginaw filled the stove with chunks and +together they left the office, the older man heading for the men's camp, +while Connie made directly for the cook's camp. As the boy lowered his +head to the sting of the sweeping snow and plodded across the clearing, +a feeling of great loneliness came over him, for he knew that there +lurked in the man's mind a feeling of distrust--a feeling that he had +studiously attempted to conceal. Nothing in the spoken words revealed +this distrust, but the boy was quick to note that the voice lacked +something of the hearty comradery that had grown up between them. + +"This is almost like Alaska," Connie muttered, as he breathed deeply of +the clean, cold air. "I wish I was in Ten Bow right now--with Waseche +Bill, and MacDougall, and Dutch Henry and the rest of 'em--or else over +on the Yukon with Big Dan McKeever, and Rickey." The boy's fists +clenched within his mittens, as was their habit when he faced a +difficult situation. "If it wasn't that Waseche is depending on me to +straighten out this mess, I'd strike out for Ten Bow today. But I've +just naturally got to see it through--and I've got to go it alone, too. +If I should let Saginaw in, and it should turn out that Hurley is +crooked, my chance of nailing him would be shot, because Saginaw and +Hurley are one, two, three. + +"The first thing I better do," he decided, as he stamped the snow from +his boots before the door of the cook's camp, "is to slip up and see +Mike Gillum and find out how he knows Hurley is in the pay of the +Syndicate." + +During the breakfast the boy was unusually silent and when the meal was +finished he returned directly to the office, and stood for a long time +staring out into the whirling white smother. As he turned to his desk +his eye encountered Hurley's snow-shoes hanging from their peg on the +opposite wall. "It's only ten miles to Willow River," he muttered, "and +I've just got to see Mike Gillum." + +A moment later he stepped through the door, fastened on the snow-shoes +and, hastening across the clearing, plunged into the timber. + +It was nearly noon when Saginaw Ed returned to the office and found it +empty. Almost instantly he noticed that the boss's snow-shoes were +missing and he grinned: "Kid's out practising on the rackets, I guess." +Then he stepped to the door. The snow had continued to fall +steadily--fine, wind-driven flakes that pile up slowly. The trail was +very faint, and as the man's eye followed it across the clearing his +brows drew into a puzzled frown. "That don't look like no practice +trail," he muttered. "No, sir! They ain't no greener ever yet started +off like that." He pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger and +scowled at the trail. "One of two things: Either the kid ain't the +greener he lets on to be, or else someone else has hiked off on the +boss's snow-shoes. An' either which way, it's up to me to find out." +Crossing swiftly to the cook shack he returned a few minutes later, the +pockets of his mackinaw bulging with lunch, and drawing his own +snow-shoes from beneath his bunk, struck out upon the fast dimming +trail. + +"I mistrust Slue Foot, an' I didn't like the way he started to bawl out +the kid yeste'day. It seemed kind of like it wasn't straight goods. He's +a beefer an' a growler, all right, but somehow, this time it seemed as +if it was kind of piled on fer my special benefit." + +In the timber, sheltered from the sweep of the wind, the track had not +drifted full, but threaded the woods in a broad, trough-like depression +that the woodsman easily followed. Mile after mile it held to the north, +dipping into deep ravines, skirting thick windfalls, and crossing steep +ridges. As the trail lengthened the man's face hardened. "Whoever's +a-hikin' ahead of me ain't no greener an' he ain't walkin' fer fun, +neither. He's travellin' as fast as I be, an' he knows where he's +a-goin', too." He paused at the top of a high ridge and smote a heavily +mittened palm with a mittened fist. "So that's the way of it, eh? I +heard how the Syndicate was runnin' a big camp on Willow River--an' this +here's the Willow River divide. They ain't only one answer, the kid, or +whoever it is I'm a-follerin', has be'n put in here by the Syndicate to +keep cases on Hurley's camps--either that, or Slue Foot's in with 'em, +an' is usin' the kid fer a go-between. They're pretty smart, all right, +headin' way up to this here Willow River camp. They figgered that no one +wouldn't pay no 'tention to a trail headin' north, while if it led over +to the Syndicate camp on Dogfish someone would spot it in a minute. An' +with it snowin' like this, they figgered the trail would drift full, or +else look so old no one would bother about it. They ain't only one thing +to do, an' that's to go ahead an' find out. What a man knows is worth a +heap more'n what he can guess. They's a-goin' to be some big surprises +on Dogfish 'fore this winter's over, an' some folks is a-goin' to wish +they'd of be'n smarter--or stayed honester." + +Saginaw descended the slope and, still following the trail, walked +steadily for an hour. Suddenly he paused to listen. Distinctly to his +ears came the measured thud of pounded iron, punctuated at regular +intervals by the metallic ring of a hammer upon an anvil. "It's the +Syndicate's Willow River camp," he muttered, and advanced cautiously. +Presently he gained the clearing and, skirting it, halted at the edge of +a log road that reached back into the timber. The man noted that whoever +made the trail had made no attempt to conceal his visit from the +Syndicate crew, for the tracks struck into the road which led directly +into the clearing. Not a soul was in sight and, hurriedly crossing the +road, Saginaw continued to skirt the clearing until he arrived at a +point directly opposite a small building that stood by itself midway +between the men's camp and the stable. "That had ort to be the office," +he said as he studied the lay of the camp and the conformation of the +ground. Several large piles of tops lay between the edge of the clearing +and the small building, against the back of which had been placed a huge +pile of firewood. Across the clearing upon the bank of the river a crew +of men were engaged in levelling off the rollways, and other men were +busy about the open door of the blacksmith shop, where the forge fire +burned brightly. The storm had thinned to a scarcely perceptible +downfall and the rising wind whipped the smoke from the stovepipe of the +building. "I've got to find out who's in that office," he decided and, +suiting the action to the word, moved swiftly from one pile of tops to +another, until he gained the shelter of the woodpile. + +It is a very risky thing to peer into the window of a small room +occupied by at least two people in broad daylight, and it was with the +utmost caution that Saginaw removed his cap and applied his eye to the +extreme corner of the pane. Seated facing each other, close beside the +stove, were Connie and Mike Gillum. The boss's hand was upon the boy's +knee and he was talking earnestly. At the sight Saginaw could scarce +refrain from venting his anger in words. He had seen enough and, dodging +quickly back, retraced his steps, and once more gained the shelter of +the timber. + +"So that's yer game, is it, you sneakin' little spy? Takin' advantage of +Hurley the minute his back's turned! You've got him fooled, all right. +An' you had me fooled, too. You're a smart kid, but you ain't quite +smart enough. You can't do no harm now we're onto yer game, an' 'fore +them logs hits the water in the spring yer goin' to find out you ain't +the only smart one in the timber--you an' Slue Foot, too." + +It was well past the middle of the afternoon when Saginaw took the back +trail and struck out at a long swinging walk for the camp on Dogfish. +The flash of anger, engendered by the sight of the boy in friendly +conference with the boss of the Syndicate camp, gave way to keen +disappointment as he tramped on and on through the timber. He had liked +Connie from the first, and as the days went by his regard for the boy, +whose brains and nerve had won the respect and admiration of the whole +camp, grew. "I've a good mind to git him off to one side an' give him a +good straight talk. He ain't like that Steve. Why, doggone it! I +couldn't feel no worse about findin' out he's headed wrong, if he was my +own boy. An' if he was my own boy, it would be my job to talk things +over with him an' try to steer him straight, instead of layin' for to +catch him in some crooked work an' send him over the road for it. By +gum, I'll do it, too! An' I'll give it to him right straight, without no +fancy trimmin's neither. Tonight'll be a good time when him an' I'll be +alone." + +His cogitations had carried him to within a mile of Camp Two, which the +trail carefully avoided, when suddenly, at the bottom of a deep ravine, +a man stepped in front of him: + +"Hands up!" It was some seconds before Saginaw realized that he was +staring straight into the muzzle of a rifle that the man held within six +inches of his nose. Two other men stepped from behind trees and joined +the leader. + +"Makes a difference which end of the gun yer at when ye hear them words, +don't it?" sneered the man, and in the deep twilight of the thick woods +Saginaw recognized the men as the three I. W. W.'s that he and Connie +had arrested in their attempt to burn the stable. Also he recognized the +boss's rifle. + +"Where's Hurley?" he cried, as full realization of the situation forced +itself upon him. + +"I said _'hands up'!_" reminded the man with the gun, "an' I meant it. +An' if I wus you I'd put 'em up. I guess when we git through with ye +ye'll think twict before ye lock folks up in a oat house to freeze to +death all night--you an' that smart alec kid." + +"Where's Hurley?" repeated Saginaw, with arms upraised. + +The man laughed, coarsely: "Hurley, we fixed his clock fer him. An' +we'll fix yourn, too. We'll learn ye to fool with the I. W. W. when it's +a-goin' about its business. An' we'll learn everyone else, too. We're +stronger 'n the law, an' stronger 'n the Government, an' when we git +ready we'll show the bosses an' the capitalists where to git off at!" + +"You're a bunch of dirty crooks, an' thieves, an' murderers--an' you +ain't got the brains to show nobody nawthin'." + +"Search him!" commanded the leader, his face livid with rage. "We'll +show you somethin', 'fore we git through with you--jest like we showed +Hurley. Come on, now, git a move on. We got to see a party an' git holt +of some grub. 'Fore we git started, though, ye kin jest take off them +snow-shoes, I kin use 'em myself, an' you kin see how it feels to waller +through the snow like we be'n doin'." The transfer was soon +accomplished, and marching Saginaw before them, the three headed off at +a right angle from the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CONNIE DOES SOME TRAILING + + +Connie Morgan halted abruptly and stared down at the snow. At the point +where, a couple of hours before, he had emerged into the tote road, +another, fresher, snow-shoe track crossed the road and struck out upon +his back trail. For some moments he studied the track, his trained eye +taking every slightest detail. "Whoever it was followed my trail to +here, and for some reason didn't want to follow it on into the clearing. +So he kept on, and it wasn't long before he took the back trail." He +bent closer, and when he once more stood erect his face was very grave. +"It's Saginaw," he muttered. "I helped him restring that left racket." +Swiftly the boy followed the tracks to the point where the man had +struck into the clearing at the rear of the little office. "He followed +me and found me talking to Mike Gillum." + +[Illustration: SWIFTLY THE BOY FOLLOWED THE TRACKS TO THE POINT WHERE +THE MAN HAD STRUCK INTO THE CLEARING.] + +As Connie struck out on the back trail he smiled grimly: "Gee, I bet he +thinks I'm a bad one. He knows the Syndicate put one over on Hurley last +winter, and now he thinks I'm hand in glove with 'em. I would like to +have run this thing down alone, but I guess I'll have to let Saginaw in +on it now. Maybe he won't believe me, and maybe Hurley won't, and then +I'll get fired! Anyhow, he broke a good trail for me," grinned the boy +as he swung swiftly through the timber. Travelling light, he made rapid +progress, and as he walked, his brain was busy trying to solve his +riddle of the woods. Mike Gillum had told him that he had worked on +several jobs with Hurley, that he was a good lumberman, that he could +handle men, and get out the logs. Knowing this, he had recommended him +to Waseche Bill, as foreman of his camp. Gillum said that by accident he +had seen Hurley's name on the Syndicate pay roll and had asked one of +the clerks in the office about it, and that the clerk had winked and +told him that Hurley was well worth all the Syndicate paid him because +he was boss of an independent outfit that was logging up on Dogfish. It +was then that Gillum had written to Waseche Bill. He had known nothing +of the latter's loss of last winter until Connie had told him at the +time of their first meeting. Despite the man's statements, Connie could +not bring himself to believe that Hurley was guilty. "There's a mistake +somewhere," he muttered as he trudged on, "and I've got to find out +where. I can't let Hurley in on it, because he's hot-headed and he'd +jump in and spoil every chance we had of catching the real culprit, or, +if he is mixed up in it, he'd have all the chance in the world to cover +his tracks so I never could prove anything on him. But he isn't guilty!" +This last was uttered aloud and with the emphasis of conviction. For the +life of him the boy could not have given a good and sufficient reason +for this conviction. Indeed, all reason was against it. But the +conviction was there, and the reason for the conviction was there--even +if the boy could not have told it--and it ran a great deal deeper than +he knew. + +From the moment three years before, when he had landed, a forlorn and +friendless little figure, upon the dock at Anvik, he had been thrown +among men--men crude and rough as the land they lived in. His daily +associates had been good men--and bad. He had known good men with +deplorable weaknesses, and bad men with admirable virtues. In his +association with these men of the lean, lone land the boy had +unconsciously learned to take keen measure of men. And, having taken his +measure, he accepted a man at his worth. The boy knew that Mike Gillum +had not lied to him--that under no circumstances would he lie to injure +another. But, despite the man's positive statement, Connie's confidence +in Hurley remained unshaken. Hurley had assumed a definite place in his +scheme of things, and it would take evidence much more tangible than an +unsubstantiated statement to displace him. + +Under the heavily overcast sky and the thickly interlaced branches of +the pines, daylight passed into twilight, and twilight fast deepened to +darkness as the boy pushed on through the forest. Suddenly he halted. To +his surprise, the trail he was following turned abruptly to the west. He +knew that the fresher tracks of Saginaw's snow-shoes had been laid over +his own back trail, and he knew that he had made no right angle turn in +his trip to Willow River. Bending close to the snow he made out in the +deep gloom other tracks--the tracks of three men who had not worn +snow-shoes. The three had evidently intercepted Saginaw and a powwow had +ensued, for there had been much trampling about in the snow. Then +Saginaw had abandoned his course and accompanied the men to the +westward. + +[Illustration: THE BOY HASTENED UNNOTICED TO THE EDGE OF A CROWD OF MEN +THAT ENCIRCLED FRENCHY LAMAR.] + +"Camp Two is west of here," muttered the boy. "I guess the men were part +of Slue Foot's crew, and he went over to the camp with 'em." Darkness +prevented him from noting that the trail that led to the westward was a +clumsier trail than Saginaw would have made, or he never would have +dismissed the matter so lightly from his mind. As it was, he continued +upon his course for Camp One, where he arrived nearly an hour later to +find the camp in a turmoil. The boy hastened, unnoticed, to the edge of +a crowd of men that encircled Frenchy Lamar, who talked as fast as he +could in an almost unintelligible jargon, which he punctuated with +shrugs, and wild-flung motions of his arms. + +[Illustration] + +"_Oui_, dat be'n w'en de las' of de Camp Two tote teams be'n pass 'bout +de half hour. We com' 'long by de place w'er de road she twis' 'roun an' +slant down de steep ravine. Woof! Rat on de trail stan' de leetle black +bear, an', _Sacre!_ Ma leaders git so scare dey stan' oop on de hine leg +lak dey gon for dance. Dey keek, dey jomp, dey plonge, an', _Voila!_ Dem +wheelers git crazy too. I'm got ma han' full, an' plenty mor', too, an' +de nex' t'ing I'm fin' out dey jomp de wagon oop on de beeg stomp an' +she teep ovaire so queek lak you kin say Jac Robinshon. Crack! Ma reach +she brek in two an' ma front ax' she git jerk loose from de wagon an' de +nex' t'ing I'm drag by de lines 'cross de creek so fas' dat tear ma +coat, ma shirt, ma pants mos' lak de ribbon. I'm bomp ma head, an' lose +ma cap, an' scratch ma face, but by gar, I'm hang holt de lines, an' +by-m-by dem horse dey git tire to haul me roun' by de mout', and dey +stan' still a minute on top de odder side. I'm look back an', _Sacre!_ +Hurley is lay on de groun' an' de boss I. W. W. is hit heem on de head +wit' de gon. De res' is cuttin' loose deir han's. I'm yell on dem to +queet poun' on de boss head, wit de rifle, an' de nex' t'ing I'm know: +Zing! de bullet com' so clos' eet mak de win' on ma face, an' de nex' +t'ing, Zing! Dat bullet she sting de horse an' I'm just got tam to jomp +oop on de front ax', an' de horses start out lak she got far business +away from here queek. Dey ron so fas' I'm got to hol' on wit' ma han's, +wit' ma feet! Dem horses ron so fas' lak de train, dem wheels jomp +feefty feet high, an' dey only com' on de groun' 'bout once every half a +mile an' den I'm git poun', an' bomp, an' rattle, 'til I'm so black lak +de, w'at you call, de niggaire! + +"De neares' doctaire, she down to Birch Lak'. I'm leave ma team een de +store-keeper stable, an' Ol' Man Niles she say de train don' stop no +mor' today, so I can't go to Birch Lak' 'til mornin'. I t'ink, by gar, +I'm mak' de train stop, so I'm push de beeg log on de track an' lay on +ma belly in de weeds, an' pret' soon de train com' long an' she see de +beeg log an' she stop queek, an' dey all ron opp front an' I'm climb on +an' tak' de seat in de smokaire. De train go 'long w'en dey git de log +shov' off, an' de conductaire, he com' long an' seen me sit dere. +'We're you git on dis train?' she say, an' I'm tell heem I'm git on to +Dogfish, w'en de train stop. 'I'm goin' to Birch Lak' for git de +doctaire for man w'at git keel,' I'm say, an' he say de train don' stop +to Birch Lak', neider. She t'rough train, an' we'n we git to de firs' +stop, she gon' for hav' me arres'. I ain' say no mor' an' I'm look out +de window, an' de conductaire she go an' set down in de back of de car. +De train she gon' ver' fas' an' by-m-by she com' to de breege, an' Birch +Lak' is wan half mile. + +"I'm travel on de car before, an' I'm see dem stop de train mor' as once +to put off de lumbaire-jack w'en dey git to fightin' _Voila!_ I'm jomp +oop on ma feet ver' queek an' pull two, t'ree tam on de leetle rope, an' +de las' tam I'm pull so hard she bre'k in two. De train she stop so +queek she mak' fellers bomp 'roun' in de seat, an' de conductaire she so +mad she lak to bus', an' she holler ver' mooch, an' com' ronnin' down de +middle. She ain' ver' beeg man, an' I'm reach down queek, de nex' t'ing +she know she light on de head in de middle w'ere four fellers is playin' +cards. Den, I'm ron an' jomp off de car an' fin' de doctaire. Dat +gittin' dark, now, an' she startin' to snow, an' de doctaire she say we +can't go to Dogfish 'til mornin', day ain' no mor' train. I'm see de +han' car down by de track, but de doctaire she say we ain' can tak' dat +for 'cause we git arres'. But I'm laugh on heem, an' I'm say I'm tak' +dat han' car, 'cause I'm got to git arres' anyhow--but firs' dey got to +ketch--eh? So I'm tak' a rock an' bus' de lock an' we lif' her on de +track an' com' to Dogfish. Ol' Man Niles she tak' hees team an' gon' oop +an' got Hurley an' de cookee, an' breeng heem to de store. De doctaire +she feex de boss oop, an' she say eef eet ain' for dat cookee stay +'roun' an' mak' de blood quit comin', Hurley she would be dead befor' we +com' long. Dis mornin' I'm tak' ma team an' Ol Man Niles's wagon an' +com' to de camp. Hurley she won' go to de hospital, lak de doctaire say, +so de doctaire she com' 'long. Eet tak' me all day long, de snow she so +d'ep, an' by gar----" + +Connie left in the middle of the Frenchman's discourse and hurried into +the office. In his bunk, with his head swathed in bandages, lay Hurley. +The doctor stood beside the stove and watched Steve feed the injured man +gruel from a spoon. The big boss opened his eyes as the boy entered. He +smiled faintly, and with ever so slight a motion of his head indicated +Steve: "An' I said they wasn't the worth of a lath in his hide," he +muttered and nodded weakly as Connie crossed swiftly to the boy's side +and shook his hand. Hurley's voice dropped almost to a whisper: "I'll be +laid up fer a couple of days. Tell Saginaw to--keep--things--goin'." + +"I'll tell him," answered Connie, grimly, and, as the boss's eyes +closed, stepped to his own bunk and, catching up the service revolver +from beneath the blankets, hurried from the room. + +Connie Morgan was a boy that experience and training had taught to think +quickly. When he left the office it was with the idea of heading a posse +of lumberjacks in the capture of the three I. W. W.'s, for from the +moment he heard of their escape the boy realized that these were the +three men who had intercepted Saginaw Ed on his return from Willow +River. His one thought was to rescue the captive, for well he knew that, +having Saginaw in their power, the thugs would stop at nothing in +venting their hatred upon the helpless man. As he hurried toward the +crowd in front of the men's camp his brain worked rapidly. Fifty men in +the woods at night would make fifty times as much noise as one man. Then +again, what would the men do if they should catch the three? The boy +paused for a moment at the corner of the oat house. There was only one +answer to _that_ question. The answer had been plain even before the +added outrage of the attack upon Hurley--and Hurley was liked by his +men. Stronger than ever became the boy's determination to have the I. W. +W.'s dealt with by the law. There must be no posse. + +His mind swung to the other alternative. If he went alone he could +follow swiftly and silently. The odds would be three against one--but +the three had only one gun between them. He fingered the butt of his +revolver confidently. "I can wing the man with the gun, and then cover +the others," he muttered, "and besides, I'll have all the advantage of +knowing what I'm up against while they think they're safe. Dan McKeever +was strong for that. I guess I'll go it alone." + +Having arrived at this decision the boy crossed the clearing to the +men's camp where he singled out Swede Larson from the edge of the crowd. +"Saginaw and I've got some special work to do," he whispered; "you keep +the men going 'til we get back." Without waiting for a reply, he +hastened to the oat house, fastened on his snow-shoes, and slipped into +the timber. + +It was no hardship, even in the darkness, for him to follow the +snow-shoe trail, and to the point where the others had left it his +progress was rapid. The snow had stopped falling, and great rifts +appeared in the wind-driven clouds. Without hesitation Connie swung into +the trail of the four men. He reasoned that they would not travel far +because when they had intercepted Saginaw there could not have been more +than two or three hours of daylight left. The boy followed swiftly along +the trail, pausing frequently to listen, and as he walked he puzzled +over the fact that the men had returned to the vicinity of the camp, +when obviously they should have made for the railway and placed as much +distance as possible between themselves and the scene of their crimes. +He dismissed the thought of their being lost, for all three were +woodsmen. Why, then, had they returned? + +Suddenly he halted and shrank into the shelter of a windfall. Upon the +branches of the pine trees some distance ahead his eye caught the faint +reflection of a fire. + +Very cautiously he left the trail and, circling among the trees, +approached the light from the opposite direction. Nearer and nearer he +crept until he could distinctly see the faces of the four men. Crouching +behind a thick tree trunk, he could see that the men had no blankets, +and that they huddled close about the fire. He could see Saginaw with +his hands tied, seated between two of the others. Suddenly, beyond the +fire, apparently upon the back trail of the men, a twig snapped. +Instantly one of the three leaped up, rifle in hand, and disappeared in +the woods. Connie waited in breathless suspense. Had Swede Larson +followed him? Or had someone else taken up the trail? In a few moments +the man returned and, taking Saginaw by the arm, jerked him roughly to +his feet and, still gripping the rifle, hurried him into the woods away +from the trail. They passed close to Connie, and the boy thanked his +lucky star that he had circled to the north instead of the south, or +they would have immediately blundered onto his trail. A short distance +further on, and just out of sight of the camp fire, they halted, and +the man gave a low whistle. Instantly another man stepped into the +circle of the firelight--a man bearing upon his back a heavily laden +pack surmounted by several pairs of folded blankets. He tossed the pack +into the snow and greeted the two men who remained at the fire with a +grin. Then he produced a short black pipe, and, as he stooped to pick up +a brand from the fire, Connie stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. + +The newcomer was the boss of Camp Two! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CONNIE FINDS AN ALLY + + +"Wher's Pierce?" asked Slue Foot Magee, as he glanced down upon the two +figures that crouched close about the little fire. + +"He went on ahead to hunt a place to camp. We waited to pack the stuff," +lied the man, nodding toward the pack sack that the boss of Camp Two had +deposited in the snow. + +"I sure was surprised when Sam, here, popped out of the woods an' told +me ye'd got away an' needed blankets an' grub. Wha'd ye do to Hurley? +An' how come ye didn't hit fer the railroad an' make yer git-away?" + +"We beat Hurley up a-plenty so'st he won't be in no hurry to take no I. +W. W.'s nowheres ag'in. An' as fer hittin' fer the railroad, it's too +cold fer to ride the rods or the bumpers, an' we hain't got a dollar +between us. You'll have to stake us fer the git-away." + +Slue Foot frowned: "I hain't got a cent, neither. Come into the woods on +credick--an' hain't draw'd none." + +"That's a fine mess we're in!" exclaimed the leader angrily. "How fer d' +ye figger we're a-goin' to git on what little grub ye fetched in that +pack? An' wher' we goin' to--bein' as we're broke? We hit back fer you +'cause we know'd ye stood strong in the organization an' we had a right +to think ye'd see us through." + +"I'll see ye through!" growled Slue Foot, impatiently. "But I can't give +ye nawthin' I hain't got, kin I?" He stood for a few moments staring +into the fire, apparently in deep thought. "I've got it!" he exclaimed. +"The Syndicate's got a camp 'bout ten mile north of here on Willer +River. They're short handed an' the boss'll hire anything he kin git. +Seen him in town 'fore I come out, an' he wanted to hire me, but I was +already hired to Hurley--got a boss's job, too, an' that's better'n what +I'd got out of him. If youse fellers hadn't of be'n in such a hurry to +pull somethin' an' had of waited 'til I come, ye wouldn't of botched the +job an' got caught." + +"Is that so!" flared the leader. "I s'pose we'd ort to know'd ye was +goin' to be hired on this job! An' I s'pose our instructions is not to +pull no rough stuff onless you're along to see it's done right!" + +"They hain't nawthin' in standin' 'round argerin'," interrupted Slue +Foot. "What I was a-goin' on to say is that youse better hike on up to +Willer River an' git ye a job. There's grub enough in the pack to last +ye twict that fer." + +"Wher'll we tell the boss we come from? 'Taint in reason we'd hit that +fer into the woods huntin' a job." + +"Tell him ye got sore on me an' quit. If they's any questions asked I'll +back ye up." + +The leader of the I. W. W.'s looked at Sam, and Sam looked at the +leader. They were in a quandary. For reasons of their own they had not +told Slue Foot that they had picked up Saginaw--and with Saginaw on +their hands, how were they going to follow out the boss's suggestion? + +Behind his big tree, Connie Morgan had been an interested listener. He +knew why the men stared blankly at each other, and chuckled to himself +at their predicament. + +"What's to hinder someone from Camp One a-trailin' us up there?" +suggested Sam. + +"Trailin' ye! How they goin' to trail ye? It was a-snowin' clean up to +the time ye got to Camp Two, an' if any one sees yer tracks around there +I'll say I sent some men up that way fer somethin'. An' besides," he +continued, glancing upward where the clouds that had thinned into flying +scuds had thickened again, obliterating the stars, "this storm hain't +over yet. It'll be snowin' ag'in 'fore long an' ye won't leave no more +trail'n a canoe. Anyways, that's the best way I kin think of. If you've +got a better one go to it--I've done all I kin fer ye." There was +finality in Slue Foot's voice as he drew on his mittens, and turned from +the fire. "So long, an' good luck to ye." + +"So long," was the rather surly rejoinder. "If that's the best we kin +do, I s'pose we gotta do it. Mebbe if it starts snowin' we're all right, +an' if we make it, we'll be safer up there than what we would down along +the railroad, anyways. They won't be no one a-huntin' us in the woods." + +"Sure they won't," agreed Slue Foot, as he passed from sight into the +timber. + +The two beside the fire sat in silence until the sound of Slue Foot's +footsteps was swallowed up in the distance. Then Sam spoke: "What we +goin' to do with this here Saginaw?" he asked. + +The leader glanced skyward. "It's startin' to snow--" he leered and, +stopping abruptly, rose to his feet. "Wait till we git Pierce in here." +Producing some pieces of rope from his pocket, he grinned. "Lucky I +fetched these along when I cut 'em off my hands. We'll give him a chanct +to see how it feels to be tied up onct." The man stepped into the timber +and a few minutes later returned accompanied by Pierce, to whom they +immediately began to relate what had passed between them and the boss of +Camp Two. + +The moment they seated themselves about the fire, Connie slipped from +his hiding place behind the tree and stole noiselessly toward the spot +where the men had left Saginaw. Snow was falling furiously now, adding +the bewildering effect of its whirling flakes to the intense blackness +of the woods. Removing his snow-shoes to avoid leaving a wide, flat +trail, the boy stepped into the tracks of the two who had returned to +the fire and, a few moments later, was bending over a dark form that sat +motionless with its back against the trunk of a tree. + +"It's me, Saginaw," he whispered, as the keen edge of his knife blade +severed the ropes that bound the man's hands and feet. + +[Illustration: "WHAT IN THE NAME OF TIME BE YOU DOIN' HERE?" EXCLAIMED +SAGINAW.] + +The man thrust his face close to Connie's in the darkness. "What in the +name of time be you doin' here?" he exclaimed. + +"Sh-sh-sh," whispered the boy. "Come on, we've got to get away in a +hurry. There's no tellin' how soon those fellows will finish their +powwow." + +"What do you mean--git away? When we git away from here we take them +birds along, er my name ain't Saginaw Ed! On top of tryin' to burn up +the camp they've up an' murdered Hurley, an' they'd of done the like by +me, if they'd be'n give time to!" + +"We'll get them, later. I know where they're going. What we've got to do +is to beat it. Step in my tracks so they won't know there were two of +us. They'll think you cut yourself loose and they won't try to follow in +the dark, especially if the storm holds." + +"But them hounds has got my rackets." + +"I've got mine, and when we get away from here I'll put 'em on and break +trail for you." + +"Look a here, you give me yer gun an' I'll go in an' clean up on them +desperadoes. I'll show 'em if the I. W. W.'s is goin' to run the woods! +I'll----" + +"Come on! I tell you we can get 'em whenever we want 'em----" + +"I'll never want 'em no worse'n I do right now." + +"Hurley's all right, I saw him a little while ago." + +"They said they----" + +"I don't care what they said. Hurley's down in the office, right now. +Come on, and when we put a few miles behind us, I'll tell you all you +want to know." + +"You'll tell a-plenty, then," growled Saginaw, only half convinced. "An' +here's another thing--if you're double crossin' me, you're a-goin' to +wish you never seen the woods." + +The boy's only answer was a laugh, and he led, swiftly as the intense +darkness would permit, into the woods. They had gone but a short +distance when he stopped and put on his rackets. After that progress was +faster, and Saginaw Ed, mushing along behind, wondered at the accuracy +with which the boy held his course in the blackness and the whirling +snow. A couple of hours later, Connie halted in the shelter of a thick +windfall. "We can rest up for a while, now," he said, "and I'll tell you +some of things you want to know." + +"Where do you figger we're at?" asked Saginaw, regarding the boy +shrewdly. + +"We're just off the tote road between the two camps," answered the boy +without hesitation. + +A moment of silence followed the words and when he spoke the voice of +Saginaw sounded hard: "I've be'n in the woods all my life, an' it would +of bothered me to hit straight fer camp on a night like this. They's +somethin' wrong here somewheres, kid--an' the time's come fer a +showdown. I don't git you, at all! You be'n passin' yerself off fer a +greener. Ever sence you went out an' got that deer I've know'd you +wasn't--but I figgered it worn't none of my business. Then when you +out-figgered them hounds--that worn't no greener's job, an' I know'd +that--but, I figgered you was all to the good. But things has happened +sence, that ain't all to the good--by a long shot. You've got some +explainin' to do, an' seein' we're so clost to camp, we better go on to +the office an' do it around the stove." + +"We wouldn't get much chance to powwow in the office tonight. Hurley's +there, and the doctor, and Steve, and Lon Camden." + +"The doctor?" + +"Yes, those fellows beat Hurley up pretty bad, but he's coming along all +right. Steve stayed by him, and the doctor said it saved his life." + +"You don't mean that sneakin' cookee that throw'd in with the I. W. +W.?" + +"Yup." + +"Well, I'll be doggoned! But, them bein' in the office don't alter the +case none. We might's well have things open an' above board." + +Connie leaned forward and placed his hand on the man's arm. "What I've +got to say, I want to say to you, and to no one else. I wanted to play +the game alone, but while I was trailing you down from Willow River, I +decided I'd have to let you in on it." + +"You know'd I follered you up there?" + +"Of course I knew it. Didn't I help you string that racket?" + +Saginaw shook his head in resignation. "We might's well have it out +right here," he said. "I don't git you. First off, you figger how to +catch them jaspers with the goods an' lock 'em up. Then you throw in +with Slue Foot. Then you hike up to the Syndicate camp an' is thicker'n +thieves with the boss. Then you pop up in a blizzard in the middle of +the night an' cut me loose. Then you turn 'round an' let them hounds go +when we could of nailed 'em where they set--seems like you've bit off +quite a contract to make all them things jibe. Go ahead an' spit 'er +out--an' believe me, it'll be an earful! First, though, you tell me +where them I. W. W.'s is goin' an' how you know. If I ain't satisfied, +I'm a-goin' to hit right back an' git 'em while the gittin's good." + +"They're going up to work for the Syndicate in the Willow River Camp." + +"Know'd they was loose an' slipped up to git 'em a job, did you?" asked +Saginaw sarcastically. + +Connie grinned. "No. But there's a big job ahead of you and me this +winter--to save the timber and clear Hurley's name." + +"What do you know about Hurley an' the timber?" + +"Not as much as I will by spring. But I do know that we lost $14,000 on +this job last winter. You see, I'm one of the owners." + +"One of the owners!" Saginaw exclaimed incredulously. + +"Yes. I've got the papers here to prove it. You couldn't read 'em in the +dark, so you'll have to take my word for it 'til we get where you can +read 'em. Waseche Bill is my partner and we live in Ten Bow, Alaska. +Soon after Hurley's report reached us, showing the loss, a letter came +from Mike Gillum, saying that Hurley was in the pay of the +Syndicate----" + +"He's a liar!" cried Saginaw wrathfully shaking his mittened fist in +Connie's face. "I've know'd Hurley, man an' boy, an' they never was a +squarer feller ever swung an axe. Who is this here Mike Gillum? Lead me +to him! I'll tell him to his face he's a liar, an' then I'll prove it by +givin' him the doggonest lickin' he ever got--an' I don't care if he's +big as a meetin' house door, neither!" + +"Wait a minute, Saginaw, and listen. I know Hurley's square. But I +didn't know it until I got acquainted with him. I came clear down from +Alaska to catch him with the goods, and that's why I hired out to him. +But, Mike Gillum is square, too. He's boss of the Syndicate camp on +Willow River. A clerk in the Syndicate office told him that the +Syndicate was paying Hurley, and Mike wrote to Waseche Bill. He's a +friend of Waseche's--used to prospect in Alaska----" + +"I don't care if he used to prospeck in heaven! He's a liar if he says +Hurley ever double crossed any one!" + +"Hold on, I think I've got an idea of what's going on here and it will +be up to us to prove it. The man that's doing the double crossing is +Slue Foot Magee. I didn't like his looks from the minute I first saw +him. Then he began to hint that there were ways a forty-dollar-a-month +clerk could double his wages, and when I pretended to fall in with his +scheme he said that when they begin laying 'em down he'll show me how to +shade the cut. And more than that, he said he had something big he'd let +me in on later, provided I kept my eyes and ears open to what went on in +the office." + +"An' you say you an' yer pardner owns this here timber?" + +"That's just what I said." + +"Then Slue Foot's ondertook to show you a couple of schemes where you +kin steal consider'ble money off yerself?" + +Connie laughed. "That's it, exactly." + +Saginaw Ed remained silent for several moments. "Pervidin' you kin show +them papers, an' from what I've saw of you, I ain't none surprised if +you kin, how come it that yer pardner sent a kid like you way down here +on what any one ort to know would turn out to be a rough job anyways you +look at it?" + +"He didn't send me--I came. He wanted to come himself, but at that time +we thought it was Hurley we were after, and Hurley knows Waseche so he +could never have found out anything, even if he had come down. And +besides, I've had quite a lot of experience in jobs like this. I served +a year with the Mounted." + +"The Mounted! You don't mean the Canady Mounted Police!" + +"Yes, I do." + +There was another long silence, then the voice of Saginaw rumbled almost +plaintively through the dark, "Say, kid, you ain't never be'n +_President_, have you?" + +Connie snickered. "No, I've never been President. And if there's nothing +else you want to know right now, let's hit the hay. We've both done some +man's size mushing today." + +"You spoke a word, kid," answered Saginaw, rising to his feet; "I +wouldn't put no crookedness whatever past Slue Foot. But that didn't +give this here Gillum no license to blackguard Hurley in no letter." + +"Has Hurley ever worked for the Syndicate?" asked Connie. + +"No, he ain't. I know every job he's had in Minnesoty an' Westconsin. +Then he went out West to Idyho, or Montany, or somewheres, an' this +here's the first job he's had sence he come back." + +"What I've been thinking is that Slue Foot has passed himself off to the +Syndicate as Hurley. They know that Hurley is boss of this camp, but +they don't know him by sight. It's a risky thing to do, but I believe +Slue Foot has done it." + +"Well, jumpin' Jerushelam! D'you s'pose he'd of dared?" + +"That's what we've got to find out--and we've got to do it alone. You +know Hurley better than I do, and you know that he's hot-headed, and you +know that if he suspected Slue Foot of doing that, he couldn't wait to +get the evidence so we could get him with the goods. He'd just naturally +sail into him and beat him to a pulp." + +Saginaw chuckled. "Yes, an' then he'd squeeze the juice out of the pulp +to finish off with. I guess yer right, kid. It's up to me an' you. But +how'd you know them I. W. W.'s is headin' fer Willer River?" + +"Because I heard Slue Foot tell them to." + +"Slue Foot!" + +"Yes, I forgot to tell you that Slue Foot is an I. W. W., too. I didn't +know it myself 'til tonight. You see, when I got back to camp and found +that Hurley's prisoners had made a get-away, I knew right then why you +had turned off the back trail from Willow River. I knew they'd treat you +like they did Hurley, or worse, so I hit the trail." + +"Wasn't they no one else handy you could of brung along?" asked Saginaw, +drily. + +"The whole camp would have jumped at the chance--and you know it! And +you know what they'd have done when they caught 'em. I knew I could +travel faster and make less noise than a big gang, and I knew I could +handle the job when I got there. I had slipped up and was watching when +Pierce took you into the timber. He did that because they heard someone +coming. It was Slue Foot, and he brought 'em a grub stake and some +blankets. They knew he was an I. W. W., and they'd managed to slip him +the word that they were loose. They wanted him to stake them to some +money, too, but Slue Foot said he didn't have any, and told them to get +a job up on Willow River. He told them they'd be safer there than they +would anywhere down along the railroad." + +"Yes, but how'd you know they'll go there?" + +"They can't go any place else," laughed the boy. "They're broke, and +they've only got a little bit of grub." + +"When we goin' up an' git 'em?" persisted Saginaw. + +"We'll let the sheriff do that for us, then the whole thing will be +according to law." + +"I guess that's right," assented the man, as the two swung down the tote +road. + +"We'd better roll in in the men's camp," suggested Connie, as they +reached the clearing. A little square of light from the office window +showed dimly through the whirling snow, and, approaching noiselessly, +the two peeked in. Mounded blankets covered the sleeping forms of the +doctor and Lon Camden; Hurley's bandaged head was visible upon his +coarse pillow, and beside him sat Steve, wide awake, with the bottles of +medicine within easy reach. + +"Half past one!" exclaimed Saginaw, glancing at the little clock. "By +jiminetty, kid, it's time we was to bed!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SHADING THE CUT + + +It was nine o'clock the following morning when Connie was awakened by +someone bending over him. It was Saginaw, and the boy noticed that his +cap and mackinaw were powdered with snow. + +"Still snowing, eh? Why didn't you wake me up before?" + +"It's 'bout quit, an' as fer wakin' you up," he grinned, "I didn't +hardly dast to. If I was the owner of an outfit an' any doggone +lumberjack woke me up 'fore I was good an' ready I'd fire him." + +"Oh, you want to see my papers, do you?" grinned Connie. + +"Well, I might take a squint at 'em. But that ain't what I come fer. The +boss is a whole lot better, an' the doctor's a-goin' back. What I want +to know is, why can't he swear out them warrants ag'in them three I. W. +W.'s an' have it over with? I didn't say nothin' to Hurley 'bout them +bein' located, er he'd of riz up an' be'n half ways to Willer River by +now." + +"Sure, he can swear out the warrants! I'll slip over to the office and +get their names out of the time book, and while I'm gone you might look +over these." The boy selected several papers from a waterproof wallet +which he drew from an inner pocket and passed them over to Saginaw, then +he finished dressing and hurried over to the office. Hurley was asleep, +and, copying the names from the book, Connie returned to the men's camp. + +"You're the goods all right," said Saginaw, admiringly, as he handed +back the papers. "From now on I'm with you 'til the last gap, as the +feller says. You've got more right down nerve than I ever know'd a kid +could have, an' you've got the head on you to back it. Yer good enough +fer me--you say the word, an' I go the limit." He stuck out his hand, +which Connie gripped strongly. + +"You didn't have to tell me that, Saginaw," answered the boy, gravely, +"if you had, you would never have had the chance." + +Saginaw Ed removed his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. "That +there'll strike through 'bout dinner time, I guess. But I suspicion what +you mean, an'--I'm obliged." + +"Here are the names for the doctor--better tell him to swear out +warrants both for arson and for attempted murder." + +"Yes, sir," answered Saginaw, respectfully. + +"Yes, _what!_" + +The man grinned sheepishly. "Why--I guess--bein' I was talkin' to the +owner----" + +"Look here, Saginaw," interrupted the boy, wrathfully, "you just forget +this 'owner' business, and don't you start 'siring' me! What do you want +to do--give this whole thing away? Up where I live they don't call a man +'sir' just because he happens to have a little more dust than somebody +else. It ain't the 'Misters' and the 'Sirs' that are the big men up +there; it's the 'Bills' and the 'Jacks' and the 'Scotties' and the +'Petes'--men that would get out and mush a hundred miles to carry grub +to a scurvy camp instead of sitting around the stove and hiring someone +else to do it--men that have gouged gravel and stayed with the game, +bucking the hardest winters in the world, sometimes with only half +enough to eat--men with millions, and men that don't own the tools they +work with! My own father was one of 'em. 'The unluckiest man in Alaska,' +they called him! He never made a strike, but you bet he was a man! There +isn't a man that knew him, from Skagway to Candle, and from Candle to +Dawson and beyond, that isn't proud to call him friend. Sam Morgan they +call him--and they don't put any 'Mister' in front of it, either!" + +Saginaw Ed nodded slowly, and once more he seized the boy's hand in a +mighty grip. "I git you, kid. I know they's a lot of good men up in your +country--but, somehow, I've got a hunch they kind of overlooked a bet +when they're callin' your pa onlucky." He took the slip of paper upon +which Connie had written the names. At the door he turned. "We begin +layin' 'em down today," he said. "Shouldn't wonder an' what Slue Foot'll +be down 'fore very long fer to give you yer first lesson." + +"Hurley will think I'm a dandy, showing up at ten o'clock in the +morning." + +"Never you mind that," said Saginaw; "I fixed that part up all +right--told him you was up 'til after one o'clock helpin' me git things +strung out fer to begin work today." + +Connie bolted a hasty breakfast, and, as he made his way from the cook's +camp to the office, sounds came from the woods beyond the clearing--the +voices of men calling loudly to each other as they worked, the ring of +axes, and the long crash of falling trees. The winter's real work had +begun, and Connie smiled grimly as he thought of the cauldron of plot +and counter-plot that was seething behind the scenes in the peaceful +logging camp. + +The boy found Hurley much improved, although still weak from the effects +of the terrible beating he had received at the hands of the escaped +prisoners. The big boss fumed and fretted at his enforced inactivity, +and bewailed the fact that he had given the doctor his word that he +would stay in his bunk for at least two days longer. "An' ut's partly +yer fault, wid yer talk av th' law--an' partly mine fer listenin' to +yez," he complained fiercely, in rich brogue, as Connie sat at his desk. +The boy's shoulders drooped slightly under the rebuke, but he answered +nothing. Suddenly Hurley propped himself up on his elbow. "Phy don't +yez tell me Oi'm a big liar?" he roared. "Ye was right, an' Oi know ut. +Don't pay no heed to me, kid. Oi've got a grouch fer lettin' them +shpalpeens git away. Furst Oi was thryin' to lay ut on Frinchy, an' him +the bist teamster in th' woods! Ut's loike a sp'ilt b'y Oi am, thryin' +to blame somewan f'r what c'udn't be helped at all. Ut was an accident +all togither, an' a piece av bad luck--an' there's an end to ut. Bring +me over yer book, now, an' Oi'll show ye about kaypin' thim logs." + +[Illustration: "PHY DON'T YEZ TELL ME OI'M A BIG LIAR?" HE ROARED.] + +Connie soon learned the simple process of bookkeeping, and hardly had he +finished when the door opened and Slue Foot Magee entered. + +"Well, well! They sure beat ye up bad, boss. I heerd about it on my way +down. I'd like to lay hands on them crooks, an' I bet they'd think twict +before they beat another man up! But yer a fightin' man, Hurley; they +must of got ye foul." + +"Foul is the word. When the wagon tipped over my head hit a tree an' +that's the last I remember 'til I come to an' the boy, Steve, was +bathin' my head with snow an' tyin' up my cuts with strips of his +shirt." + +"Too bad," condoled Slue Foot, shaking his head sympathetically; "an' +they got plumb away?" + +"Sure they did. It wasn't so far to the railroad, an' the snow fallin' +to cover their tracks. But, Oi'll lay holt av 'em sometime!" he cried, +relapsing into his brogue. "An' whin Oi do, law er no law, Oi'll bust +'em woide open clane to their dirty gizzards!" + +"Sure ye will!" soothed Slue Foot. "But, it's better ye don't go +worryin' about it now. They're miles away, chances is, mixed up with a +hundred like 'em in some town er nother. I started the cuttin' this +mornin'. I'm workin' to the north boundary, an' then swing back from the +river." + +Hurley nodded: "That's right. We want to make as good a showin' as we +kin this year, Slue Foot. Keep 'em on the jump, but don't crowd 'em too +hard." + +Slue Foot turned to Connie: "An' now, if ye hain't got nawthin' better +to do than set there an' beaver that pencil, ye kin come on up to Camp +Two an' I'll give ye the names of the men." + +"If you didn't have anything better to do than hike down here, why +didn't you stick a list of the names in your pocket?" flashed the boy, +who had found it hard to sit and listen to the words of the +double-dealing boss of Camp Two. + +"Kind of sassy, hain't ye?" sneered Slue Foot. "We'll take that out of +ye, 'fore yer hair turns grey. D'ye ever walk on rackets?" + +"Some," answered Connie. "I guess I can manage to make it." + +Slue Foot went out, and Hurley motioned the boy to his side. "Don't pay +no heed to his growlin' an' grumblin', it was born in him," he +whispered. + +"I'll show him one of these days I ain't afraid of him," answered the +boy, so quickly that Hurley laughed. + +"Hurry along, then," he said. "An' if ye git back in time I've a notion +to send ye out after a pa'tridge. Saginaw says yer quite some sport with +a rifle." + +"That's the way to work it, kid," commended Slue Foot, as Connie bent +over the fastenings of his snow-shoes. "I'll growl an' you sass every +time we're ketched together. 'Twasn't that I'd of made ye hike way up to +my camp jest fer to copy them names, but the time's came fer to begin to +git lined up on shadin' the cut, an' we jest nachelly had to git away +from the office. Anyways it won't hurt none to git a good trail broke +between the camps." + +"There ain't any chance of getting caught at this graft, is there?" +asked the boy. + +"Naw; that is, 'tain't one chanct in a thousan'. Course, it stan's to +reason if a man's playin' fer big stakes he's got to take a chanct. Say, +where'd you learn to walk on rackets? You said you hadn't never be'n in +the woods before." + +"I said I'd never worked in the woods--I've hunted some." + +The talk drifted to other things as the two plodded along the tote road, +but once within the little office at Camp Two, Slue Foot plunged +immediately into his scheme. "It's like this: The sawyers gits paid by +the piece--the more they cut, the more pay they git. The logs is scaled +after they're on the skidways. Each pair of sawyers has their mark they +put on the logs they cut, an' the scaler puts down every day what each +pair lays down. Then every night he turns in the report to you, an' you +copy it in the log book. The total cut has got to come out right--the +scaler knows all the time how many feet is banked on the rollways. I've +got three pair of sawyers that's new to the game, an' they hain't +a-goin' to cut as much as the rest. The scaler won't never look at your +books, 'cause it hain't none of his funeral if the men don't git what's +a-comin' to 'em. He keeps his own tally of the total cut. Same with the +walkin' boss--that's Hurley. All he cares is to make a big showin'. +He'll have an eye on the total cut, an' he'll leave it to Saginaw an' me +to see that the men gits what's comin' to 'em in our own camps. Now, +what you got to do is to shade a little off each pair of sawyers' cut +an' add it onto what's turned in fer them three pair I told you about. +Then, in the spring, when these birds cashes their vouchers in town, +I'm right there to collect the overage." + +"But," objected Connie, "won't the others set up a howl? Surely, they +will know that these men are not cutting as much as they are." + +"How they goin' to find out what vouchers them six turns in? They hain't +a-goin' to show no one their vouchers." + +"But, won't the others know they're being credited with a short cut?" + +"That's where you come in. You got to take off so little that they won't +notice it. Sawyers only knows _about_ how much they got comin'. They +only guess at the cut. A little offen each one comes to quite a bit by +spring." + +"But, what if these men that get the overage credited to 'em refuse to +come across?" + +Slue Foot grinned evilly: "I'll give 'em a little bonus fer the use of +their names," he said. "But, they hain't a-goin' to refuse to kick in. +I've got their number. They hain't a one of the hull six of 'em that I +hain't got somethin' on, an' they know it." + +"All right," said Connie, as he arose to go. "I'm on. And don't forget +that you promised to let me in on something bigger, later on." + +"I won't fergit. It looks from here like me an' you had a good thing." + +An hour later Connie once more entered the office at Camp One. Steve sat +beside Hurley, and Saginaw Ed stood warming himself with his back to the +stove. + +"Back ag'in," greeted the big boss. "How about it, ye too tired to swing +out into the brush with the rifle? Seems like they wouldn't nothin' in +the world taste so good as a nice fat pa'tridge. An' you tell the cook +if he dries it up when he roasts it, he better have his turkey packed +an' handy to grab." + +"I'm not tired at all," smiled Connie, as he took Saginaw's rifle from +the wall. "It's too bad those fellows swiped your gun, but I guess I can +manage to pop off a couple of heads with this." + +"You'd better run along with him, Steve," said Hurley, as he noted that +the other boy eyed Connie wistfully. "The walk'll do ye good. Ye hain't +hardly stretched a leg sense I got hurt. The kid don't mind, do ye, +kid?" + +"You bet I don't!" exclaimed Connie heartily. "Come on, Steve, we'll +tree a bunch of 'em and then take turns popping their heads off." + +As the two boys made their way across the clearing, Hurley raised +himself on his elbow, and stared after them through the window: "Say, +Saginaw," he said, "d'ye know there's a doggone smart kid." + +"Who?" asked the other, as he spat indifferently into the wood box. + +"Why, this here Connie. Fer a greener, I never see his beat." + +"Yeh," answered Saginaw, drily, his eyes also upon the retreating backs, +"he's middlin' smart, all right. Quite some of a kid--fer a greener." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SAGINAW ED HUNTS A CLUE + + +"Hello!" cried Saginaw Ed, as he stared in surprise at a wide, flat +trail in the snow. The exclamation brought Connie Morgan to his side. +The two were hunting partridges and rabbits, and their wanderings had +carried them to the extreme western edge of the timber tract, several +miles distant from the camps that were located upon the Dogfish River, +which formed its eastern boundary. Despite the fact that the work of +both camps was in full swing, these two found frequent opportunity to +slip out into the timber for a few hours' hunt, which answered the +twofold purpose of giving them a chance to perfect their plans for the +undoing of Slue Foot Magee, and providing a welcome addition to the salt +meat bill of fare. + +"Wonder who's be'n along here? 'Tain't no one from the camps--them's +Injun snow-shoes. An' they ain't no one got a right to hunt here, +neither. Hurley posted the hull trac' account of not wantin' no +permiscu's shootin' goin' on with the men workin' in the timber. Them +tracks is middlin' fresh, too." + +"Made yesterday," opined Connie, as he examined the trail closely. +"Travelling slow, and following his own back trail." + +Saginaw nodded approval. "Yup," he agreed. "An', bein' as he was +travellin' slow, he must of went quite a little piece. He wasn't +carryin' no pack." + +"Travelling light," corroborated the boy. "And he went up and came back +the same day." + +"Bein' as he headed north and come back from there, it ain't goin' to do +us no hurt to kind of find out if he's hangin' 'round clost by. They +ain't nothing north of us, in a day's walk an' back, except the +Syndicate's Willer River camp. An', spite of yer stickin' up fer him, I +don't trust that there Mike Gillum, nor no one else that would claim +Hurley throw'd in with the Syndicate." The man struck into the trail, +and Connie followed. They had covered scarcely half a mile when Saginaw +once more halted in surprise. + +"Well, I'll be doggoned if there ain't a dugout! An' onless I'm quite a +bit off my reckonin', it's inside our line." For several moments the two +scrutinized the structure, which was half cabin, half dugout. From the +side of a steep bank the log front of the little building protruded into +the ravine. Smoke curled lazily from a stovepipe that stuck up through +the snow-covered roof. The single window was heavily frosted, and a deep +path had been shovelled through a huge drift that reached nearly to the +top of the door. The trail the two had been following began and ended at +that door, and without hesitation they approached and knocked loudly. +The door opened, and in the dark oblong of the interior stood the +grotesque figure of a little old man. A pair of bright, watery eyes +regarded them from above a tangle of grey beard, and long grey hair +curled from beneath a cap of muskrat skin from which the fur was worn in +irregular patches. "Phwat d'yez want?" he whined, in a voice cracked and +thin. "Is ut about me money?" + +[Illustration: "PHWAT D'YEZ WANT?" HE WHINED.] + +"Yer money?" asked Saginaw. "We don't know nothin' about no money. We're +from the log camps over on Dogfish. What we want to know is what ye're +doin' here?" + +"Doin' here!" exclaimed the little old man. "Oi'm livin' here, that's +what Oi'm doin'--jest like Oi've done f'r fifteen year. Come on in av ye +want to palaver. Oi'm owld an' like to freeze standin' here in th' +dure, an' if ye won't come in, g'wan away, an' bad cess to yez f'r not +bringin' me back me money." + +Saginaw glanced at Connie and touched his forehead significantly. As +they stepped into the stuffy interior, the old man closed the door and +fastened it with an oak bar. Little light filtered through the heavily +frosted window, and in the semi-darkness the two found difficulty +picking their way amid the litter of traps, nets, and firewood that +covered the floor. The little room boasted no chair, but, seating +himself upon an upturned keg, the owner motioned his visitors to the +bunk that was built along the wall within easy reach of the little cast +iron cooking stove that served also to heat the room. + +"Ye say ye've lived here for fifteen years?" asked Saginaw, as he drew +off his heavy mittens. + +"Oi have thot." + +"Ye wasn't here last winter." + +"Thot's whut Oi'm afther tellin' yez. Last winter I wuz to the city." + +"This here shack looks like it's old, all right," admitted Saginaw. +"Funny no one run acrost it last winter." + +"Ut snowed airly," cut in the little man, "an' if they ain't no wan here +to dig her out, she'd drift plumb under on th' furst wind." + +"Who are you?" asked Connie. "And what do you do for a living? And what +did you mean about your money?" + +"Who sh'd Oi be but Dinny O'Sullivan? 'An' phwat do Oi do fer a livin'?' +sez ye. 'Til last winter Oi worked f'r Timothy McClusky, thot owned this +trac' an' w'd died befoor he'd av sold ut to th' Syndicate. Good wages, +he paid me, an' Oi kep' off th' timber thayves, an' put out foires, an' +what not. An' Oi thrapped an' fished betoimes an' Oi made me a livin'. +Thin, McClusky sold th' timber. 'Ye betther come on back wid me, Dinny,' +sez he. 'Back to the owld sod. Ut's rich Oi'll be over there, Dinny, an' +Oi'll see ye'll niver want.' + +"But, ut's foorty year an' more since Oi come to Amurica, an' Oi'd be a +stranger back yon. 'Oi'll stay,' Oi sez, 'f'r Oi've got used to th' +woods, an' whin they cut down th' timber, Oi'll move on till somewheres +they ain't cut.' 'Ut's hatin' Oi am to lave yez behind, Dinny,' sez he, +'but, Oi won't lave ye poor, fer ye've served me well,' an' wid thot, +he puts his hand in his pocket loike, an' pulls out some bills, an' he +hands 'em to me. 'Put 'em by f'r a rainy day, Dinny,' he sez, an' thin +he wuz gone. Oi come insoide an' barred th' dure, an' Oi counted th' +money in me hand. Tin bills they wuz, all bright an' new an' clane, an' +aich bill wuz foive hunder' dollars. 'Twas more money thin Oi'd iver +see, or thought to see, an' ut wuz all moine--moine to kape or to spind, +to t'row away er to save. 'Oi'll save ut,' sez Oi, 'loike McClusky said, +ag'in' a rainy day.' An' Oi loosed a board in th' flure--'tiz th' wan to +th' left in under th' bunk, yonder--an' Oi put th' bills in a tobaccy +tin an' put 'em in th' hole Oi'd scooped out, an' put back th' board." +The little old man paused and poked noisily at the stove, fumbled in his +pockets and produced a short, black cutty pipe and a pouch of tobacco, +and continued: + +"Oi've wor-rked hard from six years owld to siventy, but ut's not in th' +name av O'Sullivan to lay an-nything by. 'Twus come hard an' go +aisy--but f'r a month Oi niver lifted th' board. Thin wan day Oi tuk 'em +out an' counted 'em. Th' nixt wake Oi done th' same. Th' days begun to +git shorter, an' th' noights colder, an' th' ducks come whistlin' out +av th' narth. Ivery day, now, Oi'd take thim bills out an' count 'em. Oi +cut three little notches in the carners wid me knife--'tis the mark Oi +file on me thraps, so whin an-nyone sees 'em, 'Tiz Dinny O'Sullivan's +bill,' they'll say, an' Oi can't lose 'em. ''Tiz a cowld winter comin', +Dinny,' sez Oi, 'f'r th' mushrats is buildin' airly. Yer gittin' owld +f'r th' thrappin',' sez Oi, but Oi know'd 'twuz a loie whin Oi said ut; +'beloike ye'd betther go to th' city.' 'Ye'll not!' sez Oi, moindin' +what McClusky said about a rainy day. An' Oi put back th' bills an' +covered thim wid th' board. Th' nixt day ut wuz cloudy an' cowld, an' Oi +set be th' stove an' counted me bills. 'Th' loights is bright av an +avenin' in th' city, Dinny,' Oi sez, 'an' there's shows an' what not, +an' min av yer koind to palaver. Ut's loike a mink ye'll be livin' in +yer hole in th' woods av ye stay. There's too much money, an-nyhow,' Oi +sez; 'av ye don't git sick, ye don't nade ut, an' if ye do, 'twill +outlast ye, an' whin ye die, who'll have th' spindin' av thim clane new +bills? They's prob'ly O'Sullivans lift unhung yit in Oirland,' sez +Oi--though av me mimory's good, they's few that aught to be--'Oi'll +spend 'em mesilf.' Th' wind wailed t'rough th' trees loike th' banshee. +Oi looked out th' windie--'twuz rainin'. ''Tis a token,' sez Oi; ''tiz +th' rainy day thot McClusky said w'd come.'" The old man chuckled. "'Tiz +loike thot a man argys whin ut's himself's th' judge an' jury. + +"So Oi put th' bills in me pocket an' tuck th' thrain fer St. Paul. Oi +seen Moike Gillum on th' thrain an' Oi show'd um me money. 'Go back to +th' woods, Dinny,' he sez. 'There's no fool loike an owld fool, ye'll +moind, an' they'll have ut away from yez.' 'They'll not!' sez Oi. 'An' +Oi'll be betther fer a year av rist.' He thried to argy but Oi'd have +none av ut, an' Oi put up wid th' Widdy MacShane, 'twuz half-sister to a +cousin av a frind av moine Oi know'd in Brainard in nointy-sivin. Foive +dollars a week Oi paid fer board an' room an' washin'--Oi'd live in +style wid no thought fer expince. Oi bought me a hat an' a suit wid +brass buttons t'w'd done proud to Brian Boru himsilf." + +The old man paused and looked out the window. "To make a long story +short, be Christmas Oi wuz toired av me bargain. Oi've lived in th' +woods too long, an' Oi'll lave 'em no more. Oi stuck ut out 'til th' +spring, but, what wid th' frinds Oi'd picked up to hilp me spind ut, +an' th' clothes, an' th' shows ut costed me three av me clane new bills. +Comin' back Oi shtopped off at Riverville, an' showed Mike Gillum the +sivin Oi had lift. 'Yez done well, Dinny,' sez he. 'An' now will yez go +to th' woods?' 'Oi will,' sez Oi, 'f'r Oi'm tired av ristin'. But Oi'm +glad Oi wint, an' Oi don't begrudge th' money, f'r sivin is aisier thin +tin to count an-nyway an' Oi've enough av ut rains f'r a year.' So Oi +come back an' wuz snug as a bug in a rug, 'til ut's mebbe two wakes ago, +an' snowin' that day, an' they comed a Frinchy along, an' he sez, 'Oi've +a noice fat deer hangin'; ut's a matther av a couple av moile from here. +Av ye'll hilp me cut um up, Oi'll give ye th' shoulders an' rib +mate--f'r ut's only th' quarters Oi want.' Oi wint along an' we cut up +th' deer, an' he give me th' mate an' Oi packed ut home. Whin Oi got +back Oi seen somewan had be'n here. Ut wuz snowin' hard, an' th' thracks +wuz drifted full loike th' wans me an' th' Frinchy made whin we started +off to cut up th' deer, so Oi know'd the other had come jist afther we +lift. I dropped me mate an' run in an' pulled up th' board. Th' tobaccy +tin wuz impty! Th' thracks headed narth, an' Oi tuck out afther th' +dirthy spalpeen, but th' snow got worse an' Oi had to turn back. Whin ut +quit Oi wint to Willow River where Mike Gillum is runnin' a Syndicate +crew, but he said they wuzn't none av his men gone off th' job. 'Oi'll +do all Oi kin to thry an' locate th' thafe,' sez he; 'but yez sh'd put +yer money in th' bank, Dinny.' Well, Oi hurd nawthin' more from him, an' +this marnin' Oi wint up there ag'in. He'd found out nawthin', an' he sez +how he don't think ut wuz wan av his min--so Oi comed back, an' th' nixt +thing Oi knows yez two comed along--ye've th' whole story now, an' ye'll +know av th' rainy days comes, Dinny O'Sullivan's a-goin' to git wet." + +"What d'ye think of yer fine friend, Mike Gillum now?" asked Saginaw Ed, +breaking a silence that had lasted while they had travelled a mile or so +through the woods from Denny O'Sullivan's cabin. + +"Just the same as I did before," answered Connie, without a moment's +hesitation. "You don't think Mike Gillum swiped the old man's money, do +you?" + +Saginaw stopped in his tracks and faced the boy wrathfully. "Oh, no! I +don't think he could possibly have swiped it," he said, with ponderous +sarcasm. "There ain't no chanct he did--seein' as he was the only one +that know'd the money was there--an' seein' how the tracks headed +north--an' seein' how he denied it. It couldn't of be'n him! The old +man's got his own word fer it that it wasn't." + +"If those I. W. W.'s wer'n't locked up safe in jail, I'd think they got +the money. I know it wasn't Mike Gillum," maintained the boy, stoutly. +"If you knew Mike you wouldn't think that." + +"I don't know him, an' I don't want to know him! It's enough that I know +Hurley. An' anyone that would claim Hurley was crooked, I wouldn't put +it beyond him to do nothin' whatever that's disreligious, an' low-down, +an' onrespectable. He done it! An' him writin' like he done about +Hurley, _proves_ that he done it--an' that's all they is to it." + +Connie saw the uselessness of arguing with the woodsman whose devoted +loyalty to his boss prevented his seeing any good whatever in the man +who had sought to cast discredit upon him. "All right," he grinned. "But +I'm going to find out who did do it, and I bet when I do, it won't be +Mike Gillum that's to blame." + +Saginaw's momentary huff vanished, and he shook his head in resignation, +as he returned the boy's grin. "I've saw a raft of folks, take it first +an' last, but never none that was right down as stubborn as what you be. +But, about findin' out who got the old man's money, you've bit off more +than you kin chaw. You ain't got enough to go on." A partridge flew up +with a whirr and settled upon the bare branch of a young birch a few +yards farther on. Saginaw took careful aim and shot its head off. "I got +one on you this time, anyhow. That's five fer me, an' four fer you, an' +it's gittin' too dark to see the sights." + +"Guess that's right," admitted the boy. "But I'll get even, when I show +you who raided the old man's cabin." + +"'Spect I'll do a little projektin' 'round myself, if I git time. It +might be such a thing I'll git _two_ on ye." Thus they engaged in +friendly banter until the yellow lights that shone from the windows of +the camp buildings welcomed them across the clearing. + +The next day Connie hunted up Frenchy Lamar. He found him in the stable +carefully removing the ice bangles from the fetlocks of his beloved +horses. He had spent the morning breaking trail on the tote road. + +"Why don't you get yourself some real horses?" teased the boy. "One of +those log team horses will outweigh the whole four of yours." + +"Log team! _Sacre!_ Dem hosses fat, lak wan peeg! Dey go 'bout so fas' +lak wan porkypine! Dey drag de log 'roun' de woods. Dey got for have de +ice road for haul de beeg load to de rollway. But, me--I'm tak' ma four +gran' hoss, I'm heetch dem oop, I'm climb on ma sleigh, I'm crack ma +wheep, an--monjee! Dem hoss she jomp 'long de tote road, de bells dey +ring lak de Chreestmas tam, de snow fly oop from de hoof, an' dem hoss +dey ron t'rough de woods so fas' lak de deer! Me--I ain' trade wan +leetle chonk ma hoss's tail for all de beeg fat log team w'at ees een de +woods." + +"You're all right, Frenchy," laughed the boy. "But, tell me, why didn't +you slip me a chunk of that venison you brought in the other day?" + +The Frenchman glanced about swiftly. "_Non!_ W'at you mean--de +_venaison_? I ain' keel no deer--me. Hurley she say you ain' kin keel +no deer w'en de season ees close." + +"Sure, I know you didn't kill it. But you brought it in. What I want to +know is, who did kill it?" + +"I ain' breeng no _venaison_ een dis camp since de season git shut." + +"Oh, you took it to Camp Two! Slue Foot shot the deer, did he?" + +"How you fin' dat out? Hurley ain' lak I'm tak' de _venaison_ to Camp +Two, no mor' lak Camp Wan. She fin' dat out she git mad, I'm t'ink she +bus' me wan on ma nose." + +"Hurley don't know anything about it," reassured the boy. "And I'll give +you my word he never will find out from me. I just happen to want to +know who sent you after that meat. I won't squeal on either one of you. +You can trust me, can't you?" + +"_Oui_," answered the teamster, without hesitation. "You pass de +word--dat good. Slue Foot, she keel dat deer wan tam, an' hang heem oop +to freeze. Wan day she say, 'Frenchy, you go rat ovaire on de wes' line +an' git de deer wat I'm got hangin'.' I ain' lak dat mooch, but Slue +Foot say: 'She startin' for snow an' you track git cover oop. Me an' +you we have wan gran' feast in de office, an' Hurley she ain' gon fin +dat out. Wan leetle ol' man she got cabin 'bout two mile nort' of where +de deer hang by de creek where four beeg maple tree stan' close beside. +You git de ol' man to help you cut oop de meat, an' you breeng de hine +qua'ter, an' give heem de res'. He ees poor ol' man, an' lak to git som' +meat.' I'm t'ink dat pret' good t'ing Slue Foot lak to giv' som' poor +ol' man de meat, so I gon an' done lak he says." + +"It was snowing that day, was it?" + +"_Oui_, she snow hard all day. I'm git back 'bout noon, an' ma tracks +ees snow full." + +"Was Slue Foot here when you got back?" + +"_Oui_, an' dat night we hav' de gran' suppaire. Slue Foot say dat +better you ain' say nuttin' 'bout dat deer, 'cause Hurley she git mad +lak t'undaire. I'm tell you 'bout dat 'cause I'm know you ain' gon' try +for mak' no trouble. Plenty deer in de woods, anyhow." + +Connie nodded. "Yes, but orders are orders. If I were you I wouldn't +have anything to do with deer killed out of season. Suppose Hurley had +found out about that deer instead of me. You'd have been in a nice fix. +When Hurley gives an order he generally sees that it's obeyed." + +"Dat rat," agreed Frenchy, with alacrity. "Dat better I ain' got Hurley +mad on me, ba goss!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A PAIR OF SOCKS + + +A week later Connie was roused from his desk in the little office by the +sound of bells. There was a loud "Whoa!" and Frenchy, wearing his long +stocking cap of brilliant red yarn, and clad in his gayest mackinaw, +pulled up his four-horse tote-team with a flourish before the door, and +stepped smiling from the sleigh. + +"W'at you t'ink, now, _m's'u l'infant_? S'pose I'm trade ma gran' team +for de beeg fat log hoss, de cook she don' git no supply for wan week. +Den, mebbe-so you got to eat porkypine an' spruce tea. Me--I'm back +to-mor' night, wit ma gran' tote-team, _bien!_" + +Connie laughed. "I guess you've got the right team for the job, Frenchy. +But it seems to me you picked out a bad day for the trail." It had +turned suddenly warm during the night, and the boy indicated a shallow +pool of muddy water that had collected in the depression before the +door. + +"De snow she melt fas' w'ere she all tromp down an' dirty, but on de +tote road w'ere she w'ite an' clean she ain' melt so fas'." He paused +and cocked an eye skyward. "I'm git to Dogfish before she melt an' +tonight she gon' for turn col', an' tomor', ba goss, I'm com' back on de +ice, lak de log road." + +[Illustration: "WHAT'S THIS?" ASKED THE BOY, PUSHING UP A SMALL BUNDLE.] + +"What's this?" asked the boy, picking up a small bundle done up in brown +wrapping paper that lay upon the seat of the sleigh. + +"Oh, dat wan pair wool sock Slue Foot sen' down to Corky Dyer for ke'p +he's feet wa'm. I'm mak' dat go on de, w'at you call, de express." + +Connie picked up the package and regarded it with apparent unconcern. +"Who's Corky Dyer?" he asked, casually. + +"Corky Dyer, she ke'p de s'loon down to Brainard. She frien' for Slue +Foot, lak wan brudder." + +As Frenchy's glance strayed to Steve, who came hurrying toward them with +his list of supplies from the cook's camp, Connie's foot suddenly +slipped, the package dropped from his hand squarely into the middle of +the puddle of dirty water, and the next instant the boy came heavily +down upon it with his knee. + +"O-o-o-o!" wailed the excitable Frenchman, dancing up and down. "Now I'm +ketch, w'at you call, de t'undaire! Slue Foot, she git mad on me now, ba +goss! She say, 'You mak' dat leetle package los' I'm bre'k you in two!'" + +Connie recovered the package, from which the wet paper was bursting in a +dozen places. He glanced at it ruefully for a moment, and then, as if +struck with a happy thought, he grinned. "We'll fix that all right," he +said reassuringly, and turned toward the door. + +"_Non_," protested Frenchy, dolefully, "dat ain' no good, to put on de +new _papier_. De sock she got wet, an' de new _papier_ she bus', too." + +"You just hold your horses----" + +"I ain't got for hol' dem hosses. Dey broke to stan' so long I want +'em." + +"Come on in the office, then," laughed the boy, "and I'll show you how +we'll fix it." Frenchy followed him in, and Connie opened the wanagan +chest. "We'll just make a new package, socks and all, and I'll copy the +address off on it, and Corky Dyer's feet will keep warm this winter just +the same." + +"_Oui! Oui!_" approved the Frenchman, his face once more all smiles. He +patted the boy admiringly upon the back. "You got de gran' head on you +for t'ink." + +"You don't need to say anything about this to Slue Foot," cautioned the +boy. + +The Frenchman laughed. "Ha! Ha! You t'ink I'm gon' hont de trouble? Slue +Foot she git mad jes' de sam'. She lak for chance to growl. I tell him +'bout dat, I'm t'ink he bus' me in two." + +It was but the work of a few minutes to duplicate the small bundle, and +the teamster took it from the boy's hand with a sigh of relief. "So +long!" he called gaily, as he climbed into the sleigh and gathered up +his reins with an air. "Som' tam' you lak you git de fas' ride, you com' +long wit' me." His long whip cracked, and the impatient tote-team sprang +out onto the trail. + +Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Connie hurriedly thrust the +package into his turkey. Saginaw entered, and, with a vast assumption of +carelessness, walked to the wall and took down his rifle. "Guess I +might's well take a siyou out into the brush an' see what fer meat they +is stirrin'." + +"Want a partner?" + +"Sure," answered the man, "I wish't you could go 'long, but I don't +guess you better. The log roads is softenin' up, an' I give orders to +keep the teams offen 'em. They ain't nothin'll sp'ile a log road like +teamin' on 'em soft. The teamsters won't have nothin' to do, an' they'll +be hornin' in on ye all day, to git stuff out of the wanagan. Hurley an' +Lon's both up to Camp Two, so I guess yer elected to stick on the job." + +"That's so," answered the boy, "but, I bet the real reason you don't +want me is because you're afraid I'd kill more game than you do." + +"Well, ye might, at that," laughed Saginaw. "But we'll have plenty of +chances to try out that part of it. I'm gittin' old, but I ain't so old +but what I kin see the sights of a rifle yet." He drew the rackets from +under his bunk and passed out, and as Connie watched him swing across +the clearing, he grinned: + +"You're hiking out to see if you can't hang a little evidence up against +Mike Gillum, and that's why you didn't want me along. Go to it, old +hand, but unless I miss my guess when you come in tonight you'll find +out that your game has turned into crow." + +Saginaw had prophesied rightly. The wanagan did a land-office business +among the idle teamsters, and at no time during the day did Connie dare +to open the package that lay concealed in his turkey. Darkness came, and +the boy lighted the lamp. The teamsters continued to straggle in and +out, and, just as the boy was about to lock the office and go to supper, +Saginaw returned. + +"What luck?" inquired Connie. + +"Never got a decent shot all day," replied the man, as he put away his +rifle and snow-shoes. "I got somethin' to tell you, though, when we've +et supper. Chances is, Hurley an' Lon'll be late if they ain't back by +now. We kin powwow in the office onless they come, an' if they do, we +kin mosey out an' hunt us up a log." + +Supper over, the two returned to the office and seated themselves beside +the stove. Saginaw filled his pipe and blew a great cloud of blue smoke +toward the ceiling. "I swung 'round by Willer River," he imparted, after +a few shorter puffs. Connie waited for him to proceed. "Ye mind, the old +man said how it was a Frenchy that got him to help cut up that deer? +Well, they's a raft of French workin' up there fer the Syndicate." + +"Any of 'em been deer hunting lately?" asked the boy, innocently. + +"Gosh sakes! How'd ye s'pose I kin tell? If I'd asked 'em they'd all +said 'no.' I jes' wanted to see if they was Frenchmens there." + +Connie nodded. "That looks bad," he admitted. + +"Yes, an' what's comin' looks worst. On the way back, I swung 'round by +the old Irishman's. He hadn't heard nothin' more from this here Mike +Gillum, so he went up ag'in yesterday to see him. Gillum claimed he +hadn't found out nothin', an' then the old man told him how he was +broke an' needed grub to winter through on. Well, Gillum up an' dug down +in his pocket an' loant him a hundred dollars!" + +"Good for Mike Gillum!" exclaimed Connie. "That's what I call a man!" + +"What d'ye mean--call a man?" cried Saginaw, disgustedly. "Look a-here, +you don't s'pose fer a minute that if Gillum hadn't of got the old man's +pile he'd of loant him no hundred dollars, do ye? How's he ever goin' to +pay it back? Gillum knows, an' everyone knows that's got any sense, that +what huntin' an' fishin' an' trappin' that old man kin do ain't only +goin' to make him a livin', at the best. He ain't never goin' to git +enough ahead to pay back no hundred dollars." + +"So much the more credit to Gillum, then. What he did was to dig down +and give him a hundred." + +"Give him a hundred! An' well he could afford to, seein' how he kep' +thirty-four hundred fer himself. Don't you think fer a minute, kid, that +any one that's low-down enough to blackguard a man like Hurley would +give away a hundred dollars--he'd see a man starve first. It's plain as +the nose on yer face. We've got a clear case, an' I'm a-goin' to git +out a search warrant ag'in' him, 'fore he gits a chanct to send that +money out of the woods. He's got it, an' I know it!" + +Connie smiled broadly. "He must have got it while we were at supper, +then." + +Saginaw regarded him curiously. "What d'ye mean--supper?" he asked. + +For answer the boy crossed to his bunk, and, reaching into his turkey, +drew out the soggy package. "Do you know who Corky Dyer is?" he asked, +with seeming irrelevance. + +"Sure, I know who Corky Dyer is--an' no good of him, neither. He lives +in Brainard, an' many's the lumberjack that's the worse off fer knowin' +him. But, what's Corky Dyer got to do with Mike Gillum an' the old man's +money?" + +"Nothing, with Mike Gillum. I was only thinking I hope Corky can keep +his feet warm this winter, I sent him down a nice pair of wool socks +today." + +Saginaw bent closer, and stared at the boy intently. "Be ye feelin' all +right, son?" he asked, with genuine concern. + +"Sure, I feel fine. As I was going on to say, Slue Foot felt sorry for +Corky Dyer's feet, so he picked out a pair of nice warm socks----" + +"Thought ye said----" + +The boy ignored the interruption, "and gave them to Frenchy to send to +Corky by express. When Frenchy stopped here for his list I happened to +pick up the package and while I was looking at it my foot slipped and I +dropped it in a mud puddle and then fell on it. I hated to think of poor +Corky wearing those dirty wet socks, and I didn't want Frenchy to get an +awful bawling out from Slue Foot for not taking care of his package, so +I just took a new pair out of the wanagan and sent them to him. I guess, +now, we'd better open this package and wring these wet ones out, or +they'll spoil." + +Saginaw continued to stare as the boy drew his knife and cut the cord. +Then he exploded angrily: "What in thunder d'ye s'pose I care about +Corky Dyer's socks? An' what's his socks got to do with gittin' old +Denny O'Sullivan's money back fer him? I thought ye was a better sport +than that--Ye see yer fine friend's got cornered, an' right away ye +switch off an' begin talkin' about Slue Foot, an' Frenchy, an' Corky +Dyer's wet socks! Fer my part, Corky Dyer's feet could git wet an' +froze fer six foot above 'em--an' it would be a good thing fer the +timber country, at that!" + +As Saginaw raved on, Connie unrolled the grey woollen socks and smoothed +them out upon his knee. Saginaw watched, scowling disapproval as he +talked. "They's somethin' in one of 'em," he said with sudden interest. +"What's it got in it?" + +Connie regarded him gravely. "I don't know, for sure--I haven't looked, +but I think maybe it's Denny O'Sullivan's missing bills." + +Saginaw Ed's jaw dropped, and his hands gripped the chair arms till the +knuckles whitened, as the boy thrust his hand into the damp sock. "Yes, +that's what it is, all right," he said, as he drew forth the missing +bills. "They're not quite as new and clean, maybe, as they were, but +they're the ones--see the little notches in the corners, just like the +marks on his traps." + +Saginaw stared in silence while the boy finished counting: "--five, six, +seven." Then, as full realization dawned upon him, he burst forth, and +the roars of his laughter filled the little log office. "Well, dog my +cats!" he howled, when at length he found his voice. "'My foot +slipped,' says he, 'an' I dropped it in a mud puddle an' fell on it!'" +He reached over and pounded the boy on the back with a huge hand. "You +doggone little cuss! Here you set all the time, with the missin' bills +tucked away safe an' sound in yer turkey--an' me trompin' my legs off +tryin' to find out what's became of 'em!" He thrust out his hand. "Ye +sure outguessed me, kid, an' I don't begrudge it. When it comes to +headwork, yer the captain--with a capital K. An' believe me! I'd give a +hull lot to be where I could see Corky Dyer's face when he unwrops that +package of socks!" + +Connie laughed. "So you see," he said, as he shook the extended hand, +"we've got a clear case, all right--but not against Mike Gillum." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HURLEY PREPARES FOR THE DRIVE + + +The two camps on Dogfish hummed with activity. Both Saginaw Ed and Slue +Foot Magee had their crews "laying 'em down" with an efficiency that +delighted the heart of Hurley, who came into the little office of Camp +One after an inspection of the rollways, fairly radiating approval and +good humour. That evening around the roaring stove the big walking boss +lighted his pipe, and tilting back in his chair, contentedly wriggled +his toes in the woollen socks, cocked comfortably upon the edge of his +bunk, the while he held forth upon the merits of his crews to Lon Camden +and Saginaw Ed and Connie Morgan who shared the quarters with him: + +"The best crews ever went into the woods!" he began, "barrin' none. I've +logged from Westconsin to the coast, an' never I seen the like. It's +partly because the men is doin' what they never thought to be doin' +again--layin' down white pine. An' it's partly the bosses, an' the cook, +an' the scaler, an' the clerk. I'll show the owner a profit this year +that'll make him fergit last year's loss like a busted shoestring. I've +twict as many logs on the rollways of each camp as I had altogether last +year." + +Lon Camden shook his head: "Yeh, that's so, Hurley, but logs on the +rollways ain't logs at the mills. Ye had enough banked along the river +last year to show a good profit--an' ye can bet yer last dollar the +Syndicate's foulin' our drive wasn't no accident." + +"But our brands was on the logs," insisted Hurley. "Even the Syndicate +wouldn't dare to saw branded logs." + +The scaler shook his head doubtfully: "I do'no, boss, some one sawed +'em. To my certain knowledge there was better than two million feet on +the landin's when we broke 'em out--an' two million feet of white pine +ort to showed a good profit." + +Hurley nodded, glumly: "Sure it ort," he agreed. "I seen the logs myself +on the rollways, an' when they got to the mills, the boom scale was--" +The big boss paused and scratched his head thoughtfully, "--well, I +ain't got no noodle fer figgers, an' I disremember jest what it was, but +it was short enough so it et up the profits an' handed us a +fourteen-thousan'-dollar loss, or thereabouts. An' me with the owner way +up in Alasky, an' thinkin' mebbe I done him out of his money. 'Twas a +long head I had when I stuck out fer a two-year contrack, an' this year +if we don't roll eight million feet in the river my name ain't Jake +Hurley!" + +"Yes," broke in Saginaw Ed, "an' if we make the same rate of loosin', +the loss this year'll figger somewheres up around fifty thousan'." + +Hurley's eyes grew hard "They ain't a-goin' to be no loss this year!" he +replied savagely. "The Syndicate had more logs in Dogfish than me last +year, an' a bigger crew, an' more white-water birlers amongst 'em, so +Long Leaf Olson, the foreman of the Syndicate camp, ordered me to take +the rear drive. I tuk it--an' be the time I'd got through cardin' the +ledges, an' sackin' the bars, an' shovin' off jill-pokes, the main drive +was sorted an' the logs in the logans, an' I was handed me boom scale at +the mills. But, this year it's different. I'll have agin as many logs +as them, an' two crews, an' when we git to the mills I'll have men of my +own at the sortin' gap." + +"If they was dams on Dogfish the rear drive wouldn't be so bad," opined +Saginaw. + +"If they was dams on Dogfish, we'd be worse off than ever," growled +Hurley, "because the Syndicate would own the dams, an' we'd stand a fat +show of sluicin' anything through 'em. No sir! We'll go out with the +ice, an' me on the head of the drive, an' if Long Leaf fouls us, I won't +be carin'. I see through the game he done me last year--keepin' me on +the rear, an' it worked like this: Dogfish runs out with a rush an' then +falls as quick as it run out. All the logs that ain't into the big river +on the run-out is left fer the rear drive, an', believe me, we had a +plenty dry-rollin' to do. For why? Because that thievin' Long Leaf +nipped every jam before it started, an' left me with a month's work +gittin' the stranded logs out of Dogfish. This year, it'll be me that's +boss of the main drive, an' if a jam starts I'll let 'em pile up--an' +I'll see that one starts, too--that'll back the water up behind 'em an' +give the rear plenty of river to float down on, then when everything's +caught up, I'll put some canned thunder in under her an' away we go to +the next jam." + +"Ye' talk like ye could jam 'em whenever ye wanted to," said Lon Camden. + +Hurley regarded him gravely: "It's twenty-three miles from here to the +big river. There'll be a jam ten miles below here, an' another, one mile +above the mouth." The three stared at him in surprise. "You see," the +boss continued, with evident satisfaction in their astonishment, "when I +got the boom scale last summer, it turned me sick. I made out me report +an' sent it to Alasky, an' then I went home to Pine Hook an' hoed me +garden a day, an' put in the next one choppin' firewood. It was after +supper that day an' the kiddies to bed, the wife comes out to where I +was an' sets down on the choppin' log beside me. I smokes me pipe, an' +don't pay her no mind, 'cause I was sore in the heart of me. After while +she lays a hand on the sleeve of me shirt. 'Jake,' she says, 'all the +winter an' spring the childer gabbles about the fun they'll be havin' +when daddy comes home.'" The man paused and grinned, slyly. "It's like a +woman to begin at the backwards of a thing an' work up to the front. I +bet when one gits to heaven it'll be the health of Adam an' Eve they'll +be inquirin' about furst, instead of John L. Sullivan, roight out. +Anyway, that's what she says, an' I replies in the negative by sayin' +nothin'. 'An' here you be'n home two days,' she goes on, an' stops, like +they's enough be'n said. + +"'An' I've hoed the garden, an' cut the firewood,' says I. 'What would +you be havin' me do?'" Again Hurley grinned: "I dropped a match in the +bung of an empty gasoline bar'l onct, that had laid in the sun behind +the store, thinkin' to see if it would make a good rain bar'l. It +didn't. Part of it made fair kindlin's, though, an' I was out an' around +in a week. Giant powder, gasoline, an' wimmin is all safe enough if ye +don't handle 'em careless--but, if ye do, ye git quick action--an' +plenty of it. + +"'Do!' she says, in the same tone of voice used by the gasoline bar'l +that day. 'Well, if you can't think of nothin' else to do, give the poor +darlints a beatin' just to let 'em know you're around!' Then she gits up +an' starts fer the house." Hurley held a match to his pipe and puffed +deeply for a few moments, "I never believed much in signs," he grinned, +"but they's some signs I heed--so I laughed. The laugh come from the +throat only, an' not from the heart, an' at the sound of it she turned, +an' then she come back slow an' set down agin on the choppin' log. 'Tell +me what's wrong, Jake,' she says. 'Two kin carry a load better than +one.' So I up an' told her, an' she set for quite a while an' looked out +over the slashin'. + +"'Is that all?' she says, after a bit. 'Is that what ye've be'n hoein' +an' choppin' over fer two days, an' gittin' madder with every whack--an' +not payin' no heed to the important things that's been pilin' up to be +done.' 'What's to be done?' says I, 'if it ain't the wood an' the +garden?' 'It's the first time ye ever come back from the woods an' +didn't see fer yerself what's to be done,' she says. 'With two wheels +busted off Jimmy's tote wagon, an' Paddy's logs in the crick an' on his +landin's waitin' fer daddy to show him how to build his dam an' sluice, +an' Jimmy with the timber all out fer his Injun stockade, an' waitin' +fer daddy to tell him does the logs go in crossways or up an' down!' + +"So the next week I put in loggin' on the crick behind the pig pen. We +put in a dam an' sluice, an' run a season's cut through, an' sorted 'em +an' boomed 'em, an even rigged a goat-power saw-mill that would jerk +the logs out of the crick but wouldn't cut 'em. An' by gosh, when the +week was gone I had some good schemes in me own head, an' takin' five +men with me, I went off up Dogfish an' studied the stream, an' this +spring they'll be jams where I want jams! An' I'm the bucko that'll be +on the head end, an' I'll bust 'em when I want to!" + +"You ain't obstructed navigation, have ye?" asked Lon, with concern. +"Cause if you have the Syndicate'll take it up in a minute, an' they'll +law ye out of ten seasons' profit. Buckin' the Syndicate has cost many a +little feller his pile. If they can't steal ye poor, they'll law ye +poor--an' it's the same thing fer the small operator." + +"Never you fret about the lawin', Lon. What I an' me five hearties put +into Dogfish last summer looks like drift piles from a summer rain, an' +the same charge of canned thunder that busts the jam will blow the +log-an' rock foundations of the drift piles to smithereens." + +Lon smoked in silence for a few moments, as though pondering the boss's +words, and as he smoked his lips gradually expanded into a grin of +approval. Hurley noted the smile: "An' it all come of me workin' out +the problems of a six-year old kid on the little crick behind the pig +pen. An' what's more, I've got some of the problems of the big river +more clear in me noodle." + +Saginaw Ed winked at Connie; and leaning over, whispered into the boy's +ear: "Hurley's done a smart thing," he confided, "an' it'll hurry the +drive out of Dogfish. But he ain't got to the meat of the trouble--an' +that's up to you an' me." + +As the season progressed Hurley had increased his crews until each +numbered one hundred and twenty-five men, and the daily work of these +men was an unceasing source of interest to Connie. Every moment that +could be spared from his duties, the boy was out among them, swinging an +axe with the swampers, riding the huge loads of logs that slipped +smoothly over the iced log roads on their trips to the landings, +standing beside Lon Camden as he scaled the incoming loads, or among the +sawyers, watching some mighty pine crash to earth with a roar of +protest. + +"I never seen a clerk before that ye could prize away from the office +stove with a pickpole," remarked Lon Camdon, one day, as he and Hurley +watched the boy riding toward them balanced upon the top log of a huge +load. + +"He'll know more about loggin' be spring," replied the boss, "than many +an' old lumberjack. It's the makin' of a fine boss the kid has." + +"He kin scale as good as me, a'ready," admitted Lon. "An' that other +kid, too--why just from trottin' 'round with this one he's got so he +shows some real stuff. If ever I picked a kid fer a bad egg it was him." + +"Me too," admitted Hurley. "But Connie stuck up for him, even after he'd +throw'd in with the I. W. W's. Steve kin have anything I've got," he +added, after a pause. "He saved me life, an' after the drive I'm goin' +to take him home with me up to Pine Hook, instead of turnin' him loose +to go to the bad around such dumps as Corky Dyer's where I picked him +up. He'd got a wrong start. It's like he was follerin' a log road, an' +got switched off onto a cross-haul--but, he's back on the main road +again, an' it's Jake Hurley'll keep him there." + +"He's all right, an' the men like him--but he ain't got the head the +other one has." + +"Sure he ain't!" agreed Hurley. "You kin take it from me, Lon, before +that there Connie is thirty, he'll be ownin' timber of his own." + +"I'd almost bet money on it," said Saginaw Ed, who had come up in time +to hear Hurley's prophecy. "Say boss, them irons come in fer the cook's +bateau; I expect we better put to work on it. Month from now, an' we'll +be listenin' night an' day fer the boomin' of the ice." + +The boss assented: "Hop to it, fer we don't want no delay when this +drive starts." + +Saginaw turned toward the blacksmith shop to give his orders regarding +the scow, in which the cook would follow the drive and furnish hot meals +for the rivermen. His eye fell upon Connie as the boy slid from the +load: "Better get over to the office, son," he grinned. "Slue Foot's +over there just a-meltin' the snow, 'cause you ain't around to sell him +a plug of terbacker." The boy joined him, and Saginaw cast a look at the +rollways: "Lots of logs on the landin's, son," he remarked. + +"Seven million, three hundred thousand feet, up to last night," said the +boy proudly. "Everything looks fine." + +"Fine as frog hair, son--which some folks holds is too fine to last." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well nothin' that I could name--only, what you said about Slue Foot's +bein' mixed up with the I. W. W. It's like I told you, them birds gits +jobs just so they kin git a chanct to distroy property. They don't want +to work, an' they don't want no one else to work. We caught three of 'em +tryin' to burn the stables, which is about their size, an' if the +sheriff served Doc's warrants, I guess they're in jail now. But how do +we know that them three was _all_ the I. W. W.'s in the outfit? An' how +do we know that Slue Foot ain't plottin' some move that'll put a crimp +in us somehow er other?" + +The boy smiled: "I've thought of that, too," he answered. "But I don't +think there is much danger from the I. W. W.'s. I've been watching Slue +Foot, and I know that he's not going to start anything. He was glad to +get those I. W. W.'s off the works. You see he's got a fish of his own +to fry. He belongs to the I. W. W. just because it's natural for him to +throw in with crooks and criminals, but he's so crooked himself that he +won't even play square with his gang of crooks. He saw a chance to make +some crooked money for himself, so he threw his friends over. We're all +right, because the more logs we put into the river the bigger his graft +is. And we've got him right where we want him. We can nail him in a +minute, if we want to, for swiping the old Irishman's money--but I don't +want to spring that unless I have to until I get the goods on the +Syndicate." + +Saginaw nodded: "I guess that's good dope, all right. But, if I was you, +I'd git a line on his scheme as soon as I could. You can't never tell +what'll happen in the woods--an' when it does, it's most generally +always somethin' different." + +As the boy continued his way to the office, after parting from Saginaw +at the blacksmith shop, he decided to carry out Saginaw's suggestion at +once. In fact, for a week or ten days Connie had been watching for an +opportunity to force Slue Foot to show his hand. And now he decided, the +time had come. There was no one in sight; the boss of Camp Two had +evidently gone into the office. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SLUE FOOT "COMES ACROSS" + + +As Connie pushed open the door he was greeted with a growl: "It's a +doggone wonder ye wouldn't stay 'round an' tend to business onct in a +while! Here I be'n waitin' half an' hour fer to git a plug of terbacker, +an' you off kihootin' 'round the woods----" + +"Save your growling, 'til someone's round to hear it," grinned the boy, +as he produced the key to the chest. "Here's your tobacco, twenty cents' +worth--makes thirty-two dollars and sixty cents, all told." + +"Thirty-two sixty!" Slue Foot glared: "Thought Hurley's outfits never +gouged the men on the wanagan?" he sneered. "My tab ain't over +twenty-five dollars at the outside." + +"Get it out of your system," retorted the boy. "You can't bluff me. +Thirty-two sixty's down here. Thirty-two sixty's right--and you know +it's right! What's on your mind? You didn't walk clear down from Camp +Two for a twenty-cent plug of tobacco, when you've got the biggest part +of a carton in your turkey." + +With his back to the stove, the boss scowled at the boy! "Smart kid, +ain't you?" The scowl faded from his face, an' he repeated: "Smart +kid--an' that's why I tuk a notion to ye, an'--'" he paused abruptly and +crossing to the window, took a position that commanded the clearing. +"--an' let ye in on some extry money." + +Connie nodded: "Yes, and it's about time you were loosening up on the +proposition--you haven't let me in yet." + +"Ain't let ye in!" exclaimed Slue Foot. "What ye mean, 'ain't let ye +in'? How about shadin' the cut?" + +"Shading the cut," exclaimed the boy, with contempt. "What's a couple of +hundred dollars? That's a piker's job--Injun stealing! You promised to +let me in on something big--now, come across." + +Slue Foot stared at him: "Say, who's runnin' this, you? Yer all-fired +cocky fer a kid. When I was your age a couple hundred dollars looked +big as a township o' timber to me." + +"Well, it don't to me," snapped the boy. "And you might as well come +across." + +Slue Foot advanced one threatening step: "Who d'ye think ye're talkin' +to?" he roared. "I'll break ye in two!" + +"And when I break, you break," smiled the boy. "Let me tell you this, +Slue Foot Magee, I've got these books fixed so that if anything happens +to me, your nose goes under, and all that's left is a string of +bubbles--see? I've been doing some figuring lately, and I've decided the +time's about right for me to get in on the other. According to the talk, +it will be twenty or thirty days yet before the break-up. But, suppose +the break-up should come early this year--early and sudden? You'd have +your hands full and couldn't waste time on me. And besides you'd never +let me in then, anyway. You're only letting me in because I'm supposed +to furnish the dope on what's going on here. I'm playing safe--see the +point?" + +Slue Foot glowered: "An' what if I've changed my mind about lettin' ye +in?" he asked truculently. + +"Oh, then I'll just naturally sell your cut-shading scheme out to +Hurley and his boss for what I can get--and let you stand the gaff." + +Slue Foot's fists clenched, a big vein stood out upon his reddened +forehead, and he seemed to swell visibly: "You--you'd double-cross me, +would you?" + +"Sure, I would," said the boy, "if you don't come through. Look here, +Slue Foot, business is business. I wouldn't trust you as far as I can +throw a saw log, and you may as well get that right now." + +"How do I know you won't double-cross me on the big deal?" asked the +man. + +"Matter of figures," answered Connie. "You don't suppose Hurley and his +boss would pay me as much as we can get out of the logs do you? Of +course they won't--but they might agree to pay me as much as I'll get +out of the cut-shading--especially if I tell them that you've got a +bigger game up your sleeve. You might as well be reasonable. It'll be +better all around if you and I understand each other. They're beginning +to talk in here about the drive. If I don't know what your scheme is, +how am I to know what to remember? I can't remember everything they +say, and if I'm onto the game I can pick out what'll do us good, and +not bother with the rest." + +Once more Slue Foot took up his place by the window, and for some +minutes the only sound in the little office was the ticking of the alarm +clock. Finally the man spoke: "I figgered you was smart all +right--smarter'n the run of kids. But I didn't figger you could +out-figger me--or believe me, I'd of laid off of ye." The boss of Camp +Two sat and scowled at the boy for several minutes. Then he spoke, +sullenly at first, but as he warmed to his topic, the sullenness gave +place to a sort of crafty enthusiasm--a fatuous pride in his cleverly +planned scheme of fraud. "I was goin' to let ye in anyhow, so I s'pose +it might's well be now as later. But, git this, right on the start: ye +ain't bluffed me into takin' ye in, an' ye ain't scared me into it. +You've augered me into it by common sense ... what ye said about they +might come a sudden thaw, an' we'd be too busy to git together--an' +about you knowin' what to remember of the talk that goes on here. + +"It's like this: The logs is paint-branded, an' the mark of this outfit +is the block-an'-ball in red on the butt end. They're branded on the +landin's, an' I done the markin' myself. Last year Hurley inspected 'em +an' so did Lon, an' they know the brands showed up big an' bright an' +sassy. But when them logs reached the booms an' was sorted they +wasn't near as many of them wearin' the red block-an'-ball as +when they started--an' the difference is what I split up with the +Syndicate--boom-toll free!" + +"You mean," asked the boy, "that the Syndicate men changed the brands, +or painted them out and painted their own over them?" + +Slue Foot sneered. "Ye're pretty smart--some ways. But ye ain't smart +enough to change a red block-an'-ball to a green tripple X. An' as fer +paintin' over 'em, why if a log hit the big river with a brand painted +out they'd be a howl go up that would rock the big yaller ball on top of +the capital. No sir, it takes brains to make money loggin'. The big ones +has stole and grabbed up into the millions--an' they do it accordin' to +law--because they've got the money to make the law an' twist it to suit +theirselves. They put up thousands fer lobbys an' legislaters, an' fer +judges an' juries, an' they drag down millions. The whole timber game's +a graft. The big operators grab water rights, an' timber rights, an' +they even grab the rivers. An' they do it legal because they own the +dummies that makes the laws. The little operator ain't got no show. If +he don't own his own timber he has to take what he can get in stumpage +contracks, an' whether he owns it or not they git him on water-tolls, +an' when he hits the river there's boom-tolls an' sortin'-tolls, an' by +the time he's got his logs to the mills an' sold accordin' to the boom +scale he ain't got nawthin' left, but his britches--an' lucky to have +them. All business is crooked. If everyone was honest they wouldn't be +no millionaires. If a man's got a million, he's a crook. It ain't no +worse fer us little ones to steal agin' the law, than it is fer the big +ones to steal accordin' to law." Fairly started upon his favourite +theme, Slue Foot worked himself into a perfect rage as he ranted on. +"This here outfit's a little outfit," he continued. "It ain't got no +show, nohow. I seen the chanct to git in on the graft an' I grabbed +it--if I hadn't, the Syndicate would have had it all. An' besides I got +a chance to git square with Hurley. They's two kinds of folks in the +world--them that has, an' them that hain't. Them that has, has because +they've retch out an' grabbed, an' them that hain't, hain't because +they wasn't smart enough to hang onto what they did have." Connie +listened with growing disgust to the wolfish diatribe. Slue Foot's eyes +blazed as he drove his yellow fangs deep into his tobacco plug. "But +people's wakin' up to their rights," he continued. "There's the +Socialists an' the I. W. W.'s, they're partly right, an' partly wrong. +The Socialists wants, as near as I kin make out, a equal distribution o' +wealth--that ain't so bad, except that there's only a few of 'em, an' +they'd be doin' all the work to let a lot of others that don't do +nawthin', in on their share of the dividin'. What's the use of me +a-workin' so someone else that don't help none gits a equal share? An' +the I. W. W.'s is about as bad. They try to bust up everything, an' +wreck, an' smash, an' tear down--that's all right, fer as it goes--but, +what's it goin' to git 'em? Where do they git off at? They ain't +figgered themselves into no profit by what they do. What's it goin' to +git me if I burn down a saw-mill? I don't git the mill, do I? No--an' +neither don't they. What I'm after is gittin' it off them that's got it, +an' lettin' it stick to me. I ain't worryin' about no one else. It's +every man fer hisself--an' I'm fer _me!_" The boss prodded himself in +the chest, as he emphasized the last word. "An' if you want yourn, you'd +better stick with me--we'll gather." + +It was with difficulty that Connie masked the loathing he felt for this +man whose creed was more despicable even than the creed of the organized +enemies of society, for Slue Foot unhesitatingly indorsed all their +viciousness, but discarded even their lean virtues. + +For three years the boy's lot had been cast among men--rough men of the +great outland. He had known good men and bad men, but never had he known +a man whom he so utterly despised as this Slue Foot Magee. The bad men +he had know were defiant in their badness, they flaunted the law to its +face--all except Mr. Squigg, who was a sneak with the heart of a weasel, +and didn't count. But this man, as bad as the worst of them, sought to +justify his badness. Connie knew what Waseche Bill, or big MacDougall +would have done if this human wolf had sought to persuade them to throw +in with him on his dirty scheme, and he knew what Hurley or Saginaw Ed +would do--and unconsciously, the boy's fists doubled. Then came the +memory of McKeever and Ricky, the men of the Mounted with whom he had +worked in the bringing of bad men to justice. What would McKeever do? +The boy's fists relaxed. "He'd get him," he muttered under his breath. +"He'd throw in with him, and find out all he could find out, and then +he'd--_get him!_" + +"Whut's that?" Slue Foot asked the question abruptly, and Connie faced +him with a grin: + +"Your dope sounds good to me," he said, "but come across with the +scheme. Hurley or Saginaw may drop in here any time. If the Syndicate +didn't change the brands, or paint over them, how did they work it?" + +"They didn't work it--it was me that worked it. All they done was to +furnish me the paint an' put their own marks on the logs after I'd got +'em into the big river, brand free. It's this way: Brandin' paint will +stand water. You kin paint-brand a log here an' the brand will still be +on it if it floats clean to New Orleans. That's the kind of paint Hurley +furnished. An' that's the kind of paint that went on some of the logs. +But another kind went on the rest of the logs. It was just as red an' +just as purty lookin' as the other--while the logs stayed on the +rollways. After they'd b'en in the water a while they wasn't no paint on +'em. German chemists mixed that paint--an' water'll take it off, like +it'll take dirt offen a floor--easier 'cause you don't have to use no +soap, an' you don't have to do no scrubbin'--it jest na'chelly melts an' +floats off. Hurley bossed the rear end drive, an' when our crews got to +the mills, the Syndicate had saw to it that all unbranded logs was took +care of an' wore the green tripple X." + +Connie nodded and Slue Foot continued: "Pretty slick, eh? But they's +more to it than that. It's got to be worked right. I had to slip Long +Leaf Olson the word when the rollways would be busted out so he could +foul our drive an' git his logs in on the head end. Then, there was the +dickerin' with the Syndicate. It took some rammin' around before I got +next to old Heinie Metzger--he's the big boss of the Syndicate. I worked +it through passin' myself off fer Hurley to a stuck-up young +whipper-snapper name of von Kuhlmann, that's old Heinie's +side-kick--confidential secretary, he calls him. Them Germans is slick, +but at last we got together an' made the deal, an' they paid me all +right, boom scale, when the logs was in. This here von Kuhlmann hisself +slipped me the money--he's a funny galoot, always swelled up an' blowin' +like he owned the world, an' always noddin' an' winkin', like they was +somethin' he was holdin' out on ye, as if he know'd somethin' that no +one else know'd--an' brag! You'd ort to hear him brag about Germany, +like they wasn't no other reg'lar country, the rest of the world just +bein' a kind of place that wasn't hardly worth mentionin'. They say the +Syndicate stock is all owned in Germany, an' some of the cruisers that's +worked fer 'em say it's a sight the amount of stuff they make 'em put in +their reports. Accordin' to his job a cruiser or a land-looker is +supposed to estimate timber. But the cruisers that works fer the +Syndicate is supposed to report on everything from the number of box +cars an' engines on the railroads, to the size of the towns, an' the +number of folks in 'em that's Socialists an' I. W. W.'s. an' their name. +They don't care nawthin about wastin' postage stamps, neither, 'cause +all that stuff is sent over to Germany. What do they care over in the +old country how many box cars is on some little old branch loggin' road +in the timber country, or how many I. W. W.'s. lives in Thief River +Falls? + +"An speakin' of I. W. W.'s--them Germans is slick some ways, an' blamed +fools in another. With the I. W. W.'s. threatenin' the timber interests, +these here Germans, that owns more mills an' standin' timber than any +one else, is eggin' 'em on an' slippin' 'em money to keep 'em goin'. The +I. W. W.'s., don't know that--an' I wouldn't neither except fer a lucky +accident, an' I cashed in on it, too." The man paused and grinned +knowingly. "In Duluth, it was, we pulled off a meetin' right under the +nose of the police, an' not one of 'em in the hall. Called it a +Socialist meetin', an' word was passed that they was a feller name of +Mueller, from Germany, a student that was wised up to every wrinkle from +blowin' up dams to wipin' out the Government. He come with greetin's +from the 'brothers acrost the sea,' he said, an' what was more to the +point, he brung along a nice fat package of cash money which he claimed +had be'n raised by subscription fer to help the cause over here. I +listened an' kep' a studyin' about where I'd saw this here Mueller +before, but it didn't stand to reason I had, an' him just over from +Germany. But they was somethin' about him made me sure I know'd him. He +was dressed cheap an' wore glasses half an inch thick, an' they hadn't +no barber be'n into his hair fer quite a spell; he'd needed a shave fer +about three weeks, too, an' he looked like a reg'lar b'ilin' out +wouldn't of hurt him none. Anyways, before the meetin' was over, I'd +spotted him, so 'long about midnight, after the meetin' had be'n over +about an hour I loafs down to the hotel. It was a cheap dump, a hang-out +fer lumberjacks an' lake sailors, an' I know'd the clerk an' didn't have +no trouble gittin' to his room. + +"'Hello, von Kuhlmann,' I says, when he opens the door, an' with a wild +look up an' down the hall to see if any one had heard, he reaches out +an' yanks me in. Tried to bluff it out first, but it wasn't no use." +Slue Foot grinned: "I come out in about a half an hour with five hundred +dollars in my jeans. These here 'brothers from acrost the sea' is sure +some donaters when you git 'em where you want 'em--'course this here +student business was all bunk. But, what I ain't never be'n able to git +onto is, what in thunder does the Syndicate want to be slippin' the I. +W. W. money fer?" + +"Are you an I. W. W.?" Connie shot the question directly. + +Slue Foot hesitated a moment and then answered evasively. "Git me +right, kid, I'm anything that's agin' capital--an' I'm anything that's +agin' the Government. First and foremostly, I'm fer Magee. No man kin +make money by workin'. I've got money, an' I'm a-goin' to git more--an' +I don't care how it's come by. I'm a wolf, an' I'll howl while the +rabbit squeals! I'm a bird of prey! I'm a Government all my own! All +Governments is birds of prey, an' beasts of prey. What do you see on +their money, an' their seals, an' their flags--doves, an' rabbits, an' +little fawns? No, it's eagles, an' bears, an' lions--beasts that rips, +an' tears, an' crushes, an' kills! + +"You're lucky to git to throw in with a man like me--to git started out +right when yer young. If you wasn't smart, I wouldn't fool with ye, but +I'll git mine, an' you'll git yourn--an' some day, von Kuhlmann's kind +of let it slip, they's somethin' big comin' off. I don't know what he's +drivin' at, but it's somethin' he's all-fired sure is a-goin' to +happen--an' he's kind of hinted that when it comes he kin use a few like +me to good advantage." + +"What kind of a thing's coming off?" + +"I jest told ye I don't know--mebbe the Syndicate's goin' to grab off +all the timber they is, or mebbe it's figgerin' on grabbin' the hull +Government, or the State--but whatever it is, he kin count on me bein' +in on it--if he pays enough--an' by the time he pays it, I'd ort to know +enough about the game so's I kin flop over to the other side an' sell +him out. It's the ones that plays both ends from the middle that gits +theirn--brains makes the money--not hands." + +Slue Foot glanced out the window and turned to the boy. "Here comes +Saginaw. When he gits here I'll growl an' you sass. Remember to keep +your ears open an' find out when Hurley's goin' to break out the +rollways, an' where he's goin' to deliver the logs. I've tended to the +brandin'--if they's anything more I'll let ye know." Slue Foot paused +and scowled darkly: "An' don't try to double-cross me! They ain't +nothin' I've told ye that ye could prove anyhow. An' even if ye could, +it's just as you said, this outfit won't pay ye as much as what you'll +git out of the deal by playin' square with me." + +The door opened and Saginaw Ed entered, to interrupt a perfect torrent +of abuse from Slue Foot, and a rapid fire of recrimination from the boy. +Presently the boss of Camp Two departed, threatening to have Connie +fired for incompetence, as soon as he could get in a word with Hurley. + +[Illustration: SLUE FOOT TURNED. "THINK Y'RE AWFUL SMART, DON'T YE?"] + +On the tote road at the edge of the clearing, Slue Foot turned and gazed +at the little office. And as he gazed an evil smile twisted his lips: +"Think yer awful smart, don't ye? Well, yer in on the scheme--'cause I +need ye in. An' I'll use ye fer all there is in ye--but when cashin'-in +time comes, yer goin' to be left whistlin' fer yourn--er my name ain't +Slue Foot Magee!" Then the smile slowly faded from his face, and +removing his cap, he thoughtfully scratched his head. "Only trouble is, +he _is_ smart--an' where'll I git off at, if it turns out he's too +_doggone_ smart?" + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HEINIE METZGER + + +Saginaw Ed listened as Connie detailed at length all that Slue Foot had +told him. When the boy finished, the woodsman removed his pipe and +regarded him thoughtfully: "Takin' it off an' on, I've know'd some +consider'ble ornery folks in my time, but I never run acrost none that +was as plumb crooked as this here specimen. Why, along side of him a +corkscrew is straight as a stretched fiddle gut. He ain't square with no +one. But, a man like him can't only go so far--his rope is short, an' +when he comes to the end of it, they ain't a-goin' to be no knot fer to +hang holt of. A man that's double-crossed folks like he has ain't got no +right to expect to git away with it. If they don't no one else git him, +the law will." + +"Yes," answered the boy, "and we've got enough on him so that when the +law gets through with him he's not going to have much time left for any +more crookedness." + +"How d'you figger on workin' it?" asked Saginaw. + +Connie laughed: "I haven't had time to dope it out yet, but there's no +use starting anything 'til just before the drive. Slue Foot's crowding +'em up there in Camp Two, putting every last log he can get onto the +landings--he said he'd have close to three million feet branded with his +own paint." + +"Expects Hurley's goin' to let Long Leaf boss the drive agin, I s'pose +an' the Syndicate crew do the sortin'!" + +"I guess that's what's he's counting on," answered the boy. "Hurley will +tend to that part. And now we know his scheme, the logs are safe--what +we want is evidence. When we get him we want to get him right." + +Saginaw Ed rose to go. "It's up to you, son, to figger out the best way. +Whatever you say goes. Take yer time an' figger it out good--'cause you +want to remember that the Syndicate owes ye some thirty-odd thousand +dollars they stoled off ye last year, an'----" + +"Thirty-odd thousand?" + +"Sure--ye stood to clean up twenty thousan', didn't ye? Instead of which +ye lost fourteen thousan'--that's thirty-four thousan', ain't it? An' +here's somethin' fer to remember when yer dealin' with the Syndicate: +Never law 'em if you can git out of it. They've got the money--an' you +ain't got no square deal. Git the dope on 'em, an' then settle out o' +court, with old Heinie Metzger." + +When Saginaw had gone, Connie sat for hours at his desk thinking up +plans of action, discarding them, revising them, covering whole sheets +of paper with pencilled figures. + +When, at last, he answered the supper call and crossed the clearing to +the cook's camp, a peculiar smile twitched the corners of his lips. + +"I've got to go up the road a piece an' figger on a couple of new +skidways," said Saginaw, when the four who bunked in the office arose +from the table. "It's good an' moonlight, an' I kin git the swampers +started on 'em first thing in the morning." + +"I'll go with you," decided the boy, "I've been cooped up all the +afternoon, and I'll be glad of the chance to stretch my legs." + +Leaving Hurley and Lon Camden, the two struck off up one of the broad, +iced log roads that reached into the timber like long fingers clutching +at the very heart of the forest. The task of locating the skidways was +soon finished and Saginaw seated himself on a log and produced pipe and +tobacco. "Well, son," he said, "what's the game? I watched ye whilst we +was eatin', an' I seen ye'd got it figgered out." + +After a moment of silence, Connie asked abruptly: "How am I going to +manage to get away for a week or ten days?" + +"Git away!" exclaimed Saginaw. "You mean leave camp?" + +The boy nodded: "Yes, I've got to go." He seated himself astride the log +and talked for an hour, while Saginaw, his pipe forgotten, listened. +When the boy finished Saginaw sat in silence, the dead pipe clenched +between his teeth. + +"Well, what do you think of it?" + +The other removed the pipe, and spat deliberately into the snow. "Think +of it?" he replied, "I never was much hand fer thinkin'--an' them big +figgers you're into has got me woozy headed. Personal an' private, I'm +tellin' ye right out, I don't think it'll work. It sounds good the way +you spoke it, but--why, doggone it, that would be outfiggerin' the +_Syndicate!_ It would be lettin' 'em beat theirself at their own game! +It can't be did! They ain't no one kin do it. It ain't on." + +"What's the matter with it?" asked the boy. + +"Matter with it! I can't find nothin' the matter with it--That's why it +won't work!" + +Connie laughed: "We'll make it work! All you've got to remember is that +if any stranger comes into the camp asking for Hurley, you steer him up +against Slue Foot. This von Kuhlmann himself will probably come, and if +he does it will be all right--he knows Slue Foot by sight. The only +thing that's bothering me is how am I going to ask Hurley for a week or +ten days off? Frenchy's going in tomorrow, and I've got to go with him." + +Saginaw Ed slapped his mittened hand against his leg: "I've got it," he +exclaimed. "There was three new hands come in today--good whitewater men +fer the drive. One of 'em's Quick-water Quinn. I've worked with him off +an' on fer it's goin' on fifteen year. He'll do anything fer me, account +of a little deal onct, which he believed I saved his life. I'll slip +over to the men's camp an' write a letter to you. Then later, when we're +all in the office, Quick-water, he'll fetch it over an' ask if you're +here, an' give it to ye. Then ye read it, and take on like you've got to +go right away fer a week er so. You don't need to make any +explainin'--jest stick to it you've got to go. Hurley'll prob'ly rave +round an' tell ye ye can't, an' bawl ye out, an' raise a rookus +generally, but jest stick to it. If it gits to where ye have to, jest +tell him you quit. That'll bring him 'round. He sets a lot of store by +you, an' he'll let ye go if ye make him." + +And so it happened that just as the four were turning in that night, a +lumberjack pushed open the door. "Is they any one here name o' C. +Morgan?" he asked. + +Connie stepped forward, and the man thrust a letter into his hand: +"Brung it in with me from the postoffice. They told me over to the men's +camp you was in here." + +Connie thanked the man, and carrying the letter to the light, tore it +open and read. At the end of five minutes he looked up: "I've got to go +out with Frenchy in the morning," he announced. + +Hurley let a heavy boot fall with a thud, and stared at the boy as +though he had taken leave of his senses. "Go out!" he roared, "What'ye +mean, go out?" + +"I've got to go for a week or ten days. It's absolutely necessary or I +wouldn't do it." + +"A wake er tin days, sez he!" Hurley lapsed into brogue, as he always +did when aroused or excited. "An' fer a wake or tin days the books kin +run theirsilf! Well, ye can't go--an' that's all there is to ut!" + +"I've got to go," repeated Connie stubbornly. "If I don't go out with +Frenchy, I'll walk out!" + +The boss glared at him. "I know'd things wuz goin' too good to last. But +Oi didn't think th' trouble wuz a-comin' from ye. Ye can tell me, mebbe, +what, Oi'm a-goin' to do widout no clerk whoilst yer gaddin' round +havin' a good toime? Ye can't go!" + +"Steve can run the wanagan, and Lon, and Saginaw, and Slue Foot can hold +their reports 'til I get back. I'll work night and day then 'til I catch +up." + +"They ain't a-goin' to be no ketch up!" roared Hurley. "Here ye be, an' +here ye'll stay! Av ye go out ye'll stay out!" + +Connie looked the big boss squarely in the eye: "I'm sorry, Hurley. +I've liked you, and I've liked my job. But I've got to go. You'll find +the books all up to the minute." Hurley turned away with a snort and +rolled into his bunk, and a few minutes later, Connie blew out the lamp +and crawled between his own warm blankets, where he lay smiling to +himself in the darkness. + +By lamplight next morning the boy was astir. He placed his few +belongings in his turkey, and when the task was accomplished he noticed +that Hurley was watching him out of the corner of his eye. He tied the +sack as the others sat upon the edge of the bunks and drew on their +boots. And in silence they all crossed the dark clearing toward the +cook's camp. + +With a great jangle of bells, Frenchy drew his tote-team up before the +door just as they finished breakfast. Connie tossed his turkey into the +sleigh and turned to Hurley who stood by with Lon Camden and Saginaw Ed. +"I'll take my time, now," said the boy, quietly. "And good luck to you +all!" + +For answer the big boss reached over and, grabbing the turkey, sent it +spinning into the boy's bunk. "Ye don't git no toime!" he bellowed. +"Jump in wid Frenchy now, an' don't be shtandin' 'round doin' nawthin'. +Tin days ye'll be gone at the outsoide, an' av' ye ain't at yer disk +here be th' 'leventh day, Oi'll br-reak ye in two an' grease saws wid +the two halves av ye!" Reaching into his pocket, he drew forth a roll of +bills. "How much money d'ye nade? Come spake up! Ye kin have all, or +par-rt av ut--an' don't ye iver let me hear ye talk av quittin' agin, er +Oi'll woind a peavy around yer head." + +Connie declined the money and jumped into the sleigh, and with a crack +of the whip, Frenchy sent the horses galloping down the tote road. When +they were well out of hearing the Frenchman laughed. "Dat Hurley she lak +for mak' de beeg bluff, w'at you call; she mak' you scairt lak she gon' +keel you, an' den she giv' you all de mon' she got." + +"He's the best boss in the woods!" cried the boy. + +"_Oui_ dat rat. Ba goss, we'n she roar an' bluff, dat ain' w'en you got +for look out! Me--A'm know 'bout dat. A'm seen heem lick 'bout fifty men +wan tam. Ovaire on----" + +"Oh, come now, Frenchy--not fifty men." + +"Well, was seex, anyhow. Ovaire on Leech Lak' an' _sacre!_ He ain' say +nuttin', dat tam--joos' mak' hees eyes leetle an' shine lak de _loup +cervier_--an' smash, smash, smash! An', by goss, 'bout twenty of dem +feller, git de busted head." + +Connie laughed, and during all the long miles of the tote road +he listened to the exaggerated and garbled stories of the +Frenchman--stories of log drives, of fights, of bloody accidents, and of +"hants" and windagoes. At the railroad, the boy helped the teamster and +the storekeeper in the loading of the sleigh until a long-drawn whistle +announced the approach of his train. When it stopped at the tiny +station, he climbed aboard, and standing on the platform, waved his hand +until the two figures whisked from sight and the train plunged between +its flanking walls of pine. + +In Minneapolis Connie hunted up the office of the Syndicate, which +occupied an entire floor, many stories above the sidewalk, of a tall +building. He was a very different looking Connie from the roughly clad +boy who had clambered onto the train at Dogfish. A visit to a big +department store had transformed him from a lumberjack into a youth +whose clothing differed in no marked particular from the clothing of +those he passed upon the street. But there was a difference that had +nothing whatever to do with clothing--a certain something in the easy +swing of his stride, the poise of his shoulders, the healthy bronzed +skin and the clear blue eyes, that caused more than one person to pause +upon the sidewalk for a backward glance at the boy. + +Connie stepped from the elevator, hesitated for a second before a +heavily lettered opaque glass door, then turned the knob and entered, to +find himself in a sort of pen formed by a low railing in which was a +swinging gate. Before him, beyond the railing, dozens of girls sat at +desks their fingers fairly flying over the keys of their clicking +typewriters. Men with green shades over their eyes, and queer black +sleeves reaching from their wrists to their elbows, sat at other desks. +Along one side of the great room stood a row of box-like offices, each +with a name lettered upon its glass door. So engrossed was the boy in +noting these details that he started at the sound of a voice close +beside him. He looked down into the face of a girl who sat before a +complicated looking switchboard. + +"Who do you wish to see?" she asked. + +Connie flushed to the roots of his hair. It was almost the first time in +his life that any girl had spoken to him--and this one was smiling. Off +came his hat. "Is--is Heinie Metzger in?" he managed to ask. Connie's +was a voice tuned to the big open places, and here in the office of the +Syndicate it boomed loudly--so loudly that the girls at the nearer +typewriters looked up swiftly and then as swiftly stooped down to pick +up imaginary articles from the floor; the boy could see that they were +trying to suppress laughter. And the girl at the switchboard? He glanced +from the others to this one who was close beside him. Her face was red +as his own, and she was coughing violently into a tiny handkerchief. + +"Caught cold?" he asked. "Get your feet dry, and take a dose of quinine, +and you'll be all right--if you don't get pneumonia and die. If Heinie +ain't in I can come again." Somehow the boy felt that he would like to +be out of this place. He felt stifled and very uncomfortable. He +wondered if girls always coughed into handkerchiefs or clawed around on +the floor to keep from laughing at nothing. He hoped she would say that +Heinie Metzger was not in. + +"Have you a card?" the girl had recovered from her coughing fit, but her +face was very red. + +"A what?" asked the boy. + +"A card--your name." + +"Oh, my name is Connie Morgan." + +"And, your address?" + +"Ma'am?" + +"Where do you live?" + +"Ten Bow." + +"Where? Is it in Minnesota?" + +"No, it's in Alaska--and I wish I was back there right now." + +"And, your business?" + +"I want to see Heinie Metzger about some logs." + +A man passing the little gate in the railing whirled and glared at him. +He was a very disagreeable looking young man with a fat, heavy face, +pouchy eyes of faded blue, and stiff, close-cropped reddish hair that +stuck straight up on his head like pig's bristles. "Looks like he'd been +scrubbed," thought Connie as he returned glare for glare. The man +stepped through the gate and thrust his face close to the boy's. + +"Vat you mean, eh?" + +"Are you Heinie Metzger?" + +"No, I am not _Herr_ Metzger. _Unt_ it pays you you shall be civil to +your betters. You shall say _Herr_ Metzger, _oder_ Mister Metzger. _Unt_ +he has got not any time to be mit poys talking. Vat you vanted? If you +got pusiness, talk mit me. I am _Herr_ von Kuhlmann, confidential +secretary to _Herr_ Metzger." + +"I thought you were the barber," apologized the boy. "But anyhow, you +won't do. I want to see Heinie Metzger, or 'hair' Metzger, or Mister +Metzger, whichever way you want it. I want to sell him some logs." + +The other sneered: "Logs! He wants to sell it some logs! _Unt_ how much +logs you got--on de vagon a load, maybe? Ve dondt fool mit logs here, +exceptingly ve get anyhow a trainload--_unt_ _Herr_ Metzger dondt +mention efen, less dan half a million feets. Vere iss your logs?" + +"I've got 'em in my pocket," answered the boy. "Come on, Dutchy, you're +wasting my time. Trot along, now; and tell this Metzger there's a fellow +out here that's got about eight or nine million feet of white pine to +sell----" + +"Vite pine! Eight million feets! You krasy?" The man stooped and swung +open the little gate. "Come along _mit_ me, _unt_ if you trying some +foolishness _mit_ _Herr_ Metzger, you vish you vas some blace else to +have stayed avay." He paused before a closed door, and drawing himself +very erect, knocked gently. A full minute of silence, then from the +interior came a rasping voice: + +"Who is it?" + +"It is I, sir, von Kuhlmann, at your service, _unt_ I have _mit_ me one +small poy who say he has it some logs to sell." + +Again the voice rasped from behind the partition--a thin voice, yet, in +it's thinness, somehow suggesting brutality: "Why should you come to me? +Why don't you buy his logs and send him about his business?" + +Von Kuhlmann cleared his throat nervously: "He says it iss vite +pine--eight million feets." + +"Show him in, you fool! What are you standing out there for?" + +Von Kuhlmann opened the door and motioned Connie to enter: + +"_Herr_ Morgan," he announced, bowing low. + +"Connie Morgan," corrected the boy quickly, as he stepped toward the +desk and offered his hand to the small, grey-haired man, with the +enormous eyeglasses, and the fierce upturned mustache. "I suppose you +are Heinie Metzger," he announced. + +The man glared at him, his thin nostrils a-quiver. Then, in a dry, +cackling voice, bade Connie be seated, giving the extended hand the +merest touch. Von Kuhlmann withdrew noiselessly, and closed the door. +Metzger opened a drawer and drew forth a box of cigars which he opened, +and extended toward the boy. Connie declined, and replacing the cigars, +the man drew from another drawer, a box of cigarettes, and when the boy +declined those he leaned back in his chair and stared at Connie through +his glasses, as one would examine a specimen at the zoo. + +[Illustration: HE LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND STARED AT CONNIE THROUGH +HIS GLASSES, AS ONE WOULD EXAMINE A SPECIMEN AT THE ZOO.] + +"Young man, how do I know you have any logs?" the question rasped +suddenly from between half-closed lips. + +"You don't know it," answered the boy. "That's why I came here to tell +you." + +"White pine, you said," snapped the man, after a pause. "Eight million +feet?" + +"Yes, white pine--at least eight million, maybe nine, and possibly more, +if we continue to have good luck." + +"Where are these logs?" + +"On our landings on Dogfish River." + +"Dogfish! You're the man from Alaska that bought the McClusky tract?" + +"I'm his partner." + +"Show a profit last year?" + +"No. But we only had one camp then, and this year we have two and each +one has cut more than the one we had last year." + +"Who did you sell to, last year?" + +"Baker & Crosby." + +"Satisfied with their boom scale?" + +"Well, no, we weren't. That's why we thought we'd offer the cut to you +this year, if you want it." + +"Want it! Of course we want it--that is, if the price is right." + +"What will you pay?" + +_Herr_ Heinrich Metzger removed his glasses and dangled them by their +wide black ribbon, as he glanced along his thin nose. "Sure you can +deliver eight million feet?" he asked. + +"Yes, our foreman reports eight million already on the rollways, or in +the woods all ready for the rollways. Yes, I can be sure of eight +million." + +"We have a big contract," said Metzger, "that is just about eight +million feet short of being filled. If we can be sure of getting the +entire eight million in one lump, we could afford to pay more--much +more, in fact, than we could if there was anything short of eight +million feet." + +Connie nodded: "There will be eight million feet, at least," he +repeated. "What will you pay?" + +For a long time the other was silent, then he spoke: "It is a large +deal," he said. "There are many things to consider. Lest we make haste +too quickly, I must have time to consider the transaction in all it's +phases. Meet me here one week from today, at eleven o'clock, and I will +give you a figure." + +"A week is a long time," objected the boy, "And I am a long way from +home." + +"Yes, yes, but there are others--associates of mine in the business with +whom I must consult." The boy had risen to go, when the man stayed him +with a motion. "Wait," he commanded. "Your name is----?" + +"Morgan--Connie Morgan." + +"To be sure--Connie Morgan." He picked the receiver from the hook of his +desk phone. "Get me the Laddison Hotel," he commanded, and hung up the +receiver. "The delay is of my own making, therefore I should pay for it. +You will move your luggage into the Laddison Hotel, which is the best in +the city, and shall remain there until our deal is closed, at the +expense of this company----" + +"But," objected the boy, "suppose the deal don't go through?" + +"The expense will be ours whether the deal goes through or not. You see, +I am confident that we can deal." + +The telephone rang and Metzger made the arrangements, and again, turned +to the boy. "Each evening at dinner time, you are to ask at the desk for +an envelope. In the envelope you will receive a ticket to the theatre. +This, also, at our expense." He smiled broadly. "You see, we treat our +guests well. We do not wish them to become tired of our city, and we +wish those with whom we have dealings to think well of us." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CONNIE SELLS SOME LOGS + + +Connie Morgan left the office of the Syndicate, and once more upon the +sidewalk, filled his lungs with the keen air. "It's going to work!" +"It's going to work!" he repeated over and over to himself as he made +his way toward the store where he had left his discarded clothing +stuffed into a brand new brown leather suitcase. The boy returned +unhesitatingly to the store, not by means of street signs, but by the +simple process of back-trailing. Trained in observation, his eyes had +unfailingly registered the landmarks in his brain--even when that brain +had been too busy wondering what was to be the outcome of his conference +with Heinie Metzger, to know that it was receiving impressions. It was +this trained habit of observation that had enabled him to select his +wearing apparel and the brown leather suitcase. He had simply studied +the passengers on the train, and selecting a man who looked well +dressed, had copied his apparel and even his suitcase. + +The clerk at the store directed him to his hotel, and a few minutes +later he stood in the window of a thickly carpeted room, and stared out +over the roofs of buildings. "It's--it's like the mountains," he mused, +"stretching away, peak after peak, as far as you can see, and the +streets are the canyons and the valleys--only this is more--lonesome." +Tiring of looking out over the roofs, he put on his overcoat and spent +the afternoon upon the streets, admiring the goods in the store windows +and watching the people pass and repass upon the sidewalks. It was a +mild, sunshiny afternoon and the streets were thronged with ladies, the +browns, and greys, and blacks, and whites of their furs making a pretty +kaleidoscope of colour. + +At the Union Station he procured a folder and after looking up the +departure of trains, returned to his hotel. He walked back at the time +when factories, stores, and office buildings were disgorging their human +flood onto the streets, and the boy gazed about him in wonder as he +elbowed his way along the sidewalk. He smiled to himself. "I guess I +don't know much about cities. In the store I was wondering where in the +world they were going to find the people to buy all the stuff they had +piled around, and when I was looking out the window, I wondered if there +were enough people in the world to live in all the houses--and now I'm +wondering if there is enough stuff to go around, and enough houses to +hold 'em all." + +In this room Connie glanced at his watch, performed a hasty toilet, and +hurried into the elevator. "Gee, it's most six!" he muttered, "I bet I'm +late for supper." He was surprised to find men in the lobby, sitting +about in chairs or talking in groups, as they had been doing when he +left in the afternoon. "Maybe they don't have it 'til six," he thought, +and seating himself in a leather chair, waited with his eyes on the +clock. Six o'clock came, and when the hand reached five minutes after, +he strolled to the desk. "Anything here for me?" he asked. The clerk +handed him an envelope. "Heinie's making good," thought the boy, and +then, trying not to look hungry, he turned to the clerk: "Cook hollered +yet?" he asked casually. + +The man smiled: "Grill's down stairs," he announced, pointing to a +marble stairway at the other end of the room. + +"I ain't too late, am I?" asked the boy. + +"Too late! Too late for what?" + +"For supper. It ain't over is it?" + +"The grill is open from eight in the morning until midnight," explained +the man, and as Connie turned away, he called after him: "Oh, Mr. +Morgan----" + +"Connie Morgan," corrected the boy gravely. + +"Well, Connie, then--you are not to pay your checks, just sign them and +the waiter will take care of them." + +"That suits me," smiled Connie, and as he crossed the tiled floor he +muttered: "If they hadn't wasted so much space making the office and +rooms so big, they wouldn't have to eat in the cellar. In Fairbanks or +Skagway they'd have made four rooms out of that one of mine." At the +door of the grill a man in black met him, conducted him through a maze +of small tables at which men and women were eating, and drew out a chair +at a table placed against the wall. Another man in black appeared, +filled a glass with water from a fat bottle, and flipped a large piece +of cardboard in front of him. Connie scanned the printed list with +puckered brow. Way down toward the bottom he found three words he knew, +they were tea, coffee, milk. The man in black was waiting at his side +with a pencil poised above a small pad of paper. "Go ahead, if you want +to write," said the boy, "I won't bother you any--I'm just trying to +figure out what some of these names mean." + +"Waiting for your order, sir." + +"Don't 'sir' me. You mean you're the waiter?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, I'm hungry, suppose you beat it out and bring me my supper." + +"What will it be, sir? I will take your order, sir." + +"Cut out that 'sir,' I told you. If these things they've got down here +stand for grub, you'll just have to bring along the whole mess, and I'll +pick out what I want." + +"Might I suggest, s----" + +"Look here," interrupted the boy, grasping the idea. "If any of these +names stand for ham and eggs, or beefsteak, or potatoes, or bread and +butter, you bring 'em along." + +The man actually smiled, and Connie felt relieved. "Whose place is +that?" he indicated a chair across the table. + +"Not reserved, sir." + +Connie glanced around the room: "You ain't very busy, now. Might as well +bring your own grub along, and if you can ever remember to forget that +'sir' business, we'll get along all right--I'm lonesome." + +When the waiter returned with a tray loaded with good things to eat, +Connie again indicated the empty chair. "Against the rules," whispered +the waiter, remembering to leave off the "sir." + +Connie did justice to the meal and when he had finished, the man cleared +the dishes away and set a plate before him upon which was a small bowl +of water and a folded napkin. "What's that?" asked the boy, "I drink out +of a glass." + +"Finger bowl," whispered the waiter. "Do you wish a dessert?" + +"Might take a chance on a piece of pie," answered the boy, "here take +this along. I washed up-stairs." + +When the waiter presented his check, Connie took the pencil from his +hand, signed it, and passed it back. + +"Very good. One moment, 'til I verify this at the desk." He hurried +away, and returned a moment later. "Very good," he repeated. + +Connie handed him a dollar: "I'm going to be here a week," he said, "I +want three good square meals a day, and it's up to you to see that I get +'em. No more lists of stuff I can't read. No more 'yes sir,' 'no sir,' +'very good sir.'" + +The waiter pocketed the dollar: "Thank you, s--. Very good. Always come +to this table. I will reserve this place for you. You will find your +chair tilted, so. I shall speak to the head waiter." + +Connie went directly to his room and putting on his cap and overcoat, +returned to the lobby and again approached the man at the desk: "What +time does the show start?" he asked. + +"Curtain rises at eight-fifteen." + +"Where is it?" + +"Which one?" + +The boy reached for his envelope and handed the ticket to the clerk. + +"Metropolitan," informed the man, with a glance at the cardboard. +"Marquette, between Third and Fourth." The boy glanced at the clock. It +was a quarter past seven. Hurrying to Nicollet Avenue, he walked +rapidly to the depot and accosted a uniformed official: "Is the +seven-fifty-five for Brainard in yet?" + +"Naw, third gate to yer right, where them folks is waitin'." + +Connie turned up his collar, pulled his cap well down over his eyes, and +strolled to the edge of the knot of people that crowded close about one +of the iron gates. His eyes ran rapidly over each face in the crowd +without encountering the object of his search, so he appropriated an +inconspicuous seat on a nearby bench between a man who was engrossed in +his newspaper, and an old woman who held a large bundle up on her lap, +and whose feet were surrounded with other bundles and bags which she +insisted upon counting every few minutes. Closely the boy scrutinized +each new arrival as he joined the waiting group. Beyond the iron grill +were long strings of lighted coaches to which were coupled engines that +panted eagerly as they awaited the signal that would send them plunging +away into the night with their burden of human freight. + +Other trains drew in, and Connie watched the greetings of relatives and +friends, as they rushed to meet the inpouring stream of passengers. It +seemed to the lonely boy that everybody in the world had someone waiting +to welcome him but himself. He swallowed once or twice, smiled a trifle +bitterly, and resumed his scrutiny of the faces. A man bawled a string +of names, there was a sudden surging of the crowd which rapidly melted +as its members were spewed out into the train shed. A few stragglers +were still hurrying through the gate. The hands of a clock pointed to +seven-fifty-four, and Connie stood up. As he did so, a man catapulted +down the stairs, and rushed for the gate. He was a young man, clothed in +the garb of a woodsman, and as he passed him, Connie recognized the +heavy face of von Kuhlmann. + +"That's just what I've been waiting for," he spoke aloud to himself, +after the manner of those whose lives are cast in the solitudes. The man +glanced up from his newspaper, and the old woman regarded him with a +withering scowl, and gathered her bundles more closely about her feet. + +The play that evening was a musical comedy, and during the entire +performance the boy sat enthralled by the music and the dazzling +costumes. He was still in a daze when he reached his hotel, and once +more stood in his room and gazed out over the city of twinkling lights. +He turned from the window and surveyed his apartment, the thick carpet, +the huge brass bed, the white bath tub in the tiny room adjoining, with +its faucets for hot and cold water, the big mirror that reflected his +image from head to foot--it seemed all of a piece with the play. + +Instantly the boy's imagination leaped the snow-locked miles and he saw +the tiny cabin on Ten Bow, the nights on the snow-trail when he had +curled up in his blankets with the coldly gleaming stars for his roof; +he saw the rough camp on Dogfish and in a flash he was back in the room +once more. "This ain't real _living_," he muttered, once more glancing +about him, "It's--it's like the show--like living in a world of +make-believe." + +Undressing, he drew the white tub nearly full of water. "I'm going to +make it just as hot as I can stand it. Any one can take a bath in cold +water." He wallowed in the tub for a long time, dried himself with a +coarse towel, and rummaging in his new suitcase, produced a pair of pink +pyjamas which had been highly recommended by the clerk at the big store. +Very gingerly he donned the garments and for some moments stood and +viewed himself in the mirror. "Gee," he muttered, "I'm sure glad +Waseche Bill ain't here!" and switching out the light, he dived into +bed. + +[Illustration: VERY GINGERLY HE DONNED THE GARMENTS AND FOR SOME MOMENTS +STOOD AND VIEWED HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR.] + +Promptly at eleven o'clock, one week from the day he arrived in +Minneapolis, Connie Morgan again presented himself at the office of the +Syndicate. That he had been expected was evidenced by the fact that the +girl at the switchboard did not ask him any questions. She greeted him +by name, and touching a button beneath the edge of her desk summoned a +boy who conducted him to Metzger's private office. The lumber magnate +received him with an oily smile: "Promptly on the minute," he approved. +"That's business. Sit here and we will see whether two business men are +able to make their minds meet in a contract that will be profitable to +both." The man placed the points of his fingers together and sighted +across them at Connie. "In the first place," he began, "the quantity of +logs. You are sure you can deliver here at our mills at least eight +million feet?" + +"Yes." + +"Because," continued the man, "owing to the conditions of a contract we +have on hand, any less than eight million feet would be practically of +no value to us whatever. That is, we have concluded to rely entirely +upon your logs to fulfill our big contract, and should you fail us, the +other contract would fail, and we would be at the expense of marketing +the lumber elsewhere." + +"How much more than eight million feet could you use?" asked the boy. + +"As much more as you can deliver. Say, anything up to ten million." + +Connie nodded: "That's all right," he assented, "and the price?" + +"Ah, yes--the price." Metzger frowned thoughtfully. "What would you say +to twenty dollars a thousand?" + +Connie shook his head. "I can get twenty-five anywhere." + +"Well, twenty-five?" + +Again the boy shook his head. "You told me you could pay liberally for +the logs if you could be sure of getting them all in one lot," he +reminded. "I can get twenty-five, anywhere, and by hunting out my market +I can boost it to thirty." + +Metzger's frown deepened. "What is your price?" he asked. + +"Fifty dollars." + +"Fifty dollars!" The man rolled his eyes as if imploring high heaven to +look down upon the extortion. "Ridiculous! Why the highest price ever +paid was forty!" + +"We'll make a new record, then," answered the boy calmly. + +"Forty dollars--if you must have it," offered the man. "Forty dollars or +nothing. And, even at forty, we must insist on inserting a protective +clause in the contract." + +"A protective clause?" + +"Yes, it is this way. If we assume to pay such an outrageous price for +your logs, we must insist upon being protected in case you fail to +deliver. Suppose, for instance, something prevented your delivering the +logs, or part of them at our mills. Say, you could deliver only four or +five million. We could not pay forty dollars for them, because our price +is fixed with the understanding that we are to receive eight million." + +"That's fair enough," answered the boy; "we'll fix that. If we don't +deliver eight million, then you take what we do deliver at twenty +dollars." + +Metzger pondered. "And you will bind yourself to sell to us, and not to +others, if you deliver a short cut?" + +"Sure we will." + +"Well, there is fairness in your offer. We will say, then, that we are +to pay you forty dollars a thousand for any amount between eight and ten +million, and only twenty dollars if you fail to deliver at least eight +million." + +"I said fifty dollars," reminded the boy. + +"And I say we cannot pay fifty! It is unheard of! It is not to be +thought of! It is exorbitant!" + +Connie arose and reached for his cap: "All right," he answered. "The +deal's off." At the door he paused, "I liked your hotel, and the shows," +he said, but Metzger cut him short: + +"The hotel and the shows!" he cried. "Bah! it is nothing! Come back +here. You are an extortionist! You know you have us at your mercy, and +you are gouging us! It is an outrage!" + +"See here, Metzger." The man flinched at the use of his name, shorn of +any respectful _Herr_, or Mister. But he listened. "It's my business +to get as much for those logs as I can get. There is nothing more +to talk about. If you want 'em at fifty dollars, take 'em, if you +don't--good-bye." + +Muttering and grumbling, the man motioned him back to his seat. "We've +got to have the logs," he whined, "but it is a hard bargain you drive. +One does not look for such harshness in the young. I am disappointed. +How would forty-five do?" + +"Fifty." + +"Well, fifty, then!" snapped Metzger, with a great show of anger. "But +look here, if we go up ten dollars on our part, you come down ten +dollars on your part! We will pay fifty dollars a thousand for all logs +between eight and ten million--and ten dollars a thousand for all logs +delivered short of eight million--and you bind yourself to sell us your +entire drive on those terms." + +"That's a deal," answered the boy. "And our crew to work with yours at +the sorting gap. When will you have the papers?" + +"Come back at two," growled the man, shortly. + +When Connie had gone, Metzger touched one of a row of buttons upon his +desk, and von Kuhlmann entered, and standing at military attention, +waited for his superior to speak. + +For a full minute Metzger kept him standing without deigning to notice +him. Then, scribbling for a moment, he extended a paper toward his +subordinate. "Have a contract drawn in conformity with these figures," +he commanded. + +Von Kuhlmann glanced at the paper. "He agreed? As it iss so said here in +America--he bite?" + +Metzger's thin lip writhed in a saturnine grin: "Yes, he bit. I strung +him along, and he has an idea that he is a wonderful business man--to +hold out against me for his price. Ha, little did he know that the top +price interested me not at all! It was the lesser figure that I was +after--and you see what it is, von Kuhlmann--_ten dollars a thousand_!" + +The other made a rapid mental calculation: "On the deal, at five million +feet, we make, at the least, more than three hundred thousand!" + +Metzger nodded: "Yes! That is business!" he glared into von Kuhlmann's +face, "This deal is based on _your_ report. If you have failed us----!" + +Von Kuhlmann shuddered: "I haff not fail. I haff been on Dogfish, and I +haff mit mine eyes seen the logs. I haff talk mit Hurley, the boss. He +iss mit us. Why should he not be mit us? We pay him well for the logs +from which comes the paint off. He haff brand with the dissolving paint +three million feets. Mineself I apply vater _unt_ from the ends, I rub +the paint, in each rollway, here and there, a log." + +Metzger pencilled some figures on a pad. "If you have failed us," he +repeated, "we pay _four hundred thousand_ dollars for eight million +feet. _Four hundred thousand!_ And we lose forty dollars a thousand on +the whole eight million feet. Because we expect to pay this Hurley ten +dollars a thousand for the three million feet branded with the +dissolving paint--and also to pay ten dollars a thousand for the five +million that will be delivered under the contract." The man paused and +brought his fist down on the desk: "Ha, these Americans!" the thin lips +twisted in sneering contempt, "they pride themselves upon their +acumen--upon their business ability. They boast of being a nation of +traders! They have pride of their great country lying helpless as +a babe--a swine contentedly wallowing in its own fat, believing +itself secure in its flimsy sty--little heeding the Butcher, who +watches even as he whets his knife under the swine's very eyes, +waiting--waiting--waiting only for--THE DAY!" At the words both Metzger +and von Kuhlmann clicked their heels and came to a stiff military +salute. Standing Metzger, continued: "Traders--business men--bah! It is +the Germans who are the traders--the business men of the world. Into the +very heart of their country we reach, and they do not know it. Lumber +here, iron there, cotton, wool, railroads, banks--in their own country, +and under protection of their own laws we have reached out our hands and +have taken; until today Germany holds the death-grip upon American +commerce, as some day she will hold the death-grip upon America's very +existence. When the Butcher thrusts the knife the swine dies. And, we, +the supermen--the foremost in trade, in arms, in science, in art, in +thought--we, the Germans, will that day come into our place in the sun!" + +"_Der Tag!_" pronounced von Kuhlmann, reverently, and with another +clicking salute, he retired. + +At two o'clock Connie found himself once more in Metzger's office. The +head of the Syndicate handed him a copy of a typed paper which the boy +read carefully. Then, very carefully he read it again. + +"This seems to cover all the points. It suits me. You made two copies, +did you?" + +Metzger nodded. "And, now we will sign?" he asked, picking up a pen from +the desk, and touching a button. Von Kuhlmann appeared in the doorway. +"Just witness these signatures," said Metzger. + +"If it's just the same to you, I saw Mike Gillum, one of your foremen, +waiting out there; I would rather he witnessed the signing." + +"What's this? What do you mean?" + +"Nothing--only I know Mike Gillum. He's honest. I'd like him to +witness." + +"Send Gillum in!" commanded Metzger, glaring at the boy, and when the +Irishman appeared, he said brusquely. "Witness the signature to a +contract for the sale of some logs." Arranging the papers he signed each +copy with a flourish, and offered the pen to Connie. + +The boy smiled. "Why, I can't sign it," he said. "You see, I'm a minor. +It wouldn't be legal. It wouldn't bind either one of us to anything. If +the deal didn't suit me after the logs were here, I could claim that I +had no right to make the contract, and the courts would uphold me. Or, +if it didn't suit you, you could say 'It is a mere scrap of paper.'" + +Metzger jerked the thick glasses from his nose and glared at the boy. +"What now? You mean you have no authority to make this contract? You +have been jesting? Making a fool of me--taking up my time--living at my +expense--and all for nothing?" + +Connie laughed at the irate magnate: "Oh, no--not so bad as that. I have +the authority to arrange the terms because I am a partner. It is only +the legal part that interferes. Hurley, our walking boss has the power +of attorney signed by my partner, who is not a minor. Hurley is +authorized to sell logs and incur indebtedness for us. I will have to +take those contracts up to our camp and get his signature. Then +everything will be O.K." + +Metzger scowled: "Why did you not have this Hurley here?" + +"What, and leave a couple of hundred men idle in the woods? That would +not be good business, would it? I'll take the contracts and have them +signed and witnessed, and return yours by registered mail within two +days." + +The head of the Syndicate shot a keen sidewise glance at the boy who was +chatting with Mike Gillum, as he selected a heavy envelope, slipped the +two copies of the contract into it, and passed it over. Connie placed +the envelope in an inner pocket and, buttoning his coat tightly, bade +Metzger good-bye, and passed out of the door. + +Alone in the office Metzger frowned at his desk, he drew quick, thin +lined figures upon his blotting pad: "These Americans," he repeated +contemptuously under his breath. "To send a boy to do business with +_me_--a past master of business! The fools! The smug, self-satisfied, +helpless fools--I know not whether to pity or to laugh! And, yet, this +boy has a certain sort of shrewdness. I had relied, in case anything +went wrong with our plan, upon voiding the contract in court. However, +von Kuhlmann is clever. He has been this week on the field. His judgment +is unerring. _He is German!_" + +Late that evening, clad once more in his woodsman's garb, Connie Morgan +sat upon the plush cushion of a railway coach, with his new leather +suitcase at his feet, and smiled at the friendly twinkling lights of the +farm-houses, as his train rushed northward into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE UNMASKING OF SLUE FOOT MAGEE + + +Connie Morgan did not leave the train at Dogfish Spur, but kept on to +the county seat. In the morning he hunted up the sheriff, a bluff +woodsman who, until his election to office, had operated as an +independent stumpage contractor. + +"Did you arrest three I. W. W.'s in Mike Gillum's camp on Willow River a +while back?" he asked, when the sheriff had offered him a chair in his +office in the little court-house. + +"D'you mean those two-legged skunks that tried to brain Hurley when he +was bringin' 'em in fer tryin' to burn out his camp?" + +"Those are the ones." + +"They're here. An' by the time they got here they know'd they hadn't +be'n on no Sunday-school picnic, too. Doc swore out the warrants, an' I +deputized Limber Bill Bradley, an' Blinky Hoy to go an' fetch 'em in. +'Treat 'em kind,' I tells 'em when they started. But, judgin' by looks +when they got 'em out here, they didn't. You see, them boys was brought +up rough. Limber Bill mixed it up with a bear one time, an' killed him +with a four-inch jack-knife, an' Blinky Hoy--they say he eats buzz-saws +fer breakfast. So here they be, an' here they'll stay 'til June court. +They started hollerin' fer a p'liminary hearin', soon as they got here, +but I know'd Hurley was strainin' hisself fer a good showin' this year, +an' wouldn't want to stop an' come down to testify, so I worked a +technicality on 'em to prevent the hearin'." + +"A technicality?" + +"Yeh, I shuck my fist in under their nose an' told 'em if they demanded +a hearing, they'd git it. But it would be helt up in Hurley's camp, an' +Limber Bill, an' Blinky Hoy would chaperoon 'em up, an' provided they +was enough left of 'em to bother with after the hearin' them same two +would fetch 'em back. So they changed their minds about a hearin', and +withdraw'd the demand." + +Connie laughed: "I'm Hurley's clerk, and I just dropped down to tell +you that if those fellows should happen to ask you how you got wind of +where they were hiding, you might tell them that Slue Foot Magee tipped +them off." + +"If they'd happen to ask!" exclaimed the sheriff. "They've b'en tryin' +every which way they know'd how to horn it out of me, ever since they +got out here. What about Slue Foot? I never did trust that bird--never +got nothin' on him--but always livin' in hopes." + +"I happen to know that Slue Foot is an I. W. W., and if these fellows +think he doubled-crossed them, they might loosen up with some +interesting dope, just to even things up. You see, it was Slue Foot who +advised them to go to Willow River." + +"O-ho, so that's it!" grinned the sheriff. "Well, mebbe, now they'll +find that they _kin_ pump me a little after all." + +"And while I'm here I may as well swear out a couple of more warrants, +too. You are a friend of Hurley's, and you want to see him make good." + +"You bet yer life I do! There's a man! He's played in hard luck all his +life, an' if he's got a chanct to make good--I'm for him." + +"Then hold off serving these warrants 'til just before the break-up. +When the thaw comes, you hurry up to Hurley's camp, and nab Slue Foot." +The sheriff nodded, and Connie continued: "First I want him arrested for +conspiring with the Syndicate in the theft of thirty-four thousand +dollars' worth of logs during April and May of last year." + +"With the Syndicate--stealin' logs!" + +"Yes, if it hadn't been for that, Hurley would have made good last +year." + +The sheriff's lips tightened: "If we can only rope in Heinie Metzger! He +ruined me on a dirty deal. I had stumpage contracts with him. Then he +tried to beat me with his money for sheriff, but he found out that John +Grey had more friends in the woods than the Syndicate had. Go on." + +"Then, for conspiring to defraud certain sawyers by shading their cut. +Then, for the theft of three thousand, five hundred dollars from Denny +O'Sullivan. And, last, for conspiracy with the Syndicate to steal some +three million feet of logs this year." + +The sheriff looked at the boy in open-eyed astonishment. "D'you mean you +kin _proove_ all this?" + +"I think so. I can prove the theft of the money, and the shading the +cut--when it comes to the timber stealing, with the Syndicate's money +back of 'em, we'll have a harder time. But I've got the evidence." + +The sheriff grinned: "Well, when Slue Foot let go, he let go all holts, +didn't he? If you've got the evidence to back you up, like you say you +have, Slue Foot'll be usin' a number instead of a name fer the next +lifetime er so." + +Shortly after noon of the tenth day, following his departure from camp, +Connie stepped off the train at Dogfish Spur, to find Frenchy waiting +for him with the tote-team. "Hurley say, 'you go long an' git de kid. +She gon' for com' today--tomor'--sure, an' I ain' wan' heem git all tire +out walkin' in.' Hurley lak you fine an' Saginaw lak you, but Slue Foot, +she roar an' growl w'en you ain' here. Bye-m-bye, Hurley tell heem 'shut +oop de mout', who's runnin' de camp?' an Slue Foot gon' back to Camp Two +mad lak tondaire." + +The trip up was uneventful. Frenchy's "gran' team" was in fine fettle, +and just as the men were filing into the cook's camp for supper, he +swung the team into the clearing with a magnificent whoop and flourish. + +After supper, in the office, Lon Camden began to shuffle his reports, +arranging them day by day for the boy's convenience. Saginaw and Hurley +filled their pipes, and the former, with a vast assumption of +nonchalance, removed his boots and cocked his heels upon the edge of his +bunk. Hurley hitched his chair about until it faced the boy, and for a +space of seconds glared at him through narrowed eyes. + +"Ye made a mistake to come back! Ye dhirty little thayfe! An' me +offerin' to lind ye money!" The blood left Connie's face to rush back to +it in a surge of red, and his lips tightened. "Oh, ye don't nade to +pertind ye're insulted," the huge man's voice trembled with suppressed +rage. "Ye had me fooled. Oi'd of soon caught wan av me own b'ys in a +dhirty game--Oi thought that well av ye. But whin Slue Foot com' ragin' +down whin he heer'd ye'd gon' for a wake er so, Oi misthrusted there was +a rayson, so Oi tuk a luk at th' books, an' ut didn't take me long to +find out yer dhirty cut-shadin' scheme." + +Connie met the glare eye for eye. "Yes," he answered, "it is a dirty +deal, isn't it? I don't blame you fer bein' mad. I was, too, when I +threw in with it--so mad I came near spilling the beans." + +Hurley was staring open mouthed. "Well, av all th' nerve!" he choked out +the words. + +"But I held onto myself," continued the boy, "and now we've got the +goods on Slue Foot--four ways from the jack. You noticed I kept a record +of just how much has been shaved off from each man's cut? If I hadn't +you would never have tumbled to the deal, no matter how long you studied +the books. We are going to return that money to the sawyers who have it +coming--but not yet. We want those false vouchers issued first. By the +way, how much do you figure we've got on the landings, now?" + +"Eight million, seven hundred thousan'--and clost to three hundred +thousan' layin' down. Th' thaw's right now in th' air--'an we're t'rough +cuttin'. Tomorrow all hands wor-rks gittin' the logs to the rollways. +But what's that to ye? An' what d'ye mane settin' there ca'm as a lake +on a shtill noight, an' admittin' ye wuz in on a low-down swindle? An-ny +wan 'ud think ye wuz accused av shwoipin' a doughnut off the cook!" + +"I'll come to that directly," answered the boy. "First, I wish you'd +sign this contract. Saginaw or Lon will witness the signature. And we +can get it into the mail tomorrow." + +"Contrack!" roared Hurley, snatching the paper from the boy's hand. The +boss's eyes ran rapidly over the typewritten page, and with a low +exclamation he moved the chair to the light. For ten minutes there was +tense silence in the little office. Then Hurley looked up. "Fifty +dollars a thousan'!" he gasped. "Fer an-nything from eight to tin +million! Tin dollars a thousan', fer an-nything less nor eight million! +From th' Syndicate!" With a bellow of rage the big boss leaped from his +chair and stood over the boy. "Niver Oi've wanted to paste a man so +bad!" he foamed. "Oi said ye wuz shmar-rt--an' ye ar-re. But ye ain't +shmar-rt enough to put this over on me--ye an' Slue Fut--yer game is +bushted!" He shook the paper under the boy's nose. "Somehow, ye figger +on soide-thrackin' enough av thim logs to turn in less thin eight +million--an the Syndicate gits the cut fer tin dollars a thousan'--an' +ye an' Slue Fut divoides up the price av the logs that's missin'." + +Connie laughed. "You've hit the idea pretty well, boss--only you've got +the wrong boot on the wrong foot." + +"What d'ye mane wid yer boots and futs? Oi see yer game, an' Oi know now +ut it wuz Slue Fut had a hand in the lasht year's loosin'. Wait 'til Oi +git me hands on thot dhirty cur! Wait--" In his wrath the man hurled the +paper to the floor, and reached for his mackinaw with one hand, and his +peavy with the other. + +Lon Camden sat looking on with bulging eyes, and beyond the stove +Saginaw Ed shook with silent mirth as he wriggled his toes in his thick +woollen socks. + +"Hold on, Hurley," said Connie, as he rescued the precious contract from +the floor. "Just sit down a minute and let's get this thing straight. As +soon as the thaw sets in, John Grey will be up to tend to Slue Foot. I +swore out three or four warrants against him, besides what the I. W. +W.'s are going to spill." + +"John Grey--warrants--I. W. W.'s." The man stood as one bewildered. "An' +the kid ca'm as butter, flashin' contracks aroun' th' office, an' ownin' +up he's a thayfe--an' Saginaw a-laughin' to hisself." He passed a rough +hand across his forehead as the peavy crashed to the floor. "Mebbe, +ut's all here," he babbled weakly. "Mebbe thim I. W. W.'s give me wan +crack too many--an' me brain's let go." + +"Your brain's all right," said Connie. "Just sit down and light your +pipe, and forget you're mad, and listen while I explain." + +Hurley sank slowly into his chair: "Sure, jist fergit Oi'm mad. Jist set +by quiet an' let ye ate th' doughnut ye shwoiped off th' cook. Don't say +nawthin' whoilst ye an' Slue Fut an' the Syndicate steals th' whole +outfit. Mebbe if Oi'd take a little nap, ut wid be handier fer yez." The +man's words rolled in ponderous sarcasm. Lon Camden arose and fumbled in +his turkey. A moment later he tendered the boss a small screw-corked +flask. + +"I know it's again' orders in the woods, boss. But I ain't a drinkin' +man--only keep this in case of accident. Mebbe a little nip now would +straighten you out." + +Hurley waved the flask aside: "No, Oi'm off thot stuff fer good! Ut done +me har-rm in me younger days--but ut kin do me no more. Av Oi ain't +going crazy, Oi don't nade ut. Av Oi am, ut's betther to be crazy an' +sober, thin crazy an' drunk. Go on, b'y. Ye was goin' to mention +somethin', Oi believe--an' av me name's Jake Hurley, ut betther be a +chinful. In the first place, what business ye got wid contracks, an' +warrants, an-nyhow?" + +"In the first place," grinned the boy, "I'm a partner of Waseche Bill, +and one of the owners of this outfit. Here are the papers to show it." +While Hurley studied the papers, Connie proceeded: "We got your report, +and then a letter from Mike Gillum saying that you were in the pay of +the Syndicate----" + +Hurley leaped to his feet: "Moike Gillum says Oi wuz in the pay of th' +Syndicate! He's a dhirty----" + +"Yes, yes--I know all about that. Slue Foot is the man who is in the pay +of the Syndicate--and he borrowed your name." Hurley subsided, somewhat, +but his huge fists continued to clench and unclench as the boy talked. +"So I came down to see what the trouble was. It didn't take me long, +after I had been with you for a while, to find out that you are +square as a die--and that Slue Foot is as crooked as the trail of a +snake. I pretended to throw in with him, and he let me in on the +cut-shading--and later on the big steal--the scheme they worked on you +last winter, that turned a twenty-thousand-dollar profit into a +fourteen-thousand-dollar loss. When I got onto his game, I asked for a +leave of absence and went down and closed the deal with the +Syndicate--or rather, I let Heinie Metzger and von Kuhlmann close a deal +with me. I had doped it all out that, if Metzger believed Slue Foot +could prevent the delivery of part of the logs, he'd offer most anything +for the whole eight million, because he knew he would never have to pay +it, providing he could get the figure way down on anything less than +eight million. So I stuck out for fifty dollars a thousand on the eight +million, and he pretended it was just tearing his heart out; at the same +time I let him get me down to ten dollars a thousand on the short +cut--And we don't care how little he offered for that, because _we're +going to deliver the whole cut_!" + +Hurley was staring into the boy's face in open-mouthed incredulity. "An' +ye mane to say, ye wint to Minneapolis an' hunted up Heinie Metzger +hisself, an' let him make a contrack that'll lose him three or foor +hundred thousan' dollars? Heinie Metzger--the shrewdest lumberman +in the wor-rld. Th' man that's busted more good honest min than he +kin count! Th' man that howlds th' big woods in the holler av his +hand! An' ye--a b'y, wid no hair on his face, done thot? Done ut +deliberate--figgered out befoor hand how to make Heinie Metzger bate +hisself--an' thin went down an' _done ut_?" + +Connie laughed: "Sure, I did. Honestly, it was so easy it is a shame to +take the money. Heinie Metzger ain't shrewd--he just thinks he is--and +people have taken him at his own valuation. I told Saginaw the whole +thing, before I went down. Didn't I, Saginaw?" + +"You sure did. But I didn't think they was any such thing as puttin' it +acrost. An' they's a whole lot more yet the kid's did, boss. Fer one +thing, he's got them three I. W. W. 's locked in jail. An'----" + +Hurley waved his arm weakly: "Thot's enough--an' more thin enough fer +wan avenin'. Th' rist Oi'll take in small doses." He struggled into his +mackinaw and reached fer the peavy that lay where it had fallen beside +the stove. + +"Where ye headin', boss?" asked Saginaw. + +"Camp Two. Oi've a little conference to howld with the boss up there." + +Lon Camden removed his pipe and spat accurately and judiciously into the +woodbox. "The kid's right, Hurley," he said. "Let John Grey handle Slue +Foot. All reason says so. If anything should happen to you just before +the drive, where'd the kid's contract be? He's done his part, givin' the +Syndicate the first good wallop it ever got--now it's up to you to do +yourn. If you lay Slue Foot out, when John Grey comes he wouldn't have +no choist but to take you along--so either way, we'd lose out." + +"But," roared Hurley, "s'pose John Grey don't show up befoor the drive? +Thin Slue Fut'll be free to plot an' kape us from deliverin' thim logs." + +"Slue Foot's done!" cried Connie. "He can't hurt us now. You see, the +Syndicate people furnished him with a paint that looks just like the +regular branding paint. When the logs have been in the water a short +time the paint all comes off--And, last year, with you bossing the rear +drive, by the time they got to the mills all the logs they dared to +steal were wearing the green triple X." + +"An' ye mane he's got thot wash-off stuff on them logs now?" + +"On about three million feet of 'em," answered the boy. "All we've got +to do is to sit tight until John Grey comes for Slue Foot, and then put +a crew to work and brand the logs with regular paint and get 'em into +the water." The boy laughed aloud, "And you bet I want to be right at +the sorting gap, when old Heinie Metzger sees the sixth, and seventh, +and eighth, and ninth million come floating along--with the red +block-and-ball bobbing all shiny and wet in the sun! Oh, man! Old +Heinie, with his eyeglasses, and his store clothes!" + +Hurley banged the peavy down upon the wooden floor. "An' ut's proud +Oi'll be to be sthandin' be yer soide whin them logs rolls in. Ut's as +ye say, best to let th' law deal with Slue Foot. Yez nade have no +fear--from now on 'til John Grey sets fut in th' clearin'--fer all an-ny +wan w'd know, me an' Slue Foot could be brother-in-laws." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +CONNIE DELIVERS HIS LOGS + + +The following days were busy ones in the two camps in Dogfish. Connie +worked day and night to catch up on his books, and while Saginaw +superintended the building of the huge bateau, and the smoothing out of +the rollways, Hurley and Slue Foot kept the rest of the crew at work +hauling logs to the landings. Spring came on with a rush, and the fast +softening snow made it necessary for the hauling to be done at night. +The thud of axes, the whine of saws, and the long crash of falling +trees, was heard no more in the camps, while all night long the woods +resounded to the calls of teamsters and swampers, as huge loads of logs +were added to the millions of feet already on the rollways. + +Then came a night when the thermometer failed to drop to the freezing +point. The sky hung heavy with a thick grey blanket of clouds, a steady +drenching rain set in, and the loggers knew that so far as the woods +were concerned, their work was done. Only a few logs remained to be +hauled, and Hurley ordered these peeled and snaked to the skidways to +await the next season. + +The men sang and danced in the bunkhouse that night to the wheeze of an +accordion and the screech of an old fiddle. They crowded the few +belongings which they would take out of the woods with them into +ridiculously small compass, and talked joyfully and boisterously of the +drive--for, of all the work of the woods it is the drive men most love. +And of all work men find to do, the log drive on a swollen, quick-water +river is the most dangerous, the most gruelling, and the most torturing, +when for days and nights on end, following along rough shores, fighting +underbrush, rocks, and backwater, clothing half torn from their bodies, +and the remnants that remain wet to their skin, sleeping in cat-naps +upon the wet ground, eating out of their hands as they follow the logs, +cheating death by a hair as they leap from log to log, or swarm out to +break a jam--of all work, the most gruelling, yet of all work the most +loved by the white-water birlers of the north. + +Next morning water was flowing on top of the ice on Dogfish, and the big +bateau was man-hauled to the bank and loaded with supplies and a +portable stove. Strong lines were loaded into her, and extra axes, +pickpoles, and peavys, and then, holding themselves ready to man the +river at a moment's notice, the crew waited. + +And that morning, also appeared John Grey, worn out and wet to the +middle by his all night's battle with the deep, saturated slush of the +tote road. He had started from Dogfish with a horse and a side-bar +buggy, but after a few miles, he had given up the attempt to drive +through, and had unharnessed the horse and turned it loose to find its +way back, while he pushed on on foot. After a prodigious meal, the +sheriff turned in and slept until noon. When he awoke, his eyes rested +for a moment on Connie, and he turned to Hurley: "Quite some of a clerk +you got holt of, this season, Jake," he said, with a twinkle in his eye. + +"Yeh," replied Hurley, drily. "He's done fairly good--for a greener. I +mistrusted, after he'd be'n in here a spell, that he wasn't just a +pick-up of a kid--but, I didn't hardly think he'd turn out to be the +owner." + +"Owner?" + +"Yup. Him an' his pardner owns this timber, an' the kid come down to +find out what the trouble was----" + +"Y'ain't tellin' me a kid like him----" + +"Yup--they come that way--up in Alasky. He's put in a year with the +Canady Mounted, too. I ain't a-braggin' him up none, but I'm right here +to tell you that what that there kid don't know ain't in the books--an' +he kin put over things that makes the smartest men me an' you ever +heer'd of look like pikers." + +John Grey smiled, and the boss continued: "Oh, you needn't laff! Old +Heinie Metzger busted _you_, didn't he? An' he busted a-many another +good man. But this here kid slipped down an' put a contrack over on him +that'll cost him between three an' four hundred thousand dollars of his +heart's blood. The contrack is all signed and delivered, an' when +Dogfish lets go tonight or tomorrow, the logs'll start." + +"Where is Slue Foot?" asked the sheriff, after listening to Hurley's +explanation. + +"Up to Camp Two, we'll be goin' up there now. Me an' you an' the kid +an' Lon'll go long. An' a crew of men with paint buckets and brushes. +Saginaw, he'll have to stay here to boss the breakin' out of the +rollways, in case she let's go before we git back." + +At the edge of Camp Two's clearing Hurley called a halt: "We'll wait +here 'til the kid gits Slue Foot's signature to them vouchers. When ye +git 'em kid, open the door an' spit out into the snow--then we'll come." + +"I'll just keep out these," grinned Slue Foot, as he selected the false +vouchers from the sheaf of good ones, "so them birds don't git no chanct +to double-cross me. You've done yer part first rate, kid. There's a +little better than three million feet on the rollways that'll be wearin' +the green triple X again they hit the sortin' gap. Von Kuhlmann was up +here hisself to make sure, an' they's goin' to be a bunch of coin in it +fer us--because he says how the owner is down to Minneapolis an' +contracted fer the whole cut, an' old Heinie Metzger made a contrack +that'll bust this here Alasky gent. He'll be so sick of the timber game, +he'll run every time he hears the word log spoke. An' Hurley--he's broke +fer good an' all. I be'n layin' to git him good--an' I done it, an' at +the same time, I made a stake fer myself." + +Connie nodded, and opening the door, spat into the snow. A moment later +there was a scraping of feet. The door opened, and John Grey, closely +followed by Hurley and Lon Camden, entered the office. + +"Hullo, John," greeted Slue Foot. "Huntin' someone, er be ye up here +tryin' to git some pointers on how to make money loggin'?" + +The sheriff flushed angrily at the taunt: "A little of both, I guess," +he answered evenly. + +"Who you huntin'?" + +"You." + +"Me! What d'you want of me? What I be'n doin'?" + +"Oh, nothin' to speak of. Countin' the four warrants the kid, here, +swore out, I only got nine agin ye--the other five is on information +swore to by yer three friends down in jail." + +With a roar of hate, Slue Foot sprang straight at Connie, but Hurley who +had been expecting just such a move, met him half way--met his face with +a huge fist that had behind it all the venom of the big boss's pent-up +wrath. Slue Foot crashed into a corner, and when he regained his feet +two steel bracelets coupled with a chain encircled his wrists. The man +glared in sullen defiance while the sheriff read the warrants arising +out of the information of the three I. W. W.'s. But when he came to the +warrants Connie had sworn out, the man flew into a fury of impotent +rage--a fury that gradually subsided as the enormity of the offences +dawned on him and he sank cowering into a chair, wincing visibly as he +listened to the fateful words. "So you see," concluded the sheriff, "the +State of Minnesota is mighty interested in you, Slue Foot, so much +interested that I shouldn't wonder if it would decide to pay yer board +and lodgin' fer the rest of yer natural life." + +"If I go over the road there'll be others that goes too. There's them in +Minneapolis that holds their nose pretty high that's into this as deep +as me. An' if I kin knock a few years offen my own time, by turnin' +State's evidence, yer kin bet yer life I'll spill a mouthful." Suddenly +he turned on Connie: "An' you," he screamed, "you dirty little +double-crosser! What be you gittin' out of this?" + +"Well," answered the boy, "as soon as the crew out there on the rollways +get the red block-and-ball in good honest paint on the ends of those +logs, I'll get quite a lot out of it. You see I own the timber." + +[Illustration: HURLEY HAD REMAINED AT THE UPPER CAMP, AND AS THE DRIVE +AT LAST BEGAN TO THIN OUT, HE CAME FLOATING DOWN, STANDING ERECT UPON A +HUGE LOG.] + +Just at daylight the following morning the Dogfish River burst its +prison of ice and "let go" with a rush and a grind of broken cakes; +breakfast was bolted, and the men of the drive swarmed to the bank where +they stood by to break-out the rollways as soon as the logs from the +upper Camp began to thin out. Connie stood beside the big bateau with +the cook and John Grey and watched Camp Two's drive rush past--a +floating floor of logs that spanned the river from bank to bank. Hurley +had remained at the upper Camp and as the drive at last began to thin +out, he came floating down, standing erect upon a huge log. When +opposite the camp the big boss leaped nimbly from log to log until he +reached the bank, where Saginaw stood ready to order out the breaking +out of the first rollway. Many of the men of the upper drive had passed, +riding as Hurley had done upon logs--others straggled along the shore, +watching to see that no trouble started at the bends, and still others +formed the rear drive whose business it was to keep the stranded logs +and the jill-pokes moving. + +So busy were all hands watching the logs that nobody noticed the +manacled Slue Foot crawl stealthily from the bateau and slip to the +river's brink. A big log nosed into shore and the former boss of Camp +Two leaped onto it, his weight sending it out into the current. The plan +might have worked, for the next bend would have thrown Slue Foot's log +to the opposite bank of the river before any one could possibly have +interfered, but luck willed otherwise, for the moment the unfortunate +Slue Foot chose as the moment of his escape was the same moment Saginaw +Ed gave the word for the breaking-out of the first rollway. There was a +sharp order, a few well-directed blows of axes, a loud snapping of +toggle-pins, and with a mighty roar the towering pile of logs shot down +the steep bank and took the river with a splash that sent a wave of +water before it. + +Then it was that the horrified spectators saw Slue Foot, his log caught +in the wave, frantically endeavouring to control, with his calked boots, +its roll and pitch. For a moment it seemed as if he might succeed, but +the second rollway let go and hurtled after the first, and then the +third, and the fourth--rolling over each other, forcing the tumbling, +heaving, forefront farther and farther into the stream, and nearer and +nearer to Slue Foot's wildly pitching log. By this time word had passed +to the men at the rollways and the fifth was held, but too late to save +Slue Foot, for a moment later the great brown mass of rolling tumbling +logs reached him, and before the eyes of the whole crew, the boss of +Camp Two disappeared for ever, and the great brown mass rolled on. + +"Mebbe ut's best," said Hurley, as with a shudder he turned away, "'tis +a man's way to die--in the river--an' if they's an-ny wan waitin' fer +him um back there, they'll think he died loike a man." In the next +breath he bellowed an order and the work of the rollways went on. + +It was at the first of his cleverly planned obstructions that Hurley +overtook the head of the drive, and it was there that he encountered +Long Leaf Olson and the men of the Syndicate crew. + +Long Leaf was ranting and roaring up and down the bank, vainly ordering +his men to break the jam, and calling malediction upon the logs, the +crew, river, and every foot of land its water lapped. Hurley had ordered +Saginaw to the rear drive, promising to hold the waters back with his +jams, and now he approached the irate Long Leaf, a sack of dynamite over +his shoulder and a hundred picked men of his two crews at his back. + +"Call yer men off thim logs!" he bellowed, "Thim's my logs on the head +end, an' I want 'em where they're at." + +"Go on back to the rear end where you belong!" screeched Long Leaf; +"I'll learn you to git fresh with a Syndicate drive! Who d'you think you +be, anyhow?" + +"Oi'll show ye who I be, ye Skanjehoovyan Swade! An' Oi'll show ye who's +runnin' this drive! Oi'm bossin' th' head ind mesilf an' Saginaw Ed's +bossin' the rear, an' av ye've fouled our drive, ye'll play the game our +way! What do Oi care fer yer Syndicate? Ye ain't boss of nawthin' on +this river this year--ye' ain't aven boss of the bend-watchers!" + +Long Leaf, who's river supremacy had heretofore been undisputed, for the +simple reason that no outfit had dared to incur the wrath of the +Syndicate, stared at the huge Irishman in astonishment. Then placing his +fingers to his lips he gave a peculiar whistle, and instantly men +swarmed from the jam, and others appeared as if by magic from the woods. +In a close-packed mob, they centred about their boss. "Go git 'em!" +roared Long Leaf, beside himself with rage. "Chase the tooth-pickers off +the river!" + +"Aye, come on!" cried Hurley. "Come on yez spalpeens! Come on, chase us +off th' river--an' whoilst yer chasin' ye bether sind wan av ye down to +Owld Heinie fer to ship up a big bunch av long black boxes wid shiney +handles, er they'll be a whole lot of lumberjacks that won't go out av +the woods at all, this spring!" + +As the men listened to the challenge they gazed uneasily toward the crew +at Hurley's back. One hundred strong they stood and each man that did +not carry an axe or a peavy, had thoughtfully provided himself with a +serviceable peeled club of about the thickness of his wrist. + +"Git at 'em!" roared Long Leaf, jumping up and down in his tracks. But +the men hesitated, moved forward a few steps, and stopped. + +"They hain't nawthin' in my contrack calls fer gittin' a cracked bean," +said one, loud enough to be heard by the others. "Ner mine," "ner mine," +"ner mine." "Let old Metzger fight his own battles, he ain't never done +nawthin' to me but skinned me on the wanagan." "What would we git if we +did risk our head?" "Probably git docked fer the time we put in +fightin'." Rapidly the mutiny spread, each man taking his cue from the +utterance of his neighbour, and a few minutes later they all retired, +threw themselves upon the wet ground, and left Long Leaf to face Hurley +alone. + +"Git out av me road," cried the big Irishman, "befoor Oi put a shtick av +giant in under ye an' blow ye out!" Long Leaf backed away and, +proceeding to a point opposite the jam, Hurley seated himself upon a +log, and calmly filled his pipe. + +"If you think you're bossin' this drive, why in tarnation ain't you +busted this jam," growled Long Leaf, as he came up a few minutes later. + +"They ain't no hurry, me b'y, not a bit of a hurry. They'll be another +wan just a moile above th' mouth. Ut's a way good river-min has got to +let the rear drive ketch up." + +"You wait 'til Metzger hears of this!" fumed Long Leaf. + +Hurley laughed: "Oi'll be there at th' tellin'. An' you wait 'til +Metzger sees eight er noine million feet av my logs slidin' t'rough his +sortin' gap--an' him havin' to pay fifty dollars a thousand fer um. D'ye +think he'll doie av a stroke, er will he blow up?" + +"What do you mean--eight million--fifty dollars----" + +Hurley laughed tantalizingly: "Wait an' see. 'Twill be worth th' proice +av admission." And not another word could Long Leaf get out of him. + +During the previous summer Hurley had studied his ground well. For +several miles above the jam the river flowed between high banks, and it +was that fact that made his scheme practicable, for had the land +extended back from the river in wide flats or meadows, the backwater +from the jam would have scattered his drive far and wide over the +country. It was mid-afternoon when the rear-drive crew came up and then +it was that Hurley, bearing a bundle of yellow cylinders, crept out +along the face of the jam. A quarter of an hour later he came crawling +back and joined the men who watched from the edge of the timber. Five +minutes passed and the silence of the woods was shattered by a dull +boom. The whole mass of logs that had lain, heaped like jack-straws in +the bed of the river, seemed to lift bodily. A few logs in the forefront +were hurled into the air to fall with a noisy splash into the river, or +with a crash upon the trembling mass that settled slowly into the stream +again. For an instant the bristling wall quivered uncertainly, moved +slowly forward, hesitated, and then with a roar, the centre shot +forward, the sides tumbled in upon the logs that rushed through from +behind, and the great drive moved. + +The breaking of the second jam was a repetition of the first, and when +the drive hit the big river there were left on the bars and rock-ledges +of the Dogfish only a few stragglers that later could be dry-rolled by a +small crew into the stream and rafted down. + +The crew worked indefatigably. Lumbermen said it was as pretty a drive +as ever took water. In the cook's bateau Connie and Steve worked like +Trojans to serve the men with hot coffee and handouts that were kept on +tap every minute of the day and night. + +At the various dams along the great river the boy never tired of +standing beside Hurley and watching the logs sluiced through, and at +last, with Anoka behind them, it was with a wildly beating heart that he +stepped into a skiff and took his place in the stern beside Hurley, +while the brawny men of the sorting crew worked their way to the front +of the drive. + +As the black smudge that hovered over the city of mills deepened, the +boy gazed behind him at the river of logs--his logs, for the most part; +a mighty pride of achievement welled up within him--the just pride of a +winter's work well done. + +News of the drive had evidently preceded them, for when the skiff +reached the landing of the Syndicate's sorting gap, the first persons +the boy saw, standing at the end of the platform, apart from the men of +the sorting crew, were Metzger and von Kuhlmann. + +The former greeting Connie with his oily smile. "Ah, here we have the +youthful financier, himself," he purred. "He has accompanied his logs +all the way down the river, counting them and putting them to bed each +night, like the good mother looks after the children. I am prepared to +believe that he has even named each log." + +"That's right," answered the boy evenly. "The first log to come through +is named Heinie, and the last log is named Connie--and between the two +of them there are four hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of +assorted ones--you're going to pay for them--so I left the naming to +you." + +Metzger shot him a keen glance: "How many logs have you brought down?" + +"About nine million feet of mine, and about three million and a half of +yours--from your Dogfish Camp--at least that's what we estimated when we +sluiced through at Anoka." + +Von Kuhlmann had turned white as paper: "Where's Hurley?" he asked in a +shaky voice. + +[Illustration: CONNIE PLACED HIS HAND AFFECTIONATELY UPON THE ARM OF THE +BIG BOSS WHO STOOD AT HIS SIDE GRINNING BROADLY.] + +Connie placed his hand affectionately upon the arm of the big boss who +stood at his side grinning broadly: "This is Jake Hurley--my foreman," +he announced, and then to the boss: "The old one is Heinie Metzger, and +the shaky one's von Kuhlmann." + +"But," faltered von Kuhlmann--"there iss some mistake! Hurley I haff +seen--I know him. I say he iss not Hurley! There iss a mistake!" + +"Yes, there's a mistake all right--and you made it," laughed the boy. +"And it's a mistake that cost your boss, there, dearly. The man you +have been dealing with was not Hurley at all. He passed himself off for +Hurley, and last year he got away with it. Your game is up--you crooks! +The three million feet that Slue Foot Magee, alias Hurley, branded with +your disappearing paint, have all been repainted with good, honest, +waterproof paint--and, _here they come!_" As the boy spoke, a log +scraped along the sheer-boom, and for a moment all eyes rested upon the +red block-and-ball, then instantly lifted to the thousands of logs that +followed it. + +Several days later when the boom scale had been verified, Connie again +presented himself at the office of the Syndicate and was shown +immediately to Metzger's private room. The magnate received him with +deference, even placing a chair for him with his own hands. "I hardly +know how to begin, _Herr_ Morgan----" + +"_Connie Morgan_," snapped the boy. "And as far as I can see you can +begin by dating a check for four hundred and forty-eight thousand, three +hundred and twenty dollars--and then you can finish by signing it, and +handing it over." + +"But, my dear young man, the price is exorbitant--my stockholders in +Germany--they will not understand. It will be my ruin." + +"Why did you agree to it then? Why did you sign the contract?" + +"Ah, you do not understand! Allow me----" + +"I understand this much," said Connie, his eyes flickering with wrath, +"that you'd have held me to my bargain and taken my logs for ten dollars +a thousand, and ruined me, if I hadn't been wise to your dirty game." + +"Ah, no! We should have adjusted--should have compromised. I would +have been unwilling to see you lose! And yet, you would see me +lose--everything--my position--my friends in Germany--surely your heart +is not so hard. There should be fellowship among lumbermen----" + +"Is that the reason you ruined John Grey, and Lige Britton, and Lafe +Weston, and poor old Jim Buck? Every one of them as square a man as ever +lived--and every one of them an independent logger, 'til you ruined +them! What did you answer when they sat right in this office and begged +for a little more time--a little more credit--a little waiver of toll +here and there? Answer me that! You bloodsucking weasel!" The cowardly +whine of the beaten German made the boy furious. He was upon his feet, +now, pounding the desk with his fist. + +A crafty gleam shot from Metzger's eyes, and abruptly he changed his +tactics: "Let us not abuse each other. It is probable we can come to an +agreement. You are smart. Come in with us. I can use you--in von +Kuhlmann's place. I paid von Kuhlmann eighteen-hundred a year. Make a +concession to me on the contract and I will employ you with a ten year +contract, at ten thousand a year. We are a big corporation; we will +crush out the little ones! I can even offer you stock. We will tighten +our grip on the timber. We will show these Americans----" + +"Yes," answered the boy, his voice trembling with fury, "we'll show +these Americans--we'll show 'em what _fools_ they are to allow a lot of +wolves from across the water to come over here and grab off the best +we've got. I'm an American! And I'm proud of it! And what's more, I'll +give you just five minutes to write that check, Metzger, and if it isn't +in my hands when the time's up, I'll get out an attachment that'll tie +up every dollar's worth of property you own in the State, from the mills +to your farthest camp. I'll tie up your logs on the rollways--and by the +time you get the thing untangled you won't have water enough to get +them to the river. You've got three minutes and a half left." + +Slowly, with shaking fingers, Metzger drew the check, and without a +word, passed it over to Connie, who studied it minutely, and then thrust +it into his pocket. At the door he turned and looked back at Metzger who +had sloughed low in his chair. + +"If you'd listened to those other men--John Grey and the others you've +busted, when they were asking for favours that meant nothing to you, but +meant ruin to them if you withheld them--if you'd played the game square +and decent--you wouldn't be busted now. And, when you get back to +Germany, you might tell your friends over there that unless they change +their tactics, someday, something is going to happen that will wake +America up! And if you're a fair specimen of your kind, when America +does wake up, it will be good-bye Germany!" And as the door slammed upon +the boy's heels, Metzger for a reason unaccountable to himself +shuddered. + + +THE END + + + + +Connie Morgan with the Mounted + +By + +James B. Hendryx + +Author of "Connie Morgan in Alaska" + +_Illustrated._ + + +It tells how "Sam Morgan's Boy," well known to readers of Mr. Hendryx's +"Connie Morgan in Alaska," daringly rescued a man who was rushing +to destruction on an ice floe and how, in recognition of his +quick-wittedness and nerve, he was made a Special Constable in the +Northwest Mounted Police, with the exceptional adventures that fell to +his lot in that perilous service. It is a story of the northern +wilderness, clean and bracing as the vigorous, untainted winds that +sweep over that region; the story of a boy who wins out against the +craft of Indians and the guile of the bad white man of the North; the +story of a boy who succeeds where men fail. + + + + +Connie Morgan in Alaska + +By + +James B. Hendryx + +Author of "The Promise," "The Law of the Woods," etc. + +_12°. Over twenty illustrations_ + + +Mr. Hendryx, as he has ably demonstrated in his many well-known tales, +knows his Northland thoroughly, but he has achieved a reputation as a +writer possibly "too strong" for the younger literary digestion. It is a +delight, therefore, to find that he can present properly, in a capital +story of a boy, full of action and adventure, and one in whom boys +delight, the same thorough knowledge of people and customs of the North. + + + + +The Quest of the Golden Valley + +By + +Belmore Browne + +Author of "The Conquest of Mount McKinley" + +_12°. Eight full-page illustrations_ + + +The story of a search for treasure which lies guarded by the fastnesses +of nature in the ragged interior of Alaska. The penetration of these +wilds by the boys who are the heroes of the story is a thrilling +narrative of adventure, and with every step of the journey the lore of +the open is learned. The reader follows them through the mountains +wreathed in misty enchantment, over swollen rivers, into inviting +valleys, until the great discovery of gold is made, and then the +adventure does not close but may be said to reach its height, for a wily +good-for-nothing, who, under false pretenses, has inveigled in his +scheme some men innocent of wicked intent, attempts to steal the prize, +and there follows a race of days through the northland, involving +innumerable dangers and culminating in a splendid rescue. + + + + +The White Blanket + +By + +Belmore Brown + +Author of "The Quest of the Golden Valley," etc. + +_12°. Illustrated_ + + +A sequel to _The Quest of the Golden Valley_, this time taking the chums +through the vicissitudes of an Alaskan winter. They trap the many +fur-bearing animals, hunt the big game, camp with the Indians, do +dog-driving, snow-shoeing, etc. With the coming of spring they descend +one of the wilderness rivers on a raft and at the eleventh hour, after +being wrecked in a dangerous canyon, they discover a fabulous quartz +lode, and succeed in reaching the sea coast. + + + G. P. Putnam's Sons + New York London + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. + +Simple typographical errors were corrected. + +Illustrations have been moved closer to the relevant text. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Connie Morgan in the Lumber Camps, by +James B. Hendryx + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41712 *** |