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Title: The Challenge of the North

Author: James Hendryx

Release Date: May 10, 2006 [EBook#18366]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECTGUTENBERG EBOOK THECHALLENGE OF THE NORTH ***

Produced by Al Haines

THECHALLENGE OFTHE NORTH

BY

JAMES HENDRYX

GARDEN CITY————- NEWYORKDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

1922

COPYRIGHT, 1922,BYDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,INCLUDING THAT OFTRANSLATION INTOFOREIGN LANGUAGES,INCLUDING THESCANDINAVIAN

PRINTED IN THE UNITEDSTATES

AT

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDENCITY, N. Y.

First Edition

The Challenge of the North

I

Oskar Hedin, head of the fur department of

old John McNabb's big store, looked upfrom his scrutiny of the Russian sable coatspread upon a table before him, andencountered the twinkling eyes of old Johnhimself.

"It's a shame to keep this coat here—andthat natural black fox piece, too. Who isthere in Terrace City that's got thirtythousand dollars to spend for a fur coat, ortwenty thousand for a fox fur?"

Old John grinned. "Mrs. Orcutt boughtone, didn't she?"

"Yes, but she bought it down in New York——"

"An' paid thirty-five thousand for a coat

that runs half a dozen shades lighter, an' istopped an' pointed to bring it up to the bestit's got. Did I ever tell ye the story of Mrs.Orcutt's coat?"

"No."

"It goes back quite a ways—the left-handed love me an' Fred Orcutt has forone another. We speak neighborly on thestreet, an' for years we've played onopposite sides of a ball-a-hole foursomeat the Country Club, but either of us wouldsooner lose a hundred dollars than pay theother a golf ball.

"It come about in a business way, an' in abusiness way it's kept on.Not a dollar of McNabb money passes

through the hands of Orcutt'sWolverine Bank—an' he could have had itall, an' he knows it.

"As ye know, I started out, a lad, with theHudson's Bay Company, an' I'd got to be afactor when an old uncle of my mother's inScotlan' died an' left me a matter of twentythousand pounds sterling. When I got themoney I quit the Company an' driftedaround a bit until finally I bought up a bigtract of Michigan pine. There wasn't anyTerrace City then. I located a sawmillhere at the mouth of the river an' it wasknown as McNabb's Landin'.

"D'ye see those docks? I built 'em, an' I'veseen the time when they was two steamerswarped along each side of 'em, an' one

acrost the end, an' a half a dozen moreanchored in the harbor waitin' to haulMcNabb's lumber. The van stood on thisspot in the sawmill days, an' when it gottoo small I built a wooden store. Folksbegan driftin' in. They changed the namefrom McNabb's Landin' to Terrace City,an' I turned a many a good dollar forbuildin' sites.

"The second summer brought Fred Orcutt,an' I practically give him the best lot of thewhole outfit to build his bank on. Thetown outgrew the wooden store an' I builtthis one, addin' the annex later, an' Iripped out the old dam an' put in aconcrete dam an' a power plant thatfurnished light an' power for all TerraceCity. Money was comin' in fast an' I

invested it here an' there—Michigan, an'Minnesota, an' Winconsin pine, an' theLord knows what not. Then come thepanic, an' I found out almost over nightthat I was land poor. I needed cash, orcredit at the bank, or I had to take a bigloss. I went to see Fred Orcutt—I bankedwith him, those days, an' he knew the fix Iwas in. Yes, the bank would be glad toaccommodate me all right; if you could ofbeen there an' heard Fred Orcutt lay downhis terms you'd know just how damn gladthey'd of been to accommodate me. It kindof stunned me at first, an' then I saw red—the man I'd befriended in more ways thanone, just layin' back till he had me in hisclutches! Well, I lit out an' told him justwhat I thought of him—an' he got it in logcamp English. It never fazed him. He just

sat there leanin' back in his chair, bringin'the points of his fingers together an'drawin' 'em apart again, an' lookin' mesquare in the face with them pale bluefishy eyes of his. When I'd used up all theoaths an' epithets in common use, an' somenew ones, an' had to quit, he says, in thesame cold, even voice that he'd used inlayin' down his terms, he says, 'You're alittle excited now, John, and I'll not hold itagainst you. Just drop in sometime to-morrow or next day and we'll fix up thepapers.'"

"I walked out of the bank with a wildscheme in my head of going to Detroit orChicago for the money. But I knew it wasno use—and so did Orcutt. He thought hehad me right where he wanted me—an' so

did I. Meanwhile, an' about six monthsprevious, a young fellow named CharlieBronson—president of the First Nationalnow—had opened up a little seven-by-nine bank in a tin-covered wooden shackthat I'd passed a dozen times a day an'hadn't even looked into. I'd met Bronsononce or twice, but hadn't paid no attentionto him, an' as I was headin' back for thestore, he stood in his doorway. 'Goodmornin' Mr. McNabb,' he says. I don'tthink I'd of took the trouble to answer him,but just then his bank sign caught my eye.It was painted in black letters an' stuck outover the sidewalk. I stopped an' lookedpast him through the open door where hisbookkeeper-payin'-an'-receivin'-teller-cashier, an' general factotum was busybehind the cheap grill. Then I looked at

Bronson an' the only thing I noticed wasthat his eyes was brown, an' he wassmilin'. 'Young man,' I says, 'have you gotany money in that sardine can?'

"'Quite a lot,' he answers with a grin.'More than I wish I had.'

"'You got a hundred thousand?' I asks—itwas more than I needed, but I thought I'dmake it big enough to scare him.

"'More than that,' he answers, withoutbattin' an eye. 'But—what's the matter withthe Wolverine?'

"'The Wolverine?' I busted out. 'Youngman, if I was to tell you what I think of theWolverine here on the street, I'd be

arrested before I'd got good an' started.'

"'Better come inside, then,' he grins, an' Ifollowed him into a little box of a privateoffice. 'Of course,' I says later, when I'dtold him what I wanted, 'most of mycollateral is pine timber, an' I suppose, asOrcutt says, it's depreciated——'

"'Depreciated?' he asks. 'Why has itdepreciated? It's all standin' on end, ain'tit?' he says. An' it ain't gettin' no smaller,is it? An' they're layin' down the pine adamn sight faster than God Almighty cangrow it, ain't they?' An' when I admittedthat such was the facts, he laughed. 'Wellthen, we'll just go over your reports an'estimates, an' I don't think we'll have anytrouble about doin' business.'

"An we never have had no trouble, an'we've been doin' business every daysince."

"But the coat?" reminded Hedin, after aninterval of several minutes.

"I'm coming to that. Orcutt ain't human, buthis wife is. When he found out I'd slippedout of his clutches an' swung all mybusiness over to Bronson's bank he neverby so much as a word or a look let on thathe even noticed it. They still have anaccount at the store; they can't help it,because no other store in Terrace Citykeeps the stock we do. But Mrs. Orcuttdoes all her real shoppin' in New York orChicago."

IIOskar Hedin loved fur, and the romance offur. From his earliest recollection he hadloved it as he had curled up and listenedto the stories of his father, a greatupstanding Viking of a sailor man, whoyear after year had forced his little vesselinto the far North where he traded with thenatives, and who had lost his life in theice floes of the frozen sea while sailingwith Nordenskjold.

Furs were to Hedin an obsession; theyspoke a language he knew. He hated thegrosser furs, as he loved the finer. Hedespised the trade tricks and spurious

trade names by which the flimsiest of fursare foisted upon the gullible purchasers of"seal," "sable," "black fox," "ermine," and"beaver." He prided himself that nomisnamed fur had ever passed over hiscounter, and in this he was backed up byhis employer. The cheaper furs werethere, but they sold under their true namesand upon their merits.

In the social democracy of the town oftwenty thousand people Oskar Hedin hadearned a definite place. After graduatingfrom the local high school he had enteredthe employ of McNabb, and within a veryfew years had been promoted to head hisdepartment. At the Country Club he couldbe depended upon to qualify with the firstflight in the annual golf tournament, and

the "dope" was all upset when he did notplay in the finals on the courts. He lived atthe city's only "family hotel," drove hisown modest car, and religiously spent hisSundays on the trout streams.

Hedin picked up the coat and reverentlydeposited it in the fur safe. "It's a coat fitfor a queen," he decided as he closed andlocked the door. And Jean was the onewoman in the world to wear it. Jean withthe red blood coursing through her veins,her glow of health, and the sparkle of hereyes—McNabb's own daughter. "And, yet,I can't suggest it because—" Hedinmuttered aloud and scowled at the floor."I'd have asked her before this," he wenton, "if that Wentworth hadn't butted in.Who knows anything about him, anyway?

I'll ask her this afternoon." He stoppedabruptly and smiled into the eyes of thegirl who was hurrying toward him downthe aisle.

"Oh, Oskar, I've just got a minute. Istopped in to remind you that this isSaturday, and we're going tobogganingthis afternoon, and I've asked Mr.Wentworth and some of the crowd, andthere'll be four or five toboggans, and itwill be no end jolly. And this is mybirthday, and you're a dear to think of itand send me all those flowers, and I'mgoing to wear 'em to-night. Listen, ElsieCampbell is giving a dinner for me thisevening and of course you're not invitedbecause it's just too funny the way she hassnubbed you lately, and there's a show in

town and after dinner we're going. Ofcourse it won't be any good, but she'smaking a theatre party of it, and it soundsgrand anyway. And I must hurry alongnow because I must remind Dad that hepromised me a fur coat the day I wastwenty-one, and I'll be back after a whileand you can help me pick it out. Good-by,see you later!" And she was gone, leavingHedin gazing after her with a smile as hestrove to digest the jumble of uncorrelatedinformation of which she had unburdenedherself. "Wentworth, and some of thecrowd! Oh, it will be jolly, all right—damn Wentworth!"

Old John McNabb looked up from hispapers as his daughter burst into hisprivate office and, rushing to his side,

planted a kiss squarely upon the top of hisbald head. "I came in to tell you I'mtwenty-one to-day," she announced.

"Well, well, so ye are! Ye come into theworld on the first of March, true to the oldsayin', an' ye've be'n boisterous eversince. Twenty-one years old, an' tell menow, what have ye ever accomplished?When I was your age I'd be'n livin' in thebush north of 60 for two years, an' coulddo my fifty miles on snowshoes an' carry apack."

"Maybe I can't do fifty miles a day onsnowshoes, and I'm sure it isn't my fault Idon't live north of 60. But I'm in a hurry; Ipromised to help Mr. Wentworth pick outa toboggan cap. I stopped in to remind you

that you promised me a fur coat on mytwenty-first birthday."

The old man regarded her thoughtfully."So I did, so I did," he repeated absently."This Wentworth, now—he's been kickin'around an uncommon lot, lately. Tell meagain, who is he? What does he do for alivin'?"

"Why, he's a civil engineer—hydraulicwork is his specialty. He has beenemployed by some company that intendedto put in a power plant of some kind onNettle River, and either the companybroke up, or they found the plan was notfeasible, or something, and theyabandoned it. So Mr. Wentworth isn'tdoing anything, at present. But he is a fine

fellow—so jolly, and so good looking,and he has a wonderful war record. Hewas with the engineers in Russia."

"U-m-m, where d'ye get hold of his warrecord?"

"Why—why—he—he has told us aboutthe things they did—his company."

"Um—hum," Old John was stroking hisnose.

"But, if he's civil engineer, an' out of ajob, you might tell him to stop in a minute—after he gets the right color of atoboggan cap picked out."

IIIWhen the door closed behind the girl oldJohn readjusted his nose glasses andleaned back in his chair. "A cleverengineer he is, beyond a doubt," he mused."For I kept my eye on him while he waslayin' out Orcutt's Nettle River project. Ifhe'd made a botch of the job 'twould havesaved me offerin' my plant to the city. Buthe has the look of a man ye couldn't trustin the dark—an' 'twould be cleverengineerin' to marry a million. I'll set hima job that'll show the stuff that's in him. Ifhe's a crook, I'll give him the chance toprove it." Reaching into a pigeon-hole ofhis desk, McNabb withdrew a thick

packet of papers and removed the rubberband.

A few moments later Jean entered, theoffice followed by a rather well set upyoung man, whose tiny mustache waschopped square, like a miniature sectionof box hedge. "This is Mr. Wentworth,Dad," introduced the girl. "And now I'llleave you two men, because Oskar haspromised to help me pick out a coat, andit's after ten o'clock. And, by the way,Dad, what kind of a coat shall I get? Iwant a good one."

"I'll warrant ye do! Well, just you tellOskar to let you pick out a pony, or acrummer, or a baum marten, or a squirrel.They're all good."

As the door closed behind his daughter,old John McNabb motioned the youngerman to a chair. "My daughter tells meyou're an engineer," he began.

"Yes, sir, temporarily unemployed."

"Come up here on the Nettle Riverproject, I hear. What's the matter?Couldn't you dam the river?"

"Oh, yes. The Nettle River presents noserious engineering problem. I spent fourmonths on the ground and reported itfavorably, and then all of a sudden, I wasinformed that the project had beenabandoned, at least for the present. Thetrouble, I presume, was in the financing. Itcertainly was not because of any physical

obstacles."

"What was the idea in building the dam inthe first place?"

"Why, for power purposes. I believe itwas their intention to inducemanufacturing enterprises to locate inTerrace City, and to furnish them electricpower at a low rate——"

"An' underbid me on the lightin' contract—an' then unload onto the city at a bigprofit."

Wentworth smiled. "I was not advised asto the financial end of it. I suppose,though, that that would have been thelogical procedure."

Old John chuckled. "You're right, itwould, with Fred Orcutt mixed up in it.But they didn't catch me nappin', an' Islipped the word to the city dads that I'dsell out to 'em, lock, stock, an' barrel, at afigure that would have meant a loss toOrcutt's crowd to meet. So I'm the one thatbusted the Nettle River bubble, an' seein' Iknocked ye out of a job, it's no more thanfair I should offer ye another."

"Why, thank you——"

"Don't thank me yet," interrupted McNabb."Ye may not care to tackle it. It's a man'ssize job, in a man's country. Part of it's thesame kind of work you've been doin' here—locatin' a dam to furnish power to run apulp mill. Then you'll have to check up the

land covered by that batch of options, an'explore a couple of rivers, an' locate morepulpwood, an' get options on it. An' layout a road to the railway. It's in Canada, inthe Gods Lake Country, three hundredmiles north of the railhead."

"How soon would you expect me tostart?"

"Monday wouldn't be none too soon; to-morrow would be better. It's this way. I'vegot options on better than half a millionacres of pulpwood lyin' between HayesRiver an' the Shamattawa. Ten years ago Icut the last of my pine, an' I got out mypencil an' begun to figure how I couldkeep in the woods. I pig-ironed a little—got out hardwood for the wooden

specialty factories to cut up into spools,an' clothes-pins, an' oval dishes an'whatnot—an' then I turned my attention tothe pulpwood. I figured it wouldn't belong before the papermills would behollerin' for raw materials the way theywas turnin' out the paper, so I nosedaround a bit an' bought options onpulpwood land here an' there. An' now'sthe time to get busy, with the bignewspapers an' the magazines all howlin'for paper, an' all the mills workin'overtime."

"Do you mean that you're going tomanufacture paper yourself—way upthere? How do you expect to get yourproduct to market?"

"Easy enough. Make the paper in thewoods, an' float it a little better than ahundred miles to Hudson Bay in barges, orscows. You see, the Shamattawa runs intoHayes River, an' Hayes River empties intothe Bay just across a spit of land from PortNelson. And the railway from The Pas toPort Nelson is being pushed tocompletion. With the paper on the Bay, Ican ship by rail or boat to the market."

"And you want to locate the mill on theHayes River?"

"No; the Hayes runs too flat. Either on theupper Shamattawa, or on Gods River,which lies between the two, an' flows intothe Shamattawa. There's plenty of water ineither one, an' I think both or 'em have got

fall enough. I want the mill where it willbe easy to get the wood to it, an' at thesame time, where we'll have a good headof water—an' it's got to be done quick.The options expire the first of August, an'I've nosed around an' found out there's nochance to renew 'em on decent terms.When you get the mill located, then you'vegot to slip down the river an' find out whatkind of scows we'll need, an' lay out aroad to the new Hudson Bay Railwaythat's headed for Port Nelson. We'll haulin the material an' save time. An' whenyou've finished that, you can make asurvey of the pulpwood available outsideour present holdin's."

"Quite a job, take it all in all."

"Yes—an' takin' it all in all, it'll take quitea man to fill it," retorted McNabbbrusquely. "The man that puts this throughwon't never need to hunt another job,because this is only the beginnin' of thepulpwood game for me——" Thetelephone on the desk rang, and after amoment's conversation, McNabb aroseand tossed the packet of papers intoWentworth's lap. "I've got to step out for amatter of ten or fifteen minutes," he said."Here's the papers, an' a map of thecountry. Look 'em over, an' if you care totackle it, let me know when I come back."

Alone in the office, Wentworth studied themap fully five minutes; then he read overthe option contract. Suddenly, hestraightened in his chair, and read the last

clause of the contract carefully:

Be it further agreed that if the said JohnMcNabb, or his authorized representative,does not demand fulfillment of the termsof this agreement, and accompany the saiddemand by tender of at least ten percent ofthe purchase price named herein, on orbefore noon of the first day of July,nineteen hundred and twenty-one, thisagreement shall automatically become nulland void in its entirety.

Be it further agreed between the said JohnMcNabb, and the said Canadian WildLands Company, Ltd., that aforementioneddemand and tender of payment shall bemade at and in the store of that tradingpost of the Hudson's Bay Company,

situated upon the north shore of GodsLake, and known as Gods Lake Post.

Swiftly Wentworth stepped to the deskand, lifting the receiver from its hook,called a number. "Hello! WolverineBank? I want to speak with Mr. Orcutt.Hello, Mr. Orcutt? This is Wentworth—No, I don't want any money. Listen, I mustsee you at once. I'm on the trail ofsomething big, and I need you to helpswing it. There's a million in it—can't saymore now. What? One o'clock at the bank?Right, I'll be there. Good-by."

A few moments later McNabb entered theoffice. "Well, did you look the propositionover? Ye see by the map how we can getthe paper to the Bay. What d'ye say? Take

it, or leave it?"

"I'll take it," answered Wentworth.

"An' ye'll start to-morrow?"

"Why—it's pretty short notice—but—yes,I'll start to-morrow."

Old John McNabb drew a check which hehanded to Wentworth.

"Expenses, an' a month's advance salary,"grunted the older man.

"And when do you want a report on themill site?"

"As soon after the ice goes out as you canmake it."

"And you will be up during the summer?"

"Some time in July—I've got to be thereon the first of August to close that option.Take those location papers with ye. Ye'llneed them, an' the map—I have anothercopy in the vault at the bank. I'll bring 'emup when I come, so if somethin' comes upso you couldn't be at the post on the firstof August, it won't hold up the deal. Runalong now, I must catch the 11:45 train forGrand Rapids—see you in July."

IVUpstairs in the fur department OskarHedin paused in the act of returning somefox pieces to their place, and greeted thegirl who had halted before the tall pierglass to readjust her hat and push arefractory strand of hair into place. "Backagain?" he smiled. "And now for thecoat!"

"Now for the coat," she repeated. "Whatkind of a coat do I want, Oskar? I want totry on lots of them. I don't know a thing inthe world about furs. All I know is thatI've seen some I liked, and some that Ididn't care much for."

For half an hour Jean tried on coats, untilher choice had narrowed down to ahandsome dark baum marten, and ashimmery gray squirrel.

"I think they're both lovely, and I can'tquite make up my mind," she said at last,in a tone of mock despair. "It's worse thanpicking out toboggan caps. I just helpedMr. Wentworth select one—and, oh, bythe way, I believe dad is going to find aplace for him."

"For who?" asked Hedin, and Jean noticedtiny wrinkles gather between his eyes.

"Why, for Mr. Wentworth, of course. Yousee, I told dad that he'd just lost hisposition with that old Nettle River thing

they were trying to put through, and Dadsaid if he was a civil engineer, and out ofa job, to tell him to drop in and see him,so I took him in and introduced him and Iguess they're still talking."

"Humph," grunted Hedin.

"You don't need to be so grumpy about it.Mr. Wentworth is awfully nice, and all thegirls are crazy about him."

"I don't think that gives you any call torave much over him when it was FredOrcutt that brought him here, and hebrought him for no other purpose than toknife your father," replied Hedin dryly.

Jean laughed. "You take Dad too

seriously. He really believes Mr. Orcutthas it in for him, and he sees an ulteriormotive in everything he does in a businessway. But, really, the Orcutts are all right.There was some business deal, years andyears ago, in which Dad fancied Mr.Orcutt tried to get the best of him, and hehas never forgotten it. You see, Dad is thedearest thing that ever lived, but he is sortof crusty, and it isn't everybody that knowshow to take him. Why, Mr. and Mrs.Orcutt are going to be at dinner thisevening, and are going to the theatre, too.They know it is my birthday party, so thatdoesn't look as though they were suchfierce enemies of the McNabbs, does it?

"Let's get back to the subject of coats. Thissquirrel is beautiful, but I believe I like

the dark fur the better. I think I'll try thatmarten again."

Hedin was thinking rapidly. He hadknown from the first that the darker furwas the fur for her, yet he had refrainedfrom making any direct suggestion.

"Just a moment, please," he said. "Won'tyou button that coat once more, I want toget an artificial light effect." As he spoke,he moved toward the windows and drewthe shades. Returning in the gloom, hereached swiftly into the fur safe andwithdrew the Russian sable coat which hedeftly deposited on top of the marten coatthat lay with several others upon a nearbytable. As the girl turned from the glass, heswitched on the light.

"All right," he said, a moment later. "Ifyou care to try on the marten again, we'llsee how that shows up under theartificial." Deftly he lifted the squirrelfrom her shoulders, and, picking up theRussian sable, held it while she slippedher arms into the sleeves. As she buttonedit, he stepped back, and viewed the resultthrough critically puckered eyes. With aneffort he refrained from voicing hisenchantment with the living picture beforehim. Old John was right—it was a coat fitfor a queen!

"I like this one best. I'll take it."

Hedin agreed. "I think you have chosenwisely," he answered, adding, as shestarted to loosen the garment at the throat,

"Just a minute—the set of the collar in theback——" He stepped behind her, raisedthe collar a trifle with his fingers,smoothed it into place, and stepped asideto note the effect. "Just a trifle low," hesaid, "but it's too late to have it altered to-day."

"Oh, bother! I think the set is all right.Who would ever notice it?Let it go."

Hedin smiled. "You can wear it to-night,all right, but you must promise me to sendit down the first thing Monday morning forthe alteration.

"I will bring it to the house thisafternoon."

A sudden caprice seized her. "Why, I thinkI'll wear it!" she answered. "Just help meon with it, Oskar. And thank you so muchfor helping me select it. Here comes Mr.Wentworth, now. I wonder whether hewill like it. I'm crazy about it. What kindof a marten did you say it is? Everybodywill be asking me, and I want to be able totell them what my own coat is."

"Baum marten," answered Hedin stiffly,heartily wishing the coat safe in itsaccustomed place. In vain he regretted thewild impulse that had led him to substitutethe sable coat for the marten. The impulsehad come when the girl told him that Mrs.Orcutt was to be one of the theatre party.The plan had flashed upon him withoverwhelming brilliance. He knew that

Jean would in all probability never noticethat the coat was not a marten. And heknew that Mrs. Orcutt most certainlywould, for McNabb had once publiclycompared it with her coat, much to theNew York coat's detriment and Mrs.Orcutt's humiliation. It was not altogetherloyalty for his employer that led him toplot the woman an uncomfortable evening,for he owed her a grudge on his ownaccount. Ever since the coming ofWentworth, whom she had taken under herspecial patronage, Hedin had beenstudiously omitted from her scheme ofsocial activities—and Jean McNabb hadbeen as studiously included. He knew thatMcNabb was leaving town to be goneuntil the following evening, and that thechance of his seeing the garment was

exceedingly small, and he had invented thefiction of the low collar in order to get thecoat back on Monday morning when hewould, of course, substitute the baummarten and return the sable to its safe. Butnow he felt vaguely uneasy.

Hedin saw that Wentworth was staring atthe coat with a swiftly appraising eye. "It'sa baum marten," Jean went on. "It took mea long time to choose between this and asquirrel. There was one that was aluscious gray, but I like this better—don'tyou?"

Wentworth nodded. "I certainly do," heagreed. "And I do not believe it wouldhave taken me long to decide between thatand a squirrel." He turned to Hedin. "What

do you think, Mr.—ah—Haywood? Thatthe choice was a wise one? This iscertainly a handsome—er—what did yousay it is?"

"Baum marten," snapped Hedin, withscarcely a glance at the questioner, as heturned and began to replace the coats thatlay upon the table. Wentworth watchedHedin return the baum marten to its place,and Jean stepped swiftly to Hedin's side.

As she spoke, he saw that her eyes wereflashing angrily.

"If your surly mood doesn't change," shewhispered, "you will not add much to theenjoyment of our coasting party."

"I shall neither add to, nor detract from it,"answered Hedin, meeting her gazesquarely. "Please don't wait for me. I findthat I shall not be able to attend."

VThe United States Government formallyentered the world war in April, and thefollowing month Ross Wentworth hadbeen graduated from a technical college,and through the auspices of an influentialrelative was commissioned a captain ofengineers, and assigned to duty in one ofthe larger cantonments. In due course ofevents he was sent overseas, and wasattached to the forces operating in northernRussia. During the sixteen months of hisservice in the land of the erstwhile Czar,he acquired a fund of military terms, bothofficial and slang. Also he built andmaintained in a state of inutility, nine and

one-half miles of military swamp road,over which no gun nor detachment oftroops ever passed. The abrupttermination of hostilities caught him with aformidable and inexplicable discrepancyof company funds—which discrepancywas promptly and liberally met by theaforementioned relative. Whereupon,Captain Wentworth was honorablydischarged from the service of his country.

For many months after his discharge helived by his wits and looks, but when thisgrew unproductive of ready cash, hedecided to seek employment in hisaccredited vocation.

This decision he arrived at whilesojourning in the home of a wealthy fruit-

grower who was interested in the NettleRiver project, and who furnished him aletter of recommendation to Orcutt, whopromptly employed him. Thereafter allwent well until McNabb's ultimatumbrought the Nettle River project to assudden a termination as the armistice hadbrought the war. Whereupon Wentworthfound himself in the uncomfortablepredicament of having no available assetsand many pressing liabilities, incurred inthe course of his endeavor to win the goodgraces of the wealthy Jean McNabb.

While scarcely knowing Hedin,Wentworth recognized him as a possiblerival. He, himself, was no connoisseur offur, but at least he knew a Russian sablewhen he saw one, and as he preceded Jean

down the aisle, his brain worked rapidly.

By the time he reached the street, a daringscheme was half-formed in his brain—ascheme which, if successful, would workthe utter ruin of Hedin, and leave him aclear field with the girl. At the first cornerhe excused himself.

Hardly was the girl's back turned whenWentworth dodged around the corner andentered McNabb's store by another doorjust in time to see old John rush from thebuilding, bag in hand, and hurry down thestreet in the direction of the station.

McNabb's was the only big store inTerrace City, and being a departmentstore, it kept city hours, so while on

Saturday evenings all the other storesremained open for business until a latehour, McNabb's closed at noon. Passingunnoticed down the aisle, Wentworth'seyes darted here and there in search of aplace of concealment, until at length hetook up a position close beside McNabb'sprivate office, the door of which, he notedwith satisfaction, stood slightly ajar.

Watching his opportunity, Wentworthslipped unnoticed into the private office,closed the door softly behind him, andsank comfortably into McNabb's deskchair.

A gong sounded, and was repeated, dimly,upon the floors above. Wentworth couldhear the tramp of feet in the aisles as the

clerks poured from the building through adoor that gave on to a side street. In a fewminutes the rush was over, and then theycame scatteringly, singly, and by twos andthrees. He could hear the opening of thedoor, and the click of the lock as it closedbehind them. The footsteps ceased. Hedrew his watch and waited. Noises fromthe street reached him, sounding far offand muffled, but the store was silent as atomb. Twelve minutes ticked away. Afootstep sounded. Wentworth could traceit descending the stairs, and walking thelength of an aisle. Followed the sound ofthe opening door, and the click of thelatch. Some belated department head, hethought. Possibly Hedin, himself—and hegrinned at the thought.

In the silence of the great buildingWentworth suddenly realized that he wasnervous. It was all well enough to plan athing, but the carrying out of the plan wasquite another matter. He took a silent turnor two the length of the office, hisfootsteps making no sound upon the softcarpet. He waited twenty minutes and,hearing no sound, closed his watch anddabbed at his forehead with thehandkerchief which he drew from hissleeve. Turning the knob, he stepped outupon the uncarpeted floor. The sound ofhis footsteps upon the hardwood seemedto reverberate through the whole building.He walked a few steps on tiptoe, and thendecided that in case anyone should seehim, the tiptoeing would look furtive. Sohe walked to the foot of the stairway, his

footsteps sounding in his ears like the ringof a hammer on an anvil. As he ascendedthe stairs he called out, "Hey, isn't thereany one here? I am locked in, and can't getout! Hello! Someone show me the wayout!"

Swiftly he ascended to the third floor andcrossed to the fur case. Silently he slidback the door and lifted the baum martencoat from its place, and stepping to acounter upon which was fixed a huge rollof wrapping paper, he proceeded to makethe coat into a package. This done, hehastened toward the stairway with thepackage under his arm. Down the stairs heflew, taking them two and three at a time,down the next flight, and across the floor,until he brought up panting at the door

with the spring lock by which theemployees had left the building.

Thought of material gain had not until thispoint entered into the scheme. He hadmerely plotted the undoing of a rival, butat the sudden realization of his status inthe eyes of the world, a new thought struckhim. "If I can get away with it—why not?A Russian sable! Why, it's worththousands!"

It took a concentrated effort to open thedoor a tiny crack and peer through.Swiftly opening the door, Wentworthstepped onto the sidewalk, closed thedoor behind him, and clutching hispackage tightly, hurried down the street.He had entirely gained his composure by

the time he reached his hotel, andhastening to his room, placed the packagein his trunk and turned the key. He glancedat his watch. It lacked three minutes ofone, and remembering his appointmentwith Orcutt, he hastened to the WolverineBank.

VIOrcutt greeted his caller withoutenthusiasm. For despite the assuranceover the telephone that Wentworth wantedno money, he felt that he was in for atouch.

The younger man was quick to note theattitude, and hastened to dispel it. "In thefirst place, Mr. Orcutt, I am going to askyou to cash a check for three thousanddollars, but——"

"Three thousand!" exclaimed Orcutt, hiseyes narrowing. "Whose check is it?"

"John McNabb's."

"John McNabb's!" A look of suspicionflashed into his eyes.

"Yes—isn't it good?"

"Good! Hell—yes, of course it's good!But what are you doing withMcNabb's check for three thousand?"

Reaching into his pocket, Wentworth drewout the packet of papers and held it in hishand. "Eight or ten years ago McNabbbought options on a half million acres ofpulp-wood lying between two certainrivers. He sent for me—said he heard Iwas out of a job, and that as he was theone that was responsible for my losing

out, it was only fair that he should offerme another. Then he went on to outline thewhole proposition, told me the optionsexpired on August first; then he was calledout of the office for a minute and asked meto look over the maps and papers and lethim know if I wanted to tackle it or not.

"In going over the contract, I found that theoptions expire on July first, instead ofAugust first, as he said. It was then Icalled you up, for the whole scheme hitme like a flash. Don't you see it? If Iworked for him, I'd draw a salary, and agood one—and nothing more. But if Ishould interest sufficient capital to step inon the first day of July when those optionsexpire, and buy up the whole tract, wherewould McNabb be?"

Orcutt tapped thoughtfully upon his deskpad with the tip of his pencil. "I wonder,"he muttered aloud, more to himself than toWentworth, "I wonder if John has made aslip at last?"

"That is just what he has done! And he isso cocksure of his ground that he didn'teven glance at the papers to refresh hismemory—I doubt if he has looked at themsince he made the deal."

The banker eyed the younger manshrewdly. "And in case I should interestmyself in the proposition to the extent oforganizing the capital to swing the deal,what would you expect out of it?"

"A share in the business, and a salary of

ten thousand a year."

"You don't want much!" exclaimed Orcutt.

"Not any more than you could well affordto give me. You don't realize what a bigthing this is—it's going to take a lot ofcapital to swing it."

"About how much?"

"You'll have to get your figures on thepaper mill from someone that knows moreabout it than I do. The pulp-wood willcost, I imagine, somewhere between sixand ten dollars an acre. McNabb's optionscall for purchase at five dollars, and hetold me he could not renew at that figure.But even at ten dollars, there is a mint in

it. You will have to pay down ten percentof the purchase price in cash."

Orcutt whistled. "Ten percent of thepurchase price, at say, ten dollars, wouldbe half a million. Besides the cost of themill and the interest on four million and ahalf!"

"It is a big proposition," agreedWentworth. "If it is too big for you tohandle, I can find someone who will. Ihave a friend in Detroit whose father willjump at the chance. It isn't too big forMcNabb."

"Who said anything about it being toobig?" snapped Orcutt. "If McNabb couldfind the money, I can. But, mind you, I'm

not going to spend a damned cent on theproposition until after McNabb's optionshave expired and we've got our hands onthe pulp-wood. Mind you; you don't drawany advance money."

"Not a cent," agreed Wentworth. "Butyou'd better have the money right on handon the first day of July; those optionsexpire at noon, and we don't want anydelay about getting hold of the property.And, by the way, I want a written contract—make my share a ten percent interest inthe business."

After some demurring on the part ofOrcutt, he called a stenographer and drewa contract, which he duly signed andhanded to Wentworth, who thrust it into

his pocket with the packet of papers.

"Let's see those papers of McNabb's,"said Orcutt.

Wentworth smiled. "That is hardlynecessary, do you think? I will vouch forthe date—and the location need notconcern you at present. All you need toknow is that at noon on the first day ofJuly, you, or your legal representative,must be at the Gods Lake post of theHudson's Bay Company, with a halfmillion dollars in cash, or its equivalent—and you'd better have all yourarrangements made in advance, and allowplenty of time to get there."

VIIOn the whole the afternoon was adisappointing one for Jean McNabb. Shehad been deeply hurt by Hedin's curtrefusal to attend the coasting party, andWentworth had proved a very luke-warmcavalier. She had started out to beextremely vivacious so all might see thatthe absence of Hedin was a matter of noconcern, but Wentworth's preoccupiedmanner soon dampened her ardor, until forher the coasting party became amonotonous affair.

She breathed a sigh of relief when it wasover, and after a walk, during which

neither ventured a word, she parted fromWentworth at the gate and rushed to herroom. She was furious with Hedin, furiouswith Wentworth, and furious with herselffor being furious.

When he parted from Jean McNabb afterthe coasting party, Wentworth proceededto the railway station, where he purchasedhis ticket and arranged with a truckman tocall for his trunk at exactly eight o'clock.Hastening to the hotel, he dressed fordinner.

This accomplished, he carefully lockedhis door, removed the coat from his trunk,concealed it within the folds of his ownovercoat, and sat down to smoke acigarette as he went over, step by step, his

hastily conceived plan. When the hands ofhis watch indicated that he would beprecisely fifteen minutes late, he left thehotel, carrying the overcoat upon his arm.

The street into which he turned wasdeserted, and proceeding to a pointopposite the Campbell residence, hestepped behind a huge maple tree andsurveyed the brilliantly lighted houseacross the way.

"They're late getting started. I hope theyare not waiting on my account," hegrinned, and drew closer into the shadowof the trees as a lone pedestrian passedalong the opposite sidewalk. Faintly to hisears came the sound of laughter, and thenthere was a general exodus toward the

dining room. With a sigh of relief,Wentworth crossed the street, rang thedoorbell, and was admitted.

"That you, Captain Wentworth?" calledhis hostess. "We waited for you until justthis minute."

"Awfully sorry to be late—detestablething to do—going away in the morning—thousand-and-one things to attend to—bedown in a moment to offer humbleapology."

Swiftly and silently Wentworth removedthe coat from within his own, crossed thehall, substituted the baum marten for theRussian sable, and reentered thegentlemen's dressing room, where it was

but the work of a moment to conceal thegarment within the folds of his coat. Thenhe descended the stairs, entered the diningroom, and seated himself in the vacantchair beside Jean McNabb.

The dinner went as dinners do and wasbrought to a rather abrupt termination bysomeone's discovery that it lacked but fiveminutes to eight. As the guests rose fromthe table Wentworth gave a startledexclamation.

"In my haste in dressing I forgot mypocketbook. I distinctly recollectremoving it from my pocket and tossing itupon the bed, and there I must have left it."He turned to Elsie Campbell. "I hope youwill pardon me if I hurry away but really,

that pocketbook contains a rather largesum—expense money you know—and, Iam almost certain that I neglected to lockmy room. I will join you at the door of thetheatre; I can easily reach there beforeyou, if I hurry."

A moment later he rushed from the housewith his overcoat upon his arm, andhurried to the hotel where, lifting the trayof his trunk, he deposited the sable coat,replaced the tray, locked and strapped thetrunk, and finished just in time to respondto the knock of the truckman. Five minuteslater he was waiting at the theatre for theothers, who appeared just before the riseof the curtain on the first act.

VIIIWhen Oskar Hedin left the store at theclosing hour, he went directly to his hotel,bolted a hasty luncheon, slipped intooutdoor togs and a half hour later wassilently threading an old log-trail that bitdeep into the jack-pines. Mile after milehe glided smoothly along that silentwinding white lane, his skis making nosound in the soft, deep snow.

Just beyond a swamp, in the centre of awide clearing, surrounded upon threesides by the encroaching jack-pines andpoplars, and upon the fourth by a broadbend of the river, Hedin removed his skis

and seated himself upon a rotting log of atumbled-down cabin, there to think.

So, that's why she wanted a new coat? Shewas going out for the evening withWentworth. And she invited Wentworth togo tobogganing, on this particularafternoon of all others, when he hadintended to whisper in her ear, as thetoboggan flew down the steep grade, thething that had been uppermost in his mindfor a year. And she had asked her father togive him a job. Of course, what could besimpler? A man can manage to exist,somehow, without a job—but with two ajob is essential.

He laughed, a short, hard laugh that endedin a sneer. Well, he had been a fool—

that's all. He had served her purpose, hadbeen the poor dupe upon whom she hadpractised her wiles, a plaything, to belightly tossed aside for a new toy. Someday, too late perhaps, she would see hermistake, and then she would suffer, evenas he was suffering now—but, no, tosuffer one must first love, and woman hadnot the capacity to love. "To hell withthem!" he cried aloud. "To hell with mytame job! And to hell with Terrace City,and with the civilization that calls a manfrom the wild places and sets him toselling women baubles to deck themselvesout in."

The jack-pine shadows reached far intothe clearing as Oskar fastened on his skisand headed back along the tote-road. It

was not too late—he was only twenty-five. He, too, would live like a man,would go into the North, and henceforthonly the outlands should know him. Hewould resign Monday morning. Thethought caused a pang of regret at partingwith McNabb.

Darkness found him still upon the tote-road. He emerged from the jack-pines andpaused at the long smooth hill, as was hiswont, to look down upon the brilliantlights of Terrace City. His momentumcarried him skimming across a flatmeadow, and he slowed to a stand at thevery end of the main street where, in thewhite glare of an arc light he removed hisskis, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Well, he would see her once more,arrayed in the coat of matched sable—andhe would carry the picture with him to farplaces where the stars winked cold in thenight sky.

Fully twenty minutes before time for thecurtain Hedin was in his place, tenth rowon the middle aisle, eagerly scanning thepatrons as they were ushered to theirseats. The theatre boasted only two boxes,set just above the stage level, and ElsieCampbell had engaged them both.

As time for the curtain to rise drew near,Hedin found himself fidgeting nervously.Had the theatre party been called off? Thehouse was already well filled; surelythere was no block of vacant seats that

would accommodate a dinner party. Then,as he had about given up hope, he raisedhis eyes to a box just as Jean McNabbentered, followed closely by Wentworth.Hedin stared as if petrified, brushed hishand across his eyes as though to clear hisvision of distorting film, and stared again.For Wentworth was lifting a coat fromJean's shoulders, but it was not a sableone. Seizing his hat and coat, Hedinrushed from the building, narrowlyavoiding collision with an usher.

Without pausing to put on his coat, hedashed for the store and letting himself in,took the stairs three at a time. Upon thesecond flight, he met the night watchmanwho, recognizing him, allowed him topass, but noting his evident agitation and

unaccountable haste, silently anddiscreetly followed and took up a positionwhere he could watch every move of theexcited department head. Hastening to thefur safe, Hedin unlocked and threw itopen. He switched on the light, and peeredinto the interior. The Russian sable coatwas not in its accustomed place. And ahurried search of the safe showed that itwas in no other place. Closing the door,he inspected the case that contained theless valuable furs, and it was but the workof a moment to discover that the baummarten coat was missing. Dumbfounded,he stared at the empty space where thecoat should have been. His briefinspection in the theatre had told him thiswas the coat Jean McNabb was wearing—but where was the sable? He distinctly

remembered replacing the marten with hisown hands, and of seeing the girl passdown the aisle wearing the sable.

He sank into his chair and, leaningforward, buried his face in his arms uponhis desk. He tried to think clearly, butfound himself entirely incapable ofthought. How did it happen? Where wasthe sable?

Calling the watchman, Hedin questionedhim for half an hour, but learned nothing.He even made a personal inspection ofevery door and window in the store, andsent the watchman to the basement on atour of similar inspection. When the manreturned and reported nothing disturbed,Hedin left the store and proceeded

directly to his room, where he spent asleepless night in trying to solve themystery.

After breakfast the following morningJean McNabb sat before the little dressingtable in her room when the doorbell rang,and the maid announced Mr. Hedin.

"Tell Mr. Hedin I can't see anyone thismorning," she said, without looking up.

Again the maid tapped at the door, andentering, handed the girl a hastilyscribbled leaf torn from a notebook. Jeanread it at a glance, and her face flushedwith swift anger. No salutation, only a fewscrawled words: "Must see you at once.Purely matter of business—very important

—about the coat."

Crossing to her desk the girl scribbledupon the reverse side of the paper. "Nevertalk business on Sunday. Coat will be atstore as per agreement."

IXOn Monday morning old John McNabbentered his private office to find Hedinawaiting him. He glanced at the youngerman inquiringly—"What ails ye, lad? Yelook like ye hadn't slept for a week."

"I haven't slept for two nights," answeredHedin. "There is no use beating around thebush. As a matter of fact, the Russiansable coat is missing, and I am to blamefor it."

The old man stared incredulously."Missin'!" he exclaimed. "An' you're toblame! What d'ye mean?"

Hastily, in as few words as possible,Hedin recited the facts as he knew them,while an angry flush mounted to the oldman's face.

McNabb reached for the telephone andcalled a number. "Hello! Is that you, Jean?Come to the store at once, and bring yournew fur coat—to my office. . . . What? No,that won't do, at all. Bring it yourself—I'mwaitin'."

"I'll step outside while Jean—while MissMcNabb——"

"Ye'll stay where ye are!" snappedMcNabb.

The older man turned to his desk, where

for ten minutes he opened and closeddrawers and rustled papers viciously.Then the door opened and Jean herselfstepped into the room with the fur coatover her arm. "Well, Dad, here's the coat."She paused abruptly, glanced inquiringlyat Hedin, nodded coolly, and continued,"Oskar said it needed a little tailoring, andthat I was to bring it down this morning,but I didn't think there was any tearinghurry about it."

Her father took the garment, smoothed thefur with his hand, and asked casually, "Isthis the coat ye wore from the store?"

"Why, of course it is."

"An' the one ye wore to the show?"

"Yes, yes," answered the girl impatiently."I haven't so many fur coats that I wouldbe apt to get them mixed."

McNabb ignored the impatience. "Ye'vehad no other coat in your possession sinceyou selected this one?"

"No, I haven't. What's all this about?"

"Did Oskar tell you what kind of a coatyou were gettin'?"

"Yes, a baum marten. Why, isn't it a baummarten?"

McNabb nodded. "Yes, it's a baummarten. Run along now. I just wanted tosee which coat ye'd got. Here, take italong with ye. The tailor can wait."

With a puzzled glance at the two men,Jean took the coat, and with a toss of thehead left the office.

McNabb turned to Hedin. "What have yegot to say now? Did the girl tell the truth?"

"Absolutely."

"Then that was the coat she wore from thestore?"

"No—but she thinks it was. She doesn'tknow the difference."

For a long time John McNabb spoke noword but sat staring at his desk, pecking atthe blotter with his pencil. He pridedhimself upon his ability to pick men. Heknew men, and in no small measure was

this knowledge responsible for hissuccess in dealing with men. He had beencertain that Jean and Hedin wouldeventually marry, and secretly he longedfor the day. He had watched Hedin foryears and now, despite the improbabilityof the story, he believed it implicitly. Andit was with a heavy heart that he hadwatched the studied coldness of eachtoward the other. McNabb was a man ofsnap decisions. He would teach theseyoung fools a lesson, and at the same timefind out which way the wind blew. With aclenching of his fists, he whirled abruptlyupon Hedin.

"What did ye do with the coat?" he roared."It'll go easier with ye if ye tell me!"

"What do you mean?" cried Hedin, whiteto the lips, meeting McNabb's gaze with alook of mingled surprise, pain, and anger.

"I mean just what I say. Ye've got the coat—where is it?"

Hedin felt suddenly weak and sick. Hehad expected McNabb's anger at hisfoolish whim, and knew that he deservedit—but that McNabb should accuse him oftheft! Sick at heart, he faltered his answer,and in his own ears his voice soundedstrange, and dull, and unconvincing. "Youthink I—I stole it?"

"What else am I to think? What will thepolice think? What will the jury thinkwhen they hear your flimsy yarn—an' the

straightforward evidence of my daughter?They'll think that the coat she wore to theshow, an' that she still has, is the coat shewore from the store, an' that you've got theother. An' when Kranz tells of yourmidnight visit to the store, what'll theythink then?" McNabb finished and,reaching for the telephone, called thepolice headquarters. A few minutes laterthe chief himself appeared, accompaniedby the night watchman, Kranz, whose storyof the nervous and agitated appearance ofHedin on his midnight visit to the storeforged the strongest link in the chain ofcircumstantial evidence.

After the watchman had been dismissed,Hedin was subjected to a bullying at thehands of the burly officer that stopped just

short of personal violence, and through itall he stubbornly maintained hisinnocence.

After another brief telephoneconversation, the three visited the privateroom of the judge where, waiving apreliminary hearing, the prisoner wasbound over to await the action of thegrand jury, and his bail fixed at tenthousand dollars.

XAt the mouth of the alley that led from aside street to the rear of the jail, thepoliceman plucked at Hedin's sleeve, andturned in. Mechanically Hedin fell inbeside him. Someone passed upon thestreet. "See who that was?" asked theofficer maliciously, for he knew all thetown gossip. Hedin scarcely heard thequestion. "It was McNabb's gal. Herthrowin' you over fer this here Wentworthdidn't give you no license to steal her oldman's fur coat, all right—but maybe youain't so onlucky, at that. Folks says she'sall right—a little gay an' the like of that—but runnin' the streets at midnight, like she

was a Saturday, with a guy that goes after'em like Wentworth! Call it gay if theywant to, but if it was anyone but oldMcNabb's daughter, they'd be callin' itsomethin' else."

Smash! Hedin's fist drove with terrificforce into the flappy jaw, and the bigofficer reeled, and crashed into the snowbetween a row of ash barrels, and adilapidated board fence. The young manstared in surprise as he waited for theother to regain his feet. The officer'swords had roused a sudden flash of fury,and with nerves already strained to thebreaking point, he had struck. But the man,grotesquely sprawled behind the barrels,made no move.

Hedin glanced up and down the alley. Itwas empty. He was free! Swiftly heproceeded down the alley, passed the jail,and turned into the street. Here heslackened his pace, and walking leisurelyto his hotel, hastily made up a light pack.Passing around to the rear, he took his skisfrom their place, walking to the edge oftown, fastened them on, and was soonswallowed up in the jack-pines. For anhour he glided smoothly over the snow,and upon the edge of a balsam thicket satdown on a log to rest.

There were two courses open. Either hecould return to Terrace City and face thecharge against him as best he could, or hecould keep going. It was only a few milesacross country to Pipe Lake, where he

could catch the P.M. for Detroit.

His thoughts turned abruptly from theproblem of flight, and plunged into theproblem of the missing coat. It was notconceivable that the garment had beendestroyed; therefore it was still inexistence. If in existence, somebody hadit. Who? One by one, Hedin consideredthe personnel of the theatre party, and oneby one he eliminated them until onlyWentworth was left. Wentworth! If hecould only prove it! He remembered thatsomeone had casually remarked thatmorning at breakfast that Wentworth hadgone North for old John McNabb. He hadheard McNabb mention some pulp-woodlands in the North. Gods Lake, wasn't it?Why, Gods Lake post was old Dugald

Murchison's post! Hedin rememberedMurchison well. It was only last year hehad spent a week as the guest of his oldfriend McNabb, and nearly every eveningat dinner Hedin had sat at meat with them,and listened in fascination to the talk ofthe far outlands. He remembered theshrewd gray eyes of Murchison—eyes thatbespoke wisdom, and justice temperedwith mercy.

He smote his leg with his mittened fist. Hewould go North, straight to old DugaldMurchison, and he would tell him thewhole story. Murchison would help him,and if Wentworth were innocent, then he,Hedin would return to Terrace City andgive himself up. He would not be afugitive from justice, for justice owed him

the chance to prove his innocence.

Once his mind was made up, Hedin roseto his feet and slung the light pack to hisback. Then he lowered the pack, and stoodthinking. He would hit for Pipe Lake, butHanson, the storekeeper at Pipe Lake,would recognize him. Tossing his packaside, he scooped a hole in the snow, builta tiny fire of balsam twigs, and meltedsome water in his drinking cup. Then,setting a small hand mirror upon the log,he produced his razor and proceeded toshave off his mustache. This done, hegrinned at himself in the mirror, as hereflected that Hanson had never seen himexcept in conventional clothing, and thathe would never recognize him inmackinaw and larrigans, with his

mustache gone.

Once more he stood up, kicked snow overhis fire, swung the pack to his back, andstarted to skirt the swamp. Then suddenlyhe halted in his tracks. There was a mightycrackling of dry twigs close at hand, and avoice commanded gruffly, "Hands up!"

Instinctively Hedin elevated his hands ashe stared into the muzzle of a revolver.Beyond the revolver he saw the grinningface of Mike Duffy, erstwhile lumberjack,then bootlegger, and now policeman;under the Hicks regime.

"Shaved her off, eh?" taunted the man."Well, mebbe you'd 'a' fooled most folks,but you hain't fooled me none, special' as I

be'n layin' in the brush watchin' you ferhalf an hour. You'd of got away from therest of 'em too."

XIOld John McNabb had not been long at hisdesk when the telephone bell rang and hepicked up the receiver.

"Hello—who? Hicks? He—what? Whereis he now? Got away! Well, you get him!Get him, or I'll get you! If he ain't back injail to-day, off comes your buttons to-morrow—do you get that?" Old Johnbanged the receiver onto the hook, andlaunched what would undoubtedly havebeen a classic of denunciatory profanity,had it not been interrupted in its inceptionby Jean, who had slipped into the officeunnoticed at the beginning of the telephone

conversation.

"Why, Dad!" exclaimed the girl laughing,as the red-faced man whirled upon her insurprise. "What a beastly temper you arein this morning! Who got away, and whyare you so anxious to have him caught?"

"Oskar got away," he growled, apparentlysomewhat mollified by his daughter's tone."Hicks started for jail with him an' Oskarknocked him down in the alley an' gotaway."

"Oskar! Jail! What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I say," answeredMcNabb, meeting the girl's startled gazesquarely. "A thirty thousand dollar sable

coat is missing from the store, and no oneexcept Oskar and I had access to the fursafe. He made up a cock-an'-bull storyabout letting you wear it Saturday to showup Mrs. Orcutt. He claims he went to thetheatre to enjoy the effect on Mrs. Orcutt,when he discovered that you werewearing, not the Russian sable that youhad worn from the store, but a baummarten coat. He hurried to the store to findthat both the sable and the marten coatswere gone——"

Old John noticed that as he talked thecolor receded slowly from the girl's face,leaving it almost chalk white, and thensuddenly the color returned with a rushthat flamed red to her hair roots. But hewas totally unprepared for the sudden fury

with which she faced him.

"And you had him arrested! Oskararrested like a common thief! Are youcrazy? You know as well as I do that henever stole a pin——"

"No, he never stole a pin, but there's somelittle difference in value between a pinand a thirty thousand dollar coat. They sayevery man's got his price."

"It's a lie!" cried the girl, stamping herfoot. "But even if it were true, his pricewould be so big that there isn't moneyenough in this world to even tempt him!You ought to be ashamed of yourself!Think what people will say!"

"I don't care what they say. He's got thatcoat, an' I'm right here to see that he getsjust what's comin' to him."

"Well, what people will say won't hurtOskar!" cried the girl. "They'll all knowhe didn't steal your coat! They'll sayyou're a fool! That's what they'll say—andthey'll be right, too! It won't take him longto prove his innocence, and then what willpeople think of you?"

"He ain't got a show to prove hisinnocence," retorted McNabb. "Your owntestimony will convict him. Didn't ye tellme right here in this room within the hourthat the coat ye brought in was the one yewore from the store, an' the one ye woreto the theatre?"

"And I thought it was," flared the girl."But if Oskar says it wasn't then it wasn't.And let me tell you this—if you'redepending on my testimony to convict him,you might as well have him turned looseright this minute! Because I won't say aword at their old trial. They can put me injail, too, but they can't make me talk. Thewhole thing is an outrage, and I'm goingright straight down to the jail and tell themto let him out this minute——"

"He's out all right," retorted McNabb. "Heknocked Hicks down and escaped on theway to jail."

"I'm glad of it! I hope he broke that nastyold Hicks's head! And if they catch Oskaryou had better see that they let him go at

once—unless you want to see your owndaughter married to a jailbird!"

XIIIt was nine o'clock that evening when,growling and grumbling, Hicks himselfmoved heavily down the short corridor ofthe jail, and unlocked the door of the cellthat held Oskar Hedin. "Come on out!" hecommanded.

Hedin stepped in the corridor, and lookedinquiringly into the officer's face. "What'sup?" he asked.

"Bailed out," growled Hicks.

"Bailed out! Why, who——?"

"I don't know, an' don't give a damn.Someone that's got more money thanbrains. I wouldn't trust you as far as Icould throw a bull by the tail, an' youneedn't think I've forgot the poke in thejaw you give me. I'll git you yet."

Hedin paused upon the steps of the policestation and glanced across the streetwhere a light burned in the office ofHiram P. Buckner, attorney-at-law.Buckner held the reputation of being by farthe most able lawyer in the vicinity, andHedin's first impulse was to retain him.He crossed the sidewalk and pausedabruptly as he remembered that Bucknerwas McNabb's attorney. Of course, theprosecution of his case would be in thehands of the state, but—why jeopardize

his own case by employing a man whostood at the beck and call of the very manwho was pushing his prosecution? Heturned and proceeded slowly toward hishotel, and as he passed down the street aman stepped from the office of the attorneyand followed. He was a large man,muffled to the ears in a fur coat. Hefollowed unnoticed, into the hotel and upthe stairs, and when Hedin entered hisroom and switched on the light the manstepped across the threshold and closedthe door behind him. He turned and facedHedin, throwing back the collar of hiscoat. Hedin gasped in amazement. Theman was old John McNabb, and to hisutter bewilderment, Hedin caught atwinkle in the old Scot's eye.

XIII"'Tis the truth, I'd never ha' know'd ye, an'ye hadn't told me who ye was," welcomedold Dugald Murchison, as he grippedHedin's hand in the door of the littletrading post on the shore of Gods Lake."Knock the snow from your clothes an'come in to the stove. You're just in time,for by the signs, the storm that's on us willbe a three days' nor'easter straight off theBay. Ye'd of had a nasty camp of it if ye'dof been a day later."

"The guide saw it coming, and we diddouble time yesterday, and to-day wedidn't stop to eat."

Murchison nodded. "Ye come in up thechain of lakes from the south. 'Tis a man'sjob ye've done—this time o' year. Yecome up from Lac Seul, an' by the guideye've got, I see the hand of John McNabbin your visit. For old Missinabbee won'tgo into the woods with everyone, thoughhe'd go through hell itself for JohnMcNabb. But come on in an' get thawedout while the Injun 'tends to the dogs, an'then we'll eat."

"Has Wentworth arrived yet?" askedHedin, as he followed the factor towardthe stove at the rear of the trading room.

Murchison shook his head. "Ye're the firstthis winter. But who's Wentworth? An'what'll he be doin' here? An' what are ye

doin' here yourself? I suppose it had to dowith John's pulp-wood, but the optionsdon't expire till sometime in the summer.Why didn't he come himself?"

It was a long story Hedin unfolded as heand Murchison sat late over their pipesbeside the roaring stove in the long, lowtrading room. The factor puffed in silencewithout once interrupting until the youngerman had finished.

"So John is really goin' to build a papermill up here? But why did John hire thisWentworth if he figured he couldn't trusthim, an' why did he have ye under arrestan' bail ye out? Unless——"

The old factor paused and puffed at his

pipe the while his eyes were fixed uponthe deep shadows at the far corner.

"Unless what?" asked Hedin eagerly. "Ithought, at first, that he believed me guiltyof stealing the coat," he went on whenMurchison didn't answer. "I know nowthat he didn't, but when I asked him thereason for my arrest, he only laughed andsaid that it was all part of the game." Thenthe younger man's voice dropped, andMurchison noted that the look of eagernesshad faded from his face. "As to the hiringof Wentworth," continued Hedin, "that isanother matter."

The factor rose slowly and, crossing to thedoor, opened it and hastily closed it againas a swirl of fine snow-powder enveloped

him. Hedin caught the muffled roar of thewind, and in the draught of cold air thatswept the room, the big swinging lampflared smokily. Murchison returned to hischair and filled his pipe. "How's John'sdaughter comin' along?" he asked betweenpuffs of blue smoke.

"Why, Miss McNabb is very well, Ibelieve," answered Hedin, a bitawkwardly. "You were right about thatstorm," Hedin hastened to change thesubject. "I'm mighty glad we made GodsLake to-day, or we would have been heldup for the Lord knows how long."

Murchison suppressed a smile, andhunched his chair a bit nearer the stove."When all's said an' done then, the case

stands about like this. This engineer willbe along in a few days to begin worklocatin' the power dam, an' lookin' upmore pulpwood. John believes thatWentworth will let the options expire, an'then swing the stuff over to this man Orcuttan' his crowd—an he's sent you up toblock the game."

Hedin nodded. "That's it."

"You're my clerk, an' your name's SvenLarson—that's a goodScandinavian name—an' you don't knownothin' about pulp-wood, noroptions. I guess it would be best if wecould put him up right here.We could be watchin' him all the whilewithout seemin' to."

"I wonder when Wentworth will be here?"speculated Hedin.

"There's no tellin'. It's accordin' to theoutfit he packs an' the guide he's got.They'll have to camp for the storm, an' thesnow will slow them up one-half. Thestorm will last three days or four, an' afterthat, a day, mebbe a week. Anyways,'twill give ye time to learn the duties of afactor's clerk, which is a thing theCompany has never furnished at GodsLake, but if John McNabb foots the bill,they'll not worry. 'Twould be better an' yecould play the dolt—not an eediot, or anaddlepate—but just a dull fellow, slow ofwit, an' knowin' nought except of fur."

Hedin laughed. "That won't bother me in

the least."

Murchison shook his head. "'Twill not beso easy as ye think. Askin' foolishquestions here an' there, forgettin' to dothings ye're told to do, ponderin' deepover simple matters, an' above all ye're toneither laugh nor take offense when Iberate ye for a dullard. Ye get the idea—your knowledge of fur is your only excusefor livin'?"

"I get it," smiled Hedin.

Murchison studied the younger manintently. "This Wentworth—how well didye know him? Or, rather, how well did heknow you?"

"You are wondering whether he willrecognize me?"

The factor nodded. "Yes, I would not haveknown ye, for as I remember ye wore amustache, an' were smooth of chin an' jaw,an' of course, ye wore city clothes. Butone who had known ye well wouldn't beso easy fooled."

"He won't recognize me. We have metonly a few times. But even if he hadknown me much better I wouldn't beafraid, because when I left Terrace Citydressed in these togs, and carrying alumberjacks' turkey on my back, I stoppedinto a cigar store and inquired the way tothe station. The clerk who has seen meevery day for years pointed out the way

without a flicker of recognition in his eyes—and I didn't have this stubby beard theneither."

Murchison seemed satisfied, and aftershowing his new clerk to his bed, hereturned to the stove and knocked the ashfrom his pipe. "John is canny," he grinned."As canny in the handlin' of women, as ofmen. He'll have the son-in-law he wants,an' careful he'll be that he's the man of thelass's own choosin'."

XIVOn the day after the big storm oldMissinabbee returned to the southward,and the following day Wentworth arrivedat the post, cursing his guide, and thestorm, and the snow that lay deep in theforest. The half-breed refused to stop overand rest, but accepted his pay and turnedhis dogs on the back-trail. And asMurchison accepted McNabb's letter ofintroduction from Wentworth's hand in thedoor of the post trading room, his eyesfollowed the retreating form of the guide.For he had caught a malevolent gleam ofhate that flashed from the narrowed blackeyes as the man had accepted his pay.

"Ye have not seen the last of yon," he said,turning to Wentworth with a nod of hishead toward the breed. "Alex Thumb iscounted a bad man in the North. I wouldnot rest so easy, an' he was camped on mytrail."

Wentworth scowled. "Worthless devil!Kicked on my bringing my trunk. Wantedme to transfer my stuff into duffle bags andcarry a pack to ease up on his dogs; andthen to top it off with, he wasn't going tolet me ride on the sled. But I showed himwho was boss. I hired the outfit andbelieve me, I rode whenever I felt like it.He may have you fellows up here bluffed,but not me."

"Well, 'tis none of my business. I was only

givin' ye a friendly warnin'. Come on nowtill I get my glasses on, an' we'll see whatye've got here."

Presently he folded and returned the briefnote. "An' now what can I do for ye? Willye be makin' your headquarters here, orwill ye have a camp of your own down onthe river?"

"I think I'll stay here if there's room. WhenI'm exploring the riverI can take a light outfit along."

"There's plenty of room. There's an emptycabin beside the storehouse, an' I'll have astove set up, an' your things moved in.Ye'll take your meals with me. There'sonly a couple of Company Injuns, an' my

clerk." Murchison paused. "Sven!" hecalled. "Sven Larson! Where are ye?Come down out of that fur loft! I've a jobfor ye."

Slow, heavy footsteps sounded upon thefloor above, and a moment later two feetappeared upon the ladder, and verydeliberately the clerk negotiated thedescent.

"Sven Larson, this is Mr. Wentworth. He'sfrom the States, an' he's goin' to live in thecabin. Take Wawake an' Joe Irish an' setup a stove in there, an' move the stuff inthat lays outside."

Hedin acknowledged the introduction witha solemn bob of the head, and as he stared

straight into Wentworth's face he blinkedowlishly.

"This stove?" he asked, indicating thehuge cannon stove in which the fire roarednoisily.

"No! No! Ye numbskull! One of themYukon stoves. An' be quick about it."

"What stuff?"

"The stuff that lays outside the door—Wentworth's stuff, of course!'

"In the cabin?"

"Yes, in the cabin!" cried the factorimpatiently. "Ye didn't think ye was to putit in the stove, did ye?"

Hedin moved slowly away in search ofthe Company Indians, and Wentworthlaughed. "Hasn't got quite all his buttons,has he?" he inquired. "I should say theCompany had treated you shabbily in thematter of a clerk."

"Well, I don't know," replied Murchison."I could have had worse. 'Tis not to begainsaid that he's slow an' heavy of wit inthe matter of most things, but the ladknows fur. More than forty years I'vehandled fur, an' yet to-day the striplin'knows more about fur, an' the value of fur,than I ever will know. An' then there's theclose-mouthedness of him. Ye tell him athing, an' caution him to say naught aboutit, an' no bribe nor threat could drag aword of it from his lips. So, ye see, for the

job he's got, I could scarce hope forbetter."

"I presume he knows only raw furs," saidWentworth casually. "He could, of course,have no knowledge of the finishedproduct."

"An' there ye're wrong. Of his early life Iknow nothing except that he's a foreigner,raised in the fur trade. He can spot toppedor pointed furs as far as he can see them,an' as for appraisin' them, he can tellalmost to a dollar the value of any pieceye could show him. But——"

The door opened and Murchison turned togreet a newcomer. "Hello, Downey!" hecalled. "'Tis a long time since ye've

favored Gods Lake with a visit. Come upto the stove, lad, an' meet Mr. Wentworth.

"Mr. Wentworth, this is CorporalDowney, of the Royal Northwest MountedPolice." At the word police Wentworthstarted ever so slightly, but caught himselfon the instant. He searched the keen grayeyes of the officer as he extended hishand, but if Downey noticed themomentary trepidation he gave no sign.

"So you're Wentworth," he remarkedcasually, as he swung the light pack fromhis shoulders.

"Captain Wentworth."

"Oh," Downey accorded him a slanting

glance, and entered into conversation withMurchison.

"You knew my name, do you want to seeme?" Wentworth interrupted after a waitof several minutes.

"No, not in particular. Only if I was youI'd beware of a dark-haired man, as thefortune-tellers say."

"What do you mean?"

"I met Alex Thumb a piece back on thetrail."

"Well, what of it? What has that got to dowith me?"

"I don't know. He mentioned your name,

that's all. An' I just kind of surmised fromthe way he done it that you an' him didn'tpart the best of friends."

"I hired him for a guide, and he undertookto give me my orders on the trail. But Isoon showed him where he stood."

Downey nodded. "He's counted badmedicine up here."

"I guess he won't bother me any; I'm hereto stay."

"No, he won't be apt to bother you any.Probably kill you, though, if you don'tkeep your eyes open. But don't worryabout that, because if he does I'll get him."

"He can't bluff me. I served with the

engineers in Russia."

"You'll be servin' with the devils in hell,too, if you don't quit makin' enemies ofmen like Alex Thumb."

"They didn't use up all the brains, whenthey made the Mounted,Captain."

"Corporal'll do me," corrected the officer."I wasn't with the engineers—in Russia. Iwas only in the trenches—in France."

As Downey slung his pack to hisshoulders the following morning hestepped close to Murchison. The tradingroom was deserted save for those two, butthe officer lowered his voice. "Wentworth

ain't the only one around here that needswatchin'," he said warningly.

"What do ye mean?"

"I mean your clerk ain't the fool he lets onhe is. That room you put me in was next tohis. The chinkin's fallen out in spots, an'his light was lit late, so I just laid in mybunk an' glued my eye to the crack. Hewas readin'—an' enjoyin' what he read.He'd lay down the book now an' then an'light a good briar pipe. I'd get a good lookinto his face then, an' he's no more a foolthan you or I. He's damned smart lookin'.An' the books he had laid out on the tablewasn't books a fool would be readin'. Hewas careful to hide 'em away when herolled in—an' he cleaned his fingernails

with a white handled dingus, an' brushedhis teeth, an' put the tools back in a blackleather case that had silver trimmin's.Believe me, there's somethin' comin' offhere between now an' summer, an' I'mgoin' to ask for the detail!"

Murchison laughed. "Come on back,Downey, and you'll see the fun. An' I ain'tso sure you won't be needed in yourofficial capacity. But don't bother yourhead over Sven Larson. Remember this: ittakes a smart man to play the fool, an' playit right. That's why John McNabb sent himup here. An' his name ain't Larson; it'sHedin. He's John's right-hand man—an' ifI mistake not someday he'll be his son-in-law."

"Oh, I'll be back all right," grinnedDowney. "I've got a hunch that maybe I'llbe needed."

"Ye wouldn't be sorry to have to arrestWentworth for some kind of thievery,would ye, Downey? I could see yedistrusted him from the moment ye laideyes on him."

"U-m-m-m," answered Downey. "I wasthinkin' more of, maybe, bringin' in AlexThumb—for murder."

A week later Murchison accompaniedWentworth upon a ten-day trip, during thecourse of which they visited the proposedmill site, the McNabb holdings, and agreat part of the available pulp-wood

territory adjoining. With Murchison'shelp, Wentworth sketched a map of thedistrict that showed with workableaccuracy the location of lakes andstreams, together with the location ofGovernment and Hudson's Bay Companylands. This done, he secured an Indianguide and proceeded to lay out and blazethe route of the wagon road to the railway.

By the middle of May the snow had nearlydisappeared, and the first of June saw therivers running free of ice. It was then thatWentworth "borrowed" Sven Larson fromthe factor and dropped down Gods Riverin a canoe to its confluence with theShamattawa. Camp was made at the headof the rapids. Thereafter for five daysHedin worked under Wentworth's

direction, while the engineer ran hislevels and established his contour. In theevenings as they sat by the campfiresmoking, Hedin preserved the same stolidsilence that he had studiously observedsince the coming of Wentworth.

"Murchison says you know all about fur,"Wentworth suggested one evening. "Andthe finished fur? Do you know that, too—about, well, for instance kolinsky, andnutria, and Russian sable?"

"Kolinsky and nutria are no good. We donot have them here. Russian sable, and seaotter, and black fox, they are the best fursin the world. We do not have them here,either, except once in a while a black, or asilver fox."

"A coat of Russian sable would be veryvaluable?"

"Yes. Real Russian sable, dark, and wellsilvered, would be very valuable."

"How much would one be worth?"

"Nobody can tell unless they can see it. Itis all in the matching."

For a full minute Wentworth studied theface across the little fire, the face with theunkempt beard, and the far-off, ponderingeyes.

"I have a Russian sable coat," venturedWentworth.

The factor's clerk gazed at him with

unwinking blue eyes, and the head waggedslowly. "No. Russian sable is woman'sfur. They do not make men's coats ofRussian sable."

"But this is a woman's coat," explainedWentworth. "I got it in Russia when I wasin the Army. She was a Russian princessand I helped her escape from the countryat great risk to myself. It was in thewinter, in the dead of night, and a terribleblizzard was raging. When she safelycrossed the border she thanked me withtears in her eyes and begged me to takeher coat in payment, as she had no money.I refused, but she tossed it into my arms,and disappeared into the night."

"Maybe she died in the storm without her

coat."

"Why, no—you see, she had—that is, Ihad arranged for a car—a sleigh, I mean,to meet her there with plenty of robes. Butwhat I want to get at, is this. If I show youthis coat will you promise not to say aword to Murchison about it? I do not wanthim to know I have it. He would want tobuy it, and he is my friend and I do notwant to refuse him. But I do not want tosell the coat, because sometime I am goingto return it to its original owner. But first Ishould like you to tell me what it is worth.Can you tell me that? And can youremember never to tell Murchison that Ihave the coat?"

Hedin nodded. "Yes, I can tell you how

much the coat is worth when I see it andfeel it. And I will not tell Murchison. Thatis why I am smart, and others are foolish.Because they tell me what they know, andI listen, and pretty soon I know that, too.But I do not tell what I know, and theycannot listen. So I know what they know,and they do not know what I know, andthat is why I am wise and they don't knowhardly anything at all."

"Everything coming in, and nothing goingout," laughed Wentworth. "That's right,Sven; you've got the system. We willfinish here to-morrow, and then we willreturn to the post, and you can come to mycabin, and I'll show you the fur."

XVEver since the evening in camp whenWentworth had confided in him that hehad the coat, Hedin had been debating hiscourse of procedure. His first impulse hadbeen to denounce Wentworth to his face,to seize the coat and obtain the engineer'sarrest. He knew that Downey expected toreturn to the post—but there was Jean toconsider. Jean—the girl of his fondestdreams, who had forsaken him and fallenunder the spell of the courtly manners ofthe suave soldier-engineer. What wouldJean think? If she loved the man she wouldnever believe in his guilt. She wouldbelieve, with a woman's irrational loyalty,

that he, Hedin, had in some mannercontrived to place the coat in Wentworth'spossession, and he knew that the engineerwould never cease to proclaim that he hadbeen made the dupe of a scheming lover.The case against the man must be plain.When Jean could be shown thatWentworth deliberately endeavored tocheat her father, she would then believethat he stole the coat. She would be savedfrom throwing herself away, and he—Hedin's lips moved, "I will hire out to theCompany, and ask to be sent to thenorthern-most post they've got."

Upon his arrival at the post, Wentworthmade out two reports, one to McNabb andthe other to Orcutt, which he dispatched tothe railway by a Company Indian. Late in

the afternoon, as he was polishing hisinstruments in the little cabin, the figure ofSven Larson appeared in the doorway.The engineer motioned him to enter andclose the door behind him. "Where isMurchison?" he asked, glancing throughthe window toward the post.

"He has gone in a boat with Wawake toset the fish nets."

Without a word Wentworth steppedacross the room, unlocked his trunk, andfrom its depths drew the sable coat thatHedin had last seen upon the shoulders ofJean McNabb as she walked from thestore upon that memorable Saturday. Witha conscious effort he controlled himself,and reaching out his hand took the coat

and carried it to the window. He wasconscious that the engineer's eyes werefastened intently upon him as, inch byinch, he carefully examined the garmentwhose every skin—every hair, almost—was familiar to him. Still holding the coat,he spoke more to himself than toWentworth. "A fine piece. All good darkYakutsk skins. And the matching is good.Only one skin a shade off——"

"What's it worth?" asked Wentworthabruptly. "I don't care a damn about thespecifications. They don't mean anythingto me. I knew it was a fine garment theminute I spotted it, and I knew Hedin waslying when he said it was a marten."

"Hedin?" queried the clerk. "Was that the

name of the princess? She must be a foolto say this is a marten."

"No, no! Hedin is a man. And he is a fool,all right. Fool enough to let a damn foolgirl make a fool of him——"

Wentworth suddenly saw a blinding flashof light. He felt himself falling; then he layvery still as a shower of little star-likesparks flowed upward from a black abyss.

The instant he struck, Hedin realized thefolly of his act. He would have given allhe possessed to have recalled the blow.McNabb had trusted him to carry out acarefully laid plan—and he had failed. Heremembered how the old Scot had toldhim frankly that Jean had fallen in love

with Wentworth, and personally, while hebelieved him to be a good engineer, hewouldn't trust him out of his sight. Andthen he had outlined the scheme he hadlaid for showing him up so that Jeanwould be convinced of his crookedness.And now he had spoiled it all.

The man on the floor stirred restlessly.The thought flashed into Hedin's brain thatthere might still be a chance. If he playedhis part well, it was possible.

The next thing Wentworth knew, SvenLarson was bending over him, bathing hisface with a large red handkerchiefsaturated with cold water. "What in hellhappened?" muttered the man, as hebrushed clumsily at his fast discoloring

eye with his hand. With the help of thefactor's clerk he sat up. "You hit me!Damn you! What did you hit me for?"

"I am sorry I hit you," answered Hedinheavily. "It is in here—the thing thatmakes me strike." He rubbed his foreheadwith his fingers. "It is like many wormscrawling inside my head, when one speaksill of women. My eyes get hot, and the redstreaks come, and then I strike. It was sucha thing that made me strike Pollak. But Ihad a hammer in my hand and I looked andsaw that Pollak was dead, so I ran awayfrom there and climbed onto the ship. I amglad I did not have a hammer in my handto-day."

Wentworth regained his feet and glanced

at his fast closing eye in the bit of mirrorthat hung above his wash bench. "So amI," he seconded, forcing a smile. "Wheredid all this happen? Who was Pollak, andwhere did the ship take you?"

"It was in London in the place of Levinski,the furrier. Pollak and Iworked for him in the sorting of skins. Theship took me to PortNelson. It was a Hudson's Bay Companyship, and I hired out to theCompany and they sent me here to GodsLake. I like it here."

"So that's it, is it? Well, now you listen tome. We'll just forget the black eye andmake a little trade. You keep still aboutthe sable coat, and about hitting me, and

I'll keep still about your killing Pollak.Mind you, if I should tell Murchison youhad killed a man he would send you backto London, and they would hang you."

"Yes, they would hang me because I killedPollak. But I do not tell Murchison thingsthat I know. If you do not tell him I killedPollak, he will not send me back to gethung."

XVIWhen John McNabb read Wentworth'sreport, he reached for his telephone andcalled Detroit. "That you, Beekman?" heasked, recognizing the voice of the seniorpartner of one of the foremost engineeringfirms in the country. "How about you—allset for that Gods Lake job? Just got thepreliminary report. Everything O. K.Plenty of water, plenty of head, and wecan get it without spreading the reservoirover the whole country. Hustle that roadthrough as fast as you can. Hundred milesof it—only about eight or ten miles ofswamp. We can truck the material inquicker than by shipping it clear around

through the Bay and track-lining it up theriver. Few small bridges, and one motorferry. Make it good for heavy work. Put onmen enough to complete the road in amonth at the outside. Most if it will onlybe clearing out timber and stumps. Assoon as the road is done we'll begin toshoot in the cement. Get at it on the jumpnow, an' I'll see you in a day or two."

The days following the return ofWentworth and Hedin from the survey ofthe rapids were busy ones at the little poston Gods Lake. For it was the time of thespring trading, and from far and near camethe men of the outlands, bringing in theirharvest of fur.

The post flag floated gaily at the staff

head, and in the broad clearing about itsbase were pitched the tepees of the furbringers.

Each rising sun brought additionalwilderness gleaners from afar, andadditional children, and many additionalstarving dogs. For these days were thegala days of the Northland; days of highfeast and plenty, of boastings, andrecountings, and the chanting of weirdchants.

The crudity, the primitive savagery of thescene gripped Hedin as nothing hadgripped him before. He was astonishedthat the setting held for him so little ofsurprise. He fitted into the life naturallyand perfectly as though to the manner

born. But his own astonishment was asnothing as compared to the astonishmentof Murchison, who stood close as Hedinbroke open and sorted the packs of fur.Time and again his swift appraisal of askin won a nod of approval from thefactor, who received the skins from hishands and paid for them in tokens of madebeaver.

"I do not understand it," said Murchison,between puffs of his pipe, as at the end ofa day he and Hedin sat in the doorway ofthe trading room and watched the yellowflames from a hundred campfires stab theblack darkness of the night, and sendwavering shadows playing in grotesquepatterns upon the walls of the tepees. Theharsh din of the encampment all but

drowned the factor's words, and Hedinsmiled.

"Do not understand what?" he asked.

"'Tis yourself I do not understand. Ye'venever handled raw fur, yet in the handlingof thirty packs I have not changed therating of a skin. By your own word, 'tisyour first venture into the North, yet sincethe day of your coming ye have behavedlike a man of the North. The Indiansdistrust a new-comer. They are slow toplace confidence in any white man. An'yet, they have accepted your judgment offur without question. An' a good half ofthem ye call by name. 'Tis a combinationunheard of, an' to be believed only whenone sees it."

"And yet it is very simple," explainedHedin. "For years I have studied fur—finished fur—and in the study I have readeverything I could find about fur, from thehabits of the animals up through theirtrapping, and the handling of the skins inevery step of their preparation. And as forthe Indians themselves, I have merelymoved about among them and gotacquainted, as I would do in a city ofwhite men."

Murchison interrupted him with a snort."An' a thousand would try it, an' onesucceed! 'Tis no explanation ye've givenat all. Ye cannot explain it. 'Tis asomething ye have that's bred in the bone.Ye're a born man of the North—an' Godpity ye for the job ye've got! Cooped up in

a store all day with the fanfare of a citydingin' your ears from dawn till midnight,an' beyond! An' what's the good of it?When ye might be living up here in theland that still lays as God made it. TheCompany can use men like you. You couldhave a post of your own in a year's time."

For many minutes Hedin puffed at hispipe. "I am glad to hear that," he said atlength, "for I am not going back."

"Not going back!" cried Murchison. "D'yemean it? An' what about that lass of JohnMcNabb's?"

"That lass of John McNabb's has chosenanother," answered Hedin in a dull tone.

It was the seventh of June whenWentworth had dispatched the Indian withthe reports to McNabb and to Orcutt, andthereafter he settled himself for threeweeks of waiting. The activity at the postbored and annoyed him. He complained ofthe noisy yapping of the night-prowlingdogs, cursed the children that ran againsthis legs in their play, and when necessitycompelled him to cross the encampment,he passed among the tepees, obviouslyavoiding and despising their occupants.

Upon the fifth or sixth day, to rid himselfof annoyance, Wentworth essayed ajourney to the rapids, and because no onecould be spared from the post, he venturedforth alone. When not more than ten milesfrom the post, he turned his head, as he

topped a rock-ribbed ridge for a casualsurvey of the broad brule he had justcrossed. The next instant he brought uprigidly erect as his eye caught a swift blurof motion far back on his trail at theopposite edge of the brule. He lookedagain but could make out only an army ofblackened stumps. Entering the scrub witha vague sense of uneasiness, he circledamong the stunted trees and took up aposition under cover of a graniteoutcropping that gave him a view of hisback trail. He had hardly settled himselfbefore a man stepped from behind a stumpand struck out rapidly upon his trail. Theman was traveling light, apparentlystudying the ground as he walked.Wentworth glanced about him and notedthat the rocky ridge would give the man

scant opportunity for trailing him to hisposition. The figure was coming up theridge now. As it passed a twisted pine,Wentworth got a good look into his face,and the sight of it sent cold shivers up hisspine that prickled uncomfortably at theroots of his hair. For the face was that ofAlex Thumb, and at close rangeWentworth could see that the black eyesglittered evilly. Icy fingers gripped theengineer's heart. He felt suddenly weakand cold.

Raising a shaking hand to his forehead,Wentworth withdrew it wet and glisteningwith sweat. His brain conjured fantasticstories of the powers of the Indian tracker,and fearfully he scanned the rocks overwhich he had come. Suddenly it occurred

to him that if the man were still upon histrail, he would have come up with himbefore this. Evidently the tracker waswasting no time on the broad rocky ridge,but taking it for granted that his quarrywould proceed on his way, figured onpicking up the trail again in the softerground of the next valley; in which case hewould soon discover his error and circleto correct it. Discarding his pack, theterrified man swiftly descended the ridgeand crossed the brule at a run. Gaining theshelter of the forest he paused and lookedback. The wide clearing was tenantless,and regaining his breath, he resumed hisflight, crashing through patches ofunderbrush, and splashing through streamsuntil, just at dusk, the lights of the GodsLake campfires came into view.

Completely done up, he staggered into hiscabin and, closing the door, fell sprawlingupon his bunk, where for an hour he laywhile his overtaxed muscles slowlyregained their strength. Then he stood up,lighted his candle, and proceeded toremove the record of his mad flight fromhis scratched skin and torn clothing.

That evening at supper he was surprisedto find that Downey had returned to thepost. And he wondered if he only fanciedthat the officer eyed him meaningly.

He said nothing of his experience, butthereafter he was content to remain at thepost, never venturing alone beyond theboundaries of the clearing. He becamemore and more nervous with the passing

of the days. One by one, he checked themoff, and during the latter days of June hespent hours pacing restlessly up anddown, or making the round of the clearing,shunned by Indian dogs and Indianchildren, and ignored by their elders. Andalways three questions were uppermost inhis mind: Would Orcutt come? WouldMcNabb come? Would they both come?And finding no answer, he would continuehis restless pacing, or raise the imaginarystakes in his game of solitaire tostupendous proportions.

He became more and more irritable as thetension increased. The breaking of a shoelace called forth a flow of profanity, andwhen the mainspring of his watchsnapped, he hurled the instrument against

the log wall in his senseless rage.

XVIIThe morning of June 29th broughtCameron, armed with credentials whichempowered him to transact any and allbusiness connected with the pulp-woodholdings of the Canadian Wild LandsCompany, Ltd. Murchison introduced himto Wentworth, who insisted that the manshare his cabin.

"So you are McNabb's man?" queriedCameron with a smile, as he swung hispack to the floor and seated himself uponthe edge of a bunk. "Do you know, werather hoped I would not find you here."

"Why?" asked Wentworth, returning thesmile.

"Pulp-wood has gone up since thatcontract was made. If the stuff were torevert to us we could do much better withit."

"How much better?"

Cameron shot a keen glance at hisquestioner. "Well, considerably," heanswered non-committally.

"A dollar an acre?"

"Two of them."

A brief silence ensued, during whichWentworth was conscious that the eyes of

the other were upon him. "Seven dollarsan acre," he said. "Pretty high, isn't it,when you consider the inaccessibility toyour markets?"

Cameron laughed. "Inaccessibility tomarkets don't seem to be worryingMcNabb any. Bringing his paper millsinto the woods seems to have solved thatproblem. I was talking to the engineer incharge of his road construction day beforeyesterday——"

"Engineer in charge of road construction!"exclaimed Wentworth. "What roadconstruction—where?"

"Why, north of here. You knew he wasbuilding a tote-road, didn't you?

I followed the blazed trail clear down tothe rapids of the Shamattawa.And he's pushing it, too—got twenty-fiveor thirty miles of it readyfor traffic."

"No—I didn't know he had begunconstruction," admitted Wentworth. "Iknew there was to be a road—laid it outmyself. But I did not know that the workhad started."

"Well, it has, and we may as wellconclude out business."

"But the options do not expire until noonof July first."

"No, but what is to be gained by waiting

here until the last minute? He intends toclose the deal, so why not get at it? Isuppose you were provided with thenecessary funds to make the initialpayment?"

Wentworth shook his head. "No," heanswered. "In fact I have nothing whateverto do with the transaction. I am anengineer sent up here to locate the millsite, lay out the tote-road, andincidentally, to make a survey ofadditional pulp-wood holdings. I amsurprised to hear that McNabb has begunconstruction of the road."

Cameron stared at the man inastonishment. "What do you mean?" heasked, "that McNabb has added the

expense of road construction to the moneyhe put into the options, without makingprovision for acquiring title to theproperty? That does not sound likeMcNabb—what I've heard of him."

"He has until noon of the first," remindedWentworth.

"Yes, but where is he? He knows theNorth, and the hundred-an'-one things thatcan happen to upset a schedule. If I had asmuch invested in this thing as he has, youmay believe I would have been here withplenty of time to spare."

Wentworth nodded. "So would I. But incase he does not show up, what then? Thefirst man that offers seven dollars an acre,

and is prepared to make a substantialpayment takes the property?"

"Just so. If McNabb, or his representative,is not here on the stroke of twelve, the dayafter to-morrow, with tender of a cashpayment of ten percent. of the purchaseprice as stipulated in his contract, then heis out of the reckoning altogether. But whydo you ask? You speak as though therewere some doubt in your mind as toMcNabb's appearance?"

"You can never tell," answeredWentworth. "He told me he would be herehimself to close the deal at the propertime. If he does not come, it is no affair ofmine, except that I should be out of a job. Ineed the job, so I tipped off his chief rival

capitalist as to the date of expiration, andtold him that in case for any reasonMcNabb fell down on the proposition, hehad better show up here at the post on thefirst day of July with a big bunch of coin."He paused and grinned at Cameron. "I wasmerely playing safe. If McNabb shows up,well and good. If he don't, well and goodagain—I still have a job, and you getseven dollars an acre, instead of five."

"But will the other be here?"

Wentworth shrugged. "That is what I havebeen asking myself for a week. WillMcNabb come? Will Orcutt come? Orwill they both come? In the latter case Imay have let myself in for someunpleasant complications. But I had to

take a chance—to avoid taking a chance."

Cameron laughed. "Let us hope for yoursake that only one of the parties arrives,and for my sake, that it is the rival, for theadditional two dollars an acre will meanan additional million for my company."

XVIIIAlong toward the middle of the followingafternoon Orcutt appeared at the post,accompanied by two guides and twooperatives of a detective agency, whowere ostensibly merely members of aparty of three, but who in reality were theguardians of a certain thick packet of largebills that reposed in the very bottom of awaterproof rucksack.

Into the trading room he stamped, cursingthe black flies and mosquitoes whosecombined and persistent attack had left hisface and neck red and swollen. Hedin wasbehind the counter, and without a hint of

recognition Orcutt inquired thewhereabouts of Wentworth. Upon beinginformed that he was probably in hiscabin, he turned on his heel and stampedfrom the room.

"This is a hell of a country!" he said ingreeting, as Wentworth opened his door toadmit him. "The damned flies andmosquitoes just naturally eat a man alive!"

"It isn't so bad when you get used to it,"laughed Wentworth, and turned toward theman who had risen from his chair. "Mr.Orcutt, this is Mr. Cameron,representative of the Canadian WildLands Company."

"Wild lands is right," grinned Orcutt as he

acknowledged the other's greeting. "Inever saw so much timber or so manyinsects in my life. And now," hecontinued, meeting Cameron's eyes, "I'm abusy man, and the sooner I get out of thisGod-forsaken country, the better I'll likeit. Why can't we go ahead and get thebusiness over with?"

"You forget, Mr. Orcutt, that the McNabboptions do not expire until noon to-morrow," Cameron answered.

Orcutt nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, Isuppose we've got to wait. But as far asthat goes, I don't think we've got to worryany. I always make it my business to keepan eye on the other fellow, and I know tocertainty that John McNabb will not be

here. As a matter of fact, he has mistakenthe day his options expire. He believes hehas until the first of August."

Cameron whistled. "Are you sure?" heasked incredulously. "I don't know himpersonally, but his reputation forshrewdness——"

"And ninety-nine times out of a hundredhe's as shrewd as his reputation calls for,"interrupted Orcutt, "but this is thehundredth time! He is so dead sure he isright that I don't suppose he has examinedhis papers in years. John McNabb makesdamned few mistakes—I've been morethan twenty years waiting for him to makethis one. And now, by God, I've got him!What do you hold the timber at?"

"Seven dollars an acre."

"Make it six, and I'll take it. It ought to beworth something not to have to hunt up abuyer."

"It is," answered Cameron. "But sevendollars is the price. In a month—twomonths it will be eight."

"About two percent down?"

"Ten."

"Ten percent!" raved Orcutt. "Threehundred and fifty thousand dollars! Do youthink a man takes a jaunt into the woodswith any such amount of money as that inhis possession?"

"I think you did. If not, then as you peoplesay in the States, you are out of luck."

"I'll buy an option on it."

Cameron shook his head. "No, the timehas come for a sale. We can't afford tohold timber ourselves, and as to findingpurchasers, I know a dozen men whowould snap it up at seven dollars."

"All right," growled Orcutt. "Make outyour papers and I'll sign 'em. At least, wecan get the routine business all finished to-day so all there will be left to do to-morrow noon will be to sign up and payover the money."

"No harm in that," agreed Cameron. "I

shall proceed at once to draw up acontract of sale. Just a question or twowill give me all the information I need. Inthe first place, is the prospectivepurchaser an individual or a corporation?"

"Corporation. The Eureka PaperCompany."

"And their home office?"

"Orcutt, Canada."

"Orcutt? Where is Orcutt?"

Orcutt smiled. "There isn't any—now. Butthere will be one as soon as we startconstruction of the mill. The enterprisewill be of sufficient magnitude tonecessitate a town at the mill site, and the

name of that town will be Orcutt."

"Very good. I think that is all I need toknow."

"About the subsequent payments——"began Orcutt, but Cameron interruptedhim:

"Let us not discuss that now. The betterway will be for you to allow me to drawup the contract, and then to-morrowmorning we can go over it, clause byclause."

"Good idea," agreed Orcutt. "Come on,Wentworth," and leading the way from thecabin, he spent half an hour strolling aboutamong the tepees viewing their owners,

their lares, penates and offspring as hewould have inspected an exhibit at a fair.Tiring of this, he led the way to a fallenlog at the edge of the clearing, andproduced his cigar case.

"How is everything in Terrace City?"asked Wentworth, as he lighted his cigar.

"Oh, about as usual, I guess. Been sodamned busy getting this paper deal inshape for the last two months that I haven'thad much time to keep track of things. Bythe way, you remember Hedin—that clerkin old John McNabb's fur department?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Well, old John trusted him to the limit—

made a kind of a pet of him—and whatdoes the fellow do but slip up to the storeone night and steal a Russian sable coat,worth somewhere around thirty thousand.Then the damned fool, instead of gettingout of the country, stayed right on the job.Of course old John missed the coat nextday, and the night watchman told ofHedin's visit to the store."

"Did he confess?" asked Wentworth ashade too eagerly.

"Confess nothing! He swears he'sinnocent. But there's nothing to it. They'vegot the goods on him—everything but thecoat. They can't find that, and they neverwill. I got the story from Hicks, the policechief. Old John had him arrested and he

knocked Hicks down and got away. Theycaught him again, and Judge Emersonfixed his bail at ten thousand. Someonefurnished the bail that same night, andHedin has skipped out, slick and clean.They sure put one over on McNabb—tenthousand for bail, twenty thousand todivide between them, and McNabb isholding the bag."

"And we'll leave him holding the bagagain," grinned Wentworth.

"That's what we will. He's been a hardman to down. I don't mind saying it to you,I've laid for him ever since I've been inTerrace City, and I've never been able toget him. Several times I've thought I hadhim, but he always managed to wriggle out

someway. But now he seems to have letdown all of a sudden. Either his luck hasdeserted him, or he has begun to break."

"You are pretty sure he will not be hereto-morrow?"

Orcutt nodded. "Dead sure. You wereright about his believing that he has till thefirst of August on those options. Ioverheard him telling Bronson on the golflinks that he had to be in Canada onAugust first, and that he would leave aboutthe middle of July."

XIXAfter breakfast on the morning of the firstof July, Orcutt and Cameron repaired tothe cabin where, with the rough pine tablelittered with maps, they discussed theterms and conditions of the contract ofsale. While Wentworth, palpably nervous,paced the clearing; his eyes were upon thetrails that led into the forest, and out uponthe lake, for a sign of a canoe from thesouthward.

When at last the pros and cons had allbeen threshed over, clauses inserted, andclauses struck out, Orcutt drew from hispocket a heavy gold watch, and snapping

it open, detached it from its chain and laidit upon the table between them. "Half pasteleven," he announced. "I suppose youinsist upon waiting until the uttermostminute ticks to its close."

"Yes," answered Cameron. "McNabb'soptions hold good until twelve o'clock."

"I am anxious to get back," said Orcutt,offering his cigar case, "but I don't want toreturn without having a look at the millsite. How far is it from here?"

"About forty miles. If you leave here rightafter noon you will make it before noonto-morrow."

"I'll do it, and return the following day."

The two men smoked with their eyes uponthe minute hand that slowly crept towardtwelve. Now and then Cameron's glancestrayed through the window toward thetrading post, as though he half expected tosee John McNabb step to its door.

"Twelve o'clock!" announced Orcutt, in avoice that held a ring of triumph. "And Idon't mind telling you that, sure as I wasthat McNabb would not be here, I ambreathing easier now than I was twominutes ago."

Leaning forward, Cameron verified theannouncement, and dipping the pen in ink,he signed the contract and passed theinstrument across to Orcutt, who hastilyaffixed his signature. Then from the fat

bundle upon which his elbow had rested,the banker removed the wrapping andcounted out three hundred and fiftythousand dollars in gold certificates offive- and ten-thousand dollardenominations. Cameron recounted, andreceipted for the money, and afterdepositing it in his pocket he extended hishand. "I congratulate you, Mr. Orcutt, uponyour purchase, and trust that you havelaunched upon an enterprise that willprove immensely profitable to yourselfand your associates. But for the life of me,I cannot understand McNabb's failure toput in an appearance."

Orcutt's eyes flashed. "Nor can I, excepton the theory that he is breaking—losinghis grip on affairs. For years we have

been business rivals, and for years I havetried to get the upper hand of him, but untilthis moment I have always failed. It willbe a different story from now on," headded vindictively. "Never again will hehave the old confidence, the nerve andsureness that has been his chief asset. JohnMcNabb is done. But I'm wasting time. Ishould right now be on my way to the millsite."

"You will wait for dinner?"

"No. We can eat as we travel," heanswered impatiently. "Good-by!" Andstepping to the door, he called toWentworth and the guides andplainclothes-men who waited beside thedoor.

"Come on! We strike out at once for themill site. The deal is closed, and we'rewasting time. We've got a forty mile hikeahead of us! We'll snatch a lunch later. Bythe way, Cameron, you may not be herewhen I return, so I will inform you nowthat until further notice Mr. Wentworthwill be our accredited representative inthe field. If anything should come up thatneeds my attention, take it up with him."

"Just put it on paper, Mr. Orcutt," advisedthe canny Scot, and with a show ofimpatience Orcutt scribbled thememorandum.

"Where are we going?" asked Wentworth.

"To the mill site. I want to look it over

and return here by the day after to-morrow. All ready?"

The guides swung their packs to theirbacks and struck into the timber, followedclosely by the others of the party.

The following day, Orcutt and Wentworthstood at the head of the rapids and Orcuttlistened as the engineer, with the aid of hisfield notes and maps, explained theconstruction of the dam, and roughlyindicated the contour of the reservoir."But what's this line—the dotted one, thatcrosses the river just above us?"

"That is our western property line. Itcrosses about a mile above here, and weare standing about the same distance

above the mill site."

"Do you mean that we own only a mile oftimber on the big river above this point?"

"Just about a mile. Our property runs along way up Gods River, and both sidesof the Shamattawa below the dotted line."

Orcutt studied the map for a moment."Who owns the land above here?" heasked sharply.

"The Hudson's Bay Company on the northside, and the Government on the south."

"Well, what in hell is to prevent someone—McNabb, for instance—from buying upthat land and starting operations above us?Even if they didn't put in a dam they could

raise the devil with us by driving theirstuff through. John McNabb knows everytrick of the logging game, and when hefinds out what has happened he'll go thelimit to buck us."

Wentworth considered. "I guess he coulddo that, all right. We would have to let hisstuff through—"

"I'll fix him!" cried Orcutt. "I'll beat him toit! Where do we do business with theGovernment and the Hudson's BayCompany?"

"With the Government in Ottawa, and theCompany in Winnipeg."

"Hell's bells!" cried Orcutt. "That means

we'll be gallivanting all over Canada forthe next week or ten days. Well, it can't behelped. I know John McNabb well enoughnot to leave any loop-hole for him to takeadvantage of." He called to the guides."Hey, you Injuns! What's the quickest wayto the railroad?"

The guides pointed due north. "Mebbe-sowan hondre mile," announced one.

"But," cried Wentworth, "we're goingback by way of the post, aren't we?"

"We're going to hit for the railway thequickest way God will let us!"

"But, I—I left something—that is, I havenothing to travel in but these field clothes,

and they're shockingly soiled andtattered."

"Soiled and tattered—hell! What's that gotto do with saving years of trouble at themill? Maybe you ain't as pretty as you'dlike to be—but, you've got enough on sothey can't arrest you——"

Wentworth felt a decidedly uncomfortablethrill at the word "arrest." He was thinkingof a certain Russian sable coat that lay inhis trunk at the cabin, and guarded fromprying eyes by only a flimsy trunk lock.He thought, also, of Downey—andwondered. He would have given much tohave returned to that cabin, but a singleglance into Orcutt's face stilled anythought of further objection, and he

reluctantly acquiesced.

"We can follow the line of the tote-road,"he said. "I blazed it to the railway, and bythe way, Cameron said that McNabb hadalready started construction—had twentyor thirty miles of it completed severaldays ago."

"Started construction?" cried Orcutt."Construction of what?"

"The tote-road. He figured it would bequicker and cheaper to haul his materialfor the mill in from the new railway thanto ship by boat around through the Bay toPort Nelson, and then drag it up the riverby scow."

"And you mean to say he's started thework? Laid out good money on top ofwhat his options cost him—and forgot totake up the options?"

"That's just what he's done, according toCameron."

Orcutt burst out laughing. "We'll let himgo ahead and build the road," he cried."Every dollar he puts in will be ninetycents saved for us. It may be two or threeweeks before he finds out that he has lostthe timber, and possibly the road will becompleted by that time. Then I'll buy it infor almost nothing. McNabb has certainlygone fluie! And in the meantime we willuse his road to haul in our own material.I'll wire Strang to begin hustling the stuff

through."

XXAfter watching Orcutt depart, Cameronfolded his maps and his papers andwalked around to the trading room whereMurchison and his clerk were comparingthe skins of a silver gray and a black crossfox.

The clerk greeted him with a smile. "Justthe man I wanted to see, Mr.Cameron. In fact I was about to go insearch of you."

Cameron stared at him in surprise. Duringthe day or two he had spent at the post, hehad come to regard the clerk as a stupid,

morose individual, whose only excuse forexistence, as Murchison had said, was hisknowledge of fur. But here was thisunkempt clerk actually smiling, andaddressing him as a man of affairs. Heglanced inquiringly at Murchison beforereplying. "And why should you go insearch of me?"

"As accredited representative of theCanadian Wild Lands Company, I havebusiness to transact with you." Hedinstepped forward and extended a paper. "Irepresent John McNabb."

"John McNabb!" cried Cameron, staring athim as though he had taken leave of hissenses. "You mean——"

Hedin interrupted him, speaking crisply. "Imean that this paper, as you will note, is apower of attorney which gives meauthority to transact any and all businessfor Mr. McNabb, concerning the purchaseof certain pulp-wood lands."

"Dut, man!" cried Cameron excitedly.

Ignoring the interruption, Hedin continued."And I hereby, in the presence of Mr.Murchison, tender payment of ten percent,of the purchase price, as provided in theterms of the option contract."

"But you're too late!" roared Cameron."McNabb's options expired at noon! Theland has been sold and payment accepted!Good Lord, man! Do you mean that

McNabb sent you up here to close thedeal, and you deliberately neglected toattend to it until the options had expired?"

"Too late?" smiled Hedin. "What do youmean, too late? The options do not expireuntil noon," he paused and glanced up atthe clock that ticked upon the wall, "and itstill lacks twenty-five minutes of twelve."

Cameron stared at the clock. "It is a trick!"he cried. "You turned the clock back!What time have you, Murchison?"

The factor meticulously consulted hiswatch. "Twenty-four minutes to twelve,"he announced.

"You are into it, too!"

Murchison smiled. "Look at your ownwatch," he suggested. "What time haveyou got?"

Cameron drew out his timepiece andstared at it blankly. "He laid his watch onthe table between us," he said in abewildered tone, "and not until the handsreached twelve were the papers signedand the money paid."

"What do you mean?" asked Hedin. "Thepapers signed, and the money paid?"

"Why Orcutt, president of the EurekaPaper Company, bought the land afterMcNabb's options expired. Wentworth ishis representative."

"But McNabb's options have not expired,"insisted Hedin. "His payment has beentendered in the presence of a witnessbefore the time of their expiration. Anysale or contract entered into with Orcutt oranyone else concerning title to these landsis, of course, void."

Cameron continued to stare at his watch."I do not understand it," he muttered.

"I think I do," offered Hedin. "Was itOrcutt's watch you consulted?"

"Yes, he laid it on the table, and wewatched the hands mark off the time."

"And you were an hour fast! Orcuttcarried Terrace City time, which is an

hour faster than standard. It is the socalled daylight saving plan adopted bymany cities and villages in the UnitedStates by act of council. All that, ofcourse, has no bearing on McNabb'soptions, so there is nothing for you to dobut accept payment and return Orcutt hismoney."

"But you were here all the time!" criedCameron. "And you must have knownwhat was going on. Why didn't you makeyourself known? Why did you let me goahead with Orcutt? We could have had thebusiness over and done with two days ago—and no complications."

Hedin laughed. "You will have to take thatup with Mr. McNabb. I was following out

instructions to the letter. And thoseinstructions were very specific about notclosing the deal within half an hour of theexpiration of the options."

"But what was his idea?"

"As I said before, you will have to askhim. He had a reason, you may be sure. Ihave noticed in my association with JohnMcNabb that there is generally a reasonfor the things that he does—though inmany instances the reason is beyond me."

Cameron's exasperation at the sudden turnof events subsided. He even managed asmile. "He was within his rights," headmitted, "and as you say, he must havehad a reason. But I don't understand it.

Wentworth was McNabb's man too—untilhe swung over to Orcutt. Yet he neversuspected you were anything butMurchison's clerk."

Hedin laughed. "The reputation of being afool doesn't hurt anyone.It is rather an advantage at times."

"You have played your part well,"admitted Cameron. "And McNabb hasplayed his part well—whatever that partis. Orcutt said he was losing his grip, wasin his dotage. Well, he will not be the firstman that has had to change his mind. Hehas gone to inspect the mill site and willreturn day after to-morrow. Wentworthaccompanied him. I imagine we will havean interesting half-hour when they find out

that the deal is off."

The formalities of payment were soonover with, and the moment they werecompleted, Hedin despatched a messengerwith a telegram to his employer.

When John McNabb received the messagehe grinned broadly, and for severalminutes sat at his desk and stabbed at hisblotter with his pencil point. "So, Orcutt,Wentworth & Company set out to downpoor old John McNabb," he muttered. "Ikind of figured rope was all Wentworthwanted to hang himself with—an' rope'scheap. But Orcutt an' his Eureka PaperCompany—now he must have gone toquite a little bother, first an' last, an' someexpense. Too bad! But I won't worry

about that—he ought to 'tend to hisbankin'. Guess I'll be startin' North inabout ten days."

A week later McNabb got another wirefrom the engineer in charge of his roadconstruction. As he read and reread it, aslow smile trembled upon his lips andwidened into a broad grin.

"Sixty-five miles of road completed.Eureka Paper Company cement andmaterial piling up at road head. Have theirown trucks. Shall we let them use road?"

The grin became an audible chuckle. "Idon't understand it. Orcutt must havecleared out so quick he don't know thedeal is off." Then he called a messenger

and sent two telegrams. The first inanswer to the one just received.

"Double your force and hurry road tocompletion in shortest possible time.Allow all Eureka Paper Company goodsto be delivered as fast as received.Facilitate delivery same to mill site inevery way possible."

The other telegram was to the home officeof the engineering firm and read:

"Hold off on purchase of material for milluntil further notice.Writing full particulars."

Then he closed his desk and went homewhere, a few minutes later, his daughter

found him packing his outfit in a wellworn duffle bag.

XXIEver since Jean's outburst of passion uponthe day of Hedin's arrest, a certainconstraint had settled upon father anddaughter that amounted, at times, to anactual coldness. Neither had mentionedthe name of Hedin in the other's hearing,but each evening at dinner, which was theonly meal at which they met, the studiedsilence with which the girl devotedherself to her food bespoke plainer thanwords that the thought of him was neverout of her head.

So it was with some measure of surprisethat Old John looked up from his packing

at the girl's question: "Where are yougoing, Dad?"

"North, into Canada. I've business therethat needs my attention."

"Will you take me with you?"

"Take ye with me!" he cried inastonishment. "An' what would ye be doin'in the wild country, with the black flies an'mosquitoes in the height of their glory.They'd eat ye alive! An' the trailin'—why,ye've never been outside a town in ye'relife!"

"And that is just why I want to go outsideone!" answered the girl. "Please, Dad,take me with you. I can keep up on the

trail, really I can. Don't I play golf, andtennis, and paddle a canoe, and doeverything that anyone can do to keepthemselves in shape? I bet right now I canwalk as far as you can in the woods or outof the woods. And as for flies andmosquitoes, they won't eat me any worsethan they will you, and if worse comes toworst, I can plaster myself with thatsmelly old dope you carry in that bottle—but I'd almost rather be eaten."

Old John grinned. "Well, I don't know.Maybe the trip would do ye good. An'when ye get there ye may not find it sodull. Wentworth is there an' he'll prob'lyshow ye around."

"I don't need Captain Wentworth to show

me around," she replied, and McNabbwas not slow to note her tone. "Of allpeople I ever met, I think he's the biggestbore! I don't see what you hired him for."

Old John stared at her in amazement."Why, it was on your ownrecommendation—that, an' the fact that Ifound out he done some really good workon the Nettle River project. But you askedme in so many words to give him a job!"

"Well, if I did, I was an idiot," shereplied. "And I guess you'll wish younever hired him. You'll find you've made agrand mess of things!" A high-pitched,nervous quality had crept into the girl'svoice, and McNabb saw that she was verynear to tears. "Do you know what they're

saying?" she cried. "They're saying thatOskar has jumped ten-thousand-dollar bailthat some friend put up for him! They'reliars, and I hate them! Wherever he is,he'll come back at the proper time. He'llshow them—and he'll show you, too!"With an effort, the girl steadied hertrembling voice. "And when he does comeback, he'll find he's got one friend—andI'll—I'll make up for the rest. I'm going toget ready now. I want to get away from itall. When do we start?"

"To-night," answered old John, "on thelate train." And when the door closedbehind his daughter, he grinned andwinked at himself in the mirror.

When old John McNabb and his daughter

stepped off the sagging combination coachat the siding which was the northern endof the new tote-road, the first man theysaw was Orcutt, resplendent in stripedmackinaw, Stetson hat, and high-lacedboots. As the banker came toward them,McNabb stared about him in evidentperplexity, his glance shifting from thepiles of tarpaulin-covered material, to theloaded trucks that with a clash and grindof gears were just pulling out upon thenew tote-road that stretched awaybetween the tall balsam spires to thesouthward.

"Hello, John," Orcutt greeted, lifting hisStetson in acknowledgment of thepresence of Jean. "Well, what do youthink of it?"

McNabb continued to stare about him. "Idon't seem to quite get the straight of it,"he said slowly. "Eureka Paper Company,"he read the legend emblazoned upon thetrucks and tarpaulins scattered all over theforeground. "What does it mean, Orcutt?An' what in the devil are you doin' here?An' what business have those trucks got onmy tote-road?"

Orcutt laughed, a nasty, gloating laugh, ashe rubbed his hands together after themanner of one performing an ablution. "Itmeans, John," he answered, in a voice ofoily softness, "that at last I have caughtyou napping. The Eureka Paper Companyis my company, and the pulp-wood thatyou held options on is my pulp-wood. I'vebeen waiting a long time for this day—

more than twenty years. It's only fair togive the devil his due, John—you've beenshrewd. Time and again I almost had you,but you always managed somehow toelude me. There have been times when Icould have murdered you, gladly. Itwouldn't have been so bad if you hadgloated openly when you put one over onme, but your devilish way of apparentlyignoring the fact—of acting as thoughoutwitting me were too trifling anoccurrence to even notice, at times hasnearly driven me crazy—that, and thatdamned secret laughter I see in your eyeswhen we meet. Oh, I've waited a long timefor my day—but now my day has come!And to think how nearly I missed it! I goback in an hour on the same train thatbrought you in."

McNabb had listened in silence to thetirade. "But I—I don't understand it. Myoptions——"

"Your options," interrupted Orcutt, and hisvoice rasped harsh, "expired at noon onthe first day of July. At one minute pasttwelve on that day, the property passedinto the hands of the Eureka PaperCompany of which I am president. Isigned the contract and paid over themoney myself at Gods Lake Post."

"Was it July?" mumbled McNabb,apparently dazed. "But—there wasWentworth. He had the papers. Surely hemust have known."

Orcutt laughed. "Yes. Wentworth knew.

He knew the day you hired him.And he knew that you thought you had untilthe first of August. It wasWentworth that tipped the deal off to me."

"But—why should he have double-crossed me?"

"Mere matter of business," replied Orcutt."Figure it out for yourself. If he stayedwith you the best he could expect wouldbe a fair salary. With us he was inposition to dictate his own terms. Theywere stiff terms, too, for Wentworth isshrewd. But he has been worth all he cost.He is now secretary of the Eureka, and avery considerable stockholder."

McNabb was silent for what seemed a

long time. When at length he spoke, it wasin a voice that sounded dull and tired."But, Orcutt, the tote-road is mine. I builtit. It cost me a hundred thousand dollars—that road did. If you hold the property theroad is no good to me, and it is valuableto you. Will you buy it?"

"Sure, I'll buy it. I'll buy it for just what Ifigure it is worth to me. It cost you athousand dollars a mile. It's worth ahundred to me. Ten thousand dollars is mylimit. Take it or leave it. Ten cents on thedollar, John; you may as well save whatyou can out of the wreck."

"Is that the best you can do by me? Man,it's robbery! I can't afford to lose ninetythousand. It'll cripple me. An' I stood to

make a million!"

"Cripple you, eh? Well, it won't hurt myfeelings to see you limping.That's the very best we can do. You bettertake it, and go back toselling your thread. You're getting too oldfor real business,John—you're done!"

McNabb nodded slowly. "Aye, maybeye're right, maybe ye're right." The voicesounded old, tired. "I'll let ye know in afew days, Orcutt. Now that I'm up here Ithink I'll slip down for a visit with my oldfriend Murchison. He's the factor at GodsLake. We were boys together, an' togetherwe worked for the Company. He's a frienda man can trust. An' I feel the need of a

friend. Ye'll not begrudge us a ride downon one of ye're trucks, will ye, Orcutt?"

Before Orcutt could reply Jean, who hadbeen a silent listener to all that hadpassed, leaped forward and faced Orcuttwith blazing eyes. "You sneak!" she cried."And all the time I thought you and Mrs.Orcutt were my friends! And all the timeyou were lying in wait to ruin an old man!You couldn't fight him in the open! Youwere afraid! But my father is used tofighting men—not cowardly thieves! Andas for riding in one of your trucks, I woulddie first!" She turned to McNabb. "Comeon, Dad, we'll walk!"

"But, daughter, it's a hundred miles!"

"I don't care if it is five hundred miles! I'llwalk, or crawl if I have to, rather thanaccept anything from that—thatrattlesnake! See, there is a little store. Wecan lay in some provisions for the trip andit will be loads of fun. It will remind youof your old days in the North."

The girl took his arm, and the two turnedabruptly away, leaving Orcutt standing inhis tracks watching their departure withsomewhat of a grin.

As they came out of the store with bulgingpack sacks, they saw him step into thestuffy coach, and a moment later theywatched the wheezy little engine puffimportantly down the track. Then, side byside they stepped onto the tote-road and

were swallowed up between the twowalls of towering balsams and spruces.

A mile farther on, a Eureka truck passedthem, and the girl, scorning the driver'soffer of a lift, brushed its dust from herclothing as though it were the touch ofsome loathsome thing.

That night they camped on a littlehardwood knoll beside a stream, wellback from the road. Old John seemed tohave regained his usual spirits, and to herutter astonishment the girl surprised a grinupon his face as he put up the shelter. Hebuilt a fire, and producing hook and linefrom his pocket, jerked half a dozen troutfrom the water, which were soon sizzlingin the pan from which rose the odor of

frying bacon.

"Do you know, Dad," began the girl, afterthe dishes had been washed and the manhad thrown an armful of green brackenupon the fire to smudge away themosquitoes. "Do you know I think you aresimply wonderful?" She was leaningagainst his knee, and her eyes looked intohis.

"Tush, girl, what ails ye?" said the man,removing his pipe to send a cloud of bluesmoke to mingle with the gray of thesmudge.

"I mean it, Daddy, dear. You are justwonderful. Oh, I know how disappointedyou are. I know just how it hurts to have a

man like Orcutt get the best of you. I sawit in your face."

"Did Orcutt see it, d'ye think?"

"Of course he did—and he just gloated."

"U-m-m," said McNabb, and his lipstwitched at the corners.

"And on top of all that you can smile!"

"Yup, isn't it funny? I can even grin."

"But, Dad, will it—ruin you? Not that Icare a bit, about the money. We can bejust as happy, maybe happier, without it.I'm not the little fool you think I am. I havealways spent a lot of money because I hadit to spend, but if we didn't have it, I could

be just as happy making what little I didhave go as far as it could. Maybe we'llhave to come up here and live in a cabin. Ilove the North already, and I've hardlyseen it. We could have a cabin in thewoods, and get some furniture when wecould afford it, and then we could arrangeit so cozily. Really, I would be crazyabout it. And we could have trout everyday, and wild ducks, and venison. If wecould afford a screened porch we couldeat and sleep on it, and in the living roomwe could have a table——"

"Good Lord, girl, arrangin' furnitureagain!" cried old John. "An I'd come homesome night an' break my neck before Icould find the matchbox. If we was to livein a cabin I'd spike the stuff to the floor!

But—maybe it won't be so bad as allthat."

"I've been hateful to you of late, Dad,because of—of Oskar. But really, youmade an awful mistake. I should think youwould know that he couldn't have takenthat coat. It isn't in him!"

"I never said he ate it," grinned the man.

"Oh, don't joke about it! Dad, I loveOskar. He's—oh, he's everything a manshould be, and it hurts me so to have themsaying he is a thief. He isn't a thief! Andthe time will come when he will prove it.Promise me, Dad, that when he doesprove it, you will make every effort inyour power to right the wrong you have

done him."

Old John's hand rested for a moment uponthe girl's head. "I promise all that, girl.Surely ye know I can be just. If it is as yesay, I'll more than make it up to him. Ipromise ye, his name shall not suffer."

"I love you, Dad. I know you are just—butyou're a hard-hearted old Scot, just thesame. You don't make many mistakes, butyou have made two—about Oskar, andabout hiring that Wentworth. I told youyou'd be sorry."

"Well, maybe ye're right," and JohnMcNabb never blinked an eye.

"See, didn't I just say you were hard-

headed? You won't admit you made amistake even after what Orcutt told you to-day. But tell me honestly, Dad, are youruined?"

"Well, we won't worry about that, lass.D'ye hear the hoot-owl? I like to hear themof nights. I found one's nest once an' I tookthe three eggs out an' slipped them under ahen that Mother McFarlane had settin'. Itwas at Long Lake post, Mother McFarlanewas the factor's wife, an' I was his clerk.The eggs had been sat on a long time an'they hatched out before the hen eggs. Yeshould have seen Mother McFarlane'sface when she caught sight of themchickens! It was one of the best jokes Iever made."

"And here you ought to be as solemn as anowl yourself, and you are talking of jokes.I don't understand you at all."

"Maybe I should be an owl. D'ye notice inthe stories, they make theScots say, 'hoot'? But about Wentworth,now. If we should meet upwith him, don't let on ye know anythingabout my deal with Orcutt.Treat him nice an' pleasant——"

"After what he has done to you?" cried thegirl, her eyes flashing.

"Just so. Be nice an' friendly to him—d'yeknow what a poker face is?"

"Why, of course! Everybody plays poker

in Terrace City."

"Mind ye, ye're settin' in a big game rightnow——"

"You mean," cried the girl, "that there's achance? A chance to beatOrcutt yet? Oh, if you only could!"

"Well, we're still settin' in the game—mean' you, daughter. An' let's don't neitherone of us throw down our hand till afterthe draw."

XXIIToward evening of the fourth day afterleaving the railway, the two stepped intothe broad clearing that surrounded theGods Lake post.

"Oh, real Indians!" cried Jean, as shecaught sight of the dozen or more tepeesthat were pitched between the lake and thelow log trading post.

"Aye, real Injuns, lass—an' good it is tosee them again. It will be the remnant ofthe spring tradin'. 'Tis about over now, butalways there's some of the Injuns willhang around the post all summer."

"They're cooking over open fires, andlook, there comes one from the lake withsome fish! Oh, don't you just love it?"

They were crossing the clearing, and oldJohn glanced at his daughter withapproval. "Aye, I love it. An' proud I amthat you love it, too. Ye've taken to theNorth like a duck takes to water. Ye'vetrailed like a real sourdough, an' never aword of the hard work an' the discomfort.'Tis born in ye, lass—the love of the bush—an' I'm glad. I've come to know yebetter the last four days than I have intwenty-one years of school, an' dancingan' all the flibberty-jibbitin' nonsense yecarry on."

They had reached the door of the trading

room, and the man interrupted her laughingreply. "Wait ye here a minute while I seeif Dugald is inside."

Oskar Hedin paused in the act of puttingthe finishing touches on the edge of hisbelt ax, and as John McNabb entered theroom, he rose hastily to meet him.

"Where's Murchison?" asked thenewcomer, and Hedin noted that noslightest hint of recognition flickered inhis employer's eyes.

Repressing the desire to laugh, heanswered in the slow, dull-witted mannerof Sven Larsen. "He is in there," pointingto the door of the factor's room.

"Tell him to come out here," commandedMcNabb brusquely.

"Do you want to see him?"

"What in the devil d'ye think I'm waitin'here for? Hurry, now, an' don't be standin'there gawpin'."

Hedin grinned broadly as he enteredMurchison's door, and a moment laterMcNabb's hands were gripped by the twohands of the factor. "It's glad I am to seeye, John. An' how does it feel to get homeonce more?"

"Ye'll be knowin' yourself how it feels toa man that's been thirty years out of thebush. But where's Hedin?"

"He'll be here directly," answeredMurchison. "John, I want ye to meet myclerk, Sven Larsen. He's the best clerk Iever had."

McNabb glanced into the bearded facethat blinked stupidly at him. "Ye haven'tbe'n over favored with clerks, I'd say,Dugald. But how are ye fixed forquarters?"

Murchison laughed. "I guess we can rig upa bunk for ye, John."

"It ain't myself I was thinkin' about. It's thelass. She's had four pretty hard days on thetrail, an' she'd be the better for acomfortable bunk."

"The lass!" exclaimed Murchison.

"Jean! Here!" Strong fingers grippedMcNabb's arm, and he stared inastonishment into the face of Sven Larsen.The loose-lipped, vapid expression wasgone, and the blue-gray eyes stared intohis own with burning intensity.

"You don't mean——? Why, Oskar lad!"

"Sh—sh. But she mustn't know! Promiseme—both of you! She will be going to bedearly, and after supper I'll see you at thelanding."

McNabb studied the face quizzically. "Yefooled me, all right, but I'm doubtin' yecan fool Jean."

"At least, I can try," answered the clerk."I'll see you at supper," and withoutwaiting for a reply, he ascended theladder that led to the fur loft.

"Where is the lass? Fetch her in, John."Murchison's eyes twinkled as he steppedcloser. "He thinks he's lost her," hewhispered. "But tell me, John, d'ye thinkthe lass cares for this damnedWentworth?"

"Who can say?" grinned McNabb. "'Twillnot be long now till we can see forourselves," and stepping to the door hecalled Jean, who was trying to makefriends with a group of Indian children.

"She'll have my room," said Murchison, as

he followed McNabb to the door. "An' nobunk, either, but a brass bed that I boughtin Winnipeg out of respect for my oldbones an' the weakening flesh that covers'em. You an' me will pitch a tent, an' 'twillbe the first time in many years, John,we've slept under canvas together."

The next moment he was welcoming thegirl with a deference he would havescarce accorded to royalty.

XXIIISupper over, McNabb left Jean to beentertained by Murchison, and strolleddown to the landing to join Hedin. "Well,how's everything comin'?" he asked, as heseated himself beside the clerk upon adamaged York boat.

"I wired you that the deal was closed, andthe pulp-wood is safe. But there have beencomplications that you could neversuspect."

"So?"

"Yes. In the first, you were dead right

about Wentworth—about not trusting him.And you knew who he expected to let inon the deal?"

"Why, Orcutt, of course," repliedMcNabb. "I know all about that.That's why I told ye to hold off till the lastminute about closing."

"But you couldn't have foreseen that Orcuttwouldn't bother to set his watch back, orthat they would use his watch inconcluding their deal."

McNabb shook his head. "No, an' I don'tknow yet what ye're talkin' about. All Iknow is, that Orcutt thinks he has got titleto the pulp-wood. We met him back at therailway, an' he took pains to tell me about

it. What puzzles me is, how did ye work itso that after two weeks have gone by hestill thinks he owns the timber?"

"I didn't work it. He came up here on thetwenty-ninth and waited around until thefirst of July. Then he and Cameron wentover to the shack and concluded the deal,using Orcutt's watch, which was TerraceCity time—an hour fast. Then Orcutt andWentworth hit straight for the mill site,saying they were coming back in twodays. Half an hour later I calledCameron's attention to the error in timeand took up the options for you. After thepapers were signed he decided to wait forthe return of Orcutt and Wentworth. Butthey didn't return. He waited for a week,and then went to look for them. They

haven't shown up yet."

Old John was chuckling aloud. "An' theEureka Paper Company's stuff is rollin'down my tote-road as fast as they canunload it."

"Do you mean they've started to haul thematerial for their mill?"

"Aye, not only material but machinery."

"But what's become of Cameron?"

"Losh, lad, I don't even know the man. Wewon't worry about him."

"But why did you want to put off theclosing till the last minute?"

McNabb grinned. "Why did you let Jeanwear the sable coat?" he asked in return."'Twas only to string Orcutt along, thinkin'he had me bested till the last minute—thenbring him up with a jolt. I didn't know itwould work out so lucky for me."

"How do you mean—lucky?"

"You wait an' see," grinned McNabb."D'ye know, Orcutt offered me tenthousand dollars for my tote-road? An' itcost me a hundred thousand!"

A long silence followed McNabb'swords, during which Hedin cleared histhroat several times. The older mansmoked his pipe, and cast covert glancesout of the tail of his eye. Finally he spoke.

"What's on ye're mind, lad? Speak out."

Hedin hesitated a moment and plungedinto the thing he had dreaded to say. "Mr.McNabb, I've been up here several monthsnow—" he hesitated, and as the othermade no comment, proceeded. "I havecome to like the country. It—I don't think—that is, I don't want to go back toTerrace City. You can understand, can'tyou? You have lived in the North. I wasn'tborn to be a clerk. I hate it! My father wasa real man. He lived, and he died like aman. This is a man's country. I am going tostay." Hedin had expected an outburst oftemper, and had steeled himself towithstand it. Instead, Old John McNabbnodded slowly as he continued to puff athis pipe.

"So ye're tired of workin' for me. Ye wantto quit——"

"It isn't that. I would rather work for youthan any man I ever knew. You have beenlike a father to me. You will never knowhow I have appreciated that. I know itseems ungrateful. But the North has gotme. I never again could do your workjustice. My heart wouldn't be in my work.It would be here."

"An' will ye keep on workin' forMurchison? What will he pay ye?"

"It isn't the pay. I don't care about that. Ihave no one but myself to think of. AndMurchison said that with my knowledge offur the Company would soon give me a

post of my own."

"But—what of the future, lad?"

Hedin shrugged. "All I ask of the future,"he answered, and McNabb noted just atouch of bitterness in the tone, "is that Imay live it in the North."

"H-m-m," said McNabb, knocking theashes from his pipe, "I guess the North hasgot ye, lad. An' I'm afraid it's got Jean.The lass has been rantin' about it eversince we left the railway. But—who isthat? Yonder, just goin' into the post? Myold eyes ain't so good in the twilight."

"Wentworth!" exclaimed Hedin, leaping tohis feet. "Come on! The time has come for

a showdown!"

Hedin's voice rasped harsh, and McNabbnoticed that the younger man's fists wereclenched as he laid a restraining handupon his arm. "Take it easy lad," he said."Maybe it's better we should play awaitin' game."

"Waiting game!" cried Hedin. "I've beenplaying a waiting game for months—andI'm through. Good God, man! Do you thinkmy nerves are of iron? I love Jean—loveher as it is possible for a man to love onewoman. I have loved her for years, and Iwill always love her. And I've lost her.That damned cad with his airs and hisgraces has won her completely away. But,by God, he'll never have her! I'll show

him up in his true colors——"

"An' with him out of the way, lad, ye'llthen——"

"With him out of the way she'll despiseme!" interrupted Hedin. "She will nevermarry him out of loyalty to you, when shefinds out he has tried to knife you. Ihaven't told you all I know—when hefalls, he'll fall hard! But I know whatwomen think, and I know she'll despiseme for disguising myself and spying onhim."

"If ye know what women think, lad, ye'rethe wisest man God has yet made, an' assuch I'm proud to know ye."

"It is no time to joke," answered Hedinbitterly. "That's a thing I've never beenable to fathom, why you always joke in theface of a serious situation, and then turnaround and raise hell over some trivialmatter that don't amount to a hill of beans."

McNabb grinned. "Do I?" he asked."Well, maybe ye're right. But listen, lad, Iknow ye've regard for me, an' I'm askin' asa personal favor that ye hold off a bit withyour denouncement of yon Wentworth.Just play the game as ye've been playin' it.Keep on bein' Sven Larsen, the factor'sclerk, heavy of wit, an' able with foolquestions. Ye've a fine faculty for actin';for all durin' supper the lass neversuspected ye. Keep it up for a while; itwon't be for long."

"But what's the good of it? We know asmuch as we'll ever know. Man, do youknow what you're asking? Loving Jean as Ilove her, I must stand about and play thefool, while that damned thief basks in herfavor under my very eyes! If there were agood reason, it would be different. ButWentworth and Orcutt can go no farther;they're done——"

"Aye, but they're not done," interruptedMcNabb. "Ye'll be knowin' me wellenough to know I always have a reason forthe things that I do. It's a hard thing I'maskin' of ye, an' in this case I'll show yethe reason, though 'tis not my habit. D'yemind I told ye that the Eureka materialwas rollin' down the tote-road by the truckload? Thousands of dollars worth of it

every day is bein' delivered at the millsite. Why? Because for some reasonOrcutt has not yet found out that he doesnot own the timber. The minute he doesfind out, not another pound will bedelivered."

"You mean——?"

"I mean that portland cement, an' thereinforcin' steel, an' plate an' whateverelse goes into the construction of a papermill is bein' set down on the Shamattawa,one hundred miles from a railway atOrcutt's expense. And that every ton of itis stuff that won't pay its way out of thewoods. The freight an' the haulin' one waydoubles the cost. An' even if he tried totake it out, he'd have a hundred miles of

tote-road to build. Eureka freight travelsonly one way on McNabb's tote-road—an'that way is in!"

Hedin stared at the man in astonishment."And you can buy it at your own figure!"he cried. "Why, you can prevent even hisempty trucks from going back. God, man,it will ruin Orcutt!"

"'Tis his own doin's," answered the man."'Twill serve him right. He should have'tended to his bankin' instead of pickin' onpoor old John McNabb, that should beback of his counter sellin' thread, as hetold me himself. Ten cents on the dollar heoffered for my tote-road."

"I'll do it!" exclaimed Hedin. "It will be

hard, but it will be worth it, to see thatcrook get what's coming to him. And thenI'm going away. Murchison will give me aletter, and I'll strike the Company for ajob."

McNabb nodded. "I guess ye're right,about not goin' back to the store," he saidslowly. "Your heart is in the North."

There was a strange lump in Hedin'sthroat. He glanced into the face of hisemployer, and was surprised at a certainsoftness in the shrewd gray eyes that gazedfar out over the lake. After a time the oldman spoke, more to himself than to him."Ye could both run down for a month ortwo in the winter!"

"What?" asked Hedin, regarding thespeaker with a puzzled expression."Both of who? A factor only gets away inthe summer."

"So they do—so they do," answeredMcNabb, absently. "Well, we'll be goin'back now. My engineer, maybe, will bewantin' a conference."

XXIVA rather strained silence greeted theentrance of McNabb into the trading room.Jean and Murchison occupied the only twochairs the room boasted, and Wentworthleaned against the counter, a half-sneeringsmile on his lips. McNabb advanced tothe group beneath the huge swinging lamp,and Sven Larsen lingered in the shadowsnear the door. The half-sneer changed to alook of open defiance, as Wentworthfaced McNabb. "It seems," he saidtruculently, "that I am guilty of a seriousfaux pas in mentioning a bit of TerraceCity scandal that reached my earsconcerning the elopement of your

estimable fur clerk, Hedin, and a Russiansable coat. The idiot didn't have the brainsto get away with it. If you'd have beenwiser you would have waited until youcould have laid hands on the coat, andthen locked up your fur clerk."

"H-m-m, maybe ye're right," answeredMcNabb.

"And," continued Wentworth, emboldenedby the placidity of the other's tone, "if youhad been wiser, you wouldn't have lostyour pulp-wood holdings. Oh, there's nouse beating about the bush—I knew theminute Jean told me you had come in bythe tote-road, that you had seen the Eurekatrucks hauling in Eureka material. We putone over on you, McNabb, and you might

as well be a sport and make the best of it."

The old Scot nodded thoughtfully. "Maybeye're right," he admitted. "But wasn't it abit scurvy trick ye played me, acceptin' mymoney an' usin' it to double-cross me?"

"Business, my dear man! Merely business!I saw my chance, and I took it, that's all.Ten thousand a year, and a ten percentinterest in a paper mill isn't so poor—andI'm not yet thirty. It takes brains to makemoney, and you can bet I'll make mymoney before my brain begins to slipcogs. It's expensive—this slipping ofcogs."

"Maybe ye're right," repeated McNabb.

"I'll tell the world I'm right! It won't be buta few years till I'll be the big noise aroundthis part of Canada! Brains to figure out aproposition, and nerve to carry it through—that's all it takes to make this old worldpay up what it owes you."

"How he hates himself!" exclaimed Jean,and from his position in the shadows,Hedin saw that her eyes flashed.

His heart gave a great bound, and it waswith an effort that he restrained himselffrom pushing into the group. Was itpossible—? A step sounded outside, andthe next moment the screen door swungopen to admit the figure of a man whostrode into the lamp-light and glancedabout the faces of the assembly.

The man was Cameron.

"A fine two days' stay you made of yourtrip to the mill site," he grumbled,addressing Wentworth. "I waited here fora week for you or Orcutt to show up, andthen I decided to hunt you. I followed youto Winnipeg, and from there to Ottawa,and back again to the head of the tote-road. Orcutt had left for the States the daybefore I got there, but they said you weredown at the mill site. I rode down on atruck only to find that you had come overhere for your outfit."

"Well, now you've found me, what's onyour mind?" grinned Wentworth.

"I have a memorandum here in my pocket

signed by Orcutt in which he authorizedyou to transact any and all businessregarding the pulp-wood lands."

"That's correct," admitted Wentworth. "Iam a stockholder, an officer in thecompany, and its sole representative in thefield. Fire away. What's this businessthat's so all-fired important as to send youchasing all over Canada to reach me?"

"My business," replied Cameron gravely,"is to return to you as representative of theEureka Paper Company, three hundred andfifty thousand dollars, which amount waspaid over to me by Mr. Orcutt, and whichrepresents the initial payment of tenpercent of the purchase price of certainpulp-wood lands described in the

accompanying contract of sale."

"Return the money!" cried Wentworth."What do you mean?"

"Simply, that the deal is off. Or, rather, novalid transaction was ever consummated."

Every particle of color faded from theengineer's face at the words. As heglanced wildly about him his eye caught atwinkle in the eyes of McNabb. The colorflooded his face in a surge of red, and hiseyes seemed to bulge with rage as hegroped for words. "It's a damned lie!" hecried. "A trick of McNabb's!" He turnedupon the older man: "I thought you tookyour defeat too easy, but you'll find youcan't put anything over on me! The deal

stands—and we'll fight you to the lastcourt! If you've found some pettytechnicality in the contract, you betterforget it. We've gone ahead in good faithand spent a million. We can employ asgood lawyers as you can, and the courtswon't stand for any quibbling! It's a casefor the equity courts."

Cameron smiled grimly. "I am a lawyer,and as such you will permit the smile atyour mention of the equity court. Youwould not be allowed to enter its doors.For its first precept is: He who comes intoequity must come with clean hands. Areyour hands clean? I think not—neitheryour hands nor Orcutt's. But, the matterwill never reach the courts. There is noquestion of a technical error in the

contract, because there is no contract. Theinstrument I drew, and which was signedby Orcutt and myself, has no legalexistence. No valid contract could havebeen drawn relative to the disposal ofthose lands until the options held by Mr.McNabb had expired——"

"But they had expired!" cried Wentworth."They expired at twelve o'clock, noon, ofJuly first, and the contract was not signeduntil two or three minutes after twelve."

"By Orcutt's watch," retorted Cameron."And Orcutt's watch was an hour fasterthan official time. I had no reason tosuppose his watch was wrong, andbelieved the time had expired, until I wasconfronted, after your departure, by the

accredited representative of McNabb. Iwas dumbfounded until I established thefact that he was within his rights intendering payment and closing thetransaction for his principal. Then therewas no course open to me but to acceptMcNabb's money and conclude thetransfer to him. Murchison, here, is awitness, that the facts are as I have statedthem."

Wentworth's eyes flew to the face of thefactor, who nodded emphatically. Againthe color left his face. "It's a damnedtrick!" he muttered. "Why didn't you notifyus at once, instead of waiting nearly threeweeks and allowing us to spend more thana million dollars?"

"Orcutt told me he would return to the postin two days. I waited, and when a weekwent by I used every means in my powerto reach him. I followed him by train. Ilearned his address and wired the facts tohis bank. The fault is his own. I am sorryyou have lost so heavily——"

"It isn't my money," Wentworth criedsavagely. Then he suddenly paused, andfor upwards of thirty seconds the roomwas in dead silence. When he spokeagain, it was in a voice palpably held incontrol.

"I guess you have got us," he said. "Thereseems to be nothing for me to do butaccept the money." He held out his hand asCameron slowly counted out the big bills.

Then without recounting, Wentworth thrustthem into his pocket, and with quick,nervous strokes of his pen signed thereceipt which Cameron placed beforehim. Then in a voice trembling withsuppressed rage he faced McNabb. "Damnyou!" he cried. "I thought—Orcutt said youwere beginning to slip!"

"Well, maybe he's right," admittedMcNabb, and the engineer saw that hislips twitched at the corners.

"Who was your representative?" hedemanded abruptly. "And, how did itcome that he arrived just in the nick oftime?"

"Why, his name is Sven Larsen. He's

Murchison's clerk," answered theScot. "And he was here all the time."

"Sven Larsen!" yelled Wentworth. "Thathalf-wit! Why, he hasn't got sense enoughto come in out of the rain!"

"Maybe ye're right," admitted McNabb,"but that isn't what I hired him to do."

With an oath, Wentworth pushed pastCameron and started for the door to findhimself suddenly face to face with SvenLarsen. "Get out of my way, damn you!"he cried. "Go up in the loft and wallow inyour stinking furs!"

"Furs!" repeated the clerk dully, butwithout giving an inch. "Oh, yes, furs." He

was looking Wentworth squarely in theeyes with a heavy stare. "Some fur isgood, and some is bad. A Russian sable isbetter than a baum marten." At the words,Jean McNabb, who had been a silent butfascinated listener to all that transpired,leaned swiftly forward, her eyes staringinto the uncouth face of the speaker, whocontinued, "And when the coat is dark,and of matched skins, it is very muchbetter than any baum marten. And whenone receives the sable coat on a winter'snight from the hands of a beautiful Russianprincess whom one is helping to escapethrough a roaring blizzard in a motor car—or was it a sleigh?"

"Stop, damn you!" In the lamp-light the on-lookers saw that the face of the engineer

had gone livid. His words came thickly."You fool! Are you crazy? Have youforgotten Pollak, and what happened in theshop of Levinski, the furrier? Where isPollak?"

A slow grin overspread the face of SvenLarsen. "I invented Pollak to cover amistake I made. There never was anyPollak, Wentworth, but there is a Russiansable coat. The coat is in your trunk in thecabin. It is the coat you stole from MissMcNabb on the night of the Campbelldinner."

"Oskar!" cried Jean, leaping from herchair at the moment that Wentworth hurledhimself upon Hedin. Her cry was drownedin the swift impact of bodies and the

sound of blows, and grunts, and heavybreathing. McNabb and Cameron drewback and the bodies, locked in a clench,toppled to the floor, overturning a chair.

"Oh, stop them! Stop them!" shrieked thegirl. "He'll kill him!"

"Who'll kill who?" grinned McNabb,holding her back with one hand, withouttaking his eyes from the struggling, fightingfigures that writhed almost at his feet,overturning boxes and bales in theirstruggles.

"He'll kill Oskar! He's bigger——"

"Not by a damn sight, he won't!" roaredMcNabb. "Look at um! Look at um!

Oskar's on top! Give him hell, lad!"

Jean had ceased her protest, and to herown intense surprise she found herselfleaning forward, watching every move.She cried out with pain when Wentworth'sfist brought the blood from Oskar's nose,and she applauded when Hedin's last threeblows landed with vicious thuds againstthe engineer's upturned chin.

Hedin rose to his feet and held thehandkerchief to his bleeding nose.McNabb's hand gripped his shoulder. "Yedone fine, lad! Ye done fine!" heexclaimed.

Dropping to his knees, Hedin slipped hishand into the unconscious man's pocket

and withdrew a key which he tossed toone of the Company Indians who hadcome running in at the sound of battle."Here, Joe Irish," he said, "go to the cabinand unlock the trunk that is there and bringback the coat of fur."

A few moments later Hedin handed thegarment to McNabb. "Here is yourmissing coat," he said, as Jean threw herarm about his shoulder.

"Oskar, dear—" she whispered, and thenext moment Hedin's arms were about herand she could feel the wild pounding ofhis heart against her breast.

There was a movement on the floor neartheir feet, and releasing the girl Hedin

reached swiftly down. McNabb's handstayed him before he could seize hold ofWentworth, who was crawling toward thedoor.

"Let him go, lad," advised the old man."We've got the coat.An'—an'—we're all happy!"

"But the money? He's got the threehundred and fifty thousand!" criedHedin.

McNabb grinned. "Suppose we just letOrcutt worry about that," he said.

"I told you Oskar was innocent!" criedJean triumphantly, as the door closedbehind the slinking form of Wentworth. "I

told you so from the first! I just knew henever took that coat!"

McNabb's eyes were twinkling. "I knewit, too, lass," he answered. "That's why Ibailed him out an' sent him up here withtwo hundred an' fifty thousand dollars innegotiable paper in his pocket to closethis deal for me."

"And you knew all the time," cried thegirl, staring at her father in amazement,"when Orcutt was gloating over you backthere, that you, and not he, owned thetimber? And you let him go on andhumiliate you to your face!"

"Sure I did," grinned McNabb. "He washavin' the time of his life, an' I hated to

spoil it. An' besides, while he was talkin',truck after truck was rollin' off down thetote-road haulin' material to my mill sitethat I'll buy in at ten cents on the dollar.Orcutt'll pay for his fun!"

"But—your face—when he told you thatyou had lost the timber! It positively wentgray!"

"Poker face," laughed McNabb. "But runalong now—the two of ye. It's many a longday since Dugald an' I have had apowwow with our feet cocked up on balesof Injun goods." As the two walked arm inarm toward the door, McNabb called tothe girl, "Here, lass, take your coat!" Hetossed the Russian sable which the girlcaught with a glad cry. "Ye'll be needin' it

up here agin winter comes."

"Winter! Up here! What do you mean?"

"Oskar says he isn't goin' back to TerraceCity," he explained. "Except maybe for theweddin'. The North has got into his blood,an' the McNabb Paper Company needs acompetent manager."

XXVWhen Wentworth left the trading room hewent straight to his cabin, anddisregarding his open trunk, he lifted apack-sack from the floor and swung it tohis shoulders. It was the pack he haddeposited there scarcely an hour beforewhen he had trailed in from the mill site,and he knew that it contained three or fourdays' supply of rations.

On the Shamattawa he had heard from atruck driver that an old man and a girl hadstarted for Gods Lake post, and heinstantly recognized McNabb and Jeanfrom the man's description. Thereupon he

made up a pack and headed for the postfor the sole purpose of baiting the two,and of flaunting his prowess as a financierin their faces.

An angry flush flooded his face as herealized how completely the tables hadturned. Then the flush gave place to acrafty smile, as he remembered the bills inhis pocket. "McNabb's money, orOrcutt's," he muttered under his breath,"it's all the same to me. Three hundred andfifty thousand is more money than I everexpected to handle. And now for the get-away."

Closing the door behind him he struckacross the clearing toward the northeast.At the end of the bush he paused. "Hell!"

he growled. "I can't hit for the railway.Cameron said he had wired Orcutt at thebank, and I might meet him coming in."For some time he stood irresolute."There's a way out straight south," hespeculated, "about three hundred miles,and a good share of it water trail. I'll beall right if I can pick up a canoe, and I canget grub of the Indians." Skirting theclearing, he entered the bush and came outon the shore of the lake at some distancebelow the landing, where several canoeshad been beached for the night. Stooping,he righted one, and as he straightened uphe found himself face to face withCorporal Downey of the Mounted. For amoment the two stood regarding eachother in silence, while throughWentworth's brain flashed a mighty fear.

Had McNabb changed his mind and sentDowney to arrest him for the theft of thecoat? He thought of Orcutt's big bills inhis pocket, and his blood seemed to turn towater within him. Then suddenly heremembered that for the present, at least,he held those bills under color ofauthority. In the deep twilight that is thesummer midnight of the North he searchedthe officer's face. Damn the man! Whydidn't he say something? Why did healways force another to open aconversation? Wentworth cleared histhroat.

"Hello, Corporal," he said sourly. "Aren'tyou out pretty late?"

"Not any later than you are, Captain. An'

I'm headed in. Put over any more big dealslately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I run onto Cameron about a weekback. He was huntin' you or Orcutt. Hetold me how you beat old John McNabbout of his pulp-wood—almost. You oughtto be ashamed—a couple of up-to-datefinanciers like you two, pickin' on an' oldman that's just dodderin' around in hissecond childhood."

Wentworth flushed hot at the grin thataccompanied the words.

"To hell with McNabb—and you, too!" hecried angrily, and carrying the canoe into

the water, he placed his pack in it. Whenhe returned for a paddle, Downey wasgone, and stepping into the canoe, hepushed it out into the lake. "Of course,he'd have to show up, damn him!" hemuttered as he propelled the light craftsouthward with swift strokes of thepaddle. "And now if Orcutt should showup within the next day or two, Downeywill know just where to follow, and evenwith a two days' start, I doubt if I couldkeep ahead of him. They say he's a devilon the trail. But I'll fool him. I'll leave thecanoe at the end of the lake, and instead ofstriking on down the river I'll hit outoverland. Once I get to the railway, theycan all go to hell!"

The mistake Wentworth made on the trail

when he first came into the North was notso much the insisting upon bringing in histrunk, nor his refusal to carry a pack; itwas in striking Alex Thumb with the dog-whip when he refused to pull the outfit inthe face of a blizzard. Thumb's reputationas a "bad Injun" was well founded. Theson of a hot-tempered French trader and aCree mother, his early life had been asuccession of merciless beatings. At theage of fourteen he killed his father with ablow from an ice chisel, and thereafterserved ten years of an indeterminatesentence, during the course of which theunmerciful beatings were administered foreach infraction of reformatory rules, untilin his heart was born a sullen hatred of allwhite men and an abysmal hatred of thelash. When Wentworth struck, his doom

was sealed, but as Murchison said, AlexThumb was canny. He had no mind toserve another term in prison.

All through the spring and summer hetrailed the engineer, waiting with thepatience that is the heritage of thewilderness dweller for the time and theplace to strike and avoid suspicion. Andas time drew on the half-breed's hatredagainst all white men seemed toconcentrate into a mighty rage against thisone white man. There had been timeswhen he could have killed him from afar.More than once on the trail Wentworthunconsciously stood with the sights ofAlex Thumb's rifle trained upon his head,or his heart. But such was his hatred thatThumb always stayed the finger that

crooked upon the trigger—and bided histime.

Thus it was that half an hour afterWentworth pushed out into the lakeanother canoe shot out from the shore andfell in behind, its lone occupant, paddlingnoiselessly, easily kept just within sight ofthe fleeing man. When daylight broadenedWentworth landed upon a sandy point andate breakfast. Upon another point, a mileto the rear, Alex Thumb lay on his bellyand chewed jerked meat as hissmouldering black eyes regardedgloatingly the man in the distance.

Gods Lake is nearly fifty miles in its northand south reach, and all day Wentworthpaddled southward, holding well to the

western shore.

At noon he rested for an hour and ateluncheon, his eyes now and then scanningthe back reach of the lake. But he sawnothing, and from an aspen thicket scarcehalf a mile away Alex Thumb watched insilence.

As the afternoon wore to a closer the half-breed drew nearer. The shadows of thebordering balsams were long on the waterwhen Wentworth first caught sight of thepursuing canoe. His first thought was thatOrcutt had arrived at the post and thatDowney had taken the trail. He ceasedpaddling for a moment and his light canoeswung into the trough of the waves androcked crankily.

The other canoe was only a half milebehind, and Wentworth saw with reliefthat its occupant was not Downey. SomeIndian fishing, he thought, and resumed hispaddling. The south shore was only anhour away now, and tired as he was, heredoubled his efforts.

Farther on he looked back again. Thecanoe still followed. Surely noIndian would set his nets so far from hiscamp. Yet the man was anIndian. He had drawn closer andWentworth could distinguish the short,jabbing strokes of the paddle.

Another quarter of an hour and Wentworthlooked again—and as he looked, theblood seemed to freeze in his veins. The

pursuing canoe was close now, and hewas staring straight into the eyes of AlexThumb. The half-breed was smiling—acurious, twisted smile that was the veryembodiment of savage hate. Wentworth'smuscles felt weak, and it was withdifficulty that he drove them to the task offorcing the canoe out of the trough of thewaves. Mechanically he paddled with hiseyes fixed on the ever nearing south shore.He was very tired. He would soon makeland now. But when he did make land—what then? He cursed himself for goingunarmed. He could hear the slop of thewaves on Thumb's canoe. He turned hishead and saw that the man was only twolengths behind him. What would he do?With the mechanical swing of his arms thewords of Murchison and Downey

repeated themselves in his brain. "Servingwith the devils in hell; serving with thedevils in hell," with a certain monotonousrhythm the words kept repeatingthemselves through his brain. Why had heever come North? Why hadn't he toldMcNabb that he would have nothing to dowith his pulp-wood? The half-breed'scanoe was alongside, but its occupant didnot speak. He merely jabbed at the waveswith his paddle and looked with thatdevilish twisted smile.

Wentworth hardly knew when his canoegrated upon the gravel. Stiffly he halfwalked, half crawled to the bow and liftedout his pack. Alex Thumb stood upon thegravel and smiled.

"What do you want?" faltered Wentworth,his voice breaking nervously.

The half-breed shrugged. "You no lak nopardner on de trail?" he asked.

"Where are you going?"

Thumb pointed vaguely toward the south."Me—I'm lak de pardner on de trail."

"Look here," cried Wentworth suddenly."Do you want money? More money thanyou ever saw before?"

The breed shook his head. "No. De moneycan't buy w'at I wan'."

"What do you want?"

Again came the twisted smile. "Mebbe-sowe eat de suppaire firs'. I got som' feesh.We buil' de fire an' cook 'um."

The meal was eaten in silence, and duringits progress Wentworth in a measurerecovered his nerve.

"You haven't told me yet what you want,"he suggested when they had lighted theirpipes and thrown on an armful of greensfor a smudge.

Between the narrowed lids the black eyesseemed to smoulder as they fixed upon theface of the white man. "I wan' you heart,"he said, casually. "Red in my han's I wan'it, an' squeeze de blood out, an' watch itsplash on de rocks. Mebbe-so I'm eat a

piece dat heart, an' feed de res' to mydog."

Wentworth's pipe dropped to the graveland lay there. He uttered no sound. Thewind had died down and save for thedroning hum of a billion mosquitoes thesilence was absolute. A thin column ofsmoke streamed from the bowl of theneglected pipe. In profound fascinationWentworth watched it flow smoothlyupward. An imperceptible air current setthe column swaying and wavering, and alight puff of breeze dispersed it in a swirlof heavy yellow smoke from the smudge.Dully, impersonally, he sensed that thehalf-breed had just told him that he wouldsqueeze the red blood from his heart andwatch it splash upon the rocks. His eyes

rested upon the rocks rimmed up by theice above the gravelly beach. The bloodwould splash there, and there, and thoseother rocks would be spattered with tinydrops of it—his blood, the blood from hisown heart which Alex Thumb wouldsqueeze dry, as one would wring waterfrom a sponge. He wondered that he feltno sense of fear. He believed that AlexThumb would do that, yet it was a matterthat seemed not of any importance. Heraised his eyes and encountered themalevolent glare of the breed. The blackeyes seemed to glow with an inner lustre,like the smoulder of banked fires.

With a start he seemed to have returnedfrom some far place. The words ofCorporal Downey flittered through his

brain: "You'll be servin' with the devils inhell if you don't quit makin' enemies ofmen like Alex Thumb." And there wasAlex Thumb regarding him throughnarrowed smouldering eyes across thelittle fire. Alex Thumb would kill him!Would kill him—Ross Wentworth! Thewhole thing was preposterous. If the manhad really meant to kill him he would havedone it before this. He wouldn't dare;there were the Mounted. Other words ofDowney came to him, "If he does kill you,I'll get him." So there was a possibilitythat the man would kill him. Why not?Who would ever know? They would thinkhe disappeared with Orcutt's money—would even institute a world-wide searchfrom him—but not in the bush. Thought ofthe money nerved him to speak.

"How much will you take to get into yourcanoe and paddle back the way youcame?" he asked.

The breed laughed. "Wen I'm keel you I'mgot you money, anyway. But I'm ain' wan'so mooch de money. I'm wan' you heart."A dangerous glitter supplanted thesmouldering glow of the black eyes. "Me—I'm stay ten year in de prison, for 'causeI'm keel my own fadder, an' dat dam' goodt'ing. For why I'm keel heem? 'Cause hewhip me wit' de dog-whip. In de prison deguards whip me mor' as wan t'ousan' tam.In de night w'en I ain' can sleep 'cause myback hurt so bad from de whip, I'm lay inde dark an' keel dem all. Every wan I ha'keel wan hondre tam dere in de dark w'enI lay an' t'ink 'bout it. An' I know how I'm

goin' do dat. Den you hit me wit de whipon de trail. All right. I'm ain' kin keel deguards. I keel you here in de bush; I shootyou in de head, an' I'm cut de heart outbefore he quit jumpin'."

Wentworth moistened his lips with histongue. "Downey will take you in, if youdo. And they'll hang you—choke you todeath with a rope."

"No. Downey ain' kin fin'. I'm bur' you inde bush—all but de heart.I'm keep de heart all tam."

"Good God, man, you couldn't kill me likethat—in cold blood!" Beyond the fire thehalf-breed laughed, a dry evil laugh thatheld nothing of mirth. With a scream of

terror Wentworth leaped to his feet andcrashed into the bush.

Beside the fire Alex Thumb laughed—andspread his blankets for the night.

Four hours later the breed wriggled fromhis blanket and lighted the fire. While thewater heated for his tea, he carried thetwo canoes back into the scrub and cachedthem, together with the two packs. Heswallowed his breakfast and picking uphis rifle walked slowly into the bush, hiseyes on the ground. A mile away the lipstwisted into their sardonic grin as he notedwhere the fleeing man had flounderedthrough a muskeg, the flattened grasstelling of his frequent falls. In a balsamthicket he lifted a scrap of cloth from a

protruding limb, and again he smiled.Where Wentworth forded a waist-deepstream he had lain down to rest on thesand of the opposite bank. The trail startedtoward the south. By midforenoon Thumbnoted with a grin that he was traveling dueeast.

At noon he overtook Wentworth, mired tothe middle in a marl bed, supportinghimself on a half sunken spruce.

Laying aside his rifle, the breed cut a polewith his belt ax and aftersome difficulty succeeded in dragging theengineer to solid ground.Wentworth was muttering and mumblingabout a Russian sable coat, andThumb had to support him as he bound

him to a spruce tree.

On the edge of the lake Corporal Downeypicked up the trail. He located the cachedcanoes, and returning to the fire, hereached down and picked Wentworth'spipe from the gravel. "It's Thumb, allright," he said, as he stood holding thepipe. "I know his canoe. They were bothhere at the same time. I don't savvy that,because Wentworth left first. Thumb'strail is only three hours old. Maybe—if Ihurry——"

From far to the southeastward came thesound of a shot. Downey straightened, andfor the space of minutes stood tense as apointer. The sound was not repeated—and

swiftly the officer of the Mounted spedthrough the bush.

AN EPILOGUETwo days later, into the trading room ofthe Hudson's Bay Company's post onGod's Lake, burst Orcutt, white of face,shaken of nerves, and with his disheveledgarments bespeaking a frenzied dashthrough the timber.

"What's the meaning of this?" he cried,holding out a telegram.

McNabb reached for the message and readit. "It means just what it says," heanswered. "Cameron has stated it plain."

"But where is Cameron? Where is the

three hundred and fifty thousand I paidhim? Where is Wentworth?"

"Cameron is not here. He left after turningover your money to Wentworth. He saidhe held a paper that constituted Wentworthyour legal representative."

"But—where is Wentworth?" gaspedOrcutt.

"He left the night he got the money—aweek ago to-night, wasn't it,Dugald?"

"Good God!" The words were a groan."I'm ruined. Ruined, I tell you!There's just one chance. John, the materialthat's on your mill site.

Will you take it over?"

"Sure, I'll take it," answered McNabb."On the same terms you offered for mytote-road. Ten cents on the dollar, wasn'tit, Orcutt?"

"But, man, you don't understand!"

"I understand that the shoe is on the otherfoot," answered McNabb, coldly. "Listento me, Orcutt; by your own admissionyou've been trying for more than twentyyears to ruin me. I've let you go, neverturning out of my way to injure you. I'mnot turning out of my way now. If you'resqueezed it is because of your own deeds—not mine."

"Squeezed!" sobbed the bankerhysterically. "I'm ruined! It means the bank—my home—everything! It means—more.I was so sure—I—I'm into the bank'smoney for thousands! It means—thepenitentiary!"

McNabb looked at the cringing man,whose knees seemed to sag beneath theweight of his woe. Coldly his eyestraveled the length of him: "Maybe ye'reright," he said, and his words cut icy cold.Then, deliberately he turned his back uponthe man and strode through the door.

Upon that same day, also came CorporalDowney, of the Royal North WestMounted Police, and in his custody heheld a man. The man was the half-breed

Alex Thumb.

"We've got the goods on him this time,"Downey told the factor. "And a damnedpeculiar case. I picked him up a few milessouth of the lake. I heard a shot, and anhour later I located him and crept upthrough the brush. He had just finishedburying Wentworth's body all but the heart—that was dryin' on a little stick besidethe fire. There was an empty shell in hisrifle. But—what I can't make out is this."He paused and withdrew from his pocketa small tin box, and opening it, discloseda handful of ashes and the half of a UnitedStates gold certificate for ten thousanddollars. "He was holdin' it over a littlefire," explained the officer. "I located himby the smoke smell. I covered him, and he

dropped this last fragment to throw up hishands. It's money. I didn't know they made'em so big. But why in hell should he burnit?"

Murchison examined the fragment with itsburned edge. "Alex Thumb was canny," hemuttered. "The bills was too big. He didn'tdare to spend 'em."

THE END

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