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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Snow-Burner
+
+Author: Henry Oyen
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2011 [EBook #36121]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE
+GROUND]
+
+THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+BY HENRY OYEN
+
+Author of “The Man-Trail”
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+Copyright, 1916,
+
+By George H. Doran Company
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+COPYRIGHT 1914, 1915, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+        I. “Help!”                                          9
+       II. The Girl                                        16
+      III. Toppy Gets A Job                                21
+       IV. “Hell-Camp” Reivers                             31
+        V. Toppy Overhears a Conversation                  39
+       VI. “Nice Boy!”                                     44
+      VII. The Snow-Burner’s Creed                         51
+     VIII. Toppy Works                                     62
+       IX. A Fresh Start                                   67
+        X. The Duel Begins                                 74
+       XI. “Hell-Camp” Court                               77
+      XII. Toppy’s First Move                              94
+     XIII. Reivers Replies                                100
+      XIV. “Joker and Deuces Wild”                        106
+       XV. The Way of the Snow-Burner                     115
+      XVI. The Screws Tighten                             131
+     XVII. Tilly’s Warning                                139
+    XVIII. “Canny by Nature”                              145
+      XIX. The Fight                                      150
+       XX. Toppy’s Way                                    162
+      XXI. The End of the Boss                            165
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN
+
+     XXII. The Cheating of the River                      175
+    XXIII. The Girl Who Was Not Afraid                    183
+     XXIV. The Woman’s Way                                193
+      XXV. Gold!                                          202
+     XXVI. The Look in a Woman’s Eyes                     212
+    XXVII. On the Trail of Fortune                        219
+   XXVIII. The Snow-Burner Hunts                          229
+     XXIX. The White Man’s Will                           233
+      XXX. Any Means to an End                            238
+     XXXI. The Squaw-Man                                  241
+    XXXII. The Scorn of a Pure Woman                      245
+   XXXIII. Shanty Moir                                    251
+    XXXIV. The Bargain                                    256
+     XXXV. The Test of the Bottle                         261
+    XXXVI. The Snow-Burner Begins To Weaken               265
+   XXXVII. Into the Jaws of the Bear                      270
+  XXXVIII. MacGregor Roy                                  277
+    XXXIX. James MacGregor’s Story                        283
+       XL. The White Man’s Sentiment                      293
+      XLI. Shanty-Moir-Temperance Advocate                301
+     XLII. The Snow-Burner Works for Two                  305
+    XLIII. “The Penalty of a White Man’s Mind”            309
+     XLIV. The Madness of “Hell-Camp” Reivers             316
+      XLV. A Surprise for Shanty Moir                     320
+     XLVI. A Fight that was a Fight                       327
+    XLVII. The Snow-Burner Pays                           332
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW BURNER
+
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I—HELP
+
+
+The brisk November sunrise, breaking over the dark jack-pines, lighted
+up the dozen snow-covered frame buildings comprising the so-called town
+of Rail Head, and presently reached in through the uncurtained windows
+of the Northern Light saloon, where it shone upon the curly head of
+young Toppy Treplin as, pillowed on his crossed forearms, it lay in
+repose on one of the saloon tables.
+
+It was a sad, strange place to find Toppy Treplin, one-time All-American
+halfback, but for the last four years all-around moneyed loafer and
+waster. Rail Head was far from the beaten path. It lay at the end of
+sixty miles of narrow-gauge track that rambled westward into the Big
+Woods from the Iron Range Railroad line, and it consisted mainly of a
+box-car depot, an alleged hotel and six saloons—none of the latter being
+in any too good repute with the better element round about.
+
+The existence of the saloons might have explained Toppy’s presence in
+Rail Head had their character and wares been of a nature to attract one
+of his critical tastes; but in reality Toppy was there because the Iron
+Range Limited, bearing Harvey Duncombe’s private hunting-car, had
+stopped for a moment the night before out where the narrow-gauge met the
+Iron Range Railroad tracks.
+
+Toppy, at that fated moment, was out on the observation platform alone.
+There had been a row and Toppy had rushed out in a black rage. Within,
+the car reeked with the mingled odours of cigarette-smoke and spilled
+champagne. Out of doors the first snowfall of the season, faintly tinted
+by a newly risen moon, lay unmarked, undefiled.
+
+A girl—small, young, brisk and business-like—alighted from the car ahead
+and walked swiftly across the station platform to the narrow-gauge train
+that stood waiting. The anger and champagne raging in him had moved
+Toppy to one of those wild pranks which had made his name among his
+fellows synonymous with irresponsibility.
+
+He would get away from it all, away from Harvey Duncombe and his
+champagne, and all that sort of thing. He would show them!
+
+Toppy had stepped off. The Limited suddenly glided away. Toppy lurched
+over to the narrow gauge, and that was the last thing he had remembered
+of that memorable night.
+
+As the sun now revealed him, Mr. Robert Lovejoy Treplin, in spite of his
+deplorable condition, was a figure to win attention of a not entirely
+unfavourable sort. Still clad in mackinaw and hunting-clothes, his two
+hundred pounds of bone and muscle and just a little too much fat were
+sprawled picturesquely over the chair and table, the six-foot
+gracefulness of him being obvious despite his rough apparel and awkward
+position.
+
+His cap had fallen off and the sun glinted on a head of boyish brown
+curls. It was only in the lazy, good-natured face, puffy and
+loose-lipped, that one might read how recklessly Toppy Treplin had lived
+since achieving his football honours four years before.
+
+The sun crept up and found his eyes, and Toppy stirred. Slowly, even
+painfully, he raised his head from the table and looked around him. The
+crudeness of his surroundings made him sit up with a start. He looked
+first out of the window at the snow-covered “street.” Across the way he
+saw a small, unpainted building bearing a scraggly sign, “Hotel.” Beyond
+this the jack-pines loomed in a solid wall.
+
+Toppy shuddered. He turned his face toward the man behind the bar, who
+had been regarding him for some time with a look of mingled surprise and
+amusement. Toppy shuddered again.
+
+The man was a half-breed, and he wore a red woollen shirt. Worse, there
+was not a sign of a mirror behind the bar. It was distressing.
+
+“Good morning, brother,” said Toppy, concealing his repugnance. “Might I
+ask you for a little information this pleasant morning?”
+
+The half-breed grinned appreciatively but sceptically.
+
+“Little drink, I guess you mean, don’t you?” said he. “Go ’head.”
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+“Thank you, brother, thank you. I am sorely puzzled about two little
+matters—where am I anyway, and if so, how did I get here?”
+
+The grin on the half-breed’s face broadened. He pointed at the table in
+front of Toppy.
+
+“You been sleeping there since ‘bout midnight las’ night,” he exclaimed.
+
+Toppy waved his left hand to indicate his displeasure at the inadequacy
+of the bartender’s reply.
+
+“Obvious, my dear Watson, obvious,” he said. “I know that I’m at this
+table, because here I am; and I know I’ve been sleeping here because I
+just woke up. Let’s broaden the range of our information. What town is
+this, if it is a town, and if it is, how did I happen to come here, may
+I ask?”
+
+The half-breed’s grin disappeared, gradually to give place to an
+expression of amazement.
+
+“You mean to say you come to this town and don’t know what town it is?”
+he demanded. “Then why you come? What you do here?”
+
+Toppy’s brow corrugated in an expression of deep puzzlement.
+
+“That’s another thing that’s rather puzzling, too, brother,” he replied.
+“Why did I come? I’d like to know that, too. Like very, very much to
+know that. Where am I, how did I come here, and why? Three questions I’d
+like very, very much to have answered.”
+
+He sat for a moment in deep thought, then turned toward the bartender
+with the pleased look of a man who has found an inspiration.
+
+“I tell you what you do, brother—you answer the first two questions and
+in the light of that information I’ll see if I can’t ponder out the
+third.”
+
+The half-breed leaned heavily across the single-plank bar and watched
+Toppy closely.
+
+“This town is Rail Head,” he said slowly, as if speaking to some one of
+whose mental capacity he had great doubts. “You come here by last
+night’s train. You bring the train-crew over to have a drink; then you
+fall asleep. You been sleeping ever since. Now you remember?”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+The puzzled look went out of Toppy’s eyes.
+
+“Now I remember. Row with Harvey Duncombe. Wanted me to drink two to his
+one. Stepped outside. Saw little train. Saw little girl. Stepped off big
+train, got on little train, and here I am. Fine little business.”
+
+“You went to sleep in the train coming up, the conductor told me,”
+volunteered the half-breed. “You told them you wanted to go as far as
+you could, so they took you up here to the end of the line. You remember
+now, eh, why you come here?”
+
+“Only too well, brother,” replied Toppy wearily. “I—I just came to see
+your beautiful little city.”
+
+The bartender laughed bitterly.
+
+“You come to a fine place. Didn’t you ever hear ‘bout Rail Head?” he
+asked. “I guess not, or you wouldn’t have come. This town’s the
+jumping-off place, that’s what she is. It’s the most God-forsaken,
+hopeless excuse for a town in the whole North Country. There’s only two
+kind of business here—shipping men out to Hell Camp and skinning them
+when they come back. That’s all. What you think of that for a fine town
+you’ve landed in, eh?”
+
+“Fine,” said Toppy. “I see you love it dearly, indeed.”
+
+The half-breed nodded grimly.
+
+“It’s all right for me; I own this place. Anybody else is sucker to come
+here, though. You ain’t a Bohunk fool, so I don’t think you come to hire
+out for Hell Camp. You just got too drunk, eh?”
+
+“I suppose so,” said Toppy, yawning. “What’s this Hell Camp thing?
+Pleasant little name.”
+
+“An’ pleasant little place,” supplemented the man mockingly. “Ain’t you
+never heard ‘bout Hell Camp? ‘Bout its boss—Reivers—the ‘Snow-Burner’?
+Huh! Perhaps you want hire out there for job?”
+
+“Perhaps,” agreed Toppy. “What is it?”
+
+“Oh, it ain’t nothing so much. Just big log-camp run by man named
+Reivers—that’s all. Indians call him Snow-Burner. Twenty-five, thirty
+miles out in the bush, at Cameron Dam. That’s all. Very big camp.
+Everybody who comes to this town is going out there to work, or else
+hiding out.”
+
+“I see. But why the name?”
+
+“Hell Camp?” The bartender’s grin appeared again; then, as if a second
+thought on the matter had occurred to him, he assumed a noncommittal
+expression and yawned. “Oh, that’s just nickname the boys give it. You
+see, the boys from camp come to town here in the Spring. Then sometimes
+they raise ——. That’s why some people call it Hell Camp. That’s all.
+Cameron Dam Camp is the right name.”
+
+“I see.” Toppy was wondering why the man should take the trouble to lie
+to him. Of course he was lying. Even Toppy, with his bleared eyes, could
+see that the man had started to berate Hell Camp even as he had berated
+Rail Head and had suddenly switched and said nothing. It hurt Toppy’s
+head. It wasn’t fair to puzzle him this morning. “I see. Just—just a
+nickname.”
+
+“That’s all,” said the bartender. Briskly changing the subject he said:
+“Well, how ’bout it, stranger? You going to have eye-opener this
+morning?”
+
+“I suppose so,” said Toppy absently. He again turned his attention to
+the view from the window. On the low stairs of the hotel were seated
+half a dozen men whose flat, ox-like faces and foreign clothing marked
+them for immigrants, newly arrived, of the Slavic type. Some sat on
+wooden trunks oddly marked, others stood with bundles beneath their
+arms. They waited stolidly, blankly, with their eyes on the hotel door,
+as oxen wait for the coming of the man who is going to feed them. Toppy
+looked on with idle interest.
+
+“I didn’t think you could see anything like that this far away from
+Ellis Island,” he said. “What are those fellows, brother?”
+
+“Bohunks,” said the bartender with a contemptuous jerk of the head.
+“They waiting to hire out for the Cameron Dam Camp. The agent he comes
+to the hotel. Well, what you going to have?”
+
+“Bring me a whisky sour,” said Toppy, without taking his eyes off the
+group across the street. The half-breed grinned and placed before him a
+bottle of whisky and a glass. Toppy frowned.
+
+“A whisky sour, I said,” he protested.
+
+“When you get this far in the woods,” laughed the man, “they all come
+out of one bottle. Drink up.”
+
+Once more Toppy shuddered. He was bored by this time.
+
+“Your jokes up here are worse than your booze,” he said wearily.
+
+He poured out a scant drink and sat with the glass in his hand while his
+eyes were upon the group across the street. He was about to drink when a
+stir among the men drew his attention. The door of the hotel opened
+briskly. Toppy suddenly set down his glass.
+
+The girl who had got on the narrow-gauge out at the junction the night
+before had come out and was standing on the stairs, looking about her
+with an expression which to Toppy seemed plainly to spell, “Help!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II—THE GIRL
+
+
+Toppy sat and stared across the street at her with a feeling much like
+awe. The girl was standing forth in the full morning sunlight, and
+Toppy’s first impulse was to cross the street to her, his second to hide
+his face. She was small and young, the girl, and beautiful. She was a
+blonde, such a blonde as is found only in the North. The sun lighted up
+the aureole of light hair surrounding her head, so that even Toppy
+behind the windows of the Northern Light caught a vision of its
+fineness. Her cheeks bore the red of perfect health showing through a
+perfect, fair complexion, and even the thick red mackinaw which she wore
+did not hide the trimness of the figure beneath.
+
+“What in the dickens is she doing here?” gasped Toppy. “She doesn’t
+belong in a place like this.”
+
+But if this were true the girl apparently was entirely unconscious of
+it. Among that group of ox-like Slavs she stood with her little chin in
+the air, as much at home, apparently, as if those men were all her good
+friends. Only she looked about her now and then as if anxiously seeking
+a way out of a dilemma.
+
+“What can she be doing here?” mused Toppy. “A little, pretty thing like
+her! She ought to be back home with mother and father and brother and
+sister, going to dancing-school, and all the rest of it.”
+
+Toppy was no stranger to pretty girls. He had met pretty girls by the
+score while at college. He had been adored by dozens. After college he
+had met still more. None of them had interested him to any inconvenient
+extent. After all, a man’s friends are all men.
+
+But this girl, Toppy admitted, struck him differently. He had never seen
+a girl that struck him like this before. He pushed his glass to one
+side. He was bored no longer. For the first time in four years the full
+shame of his mode of living was driven home to him, for as he feasted
+his eyes on the sun-kissed vision across the street his decent instincts
+whispered that a man who squandered and swilled his life away just
+because he had money had no right to raise his eyes to this girl.
+
+“You’re a waster, that’s what you are,” said Toppy to himself, “and
+she’s one of those sweet——”
+
+He was on his feet before the sentence was completed. In her perplexity
+the girl had turned to the men about her and apparently had asked a
+question. At first their utter unresponsiveness indicated that they did
+not understand.
+
+Then they began to smile, looking at one another and at the girl. The
+brutal manner in which they fixed their eyes upon her sent the blood
+into Toppy’s throat. White men didn’t look at a woman that way.
+
+Then one of the younger men spoke to the girl. Toppy saw her start and
+look at him with parted lips. The group gathered more closely around.
+The young man spoke again, grimacing and smirking bestially, and Toppy
+waited for no more. He was a waster and half drunk; but after all he was
+a white man, of the same breed as the girl on the stairs, and he knew
+his job.
+
+He came across the snow-covered street like Toppy Treplin of old bent
+upon making a touchdown. Into the group he walked, head up, shouldering
+and elbowing carelessly. Toppy caught the young speaker by both
+shoulders and hurled him bodily back among his fellows. For an instant
+they faced Toppy, snarling, their hands cautiously sliding toward hidden
+knives. Then they grovelled, cringing instinctively before the better
+breed.
+
+Toppy turned to the girl and removed his cap. She had not cried out nor
+moved, and now she looked Toppy squarely in the eye. Toppy promptly hung
+his head. He had been thinking of her as something of a child. Now he
+saw his mistake. She was young, it is true—little over twenty
+perhaps—but there was an air of self-reliance and seriousness about her
+as if she had known responsibilities beyond her years. And her eyes were
+blue, Toppy saw—the perfect blue that went with her fair complexion.
+
+“I beg pardon,” stammered Toppy. “I just happened to see—it looked as if
+they were getting fresh—so I thought I’d come across and—and see if
+there was anything—anything I could do.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the girl a little breathlessly. “Are—are you the
+agent?”
+
+Toppy shook his head. The look of perplexity instantly returned to the
+girl’s face.
+
+“I’m sorry; I wish I was,” said Toppy. “If you’ll tell me who the agent
+is, and so on—” he included most of the town of Rail Head in a
+comprehensive glance—“I’ll probably be able to find him in a hurry.”
+
+“Oh, I couldn’t think of troubling you. Thank you ever so much, though,”
+she said hastily. “They told me in the hotel that he was outside here
+some place. I’ll find him myself, thank you.”
+
+She stepped off the stairs into the snow of the street, every inch and
+line of her, from her solid tan boots to her sensible tassel cap,
+expressing the self-reliance and independence of the girl who is
+accustomed and able to take care of herself under trying circumstances.
+
+The bright sun smote her eyes and she blinked, squinting deliciously.
+She paused for a moment, threw back her head and filled her lungs to the
+full with great drafts of the invigorating November air. Her mackinaw
+rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and more colour came rushing into
+the roses of her cheeks. Apparently she had forgotten the existence of
+the Slavs, who still stood glowering at her and Toppy.
+
+“Isn’t it glorious?” she said, looking up at Toppy with her eyes
+puckered prettily from the sun. “Doesn’t it just make you glad you’re
+alive?”
+
+“You bet it does!” said Toppy eagerly. He saw his opportunity to
+continue the conversation and hastened to take advantage. “I never knew
+air could be as exciting as this. I never felt anything like it. It’s my
+first experience up here in the woods; I’m an utter stranger around
+here.”
+
+Having volunteered this information, he waited eagerly. The girl merely
+nodded.
+
+“Of course. Anybody could see that,” she said simply.
+
+Toppy felt slightly abashed.
+
+“Then you—you’re not a stranger around here?” he asked.
+
+She shook her head, the tassels of her cap and her aureole of light hair
+tossing gloriously.
+
+“I’m a stranger here in this town,” she said, “but I’ve lived up here in
+the woods, as you call it, all my life except the two years I was away
+at school. Not right in the woods, of course, but in small towns around.
+My father was a timber-estimator before he was hurt, and naturally we
+had to live close to the woods.”
+
+“Naturally,” agreed Toppy, though he knew nothing about it. He tried to
+imagine any of the girls he knew back East accepting a stranger as a man
+and a brother who could be trusted at first hand, and he failed.
+
+“I say,” he said as she stepped away. “Just a moment, please. About this
+agent-thing. Won’t you please let me go and look for him?” He waved his
+hands at the six saloons. “You see, there aren’t many places here that a
+lady can go looking for a man in.”
+
+She hesitated, frowning at the lowly groggeries that constituted the
+major part of Rail Head’s buildings.
+
+“That’s so,” she said with a smile.
+
+“Of course it is,” said Toppy eagerly. “And the chances are that your
+man is in one of them, no matter who he is, because that’s about the
+only place he can be here. You tell me who he is, or what he is, and
+I’ll go hunt him up.”
+
+“That’s very kind of you.” She hesitated for a moment, then accepted his
+offer without further parley. “It’s the employment agent of the Cameron
+Dam Company that I’m looking for. I am to meet him here, according to a
+letter they sent me, and he is to furnish a team and driver to take me
+out to the Dam.”
+
+Then she added calmly, “I’m going to keep books out there this Winter.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III—TOPPY GETS A JOB
+
+
+Toppy gasped. In the first place, he had not been thinking of her as a
+“working girl.” None of the girls that he knew belonged to that class.
+The notion that she, with the childish dimple in her chin and the roses
+in her cheeks, was a girl who made her own living was hard to
+assimilate; the idea that she was going out to a camp in the woods—out
+to Hell Camp—to work was absolutely impossible!
+
+“Keep books?” said Toppy, bewildered. “Do they keep books in a—in a
+logging-camp?”
+
+It was her turn to look surprised.
+
+“Do you know anything about Cameron Dam?” she asked.
+
+“Nothing,” admitted Toppy. “It’s a logging-camp, though, isn’t it?”
+
+“Rather more than that, as I understand it,” she replied. “They are
+building a town out there, according to my letter. There are over two
+hundred people there now. At present they’re doing nothing but logging
+and building the dam; but they say they’ve found ore out there, and in
+the Spring the railroad is coming and the town will open up.”
+
+“And—and you’re going to keep books there this Winter?”
+
+She nodded. “They pay well. They’re paying me seventy-five dollars a
+month and my board.”
+
+“And you don’t know anything about the place?”
+
+“Except what they’ve written in the letter engaging me.”
+
+“And still you’re going out there—to work?”
+
+“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Seventy-five-dollar jobs aren’t to be
+picked up every day around here.”
+
+“I see,” said Toppy. He remembered Harvey Duncombe’s champagne bill of
+the night before and grew thoughtful. He himself had shuddered a short
+while before, at waking in a bar where there was no mirror, and he had
+planned to wire Harvey for five hundred to take him back to
+civilisation. And here was this delicate little girl—as delicate to look
+upon as any of the petted and pampered girls he knew back
+East—cheerfully, even eagerly, setting her face toward the wilderness
+because therein lay a job paying the colossal sum of seventy-five
+dollars a month! And she was going alone!
+
+A reckless impulse swayed Toppy. He decided not to wire Harvey.
+
+“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll go find this agent. You’d better
+wait inside the hotel.”
+
+He crossed the street and systematically began to search through the six
+saloons. In the third place he found his man shaking dice with an
+Indian. The agent was a lean, long-nosed individual who wore thick
+glasses and talked through his nose.
+
+“Yes, I’m the Cameron Dam agent,” he drawled, curiously eying Toppy from
+head to toe. “Simmons is my name. What can I do for you?”
+
+“I want a job,” said Toppy. “A job out at Hell Camp.”
+
+The agent laughed shortly at the name.
+
+“You’re wise, are you?” he said. “And still you want a job out there?
+Well, I’m sorry. That load of Bohunks across the street fills me up. I
+can’t use any more rough labour just at present. I’m looking for a
+blacksmith’s helper, but I guess that ain’t you.”
+
+“That’s me,” said Toppy resolutely. “That’s the job I want—blacksmith’s
+helper. That’s my job.”
+
+The agent looked him over with the critical eye of a man skilfully
+appraising bone and muscle.
+
+“You’re big enough, that’s sure,” he drawled. “You’ve got the shoulders
+and arms, too, but—let’s see your hands.”
+
+Toppy held up his hands, huge in size, but entirely innocent of
+callouses or other signs of wear. The agent grinned.
+
+“Soft as a woman’s,” he said scornfully. “When did you ever do any
+blacksmithing? Long time ago, wasn’t it? Before you were born, I guess.”
+
+Toppy’s right hand shot out and fell upon the agent’s thin arm. Slowly
+and steadily he squeezed until the man writhed and grimaced with pain.
+
+“Wow! Leggo!” The agent peered over his thick glasses with something
+like admiration in his eyes. “Say, you’re there with the grip, all
+right, big fellow. Where’d you get it?”
+
+“Swinging a sledge,” lied Toppy solemnly. “And I’ve come here to get
+that job.”
+
+Simmons shook his head.
+
+“I can’t do it,” he protested. “If I should send you out and you
+shouldn’t make good, Reivers would be sore.”
+
+“Who’s this man Reivers?”
+
+The agent’s eyes over his glasses expressed surprise.
+
+“I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?” he said.
+
+“Oh, I’m wise enough,” said Toppy impatiently. “I know what it is. But
+who’s this Reivers?”
+
+“He’s the boss,” said Simmons shortly. “D’you mean to say you never
+heard about Hell-Camp Reivers, the Snow-Burner?”
+
+“No, I haven’t,” replied Toppy impatiently. “But that doesn’t make any
+difference. You send me out there; I’ll make good, don’t worry.” He
+paused and sized his man up. “Come over here, Simmons,” he said with a
+significant wink, leading the way toward the door. “I want that job; I
+want it badly.” Toppy dived into his pockets. Two bills came to
+light—two twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons’ hand. “That’s
+how bad I want it. Now how about it?”
+
+The fashion in which Simmons’ thin fingers closed upon the money told
+Toppy that he was not mistaken in the agent’s character.
+
+“You’ll be taking your own chances,” warned Simmons, carefully pocketing
+the money. “If you don’t make good—well, you’ll have to explain to
+Reivers, that’s all. You must have an awful good reason for wanting to
+go out.”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“Hiding from something, mebbe?” suggested Simmons.
+
+“Maybe,” said Toppy. “And, say—there’s a young lady over at the hotel
+who’s looking for you. Said you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get
+out to Cameron Dam.”
+
+An evil smile broke over the agent’s thin face as he moved toward the
+door.
+
+“The new bookkeeper, I suppose,” he said, winking at Toppy. “Aha! Now I
+understand why you——”
+
+Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His fingers sank into the
+man’s withered biceps.
+
+“No, you don’t understand,” he hissed grimly. “Get that? You don’t
+understand anything about it.”
+
+“All right,” snapped the cowed man. “Leggo my arm. I was just joshing.
+You can take a joke, can’t you? Well, then, come along. As long as
+you’re going out you might as well go at once. I’ve got to get a double
+team, anyhow, for the lady, and you’ve got to start now to make it
+before dark. Ready to start now?”
+
+“All ready,” said Toppy.
+
+At the door the agent paused.
+
+“Say, you haven’t said anything about wages yet,” he said quizzically.
+
+“That’s so,” said Toppy, as if he had forgotten. “How much am I going to
+get?”
+
+“Sixty a month.”
+
+The agent couldn’t understand why the new man should laugh. It struck
+Toppy as funny that a little girl with a baby dimple in her chin should
+be earning more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey Duncombe
+and the rest of the bunch would have thought had they known.
+
+Toppy followed the agent to the stable behind the hotel, where Simmons
+routed out an old hunchbacked driver who soon brought forth a team of
+rangy bays drawing a light double-seated sleigh.
+
+“Company outfit,” explained Simmons. “Have to have a team; one horse
+can’t make it. You can ride in the front seat with the driver. The lady
+will ride behind.”
+
+As Toppy clambered in Simmons hurriedly whispered something in the ear
+of the driver, who was fastening a trace. The hunchback nodded.
+
+“I got this job because I can keep my mouth shut,” he muttered. “Don’t
+you worry about anybody pumping me.”
+
+He stepped in beside Toppy; and the bays, prancing in the snow, went
+around to the front of the hotel on the run. There was a wait of a few
+minutes; then Simmons came out, followed by the girl carrying her
+suitcase. Toppy sprang out and took it from her hand.
+
+“You people are going to be together on a long drive, so I’d better
+introduce you,” said Simmons. “Miss Pearson, Mr. ——”
+
+“Treplin,” said Toppy honestly.
+
+“Treplin,” concluded Simmons. “New bookkeeper, new blacksmith’s helper.
+Get in the back seat, Miss Pearson. Cover yourself well up with those
+robes. Bundle in—that’s right. Put the suitcase under your feet. That’s
+right. All right, Jerry,” he drawled to the driver. “You’d better keep
+going pretty steady to make it before dark.”
+
+“Don’t nobody need to tell me my business,” said the surly hunchback,
+tightening the lines; and without any more ado they were off, the snow
+flying from the heels of the mettlesome bays.
+
+For the first few miles the horses, fresh from the stable and
+exhilarated to the dancing-point by the sun, air and snow, provided
+excitement which prevented any attempt at conversation. Then, when their
+dancing and shying had ceased and they had settled down to a steady,
+long-legged jog that placed mile after mile of the white road behind
+them with the regularity of a machine, Toppy turned his eyes toward the
+girl in the back seat.
+
+He quickly turned them to the front again. Miss Pearson, snuggled down
+to her chin in the thick sleigh-robes, her eyes squinting deliciously
+beneath the sharp sun, was studying him with a frankness that was
+disconcerting, and Toppy, probably for the first time in his life, felt
+himself gripped by a great shyness and confusion. There was wonderment
+in the girl’s eyes, and suspicion.
+
+“She’s wise,” thought Toppy sadly. “She knows I’ve been hitting it up,
+and she knows I made up my mind to come out here after I talked with
+her. A fine opinion she must have of me! Well, I deserve it. But just
+the same I’ve got to see the thing through now. I can’t stand for her
+going out all alone to a place with a reputation like Hell Camp. I’m a
+dead one with her, all right; but I’ll stick around and see that she
+gets a square deal.”
+
+Consequently the drive, which Toppy had hoped would lead to more
+conversation and a closer acquaintance with the girl, resolved itself
+into a silent, monotonous affair which made him distinctly
+uncomfortable. He looked back at her again. This time also he caught her
+eyes full upon him, but this time after an instant’s scrutiny she looked
+away with a trace of hardness about her lips.
+
+“I’m in bad at the start with her, sure,” groaned Toppy inwardly. “She
+doesn’t want a thing to do with me, and quite right at that.”
+
+His tentative efforts at opening a conversation with the driver met
+instant and convincing failure.
+
+“I hear they’ve got quite a place out here,” began Toppy casually.
+
+“None of my business if they have,” grunted the driver.
+
+Toppy laughed.
+
+“You’re a sociable brute! Why don’t you bark and be done with it?”
+
+The driver viciously pulled the team to a dead stop and turned upon
+Toppy with a look that could come only from a spirit of complete
+malevolence.
+
+“Don’t try to talk to me, young feller,” he snapped, showing old yellow
+teeth. “My job is to haul you out there, and that’s all. I don’t talk.
+Don’t waste your time trying to make me. Giddap!”
+
+He cut viciously at the horses with his whip, pulled his head into the
+collar of his fur coat with the motion of a turtle retiring into its
+shell, and for the rest of the drive spoke only to the horses.
+
+Toppy, snubbed by the driver and feeling himself shunned, perhaps even
+despised, by Miss Pearson, now had plenty of time to think over the
+situation calmly. The crisp November air whipping his face as the sleigh
+sped steadily along drove from his brain the remaining fumes of Harvey
+Buncombe’s champagne. He saw the whole affair clearly now, and he
+promptly called himself a great fool.
+
+What business was it of his if a girl wanted to go out to work in a
+place like Hell Camp? Probably it was all right. Probably there was no
+necessity, no excuse for his having made a fool of himself by going with
+her. Why had he done it, anyhow? Getting interested in anything because
+of a girl was strange conduct for him. He couldn’t call to mind a single
+tangible reason for his actions. He had acted on the impulse, as he had
+done scores of times before; and, as he had also done scores of times
+before, he felt that he had made a fool of himself.
+
+He tried to catch the girl’s eyes once more, to read in them some sign
+of relenting, some excuse for opening a conversation. But as he turned
+his head Miss Pearson also turned and looked away with uncompromising
+severity. Toppy studied the purity of her profile, the innocence of the
+baby dimple in her chin, out of the corner of his eye. And as he turned
+and glanced at the evil face of the hunchback driver he settled himself
+with a sigh, and thought—
+
+“Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that I’ve been a fool, I am
+glad that I’m here.”
+
+At noon the road plunged out of the scant jack-pine forest into the
+gloom of a hemlock swamp. Toppy shuddered as he contemplated what the
+fate of a man might be who should be unfortunate enough to get lost in
+that swamp. A mile in the swamp, on a slight knoll, they came to a tiny
+cabin guarding a gate across the road. An old, bearded woodsman came out
+of the cabin and opened the gate, and the hunchback pulled up and
+proceeded to feed his team.
+
+“Dinner’s waiting inside,” called the gate-tender. “Come in and eat,
+miss—and you, too; I suppose you’re hungry?” he added to Toppy.
+
+“And hurry up, too,” growled the hunchback. “I give you twenty minutes.”
+
+“Thank you very much,” said the girl, diving into her suitcase. “I’ve
+brought my own lunch.”
+
+She brought out some sandwiches and proceeded to nibble at them without
+moving from the sleigh. Toppy tumbled into the cabin in company with the
+hunchback driver. A rough meal was on the table and they fell to without
+a word. Toppy noticed that the old woodsman sat on a bench near the door
+where he could keep an eye on the road. Above the bench hung a pair of
+field-glasses, a repeating shotgun and a high-power Winchester rifle.
+
+“Any hunting around here?” asked Toppy cheerily.
+
+“Sometimes,” said the old watcher with a smile that made Toppy wonder.
+
+He did not pursue the subject, for there was something about the lonely
+cabin, the bearded old man, and the rifle on the wall that suggested
+something much more grim than sport.
+
+The driver soon bolted his meal and went back to the sleigh. Toppy
+followed, and twenty minutes after pulling up they were on the road
+again. With each mile that they passed now the swamp grew wilder and the
+gloom of the wilderness more oppressive. To right and left among the
+trees Toppy made out stretches of open water, great springs and little
+creeks which never froze and which made the swamp even in Winter a
+treacherous morass.
+
+Toward the end of the short afternoon the swamp suddenly gave way to a
+rough, untimbered ridge. Red rocks, which Toppy later learned contained
+iron ore, poked their way like jagged teeth through the snow. The sleigh
+mounted the ridge, the runners grating on bare rock and dirt, dipped
+down into a ravine between two ridges, swung off almost at right angles
+in a cleft in the hills—and before Toppy realised that the end of the
+drive had come, they were in full view of a large group of log buildings
+on the edge of a dense pine forest and were listening to the roar of the
+waters of Cameron Dam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV—“HELL-CAMP” REIVERS
+
+
+In the face of things there was nothing about the place to suggest that
+it deserved the title of Hell Camp. The Cameron Dam Camp, as Toppy saw
+it now, consisted of seven neat log buildings. Of these the first six
+were located on the road which led into the camp, three on each side.
+These buildings were twice as large as the ordinary log buildings which
+Toppy had seen in the woods; but they were thoroughly dwarfed and
+overshadowed by the seventh, which lay beyond them, and into the
+enormous doorway of which the road seemed to disappear. This building
+was larger than the other six combined—was built of huge logs,
+apparently fifteen feet high; and its wall, which stretched across the
+road, seemed to have no windows or openings of any kind save a great
+double door.
+
+Toppy had no time for a careful scrutiny of the place, as the hunchback
+swiftly pulled up before the first building of the camp, a well-built
+double-log affair with large front windows and a small sign, “Office and
+Store.” Directly across the road from this building was one bearing the
+sign, “Blacksmith Shop,” and Toppy gazed with keen curiosity at a short
+man with white hair and broad shoulders who, with a blacksmith’s hammer
+in his hand, came to the door of the shop as they drove up. Probably
+this was the man for whom he was to work.
+
+“Hey, Jerry,” greeted the blacksmith with a burr in his speech that
+labelled him unmistakably as a Scot.
+
+“Hey, Scotty,” replied the hunchback.
+
+“Did ye bring me a helper?”
+
+“Yes,” grunted Jerry.
+
+“Good!” said the blacksmith, and returned to his anvil.
+
+The hunchback turned to the girl as soon as the team had come to a
+standstill.
+
+“This is where you go,” he said, indicating the office with a nod.
+“You,” he grunted to Toppy, “sit right where you are till we go see the
+boss.”
+
+An Indian squaw, nearly as broad as she was tall, came waddling out of
+the store as Miss Pearson stepped stiffly from the sleigh. Toppy wished
+for courage to get out and carry the girl’s suitcase, but he feared that
+his action would be misinterpreted; so he sat still, eagerly watching
+out of the corner of his eyes.
+
+“I carry um,” said the squaw as the girl dragged forth her baggage. “You
+go in.”
+
+Then the sleigh drove abruptly ahead toward the great building at the
+end of the road, and Toppy’s final view of the scene was Miss Pearson
+stumping stiffly into the office-building with the squaw, the suitcase
+held in her arms, waddling behind. Miss Pearson did not look in his
+direction.
+
+And now Toppy had his first shock. For he saw that the building toward
+which they were hurrying was not a building at all, but merely a
+stockade-wall, which seemed to surround all of the camp except the six
+buildings which were outside. What he had thought a huge doorway was in
+reality a great gate.
+
+This gate swung open at their approach, and Toppy’s second shock came
+when he saw that the two hard-faced men who opened it carried in the
+crooks of their arms wicked-looking, short-barrelled repeating shotguns.
+One of the men caught the horses by the head as soon as they were
+through the gate, and brought them to a dead stop, while the other
+closed the gate behind them.
+
+“Can’t you see the boss is busy?” snapped the man who had stopped the
+team. “You wait right here till he’s through.”
+
+Toppy now saw that they had driven into a quadrangle, three sides of
+which were composed of long, low, log buildings with doors and windows
+cut at frequent intervals, the fourth side being formed by the
+stockade-wall through which they had just passed. The open space which
+thus lay between four walls of solid logs was perhaps fifty yards long
+by twenty-five yards wide. In his first swift sight of the place Toppy
+saw that, with the stockade-gate closed and two men with riot-guns on
+guard, the place was nothing more nor less than an effective prison.
+Then his attention was riveted spellbound by what was taking place in
+the yard.
+
+On the sunny side of the yard a group of probably a dozen men were
+huddled against the log wall. Two things struck Toppy as he looked at
+them—their similarity to the group of Slavs he had seen back in Rail
+Head, and the complete terror in their faces as they cringed tightly
+against the log wall. Perhaps ten feet in front of them, and facing
+them, stood a man alone. And Toppy, as he beheld the terror with which
+the dozen shrank back from the one, and as he looked at the man, knew
+that he was looking upon Hell-Camp Reivers, the man who was called The
+Snow-Burner.
+
+Toppy Treplin was not an impressionable young man. He had lived much and
+swiftly and among many kinds of men, and it took something remarkable in
+the man-line to surprise him. But the sight of Reivers brought from him
+a start, and he sat staring, completely fascinated by the Manager’s
+presence.
+
+It was not the size of Reivers that held him, for Toppy at first glance
+judged correctly that Reivers and himself might have come from the same
+mold so far as height and weight were concerned. Neither was it the
+terrible physical power which fairly reeked from the man; for though
+Reivers’ rough clothing seemed merely light draperies on the huge
+muscles that lay beneath, Toppy had played with strong men,
+professionals and amateurs, enough to be blasé in the face of a physical
+Colossus. It was the calm, ghastly brutality of the man, the complete
+brutality of an animal, dominated by a human intelligence, that held
+Toppy spellbound.
+
+Reivers, as he stood there alone, glowering at the poor wretches who
+cowered from him like pygmies, was like a tiger preparing to spring and
+carefully calculating where his claws and fangs might sink in with most
+damage to his victims. He stood with his feet close together, his thumbs
+hooked carelessly in his trousers pockets, his head thrust far forward.
+Toppy had a glimpse of a long, thin nose, thin lips parted in a sneer,
+heavily browed eyes, and, beneath the back-thrust cap, a mass of curly
+light hair—hair as light as the girl’s! Then Reivers spoke.
+
+“Rosky!” he said in a voice that was half snarl, half bellow.
+
+There was a troubled movement among the dozen men huddled against the
+wall, but there came no answer.
+
+“Rosky! Step out!” commanded Reivers in a tone whose studied ferocity
+made Toppy shudder.
+
+In response, a tall, broad-shouldered Slav, the oldest and largest man
+in the group, stepped sullenly out and stood a yard in front of his
+fellows. He had taken off his cap and held it tightly in his clenched
+right hand, and the expression on his flat face as he stood with hanging
+head and scowled at Reivers was one half of fear and half of defiance.
+
+“You no can hit me,” he muttered doggedly. “I citizen; I got first
+papers.”
+
+Reivers’s manner underwent a change.
+
+“Hit you?” he repeated softly. “Who wants to hit you? I just want to
+talk with you. I hear you’re thinking of quitting. I hear you’ve planned
+to take these fellows with you when you go. How about it, Rosky?”
+
+“I got papers,” said the man sullenly. “I citizen; I quit job when I
+want.”
+
+“Yes?” said Reivers gently. It was like a tiger playing with a hedgehog,
+and Toppy sickened. “But you signed to stay here six months, didn’t
+you?”
+
+The gentleness of the Manager had deceived the thick-witted Slav and he
+grew bold.
+
+“I drunk when I sign,” he said loudly. “All these fellow drunk when they
+sign. I quit. They quit. You no can keep us here if we no want stay.”
+
+“I can’t?” Still Reivers saw fit to play with his victim.
+
+“No,” said the man. “And you no dare hit us again, no.”
+
+“No?” purred Reivers softly. “No, certainly not; I wouldn’t hit you.
+You’re quite right, Rosky. I won’t hit you; no.”
+
+He was standing at least seven feet from his man, his feet close
+together, his thumbs still hooked in his trousers pockets. Suddenly, and
+so swiftly that Rosky did not have time to move, Reivers took a step
+forward and shot out his right foot. His boot seemed barely to touch the
+shin-bone of Rosky’s right leg, but Toppy heard the bone snap as the
+Slav, with a shriek of pain and terror, fell face downward, prone in the
+trampled snow at Reivers’ feet.
+
+And Reivers did not look at him. He was standing as before, as if
+nothing had happened, as if he had not moved. His eyes were upon the
+other men, who, appalled at their leader’s fate, huddled more closely
+against the log wall.
+
+“Well, how about it?” demanded Reivers icily after a long silence. “Any
+more of you fellows think you want to quit?”
+
+Half of the dozen cried out in terror:
+
+“No, no! We no quit. Please, boss; we no quit.”
+
+A smile of complete contempt curled Reivers’ thin upper lip.
+
+“You poor scum, of course you ain’t going to quit,” he sneered. “You’ll
+stay here and slave away until I’m through with you. And don’t you even
+dare think of quitting. Rosky thought he’d kept his plans mighty
+secret—thought I wouldn’t know what he was planning. You see what
+happened to him.
+
+“I know everything that’s going on in this camp. If you don’t believe
+it, try it out and see. Now pick this thing up—” he stirred the groaning
+Rosky contemptuously with his foot—“and carry him into his bunk. I’ll be
+around and set his leg when I get ready. Then get back to the rock-pile
+and make up for the time it’s taken to teach you this lesson.”
+
+The brutality of the thing had frozen Toppy motionless where he sat in
+the sleigh. At the same time he was conscious of a thrill of admiration
+for the dominant creature who had so contemptuously crippled a fellow
+man. A brute Reivers certainly was, and well he deserved the name of
+Hell-Camp Reivers; but a born captain he was, too, though his dominance
+was of a primordial sort.
+
+Turning instantly from his victim as from a piece of business that is
+finished, Reivers looked around and came toward the sleigh. Some
+primitive instinct prompted Toppy to step out and stretch himself
+leisurely, his long arms above his head, his big chest inflated to the
+limit. At the sight of him a change came over Reivers’ face. The
+brutality and contempt went out of it like a flash. His eyes lighted up
+with pleasure at the sight of Toppy’s magnificent proportions, and he
+smiled a quick smile of comradeship, such as one smiles when he meets a
+fellow and equal, and held out his hand to Toppy.
+
+“University man, I’ll wager,” he said, in the easy voice of a man of
+culture. “Glad to see you; more than glad! These beasts are palling on
+me. They’re so cursed physical—no mind, no spirit in them. Nothing but
+so many pounds of meat and bone. Old Campbell, my blacksmith, is the
+only other intelligent being in camp, and he’s Scotch and believes in
+predestination and original sin, so his conversation’s rather trying for
+a steady diet.”
+
+Toppy shook hands, amazed beyond expression. Except for his shaggy
+eyebrows—brows that somehow reminded Toppy of the head of a bear he had
+once shot—Reivers now was the sort of man one would expect to meet in
+the University Club rather than in a logging-camp. The brute had
+vanished, the gentleman had appeared; and Toppy was forced to smile in
+answer to Reivers’ genial smile of greeting. And yet, somewhere back in
+Reivers’ blue eyes Toppy saw lurking something which said, “I am your
+master—doubt it if you dare.”
+
+“I hired out as blacksmith’s helper,” he explained. “My name’s Treplin.”
+
+He did not take his eyes from Reivers’. Somehow he had the sensation
+that Reivers’ will and his own had leaped to a grapple.
+
+Reivers laughed aloud in friendly fashion.
+
+“Blacksmith’s helper, eh?” he said. “That’s good; that’s awfully good!
+Well, old man, I don’t care what you hired out for, or what your right
+name is; you’re a developed human being and you’ll be somebody to talk
+to when these brutes grow too tiresome.” He turned to Jerry, the driver.
+“Well?” he said curtly.
+
+“She’s in the office now,” he said.
+
+“All right.” Reivers turned and went briskly toward the gate. “Turn Mr.
+Treplin over to Campbell. You’ll live with Campbell, Treplin,” he called
+over his shoulder, as he went through the gate. “And you hit the back
+trail, Jerry, right away.”
+
+As Jerry swung the team around Toppy saw that Reivers was going toward
+the office with long, eager strides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V—TOPPY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION
+
+
+Old Campbell, the blacksmith, had knocked off from the day’s work when,
+a few minutes later, Toppy stepped from the sleigh before the door of
+the shop.
+
+“Go through the shop to that room in the back,” said Jerry. “You’ll find
+him in there.” And he drove off without another word.
+
+Toppy walked in and knocked at a door in a partition across the rear of
+the shop.
+
+“Come in,” spluttered a moist, cheery voice, and Toppy entered. The old
+blacksmith, naked to the waist and soaped from shoulders to ears, looked
+up from the steaming tub in which he was carefully removing every trace
+of the day’s smut. He peered sharply at Toppy, and at the sight of the
+young man’s good-natured face he smiled warmly through the suds.
+
+“Come in, come in. Shut the door,” he cried, plunging back into the hot
+water. “I tak’ it that you’re my new helper? Well—” he wiped the suds
+from his eyes and looked Toppy over—“though it’s plain ye never did a
+day’s blacksmithing in your life, I bid ye welcome, nevertheless. Ye
+look like an educated man. Well, ’twill be a pleasure and an honour for
+me to teach ye something more important than all ye’ve learned
+before—and that is, how to work.
+
+“I see ye cam’ withoot baggage of any kind. Go ye now across to the
+store before it closes and draw yerself two blankets for yer bunk. By
+the time you’re back I’ll have our supper started and then we’ll proceed
+to get acqua’nted.”
+
+“Tell me!” exploded Toppy, who could hold in no longer. “What kind of a
+man or beast is this Reivers? Why, I just saw him deliberately break a
+man’s leg out there in the yard! What kind of a place is this, anyhow—a
+penal colony?”
+
+Campbell turned away and picked up a towel before replying.
+
+“Reivers is a great man who worships after strange gods,” he said
+solemnly. “But you’ll have plenty of time to learn about that later. Go
+ye over to the store now without further waiting. Ye’ll find them closed
+if ye dally longer; and then ye’ll have a cold night, for there’s no
+blankets here for your bunk. Hustle, lad; we’ll talk about things after
+supper.”
+
+Toppy obeyed cheerfully. It was growing dark now, and as he stepped out
+of the shop he saw the squaw lighting the lamps in the building across
+the street. Toppy crossed over and found the door open. Inside there was
+a small hallway with two doors, one labelled “Store,” the other
+“Office.” Toppy was about to enter the store, when he heard Miss
+Pearson’s voice in the office, and her first words, which came plainly
+through the partition, made him pause.
+
+“Mr. Reivers,” she was saying in tones that she struggled to make firm,
+“you know that if I had known you were running this camp I would never
+have come here. You deceived me. You signed the name of Simmons to your
+letter. You knew that if you had signed your own name I would not be
+here. You tricked me.
+
+“And you promised solemnly last Summer when I told you I never could
+care for you that you would never trouble me again. How could you do
+this? You’ve got the reputation among men of never breaking your word.
+Why couldn’t you—why couldn’t you keep your word with me—a woman?”
+
+Toppy, playing the role of eavesdropper for the first time, scarcely
+breathed as he caught the full import of these words. Then Reivers began
+to speak, his deep voice rich with earnestness and feeling.
+
+“I will—I am keeping my word to you, Helen,” he said. “I said I would
+not trouble you again; and I will not. It’s true that I did not let you
+know that I was running this camp; and I did it because I wanted you to
+have this job, and I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew I was here. You
+wouldn’t let me give you, or even loan you, the three hundred dollars
+necessary for your father’s operation.
+
+“I know you, Helen, and I know that you haven’t had a happy day since
+you were told that your father would be a well man after an operation
+and you couldn’t find the money to pay for it. I knew you were going to
+work in hopes of earning it. I had this place to fill in the office
+here; I was authorised to pay as high as seventy-five dollars for a good
+bookkeeper. Naturally I thought of you.
+
+“I knew there was no other place where you could earn seventy-five
+dollars a month, and save it. I knew you wouldn’t come if I wrote you
+over my own name. So I signed Simmons’ name, and you came. I said I
+would not trouble you any more, and I keep my word. The situation is
+this: you will be in charge of this office—if you stay; I am in charge
+of the camp. You will have little or nothing to do with me; I will
+manage so that you will need to see me only when absolutely necessary.
+Your living-rooms are in the rear of the office. I live in the stockade.
+Tilly, the squaw, will cook and wash for you, and do the hard work in
+the store. In four months you will have the three hundred dollars that
+you want for your father.
+
+“I had much rather you would accept it from me as a loan on a simple
+business basis; but as you won’t, this is the next best thing. And you
+mustn’t feel that you are accepting any favour from me. On the contrary,
+you will, if you stay, be solving a big problem for me. I simply can not
+handle accounts. A strange bookkeeper could rob me and the company
+blind, and I’d never know it. I know you won’t do that; and I know that
+you’re efficient.
+
+“That’s the situation. I am keeping my word; I will not trouble you. If
+you decide to accept, go in and take off your hat and coat and tell
+Tilly to prepare supper for you. She will obey your orders blindly; I
+have told her to. If you decide that you don’t want to stay, say the
+word and I will have one of the work-teams hooked up and you can go back
+to Rail Head to-night.
+
+“But whichever you do, Helen, please remember that I have not broken—and
+never will break—my promise to you.”
+
+Before Reivers had begun to speak Toppy had hated the man as a
+contemptible sneak guilty of lying to get the girl at his mercy. The end
+of the Manager’s speech left him bewildered. One couldn’t help wanting
+to believe every word that Reivers said, there were so much manliness
+and sincerity in his tone. On the other hand, Toppy had seen his face
+when he was handling the unfortunate Rosky, and the unashamed brute that
+had showed itself then did not fit with this remarkable speech. Then
+Toppy heard Reivers coming toward the door.
+
+“I will leave you; you can make up your mind alone,” he said. “I’ve got
+to attend to one of the men who has been hurt. If you decide to go back
+to Rail Head, tell Tilly, and she’ll hunt me up and I’ll send a team
+over right away.”
+
+He stepped briskly out in the hallway and saw Toppy standing with his
+hand on the door of the store.
+
+“Oh, hello, there!” he called out cheerily. “Campbell tell you to draw
+your blankets? That’s the first step in the process of becoming a—guest
+at Hell Camp. Get a pair of XX; they’re the warmest.”
+
+He passed swiftly out of the building.
+
+“I say, Treplin,” he called back from a distance, “did you ever set a
+broken leg?”
+
+“Never,” said Toppy.
+
+“I’ll give you ‘Davis on Fractures’ to read up on,” said Reivers with a
+laugh. “I think I’ll appoint you M.D. to this camp. ‘Doctor Treplin.’
+How would that be?”
+
+His careless laughter came floating back as he made his way swiftly to
+the stockade.
+
+For a moment Toppy stood irresolute. Then he did something that required
+more courage from him than anything he had done before in his life. He
+stepped boldly across the hallway and entered the office, closing the
+door behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI—“NICE BOY!”
+
+
+“Miss Pearson!” Toppy spoke as he crossed the threshold; then he stopped
+short.
+
+The girl was sitting in a big chair before a desk in the farther corner
+of the room. She was dressed just as she had been on the drive; she had
+not removed cap, coat or gloves since arriving. Her hands lay palms up
+in her lap, her square little shoulders sagged, and her face was pale
+and troubled. A tiny crease of worry had come between her wonderful blue
+eyes, and her gaze wandered uncertainly, as if seeking help in the face
+of a problem that had proved too hard for her to handle alone. At the
+sight of Toppy, instead of giving way to a look of relief, her troubled
+expression deepened. She started. She seemed even to shrink from him.
+The words froze in Toppy’s mouth and he stood stock-still.
+
+“Don’t!” he groaned boyishly. “Please don’t look at me like that, Miss
+Pearson! I—I’m not that sort. I want to help you—if you need it. I heard
+what Reivers just said. I——What do you take me for, anyhow? A mucker who
+would force himself upon a lady?”
+
+The anguish in his tone and in his honest, good-natured countenance was
+too real to be mistaken. He had cried out from the depths of a clean
+heart which had been stirred strangely, and the woman in the girl
+responded with quick sympathy. She looked at him with a look that would
+have aroused the latent manhood in a cad—which Toppy was not—and Toppy,
+in his eagerness, found that he could look back.
+
+“Why did you come out here?” she asked plaintively. “Why did you decide
+to follow me, after you had heard that I was coming here? I know you did
+that; you hadn’t intended coming here until you heard. What made you do
+it?”
+
+“Because you came here,” said Toppy honestly.
+
+“But why—why——”
+
+Toppy had regained control of himself.
+
+“Why do you think I did it, Miss Pearson?” he asked quietly.
+
+“I—I don’t want to think—what I think,” she stammered.
+
+“And that is that I’m a cad, the sort of a mucker who forces his
+attentions upon women who are alone.”
+
+“Well—” she looked up with a challenge in her eyes—“you had been
+drinking, hadn’t you? Could you blame me if I did?”
+
+“Not a bit,” said Toppy. “I’m the one whose to blame. I’m the goat. I
+don’t suppose I had a right to butt in. Of course I didn’t. I’m a big
+fool; always have been. I—I just couldn’t stand for seeing you start out
+for this Hell Camp alone; that’s all. It’s no reason, I know, but—there
+you are. I’d heard something of the place in the morning and I had a
+notion it was a pretty tough place. You—you didn’t look as if you were
+used to anything of the sort——Well,” he wound up desperately, “it didn’t
+look right, your going off alone among all these roughnecks; and—and
+that’s why I butted in.”
+
+She made no reply, and Toppy continued:
+
+“I didn’t have any right to do it, I know. I deserve to be suspected——”
+
+“No!” she laughed. “Please, Mr. Treplin! That was horrid of me.”
+
+“Why was it?” he demanded abruptly. “Especially after you knew—after
+this morning. But—here’s the situation: I thought you might need a
+side-kicker to see you through, and I appointed myself to the job. You
+won’t believe that, I suppose, but that’s because you don’t know how
+foolish I can be.”
+
+He stopped clumsily, abashed by the wondering scrutiny to which she was
+subjecting him. She arose slowly from the chair and came toward him.
+
+“I believe you, Mr. Treplin,” she said. “I believe you’re a decent sort
+of boy. I want to thank you; but why—why should you think this
+necessary?”
+
+She looked at him, smiling a little, and Toppy, wincing from her “boy,”
+grew flustered.
+
+“Well, you’re not sorry I came?” he stammered.
+
+For reply she shook her head. Toppy took a long breath.
+
+“Thanks!” he said with such genuine relief that she was forced to smile.
+
+“But I’m a perfect stranger to you,” she said uncertainly. “I can’t
+understand why you should feel prompted to sacrifice yourself so to help
+me.”
+
+“Sacrifice!” cried Toppy. “Why, I’m the one——” He stopped. He didn’t
+know just what he had intended to say. Something that he had no business
+saying, probably. “Anybody would have done it—anybody who wasn’t a
+mucker, I mean. You can’t have any use for me, of course, knowing what
+kind of a dub I’ve been, but if you’ll just look on me as somebody you
+can trust and fall back on in case of need, and who’ll do anything you
+want or need, I—I’ll be more than paid.”
+
+“I do trust you, Mr. Treplin,” she said, and held out her hand. “But—do
+I look as if I needed a chaperon?”
+
+Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved fingers.
+
+“I told you I’d heard what Reivers said,” he said hastily. “I didn’t
+mean to; I was just coming in to get some blankets. I don’t suppose
+you’re going to stay here now, are you?”
+
+She began to draw off her gloves.
+
+“Yes,” she said quietly. “Mr. Reivers is a gentleman and can be depended
+upon to keep his word.”
+
+Toppy winced once more. She had called him a “decent boy”; she spoke of
+Reivers as a “gentleman.”
+
+“But—good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred dollars——if that’s
+all——”
+
+He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something like a click.
+
+“Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend me that much money?”
+she asked. “Didn’t you hear that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And
+Mr. Reivers isn’t a complete stranger to me—as you are.”
+
+She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to unbutton her
+mackinaw.
+
+“I don’t think you could mean anything wrong by it,” she continued. “But
+please don’t mention it again. You don’t wish to humiliate me, do you?”
+
+“Miss Pearson!” stammered Toppy, miserable.
+
+“Don’t, please don’t,” she said. “It’s all right.” Her natural high
+spirits were returning. “Everything’s all right. Mr. Reivers never
+breaks his word, and he’s promised—you heard him, you say? And you’ve
+promised to be my—what did you call it?—‘side-kicker,’ so everything’s
+fine. Except—” a look of disgust passed over her eyes—“your drinking.
+Oh,” she cried as she saw the shame flare into Toppy’s face, “I didn’t
+mean to hurt you—but how can nice boys like you throw themselves away?”
+
+Nice boy! Toppy looked at his toes for a long time. So that was what she
+thought of him! Nice boy!
+
+“Do you know much about Reivers?” he asked at last, as if he had
+forgotten her words. “Or don’t you want to tell me about him?” He had
+sensed that he was infinitely Reivers’ inferior in her estimation, and
+it hurt.
+
+“Certainly I do,” she said. “Mr. Reivers was a foreman for the company
+that my father was estimator for. When father was hurt last Summer Mr.
+Reivers came to see him on company business. It’s father’s spine; he
+couldn’t move; Reivers had to come to him. He saw me, and two hours
+after our meeting he—he asked me to marry him. He asked me again a week
+later, and once after that. Then I told him that I never could care for
+him and he went away and promised he’d never trouble me again. You heard
+our conversation. I hadn’t seen or heard of him since, until he walked
+into this room. That’s all I know about him, except that people say he
+never breaks his word.”
+
+Toppy winced as he caught the note of confidence in her voice and
+thought of the sudden deadly treachery of Reivers in dealing with Rosky.
+The girl with a lithe movement threw off her mackinaw.
+
+“By Jove!” Toppy exploded in boyish admiration. “You’re the bravest
+little soul I ever saw in my life! Going against a game like this, just
+to help your father!”
+
+“Well, why shouldn’t I?” she asked. “I’m the only one father has got.
+We’re all alone, father and I; and father is too proud to take help from
+any one else; and—and,” she concluded firmly, “so am I. As for being
+brave—have you anything against Mr. Reivers personally?”
+
+Thoroughly routed, Toppy turned to the door. “Good night, Miss Pearson,”
+he said politely.
+
+“Good night, Mr. Treplin. And thank you for—going out of your way.” But
+had she seen the flash in Toppy’s eye and the set of his jaw she might
+not have laughed so merrily as he flung out of the room.
+
+In the store on the other side of the hallway Toppy was surprised to
+find Tilly, the squaw, waiting patiently behind a low counter on which
+lay a pair of blankets bearing a tag “XX.” As he entered, the woman
+pushed the blankets toward him and pointed to a card lying on the
+counter.
+
+“Put um name here,” she said, indicating a dotted line on the card and
+offering Toppy a pencil tied on a string.
+
+Toppy saw that the card was a receipt for the blankets. As he signed, he
+looked closely at the squaw. He was surprised to see that she was a
+young woman, and that her features and expression distinguished her from
+the other squaws he had seen by the intelligence they indicated. Tilly
+was no mere clod in a red skin. Somewhere back of her inscrutable Indian
+eyes was a keen, strong mind.
+
+“How did you know what I wanted?” Toppy asked as he packed the blankets
+under his arm.
+
+The squaw made no sign that she had heard. Picking up the card, she
+looked carefully at his signature and turned to hang the card on a hook.
+
+“So you were listening when Reivers was talking to me, were you?” said
+Toppy. “Did you listen after he went out?”
+
+“Mebbe,” grunted Tilly. “Mebbe so; mebbe no.” And with this she turned
+and waddled back into the living-quarters in the rear of the store.
+
+Toppy looked after her dumbfounded.
+
+“Huh!” he said to himself. “I’ll bet two to one that Reivers knows all
+about what we said before morning. I suppose that will mean something
+doing pretty quick. Well, the quicker the better.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII—THE SNOW-BURNER’S CREED
+
+
+When Toppy returned to the room in the rear of the blacksmith-shop he
+found Campbell waiting impatiently.
+
+“Eh, lad, but you’re the slow one!” greeted the gruff old Scot as Toppy
+entered. “You’re set a record in this camp; no man yet has been able to
+consume so much time getting a pair of blankets from the wannigan. Dump
+’em in yon bunk in the corner and set the table. I’ll have supper in a
+wink and a half.”
+
+Toppy obediently tossed his blankets into the bunk indicated and turned
+to help to the best of his ability. The place now was lighted generously
+by two large reflector-lamps hung on the walls, and Toppy had his first
+good view of the room that was to be his home.
+
+He was surprised at its neatness and comfort. It was a large room,
+though a little low under the roof, as rooms have a habit of being in
+the North. In the farthest corner were two bunks, the sleeping-quarters.
+Across the room from this, a corner was filled with well filled
+bookshelves, a table with a reading-lamp, and two easy chairs, giving
+the air of a tiny library. In the corner farthest from this was the
+cook-stove, and in the fourth corner stood an oilcloth-covered table
+with a shelf filled with dishes hung above it. Though the rough edges of
+hewn logs shown here and there through the plaster of the walls, the
+room was as spick and span as if under the charge of a finicky
+housewife. Old Campbell himself, bending over the cook stove, was as
+astonishing in his own way as the room. He had removed all trace of the
+day’s smithing and fairly shone with cleanliness. His snow-white hair
+was carefully combed back from his wide forehead, his bushy
+chin-whiskers likewise showed signs of water and comb, and he was garbed
+from throat to ankles in a white cook’s apron. He was cheerfully humming
+a dirge-like tune, and so occupied was he with his cookery that he
+scarcely so much as glanced at Toppy.
+
+“Now then, lad; are you ready?” he asked presently.
+
+“All ready, I guess,” said Toppy, giving a final look at the table.
+
+“You’ve forgot the bread,” said Campbell, also looking. “You’ll find it
+in yon tin box on the shelf. Lively, now.” And before Toppy had dished
+out a loaf from the bread-box the old man had a huge platter of steak
+and twin bowls of potatoes and turnips steaming on the table.
+
+“We will now say grace,” said Campbell, seating himself after removing
+the big apron, and Toppy sat silent and amazed as the old man bowed his
+head and in his deep voice solemnly uttered thanks for the meal before
+him.
+
+“Now then,” he said briskly, raising his head and reaching for a fork as
+he ended, “fall to.”
+
+The meal was eaten without any more conversation than was necessary.
+When it was over, the blacksmith pushed his chair leisurely back from
+the table and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile.
+
+“Well, lad,” he rumbled, “what would ye say was the next thing to be
+done by oursel’s?”
+
+“Wash the dishes,” said Toppy promptly, taking his cue from the
+conspicuous cleanliness of the room.
+
+“Aye,” said Campbell, nodding. “And as I cook the meal——”
+
+“I’m elected dish-washer,” laughed Toppy, springing up and taking a
+large dish-pan from the wall. He had often done his share of
+kitchen-work on hunting-trips, and soon he had the few dishes washed and
+dried and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically.
+
+“Well enough,” he said with an approving jerk of his head when the task
+was completed. “Your conscience should be easier now, lad; you’ve done
+something to pay for the meal you’ve eaten, which I’ll warrant is
+something you’ve not often done.”
+
+“No,” laughed Toppy, “it just happens that I haven’t had to.”
+
+“‘Haven’t had to!’” snorted Campbell in disgust. “Is that all the
+justification you have? Where’s your pride? Are you a helpless infant
+that you’re not ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth
+without doing anything for it? I suppose you’ve got money. And where
+came your money from? Your father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it
+came from, they’re the people who’ve been feeding you, but by the great
+smoked herring! If you stay wi’ David Campbell you’ll have a change,
+lad. Aye, you’ll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat of
+your brow. And you’ll bless the day you come here—no matter what the
+reason that made you come, and which I do not want to hear.”
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+“I’ve got no come-back to that line of conversation, Mr. Campbell,” he
+said good-naturedly. “Whenever anybody accuses me of being a bum with
+money I throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can’t get an argument
+out of me with a corkscrew.”
+
+Old Campbell’s grim face cracked in a genial smile as he rose and led
+the way to the corner containing the bookshelves.
+
+“We will now step into the library,” he chuckled. “Sit ye down.”
+
+He pushed one of the easy chairs toward Toppy, and from a cupboard under
+the reading-table drew a bottle of Scotch whisky of a celebrated brand.
+Toppy’s whole being suddenly cried out for a drink as his eyes fell on
+the familiar four stars.
+
+“Say when, lad,” said Campbell, pouring into a generous glass. “Well?”
+He looked at Toppy in surprise as the glass filled up. Something had
+smitten Toppy like a blow between the eyes——“How can nice boys like you
+throw themselves away?” And the pity of the girl as she had said it was
+large before him.
+
+“Thanks,” said Toppy, seating himself, “but I’m on the wagon.”
+
+The old smith looked up at him shrewdly from the corners of his eyes.
+
+“Oh, aye!” he grunted. “I see. Well, by the puffs under your eyes ye
+have overdone it; and for fleeing the temptations of the world I know of
+no better place ye could go to than this. For it’s certain neither
+temptations nor luxuries will be found in Hell Camp while the
+Snow-Burner’s boss.”
+
+“Now you interest me,” said Toppy grimly. “The Snow-Burner—Hell-Camp
+Reivers—Mr. Reivers—the boss. What kind of a human being is he, if he is
+human?”
+
+Campbell carefully mixed his whisky with hot water.
+
+“You saw him manhandle Rosky?” he asked, seating himself opposite Toppy.
+
+“Yes; but it wasn’t manhandling; it was brute-handling, beast-handling.”
+
+“Aye,” said the Scot, sipping his drink. “So think I, too. But do you
+know what Reivers calls it? An enlightened man showing a human clod the
+error of his ways. Oh, aye; the Indians were smart when they named him
+the Snow-Burner. He does things that aren’t natural.”
+
+“But who is he, or what is he? He’s an educated man, obviously—’way
+above what a logging-boss ought to be. What do you know about him?”
+
+“Little enough,” was the reply. “Four year ago I were smithing in Elk
+Lake Camp over east of here, when Reivers came walking into camp. That
+was the first any white men had seen of him around these woods, though
+afterward we learned he’d lived long enough with the Indians to earn the
+name of the Snow-Burner.
+
+“It were January, and two feet of snow on the level, and fifty below.
+Reivers came walking into camp, and the nearest human habitation were
+forty mile away. ‘Red Pat’ Haney were foreman—a man-killer with the
+devil’s own temper; and him Reivers deeliberately set himself to arouse.
+A week after his coming, this same Reivers had every man in camp looking
+up to him, except Red Pat.
+
+“And Reivers drove Pat half mad with that contemptuous smile of his, and
+Pat pulled a gun; and Reivers says, ‘That’s what I was waiting for,’ and
+broke Pat’s bones with his bare hands and laid him up. Then, says he,
+‘This camp is going on just the same as if nothing had happened, and I’m
+going to be boss.’ That was all there was to it; he’s been a boss ever
+since.”
+
+“And you don’t know where he came from? Or anything else about him?”
+
+“Oh, he’s from England—an Oxford man, for that matter,” said Campbell.
+“He admitted that much once when we were argufying. He’ll be here soon;
+he comes to quarrel with me every evening.”
+
+“Why does an Oxford man want to be ’way out here bossing a
+logging-camp?” grumbled Toppy.
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+“Aye, I asked that of him once,” he said. “‘Though it’s none of your
+business,’ says he, ‘I’ll tell you. I got tired of living where people
+snivel about laws concerning right and wrong,’ says he, ‘instead of
+acknowledging that there is only one law ruling life—that the strong can
+master the weak.’ That is Mr. Reivers’ religion. He was only worshipping
+his strange gods when he broke Rosky’s leg, for he considers Rosky a
+weaker man than himself, and therefore ’tis his duty to break him to his
+own will.”
+
+“A fine religion!” snapped Toppy. “And how about his dealings with you?”
+
+The Scot smiled grimly.
+
+“I’m the best smith he ever had,” he replied, “and I’ve warned him that
+I’d consider it a duty under my religion to shoot him through the head
+did he ever attempt to force his creed upon me.” He paused and held up a
+finger. “Hist, lad. That’s him coming noo. He’s come for his regular
+evening’s mouthfu’ of conversation.”
+
+Toppy found himself sitting up and gripping the arms of his chair as
+Reivers came swinging in. He eagerly searched the foreman’s countenance
+for a sign to indicate whether Tilly, the squaw, had communicated the
+conversation she had heard between Toppy and Miss Pearson, but if she
+had there was nothing to indicate it in Reivers’ expression or manner.
+His self-mastery awoke a sullen rage in Toppy. He felt himself to be a
+boy beside Reivers.
+
+“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Reivers lightly, pulling a chair up
+to the reading-table. “It is a pleasure to find intelligent society
+after having spent the last hour handling the broken leg of a miserable
+brute on two legs. Bah! The whisky, Scotty, please. I wonder what
+miracles of misbreeding have been necessary to turn out alleged human
+beings with bodies so hideous compared to what the human body should be.
+Treplin, if you or I stripped beside those Hunkies the only thing we’d
+have in common would be the number of our legs and arms.”
+
+He drew toward him a tumbler which Campbell had pushed over beside the
+bottle and, filling the glass three-quarters full, began to drink slowly
+at the powerful Scotch whisky as another man might sip at beer or light
+wine. Old Campbell rocked slowly to and fro in his chair.
+
+“‘He that taketh up the sword shall perish by the sword,’” he quoted
+solemnly. “No man is a god to set himself up, lord over the souls and
+bodies of his fellows. They will put out your light for you one of these
+days, Mr. Reivers. Have care and treat them a little more like men.”
+
+Reivers smiled a quick smile that showed a mouthful of teeth as clean
+and white as a hound’s.
+
+“Let’s have your opinion on the subject, Treplin,” he said. “New
+opinions are always interesting, and Scotty repeats the same thing over
+and over again. What do you think of it? Do you think I can maintain my
+rule over those hundred and fifty clods out there in the stockade as I
+am ruling them, through the law of strength over weakness? Do you think
+one superior mind can dominate a hundred and fifty inferior organisms?
+Or do you think, with Scotty here, that the dregs can drag me down?”
+
+Toppy shook his head. He was in no mood to debate abstract problems with
+Reivers.
+
+“Count me out until I’m a little acquainted with the situation,” he
+said. “I’m a stranger in a strange land. I’ve just dropped in—from
+almost another world you might say.”
+
+In a vain attempt to escape taking sides in what was evidently an old
+argument he hurriedly rattled off the story of his coming to Rail Head
+and thence to Hell Camp, omitting to mention, however, that it was Miss
+Pearson who was responsible for the latter part of his journey. Reivers
+smote his huge fist upon the table as Toppy finished.
+
+“That’s the kind of a man for me!” he laughed. “Got tired of living the
+life of his class, and just stepped out of it. No explanations; no
+acknowledgement of obligations to anybody. Master of his own soul. To ——
+with the niceties of civilisation! Treplin, you’re a man after my own
+scheme of life; I did the same thing once—only I was sober.
+
+“But let’s get back to our subject. Here’s the situation: This camp is
+on a natural town-site. There’s water-power, ore and timber. To use the
+water-power we must build a dam; to use the timber we must get it to the
+saws. That takes labour, lots of it—muscle-and-bone labour. Labour is
+scarce up here. It is too far from the pigsties of towns. Men would
+come, work a few days, and go away. The purpose of the place would be
+defeated—unless the men are kept here at work.
+
+“That’s what I do. I keep them here. To do it I keep them locked up at
+night like the cattle they are. By day I have them guarded by armed
+man-killers—every one of my guards is a fugitive from man’s silly laws,
+principally from the one which says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’
+
+“But my best guard is Fear—by which I rule alike my guards and the poor
+brutes who are necessary to my purpose. There you are: a hundred and
+fifty of them, fearing and hating me, and I’m making them do as I
+please. No foolishness about laws, about order, about right or wrong.
+Just a hundred and fifty half-beasts and myself out here in the woods.
+As a man with a trained mind, do you think I can keep it up? Or do you
+think there is mental energy enough in that mess of human protoplasm to
+muster up nerve enough to put out my light, as Scotty puts it? It’s a
+problem that furnishes interesting mental gymnastics.”
+
+He propounded the problem with absolutely no trace of personal interest.
+To judge by his manner, the matter of his life or death meant nothing to
+him. It was merely an interesting question on which to expend the energy
+fulminating in his mind. In his light-blue eyes there seemed to gleam
+the same impersonal brutality which had shown out when he so casually
+crippled Rosky.
+
+“Oh, it’s an impossible proposition, Reivers!” exploded Toppy, with the
+picture of the writhing Slav in his mind’s eye. “You’ve got to consider
+right and wrong when dealing with human beings. It isn’t natural; Nature
+won’t stand it.”
+
+“Ah!” Reivers’ eyes lighted up with intellectual delight. “That’s an
+idea! Scotty, you hear? You’ve been talking about my perishing by the
+sword, but you haven’t given any reason why. Treplin does. He says
+Nature will revolt, because my system is unnatural.” He threw back his
+head and laughed coldly. “Rot, Treplin—silly, effeminate, bookish rot!”
+he roared. “Nature has respect only for the strong. It creates the
+weaker species merely to give the stronger food to remain strong on.”
+
+Old Scotty had been rocking furiously. Now he stopped suddenly and broke
+out into a furious Biblical denunciation of Reivers’ system. When he
+stopped for breath after his first outbreak, Reivers with a few words
+and a cold smile egged him on. Toppy gladly kept his mouth shut. After
+an hour he yawned and arose from his chair.
+
+“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll turn in,” he said. “I’m too sleepy to listen
+or talk.”
+
+Without looking at him Reivers drew a book from his pocket and tossed it
+toward him.
+
+“‘Davis on Fractures’,” he grunted. “Cram up on it to-morrow. There will
+be need of your help before long. Go on, Scotty; you were saying that a
+just retribution was Nature’s law. Go on.”
+
+And Toppy rolled into his bunk, to lie wide awake, listening to the
+argument, marvelling at the character of Reivers, and pondering over the
+strange situation he had fallen into. He scarcely thought of what Harvey
+Duncombe and the bunch would be thinking about his disappearance. His
+thoughts were mainly occupied with wondering why, of all the women he
+had seen, a slender little girl with golden hair should suddenly mean so
+much to him. Nothing of the sort ever had happened to him before. It was
+rather annoying. Could she ever have a good opinion of him?
+
+Probably not. And even if she could, what about Reivers? Toppy was
+firmly convinced that the speech which Reivers had made to Miss Pearson
+was a false one. Reivers might have a great reputation for always
+keeping his word, but Toppy, after what he had seen and heard, would no
+more trust to his morals than those of a hungry bear. If Tilly, the
+squaw, told Reivers what she had heard, what then? Well, in that case
+they would soon know whether Reivers meant to keep his promise not to
+bother Miss Pearson with his attentions. Toppy set his jaw grimly at the
+thought of what might happen then. The mere thought of Reivers seemed to
+make his fists clench hard.
+
+He lay awake for a long time with Reivers’ voice, coldly bantering
+Campbell, constantly in his ears. When Reivers finally went away he fell
+asleep. Before his closed eyes was the picture of the girl as, in the
+morning, she had kicked up the snow and looked up at him with her eyes
+deliciously puckered from the sun; and in his memory was the stinging
+recollection that she had called him a “nice boy.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII—TOPPY WORKS
+
+
+At daylight next morning began Toppy’s initiation as a blacksmith’s
+helper. For the next four days he literally earned his bread in the
+sweat of his brow, as Campbell had warned him he would. The dour old
+Scot took it as his religious duty to give his helper a severe
+introduction to the world of manual labour, and circumstances aided him
+in his aim.
+
+Two dozen huge wooden sleighs had come from the “wood-butcher”—the camp
+carpenter-shop—to be fitted with cross-rods, brace-irons and runners.
+Out in the woods the ice-roads, carefully sprinkled each night, were
+alternately freezing and thawing, gradually approaching the solid
+condition which would mean a sudden call for sleighs to haul the logs,
+which lay mountain-high at the rollways, down to the river. One cold
+night and day now, and the call would come, and David Campbell was not
+the man to be found wanting—even if handicapped by a helper with hands
+as soft as a woman’s.
+
+Toppy had no knowledge or skill in the trade, but he had strength and
+quickness, and the thoughts of Reivers’ masterfulness, and the “nice
+boy” in the mouth of the girl, spurred him to the limit. The heavy
+sledgework fell to his lot as a matter of course. A twenty-pound sledge
+was a plaything in Toppy’s hand—for the first fifteen minutes.
+
+After that the hammer seemed to increase progressively in weight, until
+at the end of the first day’s work Toppy would gladly have credited the
+statement that it weighed a ton. Likewise the heavy runner-irons, which
+he lifted with ease on the anvil in the morning, seemed to grow heavier
+as the day grew older. Had Toppy been in the splendid condition that had
+helped him to win his place on the All-American eleven four years
+before, he might have gone through the cruel period of breaking-in
+without faltering. But four years of reckless living had taken their
+toll. The same magnificent frame and muscles were there; the great heart
+and grit and sand likewise. But there was something else there, too; the
+softening, weakening traces of decomposed alcohol in organs and tissues,
+and under the strain of the terrific pace which old Campbell set for
+Toppy, abused organs, fibres and nerves began to creak and groan, and
+finally called out, “Halt!”
+
+It was only Toppy’s grit—the “great heart” that had made him a
+champion—and the desire to prove his strength before Reivers that kept
+him at work after the first day. His body had quit cold. He had never
+before undergone such expenditure of muscular energy, not even in the
+fiercest game of his career. That was play; this was torture. On the
+second morning his body shrank involuntarily from the spectacle of the
+torturing sledge, anvil and irons, but pride and grit drove him on with
+set jaw and hard eyes. Quit? Well, hardly. Reivers walked around the
+camp and smiled as he saw Toppy sweating, and Toppy swore and went on.
+
+On the third day old Campbell looked at him with curiosity.
+
+“Well, lad, have ye had enough?” he asked, smiling pityingly. “Ye can
+get a job helping the cookee if you find man’s work too hard for ye.”
+
+Toppy, between clenched teeth, swore savagely. He was so tired that he
+was sick. The toxins of fatigue, aided and abetted by the effects of
+hard living, had poisoned him until his feet and brain felt as heavy as
+lead. It hurt him to move and it hurt him to think. He was groggy, all
+but knocked out; but something within him held him doggedly at the tasks
+which were surely mastering him.
+
+That night he dragged himself to bed without waiting for supper. In the
+morning Campbell was amazed to see him tottering toward his accustomed
+place in the shop; for old Campbell had set a pace that had racked his
+own iron, work-tried body, and he had allowed Toppy two days in which to
+cry enough.
+
+“Hold up a little, lad,” he grumbled. “We’re away ahead of our job.
+There’s no need laying yourself up. Take you a rest.”
+
+“You go to ——!” exploded the overwrought Toppy. “Take a rest yourself if
+you need one; I don’t.”
+
+He was working on his nerve now, flogging his weary arms and body to do
+his bidding against their painful protests; and he worked like a madman,
+fearing that if he came to a halt the run-down machinery would refuse to
+start afresh.
+
+It was near evening when a teamster drove up with a broken sleigh from
+which Campbell and the man strove in vain to tear the twisted runner.
+Reivers from the steps of the store looked on, sneering. Toppy, his lips
+drawn back with pain and weariness, laughed shrilly at the efforts of
+the pair.
+
+“Yank it off!” he cried contemptuously. “Yank it off—like this.”
+
+He drove a pry-iron under the runner and heaved. It refused to budge.
+Toppy gathered himself under the pry and jerked with every ounce of
+energy in him. The runner did not move. His left ankle felt curiously
+weak under the awful strain. Across the way he heard Reivers laugh
+shortly. Furiously Toppy jerked again; the runner flew into the air.
+Toppy felt the weak ankle sag under him in unaccountable fashion, and he
+fell heavily on his side and lay still.
+
+“Sprained his ankle,” grunted the teamster, as they bore him to his
+bunk. “I knew something had to give. No man ever was made to stand up
+under that lift.”
+
+“But I yanked it off!” groaned Toppy, half wild with pain. “I didn’t
+quit—I yanked the darn thing off!”
+
+“Aye,” said old Campbell, “you yanked it off, lad. Lay still now till we
+have off your shoe.”
+
+“And holy smoke!” said the teamster. “What a yank! Hey! Whoap! Holy,
+red-roaring—he’s gone and fainted!”
+
+This latter statement was not precisely true. Toppy had not fainted; he
+had suddenly succumbed to the demands of complete exhaustion. The
+overdriven, tired-out organs, wrenched and abused tissues, and
+fatigue-deadened nerves suddenly had cried, “Stop!” in a fashion that
+not all of Toppy’s will-power could deny. One instant he lay flat on his
+back on the blankets of his bunk, wide awake, with Campbell tugging at
+the laces of his shoes; the next—a mighty sigh of peace heaved his big
+chest. Toppy had fallen asleep.
+
+It was not a natural sleep, nor a peaceful one. The racked muscles
+refused to be still; the raw nerve-centres refused to soothe themselves
+in the peace of complete senselessness. His whole body twitched. Toppy
+tossed and groaned. He awoke some time in the night with his stomach
+crying for food.
+
+“Drink um,” said a voice somewhere, and a sturdy arm went under his head
+and a bowl containing something savoury and hot was held against his
+lips.
+
+“Hello, Tilly,” chuckled Toppy deliriously. It was quite in keeping with
+things that Tilly, the squaw, should be holding his head and feeding him
+in the middle of the night. He drank with the avidity of a man parched
+and starving, and the hot broth pleasantly soothed him as it ran down
+his throat.
+
+“More!” he said, and Tilly gave him more.
+
+“Good fellow, Tilly,” he murmured. “Good medicine. Who told you?”
+
+“Snow-Burner,” grunted Tilly, laying his head on the pillow. “He send
+me. Sleep um now.”
+
+“Sure,” sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into his moaning, feverish
+slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX—A FRESH START
+
+
+When he awoke again to clear consciousness, it was morning. The sun
+which came in through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted up
+the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content to lie so. An
+inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort ruled in every inch of his
+being. The bored, heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had
+been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely gone. His tongue
+was cool; there was none of the old heavy blood-pressure in his head;
+his nerves were absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him. Toppy
+was quite conscious of the change, though he was too comfortable to do
+more than accept his peaceful condition as a fact.
+
+“Ho, hum! I feel like a new man,” he murmured drowsily. “I wonder—ow!”
+
+He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became conscious that his
+left ankle was bandaged and sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the
+room—Campbell solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit of black, white
+collar, black tie, spick and span, with beard and hair carefully washed
+and combed.
+
+“Hello!” gasped Toppy sleepily. “Where you going—funeral?”
+
+“’Tis the Sabbath,” said Campbell reverently, as he came to the side of
+the bunk. “And how do ye feel the day, lad?”
+
+“Fine!” said Toppy. “Considering that I had my ankle sprained last
+evening.”
+
+The Scot eyed him closely.
+
+“So ’twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was it?” he asked cannily.
+
+“Why, sure,” said Toppy. “Yesterday was Saturday, wasn’t it? We were
+cleaning up the week’s work. Why, what are you looking at me like that
+for?”
+
+“Aye,” said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding the smile that
+strove to break through. “Yesterday was Saturday, but ’twas not the
+Saturday you sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was, lad, and
+ye’ve lain here in a fever, out of your head, ever since. Do you mind
+naught of the whole week?”
+
+Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long time.
+
+“Scotty, if you have to play jokes——”
+
+“Jokes!” spluttered Campbell, aghast. “Losh, mon! Didna I tell ye ’twas
+the Sabbath? No, ’tis no joke, I assure you. You did more than sprain
+your ankle when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely. Lad,
+you were in poor condition when you came to camp, and had I known it I
+would not have broken you in so hard. But you’re a good man, lad; the
+best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition. And do you really feel
+good again?”
+
+“Why, I feel like a new man,” said Toppy. “I feel as if I’d had a course
+of baths at Hot Springs.”
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+“The Snow-Burner said ye would. It’s Tilly he’s had doctoring ye. She’s
+been feeding you some Indian concoction and keeping ye heated till your
+blankets were wet through. Oh, you’ve had scandalous good care, lad;
+Reivers to set your ankle, Tilly to doctor ye Indian-wise, and Miss
+Pearson and Reivers to drop in together now and anon to see how ye were
+standing the gaff. No wonder ye came through all right!”
+
+The room seemed suddenly to grow dark for Toppy. Reivers again—Reivers
+dropping in to look at him as he lay there helpless on his back. Reivers
+in the position of the master again; and the girl with him! Toppy
+impatiently threw off his covering.
+
+“Gimme my clothes, Scotty,” he demanded, swinging himself to the edge of
+the bunk. “I’m tired of lying here on my back.”
+
+Campbell silently handed over his clothing. Toppy was weak, but he
+succeeded in dressing himself and in tottering over to a chair.
+
+“So Miss Pearson came over here, did she?” he asked thoughtfully. “And
+with Reivers?”
+
+“Aye,” said Scotty drily. “With Reivers. He has a way with the women,
+the Snow-Burner has.”
+
+Toppy debated a moment; then he broke out and told Campbell all about
+how Reivers had deceived Miss Pearson into coming to Hell Camp. The old
+man listened with tightly pursed lips. As Toppy concluded he shook his
+head sorrowfully.
+
+“Poor lass, she’s got a hard path before her then,” he said. “If, as you
+say, she does not wish to care for Reivers.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Well,” said Campbell slowly, “ye’ll be understanding by this time that
+the Snow-Burner is no ordinar’ man?”
+
+“He’s a fiend—a savage with an Oxford education!” exploded Toppy.
+
+“He is—the Snow-Burner,” said Campbell with finality. “You know what he
+is toward men. Toward women—he’s worse!”
+
+“Good Heavens!”
+
+“Not that he is a woman-chaser. No; ’tis not his way. But—yon man has
+the strongest will in him I’ve ever seen in mortal man, and ’tis the
+will women bow to.” He pulled his whiskers nervously and looked away.
+“I’ve known him four year now, and no woman in that time that he has set
+his will upon but in the end has—has followed him like a slave.”
+
+Toppy’s fists clenched, and he joyed to find that in spite of his
+illness his muscles went hard.
+
+“Ye’ve seen Tilly,” continued Scotty with averted eyes. “Ye’ll not be so
+blind that ye’ve not observed that she’s no ordinar’ squaw. Well, three
+years ago Tilly was teacher in the Chippewa Indian School—thin and
+straight—a Carlisle graduate and all. She met Reivers, and shunned
+him—at first. Reivers did not chase her. ’Tis not his way. But he bent
+his will upon her, and the poor girl left her life behind her and
+followed him, and kept following him, until ye see her as she is now.
+She would cut your throat or nurse ye as she did, no matter which, did
+he but command her. And she’s not been the only one, either.
+
+“Nor have the rest of them been red.”
+
+“The swine!” muttered Toppy.
+
+“More wolf than swine, lad. Perhaps more tiger than wolf. I don’t think
+Reivers intends to break his word to yon lass. But I suspect that he
+won’t have to. No; as it looks now, he won’t. Given the opportunity to
+put his will upon her and she’ll change her mind—like the others.”
+
+“He’s a beast, that’s what he is!” said Toppy angrily. “And any woman
+who would fall for him would get no more than she deserves, even if
+she’s treated like Tilly. Why, anybody can see that the man’s instincts
+are all wrong. Right in an animal perhaps, but wrong in a human being.
+The right kind of women would shun him like poison.”
+
+“I dunno,” said Campbell, rubbing his chin. “Yon lass over in the office
+is as sweet and womanly a little lass as I’ve seen sin’ I was a lad. And
+yet—look ye but out of the window, lad!”
+
+Toppy looked out of the window in the direction in which Campbell
+pointed. The window commanded a view of the gate to the stockade.
+Reivers was standing idly before the gate. Miss Pearson was coming
+toward him. As she approached he carelessly turned his head and looked
+her over from head to foot. From where he sat Toppy could see her smile.
+Then Reivers calmly turned his back upon her, and the smile on the
+girl’s face died out. She stood irresolute for a moment, then turned and
+went slowly back toward the office, glancing occasionally over her
+shoulder toward the gate. Reivers did not look, but when she was out of
+sight he began to walk slowly toward the blacksmith-shop.
+
+“Bah!” Toppy turned his eyes from the window in mingled anger and
+disgust. He sat for a moment with a multitude of emotions working at his
+heart. Then he laughed bitterly.
+
+“Well, well, well!” he mocked. “You’d expect that from a squaw, but not
+from a white woman.”
+
+“Mr. Reivers is a remarkable man,” said Campbell, shaking his head.
+
+“Sure,” said Toppy, “and it’s a mistake to look for a remarkable woman
+up here in the woods.”
+
+“I dunno.” The smith looked a little hurt. “I dunno about that, lad. Yon
+lass seems remarkably sweet and ladylike to me.”
+
+“Sure,” sneered Toppy, pointing his thumb toward the gate. “That looked
+like it, didn’t it?”
+
+“As for that, you’ve heard what I’ve told you about the Snow-Burner and
+women,” said Campbell sorrowfully. “He has a masterful way with them.”
+
+“A fine thing to be masterful over a little blonde fool like that!”
+
+Campbell scowled.
+
+“Even though you have no respect for the lass,” he said curtly, “I see
+no reason why you should put it in words.”
+
+“Why not? Why shouldn’t I, or any one else, put it in words after that?”
+Toppy fairly shouted the words. “She’s made the thing public herself.
+She came creeping up to him right out where anybody who was looking
+could see her, and there won’t be a man in camp to-morrow but’ll have
+heard that she’s fallen for Reivers. Apparently she doesn’t care; so why
+should I, or you, or anybody else? Reivers has got a masterful way with
+women! Ha, ha! Let it go at that. It’s none of my business, that’s a
+cinch.”
+
+“No,” agreed Campbell; “not if you talk that way, it’s none of your
+business; that’s sure.”
+
+Toppy could have struck him for the emphatic manner in which he uttered
+the words. But Toppy was beginning to learn to control himself and he
+merely gritted his teeth. The sudden stab which he had felt in his heart
+at the sight of the girl and Reivers had passed. In one flash there had
+been overthrown the fine structure which he had built about her in his
+thoughts. He had placed her high above himself. For some unknown reason
+he had looked up to her from the first moment he had seen her. He had
+not considered himself worthy of her good opinion. And here she was
+flaunting her subservience to Reivers—to a cold, sneering brute—before
+the eyes of the whole camp!
+
+The rage and pain at the sight of the pair had come and gone, and that
+was all over. And now Toppy to his surprise found that it didn’t make
+much difference. The girl, and what she was, what she thought of him, or
+of Reivers, no longer were of prime importance to him. He didn’t care
+enough about that now to give her room in his thoughts.
+
+Reivers was what mattered now—Reivers, with his air of contemptuous
+dominance; Reivers, who had looked on and laughed when Toppy was tugging
+at the runner of the broken sleigh. That laugh seemed to ring in Toppy’s
+ears. It challenged him even as it contemned him. It said, “I am your
+master; doubt it if you dare”; even as Reivers’ cold smile had said the
+same to Rosky and the huddled bunch of Slavs.
+
+The girl—that was past. But Reivers had roused something deeper,
+something older, something fiercer than the feelings which had begun to
+stir in Toppy at the sight of the girl. Man—raw, big-thewed, world-old
+and always new man—had challenged unto man. And man had answered. The
+petty considerations of life were stripped away. Only one thing was of
+importance. The world to Toppy Treplin had become merely a place for
+Reivers, the Snow-Burner, and himself to settle the question which had
+cried for settlement since the moment when they first looked into each
+other’s eyes: Which was the better man?
+
+Toppy smiled as he stretched himself and noted the new life that seemed
+to have come into his body. He knew what it meant. That strenuous siege
+of work and a week of fevered sweating had driven the alcohol out of his
+system. He was making a fresh start. A few weeks at the anvil now, and
+he would be in better shape than at any time since leaving school. He
+set his jaw squarely and heaved his big arms high above his head.
+
+“Well, Treplin,” came an unmistakable voice from the doorway, “you’re
+looking strenuous for a man just off the sickbed.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X—THE DUEL BEGINS
+
+
+“I’m feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers,” said Toppy quietly,
+though the voice of the man had thrilled him with the challenge in it.
+He turned his head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers with
+an expression of great serenity. The Big Game had begun between them,
+and Toppy was an expert at keeping his play hidden.
+
+“Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers,” he said. “Silly
+thing, to sprain an ankle; but thanks to your expert bandaging it’ll be
+ready to walk on soon.”
+
+“It wasn’t a bad sprain,” said Reivers, moving up and standing in front
+of him. That was Reivers all through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was
+standing, looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black anger
+boiled in Toppy’s heart, but by his expression one could read only that
+he was a grateful young man.
+
+“No, it wasn’t a bad sprain,” continued Reivers, his upper lip lifting
+in its customary smile of scorn, “but—a man who attempts such heavy
+lifts must have no weak spot in him.”
+
+Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position in his chair and
+smiled.
+
+“‘Attempts’ is hardly the right word there, Reivers. Pardon me for
+differing with you,” he laughed. “You may remember that the attempt was
+a success.”
+
+A glint of amusement in Reivers’ cold eyes showed that he appreciated
+that something more weighty than a mere question of words lay beneath
+that apparently casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed, as if
+trying to see beyond Toppy’s smile and read what lay behind, but Toppy’s
+good poker-face now stood him in good stead, and he looked blandly back
+at Reivers’ peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers laughed.
+
+“Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting me,” he said. “A
+chap gets rusty out here, where none of the laws of speech are observed.
+I’ll depend upon you to bring me back to form again—later on. Is your
+ankle really feeling strong?”
+
+For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
+
+“Well, well!” laughed Reivers. “Then Miss Pearson’s sympathy was all
+wasted. What’s the matter, Treplin? Aren’t you glad to hear that
+charming young lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and ask me
+to step in and see how you are this morning?”
+
+“Not particularly,” replied Toppy, although he was forced to admit to
+himself a glow at this explanation of the girl’s conversation with
+Reivers.
+
+“What are you interested in?” said Reivers suddenly.
+
+Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
+
+“I tell you what I’d like to do, Reivers; I’d like to learn the
+logging-business—learn how to run a camp like this—run it efficiently, I
+mean.”
+
+“Worthy ambition,” came the instant reply, “and you’ve come to the right
+school. How fortunate for you that you fell into this camp! You might
+have got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You might even have
+fallen in with a humanitarian. Then you’d never have learned how to make
+men do things for you, and consequently you’d never have learned to run
+a camp efficiently.
+
+“Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in with me. I’ll rid you
+of the silly little ideas about right and wrong that books and false
+living have instilled in your head. I believe you’ve got a good
+head—almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you were in a situation
+where it was your life or the other fellow’s, you’d survive. That’s the
+proof of a good head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? Good!
+Is your ankle strong enough for you to get around on?”
+
+Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using it as a cane, hobbled
+around the room.
+
+“Yes, it will stand up all right,” he said. “What’s the idea?”
+
+“Come with me,” laughed Reivers, swinging toward the door. “We’re just
+in time for lesson number one on how to run a camp efficiently.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI—“HELL-CAMP” COURT
+
+
+As Reivers led the way out of the shop Toppy saw that Miss Pearson was
+standing in the door of the office across the way. He saw also that she
+was looking at him. He did not respond to her look nor volunteer a
+greeting, but deliberately looked away from her as he kept pace with
+Reivers, who was setting the way toward the gate of the stockade.
+
+It was a morning such as the one when, back in Rail Head, the girl had
+kicked up the snow and said to him, “Isn’t it glorious?” But since then
+Toppy felt bitterly that he had grown so much older, so disillusioned,
+that never again would he be guilty of the tender feelings that the girl
+had evoked that morning. The sun was bright, the crisp air invigorating,
+and the blood bounded gloriously through his young body. But Toppy did
+not wax enthusiastic.
+
+He was grimly glad of the mighty stream of life that he felt surging
+within him; he would have use for all the might later on. But no more.
+The world was a harder, a less pretty place than he, in his
+inexperience, had fancied it before coming to Hell Camp.
+
+“What’s this lesson?” he asked gruffly of Reivers. “What are you going
+to show me?”
+
+“A little secret in the art of keeping brute-men satisfied with the
+place in life which a superior mind has allotted to them,” replied
+Reivers. “What is the first need of the brute? Food, of course. And the
+second is—fight. Give the lower orders of mankind, which is the kind to
+use in running a camp efficiently, plenty of food and fight, and the
+problem of restlessness is solved.
+
+“That’s history, Treplin, as you know. If these foolish, timid
+capitalists and leaders of men who are searching their petty souls for a
+remedy to combat the ravages of the modern disease called Socialism only
+would read history intelligently, they would find the remedy made to
+order. Fight! War! Give the lower brutes war; let ’em get out and
+slaughter one another, and they’d soon forget their pitiful, clumsy
+attempts to think for themselves. Give them guns with a little sharp
+steel on the end of the barrel, turn them loose on each other—any excuse
+would do—and they’d soon be so busy driving said steel into one
+another’s thick bodies that the leaders could slip the yoke back on
+their necks and get ’em under hand again, where they belong.
+
+“And they’d be happier, too, because a man-brute has got to have so much
+fighting, or what he calls his brain begins to trouble him; and then he
+imagines he has a soul and is otherwise unhappy. If there is fighting,
+or the certain prospect of fighting, there’s no alleged thinking.
+There’s the solution of all difficulties with the lower orders. Of
+course you’ve noticed how perfectly contented and happy the men in this
+camp are?” he laughed, turning suddenly on Toppy.
+
+“Yes,” said Toppy. “Especially Rosky and his bunch.”
+
+The Snow-Burner smiled appreciatively.
+
+“Rosky, poor clod, hadn’t had any fighting. I’d overlooked him. Had I
+known that thoughts had begun to trouble his poor, half-ox brain, I’d
+have given him some fighting, and he’d have been as content for the next
+few weeks as a man who—who’s just been through delirium tremens.
+
+“He had no object in life, you see. If he’d had a good enemy to hate and
+fight, he wouldn’t have been troubled by thoughts, and consequently he
+wouldn’t now be lying in his bunk with his leg in splints.
+
+“There is the system in a nutshell—give a man an enemy to hate and wish
+to destroy, and he won’t be any trouble to you during working-hours or
+after. That’s what I do—pick out the ones who might get restless and set
+them to hating each other. And now,” he concluded, as they reached the
+gate and passed through, “you’ll have a chance to see how it works out.”
+
+The big gate, opened for them by two armed guards, swung shut behind
+them, and Toppy once more looked around the enclosure in which he had
+had his first glimpse of the Snow-Burner’s system of handling the men
+under him. The place this morning, however, presented a different, a
+more impressive scene. It was all but filled with a mass of rough-clad,
+rough-moving, rough-talking male humanity.
+
+Perhaps a hundred and fifty men were waiting in the enclosure. For the
+greater part they were of the dark, thick and heavily clumsy type that
+Toppy had learned to include under the general title of Bohunk; but here
+and there over the dark, ox-like faces rose the fair head of a tall man
+of some Northern breed. Slavs comprised the bulk of the gathering; the
+Scandinavians, Irish, Americans—the “white men,” as they called
+themselves—were conspicuous only by contrast and by the manner in which
+they isolated themselves from the Slavs.
+
+And between the two breeds there was not much room for choice. For while
+the faces of the Slavs were heavy with brute stupidity and malignity,
+those of the North-bred men reeked with fierceness, cruelty and crime.
+The Slavs were at Hell Camp because they were tricked into coming and
+forced to remain under shotgun rule; the others were there mostly
+because sheriffs found it unsafe and unprofitable to seek any man whom
+the Snow-Burner had in his camp. They were “hiding out.” Criminals, the
+majority of them, they preyed on the stupid Slavs as a matter of course;
+and this situation Reivers had utilised, as he put it, “to keep his men
+content.”
+
+Though there was a gulf of difference between the extreme types of the
+crowd, Toppy soon realised that just now their expressions were
+strangely alike. They were all impatient and excited. The excitement
+seemed to run in waves; one man moved and others moved with him. One
+threw up his head and others did likewise. Their faces were expectant
+and cruel. It was like the milling of excited cattle, only worse.
+
+“Come along, Treplin,” said Reivers, and led the way toward the centre
+of the enclosure. The noises of the crowd, the talking, the short
+laughter, the shuffling, ceased instantly at his appearance. The crowd
+parted before him as before some natural force that brushed all men
+aside. It opened up even to the centre of the yard, and then Toppy saw
+whither Reivers was leading.
+
+On the bare ground was roped off a square which Toppy, with practised
+eye, saw was the regulation twenty-four-foot prize-fight ring. Rough,
+unbarked tamarack poles formed the corner-posts of the ring, and the
+ropes were heavy wire logging-cable. A yard from one side of the ring
+stood a table with a chair upon it. Reivers, with a careless, “Take a
+seat on the table and keep your eyes open,” stepped easily upon the
+table, seated himself in the chair and looked amused as the men
+instinctively turned their faces up toward him.
+
+“Well, men,” he said in a voice which reached like cold steel into the
+far corners of the enclosure, “court is open. The first case is Jan
+Torta and his brother Mikel against Bill Sheedy, whom they accuse of
+stealing ninety-eight dollars from them while they slept.”
+
+As he spoke the names two young Slavs, clumsy but strongly built, their
+heavy faces for once alight with hate and desire for revenge, pushed
+close to one side of the ring, while on the other side a huge red-haired
+Celt, bloated and evil of face, stepped free of the crowd.
+
+“Bill stole the money, all right,” continued Reivers, without looking at
+any of them. “He had the chance, and being a sneak thief by nature he
+took it. That’s all right. The Torta boys had the money; now Bill’s got
+it. The question is: Is Bill man enough to keep it? That’s what we’re
+going to settle now. He’s got to show that he’s a better man than the
+two fellows he took the money from. If he isn’t, he’s got to give up the
+money, or the two can have him to do what they want to with him. All
+right, boys; get ’em started there.”
+
+At his brisk order four men whom Toppy had seen around camp as guards
+stepped forward, two to Sheedy, two to the Torta brothers, and proceeded
+first to search them for weapons, next to strip them to the waist.
+Sheedy hung back.
+
+“Not two av um tuh wanst, Mr. Reivers?” he asked humbly. “One after deh
+udder it oughta be; two tuh wanst, that ain’t no way.”
+
+“And why not, Bill?” asked Reivers gently. “You took it from both of
+them, didn’t you? Then keep it against both of ’em, Bill. Throw ’em in
+there, boys!”
+
+Toppy looked around at the rows of eager faces that were pressing toward
+the ringside. Prize-fights he had witnessed by the score. He had even
+participated in one or two for a lark, and the brute lust that springs
+into the eyes of spectators was no stranger to him. But never had he
+seen anything like this. There was none of the restraint imposed upon
+the human countenance by civilisation in the fierce faces that gathered
+about this ring.
+
+Out of the dull eyes the primitive killing-animal showed unrestrained,
+unashamed. No dilettante interest in strength or skill here; merely the
+bare bloodthirsty desire to see a fellow-animal fight and bleed. Up
+above, the sky was clean and blue; the rough log walls shut out the rest
+of the world; the breathing of a mob of excited men was the only sound
+upon the quiet Sunday air. It was the old arena again; the merciless,
+gore-hungry crowd; the maddened gladiators; and upon the chair on the
+table, Reivers, lord of it all, the king-man, to whom it was all but an
+idle moment’s play.
+
+Reivers, above it all, untouched by it all, and yet directing and
+swaying it all as his will listed. Laws, rules, teachings, creeds—all
+were discarded. Primitive force had for the nonce been given back its
+rule. And over it, and controlling it, as well as each of the maddened
+eight-score men around the ring—Reivers.
+
+And so thoroughly did Reivers dominate the whole affair that Toppy,
+sitting carelessly on the edge of the table, was conscious of it, and
+knew that he, too, felt instinctively inclined to do as the men did—to
+look to Reivers for a sign before daring to speak or make a move. The
+Snow-Burner was in the saddle. It wasn’t natural, but every phase of the
+situation emanated from his master-man’s will. It was even his wish that
+Toppy should sit thus at his feet and look on, and his wish was
+gratified.
+
+But it was well that the visor of Toppy’s cap hid his eyes, else Reivers
+might have wondered at the look that flashed up at him from them.
+
+“Throw ’em in!” snapped Reivers, and the handlers thrust the three
+combatants, stripped to the waists but wearing calked lumberjack shoes,
+through the ropes.
+
+A cry went up to the sky from a hundred and fifty throats around the
+ringside—a cry that had close kinship with the joyous, merciless
+“Au-rr-ruh” of a wolf about to make its kill. Then an instant’s silence
+as the rudely handled fighters came to their feet and faced for action.
+Then another hideous yelp rent the still air; the fighters had come
+together!
+
+“Queer ring-costumes, eh, Treplin?” came Reivers’ voice mockingly. “Our
+own rules; the feet as well as the hands. Lord, what oxen!”
+
+The two Slavs had sprung upon their despoiler like two maddened cattle.
+Sheedy, rushing to meet them, head down, swung right and left overhand;
+and with a mighty smacking of hard fist on naked flesh, one Torta rolled
+on the ground while his brother stopped in his tracks, his arms pressed
+to his middle. The crowd bellowed.
+
+“Yes, I knew Sheedy had been a pug,” said Reivers judicially.
+
+Sheedy deliberately took aim and swung for the jaw of the man who had
+not gone down. The Slav instinctively ducked his head, and the blow,
+slashing along his jawbone, tore loose his ear. Half stunned, he dropped
+to his knees, and Sheedy stepped back to poise for a killing kick. But
+now the man who had been knocked down first was on his feet, and with
+the scream of a wounded animal he hurled himself through the air and
+went down, his arms close-locked around Sheedy’s right leg. Sheedy
+staggered. The ring became a little hell of distorted human speech.
+Sheedy bellowed horrible curses as he beat to a pulp the face that
+sought to bury itself in his thigh; his assailant screeched in Slavish
+terror; and the bull-like roar of his brother, rising to his feet with
+cleared senses and springing into the battle, intermingled with both.
+Sheedy’s red face went pale.
+
+Around the ringside the faces of the Slavs shone with relief. The fight
+was going their way; they roared encouragement and glee in their own
+guttural tongue. The others—Irish, Americans, Scandinavians—rooting for
+Sheedy only because he was of their breed, were silent.
+
+“Hang tough, Bill,” said one man quietly; and then in a second the
+slightly superior brains in Sheedy’s head had turned the battle. Like a
+flash he dropped flat on his back as his fresh assailant reached out to
+grip him. The furious Slav followed him helplessly in the fall; and a
+single gruff, appreciative shout came from the few “white men.”
+
+For they had seen, even as the Slav stumbled, Bill Sheedy’s left leg
+shoot up like a catapult, burying the calked shoe to the ankle in the
+man’s soft middle and flinging him to one side, a shuddering, senseless
+wreck. The man with his arms around Sheedy’s leg looked up and saw. He
+was alone now, alone against the big man who had knocked him down with
+such ease. Toppy saw the man’s mouth open and his face go yellow.
+
+“Na, na, na!” he cried piteously, as Sheedy’s blows again rained upon
+him. “I give up, give up, give up!”
+
+He tried to bury his face in Bill’s thigh; and Bill, mad with success,
+strove to pound him loose.
+
+“Kill him, Bill!” said one of the Irishmen quietly. “You got him now;
+kill him.”
+
+“Stop.” Reivers did not raise his voice. He seemed scarcely interested.
+Yet the roars around the ring died down. Sheedy stopped a blow half
+delivered and dropped his arms. The Slav released his clawlike hold and
+ran, sobbing, toward his prostrate brother.
+
+“All right, Bill; you keep the money—for all them,” said Reivers. “Clear
+out the ring, boys, and get that other pair in there.”
+
+The guards, springing into the ring as if under a lash, picked up the
+senseless man and thrust him like a sack of grain through the ropes and
+on to the ground at the feet of a group of his countrymen. Toppy saw
+these pick the man up and bear him away. The man’s head hung down limply
+and dragged on the ground, and a thin stream of blood ran steadily out
+of one side of his mouth. His brother followed, loudly calling him by
+name.
+
+“Very efficacious, that left leg of Bill’s; eh, Treplin?” said Reivers
+lightly. “Bill was the superior creature there. He had the wit and will
+to survive in a crisis; therefore he is entitled to the rewards of the
+superior over the inferior, which in this case means the ninety-eight
+dollars which the Torta boys once had. That’s justice—natural justice
+for you, Treplin; and all the fumbling efforts of the lawmakers who’ve
+tried through the ages to reduce life to a pen-and-paper basis haven’t
+been able to change the old rule one bit.
+
+“I’ll admit that courts and all the fakery that goes with them have
+reduced the thing to a battle of brains, but after all it’s the same old
+battle; the stronger win and hold. And,” he concluded, waving his hand
+at the crowd, “you’ll admit that Bill, and those Torta boys wouldn’t be
+at their best in a contest of intelligence.”
+
+Toppy refused Reivers the pleasure of seeing how the brutality of the
+affair disgusted him.
+
+“Why don’t you follow the thing out to its logical conclusion?” he said
+carelessly. “The thing isn’t settled as long as the Torta boys can
+possibly make reprisals. To be a consistent savage you’d have to let ’em
+go to it until one had killed the other. But even you don’t dare to do
+that, do you, Reivers?”
+
+Reivers laughed, but the look that he bent on Toppy’s bland face
+indicated that he was a trifle puzzled.
+
+“Then you wouldn’t be running the camp efficiently, Treplin,” he said.
+“It wouldn’t make any difference if they were all Tortas; but Bill’s a
+valuable man. He furnishes some one a bellyful of hating and fighting
+every week. No; I wouldn’t have Bill killed for less than two hundred
+dollars. He’s one of my best antidotes for the disease of discontent.”
+
+The guards now had pulled two other men up to the ropes and were
+searching and stripping them. Toppy stared at the disparity in the sizes
+of the men as the clothes were pulled off them. One stood up strong and
+straight, the muscles bulging big beneath his dark skin, his neck short
+and heavy, his head cropped and round. He wore a small, upturned
+moustache and carried himself with a certain handy air that indicated
+his close acquaintance with ring-events. The other man was short and
+dark, obviously an Italian; the skin of his body was a sickly white, his
+face olive green. He stood crouched, and beneath his ragged beard two
+teeth gleamed, like the fangs of a snarling dog.
+
+“Antonio, the Knife-Expert, and Mahmout, the Strangling Bulgarian,”
+announced Reivers laughingly. “Tony tried to stick Mahmout because of a
+little lady back in Rail Head, and made such a poor job of it that
+Mahmout has offered to meet him in the ring; Tony with his knife,
+Mahmout with his wrestling-tricks. Start ’em off.”
+
+The Bulgarian was under the ropes and upright in the ring before the
+Italian had started. He was in his stocking-feet, and despite the
+clumsiness of his build he moved with a quickness and ease that told of
+the fine co-ordination of the effective athlete. When the Italian
+entered the ring he held his right hand behind his back, and in the hand
+gleamed the six-inch blade of a wicked-looking stiletto.
+
+A shiver ran along Toppy’s spine, but he continued to play the game.
+
+“Evidently Mahmout isn’t a valuable man; you don’t care what happens to
+him,” he said.
+
+“Not particularly,” replied Reivers seriously. “He’s a good man on the
+rollways—nothing extra. Still, I hardly believe Tony can kill him—not
+this time, at least.”
+
+The faces around the ring grew fiercer now. Growled curses and
+exclamations came through clenched teeth. Here was the spectacle that
+the brute-spirit hungered for—the bare, living flesh battling for life
+against the merciless, gleaming steel.
+
+The big Bulgarian moved neatly forward, bent over at the waist, his
+strong arms extended, hands open before him in the practised wrestler’s
+guard and attack. His feet did not leave the ground as he sidled
+forward, and his eyes never moved from the Italian’s right arm. The
+latter, snarling and panting, retreated slightly, then began to circle
+carefully, his small eyes searching for the opening through which he
+could leap in and drive home his steel.
+
+The Bulgarian turned with him, his guard always before him, as a bull
+turns its head to face the circling wolf. Without a sound the knife-man
+suddenly stopped and lunged a sweeping slash at the menacing hands.
+Mahmout, grasping for a hold on hand or wrist, caught the tip of the
+blade in his palm, and a slow bellow of rage shook him as he saw the
+blood flow. But he did not lower his guard nor take his eyes from his
+opponent.
+
+The Italian retreated and circled again. A horrible sneer distorted his
+face, and the knife flashed in the sunlight as he slashed it to and fro
+before the other’s hands. The crowd growled its appreciation. Three
+times Antonio leaped forward, slashed, and leaped back again; and each
+time the blood flowed from Mahmout’s slashed fingers. But the wrestler’s
+guard never lowered nor did he falter in his set plan of battle. He was
+working to get his man into a corner.
+
+The Italian soon saw this and, leaping nimbly sidewise, lunged for
+Mahmout’s ribs. The right arm of the Bulgarian dropped in time to save
+his life, but the knife, deflected from its fatal aim, ripped through
+the top muscles of his back for six inches. The mob roared at the fresh
+blood, but Mahmout was working silently. In his spring the Italian had
+only leaped toward another corner of the ring.
+
+Mahmout leaped suddenly toward him. Antonio, stabbing swiftly at the
+hands reached out for him, jumped back. A cry from a countryman in the
+crowd warned him. Swiftly he glanced over his shoulder, saw that he was
+cornered, and with a low, sweeping swing of the arm he threw the knife
+low at Mahmout’s abdomen.
+
+The blade glinted as it flashed through the air; it thudded as it struck
+home; but the death-cry which the mob yelped out died short. With the
+expert’s quickness Mahmout had flung his huge forearms before the
+speeding blade. Now he held his left arm up. The stiletto, quivering
+from the impact, had pierced it through.
+
+With a fierce roar Mahmout plucked out the knife, hurled it from the
+ring and dived forward. The Italian fought like a fury, feet, teeth and
+fingernails making equal play. He sank his teeth in the injured left
+arm. Mahmout groped with his one sound hand and methodically clamped a
+hold on an ankle. He made sure that the hold was a firm one; then he
+wrenched suddenly—once. The Italian screamed and stiffened straight up
+under the appalling pain. Then he fell flat to the ground, and Toppy saw
+that his right foot was twisted squarely around and that the leg lay
+limp on the ground like a twisted rag.
+
+“Stop,” said Reivers, and Mahmout stepped back. “Take Tony’s knife away
+from him, boys. Mahmout wins—for the time being.”
+
+“Inconsistent again,” muttered Toppy. “Your scheme is all fallacies,
+Reivers. You give Tony a knife with which he may kill Mahmout at one
+stroke, but you don’t let Mahmout finish him when he’s got him down. Why
+don’t you carry your system to its logical conclusion?”
+
+“Why don’t I?” chuckled Reivers, stepping down from the table. “Why,
+simply because Signor Antonio is the camp cook, and cooks are too scarce
+to be destroyed unnecessarily. Now come along, Treplin. Court’s
+adjourned; a light docket to-day. I’ve been thinking of your wanting to
+learn how to run a logging-camp. I’m going to give you a change of jobs.
+You’ll be no good in the blacksmith-shop till your ankle’s normal again.
+Come along; I’ll show you what I’ve picked out for you.”
+
+He turned away from the ring as from a finished episode in the day’s
+work. That was over. Whether Torta or Antonio lived or died, were whole
+or crippled for the rest of their lives, had no room in his thoughts. He
+strode toward the gate as if the yard were empty, and the crowd opened a
+way far before him. Outside the gate he led the way around the stockade
+toward where the river roared and tumbled through the chutes of Cameron
+Dam.
+
+A cliff-like ledge, perhaps thirty feet in height, situated close to one
+end of the dam, was Reivers’ objective, and he led Toppy around to the
+side facing the river. Here the dirt had been scraped away on the face
+of the ledge, and a great cave torn in the exposed rock. The hole was
+probably fifty feet wide, and ran from twelve to fifteen feet under the
+brow of the ledge. Toppy was surprised to see no timbers upholding the
+rocky roof, which seemed at any moment likely to drop great masses of
+jagged stone into the opening beneath.
+
+“My little rock-pile,” explained Reivers lightly. “When my brutes aren’t
+good I put ’em to work here. The rock goes into the dam out there. Just
+at present Rosky’s band of would-be malcontents are the ones who are
+suffering for daring to be dissatisfied with the—ah—simplicity, let us
+say, of Hell Camp.”
+
+He laughed mirthlessly.
+
+“I’m going to put you in charge of this quarry, Treplin. You’re to see
+that they get one hundred wheelbarrows of rock out of here per hour.
+You’ll be here at daylight to-morrow.”
+
+Toppy nodded quietly.
+
+“What’s the punishment here?” he asked, puzzled. “It looks like nothing
+more than hard work to me.”
+
+Reivers smiled the same smile that he had smiled upon Rosky.
+
+“Look at the roof of that pit, Treplin,” he said. “You’ve noticed that
+it isn’t timbered up. Occasionally a stone drops down. Sometimes several
+stones. But one hundred barrows an hour have to come out of there just
+the same. And those rocks up there, you’ll notice, are beautifully sharp
+and heavy.”
+
+Toppy felt Reivers’ eyes upon him, watching to see what effect this
+explanation would have, and consequently he no more betrayed his
+feelings than he had at the brutal scenes of the “court.”
+
+“I see,” he said casually. “I suppose this is why you made me read up on
+fractures?”
+
+“Partly,” said Reivers. He looked up at the jagged rocks in the roof of
+the pit and grinned. “And sometimes an accident here calls for a job for
+a pick and shovel. But I’m just, Treplin; only the malcontents are put
+to work in here.”
+
+“That is, those who have dared to declare themselves something besides
+your helpless slaves.”
+
+“Or dared to think of declaring themselves thus,” agreed Reivers
+promptly.
+
+“I see.” Toppy was looking blandly at the roof, but his mind was working
+busily.
+
+“Just why do you give me charge of this hole, Reivers—if you don’t mind
+my asking? Isn’t it rather an unusual honour for a green hand to be put
+over a crew like this?”
+
+“Unusual! Oh, how beastly banal of you, Treplin!” laughed Reivers
+carelessly. “Surely you didn’t expect me to do the usual thing, did you?
+You say you want to learn how to handle a camp like this. You’re an
+interesting sort of creature, and I’d like to see you work out in the
+game of handling men, so I give you this chance. Oh, I’ll do great
+things for you, Treplin, before I’m done with you! You can imagine all
+that I’ve got in store for you.”
+
+The smile vanished and he turned away. He was through with this
+incident, too. Without another word or look at Toppy he went back to the
+stockade, his mind already busy with some other project. Toppy stood
+looking after him until Reivers’ broad back disappeared around the
+corner of the stockade.
+
+“No, you clever devil!” he muttered. “I can’t imagine. But whatever it
+is, I promise I’ll hand it back to you with a little interest, or
+furnish a job for a pick and shovel.”
+
+He walked slowly back to the blacksmith-shop. He was glad to be left
+alone. Though he had permitted no sign of it to escape him, Toppy had
+been enraged and sickened at what he had seen in the stockade. He
+admitted to himself that it was not the fact that men had been disabled
+and crippled, nor the brutal rules that had governed, nor that men had
+been exposed to death at the hands of others before his eyes, that had
+stirred him so. It was—Reivers. Reivers sitting up there on the table
+playing with men’s bodies and lives as with so many cards—Reivers, the
+dominant, lord over his fellows.
+
+The veins swelled in Toppy’s big neck as he thought of Reivers, and his
+hitherto good-natured face took on a scowl that might have become some
+ancestral man-captain in the days of mace and mail, but which never
+before had found room on Toppy’s countenance—not even when the opposing
+half-backs were guilty of slugging. But he was playing another game now,
+an older one, a fiercer one, and one which called to him as nothing had
+called before. It was the man-game now; and out there in the old, stern
+forest, spurred by the challenge of the man who was his natural enemy,
+the primitive fighting-man in Toppy shook off the restraint with which
+breeding, education and living had cumbered him, and stood out in a
+fashion that would have shocked Toppy’s friends back East.
+
+Near the shop he met Miss Pearson. By her manner he saw that she had
+been waiting for him, but Toppy merely raised his cap and made to pass
+on.
+
+“Mr. Treplin!” There was astonishment at his rudeness in her
+exclamation.
+
+“Well?” said Toppy.
+
+“Your ankle?”
+
+“Oh, yes. Pardon me for not expressing my thanks before. It’s almost
+well—thanks to you and Mr. Reivers.”
+
+She made a slight shrinking movement and stood looking at him for a
+moment. She opened her lips, but no words came.
+
+“Old Scotty told me about your kindness in coming to see me, you and Mr.
+Reivers together,” said Toppy. “It was a relief to learn that your
+confidence in Reivers was justified.”
+
+She looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. A troubled look swept
+over her face. Then with a toss of the head she turned and crossed the
+road, and Toppy swung on his way to the room in the rear of the shop and
+closed the door behind him with a vicious slam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII—TOPPY’S FIRST MOVE
+
+
+Next morning, in the cold stillness which precedes the coming of
+daylight in the North, Toppy stood leaning on his axe-handle cane and
+watched his crew of a dozen men file out of the stockade gate and turn
+toward the stone-quarry. They walked with the driven air of prisoners
+going to punishment. In the darkness their squat, shapeless figures were
+scarcely human. Their heads hung, their steps were listless, as if they
+had just completed a hard day’s work instead of having arisen from a
+hearty breakfast.
+
+The complete lack of spirit evinced by the men irritated Toppy. Was
+Reivers right after all? Were they nothing but clods, undeserving of
+fair and intelligent treatment?
+
+“Hey! Wake up there! You look like a bunch of corpses. Show some life!”
+cried Toppy, in whom the bitter morning air was sending the red blood
+tingling.
+
+The men did not raise their heads. They quickened their stumbling steps
+a little, as a heavy horse shambles forward a little under the whip. One
+or two looked back, beyond where Toppy was walking at the side of the
+line. Treplin with curiosity followed their glances. A grim-lipped
+shotgun guard with a hideous hawk nose had emerged from the darkness,
+and with his short-barrelled weapon in the crook of his arm was
+following the line at a distance of fifty or sixty feet. Toppy halted
+abruptly. So did the guard.
+
+“What’s the idea?” demanded Toppy. “Reivers send you?”
+
+“Yes,” said the guard gruffly.
+
+“Does it take two of us to make this gang work?” Toppy was irritated.
+Reivers, he knew, would have handled the gang alone.
+
+“The boss sent me,” said the guard, with a finality that indicated that
+for him that ended the discussion.
+
+The daylight now came wanly up the gap made in the forest by the
+brawling river, and the men stood irresolute before the quarry and
+peered up anxiously at the roof of the pit.
+
+“Grab your tools,” said Toppy. “Get in there and get to it.”
+
+The men, some of them taking picks and crowbars, some wheelbarrows, were
+soon ready to begin the day’s work. But there was a hitch somewhere.
+They stood at the entrance to the pit and did not go in. They looked up
+at the threatening roof; then they looked anxiously, pleadingly, at
+Toppy. But Toppy was thinking savagely of how Reivers would have handled
+the gang alone and he paid no attention.
+
+“Get in there!” he roared. “Come on; get to work!”
+
+Accustomed to being driven, they responded at once to his command.
+Between two fears, fear of the dropping rocks and fear of the man over
+them, they entered the quarry and began the day’s work. The guard took
+up a position on a slight eminence, where he was always in plain sight
+of the men, whether in the cave or wheeling the rock out to the dam. He
+held his gun constantly in the hollow of his arm, like a hunter.
+
+Ten minutes after the first crowbar had clanged against rock in the
+quarry there was a rumbling sound, a crash, a scream; and the men came
+scrambling out in terror. Their rush stopped abruptly just outside the
+cave. Toppy was standing directly before them; the man with the gun had
+noisily cocked his weapon and brought the black barrel to bear on the
+heads of the men. Half of them slunk at once back into the cave. One of
+the others held up a bleeding hand to Toppy.
+
+“Ah, pleess, bahss, pleess,” he pleaded. “Rock kill us next time.
+Pleess, bahss!”
+
+There was a moment of silence while Toppy looked at the men’s
+terror-stricken faces. The shotgun guard rattled the slide on his gun.
+The men began to retreat into the cave, their helplessness and
+hopelessness writ large upon their flat faces.
+
+“Hold on there!” said Toppy suddenly. After all, a fellow couldn’t do
+things like that—drive helpless cattle like these to certain injury,
+even possible death. “I’ll take a look in there.”
+
+He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men and entered the pit. A
+few rocks had dropped from the roof, luckily falling in a far corner
+beyond where the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how serious
+this petty accident was; for the whole roof of the cave now was
+loosened, and as sure as the men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath
+they would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads.
+
+“Like rats in a trap,” he thought. “Hi!” he called. “Get out of here.
+Get out!”
+
+Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile of old timbers which
+probably had been used for piling while the dam was being put in.
+Thither he now led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself he
+hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang, each bearing a timber. A
+sudden change had come over the men as he indicated what he was going to
+do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was gone. Some of them smiled,
+and some talked excitedly. Under Toppy’s direction they went to work
+with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave. It was only a
+half-hour’s work to place the props so that the men working beneath were
+free of any serious danger from above. Toppy could sense the change of
+feeling toward him that had come over the men as they saw the timbers go
+into place, and he was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably.
+They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and the gratitude in
+their faces was pitiful to behold.
+
+“Now jump!” said Toppy when the roof was safely propped. “Hustle and
+make up the time we’ve lost.”
+
+As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang with noise as the men
+furiously tore loose the rock and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a
+long breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard spat in disgust.
+
+“Will you do me a favour?” said Toppy, suddenly swinging toward him.
+
+“What is it?” asked the man.
+
+“Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him your services are no
+longer required at this spot. Tell him I said you looked like a fool,
+standing up there with your bum gun. Tell him—” Toppy, despite his sore
+ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside the guard before the latter
+thought of making a move—“that I said I’d throw you and your gun in the
+river if you didn’t duck. And for your own information—” Toppy was
+towering over the man—“I’ll do it right now, unless you get out of
+here—quick!”
+
+The guard’s shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy’s and failed. Against the
+Slavs he would have dared to use his gun; they were his inferiors.
+Against Toppy he did not dare even so much as to think of the weapon,
+and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid of men who looked him in
+the eyes.
+
+“The boss sent me here,” he said sullenly.
+
+Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to the guard’s. The man
+shrank.
+
+“Duck!” said Toppy. That was all. The guard moved away with an alacrity
+that showed how uncomfortable the spot had become to him.
+
+“You’ll hear about this!” he whined from a distance.
+
+And Toppy laughed, laughed carelessly and loudly, rampant with the
+sensation of power. The men, scurrying past with barrows of rock, noted
+the retreat of the guard and smiled. They looked up at Toppy with
+slavish admiration, as lesser men look up to the champion who has
+triumphed before their eyes. One or two of the older men raised their
+hats as they passed him, their Old-World serf-like way of showing how
+they felt toward him.
+
+“Jump!” ordered Toppy gruffly. “Get a move on there; make up that lost
+time.”
+
+Reivers had said that a hundred barrows an hour must be dumped into the
+dam. With a half hour lost in shoring up the roof, there were fifty
+loads to be caught up during the day if the average was to be
+maintained. Carefully timing each load and keeping tally for half an
+hour, Toppy saw that a hundred loads per hour was the limit of his gang
+working at a normal pace. To get out the hundred loads they must keep
+steadily at work, with no time lost because of the falling rocks from
+above.
+
+He began to see the method of Reivers’ apparent madness in placing him
+in charge of the gang. With the gang working in the dead, terrorised
+fashion that had characterised their movements before the timbers were
+in place, Toppy knew that he would have failed; he could not have got
+out the hundred loads per hour. Reivers would have proved him to be his
+inferior; for Reivers, with his inhumanity, would have driven the gang
+as if no lives nor limbs hung on the tissue.
+
+Toppy smiled grimly as he looked at his watch and marked new figures on
+the tally sheet. The men, pitifully grateful for the protecting timbers,
+had taken hold of their work with such new life that the rock was going
+into the dam at the rate of one hundred and twenty loads an hour.
+
+“Move number one!” muttered Toppy, snapping shut his watch. “I wonder
+what the Snow-Burner’s come-back will be when he knows. Hey, you
+roughnecks! Keep moving, there; keep moving!”
+
+The men responded cheerfully to his every command. They could gladly
+obey his will; they were safe under him; he had taken care of them, the
+helpless ones. That evening, when they filed back into the stockade
+under Toppy’s watchful eye, one of the older men, a swarthy old fellow
+with large brass rings in his ears, sank his hat low as he passed in.
+
+“Buna nopte, Domnule,” he said humbly.
+
+“What did he say?” demanded Toppy of one of the young men who knew a
+little English.
+
+“Plees, bahss; old man, he Magyar,” was the reply. “He say, ‘Good night,
+master.’”
+
+Toppy stood dumfounded while the line passed through the gate.
+
+“Well,” he said with a grin, “what do you know about that?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII—REIVERS REPLIES
+
+
+Reivers did not come to the shop that night for his evening diversion,
+nor did Toppy see him at all during the next day. But in the morning
+following he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in his own peculiar
+way of Toppy’s action in driving the shotgun guard away from the quarry.
+As the line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill half
+light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang, a cheerful, stocky man
+called Mikal, was missing. In his place, walking with the successful
+plug-ugly’s insolent swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the
+appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy knew that Reivers had
+made another move in his tantalising game.
+
+He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought of it. Reivers was
+playing with him, too, playing even as he had played with Rosky! And
+Toppy knew that, like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too, to
+be crushed—to be marked as an inferior, to be made to acknowledge
+Reivers as his master.
+
+Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy’s eyes and had, with
+his cold smile of complete confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge.
+The substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers’ pet troublemaker, for an
+effective workman was a definite move toward Toppy’s humiliation.
+
+There was nothing in Toppy’s manner, however, to indicate his feelings
+as he followed the line to the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy’s swagger,
+by which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for trouble, to go as
+if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely simple of mind, leaped instantly
+to the conclusion that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered more
+insolently than ever. He was in an irritable mood this morning, was Bill
+Sheedy; and as soon as the gang was out of sight of the stockade—and,
+thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight of Reivers—he
+began to vent his irritation upon his fellow-workmen.
+
+He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them, threatened them with
+his fists, kicked them carelessly. There was no finesse in Bill’s
+method; he was mad and showed it. When the daylight came up the river
+sufficiently strong to begin the day’s work, Bill had worked himself up
+to a proper frame of mind for his purpose. He stood still while the
+other men willingly seized their tools and barrows and tramped into the
+quarry.
+
+Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated by his manner he
+was quite oblivious of Sheedy’s existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy
+with a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to go in with the
+other men. The order did not come. Toppy was busy directing the men
+where to begin their work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill
+finally was forced to call attention to himself.
+
+“——!” he growled, spitting generously. “Yah ain’t goin’ tuh git me tuh
+wurruk in no hole like that.”
+
+“All right, Bill,” said Toppy instantly. “All right.”
+
+Bill was staggered. His simple mind failed utterly to comprehend that
+there might lie something behind Toppy’s apparently humble manner. Bill
+could see only one thing—the straw-boss was afraid of him.
+
+“Yah —— know it, it’s all right!” he spluttered. “If it ain’t I’d ——
+soon make it all right.”
+
+“Sure,” said Toppy, and without looking toward Bill he hurried into the
+quarry to see how the timbers were standing the strain. Bill stood
+puzzled. He had bluffed the straw-boss, sure enough; but still the thing
+wasn’t entirely satisfactory. The boss didn’t seem to care whether he
+worked or whether he loafed. Bill refused to be treated with such little
+consideration. He was of more importance than that.
+
+“Hey, you!” he called as Toppy emerged from the pit. “I’m going to wheel
+rock down to the dam, that’s what I’m going tuh do. Going to wheel it;
+but yuh ain’t goin’ tuh make me go in there and dig it. See? I’m going
+to wheel rock.”
+
+Now for the first time Toppy seemed to consider Bill.
+
+“What makes you think you are?” he said quietly. He was looking at his
+watch, but Bill noticed that in spite of his sore ankle and cane the
+boss had managed to move near to him in uncannily swift fashion.
+
+“You know you can’t work here now,” Toppy continued before Bill’s thick
+wits had framed an answer. “You won’t go into the quarry, so I can’t use
+you.”
+
+Bill stared as if bereft of all of his faculties. The boss had slipped
+his watch back into his pocket. He had turned away.
+
+“Can’t use me—can’t——Say! Who says I can’t work here?” roared Bill,
+shaking his fists. He was standing on the plank on which the
+wheelbarrows were rolled out of the cave, blocking the way of the men
+with the first loads of the day.
+
+“Look out, Bill!” said Toppy softly, turning around. Instinctively Bill
+threw up his guard—threw it up to guard his jaw. Toppy’s left drove into
+his solar plexus so hard that Bill seemed to be moulded on to the fist,
+hung there until he dropped and rolled backward on the ground.
+
+“Get along there!” commanded Toppy to the wheel-barrowmen. “The way’s
+clear. Jump!”
+
+Grinning and snatching glances of ridicule at the prostrate Sheedy, they
+hurried past. They dumped their loads in the dam and came back with
+empty barrows, and still Sheedy lay there, like a dumped grain-sack, to
+one side of their path. The flat faces of the men cracked with grins as
+they looked worshipfully at Toppy.
+
+“Jump!” said he. “Get a move on, you roughnecks”
+
+And they grinned more widely in sheer delight at his rough ordering.
+
+Bill Sheedy lay for a long time as he had fallen. The blow he had
+stopped would have done for a pugilist in good condition, and Sheedy’s
+midriff was soft and fat. Finally he raised his head and looked around.
+Such surprise and wobegoneness showed in his expression that the
+grinning Slavs laughed outright at him. Bill slowly came to a sitting
+posture and drew a hand across his puzzled brow while he looked dully at
+the laughing men and at Toppy. Then he remembered and he dropped his
+eyes.
+
+“Get on your way, Bill,” said Toppy casually. “If you’re not able to
+walk, I’ll have half a dozen of the men help you. You’re through here.”
+
+Bill lurched unsteadily to his feet and staggered away a few steps. That
+terrific punch and the iron-calm manner of the man who had dealt it had
+scared him. His first thought was to get out of reach; his second, one
+of anger at the Bohunks who dared to laugh at him, Bill Sheedy, the
+fighting man!
+
+But the fashion in which the men laughed took the nerve out of Bill.
+They were laughing contemptuously at him; they looked down upon him;
+they were no longer afraid. And there were a dozen of them, and they
+laughed together; and Bill Sheedy knew that his days as camp bully were
+over. The straw-boss was looking at him coldly, and Bill moved farther
+away. Fifteen minutes later the straw-boss, who had apparently been
+oblivious of his presence, swung around and said abruptly:
+
+“What’s the matter, Bill? Why don’t you go back to Reivers?”
+
+Bill’s growled reply contained several indistinct but definitely profane
+characterisations of Reivers.
+
+“I can’t go back to him,” Sheedy said sullenly.
+
+“Why not?” laughed Treplin. “He’s your friend, isn’t he? He let you keep
+the money you’d stolen, and all that.”
+
+“Keep——!” growled Sheedy. “He’s got that himself. Made me make him a
+present of it, or—or he’d turn me over for a little trouble I had down
+in Duluth.”
+
+Toppy stiffened and looked at him carefully.
+
+“Telling the truth, Bill?”
+
+“Ask him,” replied Sheedy. “He don’t make no bones about it; he gets
+something on you and then he grafts on you till you’re dry.”
+
+Toppy stood silent while he assimulated this information. His scrutiny
+of Sheedy told him that the man was telling the truth. He felt grateful
+to Sheedy; through him he had got a new light on Reivers’ character,
+light which he knew he could use later on.
+
+“Through making an ass of yourself here, Bill?” he asked briskly. Bill’s
+answer was to hang his head in a way that showed how thoroughly all the
+fight was taken out of him.
+
+“All right, then; grab a wheelbarrow and get into the pit. Keep your end
+up with the other men and there’ll be no hard feelings. Try to play any
+of your tricks, and it’s good night for you. Now get to it, or get out.”
+
+Sheedy’s rush for a wheelbarrow showed how relieved he was. He had been
+standing between the devil and the deep sea—between Reivers with his
+awful displeasure and Toppy with his awful punch; and he was eager to
+find a haven.
+
+“I ain’t trying any tricks,” he muttered as he made for the quarry. “The
+Snow-Burner—he’s the one. He copped me dough and sent me down here and
+told me to work off my mad on you.”
+
+“Well, you’ve worked it off now, I guess,” said Toppy curtly. “Dig in,
+now; you’re half a dozen loads behind.”
+
+Sheedy did not fill the place of the man he had supplanted, for in his
+mixed-ale condition he was unable to work a full day at a strong man’s
+pace. However, he did so well that when Toppy checked up in the evening
+he found that his tally again was well over the stipulated average of a
+hundred loads of rock per hour.
+
+“Move two,” he thought. “I wonder what comes next?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV—“JOKER AND DEUCES WILD”
+
+
+When Toppy went back to the shop that evening he found old Campbell
+cooking the evening meal with only his right hand in use, the left being
+wrapped in a neat bandage.
+
+“That’s what comes of leaving me without a helper,” grumbled the Scot as
+Toppy looked enquiringly at the injured hand. “I maun have ye back, lad;
+I will not be knocking my hands to pieces doing two men’s work to please
+any man. And yet—” he cocked his head on one side and looked fondly at
+the bandage—“I dunno but what ’twas worth it. I’m an auld man, and it’s
+long sin’ I had a pretty lass make fuss over me.”
+
+“What?” snapped Toppy.
+
+“Oh, go on with ye, lad,” teased Scotty, holding the bandage up for his
+admiration. “Can not you see that I’m by nature a fav’rite with the
+ladies? Yon lass in the office sewed this bandage on my old meat hook.
+
+“‘Does it hurt, Mr. Campbell?’ says she. ‘Not as much as something
+that’s heavy on my mind, lass,’ says I. ‘What’s that?’ she says. ‘Mr.
+Reivers and you, lass,’ says I; and I told her as well as an old man can
+tell a lass who’s little more than a child just what the Snow-Burner is.
+‘I can’t believe it,’ says she. ‘He’s a gentleman.’ ‘More’s the pity,’ I
+says. ’That’s what makes him dangerous.’ ‘Were you not afraid of him at
+first?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Tell me honest, as you would your own
+father,’ says I, ‘are you not afraid of him now?’
+
+“With that she gave me a look like a little fawn that has smelled the
+wolf circling ‘round it, but she will not answer. ‘He can’t be what you
+say he is,’ she says, trembling. ‘Lass,’ says I, ‘a week ago you would
+never have believed it possible that you’d ever wish aught to do with
+him. Now you walk with him and talk with him, and smile when he does.’
+And I told her of Tilly.
+
+“‘It’s not so,’ says she. ‘It can’t be so. Mr. Reivers is a gentleman,
+not a brute. He’s too strong and fine,’ says she, ‘for such conduct.’
+And the bandage being done, I was dismissed with a toss of the head.
+Aye, aye, lad; but ’twas fine to have her little fingers sewing away
+around my old hand. Yon’s a fine, sweet lass; but I fear me Reivers has
+set his will to win her.”
+
+Toppy made no reply. Campbell’s words aroused only one emotion in him—a
+fresh flare of anger against Reivers. For it was Reivers, and his
+strength and dominance, that was responsible. Toppy already was sorry
+for the swift judgment that he had passed on the girl on Sunday, and for
+the rudeness which, in his anger, he had displayed toward her. He knew
+now the power that lay in Reivers’ will, the calm, compelling fire that
+lurked in his eyes.
+
+Men quailed before those eyes and did their bidding. And a girl, a
+little girl who must naturally feel grateful toward him for her
+position, could hardly be expected to resist the Snow-Burner’s
+undeniable fascinations. Why should she? Reivers was everything that
+women were drawn to in men—kinglike in his power of mind and body,
+striking in appearance, successful in whatever he sought to do.
+
+It was inevitable that the girl should fall under his spell, but the
+thought of it sent a chill up Toppy’s spine as from the thought of
+something monstrous. He raged inwardly as he remembered how clearly the
+girl had let him see his own insignificance in her estimation compared
+with Reivers. She had refused to believe Campbell; Toppy knew that she
+would refuse to listen to him if he tried to warn her against Reivers.
+
+The fashion in which he slammed the supper-dishes on the table brought a
+protest from Scotty.
+
+“Dinna be so strong with the dishes, lad; they’re not iron,” said he.
+
+“You ‘tend to your cooking,” growled Toppy. “I’ll set this table.”
+
+Campbell paused with a spoon in midair and gaped at him in astonishment.
+He opened his mouth to speak, but the black scowl on Toppy’s brow
+checked his tongue. Silently he turned to his cooking. He had seen that
+he was no longer boss in the room behind the shop.
+
+After supper Campbell brought forth a deck of cards and began to play
+solitaire. Toppy threw himself upon his bunk and lay in the darkness
+with his troublesome thoughts. An unmistakable step outside the door
+brought him to his feet, for he had an instinctive dislike to meeting
+Reivers save face to face and standing up. Reivers came in without
+speaking and shut the door behind him. He stood with his hand on the
+knob and looked over at Toppy and shook his head.
+
+“Treplin, how could you disappoint me so?” he asked mockingly. “After I
+had reposed such confidence in you, too! I’m sorely disappointed in you.
+I never looked for you to be a victim of the teachings of weak men and I
+find—ye gods! I find that you’re a humanitarian!”
+
+By this and this only did Reivers indicate that he had knowledge of how
+Toppy had protected his men.
+
+Toppy looked steadily across the room at him, a grim smile on his lips.
+
+“Did Bill Sheedy call me that?” he asked drily. “Shame on him if he did;
+I didn’t make him slip me the Torta boys’ money as a present.”
+
+Reivers’ laugh rang instantly through the room.
+
+“So you’ve won Bill’s confidences already, have you?” he said without
+the slightest trace of shame or discomfiture. “Dear old Bill! He
+actually seemed to be under the impression that he had a title to that
+money—until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin, as a man with a
+trained if not an efficient mind, is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess
+the title to ninety-eight dollars?”
+
+He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and reached into the
+cupboard for Scotty’s whiskey. As he did so his eyes fell upon the cards
+which Scotty was placing upon the table, and for the first time Toppy
+saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness. Reivers stood, paused,
+for an instant, his eyes feasting upon the cards. It was only an
+instant, but it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the
+Snow-Burner’s passion for play. And Toppy exulted at this chance
+discovery of the vulnerable joint in Reivers’ armour; for Toppy—alas for
+his misspent youth!—was a master-warrior when a deck of cards was the
+field of battle.
+
+“It’s none of my funeral, Reivers,” he said carelessly, strolling over
+to the table where Campbell went on playing, apparently oblivious to the
+conversation. “I don’t know anything about Sheedy. Of course, if you’re
+serious, the Torta boys are the only ones in camp who’ve got any right
+to the money.”
+
+Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself a drink. Campbell,
+with his back toward Reivers, paused with a card in his hand. Toppy
+yawned and dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell’s
+game.
+
+“But that’s none of my business,” he said as if dropping the subject.
+“There’s a chance for your black queen, Scotty.”
+
+Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch whiskey, drew up a
+third chair to the table and sat down across from Toppy. The latter
+apparently was absorbed in watching Campbell’s solitaire. Reivers took a
+long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and smiled pleasantly.
+
+“You turned loose an idea there, Treplin,” he said. “But can you make
+your premise stand argument? Are you sure that the Torta boys are the
+ones who have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what grounds do
+you give them the exclusive title to the money?”
+
+“It’s theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he did. That’s all I
+know about it,” said Toppy, scarcely raising his eyes from the cards.
+
+“Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?” persisted Reivers smilingly.
+“Merely because they had it in their possession! Isn’t that so? You
+don’t know how they came by it, but because they had it in their
+possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill Sheedy took it
+away from them. It was in his possession, so, following your line of
+logic, it was his—for a short while.
+
+“I took it from Bill. It’s in my possession now. Therefore, if your
+premise is sound, the money is mine. Why, Treplin, I’m really obliged to
+you for furnishing me such a clear title to my loot. It was—ah—beginning
+to trouble my conscience.” He laughed suddenly, punctuating his laughter
+with a blow of his fist on the table.
+
+“All rot, Treplin; all silly sophistry which weak men have built up to
+protect themselves from the strong! The infernal lie that because a man
+is in possession of a certain thing it is his to the exclusion of the
+rest of the world! Property-rights! I’ll tell you the truth—why this
+money is mine, why I’m the one who has the real title to it. I was able
+to take it, and I am able to keep it. There’s the natural law of
+property-rights, Treplin. What do you say to that?”
+
+“Fine!” laughed Toppy, throwing up his hands in surrender. “You bowl me
+over, Reivers. The money is yours; and—” he glanced at the cards “—and
+if you and I should play a little game of poker, joker and deuces wild,
+and I should take it away from you, it would be mine; and there you
+are.”
+
+The words had slipped out of him, apparently without any aim; but Toppy
+saw by the sudden glance which Reivers dropped to the cards that the
+gambling-hunger in the Snow-Burner had been awakened.
+
+“Joker and deuces wild,” he repeated as if fascinated. “Yes, that ought
+to help make a two-handed game fast.”
+
+The whole manner of the man seemed for the moment changed. For the first
+time since Toppy had met him he seemed to be seriously interested.
+Previously, when he played with the lives and bodies of men or devilled
+their minds with his wiles, his interest had never been deeper than that
+of a man who plays to keep himself from being bored. He was the master
+in all such affairs; they could furnish him at their best but an idle
+sort of interest. But not even the Snow-Burner was master of the
+inscrutable laws of Chance. Nor was he master of himself when cards were
+flipping before his eyes. Toppy had guessed right; Reivers had a
+weakness, and it was to be “card-crazy.”
+
+“Get over there on that other table with your solitaire, Campbell!” he
+ordered. He reached into Campbell’s liquor-cabinet and drew out a fresh
+pack of cards, which he tossed to Toppy. “You started something, Mr.
+Humanitarian,” he continued, clearing the table. “Open the deck and cut
+for deal. Then show me what you’ve got to stack up against this
+ninety-eight dollars.” And he slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the
+table.
+
+Toppy nonchalantly reached into his pockets. Then he grinned. The two
+twenty-dollar bills which he had paid the agent back in Rail Head for
+the privilege of hiring out to Hell Camp were all the money he had with
+him. He was broke. He debated with himself a moment, then unhooked his
+costly watch from the chain and pushed it across to Reivers.
+
+“You can sell that for five hundred—if you win it,” he said. “I’ll play
+it even against your ninety-eight bucks. Give me forty-nine to start
+with. If you win them give me forty-nine more, and the watch is yours.
+Right?”
+
+“Right,” said Reivers, keeping the watch and dividing his roll with
+Toppy. “Dollar jack-pots, table-stakes. Deal ’em up.”
+
+Toppy lost ten dollars on the first hand almost before he realised that
+the game had begun. He called Reivers’ bet and had three fours and
+nothing else in his hand. Reivers had two of the wild deuces and a king.
+Toppy shook his head, like a pugilist clearing his wits after a
+knockdown. Why had he called? He knew his three fours weren’t good. His
+card-sense had told him so. He had called against his judgment. Why?
+
+Suddenly, like something tangible pressing against his brain, he felt
+Reivers’ will thrusting itself against his. Then he knew. That was why
+he had called. Reivers had willed that he do so, and, catching him off
+his guard, had had his way.
+
+“Good work!” said Toppy, passing the cards. He was himself again; his
+wits had cleared. He allowed Reivers to take the next three pots in
+succession without a bet. Reivers looked at him puzzled. The fourth pot
+Toppy opened for five dollars and Reivers promptly raised him ten. After
+the draw Toppy bet a dollar, and Reivers again raised it to ten more.
+Toppy called. Reivers, caught bluffing without a single pair, stared as
+Toppy laid down his hand and revealed nothing but his original openers,
+a pair of aces. A frown passed over Reivers’ face. He peered sharply at
+Toppy from beneath his overhanging brows, but Toppy was raking in the
+pot as casually as if such play with a pair of aces was part of his
+system.
+
+“Good work!” said Reivers, and gathered the cards to him with a jerk.
+
+Half a dozen hands later, on Reivers’ deal, Toppy picked up his hand and
+saw four kings.
+
+“I’ll pass,” said he.
+
+“I open for five,” said Reivers.
+
+“Take the money,” laughed Toppy carelessly throwing his hand into the
+discard. For an instant Reivers’ eyes searched him with a look of
+surprise. The glance was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had
+suspected was true.
+
+“So he’s dealing ’em as he wants ’em!” thought Toppy. “All right. He’s
+brought it on himself.”
+
+An hour later Reivers arose from the table with a smile. The money had
+changed hands. Toppy was snapping his watch back on its chain, and
+stuffing the bills into his pocket.
+
+“Your money now, Treplin,” laughed Reivers. “Until somebody takes it
+away from you.”
+
+But there was a new note in his laughter. He had been beaten, and his
+irritation showed in his laughter and in the manner in which, after he
+had taken another big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway as he
+made to leave.
+
+“Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you have!” he said
+laughingly. “Too bad your luck ends there, isn’t it? What’s that
+paraphrase of the old saw? ‘Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.’ Good
+night, Treplin.”
+
+He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he has a joke on the other
+fellow.
+
+“What did he mean by that?” asked Campbell, puzzled.
+
+“I don’t know,” said Toppy. But he knew now that Tilly had told Reivers
+of his talk with Miss Pearson the first evening in camp, and that
+Reivers had saved it up against him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV—THE WAY OF THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+
+In the morning, before the time for beginning the day’s work, Toppy went
+to the stockade; and with one of his English-speaking Slavs acting an
+interpreter hunted up the Torta brothers and returned to them the stolen
+money which he had won from Reivers. He did not consider it necessary to
+go into the full details of how the money came to be in his possession,
+or attempt to explain the prejudice of his kind against keeping stolen
+goods.
+
+“Just tell them that Sheedy gave up the money, and that it’s theirs
+again; and they’d better hide it in their shoes so they won’t lose it,”
+he directed the interpreter.
+
+Whereat the latter, a garrulous young man who had been telling the camp
+all about the wonderful new “bahss” in the quarry—a “bahss” who saved
+men’s lives—whenever he could get any one to listen, broke forth into a
+wonderful tale of how the money came to be returned, and of the
+wonderful “bahss” that stood before them, whom they should all take off
+their caps to and worship.
+
+For this was no ordinary man, this “bahss.” No, he was far above all
+other men. It was an honour to work under him. For instance, as to this
+money: the “bahss” had heard how the red-haired one—Sheedy—had stolen,
+how he oppressed many poor men and broke the noses of those who dared to
+stand up against him.
+
+The “bahss” had the interests of poor men at heart. What had he done? He
+had struck the red-haired one such a mighty blow in the stomach that the
+red-haired one had flown high in the air, and alighting on the ground
+had been moved by the fear of death and disgorged the stolen money that
+his conscience might be easy.
+
+The story of how Toppy had propped up the roof of the stone quarry, and
+saved the limbs and possibly lives of his workmen; how he had driven the
+shotgun guard away, and how he had smitten Sheedy and laid him low
+before all men, had circulated through the camp by this time. Everybody
+knew that the new straw-boss, though fully as big and strong as the
+Snow-Burner himself, was a man who considered the men under him as
+something more than cattle and treated them accordingly. True, he drove
+men hard; but they went willingly for him, whereas under the Snow-Burner
+they hurried merely because of the chill fear that his eyes drove into
+their hearts. In short, Toppy was just such a boss as all men wished to
+work under—strong but just, firm but not inhuman.
+
+Even Sheedy was loyal to him.
+
+“He laid me out, all right,” he grumbled to a group of “white men,”
+“but, give him credit for it, he give me a chanct to get up me guard.
+There won’t be any breaking yer bones when yuh ain’t lookin’ from him.
+And he wouldn’t graft on yuh, either. He’s right. That other ——, he—he
+ain’t human.”
+
+The fact that he had been humane enough, and daring enough, to prop up
+the roof of the quarry had no effect on the “white men” toward
+developing a respect for Toppy. They despised the Slavs too thoroughly
+to be conscious of any brotherhood with them. But that he could put Bill
+Sheedy away with a single punch, that he could warn Bill to put up his
+guard and then knock him out with one blow, that was something to wring
+respect even from that hard-bitten crew.
+
+The Snow-Burner never had done anything like that. He had laid low the
+biggest men in camp, but it was usually with a kick or with a blow that
+was entirely unexpected. The Snow-Burner never warned any body. He
+smiled, threw them off their guard, then smote like a flash of
+lightning. He had whipped half a dozen men at once in a stand-up fight,
+but they had been poor Bohunks, fools who couldn’t fight unless they had
+knives in their hands. But to tell a seasoned bruiser like Bill, the
+best man with his fists in camp, to put up his hands and then beat him
+to the knockout punch—that was something that not even the Snow-Burner
+had attempted to do.
+
+That was taking a chance, that was; and the Snow-Burner never took
+chances. That was why these cruel-fierce “white men,” though they
+admired and applauded him for his dominance and his ruthlessness toward
+the Slavs, hated Reivers with a hatred that sprang from the Northern
+man’s instinctive liking for fair play in a fight. They began naturally
+to compare him with Toppy, who had played fair and yet won. And,
+naturally, because such were the standards they lived and died by, they
+began to predict that some day the Snow-Burner and Toppy must fight, and
+they hoped that they might be there to see the battle.
+
+So Toppy, this morning, as he came to the stockade, was in the position
+of something of a hero to most of the rough men who slouched past him in
+the gloom to their day’s work. He had felt it before, this hero-worship,
+and he recognised it again. Though the surroundings were vastly
+different and the men about him of a strange breeding, the sense of it
+was much the same as that he had known at school when, a sweater thrown
+across his huge shoulders, he had ploughed his way through the groups of
+worshipping undergrads on to the gridiron. It was much the same here.
+Men looked up to him. They nudged one another as they passed, lowered
+their voices when he was near, studied him appraisingly. Toppy had felt
+it before, too often to be mistaken; and the youth in his veins
+responded warmly. The respect of these men was a harder thing to win
+than the other. He thought of how he had arrived in camp, shaky from
+Harvey Duncombe’s champagne, with no purpose in life, no standing among
+men who were doing men’s work. Grimly also he thought of how Miss
+Pearson, that first evening, had called him a “nice boy.” Would she call
+him that now, he wondered, if she could see how these rough, tired men
+looked up to him? Would Reivers treat him as a thing to experiment with
+after this?
+
+Thus it was a considerably elated Toppy, though not a big-headed one,
+who led his men out of the stockade, to the quarry—to the blow that
+Reivers had waiting for him there. His first hint that something was
+wrong was when the foremost men, whistling and tool-laden, made for the
+pit in the first grey light of day and paused with exclamations and
+curses at its very mouth. Others crowded around them. They looked
+within. Then, with fallen jaws, they turned and looked to the “bahss”
+for an explanation, for help.
+
+Toppy shouldered his way through the press and stepped inside. Then he
+saw what had halted his men and made their faces turn white. To the last
+stick the shoring-timbers had been removed from the pit, and the roof,
+threatening and sharp-edged, hung ready to drop on the workmen below, as
+it had before Toppy had wrought a change.
+
+The daylight came creeping up the river and a wind began to blow. So
+still was it there before the pit-mouth that Toppy was conscious of
+these things as he stepped outside. The men were standing about with
+their wheelbarrows and tools in their hands. They looked to him. His was
+the mind and will to determine what they should do. They depended upon
+him; they trusted him; they would obey his word confidently.
+
+Toppy felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He wanted to take
+off his cap, to bare his head to the chill morning wind, to draw his
+hand across his eyes, to do something to ease himself and gather his
+wits. He did none of these things. The instinct of leadership arose
+strong within him. He could not show these men who looked up to him as
+their unquestioned leader that he had been dealt a blow that had taken
+the mastery from him.
+
+For Toppy, in that agonised second when he glanced up at the unsupported
+roof and knew what those loose rocks meant to any men working beneath,
+realised that he could not drive his men in there to certain injury for
+many, possibly death for some. It wasn’t in him. He wasn’t bred that
+way. The unfeeling brute had been removed from his big body and spirit
+by generations of men and women who had played fair with inferiors, and
+by a lifetime of training and education.
+
+He understood plainly the significance of the thing. Reivers had done
+it; no one else would have dared. He had lifted Toppy up to a tiny
+elevation above the other men in camp; now he was knocking him down. It
+was another way for Reivers to show his mastery. The men who had begun
+to look up to Toppy would now see how easily the Snow-Burner could show
+himself his superior. Miss Pearson would hear of it. He would appear in
+the light of a “nice boy” whom the Snow-Burner had played with.
+
+These thoughts ran through Toppy’s mind as he stood outside the pit,
+with his white-faced men looking up to him, and groped for a way out of
+his dilemma. Within he was sickened with the sense of a catastrophe;
+outside he remained calm and confident to the eye. He stepped farther
+out, to where he could see the end of the dam where he had secured the
+props for the roof. It was as he had expected; the big pile of timbers
+that had lain there was gone to the last stick. He turned slowly back,
+and then in the grey light of coming day he looked into the playfully
+smiling face of Reivers, who had emerged, it seemed, from nowhere.
+
+“Looking for your humanitarian props, Treplin?” laughed the Snow-Burner.
+“Oh, they’re gone; they’re valuable; they served a purpose which nothing
+else would fill—quite so conveniently. I used them for a corduroy road
+in the swamp. Between men and timbers, Treplin, always save your
+timbers.” His manner changed like a flash to one hurried and
+business-like. “What’re you waiting for?” he snarled. “Why don’t you get
+’em in there? Mean to say you’re wasting company money because one of
+these cattle might get a broken back?”
+
+They looked each other full in the eyes, but Toppy knew that for the
+time being Reivers had the whiphand.
+
+“I mean to say just that,” he said evenly. “I’m not sending any men in
+there until I get that roof propped up again.”
+
+“Bah!” Reivers’ disgust was genuine. “I thought you were a man; I find
+you’re a suit of clothes full of emotions, like all the rest!”
+
+He seemed to drive away his anger by sheer will-force and bring the
+cold, sneering smile back to his lips.
+
+“So we’re up against a situation that’s too strong for us, are we, Mr.
+Humanitarian?” he laughed. “In spite of our developed intelligence, we
+lay down cold in the face of a little proposition like this! Good-bye to
+our dreams of learning how to handle men! It isn’t in us to do it; we’re
+a weak sister.”
+
+His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all his changes. Toppy and
+his aspirations as a leader—that was another incident of the day’s work
+that was over and done with.
+
+“Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin,” he said quietly. “You’re not
+responsible for your limitations. Scotty says you make a pretty fair
+helper. Be consoled. He’s waiting for you.”
+
+He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with the hot blood rushing in
+his throat, but helpless as he was, swung away from the pit without a
+word. As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun guard had appeared
+and taken his position on the little rise where his gun bore slantwise
+on the huddled men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of sight of
+the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples throbbing with rage, but
+the cool section of his mind urged him away from the pit in silence.
+
+Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle. It was the ankle
+that made him accept without return the shame which Reivers had put upon
+him. The canny sense within him continued to whisper that until the
+ankle was sound he must bide his time. Reivers and he were too nearly a
+pair to give him the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance
+at even the slightest disadvantage.
+
+Choking back as well as he could the anger that welled up within him, he
+made his way swiftly to the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the
+anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy tread behind him.
+
+“The Snow-Burner promised he’d send you here, and——Losh, mon!” he gasped
+as he turned around and saw Toppy’s face. “What’s come o’er ye? You look
+like you’re ripe for murder.”
+
+“There’ll probably be murder done in this camp before the day’s over,
+but I won’t do it,” replied Toppy.
+
+As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting work he snapped out
+the story of the situation at the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his
+hammer, grew grim of lips and eyes as he listened.
+
+“Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you had ye lost at poker
+last night,” he said slowly. “He’s taking revenge. But they will put out
+his light for him. Human flesh and blood won’t stand it. The Snow-Burner
+goes too far. He’ll——Hark! Good Heavens! Hear that!”
+
+For a moment they stood near the open doorway of the shop staring at one
+another in horrified, mute questioning. The crisp stillness of the
+morning rang and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The sound came
+from the direction of the quarry. Across the street they heard the door
+of the office-building open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her
+light hair flying about her head, came running like a deer to the door
+of the shop.
+
+“Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!” she called tremblingly, peering inside.
+Then she saw Toppy.
+
+“Oh!” she gasped. She started back a little. There were surprise and
+relief in her exclamation, in her eyes, in her movement.
+
+“I was afraid—I thought maybe——” She drew away from the door in
+confusion. “I only wanted to know—to know—what that noise was.”
+
+But Toppy had stepped outside the shop and followed closely after her.
+
+“What did you think it was, Miss Pearson?” he asked. “What were you
+afraid of when you heard that shot? That something had happened between
+Reivers and myself?”
+
+“I—I meant to warn you,” she said, greatly flustered. “Tilly told me all
+about—a lot of things last night. She told me that she had told Reivers
+all she heard you say to me that first night here, and that he—Mr.
+Reivers, she said, was your enemy, and that he would—would surely hurt
+you.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“I didn’t want to see you get hurt, because I felt it was because of me
+that you came here. I—I don’t want any one hurt because of me.”
+
+“That’s all?” he asked.
+
+She looked surprised.
+
+“Why, yes.”
+
+Toppy nodded curtly.
+
+“Then Tilly told you that Mr. Reivers had a habit of hurting people?”
+
+At this the red in her cheeks rose to a flush. Her blue eyes looked at
+him waveringly, then dropped to the ground.
+
+“It isn’t true! It can’t be true!” she stammered.
+
+“Did Tilly tell you—about herself?” he persisted mercilessly.
+
+The next instant he wished the words unsaid, for she shrank as if he had
+struck her. She looked very small just then. Her proud, self-reliant
+bearing was gone. She was very much all alone.
+
+“Yes.” The word was scarcely more than a whisper and she did not look
+up. “But it—it can not be so; I know it can not.”
+
+Toppy was no student of feminine psychology, but he saw plainly that
+just then she was a woman who did not wish to believe, therefore would
+not believe, anything ill of the man who had fascinated her. He saw that
+Reivers had fascinated her; that in spite of herself she was drawn
+toward him, dominated by him. Her mind told her that what she had heard
+of the man was true, but her heart refused to let her believe. Toppy saw
+that she was very unhappy and troubled, and unselfishly he forgot
+himself and his enmity toward Reivers in a desire to help her.
+
+“Miss Pearson!—Miss Pearson!” he cried eagerly. “Is there anything I can
+do for you—anything in the world?”
+
+“Yes,” she said slowly. “Tell me that it isn’t so—what Mr. Campbell and
+Tilly have said about Mr. Reivers.”
+
+“I——” He was about to say that he could do nothing of the sort, but
+something made him halt. “Has Reivers broken his word to you—about
+leaving you alone?”
+
+“No, no! He’s—he’s left me alone. He’s scarcely spoken to me half a
+dozen times.”
+
+Toppy looked down at her for several seconds.
+
+“But you’ve begun to care for Reivers, haven’t you?” he said.
+
+The girl looked up at him uncertainly.
+
+“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know! I don’t seem to have any will of my own
+toward him. I seem to see him as a different man. I know I shouldn’t;
+but I can’t help it, I can help it! He—he looks at me, and I feel as
+if—as if—” her voice died down to a horrified whisper—“I were nothing,
+and his wishes were the only things in the world.”
+
+Toppy bowed his head.
+
+“Then I guess there’s nothing for me to say.”
+
+“Don’t!” she cried, stretching out her hand to restrain him as he turned
+away. “Don’t leave me—like that. You’re so rude to me lately. I feel so
+terribly alone when you—aren’t nice to me.”
+
+“What difference can I make?” he said bitterly. “I’m not Reivers.”
+
+She looked up at him again.
+
+“Oh!” she cried suddenly. “Won’t you help me, Mr. Treplin? Can’t you
+help me?”
+
+“Help you?” gasped Toppy. “May I? Can I? What can I do?”
+
+He leaned toward her eagerly.
+
+“What can I do” he repeated.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know!” she murmured in anguish. “But if you—if you leave
+me—Oh! What was that?”
+
+From the direction of the quarry had come a great scream of terror, as
+if many men suddenly had cried out in fear of their lives. Then, almost
+ere the echoes had died away, came another sound, of more sinister
+significance to Toppy. There was a sudden low rumble; the earth under
+their feet trembled; then the noise of a crash and a thud. Then it was
+still again.
+
+A chill seemed to pass over the entire camp. Men began running toward
+the quarry with swift steps, their faces showing that they dreaded what
+they expected to see. Toppy and Campbell looked silently at one another.
+
+“Go into the office,” he said quietly to the girl. “Come on, Scotty;
+that roof’s caved in.” And without another word they ran swiftly toward
+the quarry. As they reached the river-bank they heard Reivers’ voice
+quietly issuing orders.
+
+“You guards pick those two fellows up and carry them to their bunks. You
+scum that’s left, pick up your tools and dig into that fallen rock.
+Hustle now! Get right back to work!”
+
+The first thing that Toppy saw as he turned the shoulder of the ledge
+was that two of the older Slavs were lying groaning on the ground to one
+side of where the pit mouth had been. Then he saw what was left of the
+pit. The entire side of the ledge had caved down, and where the pit had
+been was only a jumbled pile of jagged rock. Reivers stood in his old
+position before the pile. The hawk-nosed shotgun guard stood up on the
+little rise, his weapon ready. The remaining workmen were huddled
+together before the pile of fallen stone. The terror in their faces was
+unspeakable. They were like lost, driven cattle facing the butcher’s
+hammer.
+
+“Grab those tools there! Get at it! The rock’s right in front of you
+now! Get busy!”
+
+Reivers’ voice in no way admitted that anything startling had occurred.
+He glared at the cowering men, and in terror they began hastily to
+resume their interrupted work, filling their wheelbarrows from the pile
+of stone before them. Reivers turned toward Toppy who had bent over the
+injured men. “Hello, Dr. Treplin,” he laughed lightly. “A couple of jobs
+there for you to experiment on. Get ’em out of here—to their bunks;
+they’re in the way. Patch ’em up if you can. If you can’t they’re not
+much loss, anyhow. They’re rather older than I like ’em.”
+
+The last words came carelessly over his shoulder as he turned back
+toward the men who were toiling at the rock. A string of curses rolled
+coldly from his lips. They leaped to obey him. He smiled contemptuously.
+
+Toppy was relieved to see that the two men on the ground were apparently
+not fatally hurt. With the aid of Campbell and two guards who had run up
+he hurried to have the men placed in their bunks in the stockade. One of
+the guards produced a surgeon’s kit. Toppy rolled up his sleeves. It
+wasn’t as bad as he had feared it would be, apparently; only two
+injured, where he had looked for some surely to be killed. One of the
+men was growing faint from loss of blood from a wound in his right leg.
+Toppy, turning his attention to him first, swiftly slit open the
+trousers-leg and bared the injured limb.
+
+“What—what the devil?” he cried aghast. The calf of the man’s leg was
+half torn away, and from knee to ankle the flesh was sprinkled with
+buckshot-holes.
+
+“They shot you?” he asked as he fashioned a tourniquet.
+
+“Yes, bahass. Snow-Burner say, ‘Get t’ ‘ell in there.’ Rocks fall; we no
+go in. Snow-Burner hold up hand. Man with gun shoot. I fall. Other men
+go in. Pretty soon rocks fall. Other men come out. He shoot me. I no do
+anything; he shoot me.”
+
+Toppy choked back the curse that rose to his lips, dressed the man’s
+wound to the best of his slight ability, and turned to the other, who
+had been caught in the cave-in of the quarry-roof. His right leg and arm
+were broken, and the side was crushed in a way that suggested broken
+ribs. Toppy filled a hypodermic syringe and went to work to make the two
+as comfortable as he knew how. That was all he could pretend to do. Yet
+when he left the stockade it was with a feeling of relief that he looked
+back over the morning. The worst had happened; the danger to the men was
+over; and, so far as Toppy knew, the consequences were represented in
+the two men whom he had treated and who, so far as he could see, were
+sure to live. It hadn’t turned out as badly as he was afraid it would.
+
+As he passed the carpenter-shop he saw the “wood-butcher” sawing two
+boards to make a cover for a long, narrow box. Toppy looked at him idly,
+trying to think of what such a box could be used for around the camp. It
+was too narrow for its length to be of ordinary use as a box.
+
+“What are you making there?” asked Toppy carelessly.
+
+The “wood-butcher” looked up from his sawing.
+
+“Didn’t you ever see a logging-camp coffin?” he asked. “We always keep a
+few ready. This one is for that Bohunk that’s down there under the
+rocks.”
+
+“Under the rocks!” cried Toppy. “You don’t mean to say there was anybody
+under that cave-in!”
+
+“Is yet,” was the laconic reply. “One of ’em was caught ’way inside.
+Whole roof on top of him. Won’t find him till the pit’s emptied.”
+
+Toppy struggled a moment to speak quietly.
+
+“Which one was it, do you know?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, it was that old brown-complected fellow,” said the carpenter. “That
+old Bohunk guy with the big rings in his ears.”
+
+Reivers came to the shop at his customary time in the evening, nothing
+in his manner containing a hint that anything unusual had happened
+during the day. He found a solemn and silent pair, for Campbell had
+sought relief from the day’s tragedy in his customary manner and sat in
+the light of the student-lamp steadily reading his Bible, while Toppy,
+in a dark corner, sat with his great shoulders hunched forward, his
+folded hands before him, and stared at the floor. Reivers paused in the
+doorway, his cold smile broadening as he surveyed the pair.
+
+“Poker to-night—doctor?” he said softly, and the slur in his tones was
+like blasphemy toward all that men hold sacred.
+
+“No, by ——, no!” growled Toppy.
+
+Laughing lightly, Reivers closed the door and came across the room.
+
+“What? Aren’t you going to give me my revenge—doctor?” The manner in
+which he accented “doctor” was worse than an open insult.
+
+Old Campbell peered over his thick glasses.
+
+“The sword of judgment is sharpening for you, Mr. Reivers,” he said
+solemnly. “You ha’ this day sealed your own doom. A life for a life; and
+you have taken a life to-day unnecessarily. It is the holy law; you will
+pay. It is so written.”
+
+“Yes, yes, yes!” laughed Reivers in great amusement. “But you’ve said
+that so many times before in just that same way, Scotty. Can’t you
+evolve a new idea? Or at least sing it in a different key?”
+
+The old Scot looked at him without wavering or changing his expression.
+
+“You are the smartest man I have ever known, Mr. Reivers, and the
+domdest fool,” he said in the same tone. “Do you fancy yourself more
+than mortal? Losh, man! A knife in the bowels, or a bullet or ax in the
+head will as readily make you a bit of poor clay as you’ve this day made
+yon poor old Bohunk.”
+
+Reivers listened courteously to the end, waiting even a moment to be
+sure that Campbell had had his say.
+
+“And you—doctor?” he said turning to Toppy. “What melancholy thoughts
+have you to utter?”
+
+Toppy said nothing.
+
+“Oh, come, Treplin!” said Reivers lightly. “Surely you’re not letting a
+little thing like that quarry-incident give you a bad evening? Where’s
+your philosophy, man? Consider the thing intelligently instead of
+sentimentally. There was so much rock to go into that dam in a day—and
+incidentally to-day finished the job. That was a useful, necessary work.
+
+“For that old man to continue in this life was not useful or necessary.
+He was far down in the order of human development; centuries below you
+and me. Do you think it made the slightest difference whether he
+returned to the old cosmic mud whence he came, and from which he had not
+come far, in to-day’s little cave-in, or in a dirty bed, say ten years
+from now?
+
+“He accomplished a tiny speck of useful work, through my direction. He
+has gone, as the wood will soon be gone that is heating that stove.
+There was no spirit there; only a body that has ceased to stand upright.
+And you grow moody over it! Well, well! I’m more and more disappointed
+in you—doctor.”
+
+Toppy said nothing. He was biding his time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI—THE SCREWS TIGHTEN
+
+
+That night came the heavy snow for which the loggers had been waiting,
+and a rush of activity followed in Hell Camp. The logs which had lain in
+the woods for want of sleighing now were accessible. Following the snow
+came hard, freezing nights, and the main ice-roads which Reivers had
+driven into the timber for miles became solid beds of ice over which a
+team could haul log loads to the extent of a carload weight. It was
+ideal logging-weather, and the big camp began to hum.
+
+The mastery of Reivers once more showed itself in the way in which he
+drove his great crew at top speed and beyond. The feeling against him on
+the part of the men had risen to silent, tight-lipped heat as the news
+went around of how the old Magyar with the ear-rings had met his death.
+Each man in camp knew that he might have been in the old man’s shoes;
+each knew that Reivers’ anger might fall on him next. In the total of a
+hundred and fifty men in camp there was probably not one who did not
+curse Reivers and rage against his rule, and there were few who, if the
+opportunity had offered, would not cheerfully have taken his life.
+
+The feeling against him had unified itself. Before, the men had been
+split into various groups on the subject of the boss. They remained
+divided now, but on one thing they were unanimous: the Snow-Burner had
+gone too far to bear. Men sat on the bunk-edges in the stockade and
+cursed as they thought of the boss and the shotgun guards that rendered
+them helpless. Reivers permitted no firearms of any kind in camp save
+those that were carried by his gunmen.
+
+The gunmen when not on guard kept to their quarters, in the building
+just outside of the stockade gate, where Reivers also lived. When armed,
+they were ordered to permit no man to approach nearer than ten feet to
+them—this to prevent a possible rushing and wresting the weapons from
+their hands. So long as the guards were there in possession of their
+shotguns the men knew that they were helpless. Driven to desperation
+now, they prayed for the chance to get those guns into their own hands.
+After that they promised themselves that the score of brutality would be
+made even.
+
+Then came the time for rush work, and under the lash of Reivers’ will
+the outraged men, carried off their feet, were driven with a ferocity
+that told how completely Reivers ignored the spirit of revolt which he
+knew was fomenting against him. He quit playing with them, as he
+expressed it; he began to drive.
+
+Long before daylight began to grey the sky above the eastern timber-line
+the men were out at their posts, waiting for sufficient light to begin
+the day’s work. Once the work began it went ahead with a fury that
+seemed to carry all men with it. Reivers was everywhere that a man dared
+to pause for a moment to shirk his job. He used his hands now, for a
+broken leg or rib laid a man up, and he had use for the present for
+every man he could muster. He scarcely looked at the men he hit,
+breaking their faces with a sudden, treacherous blow, cursing them
+coldly until, despite their injuries, they leaped at their work, then
+whirling away to fall upon some other luckless one elsewhere.
+
+He was a fury, a merciless elemental force, with no consideration for
+the strength and endurance of men; sparing no one any more than he
+spared himself, and rushing his whole force along at top speed by sheer
+power of the spirit of leadership that possessed him. Men ceased for the
+time being to growl and pray that the Snow-Burner would get his just
+due. They had no thought nor energies for anything but keeping pace in
+the whirlwind rush of work through which the Snow-Burner drove them.
+
+In the blacksmith-shop the same condition prevailed as elsewhere in the
+camp. The extra hurry of the work in the timber meant extra accidents,
+which meant breakages. There were chain-links to be forged and fitted to
+broken chains; sharp two-inch calks to be driven into the horses’ shoes,
+peaveys and cant-hooks to be repaired. Besides the regular
+blacksmith-work of the camp, which was quite sufficient to keep Campbell
+and one helper comfortably employed, there was now added each day a bulk
+of extra work due to the strain under which men, horses and tools were
+working.
+
+Old Campbell, grimly resolute that Reivers should have no excuse to fall
+foul of him, drove himself and his helper at a speed second only to that
+with which he had so roughly greeted Toppy to the rough world of bodily
+labour. But the Toppy who now hammered and toiled at Campbell’s side was
+a different man from the champagne-softened youth who had come into camp
+a little while before. The puffiness was gone from under his eyes, the
+looseness from his lips and the fat from around the middle. Through his
+veins the blood now surged with no taint of cumbering poison; his
+tissues tingled with life and healthiness.
+
+Day by day he did his share and more in the shop-work, and instead of
+the old feeling of fatigue, which before had followed any prolonged
+exertion, felt his muscles spring with hardness and new life at each
+demand made upon them. The old joy of a strong man in his strength came
+back in him. Stripped to the waist he stretched himself and filled his
+great lungs with deep drafts, his arms like beams stretched out and
+above his head. Under the clean skin, rosy and moist from exertion, the
+muscles bunched and relaxed, tautened instantly to iron hardness or
+rippled softly as they were called upon, in the perfect co-ordination
+which results in great athletes. Old Campbell, similarly stripped,
+stared at the marvel of a giant’s perfect torso, beside which his own
+work-wrought body was ugly in its unequal development.
+
+“Losh, man! But you’re full grown!” he growled in admiration. “I’ve seen
+but one man who could strip anywhere near to you.”
+
+“Who was he?” asked Toppy.
+
+“The Snow-Burner.”
+
+Day by day Toppy hammered and laboured at Campbell’s side, holding his
+end up against the grim old smith, and day by day he felt his muscles
+growing toward that iron condition in which there is no tiring.
+Presently, to Scotty’s vexation, he was doing more than his share,
+ending the day with a laugh and waking up in the morning as fresh as if
+he had not taxed his energies the day before.
+
+At first he continued to favour his injured ankle, lest a sudden strain
+delay its recovery. Each night he massaged and bandaged it
+scientifically. Later on, when he felt that it was stronger, he began to
+exercise it, slowly raising and lowering himself on the balls of his
+feet. In a couple of weeks the old spring and strength had largely come
+back, and Campbell snorted in disgust at the antics indulged in by his
+helper when the day’s work was done.
+
+“Skipping a rope one, twa hundred times! What brand o’ silliness do ye
+call that?” he grumbled. “Ha’ ye nothing useful to do wi’ them long legs
+of yourn, that you have to make a jumping-jack out o’ yourself?”
+
+At which Toppy smiled grimly and continued his training.
+
+The rush of work had its compensations. Reivers, driving his force like
+mad, had no time to waste either in bantering Toppy and Campbell in the
+evening or in paying attention to Miss Pearson. All the power that was
+in the Snow-Burner was concentrated upon the problem of getting out
+every stick of timber possible while the favourable weather continued.
+He spent most of his time in the timber up-river where the heaviest
+logging was going on.
+
+By day he raged in the thick of the men with only one thought or aim—to
+get out the logs as fast as human and horse-power could do it. At night
+the road-crews, repairing with pick and shovel and sprinkling-tanks the
+wear and tear of the day’s hauling, worked under Reivers’ compelling
+eyes. All night long the sprinkling-tanks went up and down the
+ice-coated roads, and the drivers, freezing on the seats, were afraid to
+stop or nod, not knowing when the Snow-Burner might step out from the
+shadows and catch them in the act.
+
+The number of accidents, always too plentiful in logging-camps,
+multiplied, but Reivers permitted nothing short of broken bones to send
+a man to his bunk. Toppy, besides his work in the shop, cared as best he
+could for the disabled. Reivers had no time to waste that way now. The
+two men hurt at the quarry were recovering rapidly. One day a tall, lean
+“white man,” a Yankee top-loader, came hobbling out of the woods with
+his foot dangling at the ankle, and mumbling curses through a smashed
+jaw.
+
+“How did you get this?” asked Toppy, as he dressed the cruelly crushed
+foot.
+
+“Pinched between two logs,” mumbled the man. “They let one come down the
+skids when I wasn’t lookin’. No fault of mine; I didn’t have time to
+jump. And then, when I’m standin’ there leanin’ against a tree, that
+devil Reivers comes up and hands me this.” He pointed to his cracked
+jaw. “He’ll teach me to get myself hurt, he says. ——! That ain’t no man;
+he’s a devil! By ——! I know what I’d ruther have than the wages comin’
+to me, and that’s a rifle with one good cattridge in it and that ——
+standin’ afore me.”
+
+Yet that evening, when Reivers came to the top-loader’s bunk and
+demanded how long he expected to lie there eating his head off, the man
+cringed and whimpered that he would be back on the job as soon as his
+foot was fit to stand on. In Reivers’ presence the men were afraid to
+call their thoughts their own, but behind his back the mumblings and
+grumblings of hatred were growing to a volume which inevitably soon must
+break out in the hell-yelp of a mob ripe for murder.
+
+Reivers knew it better than any man in camp. To indicate how it affected
+him he turned the screws on tighter than ever. Once, at least, “they had
+him dead,” as they admitted, when he stood ankle-deep in the river with
+the saw-logs thundering over the rollways to the brink of the bluff
+above his head. One cunning twist of a peavey would have sent a dozen
+logs tumbling over the brink on his head. Reivers sensed his danger and
+looked up. He smiled. Then he turned and deliberately stood with his
+back to the men. And no man dared to give his peavey that one cunning
+twist.
+
+During these strenuous days Toppy tried in vain to muster up sufficient
+courage to reopen the conversation with Miss Pearson which had been so
+suddenly interrupted by the cave-in at the quarry. He saw her every day.
+She had changed greatly from the high-spirited, self-reliant girl who
+had stood on the steps of the hotel back at Rail Head and told the whole
+world by her manner that she was accustomed and able to take care of
+herself. A stronger will than hers had entered her scheme of life.
+
+Although she knew now that Reivers had tricked her into coming to Hell
+Camp because he was confident of winning her, the knowledge made no
+difference. The will of the man dominated and fascinated her. She feared
+him, yet she was drawn toward him despite her struggles. She fought hard
+against the inclination to yield to the stronger will, to let her
+feelings make her his willing slave, as she knew he wished. The pain of
+the struggle shone in her eyes. Her cheeks lost their bloom; there were
+lines about the little mouth.
+
+Toppy saw it, but an unwonted shyness had come upon him. He could no
+longer speak to her with the frank friendliness of their previous
+conversations. Something which he could not place had, he felt, set them
+apart.
+
+Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the fascinations which Reivers had
+for her. Reivers was his enemy. They had been enemies from the moment
+when they first had measured each other eye to eye. He felt that he had
+one aim in life now, and one only; that was to prove to himself and to
+Reivers that Reivers was not his master.
+
+Beyond that he had no plans. He knew that this meant a grapple which
+must end with one of them broken and helpless. The unfortunate one might
+be himself. In that case there would be no need to think of the future,
+and it would be just as well not to have spoken any more with the girl.
+
+It might be Reivers. Then he would be guilty in her eyes of having
+injured the man for whom the girl now obviously had feelings which Toppy
+could construe in but one way. She cared for Reivers, in spite of
+herself; and she would not be inclined to friendliness toward the man
+who had conquered him, if conquered he should be.
+
+The more Toppy thought it over the less enviable, to his notion, became
+his standing with the girl. He ended by resolutely determining to put
+her out of his thoughts. After all, he was no girl’s man. He had no
+business trying to be. For the present he saw one task laid out before
+him as inevitable as a revealed fate—to prove himself with Reivers, to
+get to grips with the cold-blooded master-man who had made him feel,
+with every man in camp, that the place veritably was a Hell Camp.
+
+Reivers’ brutal dominance lay like a tangible weight upon Toppy’s
+spirit. He longed for only one thing—for the opportunity to stand up eye
+to eye with him and learn who was the better man. Beyond that he did not
+see, nor care. He had given up any thought that the girl might ever care
+for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII—TILLY’S WARNING
+
+
+November passed, and the first half of December. The shortest days of
+the year were approaching, and still the cold, crisp weather, ideal for
+logging, continued without a break. Hell Camp continued to hum with its
+abnormal activity. A thaw which would spoil the sleighing and ice-roads
+for the time being was long over-due. With the coming of the thaw would
+come a temporary lull in the work of the camp.
+
+The men prayed for the thaw; Reivers asked that the cold weather
+continue. It had continued now longer than he had expected or hoped, and
+the output of the camp already was double that of what would have been
+successful logging at that season. But Reivers was not satisfied. The
+record that he was setting served only to spur his ambition to
+desperation.
+
+The longer the cold spell hung on the harder he drove. Each day, as he
+looked at the low, grey sky and saw that there were no signs of a
+break-up, he turned to and set the pace a little faster than the day
+before. The madness of achievement, the passion to use his powers to
+accomplish the impossible, the characteristics which had won him the
+name of Snow-Burner, were in possession. He was doing the impossible; he
+was accomplishing what no other man could do, what all men said was
+impossible; and the feat only created a hunger to do more.
+
+The men were past grumbling now, too tired of body and too crushed of
+mind to give expression to their feelings. So long as the rush of work
+continued they were as harmless as harnessed and driven cattle,
+incapable of anything more than keeping step in the mad march that the
+Snow-Burner was leading. But all men knew that with the coming of a thaw
+and the cessation of work would come an explosion of the murderous
+hatred which Reivers’ tactics had driven into the hearts of the men. Now
+and then a man, driven to a state of desperation which excluded the
+possibility of fear, stopped and rebelled. One day a young swamper, a
+gangling lad of twenty, raging and weeping, threw himself upon Reivers
+like a cat upon a bear. Reivers, with a laugh, thrust him off and kicked
+him out of the way. Another time a huge Slav sprang at him with his
+razor-edged ax up-raised, and, quailing before Reivers’ calm look,
+hurled the ax away with a scream and ran blindly away into the trackless
+woods. Three days later, starving and with frozen hands and feet, he
+came stumbling up to the stockade and fell in a lump.
+
+“Feed him up,” ordered Reivers, smiling. “I’ve got a little use for him
+when he’s fixed up so he can feel. You see, Treplin,” he continued to
+Toppy, who had been called to bring the man back to life, “I’m not all
+cruelty. When I want to save a man to amuse myself with I’m almost as
+much of a humanitarian as you are.”
+
+He hurried on his way, but before he was out of hearing he flung back——
+
+“You remember how carefully I had Tilly nurse you, don’t you—doctor?”
+
+It was only the guards that Reivers did not make enemies of. He knew
+that he had need of their loyalty. At night the “white men” sat on the
+edges of their bunks and tried to concoct feasible schemes for securing
+possession of the shotguns of the guards.
+
+On the morning of the shortest day of the year Toppy heard a scratching
+sound at the window near his bunk and sprang up. It was still pitch
+dark, long before any one should be stirring around camp save the cook
+and cookees.
+
+“Who’s there?” demanded Toppy.
+
+“Me. Want talk um with you,” came the low response from without. “You no
+come out. No make noise. Hear through window. You can hear um when I
+talk huh?”
+
+“Tilly!” gasped Toppy. “What’s up?”
+
+“You hear um what I talk?” asked the squaw again.
+
+“Yes, yes; I can hear you. What is it?”
+
+“You like um li’l Miss Pearson, huh?” said Tilly bluntly.
+
+“What?” Toppy’s heart was pounding with sudden excitement. “What—what’s
+up, Tilly? There hasn’t anything happened to Miss Pearson, has there?”
+
+“Uh! You like um Miss Pearson? Tell um Tilly straight or Tilly go ’way
+and no talk um more with you. You like her? Huh?”
+
+“Yes,” said Toppy breathlessly, after a long pause. “Yes, I like her.
+What is it?”
+
+“You no like see um Miss Pearson get hurt?”
+
+“No, no; of course not. Who’s going to hurt her?”
+
+“Snow-Burner,” said Tilly. “Tilly tell you this before she go ’way.
+Tilly going ’way now. Tilly going ’way far off to father’s tepee.
+Snow-Burner tell um me go. Snow-Burner tell um me go last night.
+Snow-Burner say he no want Tilly stay in camp longer. Tilly know why
+Snow-Burner no want her stay in camp. Snow-Burner through with Tilly.
+Snow-Burner now want um Miss Pearson. So.”
+
+“Tilly! Hold on!” She had already turned away, but she halted at his
+voice and came close to the window. “What is this? Are you going away at
+once—because the Snow-Burner says so?”
+
+The squaw nodded, stoically submissive.
+
+“Snow-Burner say ‘go’; Tilly go,” she said. “Snow-Burner say go before
+any one see um me this morning. I go now. Must go; Snow-Burner say so.”
+
+“And Miss Pearson?” whispered Toppy frantically. “Did he say anything
+about her?”
+
+Tilly nodded heavily.
+
+“Tell um me long ’go. Tell um me before Miss Pearson come. Tell um me he
+going marry Miss Pearson for um Christmas present. Christmas Day come
+soon now. Snow-Burner no want Tilly here then. Send Tilly ’way.”
+
+The breath seemed to leave Toppy’s body for an instant. He swayed and
+caught at the window-frame.
+
+“Marry her—Christmas Day?” he whispered, horrified.
+
+“Yes. He no tell um Miss Pearson yet. He tell me no tell um her, no tell
+um anybody. I tell you. Now go.”
+
+Before Toppy had sufficiently recovered his wits to speak again he heard
+the crunch of her moccasins on the snow dying away in the darkness as
+the cast-off squaw stolidly started on her journey into the woods.
+
+“Tilly!” called Toppy desperately, but there was no answer.
+
+“What’s matter?” murmured Campbell, disturbed in his deep slumber, and
+falling to sleep again before he received a reply.
+
+Toppy stood for a long time with his face held close to the window
+through which he had heard Tilly’s startling news. The shock had numbed
+him. Although he had been prepared to expect anything of Reivers, he now
+realised that this was something more than he had thought possible even
+from him. The Snow-Burner—marry Miss Pearson—for a Christmas
+present—Christmas Day! He seemed to hear Tilly repeating the words over
+and over again. And Reivers had not even so much as told Miss Pearson of
+what he intended to do. He had not even told her that he intended to
+marry her. So Tilly said, and Tilly knew. What did Reivers intend to do
+then? How did he know he was going to marry her? How did he know she
+would have him?
+
+Toppy shivered a little as his wits began to work more clearly, and the
+full significance of the situation began to grow clear to him. He
+understood now. Reivers had good reason for making his plans so
+confidently. He had studied the girl until he had seen that his will had
+dominated hers; that though she might not love him, might even fear him,
+she had not the will-power against him to say nay to his wishes.
+
+He knew that she was helplessly fascinated, that she was his for the
+taking. He had been too busy to take her until now; the serious duties
+of his position had allowed no time for dalliance. So the girl had been
+safe and unmolested—until now! And now Reivers was secretly preparing to
+make her his own!
+
+A sudden thought struck Toppy, and he tiptoed to the door and looked
+out. Instead of the crisp coldness of recent mornings there was a warm
+mugginess in the air; and Toppy, bending down, placed his hand on the
+snow and felt that it had begun to soften. The thaw had come.
+
+“I thought so,” he said to himself. “The work will break up now, and
+he’s going to amuse himself. Well, he made a mistake when he told Tilly.
+She’s been civilised just enough to make her capable of jealousy.”
+
+He went back to his bunk and dressed.
+
+“What are you stirring around so early for?” grumbled Campbell. “Dinna
+ye get work enough during the day, to be getting up in the dark?”
+
+“The thaw’s come,” said Toppy, throwing on his cap. “There’ll be
+something doing besides work now.”
+
+He went out into the dark morning, crossed the road and softly tried the
+door to the office. He felt much better when he had assured himself that
+the door was securely locked on the inside. Then he returned to the shop
+and waited for the daylight to appear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII—“CANNY BY NATURE”
+
+
+Old Campbell arose at his usual time, surprised and pleased to find that
+Toppy had breakfast already cooked and on the table. Being a canny Scot,
+he did not express his surprise or pleasure, but proceeded to look about
+for signs to indicate the reason of Toppy’s unwonted conduct. All that
+he could make out was that Toppy’s eyes were bright with some sort of
+excitement, and that the grim set of his mouth had given way to an
+expression of relief. So the Scot sat down to eat, shaking his grey head
+in puzzled fashion.
+
+“I dinna see that this thaw should be any reason for your parading
+around before the night’s done,” he grumbled. “Were you so tired of a
+little useful work that ye maun greet a let-down with such early
+rising?”
+
+Toppy sat down and proceeded to breakfast without venturing a reply.
+When they had finished the meal he pushed back his chair and looked
+across at Campbell. Huge and careless, he sprawled in his chair, the
+tension and uncertainty gone now that he had made his resolution; and
+Campbell, studying his face, sensed that something was up and leaned
+forward eagerly.
+
+“I want to lay off to-day, Scotty,” said Toppy deliberately. “I’ve got a
+little business that I want to settle with Reivers.”
+
+Old Campbell did not start nor in any way indicate surprise.
+
+“Aye!” he said quietly after a pause. “I ha’ seen from the first it
+would have to be that in the end. Ye maun settle which is best man. But
+why to-day?”
+
+“Because now that the thaw has spoiled the sleighing Reivers will have
+time for deviltry.” And Toppy went on and told all that he had heard
+from Tilly’s lips that morning. Campbell shook his head angrily as he
+heard.
+
+“Many things has the Snow-Burner done ill,” he said, “and his sins
+against men and women cry for punishment; but that—to yon little
+lass—gi’n he did that, that would be worst of all. What are your plans,
+lad?”
+
+“Nothing,” said Toppy. “I will go and find him, and we’ll have it out.”
+
+“Not so,” said Campbell swiftly. “Gi’n you did that ‘twould cost you
+your life did you chance to win o’er him. Do you think those devils with
+the guns would not murder to win favour of the Snow-Burner, him holding
+the lives and liberty of all of them in his hands as he does? Nay, lad!
+Fight ye must; you’re both too big and spirited to meet without coming
+to grips; but you have aye the need of an old head on your side if
+you’re to stand up with Reivers on even terms.
+
+“What think you he would fancy, did you go to him with a confident bold
+challenge as you suggest? That you had a trick up your sleeve, with the
+men in on it, perhaps; and he’d have the guards there with their guns to
+see he won as sure as we’re sitting here talking. No; I ha’ seen for
+weeks ’twas coming on, and I ha’ been using this auld head o’ mine. I
+may even say I ha’ been doing more than thinking; I ha’ been talking. I
+have told Reivers that you were becoming unbearable in this shop, and
+that I could not stand you much longer as my helper.”
+
+Toppy looked across the table, amazed and pained.
+
+“Why—what’s wrong, Scotty?” he stammered.
+
+“Tush, lad!” snapped the old man. “Dinna think I meant it. I only told
+Reivers so for the effect.”
+
+Toppy was bewildered.
+
+“I don’t see what you’re driving at, Scotty.”
+
+“Listen, then; I ha’ told Reivers that you were getting the swell head
+so bad there was no working you. I ha’ told him you were at heart
+nothing but a fresh young whiffet who needed taming, and gi’n he made me
+keep you here I mysel’ would do the taming with an ax-handle. Do you
+begin to get my drift now, lad?”
+
+“I confess I don’t,” admitted Toppy.
+
+“Well, then—Reivers said: ‘That’s how I sized him up, too. But don’t you
+do the taming, Campbell,’ says he. ‘I am saving him for mysel’,’ he
+says. ‘But I will not put up with his lip longer,’ said I. ‘Man,
+Reivers,’ I says, ‘he thinks he’s a fighter, and the other day I slammed
+him on his back mysel’; and gi’n I had my old wind,’ I says, ‘I would
+have whipped him then and there.’
+
+“Oh, carried on strong, losing my temper and all. ‘Five year ago I would
+ha’ broken his back, the big young fool!’ I says. ‘An’ he swaggers
+around me and thinks he’s a boss man because he licked that bloat
+Sheedy. Ah!’ I says. ‘I’ll stand it till he gives me lip again; then
+I’ll lay him out with whatever I have in my hands,’ says I.
+
+“‘Don’t do it,’ says Reivers, smiling to see me so worked up, and
+surmising, as I intended he should, that I was angry only because I’d
+discovered that you were a better man than mysel’. ‘Save him for me,’
+says he. ‘As soon as I have more time I will ’tend to him. In the
+meantime,’ he says, ‘let him go on thinking he is a good man.’
+
+“Lad, he swallowed it all, for it’s four years since he knew me first,
+and that was the first lie I’d told him at all. ‘I’ll take him under my
+eye soon as I have more time,’ says he. ‘He’ll not swagger after I’ve
+tamed him a little.’”
+
+“But I don’t just see——”
+
+“Dolt! Dinna you see that noo he considers you as an overconfident young
+fool whom he’s going to take the conceit out of? Dinna ye see that noo
+you’re in the same category as the other men he’s broken down? He’ll not
+think it worth while to have his shotgun men handy noo when he starts in
+to do his breaking. He’ll start it, ye understand; not you. ’Twill be
+proper so. I will go this morning and tell him that the end has come;
+that I can not stand you longer around me. He’ll give you something to
+do—under him. Under him, do you see? Then you must e’en watch your
+chance, and—and happen I’ll manage to be around in case the guards
+should show up.”
+
+“Better keep out of it altogether,” said Toppy. “They won’t use their
+guns in an even fight, and you couldn’t do anything with your bare hands
+if they did.”
+
+“With my bare hands, no,” said Campbell, going to his bunk. “But I am
+not so bare-handed as you think, lad.” He dug under the blankets and
+held up a huge black revolver. “Canny by nature!” he said; thrusting the
+grim weapon under his trousers-band. “I made no idle threat when I told
+Reivers I would shoot his head off did he ever try to make a broken man
+out of me. I have had this utensil handy ever since.”
+
+“Scotty,” cried Toppy, deeply moved at the old man’s staunch friendship,
+“when did you begin to plan this scheme?”
+
+Campbell looked squarely into his eyes.
+
+“The same day that I talked with yon lassie and learned how Reivers had
+fascinated her.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Dinna ye know nothing about women, lad?”
+
+“I——What do you mean?”
+
+“Do you fancy Reivers could carry his will so strong with folks gi’n ye
+happen to make a beaten man out of him? And do you not think yon lass
+would come back to her right mind gi’n the Snow-Burner loses his power
+o’er her? You’re no’ so blind as not to see she’s no liking for him, but
+the de’il has in a way mesmerised her.”
+
+“Then you mean——”
+
+“That when you and the Snow-Burner put up your mitts ye’ll be fighting
+for more than just to see who’s best man. Now think that over, lad,
+while I go and complain to Reivers that I can not stand you an hour
+longer, and arrange for him to give you your taming.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX—THE FIGHT
+
+
+It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the air had fled before the
+unclouded sun, and the day was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight
+coming in through the eastern window flooded the room. Outside could be
+heard the steady drip-drip from the melting icicles, and the chirp of
+the chickadees industriously seeking a breakfast around the door made
+the morning cheery.
+
+Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell had gone on his
+errand, and looked out of the open door, and waited. From where he sat
+he could see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss Pearson
+come out, stand for a moment in the doorway peering around in puzzled
+fashion, and go in again.
+
+Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified—that the girl was
+puzzled and perhaps frightened over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but
+he had no impulse to cross the street and break the news to her. The
+girl, Tilly’s absence, such things were to him only incidentals now. He
+saw the girl as if far away, as if she were something that did not
+greatly concern him.
+
+Through his mind there ran recollections of other moments like
+this—moments of waiting in the training-quarters back at school for the
+word of the coach to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit
+after the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking of all
+worry and nervousness in the knowledge that now that the test was on he
+would do the best that was in him, and that beyond this there was
+nothing for a man to think or worry about.
+
+Back there at school there had also been that sense of dissociation from
+all things not involved in the contest before him. The roaring stands,
+the pretty girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of his name
+shouted far down the field—he had heard them, but they had not affected
+him. For the time being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human
+machine, completely concentrated, as machines must be, upon the
+accomplishment of one task. Then it had been to play a game; now it was
+to fight. But it was much the same, after all; it was all in the
+man-game.
+
+A feeling of content was the only emotion that Toppy was conscious of in
+the long minutes during which he waited for Campbell to return. The
+drip-drip from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees came as music
+to his ears. The Snow-Burner and he were going to fight; in that
+knowledge there was relief after the weeks of tension.
+
+Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside, and Campbell’s broad
+shoulders filled the doorway. Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a
+shoe-lace.
+
+“It’s all set,” said Campbell rapidly. “He says send you to him at once.
+You’re in luck. He’s in the stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is
+only one guard at the gate. I’ll follow and be handy in case he should
+interfere.”
+
+That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without a word. He made his
+way to the stockade gate with a carelessness of manner that belied his
+purpose. He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the gate and
+that the snow already was squashy underfoot. The gate opened and
+admitted him and closed behind him. Then he was walking across the yard
+toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp kitchen at the far end
+of the yard.
+
+Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses, perhaps fifty in all,
+and realised that the sudden thaw had at once enforced a period of
+idleness for some of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the
+greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored; then he was standing
+before Reivers, and Reivers was looking at him as he had looked at Rosky
+the day when he broke the Bohunk’s leg. Toppy looked back, unmoved. For
+a moment the two stood silent, eye measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke
+savagely, enraged at finding a will that braved his own.
+
+“What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?”
+
+“Game?” repeated Toppy innocently.
+
+“Come, come!” Reivers’ brows were drawing down over his eyes, and again
+Toppy for some reason was reminded of a bear. “You don’t suppose I’m as
+innocent as Campbell, do you? You’ve been raising —— in the shop, I
+hear. You’re doing that with an object. You’re trying some game. I don’t
+care what it is; it doesn’t go. There doesn’t anybody try any games in
+this place except myself.”
+
+“How about poker-games?” suggested Toppy quietly.
+
+A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind Reivers snickered
+audibly; for Campbell had told the story of how Toppy had bested the
+boss at poker and the man understood Toppy’s thrust. Reivers’ eyes
+flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant he had his anger under
+control again. He smiled.
+
+“Well, well; so we’re playing the wit, are we—doctor?” he sneered
+softly. “We’re trying to drive that trained mind of ours to be
+brilliant, are we? Well, I wouldn’t, Treplin; the strain on inferior
+machinery may be fatal.” Suddenly his whole face seemed to change,
+convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. “Get over there in that
+corner and dig a slop-sink; you hear me?” Reivers’ voice was a snarl as
+he pointed to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel lay
+waiting. “That’s what you’re going to do, my fine buck, with your nerve
+to dare to come into my camp and think you’re my equal. Dig slop-holes
+for my Dago cook; that’s what you’re going to do!
+
+“Do you hear? You’re going to be the lowest scavenger in this gang of
+scum. I’m going to break you. I’m going to keep you here until I’m
+through with you. I’m going to send you out of here so low down that a
+saloon scrub-out would kick you on general principles. That’s what’s
+going to happen to you! I’m going to play with you. I’m going to show
+you how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in my own camp.
+Get over there now—right over there where the whole camp can see you,
+and dig a hole for the Dago to throw his slops!”
+
+Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner’s face as the
+words shot from his iron-like lips without retreating, but Toppy stood
+still. He began to smile.
+
+“Pardon, Reivers,” he said softly, “I never thought of myself as your
+equal.”
+
+“Don’t whine now; it’s too late! Go——”
+
+“Because I know I’m a better man than you ever could be.”
+
+It grew very still with great suddenness there in the corner of the big
+yard. The men within hearing held their breaths. The drip-drip from the
+eaves sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the wolf-craft
+creeping to its own far back in Reivers’ eyes, and without moving he
+stood tensed for sudden, flash-like action.
+
+“So that’s it?” said Reivers, smiling; and then he struck with
+serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that blow Toppy knew how desperate
+would be the battle; for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he
+had time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to save himself
+from certain knockout, while the iron-like fist tore the skin off his
+cheek as it shot past.
+
+Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. He stood upright and
+ready. He was a little surprised that his man did not go down. Toppy,
+recovering like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they
+faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls they hurled themselves
+breast to breast and the fight was on.
+
+Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that
+had flared in Reivers’ eyes. It wasn’t science; it wasn’t sense. It was
+the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him,
+to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers
+and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force
+suddenly meeting.
+
+Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at guarding. Toe to toe
+they stood, head to head, and drove their fists against one another’s
+iron-strong bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants like
+themselves could have withstood for a moment. It was madness, it was
+murder, and the group of men who were watching held their breaths and
+waited for one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked out of
+him by those pile-driver blows.
+
+Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the pair leaped apart,
+rushed together again, gripped into a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion
+with futile heaving and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed
+each other with vicious punches—a kaleidoscope of springing legs,
+rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms.
+
+It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from the heart of the men
+who witnessed and dragged them forth to form a ring around the two
+fighters. It was a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound
+came from the ring that expanded and closed as the battle raged here and
+there. The men were at first too shocked to cry out at the sight of any
+one daring to give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had worn
+away they were too wary to give a sign that might bring the guards.
+Silently and tight-lipped the ring formed; and each pair of eyes that
+watched shot nothing but hatred for Reivers.
+
+Toppy was the first to recover from the initial frensied impulse to
+strive to annihilate in one rush his hated enemy. He shook his head as
+he was wont to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his
+fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he had held his own, but
+only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked Reivers slightly in body and was a
+trifle quicker on his feet, but Reivers’ blows were enough heavier than
+his to even up this advantage.
+
+He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman’s neck under the ear,
+and the neck had not yielded any more than a column of wood. He had felt
+Reivers’ fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it seemed that he had
+been struck by a handful of iron. When they had strained breast against
+breast in the first clash the fact that they were of equal strength had
+been apparent to both. Equally matched, and both equally determined to
+win, Toppy knew that the fight would be long; and he began to circle
+scientifically, striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving
+himself while he watched for a slip or an opening that might offer an
+advantage.
+
+Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second paused, deceived by
+Toppy’s tactics. Like a bullet to the mark Toppy’s right shot home on
+the exposed chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was up
+like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the mouth and rushing him
+around and around in fury at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy’s
+expression told how he appreciated the significance of this incident. He
+had put all his force, from toes to knuckles, into that blow; and
+Reivers had merely been staggered. Again Toppy began circling,
+deliberately saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to him
+seemed uphill.
+
+The ring of watchers around the pair grew more close, more eager. All of
+the men present in the bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As
+Toppy circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys and most of
+the gang that had worked under him in the quarry; and by the looks in
+their eyes he knew that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In
+the next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers, swiftly
+feinting with his left, drove home the right against Toppy’s jaw and
+knocked him to his haunches. But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as
+he closed in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing to the
+eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped the tight lips around
+the ring. The blood was spurting from a clean cut in Reivers’ brow and a
+few men called—
+
+“First blood!”
+
+Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after Reivers’ blow. The
+feel of the blood running down his face turned Reivers to a fury. He
+rushed with an impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists
+playing a tattoo on Toppy’s head and body. Like a tiger Toppy fought
+back; but Reivers’ rage for the moment had given him added strength. He
+fought as a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed and
+struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and rushed and struck
+again.
+
+Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the crowd as they saw him
+stagger from a blow on the jaw and saw Reivers set himself for one last
+desperate effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon, his left
+ripping up for the body, his right looping overhand in a killing swing
+at the head; and then the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior
+quickness of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past dealt him a
+left in the mouth that flung him half around and sent him staggering
+against the outheld hands of the crowd.
+
+When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding from the mouth also, and
+in his eyes was a look of caution that Toppy had never seen there
+before.
+
+The fight now became as dogged as it was furious. Each man had tried to
+end it with a single and, failing, knew that he must wear his opponent
+down. Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows struck and neither
+was in the least tired. The thud of blow followed blow. Back and forth
+the pair shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of punches,
+then his antagonist suddenly turning the tables.
+
+Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight, saved himself more
+than Reivers. The latter, who felt himself the master, became more and
+more enraged as Toppy continued to stand up before him and give him back
+as good as he gave. Each time that Toppy reached face or body with a
+solid blow the savage fury flared in Reivers’ eyes, and he lunged
+forward like a maddened bull. Always, however, he recovered himself and
+resumed the fight with brains as well as brawn.
+
+Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm. He realised that
+they were so evenly matched that the loser would lose by a slip of the
+mind by letting some weak spot in his character master him; and he held
+himself in with an iron will. Reivers’ blows goaded and tempted him to
+rush in madly, but he held back. The men about the ring thought he was
+losing, and their voices rose in growled encouragement.
+
+Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become more and more furious his
+hopes began to rise. At each opportunity he reached Reivers’ face,
+cutting open his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging
+him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down several times in the
+rushes that invariably followed such blows, but each time he recovered
+himself before Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his
+fighting-instinct telegraphed him that Reivers was about to try
+something new. He drew back a little, Reivers following closely.
+Suddenly it came. Without warning Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in
+the groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry of rage went up
+from the watching men. But Toppy sprung erect in an instant.
+
+“All right!” he called. “It didn’t hurt me. Shut up, you fools.”
+
+Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned the kick and saved
+him from being disabled.
+
+“What’s the matter, Reivers?” he taunted as he circled carefully.
+“Losing confidence in your fists? Got to use your feet, eh? Lost your
+kick, too, haven’t you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine
+trimming!”
+
+Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the shin-bone; but Toppy
+avoided it easily and danced back with a laugh.
+
+“Can’t even land it any more!” Treplin chuckled. “Show us some more
+tricks, Reivers!”
+
+Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought with lowered head,
+and Toppy once more, as he saw the eyes watching him through the thick
+brows, thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers’ character
+was coming to the top. It was mastering, choking down his intelligence.
+He struck and kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a
+steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on Toppy’s thigh with a
+thud.
+
+“Here, bahass!” screamed a voice to Toppy, and from somewhere in the
+crowd an ax was pitched at his feet.
+
+Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, and, though in deep pain
+from the last kick, continued fighting as if nothing had happened.
+
+The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and been caught by the sight
+of the flashing steel. A gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of
+his ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with one terrible
+stroke—that was his single passion. The axe opened the way.
+
+Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little by little he drove
+Toppy back. Closer and closer he came to the spot where the axe lay on
+the ground. Once more Toppy’s instinct warned him that Reivers was after
+a terrible coup, and once more his whole mind and body responded with
+extra vigilance.
+
+As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his feet and understood.
+He saw that Reivers was systematically working toward the weapon, though
+apparently unconscious of its existence.
+
+It was in Toppy’s mind to dance away, to call out to the men to remove
+the axe; but before he could do so something had whispered to him to
+hold his tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back at every
+inch.
+
+Now he had stepped beyond the axe.
+
+Now it lay between him and Reivers.
+
+Now it lay beneath Reivers’ feet, and now, as Reivers stooped to pick it
+up, Toppy, like a tiger, flung himself forward. It was what he had
+foreseen, what had made him hold his tongue.
+
+The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly
+reasoning brain in Toppy’s head had foreseen that in that lay his
+advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers
+paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward
+at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with
+his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his
+left ear exposed.
+
+Toppy’s fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound
+of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and
+lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach.
+Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul
+curses on his lips.
+
+Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. His left lifted
+Reivers from his feet. Even while he was in the air, Toppy’s right
+followed on the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, drawing a long
+breath, called into play all the strength he had been saving. He struck
+and struck again so rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow
+found its mark; and each was of deadly power.
+
+He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he willed. He beat him till
+he saw Reivers’ eyes grow glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost
+superhuman strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet until now in
+spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now he swayed back and forth once.
+His breath came in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly;
+and as a great tree falls—slowly at first, then with a sudden crash—the
+Snow-Burner toppled and fell face downward on the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX—TOPPY’S WAY
+
+
+Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished foe. The convulsive rise
+and fall of his breast as he panted for breath told how desperately and
+savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious and looked down upon
+the man he had conquered, the chivalry innate in him began to stir with
+respect and even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked at
+Reivers’ bloody face as, the head turned on one side, it lay nuzzled
+helplessly against the soft ground. A wave of revulsion, the aftermath
+of his fury, passed over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his
+eyes as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists had
+wrought.
+
+And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not foreseen it, never had
+dreamed it possible. But now the men who had watched cried aloud their
+hatred of the big man who lay before them. The king-man, their master,
+was down! Upright, they would have quailed before his mere look. But now
+he was down! The man who had mastered them, broken them, tortured them,
+lay helpless there before them. The courage and hate of slaves suddenly
+in power over their master flamed through them. This was their chance;
+they had him now.
+
+“We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!” they roared, and threw
+themselves like a pack of wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they
+rushed Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness; then he went
+down under a shower of heavily booted feet.
+
+With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself forward. He knew quite well
+that this was what Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the
+men some time would have the opportunity for such revenge. But now he
+discovered that he couldn’t stand by and see it done. It wasn’t in him.
+Reivers was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was helpless.
+Toppy’s rage suddenly swerved from Reivers to the men who were trying to
+kick the life out of him.
+
+“Back! Get back there, I say!” he ordered.
+
+He reached in and threw men right and left. He knocked others down. One
+he picked up and used as a battering-ram, and so he fought his way in
+and cleared the rabble away from Reivers. Reivers with more than human
+tenaciousness had retained a glimmer of consciousness. He saw Toppy
+standing astride of him fighting for his life. And in that beaten,
+desperate moment Reivers laughed once more.
+
+“You’re a —— fool, Treplin,” said he. “You’d better let them finish the
+job.”
+
+Toppy dragged him to his feet. A gleam of mastery flashed over the
+Snow-Burner as he felt himself standing upright. He swung to face the
+men.
+
+“Out of the way there, you scum!” he ordered, in his old manner. The men
+laughed in reply. The spell had been broken. The men had seen the
+Snow-Burner knocked down and beaten. They had seen that Toppy was his
+master. They had kicked him; they had had him under them. No longer did
+he stand apart and above them. They cursed him and swarmed in, striking,
+kicking, hauling, and dragged him to the ground.
+
+“Give him to us, bahss!” they cried. “Let us kill him, bahss!”
+
+Some of them hung back. They did not wish to run contrary to the wishes
+of Toppy, their “bahss” and champion. Toppy once more got Reivers on his
+feet and dragged him toward the gate. A knife or two gleamed in the
+crowd.
+
+“Run for the gate!” cried Toppy. Reivers tottered a few steps and fell.
+Over him Toppy stormed, fought, commanded, but the mob pressed
+constantly closer. Then, suddenly, they stopped striking. They began to
+break. Toppy, looking around for the reason, saw Campbell and a guard
+running toward them—Campbell with his big revolver, the guard with his
+gun at a ready. With a last tremendous effort he picked Reivers up in
+his arms and ran to meet them. He heard the guard fire once, heard
+Campbell ordering the men to stand back; then he staggered out of the
+stockade and dropped his heavy burden on the ground. Behind him Campbell
+and the guard slammed shut the gate, and within the cries and curses of
+the men rose in one awful wail, the cry of a blood-mob cheated of its
+prey.
+
+Reivers rose slowly, first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He
+looked at Toppy, and the only expression upon his face was a sneer.
+
+“You —— fool!” he laughed. “You poor weak sister! You’ll be sorry before
+morning that you didn’t let the men finish that job!”
+
+He turned, and without another word went staggering away to the building
+where he and the guards lived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI—THE END OF THE BOSS
+
+
+Back in the shop Campbell went to work with a will to doctor up Toppy’s
+battered face.
+
+“I dunno, lad, I dunno,” he muttered as he patched up the ragged cuts.
+“It was the poetry of justice that the men should have had him, but I
+dunno that I could ha’ left him lie there myself.”
+
+“Of course you couldn’t,” said Toppy. “A man can’t do that sort of
+thing. But, say, Campbell, what do you suppose he meant about being
+sorry before morning because I saved him?”
+
+Although he had won in the contest which he had so longed for, although
+he had proved and knew that he was a better man than Reivers, Toppy for
+some reason experienced none of the elation which he had expected. The
+thing wasn’t settled. Reivers was still fighting. He was still boss of
+Hell Camp. He was fighting with craft now. What had that final threat
+meant?
+
+“It has to do with the lass; I’ll wager on that,” said Campbell. “He
+will aye be taking his revenge on her. I know the man; he has that way.”
+
+“The dog!”
+
+“Aye.—Hold still wi’ that ear now.—Aye; it’s the way of the man, as I
+know him. But I’m thinking some one else will play dog, too. Watchdog, I
+mean. And I’m thinking the same will be mysel’.”
+
+“You don’t think he’ll try——”
+
+“The Snow-Burner will try anything if his mind’s set. Even force.—Hold
+still wi’ your chin.—You licked him fair, lad. ’Twas a great fight.
+You’re best man. But I’m glad I have my shooting-utensil handy, for if
+I’m any judge Hell Camp will aye deserve its name to-night.”
+
+“What do you think will happen?”
+
+“’Tis hard to say. But ’tis sure Reivers means to do something
+desperate, and as I know the man ’tis something that concerns the lass.
+Then there are the men. They have tasted blood. They have seen the
+Snow-Burner beaten. His grip has been torn off them. They’re no longer
+afraid. When the working gangs come in this noon and hear the story
+there’ll be nothing can hold them from doing what they please. You know
+what that will be. They’re wild to break loose. Gi’n they lay hands on
+Reivers they’ll tear him and the camp to pieces. Aye, there’ll be things
+stirring here before evening, or I’m a dolt.”
+
+True to Campbell’s prediction, the stockade shook with cheers, roars and
+curses that noon when the working men came in and heard the tale of the
+Snow-Burner’s downfall. The discipline of the camp vanished with those
+shouts. The men were no longer cowed. They were free and unafraid. After
+they had eaten, the straw-bosses and guards prepared to lead them back
+to their work.
+
+The men laughed. The bosses joined them. The guards threatened. The men
+jeered. Reivers, the only force that had kept them cowed, was lying
+beaten and helpless in his bunk, and not even the shotguns of the guards
+could cow the fierce spirit that had broken loose in the men when they
+heard this news.
+
+“Shoot, —— you, shoot!” they jeered at the guards.
+
+The guards faltered. The whole camp was in revolt and they knew that as
+sure as one shot was fired the men would rush at no matter how great the
+cost to themselves. There were a hundred and fifty maddened, desperate
+men in the camp now, instead of a hundred and fifty cattle; and the
+guards, minus Reivers’ leadership, retreated to their quarters and
+locked the door.
+
+The men did not go back to work. Not an axe, peavey or cant-hook was
+touched; not a team was hitched up. The men swaggered and shouted for
+Reivers to come out and boss them. They begged him to come out. They
+wanted to talk with him. They had a lot to tell him. They wouldn’t hurt
+him—no, they would only give him a little of his own medicine!
+
+However, they gave the guards’ house a wide berth, on account of the
+deadly shotguns. The short afternoon passed quickly and the darkness
+came on.
+
+Toppy and Campbell were sitting down to supper when they noticed that it
+was unusually light in the direction of the stockade. Presently there
+was a roaring crackling; then a chorus of cries, demonlike in their
+ferocity. Toppy sprang to the window and staggered back at the sight
+that met his eyes.
+
+“Great Scot, Campbell! Look, look!” he cried. “They’ve fired the camp!”
+
+Together they rushed to the door. From the farther end of the stockade a
+billow of red, pitchy flame was sweeping up into the night, and the roar
+and crackle of the dried pine logs burning was drowned in the cries of
+the men as they cheered the results of their handiwork.
+
+Toppy and Campbell ran toward the stockade gate. The gate had been
+chopped to pieces, but the guards, from the shelter of their building,
+were shooting at the opening and preventing the men from rushing out.
+The flames at the far end of the stockade rose higher and fiercer as
+they began to get their hold on the pitchy wood. The smoke, billowing
+low, came driving back into the faces of Campbell and Toppy.
+
+“They’ve done it up brown now!” swore Campbell. “The wind’s this way.
+The whole camp will go unless yon fire’s checked.”
+
+Over the front of the stockade something flew through the darkness, its
+parabola marked by a string of sparks that spluttered behind it. It fell
+near one side of the guards’ quarters. A second later it exploded with a
+noise and shock that shook the whole camp.
+
+“Dynamite,” said Scotty. “The men have been stealing it and saving it
+for this occasion. Gi’n one of those sticks lands on that building
+there’ll be dead men inside.”
+
+But the men inside evidently had no mind to wait for such a catastrophe.
+They came rushing out in the darkness, slipping quickly out of sight,
+yet firing at the gate as they went. One of them rushed past Toppy in
+the direction of the office. Toppy scarcely noticed him. On second
+thought something about the man’s great size, his broad shoulders, the
+hang of his arms, attracted him. He turned to look; the man had vanished
+in the dark. A vague uneasiness took possession of Toppy. For a moment
+he stood puzzled.
+
+“My ——!” he cried suddenly. “That was Reivers, and he was going to her!”
+
+He started in pursuit. Reivers was pounding on the door of the office
+when Toppy reached him. The door was locked.
+
+“Open up; open up at once!” he ordered. Beyond the door Toppy heard the
+voice of the girl.
+
+“Oh, please, please, Mr. Reivers! I’m afraid!”
+
+Reivers’ tone changed.
+
+“Nothing to be afraid of, Miss Pearson,” he said blandly. “There’s a
+fire in camp. I want to get in to save the books and papers.”
+
+“Is that why you sent Tilly away this morning?” said Toppy quietly,
+coming up behind him.
+
+Reivers turned with a start.
+
+“Hello, Treplin!” he said, recovering himself instantly. “No hard
+feelings, I hope.” His manner was so at ease that Toppy was thrown off
+his guard.
+
+“I won’t make the mistake of fighting with you any more, Treplin,”
+continued Reivers. “Look at the way you’ve spoiled my nose. You ought to
+fix that up for me. Look at it.”
+
+He came closer and pointed with two fingers to his broken nose. Toppy,
+unsuspecting, leaned forward. Before he could move head or arms Reivers’
+two hands had shot out and fastened like two iron claws upon his
+unprotected throat.
+
+“Now, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “Tear me loose or kiss your life
+good-by.”
+
+And Toppy tried to tear him loose—tried with a desperation born of the
+sudden knowledge that his life depended upon it; and failed. The
+Snow-Burner had got his death-hold. His arms were like bars of steel;
+his fingers yielded no more to Toppy’s tugging than claws of moulded
+iron. “Struggle, —— you! Fight, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “That’s right;
+die hard; for, by ——, you’re done now!”
+
+The eyes seemed starting from Toppy’s head. His brains seemed to be
+bursting. He felt a strange emptiness in his chest. Things went red,
+then they began to go black. He made one final futile attempt. He felt
+his legs sinking, felt his whole body sagging, felt that the end had
+come; then heard as if far away the office-door fly open, heard the girl
+crying——
+
+“Stop, Mr. Reivers, or I’ll shoot!”
+
+Then the roar of a shot. He felt the hands loosen on his throat, swayed
+and fell sidewise as the whole world turned black.
+
+He opened his eyes soon and saw by the light of the rising flames that
+Campbell was running toward him. In the doorway of the office stood the
+girl, her left hand over her eyes, Campbell’s big black revolver in her
+right. Down the road, with strange, drunken steps, Reivers was running
+toward the river. Behind him ran half a dozen men armed with axes
+screaming his name in rage, but Reivers, despite his queer gait, was
+distancing his pursuers. It was some time before Toppy grasped the
+significance of these sights. Then he remembered.
+
+“You—you saved me,” he said clumsily, rising to his feet. The girl
+dropped the revolver and burst into a fit of sobbing.
+
+“’Twas aye handy I thought of giving her the gun and telling her to keep
+the door locked,” said Campbell. “Do you go in, lassie. All’s well. Go
+in.”
+
+“Eh? What’s this?” he cried, for in spite of her sobbing she drew
+sharply away from his sheltering arm as he tried to usher her indoors.
+
+The smoke from the fire swept down into their faces in a choking cloud.
+Toppy looked toward the stockade. By this time the whole end of the
+great building was in flames. The men in pursuit of Reivers were howling
+as they gained on their quarry, and Toppy lurched after them.
+
+“Bob! Mr. Treplin!”
+
+Toppy stopped.
+
+“I mean—Mr. Treplin—you—don’t go down there—you’re hurt—please!”
+
+Toppy moved toward her. Was it true? Was it really there the note in her
+voice that he yearned to hear?
+
+“What did you say—please?” he stammered.
+
+And now it was her turn to be confused. The sobs came back to her. Toppy
+took a long breath and nerved himself to desperation.
+
+“Helen!” he said hoarsely.
+
+“Bob! Oh, Bob!” she whispered. “Don’t leave me—don’t leave me alone.”
+
+Once more Toppy filled his lungs with air and ground his teeth in
+desperate resolution. He tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came
+from his throat; so he held out his big arms in mute appeal, and
+suddenly he found himself whispering incoherently at a little blonde
+head which lay snuggled in great content against his bosom.
+
+A maddened yell came from the men who were after Reivers. But Toppy and
+the girl might have been a thousand miles away for all the attention
+they paid. One end of the stockade fell in with a great roar and a
+shower of flame and sparks; but the twain did not hear.
+
+“Aye, aye!” Old Campbell moved swiftly away. “He’s a grown man now, and
+so he’s a right to have his woman.—Aye. A real man he had to be to take
+her away from the Snow-Burner.”
+
+Down by the river the pursuing men gave tongue to a cry with the note of
+the wolf in it.
+
+Campbell turned from the young couple and stared with gleaming eyes in
+the direction whence came the cry.
+
+“Ah, Reivers!” he murmured. “Ye great man gone wrong! How goes it with
+ye now, Reivers? Can ye win through? Can ye? I wonder—I wonder!”
+
+And as Toppy and Helen, holding closely to one another, entered the
+office building, the old man hastened to join the throng by the river
+where the fate of the Snow-Burner was being spun.
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPERMAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII—THE CHEATING OF THE RIVER
+
+
+“It’s got him! The river’s got him. He’s drowned! ‘Hell-Camp’
+Reivers—he’s gone. He’s done for. The ‘Snow-Burner’ is dead, dead dead!”
+
+Like wolves in revolt the men of “Hell Camp” lined the bank of the
+rushing, ice-choked river and cursed and roared into the blackness of
+the night. Behind them the buildings of the camp, scene of the
+Snow-Burner’s inhuman brutality and dominance over the lives of men,
+were going up in seas of flame which they had started.
+
+Before them the tumultuous river, the waters battling the ice which
+strove to cover it, tossed black and white under the red glow of
+tumbling fire. And somewhere out in the murderous current, whirled and
+sucked down by the rushing water, buffeted and crushed by the grinding
+ice, a bullet-hole through his shoulder, was all that was left of the
+man whose life they had cried for.
+
+The river had cheated them. Like panting wolves, their hands
+outstretched claw-like to clutch and kill, they had pursued him closely
+to the river’s edge. A cry of rage, short, sharp, unreasoning, had
+leaped from their throats as Reivers, staggering from his wound, had
+leaped unhesitatingly out on to the heaving cakes of ice.
+
+Spellbound, open-mouthed and silent, they had stood and watched as their
+erstwhile oppressor ran zigzagging, leaping from cake to cake, out
+toward the black slip of open water which ran silently, swiftly in the
+river’s middle. And then they had cried out again.
+
+For the open water had caught him. Straight into it, without pausing or
+swerving, Reivers had run on. And the black water had taken him home.
+Like a stone dropped into its midst, it had taken him plump—a flirt of
+spray, a gurgle. Then the waters rushed on as before, silent, deadly,
+unconcerned.
+
+And so the men of Hell Camp, drunk with the spirit and success of their
+revolt, cried out in triumph. Their cry rose over the roar of flame. It
+rang above the rumble of crunching ice. It reached, pæan-like, up
+through the star-filled northern night—a cry of victory, of
+gratification, the old, terrible cry of the kill.
+
+For the Snow-Burner was gone. Wolf-like he had harried them and
+wolf-like he had died. No man, not even Hell-Camp Reivers, they knew,
+could live a minute in that black water. They had seen the waters close
+above him; a floe of ice swept serenely over the spot where he had gone
+down. He was gone. The world was rid of him.
+
+And so the men of Cameron-Dam Camp, while their cry still echoed in the
+timber, turned to carry the news of the Snow-Burner’s end back to the
+men who were milling about the burning camp. The Snow-Burner was dead!
+
+Out in the deadly river, Hell-Camp Reivers stayed under water until he
+knew that the men on the bank counted him drowned. He had sought the
+open water deliberately, his giant lungs filling themselves with air as
+he plunged down to the superhuman test which was to spell life or death
+for him.
+
+He realised that if he were to live he must appear to perish in the
+river, before the eyes of the men who pursued him. To have won through
+the open water, and over the ice beyond, and in their sight have reached
+the farther shore would have sealed his doom as surely as to have
+returned to the bank where stood the men.
+
+The camp had revolted. Two hundred men had said that he must die; and
+had he been seen to cross the river and enter the timber beyond, half of
+the two hundred, properly armed, would have crossed the stringers of the
+dam, not to pause or rest until they had hunted him down. He was without
+weapons of any kind save his bare fists. He was bleeding heavily from
+the bullet-hole in his right shoulder. He would have died like a wounded
+wolf run to earth had he been seen to cross the river safely. His only
+chance for life was to appear to die in the river.
+
+He made no fight as he went down. The swift waters sucked him under like
+a straw. They rolled him over the rocky bottom, whirled him around and
+around sunken piles of ice. Into the sluice-like current of the stream’s
+middle they spewed him, and the current caught him and shot him into the
+darkness below the glare of the burning camp.
+
+He lay inert in the water’s grasp, recking not how the sharp ice gashed
+and tore face and hands, how the rocks crushed and bruised his body. A
+sweeping ice-floe caught him and held him down. Like some great
+river-beast he lay supine beneath it, conserving every atom of his
+giant’s strength for the test that was to win him life.
+
+Then, with the blood roaring in his temples, and his bursting lungs
+warning him that the next second must yield him air or death, he threw
+his body upward against the ice, felt it slip to one side, thrust his
+upturned face out of the water, caught a finger-hold on another floe
+that strove to thrust him down, gasped, clawed and—laughed.
+
+He was a dead man, and he lived. Men had driven him into the jaws of
+death, and death had engulfed and apparently swallowed him. Men counted
+him now as one who had gone hence. Far and wide the word would be flung
+in a hurry: the Snow-Burner was no more; Hell-Camp Reivers had passed
+away.
+
+The face of the Snow-Burner as it rode barely above the icy, lapping
+waters, bore but one single expression, a sardonic appreciation of the
+joke he had played upon men and Death. The loss of Cameron Camp, of his
+position, of all that he called his own did not trouble him.
+
+As the current swept him down there, he was a beaten man, stripped of
+all the things that men struggle for to have and to hold, and with but a
+slippery finger-hold on life itself. Yet he was victorious, triumphant.
+
+He had placed himself within the clammy fingers of the River Death. The
+fingers had closed upon him, and he had torn them apart, had thrust
+death away, had clutched life as it fleeted from him and had drawn it
+back to hold for the time being. And Reivers laughed contemptuously,
+tauntingly, at the sucking waters cheated of their prey.
+
+“Not yet, Nick, old boy,” he muttered. “It doesn’t please me to boss
+your stokers just yet.”
+
+The current tore the ice from his precarious grip and he was forced to
+swim for it. In the darkness he struck the grinding icefield on the far
+side of the open water, and like the claws of a bear his stiffening
+fingers sought for and found a crevice to afford a secure hold.
+
+A pull, a heave and a wriggle, and he lay face-down on the jagged
+ice—heart, lungs and brain crying for the cold air which he sucked in
+avidly. The ice-cakes parted beneath his weight. Once more he fought
+through the water to a resting place on the ice; once more the
+treacherous ice parted and dropped him into the water.
+
+Swimming, crawling, wriggling his way, he fought on. At last an
+outstretched hand groped to a hold on a snow-covered root on the far
+bank of the river.
+
+“About time,” he said and, slowly drawing himself up onto the bank, he
+rolled over in the snow and lay with his face turned back toward Cameron
+Camp.
+
+The fire which the men had started in the long bunk-house when they had
+revolted against the inhumanity of Reivers now had gained full headway.
+In pitchy, red billows of flame the dried log walls were roaring upward
+into the night. Like the yipping of maddened demons, the bellowing
+shouts of the men came back to him as they danced and leaped around the
+fire in celebration of the passing of Reivers and of the camp for which
+his treatment of men had justly earned the title of Hell-Camp.
+
+But louder and more poignant even than the roar of flame and the shouts
+of jubilant men, there came to Reivers’ ears a sound which prompted him
+to drag himself to an elbow to listen. Somewhere out in the timber near
+the camp a man was crying for mercy. A rifle cracked; the pleading
+stopped. Reivers smiled contemptuously.
+
+“One of the guards; they got him,” he mused. “The fool! That’s what he
+gets for being silly enough to be faithful to me.”
+
+But the fate of the guard, one of the “shot-gun artists” who had served
+him faithfully and brutally in the task of keeping the men of the camp
+helpless under his heel, roused Reivers to the need of quick action. If
+the guards had escaped into the woods and were being hunted down by the
+maddened crew, the hunt might easily lead across the dam and up the bank
+to where he lay. Once let it be known that he had not perished in the
+river, and the whole camp would come swarming across the dam, each man’s
+hand against him, resolved to take his trail and hunt him down, no
+matter where the trail might lead or how long the hunt might take.
+
+The fight through the river ice was but the preliminary to his flight
+for safety. Many miles of cold trail between him and the burning camp
+were his most urgent present needs, and with a curse he staggered to his
+feet and stood for a moment lowering back across the water to the scene
+of his overthrow.
+
+To a lesser man—or a better man—there would have been deep humiliation
+in the situation. Reivers’s mind flashed back over the incidents of the
+last few hours. Over there, across the river, he had been beaten for the
+first time in his life in a fair, stand-up fist fight. He had
+underestimated young Treplin, and Treplin had beaten him.
+
+Following his defeat had come the revolt of the men. Following that had
+come flight. The power and leadership of the camp had been wrested from
+his hands by a better man; he himself had been driven out, helpless,
+beaten, yet Reivers only laughed as he stood now and looked back across
+the river. For in the river the Snow-Burner had died.
+
+The past was dead. A new life was beginning for him. It had to be so,
+for if word went back that the Snow-Burner was still alive the men of
+Cameron-Dam Camp would come clamouring to the hunt. To die, and yet to
+live; to slough one life, as an old coat, and to take up another, not
+having the slightest notion of what it might hold—that was the great
+adventure, that was something so interesting that the humiliation of
+defeat never so much as reached beneath Reivers’ skin.
+
+He stood for a moment, looking back at the camp, and he smiled. He waved
+his left hand in a polished gesture of contemptuous farewell.
+
+“Good-by, Mr. Hell-Camp Reivers,” he growled. “Hello, Mr. New Man,
+whoever you are. Let’s go and lay up till the puncture in your hide
+heals. Then we’ll go out and see what you can do to this silly old
+world.”
+
+With his fingers clutching the hole in his shoulder, he turned and
+lurched drunkenly away into the blackness of the thick timber.
+
+The icy waters of the river had been kind to him in more ways than one.
+They had congealed the warm blood-spurts from his wound into a solid red
+clot, and his thick woolen shirt and mackinaw were frozen stiff and
+tight against the clot.
+
+He held to his staggering run for an hour, seeking bare spots in the
+timber, travelling on top of windfalls when he found them, hiding his
+trail in uncanny fashion, before his body grew warm enough to thaw the
+icy bandages. Then he halted and, by the light of the cold moon, bared
+his shoulder and took stock. It was a bad, ragged wound. He moved the
+shoulder and smiled sardonically as he noted that no bone was touched.
+
+From the butt of a shattered windfall he tore a flat sliver of clean
+pine. With his teeth he worried it down to a proper size, and with
+handkerchief and belt he bound it over the wound so tightly that it sunk
+deep into the muscles of the shoulder. It chafed and cut the skin and
+started the blood in half a dozen places, but he pulled the belt up
+another hole despite the inclination to grimace from pain.
+
+“Suffer, Body,” he muttered, “suffer all you please. You’ve nothing to
+say about this. Your job for the present is merely to serve life by
+keeping it going. Later on you may grow whole again. I shall need you.”
+
+He buttoned his mackinaw with difficulty and, finding an open space,
+turned and took his bearings. Far behind him a dull red glow on the sky
+marked the location of Cameron-Dam Camp. From this he turned, carefully
+scanning the heavens, until above the top of the timber he caught the
+weird glint of the northern lights. That way lay his course.
+
+The white man’s country stopped with the timber in which he stood.
+Beyond was Indian country, the bleak, barren Dead Lands, a wilderness
+too bare of timber to tempt the logger, a land of ridge upon ridge of
+ragged rock, unexplored by white man, save for a rare mining prospector,
+and uninhabited save for the half-starved camp of the people of Tillie,
+the Chippewa, Reivers’ slave, by the power of the love she bore him.
+
+White men shunned the white wastes of the Dead Lands as, in warmer
+climes, they shun the unwatered sands of the desert. That was why
+Reivers sought it. Out there in the camp of Tillie’s people he could lie
+safe, well fed, well nursed, until his wound healed and the strength of
+his body came back to him. And then....
+
+“Cheer up, Body!” he chuckled as he started northward. “We’ll make the
+world pay bitterly for all of this when we’re in shape again. For the
+present we’re going north, going north, going north. You can’t stop,
+Body; you can’t lay down. Groan all you want to. You’re going to be
+dragged just as far to-night as if you weren’t shot up at all.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII—THE GIRL WHO WAS NOT AFRAID
+
+
+Break of day in Winter time comes to the Dead Lands slowly and without
+enthusiasm, as if the rosy morning sun wearied at the hopeless landscape
+which its rays must illumine. Aimless rock formation was a drug on the
+creation’s market the day that the Bad Lands were made. Gigantic
+boulders, box-like bluffs, ragged rock-spires, cliffs and plateaus of
+bare rock were in oversupply.
+
+Nature, so a glimpse of the place suggests, had resolved to get rid of a
+vast surplus of ugly, useless stone, and with one cast of its hands
+flung them solidly down and made the Dead Lands. There they lie,
+hog-back, ridge, gully and ravine, hopelessly and aimlessly jumbled and
+tumbled, a scene of desolate greyness by Summer; by Winter the raw,
+bleak ridges and spires, thrusting themselves through the covering of
+snow like unto the bones of a half concealed skeleton.
+
+Daylight crept wearily over the timber belt and spread itself slowly
+over the barrenness, and struck the highest rise of ground, running
+crosswise through the barrens, which men called “Hog-Back Ridge.” Little
+by little it lighted up the bleak peaks and tops of ridge and
+rock-spire.
+
+A wind came with it, a bleak, morning Winter wind which whined as it
+whipped the dry snow from high places and sent it flying across coulée
+and valley in the grey light of dawn. Nothing stirred with the coming of
+daylight. No nocturnal animal, warned of the day’s coming, slunk away to
+its cave; no beast or bird of daylight greeted the morning with movement
+or song. The grey half-light revealed no living thing of life upon the
+exposed hump of the ridge.
+
+The sun came, a ball of dull red, rising over the timber line. It
+touched the topmost spires of rock, sought to gild them rosily, gave up
+as their sullen sides refused to take the colour, and turned its rays
+along the eastern slope. Then something moved. A single speck of life
+stirred in the vast scene of desolation.
+
+On the bare ground in the lea of a boulder a man sat with his back to
+the stone and slept. His face was hollow and lined. The corners of his
+mouth were drawn down as if a weight were hung on each of them, and the
+thin cheeks, hugging the bones so tightly that the teeth showed through,
+told that the man had driven himself too far on an empty stomach. Yet,
+even in sleep, there was a hint of a sardonic smile on the misshapen
+lips, a smile that condemned and made naught the pain and cruelty of his
+fate.
+
+The sun crept down the slope of Hog-Back Ridge and found him. It reached
+his eyes. Its rays had no more warmth than the rays of the cold Winter
+moon, but its light pierced through the tightly drawn lids. They
+twitched and finally parted. Reivers awoke without yawning or moving and
+looked around.
+
+It was the second morning after his flight from Cameron-Dam Camp, and he
+had yet to reach the Winter camp of the people of Tillie the squaw.
+Somewhere to the west it lay. He would reach it and reach it in good
+time, he swore; but he had not had a bite of food in his mouth for two
+days, and the fever of his wound had sapped heavily his strength.
+
+“Be still, Body,” he growled, as with the return of consciousness his
+belly cried out for food. “You will be fed before life goes out of you.”
+
+He rose slowly and stiffly to his knees and looked down the ridge to
+where the rays of the sun now were illumining the snow-covered bottom of
+the valley below. The valley ran eastward for a mile or two, and at
+first glance it was empty and dead, save for the flurries of wind-swept
+snow, dropping down from the heights above. But Reivers, as he rose to
+his feet, swept the valley with a second glance, and suddenly he dropped
+and crouched down close to the ground.
+
+Far down at the lower end of the valley a black speck showed on the
+frozen snow, and the speck was moving.
+
+Reivers lay on the bare patch of ground, as silent and immovable as the
+rock above him. The speck was too large to be a single animal and too
+small to be a pack of travelling caribou.
+
+For several minutes he lay, scarcely breathing, his eyes straining to
+bring the speck into comprehensible shape. His breath began to come
+rapidly. Presently he swore. The speck had become two specks now, a long
+narrow speck and a tiny one which moved beside it, and they were coming
+steadily up the valley toward where he lay.
+
+“One man and a dog-team,” mused Reivers. “He won’t be travelling here
+without grub. Body, wake up! You are crying for food. Yonder it comes.
+Get ready to take it.”
+
+Slowly, with long pauses between each movement, and taking care not to
+place his dark body against the white snow, Reivers dragged himself
+around to a hiding-place behind the boulder against which he had slept.
+The sun had risen higher now. Its rays were lighting the valley, and as
+he peered avidly around one side of the stone, Reivers could make out
+some detail of the two specks that moved so steadily toward him.
+
+It was a four-dog team, travelling rapidly, and the man, on snow-shoes,
+travelled beside his team and plied his whip as he strode. Reivers’
+brows drew down in puzzled fashion. The sledge which whirled behind the
+running dogs seemed flat and unloaded; the dogs ran in a fashion that
+told they were strong and fresh. Why didn’t the man ride?
+
+Reivers drew back to take stock of the situation. The man might be a
+stranger, travelling hurriedly through the Dead Lands, or he might be
+one of the men from Cameron-Dam Camp. If the former, food might be had
+for a mere hail and the asking; if the latter—Reivers’s nostrils widened
+and he smiled.
+
+Yet a third possibility existed. The man was travelling in strange
+fashion, running beside an apparently empty sled, and whipping his dogs
+along. So did men travel when they were fleeing from various reasons,
+and men fleeing thus do not go unarmed nor take kindly to having the
+trail of their flight witnessed by casual though starving strangers.
+Thus there was one chance that a hail and plea for food would be met
+with a friendly response; two chances that they would be met with lead
+or steel.
+
+Reivers, not being a careless man, looked about for ways and means to
+place the odds in his favour. A hundred yards to the north of him the
+valley narrowed into a mere slit between two straight walls of rock.
+Through this gap the traveller must pass.
+
+When Reivers had crawled to a position on the rock directly above the
+narrow opening, he lay flat down and grinned in peace. He was securely
+hidden, and the dog-driver would pass unsuspectingly, unready, thirty
+feet beneath where he lay. Things were looking well.
+
+The driver and team came on at a steady pace. Even at a great distance,
+his stride betrayed his race and Reivers muttered, “White man,” and
+pushed to the edge of the bluff a huge, jagged piece of rock. The man
+might not listen to reason, and Reivers was taking no chances of
+allowing an opportunity to feed to slip by.
+
+The sleigh still puzzled him. As it came nearer and nearer he saw that
+it was not empty. Something long and flat lay upon it. Reivers ceased to
+watch the driver and turned his scrutiny entirely to the bundle upon the
+sleigh. Minute after minute he watched the sleigh to the exclusion of
+everything else.
+
+He made out eventually that the bundle was the size and form of a human
+body. Soon he saw that it moved now and then, as if struggling to rise.
+
+The sleigh came nearer, came into a space where the sunlight, streaming
+through a gap in the ridge, lighted it up brightly, and Reivers’ whole
+body suddenly stiffened upon the ground and his teeth snapped shut
+barely in time to cut short an ejaculation of surprise.
+
+The bundle on the sleigh was a woman—a white woman! And she was bound
+around from ankle to forehead with thongs passed under the sleigh.
+
+“Food—and a woman—a white woman,” he mused. “The new life becomes
+interesting. Body, get ready.”
+
+He held the rock balanced on the edge of the cliff, ready to hurl it
+down with one supreme effort of his waning strength. Hugging the cliff
+he lay, his head barely raised sufficiently to watch his approaching
+quarry. He could make out the face of the man by this time, a square
+face, mostly covered with hair, with the square-cut hair of the head
+hanging down below the ears. Two fang-like teeth glistened in the
+sunlight when the man opened his mouth to curse at the dogs, and he
+turned at times to leer back at the helpless burden on the sleigh.
+
+As he approached the narrow defile, where the rock walls hid a man and
+what he might do from the eyes of all but the sky above, the man turned
+to look more frequently, more leeringly at his victim. Reivers saw that
+the woman was gagged as well as bound.
+
+The driver shouted a command at his dogs, and their lope became a walk,
+and even as Reivers, up on the cliff, arched his back to hurl his stone,
+the outfit came to a halt directly beneath where he lay. Reivers waited.
+He had no compunction about disabling or killing the man below; a crying
+belly knows no conscience. But he would wait and see what was to
+develop.
+
+The man swiftly jerked his team back in the traces and turned toward his
+victim. Reivers, turning his eyes from the man to the woman, received a
+shock which caused him to hug closer to the cliff. The woman lay
+helpless on the sleigh, face up. A cloth gag covered her face up to the
+nose, and a cap, drawn down over the forehead, left only the eyes and
+nose visible. And the eyes were wide open—very wide open—and they were
+looking quite calmly and unafraid up at Reivers.
+
+The driver came back and tore the gag from the woman’s lips.
+
+“I’ll give you a chance,” he exploded, and Reivers, up on the cliff,
+caught the passion-choked note in voice and again held the stone ready.
+“I’m stealing you for the chief—for Shanty Moir, the man who’s got your
+father’s mine, and who’s determined to put shame on you, Red MacGregor’s
+daughter. I’m taking you there to him—in his camp. You know what that
+means.
+
+“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I—I’ll give you a chance. I’ll save you.
+Come with me. I won’t take you up there. We’ll go out of the country.
+You know what it’d mean to go up there. Well,—I’ll marry you.”
+
+Many things happened in the next few seconds. The man threw himself like
+a wild beast beside the sledge, caught the woman’s face in his hands and
+kissed her bestially upon the helpless lips.
+
+The girl did not struggle or cry out. Only her wide eyes looked up to
+the top of the cliff, looked questioningly, speculatively, calmly. He of
+the hairy face caught the direction of her look and sprang up and
+whirled around, the glove flying from his right hand, and a six-shooter
+leaping into it apparently from nowhere.
+
+His face was upturned, and he fired even as the big rock smote him on
+the forehead and crushed him shapelessly into the snow. Reivers dragged
+forward another stone and waited, but the man was too obviously dead to
+render caution necessary.
+
+“He was experienced and quick,” said Reivers to the woman, “but I was
+too hungry to miss him. Did you think I did it to save you? Oh, no! Just
+a minute, till I get down; you’ll know me better.”
+
+He staggered and fell as he rose to pick his way down, for the cast with
+the heavy stone had tapped the last reservoirs of his depleted strength,
+had wrenched open the wounded shoulder and started the blood. Painfully
+he dragged himself on hands and knees to a snow-covered slope, and
+slipping and sliding made his way to the valley-bottom and came
+staggering up to the sledge. The woman to him for the time being did not
+exist.
+
+“Steady, Body,” he muttered, as he tore open the grub-bag on the sleigh.
+“Here’s food.”
+
+His fingers fell first on a huge chunk of cooked venison, and he looked
+no farther. Down in the snow at the side of the helpless woman he
+squatted and proceeded to eat. Only when the pang in his stomach had
+been appeased did he look at the woman. Then, for a time, he forgot
+about eating.
+
+It was not a woman but a girl. Her face was fair and her hair golden
+red. Her big eyes were looking at him appraisingly. There was no fear in
+them, no apprehension. She noted the hollowness of his cheeks, the fever
+in his eyes. Reivers almost dropped his meat in amazement. The girl
+actually was pitying him!
+
+He stood up, thrust the meat back into the grub-bag and stood swaying
+and towering over her. The girl’s eyes looked back unwaveringly.
+
+“—— you!” growled Reivers as he bent down and loosed the thongs. “What
+do you mean? Why aren’t you afraid?”
+
+“MacGregor Roy was my father,” she said quietly. “I am not afraid.” She
+sat up as the bonds fell from her and looked at the still figure in the
+snow. “He is dead, I suppose?”
+
+“As dead as he tried to make me,” sneered Reivers.
+
+A look of annoyance crossed her face.
+
+“Then you have spoiled it all,” she broke out, leaping from the sledge.
+“Spoiled the fine chance I had to find the cave of Shanty Moir, murderer
+of my father.”
+
+Reivers’ jaw dropped in amazement, and hot anger surged to his tongue.
+Many women of many kinds he had looked in the eyes and this was the
+first one—
+
+“Spoiled it, you red-haired trull! What do you mean? Didn’t I save you
+from our bearded friend yonder. Or—” his thin lips curled into their old
+contemptuous smile—“or perhaps—perhaps you are one of those to whom such
+attentions are not distasteful.”
+
+The sudden flare and flash of her anger breaking, like lightning out of
+a Winter’s sky, checked his words. The contempt of his smile gave place
+to a grin of admiration. Tottering and wavering on his feet, he did not
+stir or raise his arms, though the thin-bladed knife which seemed to
+spring into her hands as claws protrude from a maddened cat’s paws,
+slipped through his mackinaw and pricked the skin above his heart,
+before her hand stopped.
+
+“‘Trull’ am I? The daughter of MacGregor Roy is a helpless squaw who
+takes kindly to such words from any man on the trail? Blood o’ my
+father! Pray, you cowardly skulker! Pray!”
+
+His grin grew broader.
+
+“Pretty, very pretty!” he drawled. “But you can’t make it good, can you?
+You thought you could. Your little flare of temper made you feel big.
+You were sure you were going to stick me. But you couldn’t do it. You’re
+a woman. See; your flash of bigness is dying out. You’re growing tame.
+That’s one of my specialties—taming spitfires like you. Oh, you needn’t
+draw back. Have no fear. I never did have any taste for red hair.”
+
+A painter would have raved about the daughter of MacGregor Roy as she
+now stood back, facing her tormentor. The fair skin of her face was
+flushed red, the thin sharp lines of mouth and nostril were tremulous
+with rage, and her wide, grey eyes burned. Her head was thrown back in
+scorn, her cap was off; the glorious red-golden hair of her head seemed
+alive with fury. With one foot advanced, the knife held behind her, her
+breath coming in angry gasps, she stood, a figure passionately, terribly
+alive in the dead waste of the snows.
+
+“Oh, what a coward you are!” she panted. “You knew I couldn’t avenge
+myself on a sick man. You coward!”
+
+Reivers laughed drunkenly. The fever was blurring his sight, dulling his
+brain and filling him with an irresistible desire to lie down.
+
+“Yes, I knew it,” he mumbled. “I saw it in your eye. You couldn’t do
+it—because I didn’t want you to. I want you—I want you to fix me up—hole
+in the shoulder—fever—understand?”
+
+“I understand that when Duncan Roy, my father’s brother, catches up with
+us he will save me the trouble by putting a hole through your head.”
+
+“Plenty of time for that later on.” Reivers fought off the stupor and
+held his senses clear for a moment. “Have you got my whisky?”
+
+“And what if I have?”
+
+“Answer me!” he said icily. “Have you?”
+
+“Duncan Roy has whisky,” she replied reluctantly. “He will be on our
+trail now.”
+
+“How long—how long before he’ll get here?”
+
+“Yon beast—” she nodded her head toward the still figure in the
+snow—“raided our camp, struck me down and stole me away with my team two
+hours before sundown, yestere’en. Duncan Roy was out meat-hunting, and
+would be back by dark. He’ll be two hours behind us, and his dogs travel
+even with these.”
+
+“Two hours? Too long,” groaned Reivers and pitched headlong into the
+snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV—THE WOMAN’S WAY
+
+
+When he came to, it was from the bite and sting of the terrible white
+whisky of the North, being poured down his throat by a rude, generous
+hand.
+
+“Aye; he’s no’ dead,” rumbled a voice like unto a bear’s growl. “He
+lappit the liquor though his eye’s closed. Hoot, man! Ye take it in like
+mother’s milk.”
+
+“Have done, Uncle Duncan,” warned another voice—the bold, free voice of
+the girl, Reivers in his semi-consciousness made out. “’Tis a sick man.
+Don’t give him the whole bottle.”
+
+“Let be, let be,” grumbled the big voice, but nevertheless Reivers felt
+the bottle withdrawn from his lips. “’Tis no tender child that a good
+drink of liquor would hurt that we have here. Do you not note that mouth
+and jaw? I’m little more pleased with the look of him than with yon
+thing in the snow.”
+
+“’Tis a sick, helpless being,” said the girl.
+
+The big voice rumbled forth an oath.
+
+“And what have we—you and I—to do with sick, helpless beings? Are we not
+on the trail to find Shanty Moir, who is working your father’s mine,
+wherever it is, and there take vengeance on said Shanty for your
+father’s murder, as well as recover your own property? Is this a trail
+on which ’tis fit and well we halted to nurse and care for sick,
+helpless beings? Blood of the de’il! An unlucky mess! What business has
+man to be sick and ailing on the Winter trail here in the North? ’Tis
+the law of Nature that such die!”
+
+“And do you think that law will be followed here?” demanded the girl.
+
+“Were I alone, it would,” retorted the man. “Our task is to find the
+place of Shanty Moir and do him justice.”
+
+“And the hospitality of the MacGregors? Is it like Duncan Roy to see
+beast or man needing or wanting help without stretching his hand to help
+it?”
+
+The man was silent.
+
+“Do you think any good could come to you or me if we turned our hearts
+to stones and let a sick man perish after he had fallen helpless on our
+hands?”
+
+“I tell you what I think, Hattie MacGregor,” broke out the big voice. “I
+think there is trouble travelling as trail-fellow with this man. I see
+trouble in the cut of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. There is a
+fate written there; he’s a fated man and no else, and nothing would
+please me better than to have him a thousand days mushing away from me
+and never to see him again. Trouble and trouble! It’s written on him
+plain.
+
+“Who is he? Whence came he? Why is he alone, dogless, foodless,
+weaponless, here in these Dead Lands! ’Tis uncanny. Blood o’ the de’il!
+He might be dropped down from somewhere, or more like shot up from
+somewhere—from the black pit, for instance. It’s no’ proper for mere
+human being to be found in his condition out this far on the barrens,
+with no sign of how he came or why?”
+
+“Have no fear, Uncle Duncan,” laughed the girl. “He’s only a common
+man.”
+
+Reivers opened his eyes, chuckling feverishly.
+
+“You’ll pay for that ‘common,’ you spitfire, when I’ve tamed you,” he
+mumbled.
+
+“Only a common man, Uncle Duncan,” repeated the girl steadfastly, “and
+I’ve a bone to pick with him when he’s on his feet, no longer helpless
+and pitiable as he is now.”
+
+Again Reivers laughed through the haze of fever. He did not have the
+strength to hold his eyes open, but his mind worked on.
+
+“Helpless! Did you notice the incident of the rock?” he babbled. “Bare,
+primitive, two-handed man against a man with a gun. Who won?”
+
+“Aye,” said the man seriously, “we owe you thanks for that. For a
+helpless man, you deal stout knocks.”
+
+“And speak big words,” snapped the girl. “Now, around with the teams,
+Uncle Duncan, and back to camp. There’s been talk enough. We must take
+him in and shelter and care for him, since he has fallen helpless and
+pitiable on our hands. We owe him no thanks. Can you not lay his head
+easier—the boasting fool! There; that’s better. Now, all that the dogs
+can stand, Uncle, for I misdoubt we’ll be hard-pressed to keep the life
+in him till we get him back to camp.”
+
+Reivers heard and strove to reply. But the paralysis of fever and
+weakness was upon him, and all that came from his lips was an incoherent
+babbling. In the last vapoury stages of consciousness he realised that
+he was being placed more comfortably upon the sledge, that his head was
+being lifted and that blankets were being strapped about him.
+
+He felt the sledge being turned, heard the runners grate on the snow;
+then ensued an easy, sliding movement through space, as the rested dogs
+started their lope back through the valley. The movement soothed him. It
+lulled him to a sensation of safety and comfort.
+
+The phantasmagoria of fever pounded at his brain, his eyes and ears, but
+the steady, swishing rush of the sleigh drove them away. He slept, and
+awoke when a halt was called and more whisky forced down his throat.
+Then he slept again.
+
+There were several halts. Once he realised that he was being fed thin
+soup, made from cooked venison and snow-water. That was the last
+impression made on remaining consciousness. After that the thread
+snapped.
+
+The sledges went on. They left the valley. Through the jumbled ridges of
+the Dead Lands they hurried. They reached a stretch of stunted fir, and
+still they continued to go. At length they pulled up before a solid
+little cabin built in a cleft of rocks.
+
+The Snow Burner was carried in and put to bed. After a rest Duncan Roy
+and the fresher of the dogteams took the trail again. They came, back
+after a day and a night, bringing with them a certain Père Batiste,
+skilled in treating fevers and wounds of the body as well as of the
+soul. The good curé gasped at the torso which revealed itself to his
+gaze as he stripped off the clothes to work at the wound.
+
+“If le bon Dieu made him as well inside as outside, this is a very good
+man,” he said simply; and Duncan MacGregor smiled grimly.
+
+“God—or the de’il—made him to deal stout knocks, that’s sure,” he
+grunted. “’Tis a rare animal we have stripped before us.”
+
+“A rare human being—a soul,” reproved Father Batiste. “And it is le bon
+Dieu who makes us all.”
+
+“But the de’il gets hold of some very young,” insisted the Scotchman.
+
+Father Batiste stayed in the cabin for two days.
+
+“He was not meant to die this time,” he said later. “It will be
+long—weeks perhaps—before he will be strong enough to take the trail. He
+will need care, such care as only a woman can give him. If he does not
+have this care he will die. If he does have it he will live. Adieu, my
+children; you have a sacred, human life in your hands.”
+
+And he got the care that only a woman could give him. For the next two
+weeks Duncan MacGregor watched his niece’s devoted nursing and gnawed
+his red beard gloomily.
+
+“Trouble—trouble—trouble!” he muttered over and over to himself. “It
+rides around the man’s head like a storm-cap. Hattie MacGregor, take
+care. Yon man will be a different creature to handle when he has the
+strength back in his body.”
+
+At the end of a week Reivers awoke as a man wakes after a long,
+fever-breaking slumber, weak and wasted, yet with a grateful sense of
+comfort and well-being. Before he opened his eyes he sensed by the
+warmth and odours of the air that he was in a small, tight room, and in
+a haze he fancied that he had fallen in the tepee of Tillie, the squaw.
+Then he remembered. He opened his eyes.
+
+He was lying in a bunk, raised high from the floor, and above the foot
+of the bed was a small window, shaded by a frilled white curtain.
+Reivers lay long and looked at the curtain before his eyes moved to
+further explore the room. For once, long, long ago, he had belonged in a
+world where white frilled curtains and frills of other kinds were not an
+exception.
+
+In his physically washed-out condition his memory reached back and
+pictured that world with uncanny clearness, and he turned from the
+curtain with a frown of annoyance to look straight into the eyes of
+Duncan Roy, who sat by the fireplace across the room and studied him
+from beneath shaggy red brows.
+
+Reivers looked the man over idly at first, then with a considerable
+interest and appreciation. Sitting crouched over on a low stone bench,
+with the light of the fire and of the sun upon him, MacGregor resembled
+nothing so much as an old red-haired bear. He was short of leg and
+bow-legged, but his torso and head were enormous. His arms, folded
+across the knees, were bear-like in length and size, and his hair and
+beard flamed golden red.
+
+There was no friendliness in the small, grey eyes which regarded Reivers
+so steadily. Duncan MacGregor was no man to hide his true feelings.
+Reivers looked enquiringly around.
+
+“She’s stepped outside to feed the dogs,” said MacGregor, interpreting
+the look. “You’ll have to put up with my poor company for the time
+being.”
+
+“I accept your apology,” said Reivers and turned comfortably toward the
+wall.
+
+A deep, chesty chuckle came from the fireside.
+
+“Man, whoever are you or whatever are you, to take it that Duncan
+MacGregor feels any need to apologise to you?”
+
+The words were further balm to Reivers’s new-found feeling of comfort
+and content.
+
+“Say that again, please,” he requested drowsily.
+
+Laughingly the giant by the fire repeated his query.
+
+“Good!” murmured Reivers. “I just wanted to be sure that you didn’t know
+who I am—or, rather, who I was?”
+
+“Blood o’ the de’il!” laughed the Scotchman. “So it’s that, is it? Tell
+me, how much reward is there offered for you, dead or alive? I’m a
+thrifty man, lad, and you hardly look like a man who’d have a small
+price on his head.”
+
+“Wrong, quite wrong, my suspicious friend,” said Reivers. “I see you’ve
+the simple mind of the man who’s spent much time in lone places. You
+jump at the natural conclusion. When you know me better you’ll know that
+that won’t apply to me.”
+
+“Well,” drawled the Scotchman good-naturedly, “I do not say that it
+looks suspicious to be found a two-days’ march out in the Dead Lands,
+without food, dog, or weapons, with an empty belly and a hole through
+the shoulder, but there are people who might draw the conclusion that a
+man so fixed was travelling because some place behind him was mighty bad
+for his health. But I have no doubt you have an explanation? No doubt
+’tis quite the way you prefer to travel?”
+
+“Under certain circumstances, it is,” said Reivers.
+
+“Aye; under certain circumstances. Such as an affair with a ‘Redcoat,’
+for instance.”
+
+“Wrong again, my simple-minded friend. You’re quite welcome to bring the
+whole Mounted Police here to look me over. I’m not on their lists, or
+the lists of any authority in the world, as ‘wanted.’”
+
+“For that insult—that I’m of the kind that bears tales to the
+police—I’ll have an accounting with you later on,” said MacGregor
+sharply. “For the rest—you’ll admit that you’re under some small
+obligation to us—will you be kind enough to explain what lay behind you
+that you should be out on the barrens in your condition? I’ll have you
+know that I am no man to ask pay for succouring the sick or wounded.
+Neither am I the man to let any well man be near-speaking with my ward
+and niece, Hattie MacGregor, without I know what’s the straight of him.”
+
+Reivers turned luxuriously in his bunk and regarded his inquisitor with
+a smile.
+
+“Poor, dainty, helpless, little lady!” he mocked. “So weak and frail
+that she needs a protector. Never carries anything more than an
+eight-inch knife up her sleeve. You do right, MacGregor; your niece
+certainly needs looking after. She certainly doesn’t know how to take
+care of herself.
+
+“But about obligations, I don’t quite agree with you. Didn’t you owe me
+a little something for that turn with the bearded fellow? Not that I did
+it to save the girl,” he continued loudly, as he heard the door open
+behind him and knew that Hattie MacGregor had entered. “What was she to
+me? Nothing! But I was hungry. I needed food. But for that our
+black-bearded friend might now have been wandering care-free over the
+snows, a red-haired woman still strapped to his sledge, his taste
+seeming to run to that colour, which mine does not.”
+
+Hattie MacGregor stilled her uncle’s retort with a shake of her
+golden-red head, crossed to the fireplace and took up a bowl that was
+simmering there, and approached the bed. Reivers looked at her closely,
+striving to catch her eye, but she seated herself beside him without
+apparently paying the slightest attention. She spoke no word, made no
+sign to welcome him back from his unconsciousness, but merely held a
+spoonful of the steaming broth up to his lips.
+
+There was a certain dexterity in her movements which told that she had
+performed this action many, many times before, and there was nothing in
+her manner to indicate her sensibility of the change in his condition.
+Reivers opened his mouth to laugh, and the girl dexterously tilted the
+contents of the spoon down his throat.
+
+“You fool!” he sputtered, half strangling.
+
+He strove to rise, but her round, warm arm held him down. Over by the
+fireplace Duncan MacGregor slapped his thigh and chuckled deep down in
+his hairy throat, but on the face of his niece there was only the
+determined patience of the nurse dealing with a patient not yet entirely
+responsible for his behaviour.
+
+She was not surprised at his outbreak, Reivers saw. Apparently she had
+fed him many times just so—he utterly helpless and childish, she capable
+and calm. Apparently she was determined to sit there, firm and patient,
+until he was ready to take his broth quietly and without fuss.
+
+Indignantly he raised his hands to take the bowl from her; then he
+opened his eyes wide in surprise. He was so weak that he could barely
+lift his arms, and when she offered him a second spoonful he swallowed
+it without further demur.
+
+“Ah, well, we’ll soon be able to take the trail again,” drawled
+MacGregor mockingly. “We’re getting strong now; soon we’ll be able to
+eat with our own hands.”
+
+“Hold tongue, Uncle,” snapped the girl, and continued to feed her
+patient.
+
+“I suppose I must thank you?” taunted Reivers, when the bowl was empty.
+
+Hattie MacGregor made no sign to indicate that she had heard. She put
+the bowl away, felt Reivers’ pulse, laid her hand upon his
+forehead—never looking at him the while—arranged the pillows under his
+head, tucked him in and without speaking went out. Reivers’ eyes
+followed her till the door closed behind her.
+
+“The little spitfire!” he growled in grudging admiration; and Duncan
+MacGregor, by the fire, laughed till the room echoed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV—GOLD!
+
+
+Next morning when she came to feed him Reivers angrily reached for the
+bowl. He was stronger than the day before, and he held his hands forth
+without trembling.
+
+“There’s no need of your feeding me by hand any longer,” said he. “I
+assure you I’ll enjoy my food much better alone than I do with you
+feeding me.”
+
+The girl seated herself at the bunk-side, holding the bowl out of his
+reach, and looked him quietly in the eyes. It was the first time she had
+appeared to notice his return to consciousness, and Reivers smiled
+quizzically at her scrutiny. She did not smile in return, merely studied
+him as if he were an interesting subject.
+
+In the grey light of morning Reivers for the first time saw her with
+eyes cleared of the fever blur. His smile vanished, for he saw that this
+woman, to him, was different from any woman he ever had known before.
+And he had known many.
+
+In her wide grey eyes there rode a sorrow that reached out and held the
+observer, despite her evident efforts to keep it hidden. But the mouth
+belied the eyes. It was set with an expression of determination, almost
+superhuman, almost savage. It was as if this girl, just rounding her
+twenties, had turned herself into a force for the accomplishment of an
+object. The mouth was harsh, almost lipless, in its set. Yet, beneath
+all this, the woman in Hattie MacGregor was obvious, soft, yearning.
+
+Many women had had a part in Reivers’ life—far too many. None of them
+had held his interests longer than for a few months; none of them had he
+failed to tame and break. And none of them had reached below the hard
+husk of him and touched the better man as Hattie MacGregor did at this
+moment. His past experiences, his past attitude toward women, his past
+manner of life, flashed through his mind, each picture bringing with it
+a stab of remorse.
+
+Remorse! The Snow Burner remorseful! He laughed his old laugh of
+contempt and defiance of all the world, but, though he refused to
+acknowledge it to himself, the old, invincible, self-assured ring was
+not in it. This girl was not to him what other women had been, and he
+saw that he could not tame her as he had tamed them.
+
+Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wished that the past had been
+different. He actually felt unworthy. Well, the past was past. It had
+died with him in the river. He was beginning a new life, a new name, a
+new man. Why couldn’t he? He drove the weak thoughts away. What
+nonsense! He—Hell-Camp Reivers—getting soft over a woman? Pooh!
+
+“I said I could feed myself,” he snarled. “Give me that bowl. I don’t
+want you around.”
+
+For reply she dipped the spoon into the food and held it ready.
+
+“Lie down quietly, please,” she said coldly. “This is no time for
+keeping up your play of being a big man.”
+
+“Give me that bowl,” he commanded.
+
+“Uncle,” she called quietly.
+
+Her big kinsman came lurching in from the other room of the cabin.
+
+“Aye, lass?” said he.
+
+“It looks as if we would have to obey Father Batiste’s directions and
+feed him by force,” said the girl quietly. “He has come out of the
+fever, but he hasn’t got his senses back. He thinks of feeding himself.
+Do you get the straps, Uncle. You recollect Father Batiste’s orders.”
+
+Duncan MacGregor scratched his hairy head in puzzled fashion.
+
+“How now, stranger?” he growled. “Can you no take your food in peace?”
+
+“I can take it without anybody’s help,” insisted Reivers. He knew that
+the situation was ridiculous, but he saw no way of getting the
+whip-hand.
+
+“It was the word of the good Father, without whom you would now be
+resting out in the snow with a cairn of rock over you, that you should
+be fed so much and so little for some days after your senses come back,”
+said MacGregor slowly. “I do not ken the right of it quite, but the lass
+does. The lass—she’ll have her way, I suspect. I can do naught but obey
+her orders.”
+
+“Get the straps,” commanded the girl curtly.
+
+Reivers glared at her, but she looked back without the least losing her
+self-possession or determination.
+
+“You’ll pay for this!” he snorted.
+
+“Will you take your food without the straps?” said she.
+
+For a minute their eyes met in conflict.
+
+“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Reivers. “Have your silly way.”
+
+“Good. That’s a good boy,” she said softly; and Duncan Roy ran from the
+room choking.
+
+“You see,” she continued, as he swallowed the first spoonful, “it isn’t
+always possible to have your own way, is it? I am doing this only for
+your own good.”
+
+“Hold your tongue,” he growled. “I’ve got to eat this food, but I don’t
+have to listen to your talk.”
+
+“Quite right,” she agreed, and the meal was finished in silence.
+
+At noon she fed him again, without speaking a word. Apparently she had
+given her uncle orders likewise to refrain from talking to Reivers, for
+not a word did he speak during the day.
+
+In the evening the same silent feeding took place. After she and her
+uncle had supped, they drew up to the fireplace, where, in silence,
+Duncan repaired a dog-harness while the girl sewed busily at a fur coat.
+At short intervals the uncle cast a look toward Reivers’ bunk, then
+choked a chuckle in his beard, each chuckle bringing a glance of reproof
+from his niece.
+
+“No, Hattie,” MacGregor broke out finally, “I cannot hold tongue any
+longer. Company is no’ so plentiful in the North that we can sit by and
+have no speech. Do you keep still if you wish—I must talk. Stranger, are
+you going to tell me about yoursel’, as I asked you yestereve?”
+
+“Does her Royal Highness, the Red-Headed Chieftainess, permit me to
+speak?” queried Reivers sarcastically.
+
+“’Twas your own sel’ told me to hold tongue,” said the girl evenly,
+without looking up. “I am glad to see you are reasonable enough to give
+in.”
+
+“Let be, Hattie,” grumbled the old man. “He’s our guest, and we in his
+debt. Stranger, who are you?”
+
+“Nobody,” said Reivers.
+
+“Ah!” cried the girl. “Now he’s come to his senses, sure enough.”
+
+“Hattie!” said the old man ominously. “I beg pardon for her uncivility,
+stranger.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Reivers lightly. “Apparently she doesn’t know any
+better. Speaking to you, sir, I am nobody. I’m as much nobody as a child
+born yesterday. My life—as far as you’re concerned—began up there on the
+rocks in the Dead Lands.
+
+“I died just a few days before that—died as effectively as if a dozen
+preachers had read the service over me. You don’t understand that.
+You’ve got a simple mind. But I tell you I’m beginning a new life as
+completely as if there was no life behind me, and as you know all that’s
+happened in this new life, you see there’s nothing for me to tell you
+about myself.”
+
+“You died,” repeated the old man slowly. “I’ll warrant you had a good
+reason.”
+
+“A fair one. I wanted to live. I died to save my life.”
+
+“Speak plain!” growled MacGregor. “You were not fleeing from the law?”
+
+“No—as I told you yesterday. The only law I was fleeing from was the
+good old one that cheap men make when they become a mob.”
+
+“I tak’ it they had a fair reason for becoming a mob?”
+
+“The best in the world,” agreed Reivers. “They wanted to kill me. Now,
+why they wanted to do that is something that belongs to my other
+life—with the other man—has nothing at all to do with this man—with
+me—and therefore I am not going to tell you anything about it, except
+this: I didn’t come away with anything that belonged to them, except
+possibly my life.”
+
+MacGregor nodded sagely as Reivers ended.
+
+“And his own bare life a man has a right to get away with if he can,
+even though it’s property forfeited to others,” he said. “I suppose you
+have, or had, a name?”
+
+“I did. I haven’t now; I haven’t thought of one that would please me.”
+
+“How would the ‘Woman Tamer’ suit you?” asked the girl, without pausing
+in her sewing. “You remember you told me one of your specialties was
+taming spitfires like me?”
+
+Reivers smiled.
+
+“I am glad to see that you’ve become sufficiently interested in me, Miss
+MacGregor, to select me a name.”
+
+“Interested!” she flared; then subsided and bent over her sewing. “I
+will speak no more, Uncle,” she said meekly.
+
+“Good!” sneered Reivers. “Your manners are improving. And now, Mr.
+MacGregor, what about yourselves, and your brother, and a mine, and a
+man named Moir that I’ve heard you speak of?”
+
+Duncan MacGregor tossed a fresh birch chunk into the fire and carefully
+poked the coals around it. Outside, the dogs, burrowing in the snow,
+sent up to the sky their weird night-cry, a cry of prayer and protest,
+protest against the darkness and mystery of night, prayer for the return
+of the light of day. A wind sprang up and whipped dry snow against the
+cabin window, and to the sound of its swishing wail Duncan MacGregor
+began to speak.
+
+“Little as you’ve seen fit to tell about yourself, stranger,” he said,
+“’tis plain from your behaviour out on the rocks that you’re no man of
+that foul Welsh cutthroat and thief, Shanty Moir. For the manner in
+which you dealt with yon man, we owe you a debt.”
+
+“We owe him nothing,” interrupted the niece. “Had he not interfered, I
+would have found the way to Shanty Moir.”
+
+“But as how?”
+
+“What matter as how? What matter what happens to me if I could find what
+has become of my father and bring justice to the head of Shanty Moir?”
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+“We owe you a debt,” he continued, speaking to Reivers, “and can not
+refuse to tell you how it is with us. It is no pleasant situation we are
+in, as you may have judged. My brother, father of Hattie, is—or was, we
+do not know which—James MacGregor, ‘Red’ MacGregor so-called in this
+land, therefore MacGregor Roy, as is all our breed. You would have heard
+of him did you belong in this country.
+
+“Ten year ago we built this cabin, he and I, and settled down to trap
+the country, for the fur here is good. Five year ago a Cree half-breed
+gave James a sliver of rock to weight a net with, and the rock, curse it
+forever, was over half gold. The breed could not recall where the rock
+had come from, save that he had chucked it into his canoe some place up
+north.
+
+“James MacGregor stopped trapping then. He began to look for the spot
+where the gilty rock came from. Three years he looked and did not find
+it. Two years ago Shanty Moir came down the river and bided here, and
+Moir was a prospector among other things. Together they found it, after
+nearly two years looking together; for James took this Moir into
+partnership, and that was the unlucky day of his life.”
+
+MacGregor kicked savagely at the fire and sat silent for several
+minutes.
+
+“Six months gone they found it,” he continued dully, “in the Summer
+time. They came in for provisions—for provisions for all Winter. A
+deposit for two men to work, they said. My brother would not even tell
+me where they found it. The gold had got into his brain. It was his
+life’s blood to him. We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder.”
+
+He embraced the whole North with a despairing sweep of his long arms and
+continued:
+
+“Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone, to dig out the gold,
+the two of them, my brother, James, and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty
+Moir. For foul he has proven. In three months my brother had promised he
+would be back to say all was well with him. We have had no word, no word
+in these many months.
+
+“But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have heard of him. At Fifty
+Mile, and at Dumont’s Camp he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across
+the bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king of the richest
+deposit in the North, and offering to kill any man who offers to follow
+his trail to his holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must mean
+only one thing—the cut-throat Moir has done my brother to death and is
+flourishing on the gold that drew James MacGregor to his doom.
+
+“Well,” he went on harshly, “what men have found others can find. We
+have sent word broadcast that we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings,
+and that I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting that
+will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes me the rest of my
+life.”
+
+“And mine,” interjected the girl hotly. “Shanty Moir is mine, and I take
+toll for my father’s life. It’s no matter what comes to me, if I can
+bring justice to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my father. My
+hand—my own hand will take toll when we run the dog to earth.”
+
+In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully.
+
+“I’ve a good notion to go hunting this Moir and bring him to you just to
+see if you could make those words good,” said he. “With your own hand,
+eh? You’d fail, of course, at the last moment, being a woman, but it
+would almost be worth while getting this Moir for you to see what you’d
+do. Yes, it would be an interesting experiment.”
+
+It was the girl’s turn to laugh now, her laughter mocking his.
+
+“‘Twould be interesting to see what you would do did you stand face to
+face with Shanty Moir,” she sneered. “Yes, ’twould be an interesting
+experiment—to see how you’d crawl. For this can be said of the villain,
+Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men to get help from women. You
+bring Shanty Moir in! How would you do it—with your mouth?”
+
+“On second thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make any
+man listen to your tongue,” concluded Reivers solemnly.
+
+MacGregor growled and shook his head.
+
+“There’s no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black heart is a hard-grown,
+experienced man,” said he. “Henchmen of his—three of them, Welshmen
+all—came through here while James and he were hunting the mine, and he
+treated them like dogs and they him like a chieftain. ’Twas one of them
+you slew with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain: Shanty
+Moir has got word to them and they have come to the mine and overpowered
+my brother James. You may judge of the strong hand he holds over his men
+when a single one of them dares to raid my camp in my absence and steal
+the daughter of James MacGregor for his chieftain—a strong, big man.
+’Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He will die hard.”
+
+“Also—being of a thrifty breed—you won’t feel sorry at getting hold of
+whatever gold he’s taken out,” suggested Reivers.
+
+“That’s understood,” said MacGregor, and put a fresh chunk on the fire
+for the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI—THE LOOK IN A WOMAN’S EYES
+
+
+Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had fed him his morning’s meal,
+said casually to Reivers:
+
+“You have about six days more to pump my uncle and get all he knows
+about my father’s mine. In six days you should be strong enough to
+travel, and so long and no longer do I keep you.”
+
+“Six days?” repeated Reivers. “I may take it into my head to start
+before.”
+
+“And that’s all the good that would do you,” she replied promptly. “You
+don’t go from here until you are firm on your feet, and that will be six
+days, about.”
+
+“Your interest flatters me,” he mocked.
+
+“Interest!” Her laugh was bitter. “No stray, wounded cur even goes from
+this camp till he’s fit to rustle a living on the trail. I could do no
+less even for you.”
+
+“And if I should make up my mind and go?”
+
+“I would shoot you if necessary to keep you here till my duty by you is
+done!”
+
+“You spitfire!” laughed Reivers, hiding the admiration that leaped into
+his eyes. “And what makes you think I’m going hunting for this alleged
+mine when I depart from your too warm hospitality?”
+
+“Pooh! ’Tis easy enough to see that you’re that kind—you with your long,
+hungry nose! I was watching you when my uncle babbled away last night.
+You’ve naught a thing in the world but the clothes you stand in. What
+would you do but go snooping around when you hear of gold? I see it in
+your mean eyes. Well, seek all you please. You’re welcome. You’ll not
+interfere with our quest. In the first place, you have not the heart to
+stay on the trail long enough to succeed; in the second, you’d
+back-track quick enough did you once come face to face with Shanty
+Moir.”
+
+“And you—I suppose this bad man, Shanty Moir, will quail when he sees
+your red hair? Or perhaps you expect to charm him as you charmed the
+gentleman who had you tied on the sledge?”
+
+“I do not know that,” she said without irritation. “But I do know that
+my uncle and I will run Shanty Moir to earth, and that he will pay in
+full for the wrong he has done.”
+
+“You silly, childish fool!” he broke out. “Haven’t you brains enough to
+realise what an impossible wild-goose chase you’re on? Since it took
+your father five years to find the mine, you ought to realise that it’s
+pretty hard to locate. Since he didn’t find it until this Moir, a
+prospector, came to help him, you ought to understand that it takes a
+miner to find it.
+
+“You’re no miner. Your uncle is no miner. You’ve neither of you had the
+slightest experience in this sort of thing. You wouldn’t know the signs
+if you saw them. You’ll go wandering aimlessly around, maybe walking
+over Shanty Moir’s head; because, since nobody has stumbled across his
+camp, it must be so well hidden that it can’t be seen unless you know
+right where to look. Find it! You’re a couple of children!”
+
+“Mayhap. But we are not so aimless as you may think. We go to Fifty Mile
+and to Dumont’s Camp and stay. Sooner or later Shanty Moir will come
+there, to throw my father’s gold over the bars and to worse. It may be a
+month, a year—it doesn’t make any difference. But I suppose a great man
+like you has a quicker and surer way of doing it?”
+
+“I have,” said Reivers.
+
+“No doubt. I could see your eyes grow greedy when you heard my uncle
+tell of gold.”
+
+“Oh, no; not especially,” taunted Reivers. “The gold is an incident.
+Shanty Moir is what interests me. He seems to be a gentleman of parts.
+I’m going to get him. I’m going to bring you face to face with him. I
+want to see if you could make good the strong talk you’ve been dealing
+out as to what you would do. You interest me that way, Miss MacGregor,
+and that way only. It will be an interesting experiment to get you
+Shanty Moir.”
+
+“Thank Heaven!” she said grimly. “We’ll soon be rid of you and your big
+talk. Then I can forget that any man gave me the name you gave me and
+lived to brag about it afterward.”
+
+He laughed, as one laughs at a petulant child.
+
+“You will never forget me,” he said. “You know that you will not forget
+me, if you live a thousand years.”
+
+“I have forgotten better men than you,” she said and went out, slamming
+the door.
+
+That evening Reivers sat up by the fire and further plied old MacGregor
+with questions concerning the mine.
+
+“You say that your brother claimed the mine lay to the north,” he said.
+“I suppose you have searched the north first of all?”
+
+“For a month I have done nothing else,” was the reply. “I have not gone
+far enough north. My brother James said it lay north from here; and
+’twas north he and Shanty Moir went when they started on their last trip
+together, from which my brother did not return or send word.”
+
+“Dumont’s Camp and Fifty Mile, where Moir’s been on sprees; lay to the
+west.”
+
+“Northwest, aye. Four days’ hard mushing to Fifty Mile. Dumont’s
+hell-hole’s a day beyond.”
+
+“And you think the mine lies to the north of that?”
+
+“Aye. More like in a direct line north of here, for ’twas so they went
+when they left here.”
+
+Reivers hid the smile of triumph that struggled on his lips. The Dead
+Lands were strange country to him, but in the land north of Fifty Mile
+he was at home. In his wanderings he had spent months in that country in
+company with many other deluded men who thought to dig gold out of the
+bare, frozen tundra. He had found no gold there, and neither had any one
+else. There was no gold up there, could be none there, and, what was
+more important to him just now, there was no rock formation, nothing but
+muskeg and tundra. The mine could not be up north.
+
+It must, however, be within easy mushing distance of Fifty Mile and
+Dumont’s Camp, say two or three days, else Shanty Moir would not have
+hied himself to these settlements when the need for riot and wassail
+overcame him.
+
+“You know the ground between here and Fifty Mile, I suppose?” he said
+suddenly.
+
+“’Tis my trapping-ground,” replied MacGregor.
+
+So the mine couldn’t be east of the settlements. It was to the west or
+the south.
+
+“Your brother was particularly careful to keep the location of his find
+secret even from you?”
+
+“Aye,” said MacGregor sorrowfully. “It had gone to his head, he had
+searched so long, and the find was so big. He took no chances that I
+might know it, or his daughter Hattie; only the thief, Shanty Moir.”
+
+And he said that the mine lay to the north. That might mean that it lay
+to the south—west or south of the settlements, there his search would
+lie. It was new country to him, and, as MacGregor well knew before he
+gave him his confidence, a man not knowing the land might wander
+aimlessly for years without covering those vast, broken reaches. But
+MacGregor did not know of the Chippewa squaw, Tillie, and her people.
+
+“And now I suppose you will be able to find it soon,” snapped Hattie
+MacGregor, “now that you have pumped my uncle dry?”
+
+“I will,” said Reivers. “I’ll be there waiting for you when you come
+along.” And Duncan MacGregor chuckled deeply.
+
+For the remainder of his stay at the cabin, Reivers maintained a sullen
+silence toward the girl. Had she been different, had she affected him
+differently, he would have cursed her for daring to disturb him even to
+this slight extent. But he knew that if she had been different she would
+not have disturbed him at all. Well, he would soon be away, and then he
+would forget her.
+
+He had an object again. His nature was such that he craved power and
+dominance over men, as another man craves food. He would not live at all
+unless he had power. He had used this power too ruthlessly at
+Cameron-Dam Camp, and it had been wrested from him. For the time being
+he was down among the herd. But not for long.
+
+Shanty Moir had a mine some place south or west of the settlements, and
+the mine yielded gold nuggets and gold dust for Shanty Moir to fling
+across the bars. Gold spells power. Given gold, Reivers would have back
+his old-time power over men, aye, and over women. Not merely a power up
+there in the frozen North, but in the world to which he had long ago
+belonged: the world of men in dress clothes, of lights and soft rugs, or
+women, soft-speaking women, shimmery gowns and white shoulders, their
+eyes and apparel a constant invitation to the great adventure of love.
+
+After all, that was the world that he belonged in. And gold would give
+him power there, and in that whirl he would forget this red-haired,
+semi-savage who looked him in the eye as no other woman ever had dared.
+His fists clenched as his thoughts lighted up the future. The
+Snow-Burner had died, but he would live again, and he would forget,
+absolutely and completely, Hattie MacGregor.
+
+On the morning of the sixth day Duncan MacGregor gravely placed before
+him outside the cabin door a pair of light snowshoes and a grub-bag
+filled with food for four days. Reivers strapped on the snowshoes and
+ran his arms through the bagstraps without a word.
+
+“Stranger,” said MacGregor, holding out his hand, “I did not like you
+when first I saw you. I do not say I like you now. But—shake hands.”
+
+Reivers hurriedly shook hands and tore himself away. He had resolved to
+go without seeing Hattie, and he was inwardly raging at himself because
+he found this resolution hard to keep. He laid his course for the
+nearest rise of land, half a mile away. Once over the rise the cabin
+would be shut out of sight, and even though he should weaken and look
+back there would be no danger of letting her see.
+
+Bent far over, head down, lunging along with the cunning strides of the
+trained snowshoer, he topped the rise and dropped down on the farther
+side. There he paused to rest himself and draw breath, and as he stood
+there Hattie MacGregor and her dog-team swept at right angles across his
+trail.
+
+She was riding boy-fashion, half sitting, half lying, on the empty
+sledge, driving the dogs furiously for their daily exercise. She did not
+speak. She merely looked up at him as she went past. Then she was gone
+in a flurry of snow, and Reivers went forth on his quest of power with a
+curse on his lips and in his heart the determination that no weakening
+memories of a girl’s wistful eyes should interfere with his aim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII—ON THE TRAIL OF FORTUNE
+
+
+Reivers travelled steadily for an hour at the best pace that was in him.
+It was not a good pace, for he was far from being in his old physical
+condition, and the lift and swing of a snowshoe will cramp the calves
+and ankle-tendons of a man grown soft from long bed-lying, no matter how
+cunning may be his stride.
+
+He swore a little at first over his slow progress. He was like a wolf,
+suddenly released from a trap, who desires to travel far, swiftly and
+instantly, and who finds that the trap has made him lame.
+
+Reivers wanted to put the MacGregor cabin, and the scenes about it,
+which might remind him of Hattie, behind him with a rush. But the rush,
+he soon found, threatened to cripple him, so he must perforce give it
+up. The trail that he had set out to make was not one that any man,
+least of all one recently convalescent, could hope to cover in a single
+burst of speed.
+
+He was going to the Winter camp of the people of Tillie, the squaw. The
+camp lay somewhere in the northwest. How far away he did not know; and
+it was no part of his plans to arrive at the camp of the Chippewas
+depleted in energy and resource. The role he had set out to play now
+called for the character of the Snow-Burner at his best—dominant,
+unconquerable. Therefore, when he found that his first efforts at speed
+threatened to cripple him with the treacherous snow-shoe cramp, he
+resigned himself to a pace which would have shamed him had he been in
+good condition. It was poor snow-shoeing, but at the end of an hour he
+had placed between himself and all possible sight of Hattie MacGregor
+the first ragged rock-ramparts of the Dead Lands, and he was content.
+
+On the western slope of a low ridge he unstrapped his snow-shoes and sat
+down on a bare boulder for a rest. His heart throbbed nervously from his
+exertion and his lungs gasped weakly. But with each breath of the crisp
+air his strength was coming back to him, and in his head the brains of
+the Snow-Burner worked as of old. He smiled with great
+self-satisfaction. He was not considering his condition, was not
+counting the difficulties that lay in his path. He was merely picturing,
+with lightning-like play of that powerful mental machinery of his, the
+desperate nature of the adventure toward which he was travelling.
+
+It was desperate enough even to thrill Hell-Camp Reivers. For probably
+never did born adventurer set forth of his own free will on a more
+deadly, more hopeless-looking trail. As he sat on the rock there in the
+Dead Lands, Reivers was in better condition than on his flight from
+Cameron-Dam Camp to this extent: the bullet-hole in his shoulder was
+healed, and, he had recuperated from the fever brought on by exposure
+and exhaustion. That was all. He was still the bare man with empty
+hands. He possessed nothing in the world but the clothes he stood in,
+the food on his back and the gift snow-shoes on his feet.
+
+He had not even a knife that might be called a weapon, for the
+case-knife that old MacGregor had given him upon parting could scarcely
+be reckoned such. In this condition he was setting forth—first, to find
+a cunningly hidden mine; second, to take it and keep it for his own from
+one Shanty Moir, who treated his henchmen like dogs and was looked up to
+as a chieftain.
+
+The Snow-Burner lived again as he contemplated the possibilities of a
+clash with Moir. If what the MacGregors had said was true, Shanty Moir
+was a boss man himself. And as instinctively and eagerly as one
+ten-pronged buck tears straight through timber, swamp and water to
+battle with another buck whose deep-voiced challenge proclaims him
+similarly a giant, so Reivers was going toward Shanty Moir.
+
+He leaped to his feet, with flashing eyes, at the thought of what was
+coming. Then he remembered his weakened condition and sat down again.
+For the immediate present, until his full strength returned, he must
+make craft take the place of strength.
+
+When he was ready to start again, Reivers took his bearings from the
+sun, it being a clear day, and laid his trail as straight toward the
+northwest as the formation of the Dead Lands would allow. He slept that
+night by a hot spring. A tiny rivulet ran unfrozen from the spring
+southward down into the maze of barren stone, a thread of dark, steaming
+water, wandering through the white, frozen snow.
+
+Had he been a little less tired with the day’s march Reivers might have
+paid more attention to this phenomenon that evening. In the morning he
+awoke with such eagerness to be on toward his adventure that he marched
+off without bestowing on the stream more than a casual glance. And later
+he came to curse his carelessness.
+
+Bearing steadily toward the northwest, his course lay in the Dead Lands
+for the greater part of the day. Shortly before sundown he saw with
+relief that ahead the rocks and ridges gave way to the flat tundra, with
+small clumps of stunted willows dotting the flatness, like tiny islands
+in a sea of snow.
+
+Reivers quickened his pace. Out on the tundra he hurried straight to the
+nearest bunch of willows. Even at a distance of several rods the chewed
+white branches of the willows told him their story, and he gave vent to
+a shout of relief. The caribou had been feeding there. The Chippewas
+lived on the caribou in Winter. He had only to follow the trail of the
+animals and he would soon run across the moccasin tracks of his friends,
+the Indians.
+
+Luck favoured him more than he hoped for. At his shout there was a crash
+in a clump of willows a hundred yards ahead and a bull caribou lumbered
+clumsily into the open. At the sight of him the beast snorted loudly and
+turned and ran. From right and left came other crashes, and in the
+gathering dusk the herd which had been stripping the willows fled in the
+wake of the sentinel bull, their ungainly gait whipping them out of
+sight and hearing in uncanny fashion.
+
+Reivers smiled. The camp of Tillie’s people would not be far from the
+feeding ground of the caribou. He ate his cold supper, crawled into the
+shelter of the willows and went to sleep.
+
+Dry, drifting snow half hid the tracks of the caribou during the night,
+and in the morning he was forced to wait for the late-coming daylight
+before picking up the trail. The herd had gone straight westward, and
+Reivers followed the signs, his eyes constantly scanning the snow for
+moccasin tracks or other evidence of human beings.
+
+In the middle of the forenoon, in a birch and willow swamp, he jumped
+the animals again. They caught his scent at a mile’s distance, and
+Reivers crouched down and watched avidly as they streaked from the swamp
+to security.
+
+To the north of the swamp lay the open, snow-covered tundra, where even
+the knife-like fore-hoof of the caribou would have hard time to dig out
+a living in the dead of Winter. To the south lay clumps of brush and
+stunted trees, ideal shelter and feed.
+
+The animals went north. Reivers nodded in great satisfaction. There were
+wolves or Indians to the south, probably the latter. Accordingly he
+turned southward. Toward noon he found his first moccasin track,
+evidently the trail of a single hunter who had come northward, but not
+quite far enough, on a hunt for caribou.
+
+The track looped back southward and Reivers trailed it. Soon a set of
+snow-shoe tracks joined the moccasins, and Reivers, after a close
+scrutiny had revealed the Chippewa pattern in the snow, knew that he was
+on the right track. The tracks dropped down on to the bed of a solidly
+frozen river and continued on to the south.
+
+Other tracks became visible. When they gathered together and made a
+hard-packed trail down the middle of the river, Reivers knew that a camp
+was not far away, and grew cautious.
+
+He found the camp as the swift Winter darkness came on, a group of half
+a dozen tepees set snugly in a bend of the river, one large tepee in the
+middle easily recognisable as that of Tillie, the squaw, chief of the
+band.
+
+Reivers sat down to wait. Presently he heard the camp-dogs growling and
+fighting over their evening meal and knew that they would be too
+occupied to notice and announce the approach of a stranger. Also, at
+this time the people of the camp would be in their tepees, supping
+heavily if the hunter’s god had been favourably inclined, and gnawing
+the cold bones of yesterday if that irrational deity had been unkind.
+
+By the whining note in the growls of the dogs, Reivers judged that the
+latter was the case this evening; and when he moved forward and stood
+listening outside the flap of the big tepee he knew that it was so.
+Within, an old squaw’s treble rose faintly in a whining chant, of which
+Reivers caught the despairing motif:
+
+    Black is the face of the sun, Ah wo!
+    The time has come for the old to die. Ah wo, ah wo!
+    There is meat only to keep alive the young. Ah wo!
+    We who are old must die. Ah wo! Ah wo! Ah wo!
+
+Any other white man but Reivers would have shuddered at the terrible,
+primitive story which the wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was
+with him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters had given up hopes
+of making a kill.
+
+With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap of the tepee. There
+was no noise. Suddenly the old squaw’s wail ceased; those in the tepee
+looked up from their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing inside
+the tepee, the flap closed behind him.
+
+There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw, an old man, two young
+hunters, a young girl, and Tillie. They were gathered around the
+fire-stone in the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie, by
+virtue of her position, had the warmest place and the most fish.
+
+No one spoke a word as they became aware of his presence. Only on
+Tillie’s face there came a look in which the traces of hunger vanished.
+Reivers stood looking down at the group for a moment in silence. Then he
+strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and sat down in her place. For
+Reivers knew Indians.
+
+“Feed me,” he commanded, tossing his grub-bag to her.
+
+He did not look at her as she placed before him the entire contents of
+the bag. Having served him she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting
+his pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply of cold meat
+that remained of his supply. When he had his fill he tossed small
+portions to the old squaw, the old man and the young girl.
+
+“Hunters are mighty,” he mocked in the Chippewa tongue, as the young men
+avidly eyed the meat. “They kill what they eat. The meat they do not
+kill would stick in their mighty throats.”
+
+Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side and eat what
+remained.
+
+“Men eat meat,” he continued, looking over the heads of the two hunters.
+“Old people and children are content with frozen fish. When I was here
+before there were men in this camp. There was meat in the tepees. The
+dogs had meat. Now I see the men are all gone.”
+
+One of the hunters raised his arms above his head, a gesture indicating
+strength, and let them fall resignedly to his side, a sign of despair.
+
+“The caribou are gone, Snow-Burner,” he said dully. “That is why there
+is no meat. All gone. The god of good kills has turned his face from us.
+Little Bear—” to the old man—“how long have our people hunted the
+caribou here?”
+
+Little Bear lifted his head, his wizened, smoked face more a black,
+carved mask than a human countenance.
+
+“Big Bear, my father, was an old man when I was born,” he said slowly.
+“When he was a boy so small that he slept with the women, our people
+came here for the Winter hunt.”
+
+“Oh, Little Bear,” chanted the hunter, “great was your father, the
+hunter; great were you as a hunter in your young days. Was there ever a
+Winter before when the caribou were not found here in plenty?”
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said the hunter, “these are the words of Little Bear,
+whose age no one knows. Always the caribou have been plenty here along
+this river in the Winter. Longer than any old man’s tales reach back
+have they fed upon the willows. They are not here this Winter. The gods
+are angry with us. We hunt. We hunt till we lie flat on the snow. We
+find no signs. There are men still here, Snow-Burner, but the caribou
+have gone.”
+
+“Have gone, have gone, have gone. Ah wo!” chanted the old squaw.
+
+“Where do you hunt?” asked Reivers tersely.
+
+“Where we have always hunted; where our fathers hunted before us,” was
+the reply. “Along the river in the muskeg and bush to the south we hunt.
+The caribou are not there. They are nowhere. The gods have taken them
+away. We must die and go where they are.”
+
+“We must go,” wailed the old squaw. “The gods refuse us meat. We must
+go.”
+
+Her chant of despair was heard beyond the tepee. In the smaller tents
+other voices took up the wail. The women were singing the death song,
+their primitive protest and acquiescence to what they considered the
+irrevocable pleasure of their dark gods.
+
+Reivers waited until the last squaw had whined herself into silence.
+Even then he did not speak at once. He knew that these simple people,
+who for his deeds had given him the expressive name of Snow-Burner, were
+waiting for him to speak, and he knew the value of silence upon their
+primitive souls. He sat with folded arms, looking above the heads of the
+two hunters.
+
+“You have done well,” he said, nodding impressively, but not looking at
+the two young men. “You have hunted as men who have the true hunter’s
+heart. But what can man do when the gods are against him? The gods are
+against you. They are not against me. To-morrow I slay you your fill of
+caribou.”
+
+“Snow-Burner,” whispered one of the hunters in the awe-stricken silence
+that followed this announcement, “there are no caribou here. Are you
+greater than the gods?”
+
+Reivers looked at him, and at the light in his eyes the young man drew
+back in fright.
+
+“To-morrow I give you your fill of meat,” he said slowly. “Not only
+enough for one day, but enough for all Winter. Each tepee shall be piled
+high with meat. Even the dogs shall eat till they want no more. I have
+promised. I alone. Do you—” he pointed at the hunters—“bring me to-night
+the two best rifles in the camp. If they do not shoot true to-morrow, do
+not let me find you here when I return from the hunt. And now the rest
+of you—all of you—go from here. Go, I will be alone.”
+
+They rose and went out obediently, except Tillie who watched Reivers’s
+face with avid eyes as the young girl left the tepee. Then she crawled
+forward and touched her forehead to his hand, for Reivers had not
+bestowed upon the girl a glance.
+
+Presently the hunters came back and placed their Winchesters at his
+feet. He examined each weapon carefully, found them in perfect order and
+fully loaded, and dismissed the men with a wave of his arm. Tillie sat
+with bowed head, humbly waiting his pleasure, but Reivers rolled himself
+in his blanket and lay down alone by the fire.
+
+“I wish to sleep warm,” he said. “See that the fire does not go out till
+the night is half gone. Be ready to go with me in the hour before
+daylight. Have the swiftest and strongest team of dogs and the largest
+sledge hitched and waiting to bear us to the hunt. Go! Now I sleep.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII—THE SNOW-BURNER HUNTS
+
+
+The snarling of dogs being put into harness awoke him in the morning,
+but he lay pretending to sleep until Tillie, having overseen the
+hitching-up, came in, prepared food over the fire, which had not gone
+out all night, and came timidly and laid a hand on his shoulder.
+
+It was pitch dark when they went from the tepee. The dogs whined at the
+prospect of a dark trail, and the hunter who held them plied his whip
+savagely. With the rifles carefully stowed in their buckskin cases on
+the sledge, and a big camp-axe, as their whole burden, Reivers
+immediately took command of the dogs and headed down the river.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” chattered the frozen hunter in disappointment. “There
+are no caribou to the south. It is a waste of strength to hunt there.”
+
+“There are no caribou anywhere for you,” retorted Reivers. “For me it
+does not make any difference where I hunt; the spirits are with me. Stay
+close to the tepees to-day. If any one follows my trail the spirits will
+refuse their help. Hi-yah! Mush!”
+
+Under the sting of his skilfully wielded whip the big team whirled down
+the river, Reivers riding in front, Tillie behind. But they did not go
+south for long. A few miles below the camp Reivers abruptly swung the
+dogs off the river-bed and bore westward.
+
+Half a mile of this and he shifted and changed his course to right
+angles, straight toward the north.
+
+“And now, mush! —— you! Mush for all that’s in you!” he cried, plying
+the whip. “You’ve got many miles to cover before daylight. Mush, mush!”
+
+He held straight northward until he left the bush and reached the open
+tundra at the spot where the caribou the day before had swung away
+farther north. He knew that the herd, being in a country undisturbed by
+man, would not travel far from the willows where he had jumped them the
+day before, and he held cautiously on their trail until the first grey
+of daylight showed a rise in the land ahead. Here he halted the dogs and
+crept forward on foot.
+
+It was as he expected. The caribou had halted on the other side of the
+height of land, feeling secure in that region where no man ever came.
+Below him he could see them moving, and he realised that he must act at
+once, before they began their travels of the day.
+
+“Tillie,” he whispered, coming back to the sledge, “as soon as you can
+see the snow on the knoll ahead do you drive the dogs around there, to
+the right, and swing to the left along the other side of the knoll.
+Drive fast and shout loud. Shout as if the wolves had you. There are
+caribou over the knoll. When the dogs see them let them go straight for
+the herd. But wait till the snow shows white in the daylight.”
+
+Snatching both rifles from their covers, he ran around the left shoulder
+of the knoll and ambushed in a trifling hollow. He waited patiently, one
+rifle cocked and in his hand, the other lying ready at his side. The
+light grew broader; the herd, just out of safe rifle shot, began milling
+restlessly.
+
+Suddenly, from around the right of the knoll, came the sharp yelp of a
+dog as Tillie’s leader, rounding the ridge, caught scent and sight of
+living meat ahead. The caribou stopped dead. Then bedlam broke loose as
+the dogs saw what was before them. And the caribou, trembling at the
+wolf-yells of the dogs, broke into their swift, lumbering run and came
+streaking straight past Reivers at fifty yards’ distance.
+
+Reivers waited until the maddened beasts were running four deep before
+him. Then the slaughter began. No need to watch the sights here. The
+crash of shot upon shot followed as quickly as he could pump the lever.
+There were ten shots in each rifle, and he fired them all before the
+herd was out of range. Then only the hideous yelps of the maddened dogs
+tore the morning quiet. A dozen caribou, some dead, some kicking, some
+trying to crawl away, were scattered over the snow, and Reivers nodded
+and knew that his hold on Tillie’s people was complete.
+
+The dogs were on the first caribou now, snarling, yelping, fighting,
+eating, for the time being as wild and savage as any of their wolf
+forebears. Tillie, spilled from the sledge in the first mad rush of the
+team, came waddling up to Reivers and bowed down before him humbly.
+
+“Snow-Burner, I know you are only a man, because I alone of my people
+have seen you among other white men,” she said. “Yet you are more than
+other men. Snow-Burner, I have lived among white people and know that
+the talk of spirits is only for children. But how knew you that the
+caribou were here?”
+
+“The meat is there,” said Reivers, pointing at his kill. “Your work is
+to take care of it. The axe is on the sledge. Cut off as many saddles
+and hind-quarters as the dogs can drag back to camp. The rest we will
+cache here. To your work. Do not ask questions.”
+
+He reloaded and put the wounded animals out of their misery, each with a
+shot through the head, and sat down and watched her as she slaved at her
+butcher’s task. Tillie had lived among white people, had been to the
+white man’s school even, but Reivers knew he would slacken his hold on
+her if he demeaned himself by assisting her in her toil.
+
+When the dogs had stayed their hunger he leaped into their midst with
+clubbed rifle and knocked them yelping away from their prey. When they
+turned and attacked him he coolly struck and kicked till they had
+enough. Then with the driving whip he beat them till they lay flat in
+the snow and whined for mercy.
+
+By the time Tillie had the sledge loaded and the rest of the kill cached
+under a huge heap of snow, it was noon, and the dogs started back with
+their heavy load, open-mouthed and panting, their excitement divided
+between fear of the man who had mastered them and the odour of fresh
+blood that reeked in their avid nostrils.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX—THE WHITE MAN’S WILL
+
+
+That night in the camp at the river bend the Indians feasted ravenously,
+and Reivers, sitting in Tillie’s place as new-made chief, looked on
+without smiling.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” said the oldest man at last. “What is it you want
+with us? Our furs? Speak. We obey your will.”
+
+“Furs are good,” replied Reivers, “when a man has nothing else, but gold
+is better, and the gold that another man has is best of all.”
+
+The old man cackled respectfully.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner! Do you come to us for gold? Do you think we would sit
+here without meat if we had gold? No, Snow-Burner. What we have you can
+have. Your will with the tribe from the oldest to the youngest is our
+law. We owe you our lives. The strength of our young men is yours; the
+wisdom of our old heads is yours. But gold we have not. Do not turn your
+frown upon us, Snow-Burner; you must know it is the truth.”
+
+“Since when,” said Reivers sternly, “has my friend, old Little Bear,
+dared say that the Snow-Burner has the foolishness of a woman in his
+head? Do you think I come seeking gold from you? No. It is the strength
+of your young men and the wisdom of your old heads that I want. I seek
+gold. You shall help me find it.”
+
+Little Bear raised his arms and let them fall in the eloquent Indian
+gesture of helplessness.
+
+“White men have been here often to seek for gold. The great Snow-Burner
+once was one of them. They have digged holes in the ground. They have
+taken the sand from creek bottoms. Did the Snow-Burner, who finds
+caribou where there are none, find any gold here? No. It is an old
+story. There is no gold here.”
+
+Reivers leaned forward and spoke harshly.
+
+“Listen, Little Bear; listen all you people. There is gold within three
+days’ march from here. Much gold. Another man digs it. You will find it
+for me. I have spoken.”
+
+Silence fell on the tepee. The Indians looked at one another. Little
+Bear finally spoke with bowed head.
+
+“We do the Snow-Burner’s will.”
+
+Nawa, the youngest and strongest of the hunters, turned to Reivers
+respectfully.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa serves you with the strength of his leg and the
+keenness of his eyes. Nawa knows that the Snow-Burner sees things that
+are hidden to us. Our oldest men say there is no gold here. Other white
+men say there is no gold here. The Snow-Burner says there is gold near
+here.
+
+“The Snow-Burner sees what is hidden to others. Nawa does not doubt.
+Nawa waits only the Snow-Burner’s commands. But Nawa has been to the
+settlements at Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp. He has heard the white men
+talk. They talk there of a man who carries gold like gunpowder and gold
+like bullets, instead of the white man’s money.
+
+“Nawa has talked with Indians who have seen this man. They call him
+‘Iron Hair,’ because his hair is black and stiff like the quills of a
+porcupine. Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa knows nothing. He merely tells what he
+has heard. Is this the man the Snow-Burner, too, has heard of!”
+
+Reivers looked around the circle of smoke-blackened faces about the
+fire. No expression betrayed what was going on behind those wood-like
+masks, but Reivers knew Indians and sensed that they were all waiting
+excitedly for his answer.
+
+“That is the man,” he said, and by the complete silence that followed he
+knew that his reply had caused a sensation that would have made white
+men swear. “What know you of Iron Hair, Nawa?”
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa dolefully, “our tribe knows of Iron Hair to
+its sorrow. Two moons ago the big man with the hair like a porcupine was
+at Fifty Mile for whisky and food. He hired Small Eyes and Broken Wing
+of our tribe to haul the food to his camp, a day’s travelling each way,
+so he said. The pay was to be big. Small Eyes and Broken Wing went. So
+much people know. Nothing more. The sledges did not come back. Small
+Eyes and Broken Wing did not come back. So much do we know of Iron Hair.
+Nawa has spoken.”
+
+“Once there were men in these tepees,” said Reivers, looking high above
+Nawa’s head. “Once there were men who would have gone from their tepees
+to follow to the end the trail of their brothers who go and do not come
+back. Now there are no men. They sit in the tepees with the women and
+keep warm. Perhaps Small Eyes and Broken Wing were men and did not care
+to come back to people who sit by their fires and do not seek to find
+their brothers who disappear.”
+
+“We have sought, oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa hopelessly. “Do not think
+we have only sat by our fires. We sought to follow the trail of Iron
+Hair out of Fifty Mile——”
+
+“How ran the trail?” interrupted Reivers.
+
+“Between the north and the west. We went to hunt our brothers. But a
+storm had blotted out the trail. Iron Hair had gone out in the storm.
+Who can follow when there is no trail to see?”
+
+“Once,” resumed Reivers in the tone of contempt, “there were strong
+dog-drivers and sharp eyes here. They would have found the camp of Iron
+Hair in those days.”
+
+“Our dogs still are strong, our young men drive well, our eyes are sharp
+even now, Snow-Burner,” came Nawa’s weary reply. “We searched. Even as
+we searched for the caribou we searched for the camp of Iron Hair. We
+found no camp. There is no white man’s camp in this country. There is no
+camp at all. We searched till nothing the size of a man’s cap could be
+hidden. The white men from Dumont’s Camp and Fifty Mile have searched
+for the gold which white men are mad for. They found nothing. At the
+settlements the white men say, ‘This man must be the devil himself and
+go to hell for his gold, because his camp certainly is not in this world
+where men can see it with their eyes.’”
+
+“And the caribou were not in this world, either?” mocked Reivers.
+
+Nawa shook his head.
+
+“White men, too, have looked for the camp of Iron Hair.”
+
+“Many white men,” supplemented old Little Bear. “White men always look
+when they hear of gold. They find gold if it is to be found. The earth
+gives up its secrets to them. Snow-Burner, they could not find the place
+where Iron Hair digs his gold.”
+
+“Nawa and his hunters could not find the caribou,” said Reivers.
+
+There was no reply. He had driven his will home.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, at last, “as Little Bear has said, we do
+your will.”
+
+“Good;” Reivers rose and towered over them. “My will at present is that
+you go to your tepees. Sleep soundly. I have work for you in the
+morning.”
+
+He stood and watched while they filed, stooped over, through the low
+opening in the tepee wall. They went without question, without will of
+their own. A stronger will than theirs had caught them and held them.
+From hence on they were wholly subservient to the superior mentality
+which was to direct their actions. Reivers smiled. Old MacGregor had
+felt safe in telling about the mine; a strange man had no chance to find
+it. But MacGregor did not know of Tillie’s people.
+
+Reivers suddenly turned toward the fire. Tillie was standing there,
+arrayed in buckskin so white that she must have kept it protected from
+the tepee smoke in hope of his coming. At the sight of her there came
+before Reivers’ eyes the picture of Hattie MacGregor’s face as she had
+looked up at him when he was leaving the MacGregor cabin. The look that
+came over his face then was new even to Tillie.
+
+“You, too, get out!” he roared, and Tillie fled from the tepee in
+terror.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX—ANY MEANS TO AN END
+
+
+In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and cursed himself for
+his weakness. What had happened to him? Was he getting to be like other
+men, that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired girl
+interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had he not sworn to forget? And
+yet here came the memory of her—the wide grey eyes, the suffering mouth,
+the purity of the look of her—rising before his eyes like a vision to
+shame him.
+
+To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He understood the significance
+of the look she had given him, and which had stood between him and
+Tillie. Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing to his better
+self.
+
+His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly that it might have
+come from a bare skull. His better self! If a man believed in things
+like that he had to believe in the human race—had to believe in goodness
+and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and all that silly,
+effeminate rot. Reivers didn’t believe in that stuff. He knew only one
+life-law, that of strength over weakness, and that was the law he would
+live and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not interfere.
+
+With his terrible will-power he erased the memory of her from his mind.
+He did not erase the resentment at his own weakness. On the contrary,
+the resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that moment of
+weakness.
+
+There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious mine. One—the way
+he had first planned to follow—was to scatter his Indians, and as many
+others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the country lying to
+the south of Fifty Mile, where he knew the mine must be. Moir, or his
+men, must show themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would
+find Moir’s camp.
+
+But there was also a shorter and surer way—a shameful way. Moir, by the
+talk he had heard of him, came to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp for such
+whisky and feminine company as might be found. He had even sent one of
+his henchmen to steal Hattie MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was
+desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of the
+would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his man was either killed
+or captured, and that no hope for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir’s
+next move would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s, or to send a man
+there, to procure the means of salving his disappointment. And Reivers
+had two attractive women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who
+was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his momentary weakness.
+The black shamefulness of his scheme he laughed at. Then he went to
+sleep.
+
+He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning.
+
+“Have this tepee and another one loaded on one sledge,” he directed.
+“Have a second sledge loaded with caribou meat. Do you and the young
+girl prepare to come with me. We are going on a long journey. You will
+both take your brightest clothes.”
+
+He waited with set jaws while his orders were obeyed. No weakness any
+more. There was only one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the
+strong one.
+
+A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, and he strode forth
+to find Nawa, the young hunter, waiting with the two women ready for the
+trail.
+
+“How so?” he demanded. “Did I say aught about Nawa?”
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” whispered Tillie, “Neopa is to be Nawa’s squaw with
+the coming of Spring. They wish to go together.”
+
+“And I do not wish them to go together,” said Reivers harshly. “Give me
+that rifle.” He took the weapon from Nawa’s hands. “Do you stay here and
+eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of Spring, Nawa.”
+
+“Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, a flash of will lighting his eyes for the
+moment, “does Neopa come back to me?”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Reivers, cocking the rifle. “But if you try to follow
+you will never come back. Is it understood?”
+
+Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa made as if to run to him, but
+Reivers caught her brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He had
+resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter what the cost to others.
+
+“Mush! Get on!” he roared at the dogs, and with the rifle ready and with
+a backward glance at Nawa, he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont’s
+Camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI—THE SQUAW-MAN
+
+
+A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian camp, Dumont’s Camp had
+something to talk about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went
+through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest of the squaws was a
+beaut’! The old bum hadn’t stopped long, just long enough to trade a
+chunk of caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough,
+nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws.
+
+Dumont’s Camp opined that it was a good thing for the old cripple that
+he hadn’t stayed longer, else he might have found himself minus his
+squaws, especially the young one. But Dumont’s Camp would have been
+mightily puzzled had it seen how the limp and stoop went out of the
+squaw-man’s body the moment he had left their camp behind, how the
+foolish leer and stuttering speech disappeared from his mouth, and how,
+straight-backed and stern-visaged, he threw the bottle of hooch away in
+contempt and hurried on toward Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers had played many strange parts in his tumultuous life, and his
+squaw-man was a masterpiece. Fifty Mile had its sensation early next
+morning. The half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man with the two extremely
+desirable squaws came through, stopped for another bottle of hooch, and
+drove on and made camp just outside the settlement.
+
+“He certainly was one soft-headed old bum,” said Jack Raftery, leaning
+on the packing-case that served as bar in his logcabin saloon. “Yes,
+men, he certainly is bumped in the bean and locoed in his arms. Gimme
+that chunk o’ meat there for a bottle o’ hooch. ’Bout fifty pounds,
+it’ll weigh. I’d give ‘im a gallon, but he grins foolish and says:
+‘Bottle. One bottle.’ ‘Drag your meat in,’ says I. Well, gents, will you
+b’lieve he couldn’t make it. No, sir; paralysed in the arms or
+something.
+
+“That young squaw o’ his did the toting. A beaut’? Gents, there never
+was anything put up in a brown hide to touch it. An’ that locoed ol’ bum
+running ’round loose with it. Tempting providence, that’s what he is,
+when he comes parading ‘round real men-folks with skirts like them.
+Shouldn’t wonder if something’d happen to him one o’ these cold days.
+Looks like he might ‘a’ been an awful good man in his day, too. Well
+built. Reckon he’s been used mighty rough to be locoed and crippled up
+the way he is.”
+
+“I reck-ong,” drawled Black Pete, who ran the games at Raftery’s when
+there was any money in sight. “I reck-ong too mebbe he get handle more
+rough some tam ef he’s hang ‘round long wid dem two squaw. Tha’ small
+squaw’s too chic, she, to b’long to ol’ bum lak heem.”
+
+The assembled gents laughed. Had they seen the “ol’ bum” at that moment
+their laughter would have been cut short. Reivers, in a gully out of
+sight of the settlement, had thrown away his hooch, pitched camp,
+tethered the dogs and made all secure with a swiftness and efficiency
+that belied the characterisation Black Pete had applied to him. He had
+the two tepees set up far apart, the dogs tied between them, and Tillie
+and Neopa had one tepee, and Reivers the other, alone.
+
+Having made camp, Reivers knew what the boys would expect of him in his
+character of sodden squaw-man. Having resolved to use the most shameful
+means in the world to achieve his end, he played his base part to
+perfection.
+
+“Do you take this chunk of meat,” he directed Tillie, “and go down to
+the saloon and get another bottle of hooch. Yes, yes; I know I have
+destroyed one bottle. You are not to ask questions but to obey my
+commands. Go down and trade the meat for hooch. Do not stop to speak to
+the white men. Come, back at once. Go!”
+
+But down in Raftery’s the assemblage had no hint of these swift changes,
+and they laughed merrily at Black Pete’s remarks.
+
+“What d’you reckon his lay is, Jack?” asked one.
+
+“Booze,” replied Raftery instantly. “Nothing else. When you see a man
+who’s sure been as good a man in his day as this relic, trailing ’round
+with squaw folks, you can jest nacherlly whittle a little marker for him
+and paint on it, ‘’Nother white man as the hooch hez got.’ Sabbe? I
+trace him out as some prospector who’s got crippled up and been laying
+out ’mongst the Indians with a good supply of the ol’ frost-bite cure
+’longside of ’im. Nothin’ to do but tuh hit the jug offen enough to keep
+from gettin’ sober and remembering what he used to was. Sabbe? Been
+layin’ out sucking the neck of a jug till his ol’ thinker’s got twisted.
+
+“I’ve seen dozens of ’em. You can’t fool me when I see one, and I saw
+him when he was comin’ through the door. Ran out o’ hooch and was afraid
+he’d get sober, so he comes down here to get soaked up some more. Brings
+his load o’ meat ‘long to trade in, an’ these two brown dolls to make
+sure in case the caribou have been down this way, which they ain’t. Bet
+the drinks against two bits that he’ll be chasin’ one o’ the squaws down
+here for another bottle before an hour’s gone. They all do. I’ve seen
+his kind before.”
+
+Black Pete took the bet.
+
+“Because I’m onlucky, moi, lately, an’ I want to lose this bet,” he
+explained.
+
+Raftery laughed homerically.
+
+“What’s on you’ chest, Jack?” demanded one of his friends.
+
+“I was just thinking,” gurgled the saloonist, “what ’ud happen in case
+this stiff gent, Iron Hair, was to run in ’bout this time.”
+
+“By Gar!” laughed Pete. “An’ Iron Hair, he’s just ’bout due.”
+
+At that moment Tillie came waddling in, laid down her bundle of meat
+before Raftery and said—
+
+“One bottle.”
+
+“What’d I tell you?” chuckled Raftery, handing over the liquor. “Boss
+him get laid out, eh?” he said to Tillie.
+
+But Tillie did not pause for conversation. She whipped the bottle under
+her blanket and waddled out without a word.
+
+“Well, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” proclaimed Raftery. “That ol’ bum has got
+’em well trained, anyhow.”
+
+Black Pete pulled his beard reflectively.
+
+“Come to theenk,” he mused aloud, “dere was wan rifle on those sledge. I
+theenk mebbe I no go viseet thees ol’ bum, he’s camp, teel she’s leetle
+better acquaint’ weeth moi.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII—THE SCORN OF A PURE WOMAN
+
+
+And Fifty Mile talked. It talked to all who came in from the white
+wastes of the country around. It talked in its tents. It talked while
+trifling with Black Pete’s games of no-chance. It talked around
+Raftery’s bar. It talked so loudly that men heard it up at Dumont’s
+Camp.
+
+From Fifty Mile and Dumont’s the talk spread up and down the trails, and
+even out to solitary cabins and dugouts where there were no trails.
+Wherever men were to be found in that desolate region the talk of Fifty
+Mile soon made its way. And the talk was mainly of the young squaw, of
+the old crippled-up squaw-man, and that she was of a beauty to set men’s
+heads a-whirling and make them murder each other for her possession.
+
+Men meeting each other on the trails asked three questions in order:
+
+“Where you traveling? How’s your tobacco? Heard about the beaut’ of a
+little squaw down to Fifty Mile?”
+
+Men travelling in the direction of the settlements bent their steps
+toward Fifty Mile, even though it lay far out of their course. Men
+travelling in the opposite direction passed the news to all whom they
+bespoke. Of those who came to the settlement, many strolled casually up
+the gully where the squaw-man had his camp. And all of them strolled
+down again with nothing to brag about but a drink of hooch and a
+mouthful of talk with the squaw-man.
+
+“I don’t quite follow that gent’s curves,” summed up Jack Raftery,
+speaking for the gang. “He gets enough hooch here to keep any human gent
+laid out twenty-six hours out of the twenty-four, but somehow whenever
+you come moseying up to his camp he’s on his pins, ready to give you a
+drink and a lot of locoed talk. Yessir, he sure is locoed until he needs
+a guardian, but for one I don’t go to do no rushing of his lady-folks,
+not while he’s able to stand on his pins and keep his eyes moving.
+Gents, there’s been one awful stiff man in his day, and his condition
+goes to show what booze’ll do to the best of ’em, and ought to be a
+warning to us all. Line up, men; ’bout third drink time for me.”
+
+“There is sometheeng about heem,” agreed Black Pete, “I don’t know what
+‘tees, but there is sometheeng that whispairs to me, ‘Look out!’”
+
+While Fifty Mile thus debated his character, Reivers lay in his tepee,
+carefully playing the shameful part he had assumed. He knew that by now
+the news of his arrival, or rather the arrival of Neopa and Tillie, had
+been bruited far and wide around the settlements. Soon the news must
+come to the ears of the man for whose benefit the scheme had been
+arranged.
+
+Shanty Moir, being what he was, would become interested when he heard
+the descriptions of Neopa, and, also because he was what he was, he
+would waste no time, falter at no risks, stop at nothing when his
+interest had been aroused. Reivers had only to wait. Moir would come.
+The only danger was that Hattie and her uncle might come before him.
+
+On the third day after the squaw-man’s arrival, Fifty Mile had a second
+sensation. That morning, as Reivers, staggering artistically, came out
+of Raftery’s house of poison, he all but stumbled over a sledge before
+the door. With his assumed grin of idiocy growing wider, he examined the
+sledge carefully, next the team which was hitched to it, then lifted his
+eyes to the man and woman that stood beside the outfit. At the first
+glance he had recognised the sledge, and he needed the time thus gained
+to recover from the shock.
+
+“Hello, Mac, ol’ timer!” he bellowed drunkenly at Duncan MacGregor.
+“Come have a drink with me.”
+
+MacGregor looked at him dourly, disgust and anger on his big red face.
+Hattie, at his side, looked away, her lips pressed tightly together to
+control the anger rising within her. She had gone deadly pale at the
+first sight of Reivers; now the red of shame was burning in her cheeks.
+
+“I shook hands with you, stranger, when you left our roof,” said
+MacGregor gruffly. “I do not do so now. I thought you were a man.”
+
+“I never did!” snapped Hattie, still looking away. “I knew it was not a
+man.” Something like a sob seemed to wrench itself from her chest in
+spite of her firm lips. “I knew it was—just what it is.”
+
+Suddenly she flared around on Reivers, her face wan with mingled pain,
+shame and anger.
+
+“Now you are doing just what you are fit for. I’ve heard. Living on your
+squaws! And you dared to talk big to me—to a decent woman. Blood of my
+father! You dared to talk to me at all! Drive on, Uncle. We’ll go on to
+Dumont’s. We’ll get away from this thing; it pollutes the air. Hi-yah,
+Bones! Mush, mush, mush!”
+
+Reivers leered and grinned foolishly—for the benefit of the onlookers—as
+the sledge went on out of sight.
+
+“See?” he said boastfully. “I used to know white folks once. Yes sir;
+used to know lot of ’em. Don’t now. Only know Indians. S’long, boys; got
+to go home.”
+
+All that day he sat alone in his tepee. Tillie came to him at noon with
+food and he cursed her and drove her away. In the evening she came to
+him again, and again Reivers ordered her not to lift the flap on his
+tepee.
+
+Tillie by this time was fully convinced that the Snow-Burner had gone
+mad. Else why had he repulsed all her advances? Why had he refused to
+look at the young and attractive Neopa? And now he even spurned food.
+Yes, the Snow-Burner had gone mad, as white men sometimes go mad in the
+North; but she was still his slave. That was her fate.
+
+Reivers sat alone in his tepee, once more fighting to put away the face
+of Hattie MacGregor as it rode before his eyes, a burning, searing
+memory. He was not faltering. The shame for him, because he was a white
+man, because she had once had him under her roof, that Hattie MacGregor
+had suffered as she saw him now, did not swerve him in the least from
+the way he was going.
+
+He had decided to do it this way. That was settled. The shame and
+degradation of his assumed position he had reckoned and counted as
+naught in the game he was playing. Any means to an end. These same men
+who were despising him for a sodden squaw-man would bow their heads to
+him when the game was won. And he would win it, the memory of the face
+of Hattie MacGregor would not halt him in the least. Rather it would
+spur him on. For when the game was won, he would laugh at her—and
+forget.
+
+For the present it was a little hard to forget. That was why he sat
+alone in the tepee and swore at Tillie when she timidly offered to bring
+him food.
+
+So the red-headed girl thought that of him, did she—that he was living
+on his squaws? Well, let her think it. What difference did it make? She
+thought he was that base, did she? All right. She would pay for it all
+when the time came.
+
+Reivers roused himself and strode outdoors. His thoughts persisted in
+including Hattie MacGregor in their ramblings as he sat in the tepee,
+and he felt oppressed. What he needed was to mingle with other men. He’d
+forget, then. He condemned the company that was to be found at
+Raftery’s, but his need for distraction drove him and, assuming the
+stoop, limp and leer of the sodden squaw-man, he slumped off down the
+gully to the settlement.
+
+It was a clear, starlit night, and as he slumped along he mused on what
+a fine night it would be for picking out a trail by the stars. As he
+approached Raftery’s he saw and heard evidences of unusual activity in
+the bar. A team of eight dogs, hitched to an empty sledge, was tied
+before the door. Within there was sound of riot and wassail. Over the
+sound of laughter and shuffling feet rose a voice which drowned the
+other noises as the roar of a lion drowns the chirping of birds, a voice
+that rattled the windows in a terrifying rendition of “Jack Hall.”
+
+    Oh, I killed a man ’tis said, so ’tis said;
+    I killed a man ’tis said, so ’tis said.
+    I kicked ‘is bloody head, an’ I left ‘im lyin’ dead;
+    Yes, I left ‘im lyin’ dead —— ’is eyes!
+
+Reivers opened the door and strode in silently and unobserved. He made a
+base, contemptible figure as, stooped and shuffling, a foolish leer on
+his face, he stood listening apologetically to the song. The broad back
+of the singer was turned toward him. As the song ended Raftery’s roaming
+eye caught sight of Reivers.
+
+“Ah, there he is; here he is, Iron Hair. There’s the man with the squaws
+I was telling you about.”
+
+The man swung around, and Reivers was face to face with the man he
+sought, Shanty Moir.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII—SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers’ tumultuous scheme of life often had led him into situations
+where his life had hung on his ability to play artistically the part he
+had assumed. But never had his self-control been put to such a test as
+now, when he faced Shanty Moir.
+
+Had he not prepared himself for a shock, his surprise must surely have
+betrayed him, for even the Snow-Burner could not look upon Shanty Moir
+without amazement. To Reivers, the first impression that came was that
+he was looking at something as raw and primitive as the sources of life
+itself.
+
+Shanty Moir had little or nothing in common with the other men in the
+room. He was even shaped differently. He belonged, so it seemed to
+Reivers, to the age of the saber-tooth tiger, the long-haired mammoth,
+and a diet of roots and raw flesh.
+
+There was about him the suggestion of man just risen to the dignity of
+an upright position. His body was enormous—longer, wider, denser than a
+man’s body should be; the legs beneath it short and bowed. There was no
+neck that could be seen. His arms seemed to begin close up to the ears,
+and ran downward in curves, like giant calipers, the hands even with the
+knees.
+
+The head fitted the body, squat and enormous, the forehead running
+abruptly back from the brows, and the face so flat and bony that the
+features seemed merely to dent it. The brow-bones came down and half hid
+the small eyes; the nose was small, but a pair of great nostrils ran
+back in the skull; the mouth was huge, yet it seemed small, and there
+was more of the head below it than above.
+
+Iron Hair was well nicknamed. His hair was probably three inches long,
+and it stood out straight from his head—black, wiry, menacing. Reivers,
+with his foolish grin growing larger on his face, appraised Moir with
+considerable admiration. Here was the real thing, the pure,
+unadulterated man-animal, unweakened, untouched by effeminising
+civilisation. This man knew no more law or conscience than the ancient
+cave-tiger, whose only dictates sprang from appetite.
+
+Reivers had rejected morals because it pleased him to run contrary to
+all the rest of the world; this man never knew that right or wrong
+existed. What his appetites told him to take he took as a matter of
+course. And it was written in his face that his appetites were as
+abnormally powerful as was he.
+
+Reivers had been a leader of men because his mind was stronger than the
+minds of the men with whom he had dealt. This man was a leader because
+of the blind, unintelligent force that was in him. And inwardly the
+fighting man in Reivers glowed at the prospects of the Titanic clash
+that would come between them.
+
+Shanty Moir as he looked from under his bony brows saw exactly what
+Reivers wished him to see: a drunken broken squaw-man, so weak that he
+could not possibly be the slightest source of trouble. Being primitive
+of mind he listed Reivers at once as helpless. Having done this, nothing
+could alter his opinion; and Reivers had gained the vantage that he
+sought.
+
+Moir threw back his head and laughed, softly and behind set teeth, when
+his quick inspection of Reivers was ended.
+
+“So that’s tuh waster who’s got tuh squaws ‘at hass tuh camp upset,” he
+said languidly. “Eh, sonnies! Art no men among ye that ye have not gone
+woman-stealing by this? Tuh waster does not look hard to take a young
+woman from.”
+
+Reivers broke into an apologetic snigger.
+
+“Don’t you try to steal my two kids, mister,” he whined. “You’d be
+mighty sorry for your bargain if you did.”
+
+“How so, old son?” demanded Moir with a tolerant laugh.
+
+“Them kids—if you was to steal them without my permission—one or both of
+’em—they’d make you wish you’d never seen ’em—‘less I was along,”
+chuckled Reivers.
+
+“Speak it up, old son,” said Moir sharply. “What’s behind thy fool’s
+words?”
+
+“Them kids—they’d die if they was took away from me,” replied Reivers
+seriously. “And they’d take the man who stole ’em to the happy hunting
+ground along with ’em.” He winked prodigiously. “Lots of funny things in
+this ol’ world, mister. You wouldn’t think to look at me that those two
+kids wouldn’t want to live if I wasn’t with ’em, but that’s the fact. I
+wasn’t always what I’m now, mister. Once—well, I was different once—and
+them kids will just nacherlly manage to poison the first man who touches
+’em—unless I give the word.”
+
+The men of Fifty Mile looked at one another, and Black Pete shuddered.
+
+“The ol’ moocher sure has got ’em trained, Iron Hair,” said Raftery.
+“He’s locoed, but those squaws look up to him like a little tin god, and
+that’s no lie.”
+
+“Poison?” repeated Moir doubtingly. “Art a medicine man, old son?”
+
+Reivers shook his head loosely.
+
+“Not me, mister, not me,” he chuckled. “It’s something Indian that I
+don’t sabbe. But there’s a couple graves ’way up where we came from, and
+they hold what’s left of a couple of bad men who raided my camp and
+stole my kids. I don’t know how it happened, mister. The kids come back
+to me the same night, and the two bad men were stiff and black—as black
+as your hair, mister, after the first kiss.”
+
+“The kiss of Death,” chimed in Black Pete, crossing himself. “I have
+heard of eet. Sacré! I am the lucky dog, moi.”
+
+Shanty Moir nodded. He, too, had heard of the method by which Indian
+women of the North on rare occasions revenge themselves upon the brutal
+white men who steal them from their people. Having often indulged in
+that thrilling sport himself, Moir was well versed in the obstacles and
+dangers to be met in its pursuit. Being crafty, with the craft of the
+lynx that eschews the poisoned deer carcass, he had thus far managed to
+select his victims from the breed of squaws that do not seriously object
+to playing a Sabine part; and he had no intention of decreasing his
+caution now, although what men had spoken of Neopa had fired his blood.
+
+“Ho, ho! I see how ’tis, old son,” he said with a grin of appreciation.
+“Dost manage well for a waster.”
+
+He suddenly drew his hand from his mackinaw pocket and held it out,
+opened, toward Reivers. Two jagged nuggets of dull gold the size of big
+buckshot jiggled on his palm, and Moir laughed uproariously as Reivers,
+at the sight of them, bent forward, rubbing his hands together,
+apparently frantic with avarice.
+
+“Eh—hey!” drawled Moir, closing his fist as Reivers’ fingers reached for
+the gold. “I thought so. ’Tis tub gold thy wants, eh, old sonny? Well,
+do thee bring me tuh cattle to look at and we’ll try to bargain.”
+
+“Come up to my camp,” chattered Reivers, eying the fist that contained
+the nuggets. He was anxious to get out of the bar. He had no fear that
+the primitive Moir would be able to see any flaw in his acting, but
+Black Pete and Jack Raftery were less primitive, and he knew that they
+had not quite accepted him for the weakling that he pretended to be.
+“Come and visit me. Buy a bottle of hooch and we go up to my camp.”
+
+Moir tossed one of the nuggets across the bar to Raftery.
+
+“Is’t good for a round, lad?” he laughed.
+
+Raftery cunningly hefted the nugget and set out the bottles.
+
+“Good for two,” he replied.
+
+Moir tossed over the second nugget.
+
+“Then that’s good for four,” said he. “Do ye boys drink it up while I’m
+away to tuh camp of old sonny here. A bottle, Raftery. Now, sonny, do
+thee lead on, and if I’m not satisfied I’ll wring thy neck to let thee
+know my displeasure.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV—THE BARGAIN
+
+
+Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir wait a moment by the
+fire, while he spoke to Tillie. “Dress yourself and Neopa in your
+newest,” he commanded. “Then do you both come in to me, bringing food
+for two men.”
+
+“What’s wrong, sonny?” laughed Moir, seeing Reivers come under the door
+flap alone. “Hast lost the whip over thy cattle?”
+
+“They’re getting some grub ready,” replied Reivers fawningly. “They’ll
+be here in a minute. Let’s have a drink out of that bottle, mister.
+That’s the stuff.”
+
+He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the burning liquor in a
+fashion that made even Moir open his eyes in admiration.
+
+“Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster, sonny,” he chuckled, and
+measuring with his fingers on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers’ he
+tossed it gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the bottle from
+his hand.
+
+“I always take an eye-opener before my real drink,” said Reivers, and,
+measuring off twice the amount that Moir had taken, he drank it off like
+so much water.
+
+The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild stimulant. On his
+abnormal organisation it merely had the effect of intensifying his
+characteristics. When he wished to drink whisky he drank—out of
+full-sized water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put liquor
+from him with contempt. Now he handed the bottle back to Moir. The
+latter looked at him and at the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not
+dismayed. Reivers had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to
+him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any man in a
+drinking bout.
+
+“Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, sonny,” said Moir, and
+finished the bottle.
+
+“No more?” muttered Reivers vacantly.
+
+“Gallons!” replied Moir. “Whisky enough to drown you dead—if your women
+satisfy.”
+
+“Look at them,” said Reivers as the door-flap was flung back. “Here they
+are.”
+
+Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, her hair
+hanging in two thick braids down her shoulders. Neopa followed, and the
+wistfulness that had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made her
+the more interesting in Shanty Moir’s eyes.
+
+A glance from Neopa’s fawn-like eyes at the big man whom Reivers had
+brought home with him, and then her eyes sought the ground and she
+trembled. Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the Snow-Burner,
+she had never seen so masterful a man. She looked at Reivers and saw
+that he was not watching her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the
+Snow-Burner’s slave; his will was her law. But since he refused to
+notice her smiles it would do no harm to smile upon a man like this Iron
+Hair—just a little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking.
+
+Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to Reivers.
+
+“Take the young one outside for two minutes. I’ve a word to say to this
+one.”
+
+To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust Neopa out before him,
+and dropped the flap.
+
+“Listen,” whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue to Tillie, “we will
+put his man out of the way. It is easily done. Then you will go with me,
+you and the young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the young
+one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be on the trail in an hour.”
+
+Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head.
+
+“The Snow-Burner is the master,” she said seriously. “I will slay the
+man who does him harm. I can not do what he does not wish. I can not go
+away from him.”
+
+“But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish.”
+
+The smile went from Tillie’s full lips and she took a step toward the
+opening.
+
+“Stop,” laughed Moir softly. “I merely wished to know if you are a true
+woman. All right, old sonny!” he called. “Come on in.”
+
+“I takest off cap to you, lad,” he continued as Reivers and Neopa
+re-entered. “Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed.” His eyes ran over the
+shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. “Now, old sonny, out with it. What’s
+thy idea of tuh bargain?”
+
+Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.
+
+“Said enough,” laughed Moir. “Shall have all tuh hooch thy guts can
+hold.”
+
+Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
+
+“Hooch is good,” said he, “but gold is better.”
+
+“Go on,” said Moir sullenly.
+
+“You’ve got gold,” continued Reivers. “I saw it. You’ve got lots of
+gold; I’ve heard them talk about you down at Raftery’s. You want us to
+go with you when you go back to your camp, don’t you?”
+
+Moir nodded angrily.
+
+“I want the women,” he said brutally. “I might be able to use you, too.”
+
+Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.
+
+“You’ve got to use me if you’re going to have the women,” he chuckled.
+“You know that by this time, don’t you, mister?”
+
+Again Moir’s black head nodded in grudging assent.
+
+“What then?” he demanded.
+
+“I’m a handy man around a camp, mister,” whined Reivers. “You got to
+take me along if you take the women, but I can be a help——”
+
+“Canst cook?” snapped Moir suddenly.
+
+“Heh, heh! Can I cook?” Reivers rubbed his hands. “I’m an old—I used to
+be an old sour-dough, mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who
+couldn’t cook?”
+
+“Might use thee then,” said Moir. “My fool of a cook has gone. Sent him
+after a woman for me, and he hasn’t come back. Happen he got himself
+killed, tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up without tuh
+woman. Well, then, if that’s settled—what’s tuh bargain?”
+
+Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In reality the situation
+was very clear to him. Moir had listed him as a weakling; therefore he
+had no fear of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would be
+confident of winning the loyalty of the two women from their apparently
+helpless master. And as it was apparent that the man whom Reivers had
+slain with a rock had been Moir’s cook, it was probable that he was
+sincere in his offer to use Reivers in that capacity.
+
+“In the Spring,” said Reivers in reply to Moir’s question, “me and my
+two kids go north again, back among their own people.”
+
+“In the Spring,” growled Moir, “canst go to —— for all of me. I’ll be
+travelling then myself. Speak out, sonny. How much?”
+
+“Plenty of hooch for me all Winter,” Reivers leered with drunken
+cunning.
+
+“I said plenty,” retorted Moir. “What else?”
+
+“Gold,” said Reivers, rubbing his hands. “Gold enough to buy me hooch
+for all next Summer.”
+
+Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he was dealing with. His
+eyes ran over the plump Tillie, over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
+
+“Done,” he laughed. “And now, old son, break up thy camp while I load my
+sledge with hooch. Be ready to travel when I come back. I’ll bring
+plenty of liquor, but none to be drinked till we’re on the trail. Wilt
+travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But willst have a snug berth
+in my camp when we get there. Yes,” he laughed as he hurried out, “wilt
+not be able to tear thyself away.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV—THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE
+
+
+Under Reivers’ sharp orders—given in a way that would have startled Moir
+had he heard—Tillie and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges with
+their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked them to the traces.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Neopa timidly, “do we go back to Nawa?”
+
+“In good time,” said Reivers. “For the present, you have only to obey my
+wishes. Get on the first sledge.”
+
+With bowed head the girl took the place directed, and Reivers turned to
+find Tillie smiling craftily at his elbow.
+
+“Snow-Burner,” she said softly, “this is the man, Iron Hair, who digs
+the gold which you want. We go to rob him. I understand. You play at
+drinking to fool Iron Hair. It is well. Tillie will help the
+Snow-Burner. We will kill Iron Hair and take his gold. Then the
+Snow-Burner will come with Tillie to her tepee?”
+
+Reivers looked at her, and for the first time he felt a revulsion
+against the base part he was playing. Would he return with Tillie to her
+tepee when this affair was over? Would he go on with his old way of
+living, the base part of him triumphant over the better self? The
+strange questions rapped like trip-hammers on Reivers’ conscience.
+
+“Get on the sledge!” he growled, choked with anger.
+
+She did not stir. He struck her cruelly. Tillie smiled. That was like
+the Snow-Burner of old; and she waddled to her appointed place without
+further question.
+
+Up the gulch from Raftery’s came Moir quietly leading his dogs, the
+sledge well loaded with cases of liquor.
+
+“Wilt have a kiss first of all,” he laughed excitedly, and catching
+Neopa in his arms tossed her in the air, kissed her loudly on her
+averted cheeks and set her back on the sledge. “Now, old son, follow and
+follow quietly. When Iron Hair travels he wants no Fifty Mile gang on
+his trail. Say nothing, but keep me in sight. Heyah, mush, mush!”
+
+Out of the gully he led the way swiftly and silently to the open country
+beyond the settlement. There he circled in a confusing way, bearing
+northward. After an hour he began circling again, doubling on his trail
+to make it hard for any one to follow, but finally Reivers knew by the
+stars that the course lay to the south. Another series of false twists
+in the trail, then Moir struck out in determined fashion on a straight
+course, east and a trifle south from Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers, silently guiding his dogs in the tracks made by Moir, breathed
+hard as he read the stars. By the pace that Moir was setting it seemed
+certain that he now was making for his camp in a direct line. But if so,
+if this trail were held, it would take them back toward the Dead Lands,
+straight into the country that was Duncan MacGregor’s trapping-ground.
+Could the mine be in that region. If so, how could it have escaped the
+notice of the old trapper?
+
+It was well past midnight when Reivers saw the team ahead disappear in a
+depression in the ground and heard Moir’s voice loudly calling a halt.
+By the time Reivers came up with his two sledges Moir had unhitched his
+dogs on the flat of a frozen river-bed and was hurriedly dragging a
+bottle from one of the cases on his sledge.
+
+“Hell’s fire, old son; unhook and camp. The liquor’s dying in me, and I
+had just begun to feel good.”
+
+“I was wondering,” gasped Reivers in assumed exhaustion. “I was
+wondering how much farther you were going before you opened a bottle.”
+
+“Have your squaws get out tuh grub,” ordered Moir, jamming down the
+cork. “And now you ‘n’ me, wilt see who drinks t’other off his feet.”
+
+For reply Reivers promptly gulped down a drink that would have strangled
+most men.
+
+“Good enough,” admitted Moir. “Here’s better, though.” And he instantly
+improved on Reivers’ record.
+
+The first bottle was soon emptied—a quart of raw, fiery hooch—and a
+second instantly broached.
+
+The food was forgotten by Moir; the women were forgotten. His primitive
+mind was obsessed with the idea of pouring more burning poison down his
+throat than this broken-down waster who dared to drink up to him. Bolt
+upright he sat, laughing and singing, never taking his eyes off Reivers,
+while drink after drink disappeared down their throats.
+
+No movement of Reivers escaped Moir’s vigilant watch for signs of
+weakness. As Reivers gave no apparent sign of toppling over he grew
+enraged.
+
+“Hell’s fire! Wilt sit here till daylight if thou wilt,” he roared.
+“Drink on there! ’Tis thy turn.”
+
+Tillie and Neopa got food ready from the grub-bag and sat waiting
+patiently; the dogs ceased moving, bedded down in the snow and went to
+sleep; and still the contest went on.
+
+Finally Reivers discerned the slight thickening of speech and the glassy
+stare in his opponent’s eyes that he had been waiting for. Then, and not
+until then, did he begin to betray apparent signs of failing.
+
+“Sh-sh-shtrong liquor, m-m-mishter,” he stuttered. “Awful sh-sh-shtrong
+liquor.”
+
+Moir cackled in drunken triumph.
+
+“’Tish bear’s milk, old shon. ’Tish made for men. Drink, —— ye, drink
+again!”
+
+Reivers drank, drank longer and heavier than he had yet done.
+
+“There; take the mate of that, mister, and you’ll know you been
+drinking,” he stammered.
+
+Moir’s throat by this time had been burned too raw to taste, and his
+sight was too dulled to measure quantities. He tipped the bottle up and
+drained it. The dose would have killed a normal man. To Shanty Moir it
+brought only an inclination to slumber. His head fell forward on his
+breast.
+
+With a thick-tongued snarl he sat up straight and looked at Reivers.
+Reivers hiccoughed, swayed in his seat, and collapsed with a drunken
+clatter.
+
+Moir smiled. He winked in unobserved triumph. Then the superhuman
+strength with which he had fought off the effects of the liquor snapped
+like a broken wire, and he pitched forward on his face into the snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI—THE SNOW-BURNER BEGINS TO WEAKEN
+
+
+Reivers stood up, looked down at his fallen rival and yawned.
+
+“Body,” he mused, “but for a hard head, there lies you.”
+
+He bent cautiously over Moir. The Welshman lay with his face half buried
+in the crusted snow, his lungs pumping like huge bellows, and the snow
+flying in gusts from around his nostrils at every expulsion of breath.
+Reivers laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. There was no movement.
+
+“Hey, mister,” he called.
+
+The undisturbed breathing showed that the words had not penetrated to
+the clouded consciousness. Deliberately Reivers turned the big man over
+on his back. Moir lay as stiff and dead as a log. With swift, deft hands
+Reivers searched him to the skin, looking for a trail-map, a mark or a
+sign of any kind that might indicate the location of Moir’s mine. He was
+not greatly disappointed when he failed to find anything of the sort; he
+had hardly expected that an experienced pirate like Shanty Moir would
+travel with his secrets on his person.
+
+Next he considered the dogs. It was barely possible that the dogs knew
+the way to the mine. If they had travelled the way before, they would
+know when they were on the home-trail, and if so they would travel
+thither if given their heads, even though their master lay helplessly
+bound on the sledge. Then at the mine, a sudden surprise, and probably a
+second of sharp work with the rifle on Moir’s henchmen.
+
+Reivers stepped eagerly over to where Moir’s team lay sleeping. He swore
+softly when he saw them. Moir had traded his tired team for a fresh
+outfit at Fifty Mile, and the new dogs were as strange to this trail as
+Reivers himself.
+
+His triumph over Moir in the drinking bout had been in vain. There was
+no march to be stolen, even with Moir lying helpless on the snow. He
+would have to go through with it as he had planned. Tillie and Neopa
+must be the means by which he would obtain his ends.
+
+He suddenly looked over to the sledge where the two women were patiently
+waiting with the food they had prepared. Tillie, squat and stolid, was
+sitting as impassive and content as a bronze figure at the door of the
+shelter tepee which she had erected, but Neopa sat bowed over on the end
+of the sledge, her head on her folded arms, her slim figure shaking with
+silent sobs.
+
+“Put back the food and go to your blankets,” he commanded harshly. “Stop
+that whining, girl, or you will have something to whine for.”
+
+He waited until his orders had been obeyed and the women were in the
+tepee. Then he unrolled his blanket and lay down on the snow.
+
+He did not sleep. He knew that he would not. For all through the day,
+during his dealing with Moir, on the night trail under the clean stars,
+his mind had been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in
+running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit night, with nothing
+to occupy him, the picture rushed into being, vivid and living. He could
+not shut it out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of Hattie
+MacGregor as he had seen her that morning with the pain and scorn upon
+her young, fine face. Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as
+clear as if she stood by his side:
+
+“I knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws! And you dared to talk
+to me—a decent woman!”
+
+Reivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the white stars. From the
+tepee there came a sound that brought him up sitting. He listened,
+amazed and puzzled. It was Neopa sobbing because she had been torn from
+her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint of her pain-racked tones there
+was something which recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of
+Hattie MacGregor.
+
+It was probably an hour after he had lain down that Reivers rose up and
+quietly hooked his strongest dogs to a sledge.
+
+“Tillie! Neopa! Come out!” he whispered, throwing open the flap of the
+little tepee.
+
+Neopa came, wet-faced and haggard, her wide-open eyes showing plainly
+that there had been no sleep for her that night. Tillie was rubbing her
+eyes sleepily, protesting against being wakened from comfortable
+slumber.
+
+Reivers pointed northward up the river bed.
+
+“Up there, on this river, one day’s march away, is the camp of your
+people, which we came from,” he whispered. “Do you both take this team
+and drive rapidly thither. Hold to the river-bed and keep away from the
+black spots where the water shows through the snow. Do not stop to rest
+or feed. You should reach your people in the middle of the afternoon.
+Then do you give Nawa this rifle. Tell him to shoot any white man who
+comes after you. Now go swiftly.”
+
+Neopa looked at him with her fawn-like eyes large with incredibility and
+hope.
+
+“Snow-Burner! Do you let me go back to Nawa?” she whispered.
+
+“Get on the sledge,” he commanded. “Do as I’ve told you, or you’ll hear
+from me.”
+
+As emotion had all but paralysed the young girl he forced her to a seat
+on the sledge and thrust the whip into her hand, then turned to Tillie.
+Tillie was making no move to approach the sledge.
+
+“Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.
+
+Tillie smiled strangely.
+
+“Has the Snow-Burner become afraid of Iron Hair?” she asked.
+
+“So little afraid that I no longer need you to help me in this matter,”
+retorted Reivers.
+
+The shrewd squaw shook her head.
+
+“How will the Snow-Burner find Iron Hair’s gold how? Iron Hair will not
+take the Snow-Burner to his camp alone. It is not the Snow-Burner that
+Iron Hair wants. It is a woman. Has the Snow-Burner given up the fight
+to get the gold which he wants so much? He knows he can not reach Iron
+Hair’s camp—alone.”
+
+“Then I will not reach it at all. Get on the sledge.”
+
+Tillie smiled but did not move.
+
+“The Snow-Burner at last has become like other white men. He wishes to
+do what is right.” She pointed at the snoring Moir. “He would not be so
+weak.”
+
+While Reivers looked at her in amazement the squaw stepped forward,
+straightened out the dogs, kicked them viciously and sent the sledge,
+bearing Neopa alone, flying up the river-bed.
+
+“To send Neopa back to Nawa is well and good,” she said, returning to
+Reivers. “She would weep for Nawa all day and night, and would grow sick
+and die on our hands. But there is no Nawa waiting for Tillie. Tillie is
+tired of her tepee with no man in it. Iron Hair has smiled upon me,
+Snow-Burner. I will smile upon him. His smile will answer mine as the
+dry pine lights up when the match is touched to it. I have looked in his
+eyes and know. He will forget Neopa. Tillie will help the Snow-Burner
+rob Iron Hair. Is it well?”
+
+“Get back to your blankets,” commanded Reivers. “If you wish it, we will
+let it be so. Sleep long. Do not stir until you hear that Iron Hair has
+awakened.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII—INTO THE JAWS OF THE BEAR
+
+
+Shanty Moir stirred when the first rays of the morning sun, glancing off
+the snow, struck his eyes. He rose like a musk-ox lifting itself from
+its snow wallow, with mighty heaves and grunts, and looked around.
+
+He was blear-eyed and puffed of face, his throat was raw and burning
+from the unbelievable amount of hooch he had swallowed in the night, but
+his abnormal organisation had thrown off the effects of the alcohol and
+he was cold sober. His first move was to cool his throat with handfuls
+of snow, his second to step over and regard the apparently paralysed
+Reivers with a look of mingled triumph and contempt.
+
+“Eh, old sonny! Would a drinked with Shanty Moir, wouldst ’ee?” he
+chuckled. “Happen thee got thy old soak’s skin filled to overflow that
+time. Get up, you waster!” he commanded, stirring the prostrate form
+with a heavy foot “Up with you!”
+
+Reivers did not stir, but he put that touch of the foot down as
+something extra that Moir would have to pay for. He was apparently lying
+steeped in the depths of drunken slumber, and he wished to drive the
+impression firmly into Shanty Moir’s mind that he had been dead to the
+world all night. Hence he did not interrupt his snoring as Moir’s foot
+touched him.
+
+“Laid out stiff!” laughed Moir.
+
+He reached down, lifted Reivers’ head from the snow and let it fall
+heavily. Still Reivers made no sign of awakening. Moir looked at him for
+a moment, then slily tiptoed toward the shelter tepee and threw up the
+flap. The next instant a bellow of rage shattered the morning quiet.
+Like a maddened bear Moir was back at Reivers, cuffing, kicking,
+cursing, commanding that he wake up.
+
+Reivers awoke only in degree. Not until Moir had opened a new bottle of
+hooch and poured a drink down his throat did he essay to sit up and open
+his eyes.
+
+“Wha’ smatter? Can’t a man shleep?” he protested. “Wha’ smatter with
+you?”
+
+“Matter!” bellowed Moir. “Plenty of matter, you old waster. Where’s the
+young lass, eh? Where’s the girl gone? Look in the tepee and see what’s
+the matter. You told me you had the trulls buffaloed. What’s become of
+the young girl?”
+
+It was some time before Reivers appeared to understand. Finally he
+stumbled to his feet and started toward the tent, met Tillie as she
+stepped out rubbing her eyes, and recoiled drunkenly.
+
+“Neopa? Where is she?” muttered Tillie. “She slept near the door. Now
+she is gone.”
+
+She had let her shiny black hair fall loosely over her shoulders and now
+she threw it back, looked straight at Moir and smiled.
+
+“Neopa gone?” demanded Reivers thickly. “She can’t be; she wouldn’t
+dare.”
+
+“Dare, you fool? Look there.” Moir pointed to the hollows where the
+missing dog team had lain and to the tracks that ran straight and true
+up the river bed. “She’s run away. Been gone half a night. Well, what
+have you got to say?”
+
+Reivers turned with a scowl on Tillie, but Tillie was comfortably
+plaiting her thick hair.
+
+“Neopa has run away—back to our people,” she said with a smile, as she
+turned back into the tepee. “Tillie does not run away,” she added as she
+disappeared.
+
+Moir sat down on a sledge and cursed Reivers steadily for five minutes,
+but at every few words his eyes would stray back to the tepee which hid
+Tillie.
+
+“We’ll go after her,” said Reivers. “We’ll bring her back.”
+
+“Go after her!” snorted Moir. “She has half a night’s start on us.
+She’ll reach her people before we could get her. Do you think I want
+half the country following my trail.”
+
+“I’ll go after her alone then,” insisted Reivers.
+
+“Will you?” Moir’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I think not. Let me tell
+thee something, old son: he who goes this far on the home trail with
+Shanty Moir goes all the way. Understand? You’ll come with me or you’ll
+be wolf-meat out here on the snow. No; there’ll be no following of that
+kid. She’s gone. The other one’s here. There is no telling what tale the
+kid will spin when she meets people, or who will be down here looking
+for our trail. Therefore we are going to travel and travel quick. Have
+the squaw get food in a hurry. Get your dogs together. We’ll be on the
+trail in half an hour.”
+
+Moir was masterful and dominant now. It was evident that he was more
+worried over the possibility of some one hearing of his whereabouts
+through Neopa than he was over the girl’s escape. He gave Reivers a
+second drink of liquor, since he seemed to need it to fully awaken him,
+and set about making ready for the trail.
+
+“Eat plenty,” he commanded, when Tilly served the cold meat and tea.
+“The next meal you have will be about sundown.”
+
+He tore down the tepee, packed the sledges and had the outfit ready for
+the start in an amazingly short while.
+
+“Now, old son,” he said quietly, pointing to the rifle that lay
+uncovered on top of his sledge, “do ’ee take good look at her. She’s a
+good old Betsy and I’ve knocked o’er smaller men than you at the half
+mile. Do you keep well up with me on the trail I’ll be making this day
+and there’ll be no trouble. Try any tricks and the wolves will have
+whiskey-soaked meat to feed on. There’s no turning back now. He who
+comes this far with Shanty Moir goes all the way.”
+
+“You can’t lose me, mister,” stammered Reivers. “I want that money for
+hooch for next Summer like you promised.”
+
+“Wilt get more than you bargained for, old son,” laughed Moir. “Yes,
+more than you ever dreamed of. Hi-yah! Buck! Bugle! Mush; mush up!”
+
+Moir made no pretence at hiding his trail when he started this time.
+Apparently he reasoned that the damage was done. If any one wished to
+trail him after hearing Neopa’s story they would have no trouble in
+finding his tracks, despite any subterfuge he might attempt. He went
+straight forward, as a man who has nothing to fear if he can but reach
+his fastness, and Reivers’ wonderment grew as the trail held straight
+toward the rising sun.
+
+The course was parallel to the one he had taken westward from
+MacGregor’s cabin to Tillie’s encampment. If it held on as it was going
+it would lead straight into the heart of the Dead Lands, and within half
+a day’s travel of the MacGregor home. Was it possible that the mine lay
+in the Dead Lands? Duncan MacGregor made this territory his
+trapping-ground. How could his brother’s find have escaped his trained
+outdoor eyes?
+
+The next instant Reivers was cursing himself for a blind fool. There was
+no trapping in the Dead Lands. There was no feed there. Except for a
+stray wolf-cave, fur-bearing beasts would shun those barren rocks as a
+desert, and Duncan MacGregor, being a knowing trapper, might trap around
+it twenty years without venturing through after a first fruitless search
+for signs.
+
+The mine was in the Dead Lands, of course. It was as safely hidden there
+as if within the bowels of the earth. And he, Reivers, had probably been
+within shooting distance of it during his two days’ wandering in that
+district. The man whom he had killed with the rock had undoubtedly been
+hurrying with Hattie MacGregor straight to his chief’s fastness.
+
+It was noon when the ragged ground on the horizonhead told Reivers that
+his surmises were correct and that they were hurrying straight for the
+Dead Lands. An hour of travel and the jagged formation of the rock
+country was plainly distinguishable a little over a mile ahead. Then
+Moir for the first time that day called a halt. When Reivers caught up
+with him he saw that Moir held in each hand a small pouch-like
+contrivance of buckskin, pierced near the middle with tiny holes and
+equipped with draw-strings at the bottom.
+
+“Come here, lass,” he beckoned to Tillie. “Must hide that smiling mouth
+of thine for the present.”
+
+With a laugh he threw the pouch over the squaw’s head, pulled the bottom
+tightly around her neck, and tied the strings securely.
+
+“The same with thee, old son,” he said, and treated Reivers in the same
+summary manner. “You see, I do not wish to have to put you away,” he
+explained genially, “and that I would do if by chance thy eyes should
+see the way to Shanty Moir’s mine. One or two men have been unlucky
+enough to see it. They will never be able to tell the tale.” He
+skilfully searched the pair for hidden weapons, but Reivers had expected
+this and carried not so much as a knife. “All right. Keep in my steps,
+old son. Presently thou’ll get wet. Do not fear. Wilt not let ’ee come
+to harm. Neither thee nor tuh squaw. I have use for you both. Come now;
+I’ll go slow.”
+
+The buckskin pouch pierced only by the tiny air-holes, masked Reivers’
+eyes in a fashion that precluded any possible chance of sight. He knew
+instinctively that Moir was turning. First the turn was to the left.
+Then back to the right. Then in a circle, and after that straight ahead.
+
+Presently the feel of a sharp rock underfoot told him that they had
+entered the Dead Lands. He stumbled purposely to one side of the trail
+and bumped squarely against a solid wall of stone. Next he tried it on
+the opposite side with the same result. Moir was leading the way through
+a narrow defile in the rocks.
+
+Suddenly there came to Reivers’ ears the sound of running water, the
+lazy murmur of a small brook. Almost at the same instant came the splash
+of Moir and his dogs going into the stream and Moir’s laughing:
+
+“Wilt get a little wet here, old son. But follow on.”
+
+Fumbling with his feet Reivers found the stream and stepped in. To his
+surprise the water was warm. Warm water? Where had he seen warm water
+recently in this country? His thoughts leaped back with a snap. There
+was only one open stream to be found thereabouts, and that was the brook
+that came from the warm springs by which he had camped on his way to
+Tillie’s.
+
+“Warm water!” laughed Moir. “Wilt find all snug in my camp. Aye, as snug
+as in a well-kept jail.”
+
+The stream was knee-deep, and by the pressure of the water against the
+back of his legs Reivers knew that they were going down-stream.
+Presently Moir spoke again.
+
+“Now, if you value the tops of your heads, do you duck as low as you
+can. Duck now, quick; and do you keep that position till I tell you to
+straighten up.”
+
+Reivers and Tillie ducked obediently. Suddenly the tiny light that had
+come through the air-holes of their masks was shut out. The darkness was
+complete. Reivers thrust his hand above his bowed head and came in
+contact with cold, clammy rock. No wonder it had taken MacGregor and
+Moir two years to find the mine, since the way to it lay by a
+subterranean river!
+
+The light reappeared, but it was not the sunny light that had come
+through the air-holes before they had entered the river tunnel. It was
+grey and dead, as the light in a room where the sunshine does not enter.
+
+“Now you can lift your heads,” laughed Moir. “Come to the right. Up the
+bank. Here we are.”
+
+He jerked Reivers out of the water roughly, and roughly pulled the sack
+from his head. Reivers blinked as the light struck his eyes. Moir
+treated him to a generous kick.
+
+“Welcome,” he hissed menacingly. “Welcome to the camp of Shanty Moir.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII—MACGREGOR ROY
+
+
+Reivers’ first impression was that he was standing in a gigantic
+stockade. The second that he was on the floor of a great quarry-pit.
+Then, when the situation grew clear to him, he stood dumfounded.
+
+The camp of Shanty Moir lay in what would have been a solid rock cave
+but for the lack of a roof. It was an irregular hollow in the strange
+formation of the Dead Lands, perhaps fifty yards long and thirty yards
+wide at its greatest breadth. The hollow was surrounded completely by
+ragged stone walls about fifty feet in height. These walls slanted
+inward to a startling degree. Thus while the floor of the strange spot
+was thirty yards wide, the opening above, through which showed the
+far-away sky, could scarcely have been more than half that width. The
+brook ran through the middle of the chasm, entering the upper end by a
+tunnel five feet in height and disappearing in the solid wall of rock at
+the lower end by a similar opening.
+
+On each side of the narrow stream, and running back to the rock walls,
+was a floor of smooth river-sand. Beneath an overhanging ledge on the
+side where Reivers stood were the rude skin fronts of two dugouts. A tin
+smoke-stack protruded from the larger of the two habitations; the other,
+which was high enough only to admit a man stooping far over, was merely
+a flap of hide hanging down from the rock.
+
+On the beach at the other side of the creek a fire burned beneath a
+great iron pan, the wood smoke filling the chasm with its pungent odour.
+Behind the fire a series of tunnels ran down in the sand under the
+cliffs. From the tunnel immediately behind the fire came a thin spiral
+of sluggish smoke, and Reivers knew that this tunnel was being worked
+and that the fire was being used to thaw the frozen earth.
+
+A man who resembled Moir on a small scale was at work at the
+thawing-pan, breaking the hard earth with his fingers and tossing it
+into a washing-pan at his side. He stood now with a chunk of frozen sand
+in his hand, and at sight of Reivers and Tillie he tossed the sand
+recklessly into the air and whooped.
+
+“Ha! Hast done well this time, Shanty,” he cried in an accent similar to
+theirs. “Hast made tuh life endurable. A new horse for me and a woman
+for ’ee. ’Tis high time. Since Blacky went off and did not come back,
+and tuh two Indians tried to flee, we’ve had but one horse to do with.
+Now wilt have two. Wilt clean up in a hurry now, and live in tuh
+meanwhile.”
+
+Shanty Moir laughed harshly.
+
+“How works tuh old Scot jackass to-day?” he called.
+
+The man across the creek shook his head.
+
+“He’s never tuh horse he was when we first put him in harness,” he
+chuckled. “Fell twice in his tracks to-day, he did, and lay there till
+Joey gave him an inch of tuh prod. Has been a good beastie, the Scot
+has, Shanty, but ’tis in my mind tuh climate does not ‘gree with him.
+Scarce able to pull his load. In tuh mines at home we knocked such worn
+beasties in the head and sent them up o’ tuh pit.”
+
+Moir laughed again.
+
+“Hast a quaint way o’ putting things, Tammy,” he said. “But I mind when
+ponies were scarce we used them till they crawled their knees raw. ’Tis
+plenty o’ time to knock old horse-flesh in tuh head when tuh job’s
+done.”
+
+They laughed together. Evidently this was a well-liked camp joke.
+
+“’Tis a well-coupled animal ’ee have there, Shanty,” said the humourist
+across the water, with a jerk of the head at Reivers. “Big in tuh bone
+and solid around tuh withers. Yon squaw is a solid piece, too. Happen
+they’re broke to pull double?”
+
+“Unbroke stock, Tammy,” drawled Moir leisurely. “Gentleman, squaw-man,
+waster. But breaking stock’s our specialty, eh, Tammy?”
+
+A muffled shout floated up from the mouth of the smoking pit before
+Tammy could reply. Instantly there followed a dull moan of pain: Moir
+and Tommy laughed knowingly.
+
+“Here comes sample of our work,” said Tammy, nodding toward the tunnel.
+“Poor Joey! Has to use tuh prod to start him with each load now.”
+
+A grating, shuffling sound now came from the mouth of the tunnel.
+Following it appeared the head of a man. And Reivers needed only one
+glance at the emaciated countenance to know that he was looking upon the
+father of Hattie MacGregor.
+
+“Giddap, Scotch jackass!” roared Moir in great good humour. “Pull it out
+o’ there. That’s tuh horse. Pull!”
+
+The man came painfully, an inch at a time, out of the pit, and looked
+across the creek at Shanty Moir. Behind him there dragged a rough wooden
+sledge loaded with lumps of earth. The man was hitched to this load by a
+harness of straps that held his arms helpless against his sides. No
+strait-jacket ever held its victim more utterly helpless than the
+contrivance which now held James MacGregor in toils as a beast of
+burden. A contrivance of straps about the ankles held his legs close
+together.
+
+So short were the traces by which the sledge was drawn that MacGregor
+could not have stood upright without having lifted the heavy load a foot
+or more from the ground. He made no attempt to stand so, but hung
+half-bowed against the harness, his eyes gleaming through the matted red
+hair over his brows straight at Shanty Moir.
+
+It was the eyes that drew and held Reivers’ attention to the face,
+rather than to the man’s terrible situation. James MacGregor, helpless
+beast of burden to his tormentors that he was, was not beaten. The same
+clean-cut nose, mouth and chin that Reivers remembered so well in the
+daughter were apparent in the father’s pain-marked face. The eyes
+gleamed defiance. And they were wide and grey, Reivers saw, the same as
+the eyes that haunted him in memory’s pictures of the girl who had not
+feared his glance.
+
+“Shanty Moir,” spoke MacGregor in a voice weak but firm, “when the devil
+made you he cursed his own work. He cursed you as a misbegotten thing
+not fit for hell. The gut-eating wolverine is a brave beast compared to
+you. Skunks would run from your company. You think you have done big
+work. You fool! You cannot rob me of what belongs to me and mine; you
+cannot kill me. As sure as there is a God in Heaven, He will let me or
+mine kill you with bare hands.”
+
+Moir and his man laughed in weary fashion, as if this speech were old to
+them, and Reivers was amazed at an impulse within him to throw himself
+at Shanty Moir’s throat. He joined foolishly in the laughter to hide his
+confusion. What had he to do with such impulses? What business had he
+having any feeling for the poor enslaved man before him? He had come to
+Moir’s camp for one purpose: to get the gold mined there, to get a new
+start in life. Was it possible that he was growing weak enough to
+experience the feeling of pity, the impulse to help the helpless?
+Nonsense! He laughed loudly. His plan was one in which silly impulses of
+this nature had no part, and he would go through with it to the end.
+
+“Well brayed, Scots jackass,” said the man at the thawing-pan casually.
+“Now pull tuh load over here. Giddap-pull!”
+
+MacGregor leaned weakly against the harness, but the sledge had lodged
+and his depleted strength was insufficient to budge it.
+
+“Oh ho! Getting lazy, eh?” came from the tunnel, and a thin-faced man
+came out, a short stick with a sharp brad in his hands. “Want help, eh?
+Well, here ’tis,” he chuckled, and drove the brad into MacGregor’s leg.
+
+Again the strange impulse to leap to the tortured man’s rescue, to kill
+his tormentor without reckoning the price or what might come after,
+stirred itself in Reivers’ breast, and again he joined in the laughter
+to pass it off.
+
+MacGregor started as the iron entered his flesh and the movement
+loosened the sledge. With weak, faltering steps he drew the load
+alongside the fire, where Tammy proceeded to transfer the frozen chunks
+of earth to the thawing-pan.
+
+“Eh, hah! New cattle?” said the man with the prod when he espied Reivers
+and Tillie. “Cow and bull.”
+
+“Cow—and an old ox, Joey,” laughed Moir. “Has even burnt his horns off
+with hooch, and wilt go well in the harness when he’s broke.”
+
+“’Tis time,” said Joey. “Tuh Scots jackass’ll soon drop in his tracks.”
+
+“Not until I’ve paid you out in full, you devils,” said MacGregor
+quietly. “I’ll give you an hour of living hell for every prod you’ve
+given me, you poor cur.”
+
+Joey approached him and unhooked the traces from his harness with an air
+that told how well he was accustomed to such threats.
+
+“Must call it a day, Shanty,” he said, loosening the straps that bound
+MacGregor’s hands so the forearms were free while the upper arms
+remained bound tightly to his sides. “Old pit’s full o’ smoke.” In bored
+sort of fashion he kicked MacGregor into the creek. “To your stable,
+jackass. Day’s done.”
+
+MacGregor, tripped by the traps about his ankles, fell full length in
+the water, floundered across, and crawled miserably out of sight behind
+the skin front of the smaller dugout. Moir and his two henchmen watched
+him, jeering and laughing. At a sign the two on the other side of the
+creek came across and drew close to their chief.
+
+“And now, old son,” snarled Moir, swinging around on Reivers like a
+flash, “now, you slick waster—now we’ll attend to ’ee.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX—JAMES MACGREGOR’S STORY
+
+
+The three men moved forward until they were within arm’s reach of
+Reivers, and stood regarding him with open grins on their hairy faces.
+Reivers, reading the import of their grins, knew that they were bent
+upon enjoying themselves at his expense, and tried swiftly to guess what
+form their amusement might take. If it were only horse-play he would be
+able to continue in the helpless character he had assumed. If it were to
+be rougher than that, if they set out to break him in real earnest, he
+feared that his acting was at an end.
+
+Even for the sake of the gold that he was after he would hardly be able
+to submit, humbly and helplessly as became a drunken squaw-man, to their
+efforts to make a wreck of him. He calculated his chances of coming
+through alive if the situation developed to this extreme, and decided
+that the odds were a trifle too heavy against him.
+
+The element of surprise would be on his side, but his right shoulder
+still was weak from the old bullet-wound. With his terrible ability to
+use his feet he calculated that he could drop Moir and Tammy with broken
+bones as they rushed him. To do that he would have to drop to his back,
+and Joey, the third man, wore a long skinning-knife on his hip. No, if
+he began to fight he would never get what he had come after. He wiped
+his mouth furtively and swayed from the knees up.
+
+“I want some hooch, mister, that’s what I want,” he whined shakily. “You
+promised you’d give me a drink when we got here, you know you did.
+Haven’t had a drop since morning. I wouldn’t ‘a’ come if I’d known you
+were going to treat me like this.”
+
+Then he did the best acting of his life. He jumped sideways and
+shuddered; he frantically plucked imaginary bugs off his coat sleeve; he
+stepped high as if stepping over something on the ground; his eyes and
+face muscles worked spasmodically.
+
+“O-ooh! Gimme a drink,” he begged. “Please gimme a drink. I gotta have
+it.”
+
+The grins faded from the faces before him. They knew full well the signs
+of incipient delirium tremens. Tammy laughed dryly.
+
+“Hast brought home more than an old ox and a cow, Shanty,” he said.
+“Hast brought a whole menagerie. Yon stick’ll have tuh Wullies in a
+minute if he’s not liquored.”
+
+Reivers dropped to his knees, shuddering, his arms shielding his eyes
+from imaginary beasts of the bottle.
+
+“Take ’em away, boys,” he pleaded. “Kill the big ones, let the little
+ones go.”
+
+With a snarl Moir leaped to his sledge and knocked the neck off a bottle
+of hooch.
+
+“Drink, you scut!” he growled. “I’ll have dealings with you when you’re
+sobered up.”
+
+Reivers drank and began to doze. Moir kicked him upright.
+
+“Get into the shed with t’other jackass,” he commanded, propelling him
+toward the dugout into which MacGregor had crawled. “And in tuh morning
+you go to work, e’en though snakes be crawling all o’er ’ee.”
+
+A faintly muttered curse greeted Reivers as he crawled into the dugout.
+
+“You poor curs! What do you want with me now?” came MacGregor’s voice
+from a corner of the tiny room. “You skunk——”
+
+“Easy, MacGregor Roy,” whispered Reivers quietly. “It’s not one of the
+‘skunks.’”
+
+“MacGregor Roy!” By the light that entered by a slit in the skin-flap
+Reivers could see the Scotchman painfully lifting his head from his
+miserable bunk, as he hoarsely repeated his own name. “MacGregor Roy!
+Who are you, stranger, to call James MacGregor by his family name?”
+
+“I’m the man that Shanty Moir brought in this afternoon,” whispered
+Reivers.
+
+“I know, I know,” gasped MacGregor weakly. “But men do not call me
+MacGregor Roy. James MacGregor they call me, unless—unless——”
+
+“Unless they have the ‘Roy’ straight from the lips of your daughter,
+Hattie.”
+
+For a full minute MacGregor sat stricken speechless.
+
+“Man, man! Speak!” The unfortunate man came wriggling over and laid his
+hands pleadingly on Reivers. “Don’t play with me. Is my daughter Hattie
+alive and well?”
+
+“Very much alive,” replied Reivers, “and as well as can be expected of a
+girl who is worrying her heart out over why her father doesn’t return or
+send her word.”
+
+“Have they no’ guessed—has no’ my brother Duncan guessed by this time?”
+gasped MacGregor. “Can not they understand that I must be dead or held
+captive since I do not return? Speak, man, tell me how ’tis with them!”
+
+Reivers waited until the poor man had become more quiet before replying
+to him.
+
+“You’d better quiet down a little MacGregor,” he whispered then. “You
+can’t tell when your friends might be listening, and it wouldn’t do
+either of us any good if they heard what we’re saying.”
+
+“True,” said the old man more quietly. “I’m acting like an old woman.
+But for three months I’ve been trapped like this, and my head fairly
+swims when I hear you speak of Hattie. How come you to know of her?”
+
+Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had been cared for at
+the MacGregor cabin.
+
+“And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to her from the black devil
+they sent to steal her? You must know, man, they taunted me by
+sending——”
+
+“I know,” interrupted Reivers; and he told how he had disposed of the
+kidnapper.
+
+“You—you did that?” MacGregor clutched Reivers’s hand. “You saved my
+little Hattie?”
+
+“None of that,” snapped Reivers, snatching away his hand. “I did nothing
+for your little Hattie. Why should I? What is your Hattie to me? I
+simply put that black-beard out of business because I needed food and he
+had it on the sledge.”
+
+“Yet you’re not one of the gang here—now? You are no’ anything but a
+friend of me and mine?”
+
+“A friend?” sneered Reivers. “I’ll tell you, Mac: I’m here as my own
+friend, absolutely nothing else.”
+
+“But Hattie—and my brother Duncan—they understand about me now.”
+
+“They know you’re either dead or worse,” was the reply. “And they’re at
+Dumont’s Camp now, waiting for Moir to come there on a spree, when they
+expect to trail him back to this camp.”
+
+MacGregor nodded his head weakly.
+
+“Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could be expected. Please
+Heaven, they’ll soon win here. And James MacGregor will not forget what
+he owes you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter, when the time
+of reckoning comes with Moir and his poor curs.”
+
+Reivers laughed coldly under his breath.
+
+“You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man who’s trussed up the
+way you are.”
+
+“God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will with me much longer,”
+said the Scot firmly. “It isna posseeble.”
+
+“‘This dog of a Moir’ must be a better man than you are,” taunted
+Reivers. “He fooled you and trapped you as soon as you’d found this
+mine.”
+
+“Did he?” MacGregor flared up. “Shanty Moir a better man than me? Hoot,
+no! He fooled me, yes, for I didna know that he’d got word to these
+three hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him; he was my
+pardner. And when we returned with proveesions for the Winter the three
+devils were waiting for us, just inside the wall, where the creek comes
+through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha’ done it. The three of them
+jumped on me from above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me.
+
+“They’ve kept me strapped ever since. I’m draft beast for them. Twice a
+day they feed me. And between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing
+before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half mine.”
+
+“Oh, well, it doesn’t look to me as if there’d be enough gold here to
+bother about,” said Reivers casually. “It’s nothing but a little freak
+pocket by the looks of it.”
+
+“So it is. A freak pocket. It could be nothing else in this district.
+’Twas only by chance we found it, exploring the creek in here out of
+curiosity. ’Twas in the bowels of the warm spring up yon, where the
+creek starts, that the pocket was originally. The spring boiled it out
+into the creek, and the creek washed it down here in its bed of sand.
+The sand lodged here, against these rock walls. There’s about a hundred
+feet of the sand, running down under the cliffs, and it’s all pocket.
+Not a rich pocket, as you say, but Shanty Moir is filthy with nuggets
+and dust now, and there’ll be some more in the sand that’s left to work
+over.
+
+“Not a bonanza, man, but a good-sized fortune. ‘Twould be enough to send
+my Hattie to school. ’Twould give her all the comforts of the world.
+’Twould make folk look up to her. And Shanty Moir, the devil’s spawn,
+has it in his keeping.”
+
+“And he’ll probably see that it continues in his keeping, too,” yawned
+Reivers.
+
+“Never!” swore MacGregor, rising to the bait. “Shanty Moir did me dirt
+too foul to prosper by it, and I’m a better man than he is, besides. The
+stuff will come into my hands, where it belongs, some way. I dinna see
+just how for the present. But the stuff, and my revenge I will have.
+E’en shackled as I am I’ll have my revenge, though it’s only to bite the
+windpipe out of Shanty Moir’s throat like a mad dog.”
+
+“Huh!” Reivers was lying face down on some blankets, apparently but
+little interested. “And suppose you do get Shanty Moir? What good will
+that do you? I’ll bet Shanty’s got the gold hid where nobody could find
+it without getting directions from him. Suppose you get him. Suppose you
+get all three of ’em. Shanty Moir being dead, the nuggets and dust
+probably’d be as completely lost as they were before you two boys found
+the pocket in the first place.”
+
+For a long time MacGregor sat in his corner of the dugout without
+replying. Reivers could see that at times he raised his head, even
+opened his mouth as if to speak, then sank back undecided. At last he
+hunched himself forward inch by inch to the front of the dugout and
+lifted the flap.
+
+The light of day had gone from the cavern. On the sand before the larger
+dugout blazed a brisk cooking-fire. In the confined space the light from
+its flames was magnified, reflecting from rock-wall and running water,
+and illuminating brightly the miserable hole in which Reivers and
+MacGregor lay.
+
+MacGregor held up the flap for several minutes, studying Reivers, and
+though Reivers looked back with the look in his eyes that made most men
+quail, the old man’s sharp grey eyes studied him unruffled, even as the
+eyes of his daughter had done before.
+
+“By the Big Nail, ’tis a man’s man!” muttered MacGregor, dropping the
+flap at last. “How in the name of self-respect did the likes of you fall
+prey to the cur, Shanty Moir?”
+
+“Self-respect?” sniggered Reivers. “Did you notice me out there when you
+were laying your curse on Moir?”
+
+“Aye. You were far gone in liquor then—by the looks of you. You’ll mind
+I say ‘by the looks of you.’ You are not in liquor now. That’s what
+puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch so quickly. You were
+playing at being drunk. Now, why might that be?”
+
+“To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir thinking I’m a drunken
+squaw-man without brains or nerve enough to do anything but sponge for
+hooch.”
+
+“Aye? And your reason for that?”
+
+“My reason for that?” Reivers laughed under his breath. “Why, did you
+ever hear of a more popular reason for a man risking his throat than
+gold? I heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan and your
+daughter. I need—or rather, I want money. Shanty Moir had won over you
+and had gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away from him.
+Isn’t that simple?”
+
+“Simple and spoken well,” said MacGregor calmly. “Will you answer me one
+question: Did you serve notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on
+this hunt?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail and do what he can
+if he speaks out fair. I take it you hardly calculated to find me here
+alive?”
+
+“No, I didn’t think Moir was such an amateur as to take any chances.”
+
+“Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that’s why I’m alive, and no other
+reason. And finding me here alive, does it alter your plans any?”
+
+“Only a trifle. You see, I’d made up my mind to bring Moir and your
+daughter Hattie face to face to see if she could make good on her big
+talk of taking revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I see
+you’re still alive—well, I won’t let any little foolishness like that
+interfere with the business I’ve come on.”
+
+“I mean about the gold, man?”
+
+Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise.
+
+“About the gold?” he repeated.
+
+“Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the gold, here, alive
+and hoping to win back with my share to my daughter Hattie—does it make
+any change in your plans?”
+
+Reivers chuckled softly.
+
+“Not in the slightest,” he replied. “I came to get the stuff that’s come
+out of this mine. Take a look at me. Do I look like a soft fool who’d
+let anything interfere with my plans?”
+
+MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled.
+
+“I dinna understand ye, mon,” he said. “I canna make you out. By the
+look of you I’d be wishful to strike hands with you as one good man to
+another; but your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the stuff
+that’s been taken out of this mine—Shanty Moir’s half—I have made up my
+mind shall be yours for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from
+black shame. Will you na’ strike hands on a partnership like that
+between us?”
+
+Reivers yawned.
+
+“Why should I? You’re ‘all in.’ You can’t help me any. I’ll have to do
+the job of getting the gold away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I
+don’t want any help, and I certainly won’t make any unnecessary split.”
+
+“Man,” whispered MacGregor in horror, “is there naught but a piece of
+ice where your heart should be? Do you not understand it’s for a poor,
+unprovided girl I’m talking? A man you might rob; but have you the
+coldness in your heart to rob my little, unfortunate Hattie?”
+
+“‘Little, unfortunate Hattie!’” mocked Reivers. “Consider her robbed
+already. What then?”
+
+“A word to Shanty Moir and you’re as good as dead,” retorted MacGregor
+hotly.
+
+Reivers’ long right arm shot out and terrible fingers clutched
+MacGregor’s throat. The old man wriggled and gasped and tried to cry
+out, but Reivers held him voiceless and helpless and smiled.
+
+“One word to Shanty Moir, and—you see?” he said, releasing his hold.
+“Then your little, unfortunate Hattie would be robbed for sure.”
+
+“Man—man—what are you, man or devil?” gasped MacGregor.
+
+“Devil, if it suits you,” said Reivers. “But, remember, I’ll manage to
+be within reach of you when Shanty Moir’s about, and I rather fancy Moir
+would be glad to have me put you out of business. Now listen to me. I’ve
+no objection to your getting out of here alive—if you can. I’ve no
+objection to your getting your revenge on Moir, if you can, provided
+that none of this interferes with my getting what I came after. You know
+now what I can and will do if necessary. Your life lies right there.” He
+opened and closed his right hand significantly. “Well, I’ll trade you
+your life for a little information. Where does Shanty keep his gold?”
+
+MacGregor ceased gasping. He began to laugh. He leaned over and laughed.
+He rocked from side to side.
+
+“Man, man! Do you not know that? That proves you’re only human!” he
+chuckled. “You came out here, like a lamb led to slaughter, to find
+where Shanty Moir keeps his gold. You were on the trail with Shanty. You
+had him where it was only one man to one. Well—well, the joke is too
+good to keep: Shanty Moir, day and night, wears a big buckskin belt
+about the middle of him, and the gold—the gold is in the belt!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL—THE WHITE MAN’S SENTIMENT
+
+
+It was very still in the dugout. Suddenly Reivers leaned forward to see
+if MacGregor were telling the truth. Satisfied with his scrutiny he sat
+back and laughed softly.
+
+“In a belt, around his middle, eh?” he said. “Good work. Mr. Moir is
+cautious enough to be interesting.”
+
+“Cautious!” MacGregor threw up the flap of the dugout. “Look out there,
+man.”
+
+Reivers looked. On the sand directly before the door lay chained a huge,
+husky dog, an ugly, starved brute with mad eyes.
+
+“Try but to crawl outside the shack,” suggested MacGregor.
+
+Reivers tried. His head had no more than appeared outside when the dog
+sprang. The chain jerked him back as his teeth clashed where Reivers’
+head had been. He leaped thrice more, striving to hurl himself into the
+dugout, then returned to his place and lay down, growling.
+
+“Very cautious,” agreed Reivers.
+
+He peered carefully out toward the cooking-fire. The fire had died down
+now and was deserted. By the sounds coming from the larger dugout
+Reivers knew that Moir and his men were occupied with their supper,
+supplemented by occasional drafts of liquor, and once more he crawled
+out upon the sand.
+
+With a snarl the great dog leaped again, his bared fangs flashing in the
+night. The snarl died in a choke. Reivers’ long arms flashed out and his
+fingers caught the dog by the throat so swiftly and surely that not
+another sound came from between its teeth. It was a big, strong dog and
+it died hard, but out there on the sand Reivers sat, silently keeping
+his hold till the last sign of life had gone from the brute’s body. Not
+a sound rose to attract attention from the larger dugout.
+
+When the animal was quite dead Reivers crawled forward and untied the
+chain that held it to a rock. Noiselessly he crawled farther on and
+noiselessly slipped the carcass into the brook. The brisk current caught
+it and dragged it down. Reivers waited until he saw the thing disappear
+into the dark tunnel at the lower end of the cavern, then returned to
+the dugout and quietly lay down on his blankets.
+
+“God’s blood!” gasped MacGregor and sat silent.
+
+“Well,” yawned Reivers, “our friend Moir is short one dog.”
+
+“You crazy fool!” MacGregor was grinding his teeth. “Ha’ you no’ thought
+of what Shanty Moir will do when he finds what you’ve done to his
+watch-dog?”
+
+“What I have done?” Reivers laughed his idiotic squaw-man’s laugh.
+“D’you suppose a poor old bum like me could throttle a man-eater like
+that beast? You’ll be the one to be blamed for it. Why should I touch
+Moir’s dog? Moir and I came here together, chummy as a couple of
+thieves.”
+
+“You would not—you could not do that? You could not put it on me? Man,
+they’d drop me in the river after the beast, if you got them to believe
+it.”
+
+“Well?” said Reivers gently.
+
+The Scot bit his lip and grew crafty.
+
+“Well,” he said, “there’d be only you left then to do the dirt-hauling
+for Shanty Moir.”
+
+Reivers nodded appreciatively.
+
+“You deserve something for that, Mac,” said he.
+
+He lay silent for a few minutes. Then he chuckled suddenly as if he had
+thought of a good joke.
+
+“Watch me closely now, Mac,” he ordered, “and if you ever feel like
+speaking that word to Moir, I’ll holler at you worse than this.”
+
+He rolled himself to the front of the dugout, and suddenly there rang
+out in the cavern such a shriek of terror as stopped the blood in the
+veins of all who heard. Twice Reivers uttered his horrible cry. Then he
+began to shout drunkenly:
+
+“Take him off, take him away! Oh, oh, oh! Big dog coming out of the
+river. Take him away. Big dog swimming in the river. Take him away.
+Help, help!”
+
+Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout in advance of the
+others. He came with a six-shooter in his hand, and the gun covered
+Reivers, huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a vise. But
+Reivers observed that Moir stopped well out of reach.
+
+“What tuh ——!” roared Muir, as he noted the absence of the watch-dog.
+“What devil’s work——”
+
+“The dog!” chattered Reivers. “Big dog; big as a house. Came out of the
+river. Tried to jump on me. Jumped back into the river.
+Swimming—swimming out there.”
+
+Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till it pointed straight
+at Reivers’s forehead. He did not step forward, but remained well out of
+reach.
+
+“Steady, old son,” he said quietly, “steady, or this’ll go off.”
+
+Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended to come back to his
+senses.
+
+“Gimme a drink, mister,” he pleaded. “I’m seeing things. I was sure
+there was a big dog out there. I’d ‘a’ sworn I saw him jump into the
+river. Now I see there isn’t, but gimme a drink—quick!”
+
+“Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey,” snapped Moir over his
+shoulder. “Wilt see about this.” He turned the weapon on the cowering
+MacGregor. “Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What’s been
+done here; where’s Tige?”
+
+“Was it a real dog?” cried Reivers before MacGregor could reply. “I saw
+something—he went into the river.”
+
+“Speak, you!” said Moir to the Scotchman. “Speak quick.”
+
+“He’s telling you straight,” replied MacGregor, with a nod toward
+Reivers. “The dog went into the river. I saw him go down, out of sight.”
+
+“Out of sight,” muttered Reivers, swallowing the drink which Joey had
+brought him. “So it was a real dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he
+jumped back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he went into the
+river and never came out.”
+
+Moir stepped over and examined the rock from which Reivers had slipped
+the dog’s chain.
+
+“Tammy,” he said quietly. Tammy came obediently, stopping a good two
+paces away from Moir.
+
+“See that?” said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy nodded.
+
+“You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?”
+
+“Yes, but——”
+
+“And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and into tuh river and is
+lost.”
+
+“Shanty, I swear——”
+
+“Swear all you want to, lad,” said Moir and dropped him cold with a
+light tap on the jaw.
+
+“Pick him up.” Moir’s moving revolver had seemed to cover every one
+present, but now the muzzle hesitated on Joey. “Carry him into tuh
+shack.”
+
+As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little dugout, but stopped
+well out of reach of a possible rush.
+
+“Old son,” he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed at Reivers’ right
+eye, “old son, if you yell again tonight let it be your prayers, because
+you’ll need ’em. Dost hear? I suspect ’twas thy yelling scared Tige into
+the river. Wouldst send thee down after him, only I’ve use for you in
+tuh pits. Crawl in and lie still if wouldst live till daylight, —— you.
+Wilt pay for the loss of Tige, I warn you that.”
+
+He turned away and Reivers fell back on his blankets chuckling boyishly.
+He was in fine fettle. The Snow-Burner was coming back to his old form,
+and in the delight of the moment’s difficulties he had temporarily lost
+the softening memories that had disturbed him of late.
+
+“How was it, old-timer?” he laughed. “Could you pick any flaw in it?”
+
+MacGregor shook his head in wonder.
+
+“I had a man go fey on me once, up on the Slave Lake trail,” he said
+slowly. “He let go just such yells as came from your mouth now. I’m
+thinking no man could yell so lest he’s fey himself, or has travelled
+wi’ auld Nickie and stole some of his music.”
+
+“Quite so. Exactly the impression I wished to create,” said Reivers. “I
+thank you for your compliment, but your analysis is all wrong. Complete
+control of your vocal organs, that’s all. You see I wished to let out
+just such a yell. It was rather hard, because my vocal organs never had
+made such a sound before, and they protested. I forced them to do it.
+
+“The man with the superior mind can force his body to do anything.
+Understand, Mac? It’s the superior mind that counts. If you’d had a mind
+superior to Moir’s you’d be top dog here, with Moir fetching bones for
+you. As it is, you’re doing the fetching, and Moir’s growing fat. And
+here I come along, with a mind superior to Moir’s, and I’m going to be
+top dog now and gobble the whole proceeds of your squabbling. The mind,
+Mac, the grey stuff in the little bone-box at the top of your neck,
+that’s all that counts. Nothing else. And I’ve got the best grey matter
+in this camp, and I’m going to be top dog as a matter of course.”
+
+MacGregor flared up hotly.
+
+“You say, that’s all that counts?” he said. “D’you mean to tell me to my
+face that after I’d struck hands with a man to be my partner, as I did
+with Shanty Moir, that I’d turn on him and play him the scurvy trick he
+played me, just because I could? Well, if you say that, mon, you lie,
+and I throw the word smack in your teeth. Go back on my hand-shake, just
+to be top dog and get the bones! God’s blood! There’s other things
+better than bones, and there’s other things that count besides a
+superior mind. How many times do you suppose I could have shot Shanty
+Moir after we’d found this mine?”
+
+“Not once. You didn’t have it in you. You couldn’t do it. If you could
+you’d have been the superior man, and you’re not.”
+
+MacGregor thought it over.
+
+“You’re right, mon, I couldn’t do it. I thank God I couldn’t. I’d rather
+be the slave I am at present than be able to do things like that.”
+
+“Sentiment, Mac; foolish, unreasonable sentiment.”
+
+“Sentiment!” MacGregor spoke hotly, then suddenly subsided. “Yes, you’re
+right, lad,” he admitted after awhile. “It’s naught but sentiment. I see
+now. It’s the kind of sentiment that white men die for, and that makes
+them the boss men of the world. Well, lad, I am sorry to hear you talk
+as if ’twas only your skin was white. But I do not see you top dog of
+this camp yet. I’ll warrant Shanty Moir didn’t allow you to slip a gun
+or knife into camp. And did you notice the little tool he had in his
+hand?”
+
+“A six-shooter,” said Reivers. “A crude weapon compared to a good mind,
+MacGregor.”
+
+“Aye? I’m glad to hear you say so, lad, for I’ve only a mind, such as it
+is, left me for a weapon, and I’m quite sure I must overcome the six-gun
+in Shanty’s hand ere I ever win back to lay eyes on my daughter Hattie.”
+
+“Your daughter Hattie!” Reivers sat up, jarred out of his composure.
+“You forget your daughter Hattie; you hear, MacGregor? And now shut up.
+There’s been enough yawping to-night; I want to sleep.”
+
+He rolled himself tightly in his blankets. MacGregor crawled miserably
+to his corner and huddled down to sleep as best he could in his cruel
+shackles. The dugout grew as still as a tomb. Faint sounds came from the
+place where Moir and his men were living, but as the night grew older
+these ceased, and a silence as complete and primitive as it knew before
+man bent his steps thither fell over the isolated cavern.
+
+Reivers did not sleep. MacGregor’s last words had done the work. “My
+daughter Hattie.” Hattie with the clean, pure face of her. Hattie with
+the wide grey eyes; with the look of pain upon her. Curse MacGregor!
+What business had he mentioning that name? Reivers had forgotten, or
+thought he had. He was himself again. And then this old fool—curse him!
+Curse the whole MacGregor tribe. And especially did he curse himself for
+being weak and foolish enough to permit such trifles to interfere with
+his sleep.
+
+He dozed away toward daylight and dreamed that Hattie MacGregor was
+looking at him. The hard look on her face had softened a little, and she
+said she was glad he had sent Neopa back to her lover, Nawa.
+
+“—— you, get out of there!”
+
+In his half-waking Reivers fancied it was his own voice driving the
+picture from his mind.
+
+“Get out, beasts, and get out quick!”
+
+It was Shanty Moir’s voice and he was calling to MacGregor and Reivers
+to get up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI—SHANTY MOIR—TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE
+
+
+Reivers came forth from the dugout, stooped and shaking, the drunken
+squaw-man’s morning condition to perfection, but in reality alert and
+watchful for the opportunity he was seeking. He had had a bad night, and
+he was anxious to have the job over with and get away with his loot to
+some place where he could forget.
+
+A surprise awaited him outside. Two tin plates loaded with meat and a
+tin cup half full of liquor were placed on the sand before the dugout.
+Ten feet away stood Shanty Moir, his six-shooter covering the two men as
+they emerged. With the instinct of the wild animal that he was, Moir
+knew the value of clamping his hold firmly on his victims in the cold
+grey of morning.
+
+“Drink and eat,” he said, satisfied with the humility with which the two
+went to their food. “Eat fast, or you’ll go into tuh pit with tuh belly
+empty.”
+
+“I thought you hired me for a cook, mister,” whined Reivers, as he
+raised the tin cup to his lips. “I want to cook.”
+
+“Cook, ——!” sneered Moir. “Tuh squaw’ll do all tuh cooking done here.
+Draft beast with tuh Scotch jackass, that’s what ’ee be, old ox. Hurry
+up. Wilt have a little of tuh prod?”
+
+Out of the corner of his eye Reivers saw that MacGregor was eying the
+cup of liquor wistfully. Moved by an impulse that was strange to him he
+took a small drink and held out the cup to his companion. As MacGregor
+eagerly reached for it Moir’s gun crashed out and the cup flew from
+Reivers’s hand.
+
+“Tuh motto of this camp is, ‘No treating,’” chuckled Moir. “Hooch is
+good on tuh trail. We’re on tuh job now. You get liquor, old son,
+because ’tis medicine to you, and any hooch drinked here, I must
+prescribe.”
+
+Across the creek, Tammy, at work building a fire under the thawing-pan,
+heard his chief’s words and growled faintly.
+
+“Yes, and ’ee prescribe terrible small doses, too, Shanty,” he muttered.
+“A good thing can be over-played. Hast no reason for refusing Joey and
+me a nip before starting work this morning.”
+
+Moir, moving like a soft-footed lynx, was across the creek and behind
+Tammy before the latter realised what was coming. From his position Moir
+now dominated the whole camp, and a sickly smile appeared on Tammy’s
+mouth.
+
+“Aw, Shanty!” he whined. “Didst only mean it for a joke. Can take a joke
+from an old chum, can’t ’ee, Shanty?”
+
+“Get into tuh pit, Tammy,” said Moir quietly, pointing with his gun to
+the tunnel where sounds indicated that Joey already was at work.
+
+“Aw, Shanty——”
+
+“Get in!”
+
+Slack-jawed with terror Tammy crawled into the dark tunnel.
+
+“Eh, Joey, ma son!” called Moir down the pit-mouth.
+
+“Aye?” came back the answer.
+
+“Dost ’ee, too, think ’ee should have a drink this morn’?”
+
+“Aye, Shanty,” replied the unsuspecting Joey.
+
+“Have a hot one, then!” roared Shanty and kicked a blazing log from
+Tammy’s fire into the pit.
+
+A mingling of shrieks and protests greeted its arrival.
+
+“Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not take a joke?”
+
+“Am taking it now, ma sons,” laughed Moir, and kicked more brands down
+the tunnel.
+
+Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the tiny pit, Joey and
+Tammy essayed to crawl out. Bang! went Moir’s six-shooter and they
+hastily retreated. The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down
+at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the two unfortunate
+men were being suffocated. Moir waited until the faintness of the sounds
+told how far gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers with his
+revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit by this time.
+
+“Step down and drag ’em out, old son,” he said. “Come now, no hanging
+back. Tuh trigger on this gun is filed down so she pulls very light.”
+
+Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling with fear, and
+toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious men out, though he could
+have walked away with one under each arm.
+
+“Throw water on ’em. Splash ’em good.”
+
+Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting up, coughing and sneezing,
+and trying their best to make Moir believe they had only been joking.
+
+“Good enough, ma sons; so was I,” chuckled Moir. “Now back to tuh job,
+and if ever you doubt who’s top man here you’ll stay in tuh pit till
+you’re browned well enough to eat. Dost hear me?”
+
+“Aye, Shanty,” said the two men humbly, and hurried back to their tasks.
+
+“And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and get into tuh harness,”
+commanded Moir.
+
+He continued to hold the gun in his hand and motioned to the sledge near
+the thawing-pan. High side-boards had been placed on the sledge, making
+it capable of holding twice its former load, and a looped rope
+supplemented the traces to which MacGregor was so ignominiously hitched.
+
+“Take hold of the rope, old son,” directed Moir.
+
+He did not approach as MacGregor resignedly led the way to the sledge.
+Tammy turned from his thawing-pan to hitch the Scotchman to his traces
+and to strap down his hands. Moir stood back, the gun in his hand,
+dominating all three.
+
+“Now into tuh pit; Joey’s got a load waiting,” he commanded. “And one
+whine out of you, old ox, and you get the prod. Hi-jah! Giddap!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII—THE SNOW-BURNER WORKS FOR TWO
+
+
+With MacGregor leading the way, Reivers humbly picked up his rope and
+helped drag the sledge into the mine. The tunnel, high and broad enough
+only for two men to crawl abreast, ran at a steep slant into the sand
+for probably twenty-five feet. At its end it spread into a small room in
+which Joey was at work, chopping loose chunks of frozen earth.
+
+One glance around and Reivers knew from experience that this room had
+been the home of the pocket, and that, unless the signs lied, the pocket
+soon would be worked out. Judging by the extent of the excavation the
+pocket had been a good-sized one, and the amount of dust and nuggets
+taken from it undoubtedly would foot up to a neat sum. Yes, it would be
+a tidy fortune. It would be plenty to give him a new start in life,
+plenty to pay him for the trouble he had gone to, plenty even to pay him
+for the baseness of his present position.
+
+He obeyed Joey meekly when ordered, with curses and insults, to load the
+sledge. He could have throttled Joey down there in the mine without a
+sound coming up to warn those above of what was happening, but Moir’s
+conduct of the morning had made an impression upon Reivers. A man who
+kept himself out of reach, who kept his six-shooter pointed at you all
+the time, and who could shoot tin cups out of your moving hand, was not
+a man to be despised.
+
+The first hour of work that day convinced Moir and his henchmen that
+their original unflattering estimate of Reivers was correct. Even a
+close observer, regarding him during that period of probation, would
+have seen nothing to indicate that he was anything but what Shanty Moir
+had judged him to be. A miserable, broken-down squaw-man, without a will
+of his own, and only one ambition—to clamour for as much liquor as
+possible—that was the character that Reivers played perfectly for the
+benefit of Moir and his two men.
+
+At first, they kept an eye on him, watching to see if by any chance the
+old fool might be dangerous. They discovered that he would be dangerous
+if turned loose—to their supply of liquor. Beyond that he had,
+apparently, not a single aim in the world. His physical weakness, they
+soon discovered, was exactly what was to be expected of a whisky bloat.
+He was able to help haul the sledge-loads of frozen earth up the incline
+of the shaft, and that was all. Even that left him puffing and
+trembling.
+
+“Is an old ox, as ’ee said, Shanty, with even tuh horns burnt off him by
+tuh hooch,” said Joey, after the first few loads. “Keep a little o’ tuh
+liquor running down his throat each day and he’ll be a good draft beast
+to us. Nothing to fear o’ him. Didst well when ’ee picked him out,
+chief.”
+
+They stopped watching him. He was harmless. Which was exactly the frame
+of mind which Reivers had worked to create.
+
+MacGregor alone knew how cleverly Reivers was playing his part, and he
+regarded his new companion in misery with greater awe and swore beneath
+his breath in unholy admiration. He had excellent opportunity to
+appreciate Reivers’s ability to play the part of a weakling, for the
+Snow-Burner, when not observed, caught his free hand in MacGregor’s
+traces and pulled the full weight of the heavy sledge as if it had been
+a boy’s plaything.
+
+“Eh, mon!” gasped the weakened Scotchman in relief. “I begin to
+comprehend now. ’Tis a surprise you’re planning for Shanty Moir. Oh,
+aye! ’Tis a braw joke. But you maun l’ave me finish him, man; ’tis my
+right. And I thank you and will repay you well for the favour you are
+doing me in my present bunged-up condition.”
+
+“Favour your eye!” snapped Reivers. “It’s easier to pull the whole thing
+than to have you dragging on it. Don’t think I’m doing it for your sake.
+You’ll have a rude awakening, my friend, if you’re building any hopes on
+me.”
+
+“I dinna understand you,” said MacGregor with a shake of his head.
+“You’re different from any man I ever met. But at all events, you’ve
+made the loads lighter, and I think I must have perished soon had you
+not done so.”
+
+“Shut up!” hissed Reivers irritably. “I tell you I’m doing it because
+it’s easier for me.”
+
+His attitude toward the old man was brutally domineering when they were
+alone and openly abusive when they were in the presence of Moir or the
+others. He showered foul epithets upon him, pretended to shoulder the
+greater part of the work on him, and abused him in a fashion that won
+the approval of the three brutes over them.
+
+“Make him do his share, old sonny,” roared Moir. “Wilt have tuh prod?
+Joey, give him tuh prod so he can poke up tuh jackass when he lags
+back.”
+
+“Don’t need no prod,” boasted Reivers. “I can handle him without any
+prod. Come on, pull up there, you loafer. Think I’m going to do it all?”
+
+MacGregor on such occasions would hold his head low to hide the gleam in
+his eyes and the grin that strove for room on his tightly pressed lips.
+His harness was hanging slack; Reivers took more of the load upon
+himself with every curse that he uttered.
+
+All through the day it was Reivers’ strength that pulled the heavy
+sledge up the dirt incline of the tunnel, and at night, when the day’s
+work was done, and MacGregor, tottering feebly toward his bunk, fell
+helpless through the dugout’s flap, Reivers picked him up, laid him down
+gently and placed his own blanket beneath his head.
+
+“God bless you, lad!” whispered MacGregor.
+
+“Shut up!” hissed Reivers. “I don’t want any talk like that.”
+
+He looked down at the prostrate man for a moment. Then with a muttered
+curse he unloosened the straps that bound MacGregor’s arms to his sides
+and hurled himself over to his own side of the shack. He was very angry
+with himself. Pity and succour for the helpless had never before been a
+part of his creed. Why should he trouble about MacGregor?
+
+“I’ll have to strap you up again in the morning,” he flung out suddenly,
+“but it won’t hurt to have your hands free for the night. Shut up—lay
+still! I hear somebody coming.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII—“THE PENALTY OF A WHITE MAN’S MIND”
+
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” It was Tillie who came, bearing the evening food, and
+Reivers crept out on the sand to meet her. “Oh, Snow-Burner,” she
+whispered quietly, “I am weary of this camp. The air is bad, and the
+country is not open. It is in my heart to poison Iron Hair as soon as
+the Snow-Burner says we are ready to go from this place.”
+
+Reivers stared at her. A short while ago he would not have been shocked
+in the slightest degree to have heard this—to her, natural speech—fall
+from Tillie’s lips. But of late another woman, another kind of woman,
+had been in his thoughts, and Tillie’s words left him speechless for the
+moment.
+
+The squaw continued placidly—
+
+“The Snow-Burner comes here after gold?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And when he has the gold we go away?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Good. The pig, Iron Hair, wears a great belt of buckskin about his
+middle. The gold is in there, much of it. I will poison him to-night,
+and we will take the belt and go away from here in the morning.”
+
+Reivers made no reply. Here was success offered him without so much as a
+move of his hand. He need have no part in it, none at all. Tillie would
+bring him the gold belt. That was what he had come for; and hitherto he
+had never let anything in the world stand between him and the
+gratification of his desires. Yet he hesitated.
+
+“Is there more gold here than Iron Hair wears in his belt?” asked
+Tillie.
+
+Reivers shook his head.
+
+“Then why wait?” Her whisper was full of amazement. “It is not like the
+Snow-Burner. Was there ever a man who could make him do his will? And
+yet now the Snow-Burner labours for Iron Hair like a woman.”
+
+“Like a woman?” He repeated her bold words in surprise, while she sat
+humbly awaiting the careless, back-hand blow which knocked her rolling
+on the sand. “And was that hand like the hand of a woman?” he asked.
+
+Tillie picked herself up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. It was long
+since the Snow-Burner had struck her strongly.
+
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” she whispered proudly as she crawled back to his
+side. “Why do we wait? It is all ready. The Snow-Burner knows where the
+gold is that he came for. Tillie will do her share. The sleep-medicine
+is sewed in the corner of my blanket. There is enough to kill this big
+pig, Iron Hair, and his men three times over. Will not the Snow-Burner
+give the sign for Tillie to put the sleep-medicine in their food? Then
+they will sleep and not awaken, and the Snow-Burner and Tillie can go
+away with the gold. Was it not so that the Snow-Burner wished to do?”
+
+Reivers nodded. That was what he wished.
+
+It was very simple. Only a nod. After that—the sleep-medicine, the
+tasteless Indian poison, the secret of which Tillie possessed, and which
+she would have used on a hundred men had Reivers given the word.
+
+Yes, it was very simple—except that he could not forget Hattie
+MacGregor. The memory of her each hour had grown clearer, more
+torturing. Because of it he had taken the killing load of work from her
+father’s shoulders; because of it he was growing weak. He swore
+mutteringly as he thought of it. He had permitted her memory to soften
+him, to make a boy of him. But now he was himself again. Tillie’s words
+had done their work. He turned toward the squaw, and she saw by the look
+in his eyes that the Snow-Burner at last was going to give the fatal
+sign.
+
+“To-night,” she pleaded. “Let it be to-night. It is a bad camp here. The
+air is not good. Iron Hair is a pig. Let me give the sleep-medicine
+to-night; then we go from here in the morning—together.”
+
+She crept closer to him, slyly smiling up at him; and suddenly Reivers
+flung her away with a movement of loathing and sprang up, tall and
+straight.
+
+“No,” he said quietly, “not to-night.” And Tillie crouched at his feet.
+
+“Snow-Burner,” she whispered, “I hear Iron Hair and his men talk. They
+go away soon. They take the gold with them. Does not the Snow-Burner
+want the gold?”
+
+Reivers looked down upon her. He was standing up, stiff and proud, as he
+should stand, but as he had not stood since he had begun to play at
+being a drunken squaw-man.
+
+“I do not want you to help me get the gold,” he said slowly. “I do not
+want you to give Iron Hair the sleep-medicine, to-night, or any night. I
+will take the gold from Iron Hair without your help. I have spoken.”
+
+He stood looking down at her, and Tillie, looking up at him, once more
+was reminded that he was a white man and that the vast gulf between them
+never might be bridged. Wearily, hopelessly, she rose to her feet.
+
+“The Snow-Burner has spoken; I have heard,” she whispered, and went
+humbly back into the large dugout.
+
+Reivers laughed a small laugh of bitterness as he heard the flap drop
+behind her. He threw his head far back and gazed up at the slit of
+starlit sky that showed above the mouth of the cavern, and for once in
+his life he felt the common insignificance of human-kind alone in the
+vast scheme of Nature. He was weak; he had thrown away the easy way to
+success; he had let the memory of Hattie MacGregor’s face, flaring
+before his eyes in the instant that Tillie thrust her lips up to his,
+beat him.
+
+He threw up his great arms and held them out, tense and hard as bars of
+living steel. He felt of his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his legs,
+and he laughed sardonically.
+
+“Body, you’re just as superior to other men’s bodies as you ever were,”
+he mused. “Yes, Body, you’re just as fit to rend and prey on others as
+ever. But you’re handicapped now. You’re not permitted to do things as
+you used to do them. Body, you’re paying the penalty of being burdened
+with a white man’s mind.”
+
+MacGregor looked up as Reivers re-entered the dugout bearing the evening
+food. A tiny fire in one corner lighted up the room and by its
+flickering flames he saw Reivers’ face.
+
+“Blood o’ God!” whispered the old man in awe. “What’s come over you,
+man?”
+
+He rose on his elbow and peered more closely.
+
+“Man—man—you ha’ not overcome Shanty Moir? You have not finished him
+without letting me——”
+
+Reivers laughed.
+
+“What are you talking about? Do I look as if I’d been fighting?”
+
+MacGregor studied him seriously.
+
+“I donno,” said he slowly. “I donno that you look as if you had been
+fighting. But you come in with your head high up, and the look in your
+eyes of a man who has conquered. That I do know. Tell me, lad, what’s
+taken place wi’ you outside?”
+
+“None of your business,” snapped Reivers. “Here’s your supper.” And he
+returned to his side of the dugout to sit down to think.
+
+He was on his mettle now. He had put to one side the easy, certain way
+to success that Tillie had offered. Success was not to be so easy as he
+had thought. Thus far it had been easy. He had met Moir, he had won his
+way into the mine, he had learned where the gold was hidden, all as he
+had planned. Remained to get the gold and get safely away. The time to
+do it in was short.
+
+Reivers’ experienced miner’s eyes had told him that the pocket was
+perilously near to being mined out. Any day, any hour now, and the
+pay-streak which they were following might end in barren dirt. That
+would be the end of his opportunity. Moir and his men would waste no
+time in the Dead Lands after making their cleanup. They would pack and
+travel at once, southward, to the railroad. They would not permit even
+so harmless an individual as a sodden squaw-man to trail them. Hence,
+Reivers knew that he must find or make his opportunity without waste of
+time and strike the instant it was found or made.
+
+He had been unable to find an opportunity that first day. Moir in his
+camp was a different man from Moir on the trail. He was the boss man
+here, and Reivers granted him ungrudged admiration for it. Liquor was
+his master on the trail; here he was master of it. His treatment of Joey
+and Tammy in the morning had explained his attitude on that question too
+clearly to make it worth while to attempt to entice him into a bout at
+drinking. Moir was boss here, boss of himself and others, and he always
+had his six-shooter handy to prove it.
+
+Tammy and Joey wore knives at their hips, but no guns. Moir’s 30.40
+rifle hung carelessly on a nail near the door of his dugout. This had
+puzzled Reivers at first. Would a bad man like Moir be so simple as to
+leave his rifle where any one might lay hands on it, and carry a
+six-shooter in a manner to provoke a gun-fight? When he was ordered to
+carry a pail of water to the dugout Reivers managed to take a careful
+look at the rifle, and the puzzle was explained. The breech-block had
+been taken out and the fine weapon was no more deadly than any club
+eight pounds in weight.
+
+His respect for Moir had increased with this discovery. Evidently Moir
+was not so thick-headed after all. He took no chances. The only
+effective shooting-iron in camp was his six-shooter and, with this he
+was thoroughly master of the situation.
+
+In the first hour Reivers had noticed that Moir had a system of guarding
+himself. It was the system of the primitive fighting man and it
+consisted solely of: let no man get at your back. At no time, whether in
+the mine, at the washing-pans, in the open, or in the dugout did Moir
+permit any one to get behind him. He made no distinction. In the pit he
+stood with Joey before him. At the pans he worked behind Tammy. When the
+others grouped together he whirled as smoothly as a lynx if any one made
+to pass in his rear. Even when he sat at ease in the dugout with Tillie
+he placed his back against the bare stone wall at the rear of the room.
+So much Reivers had seen during his first day in the camp.
+
+“Does he sleep soundly at night?” he asked suddenly.
+
+“Who?” asked MacGregor.
+
+“Moir, of course.”
+
+“Soundly?” The Scotchman gritted his teeth. “Aye as soundly as a lynx
+lying down by its kill in a wolf country.”
+
+Reivers smiled a grim smile. There was no chance, then, of rushing
+Shanty Moir in his sleep. It would be harder to get the gold and get
+away than he had expected. In fact, the difficulties of it presented
+quite a problem. He liked problems, did the Snow-Burner, and his smile
+grew more grim as he rolled himself in his blankets and lay down to
+wait, dream-tortured by pictures of Hattie MacGregor, for the coming of
+daylight of the day in which he had resolved to force the problem to
+solution.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV—THE MADNESS OF “HELL-CAMP” REIVERS
+
+
+The day opened as the day before had opened. A bellow from Shanty Moir,
+and Reivers strapped MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled
+out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood a distance away, the
+big six-shooter balanced easily in his hand. But this morning Joey and
+Tammy, over by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance of their
+two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly sensed something new and
+sinister afoot. At the sight of MacGregor’s decrepitude, as, stiff and
+tottering, he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy strove vainly to
+conceal the wolfish grins that appeared on their ugly faces.
+
+“Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep no longer,” said Tammy.
+“Hast been a fair animal for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on
+his oats no more.”
+
+“One fair day’s work left in him,” said Joey, appraising MacGregor
+shrewdly. “Will knock off a little early, eh, Shanty, so’s to have tuh
+light to see him swim.”
+
+“Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of dust,” replied Shanty,
+and the three roared fiendishly together.
+
+“You poor, misbegotten spawn,” said MacGregor, quietly beginning to eat,
+eyeing them one after the other. “I’ll live to spit on the shamed
+corpses of the lot of you.”
+
+As the day’s work began, Reivers started to calculate each move that he
+and Moir made with a view to discovering the opportunity he was looking
+for. All that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without giving the
+latter an opportunity to use his gun.
+
+The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and Tammy armed with
+knives, he accepted as a matter of course. But a six-shooter in the
+hands of a man who could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade too
+much even for him to venture against. The manner in which Moir had shot
+up the tin cup the morning before proved how alert and sure was his
+trigger-finger. To make the suspicion of a move toward him, with the gun
+in his hand, would have spelled instant ruin.
+
+As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was more vigilant than ever. He
+kept far away from the pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or
+hanging ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first load of
+sand he understood why.
+
+The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing the drippings of dust
+washed down from the pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir
+was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of affairs. The
+fortune was in his grasp; he would break camp and be off in the same
+hour that the sand began to run low-grade.
+
+He took no part in the work to-day. He merely stood and watched. And
+Reivers watched back, and the hours passed, and the short day began to
+draw to a close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty Moir
+and live had presented itself.
+
+As the early twilight began to creep down into the cavern, the ugly
+grins with which Joey and Tammy regarded MacGregor began to increase.
+Suddenly Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw up both hands.
+
+“Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!” he shouted.
+
+“All out!” came Moir’s bellow, as if he had been waiting for the signal.
+
+Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came over and stood behind
+Reivers and MacGregor who came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them.
+
+“Take that load down yonder!” ordered Moir, pointing to the black tunnel
+into which the creek disappeared in leaving the cavern.
+
+Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces behind the sledge. Moir,
+gun in hand, walked ten feet behind them.
+
+“Whoa!” he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor had drawn up against the
+cliff beside the stream’s exit. “You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma
+sons. Then over with it quick.”
+
+With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor’s traces. They held him
+between them, and in his bound and weakened condition he was unable to
+struggle or turn around.
+
+Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor into the deep water
+in the tunnel. He sank like a stone and the current sucked him in.
+
+“Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!” laughed Moir, but he laughed a
+trifle too soon.
+
+In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into the darkness of the
+tunnel his face bobbed up above the waters. He looked up, and looked
+straight into Reivers’s eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was the
+same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor the day when
+Reivers had left her cabin.
+
+Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad. He hit Tammy so hard and
+true that he flew through the air and struck against Moir. The next
+instant Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water, groping
+for MacGregor, while the current swept him into the total darkness.
+
+He heard the bullet from Moir’s revolver strike the water behind him in
+the instant that his hands found MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he
+pulled the old man’s head above water; then the current whirled him and
+his burden away. It whisked him downstream with a power irresistible. It
+threw him from side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked him
+and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools and spewed them up again.
+
+He bumped his head against the stone roof of the tunnel and swore. The
+roof was a scant foot above the water. He put his hand up. The roof was
+getting closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was only room
+for their upturned faces above the water.
+
+Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the end! The joke was on
+him. After all he had gone through, he was to drown like a silly fool
+through a fool’s impulse.
+
+Presently roof and water came together. For a moment Reivers fought with
+his vast strength, holding his own for an instant against the current,
+hanging on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort. The
+current proved too strong. It sucked them under; the water closed above
+them. They were whirled and buffeted to the last breath of life in them,
+and then suddenly their heads slipped above water and they were looking
+straight up at the gray Winter sky.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV—A SURPRISE FOR SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers caught hold of a spear of rock the instant his head came out of
+water, and held on. He did not try to think or understand at first.
+Sufficient to know that he was alive and to pump his lungs full of the
+air they were crying for. He held MacGregor under his left arm, and he
+rather wondered that he hadn’t let him go in that moment when he went
+under. MacGregor was beginning to revive, too. Reivers looked around.
+
+There was not much to see. They were in a tiny opening in the rocks, a
+yard or two in length. It was a duplicate of Moir’s cavern on a
+miniature scale, except that here the rock walls were not high or
+impossible to climb. For this space the brook showed itself once more to
+the sun, then vanished again under the cliffs.
+
+“Is it Heaven?” gasped MacGregor, only half conscious.
+
+“Nearer hell,” laughed Reivers.
+
+He lifted himself and his burden out of the water to a resting-place on
+a shelf of rock. For a minute or two he sat looking up at the rock walls
+and the grey sky above them. He looked down at the water, at the spot
+where they had been spewed from death back into life. And then he leaped
+upright and laughed, laughed so that the rocks rang with it, laughed so
+that MacGregor’s senses cleared and he looked at his saviour in
+consternation. His laughter was the uncontrollable, heart-free laughter
+of the man who suddenly sees a great joke upon his enemy.
+
+He smote MacGregor between the shoulder-blades so he gasped and coughed.
+He tore the straps and harness from his arms, body and legs, tossed him
+up in the air, shook him and set him down on the rock.
+
+“I’ve got him!” he said at last. “Oh, Shanty Moir, what a surprise you
+have coming to your own black self!”
+
+MacGregor, with his senses cleared enough to realise that he was alive,
+and to remember how the miracle had come about, said quietly—
+
+“Man, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a man do.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Diving into that hole after me.”
+
+“Oh, to —— with that! That’s past. The past doesn’t count—not when the
+very immediate future is so full of juice and interest as happens to be
+the case just now. I’ve got Shanty Moir, old-timer. Do you understand?
+He’s mine and all that he’s got is mine, and he’s going to be surprised.
+Oh, how surprised he’s going to be!”
+
+MacGregor looked down at the two yards of rushing water, up at the rock
+walls and then at the jubilant Reivers.
+
+“I dinna see it,” he said dryly.
+
+“Really?” Reivers suddenly became interested in him as if he presented a
+rare mental problem. “Can’t you make that simple mind of yours work out
+the simple solution of this problem?”
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+“What I see is this: we’re alive, and that only for the present. We’re
+in a little hole in the Dead Lands. Happen we climb out of the hole, we
+have no dogs, food, or weapons. The nearest camp is two good days’
+mushing, with good fresh dogs. Too far. If I could manage to stagger
+five miles I’d surprise myself. There is not so much as a dry match on
+us. No, I maun say, lad, my simple mind does not see the solution of the
+problem.”
+
+“Try again, Mac,” urged Reivers. “Make your mind work. What do we need
+to make our condition blessed among men; what do men need to be
+well-fitted on the Winter trail? You can make your mind do that sum,
+can’t you?”
+
+“We need,” replied MacGregor doggedly, “dogs, and food, and fire, and
+weapons.”
+
+“Correct. And now what’s the next thought that your grey matter produces
+after that masterpiece?”
+
+“That the nearest place where we may obtain these things is too far away
+for us to make, unless happen we meet some one on the trail, which is
+not likely.”
+
+“Pessimism!” laughed Reivers. “Too much caution stunts the possibility
+of the mind. Interesting demonstration of the fact, with your mind as an
+example.” He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone wall
+from under which they had just emerged. “What’s the other side of those
+rocks, Mac?”
+
+“Shanty Moir and his six-shooter.”
+
+“And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges, and gold, everything,
+everything to make us kings of the country, Mac! And they’re ours—ours
+as surely as if we had ’em in our hands now.”
+
+“I dinna see it,” said MacGregor.
+
+“Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang get out of their camp?”
+
+“Up-stream, by the creek, of course.”
+
+“Any other way?”
+
+“There’s the way we came—but they do not know that.”
+
+“Correct, and when we’ve plugged up that single exit they can’t get away
+from us, Mac, and then we’ve got ’em!”
+
+MacGregor’s eyes lighted up, then he grew dour again.
+
+“We have got ’em, if we plug up the river, I see,” he admitted, “but
+when we have got them, what good does it do us? What are you going to
+do, then?”
+
+“That’s the surprise, Mac; I won’t tell even you.” He looked swiftly for
+a way up the rock walls and found one. “The first question is: Do you
+think you can climb after me up that crevice there?”
+
+“I could climb through hell and back again if it would help in getting
+Shanty Moir.”
+
+“All right. I can’t quite give you hell, but I’ll give Shanty Moir an
+imitation of it before he’s much older. Come on. We’ve got some work to
+do before it gets dark.”
+
+He led the way into the crevice he had marked for the climb up from the
+hole and boosted MacGregor up before him. It was slow, hard work, but
+MacGregor’s weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping down upon
+Reivers’ shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently pulled him down, took
+him on his back and crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his
+burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods away smoke was
+rising through the opening above Moir’s camp, and at the sight of it
+MacGregor’s numbed faculties came to life.
+
+“Lemme go, man!” he pleaded as Reivers caught him as he staggered toward
+the opening. “It’s my chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from
+up here.”
+
+“Save your strength; I’ve got use for it,” said Reivers. “Can you walk?
+All right. Come on, then, and don’t try to get near that gap.”
+
+Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way carefully around the big
+opening till they came to the opposite side of the mass of rocks, where
+the creek entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. Crawling
+and slipping, they made their way down until they stood beside the bed
+of the stream.
+
+“Now to work, Mac,” said Reivers, and seizing a rock bore it to the
+tunnel’s mouth and dropped it into the water.
+
+“Aye, aye!” chuckled MacGregor, as he understood the significance of
+this move. “We’ll wall the curs in.”
+
+For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried and rolled the heaviest
+rocks he could move into position across the tunnel, and MacGregor
+staggered beneath smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their work
+was finished there was a rock wall across the mouth of the tunnel which
+it would have been almost impossible to tear down, especially from the
+inside.
+
+It was growing dark when the task was completed, and Reivers nodded in
+great satisfaction.
+
+“That’ll hold ’em long enough for my purpose, and we just made it in
+time,” he said. “Now come on up the mountain again, and then for the
+surprise.”
+
+“The surprise, man?” panted MacGregor as he toiled up the rocks. “What
+are you going to do? Tell me what’s in your head?”
+
+“Hush, hush!” laughed Reivers, pulling him up to the top. “Your position
+is that of the onlooker. It would spoil it for you if you knew what was
+going to happen.”
+
+“An onlooker—me—when it’s a case of getting Shanty Moir? Don’t say that,
+lad. Don’t leave me out. He’s mine. You know that by all the rights of
+men and gods it’s my right to get him. Give me my just share of
+revenge.”
+
+“Shut up!”
+
+They were nearing the brink of the opening. Reivers’ hand covered
+MacGregor’s mouth as they leaned over and looked down upon the
+unsuspecting men in the cavern below.
+
+In the shut-in spot night had fallen. On the sand before the dugout
+Tillie was cooking over a brisk fire, going about her work as calmly as
+if nothing of moment had happened during the afternoon. Near by, Moir
+and Joey were packing the dog-sledge and repairing harness, evidently
+preparing to take the trail after the evening meal. Tammy sat by the
+fire, holding together with both hands the pieces of his nose which
+Reivers’ blow had smashed flat on his face.
+
+Reivers scarcely looked at the men, but began to scan the walls for a
+way to get down. The walls slanted inwardly from the top, and at first
+it seemed impossible that a man could get safely into the cavern without
+the aid of a rope. But presently Reivers saw that for thirty feet
+directly above the large dugout the rocks were ragged enough to afford
+plenty of holds for hands and feet.
+
+The walls were nearly fifty feet high. If he could reach to the bottom
+of this rough space he would be hanging with his feet, ten or twelve
+feet above the cavern floor.
+
+“Good enough,” he said aloud. “It’s a cinch.”
+
+“A cinch it is,” breathed MacGregor softly. “We’ll roll up a pile of
+rocks and kill ’em like rats in a pit. But you maun leave Shanty to me,
+lad, I——”
+
+“Shut up!” Reivers thrust the Scotchman back from the brink. “Do you
+want me to go after the harness for you? I told you that your job was to
+be the onlooker. I settle this thing with Shanty Moir myself.”
+
+“But man——”
+
+“Moir kicked me. Do you understand? He placed his dirty foot on me. Do
+you see why I’m going to do it by myself?”
+
+“Placed his foot on you? God’s blood! What has he done to me—robbed me,
+made an animal of me, stabbed me with a prod! Who has the better right
+to his foul life?”
+
+“It isn’t a case of right, but of might, Mac,” chuckled Reivers. “I’ve
+got the better might. Therefore, will you give me your word that you’ll
+refrain from interfering with my actions until I’ve paid my debt to Mr.
+Moir, or must I go back after the harness and strap you up?”
+
+“Cruel——”
+
+“Promise!”
+
+“I promise,” said MacGregor. “But it’s wrong, sore wrong. I protest.”
+
+“All right. Protest all you want to, but do it silently. Not another
+word or sound out of you now until the job’s done.”
+
+Together they crawled back to the brink above the large dugout and
+peered down into the darkening cavern. In a flash Reivers had his
+mackinaw and boots off. The cooking-fire was deserted. No one was in
+sight. Moir and his men and Tillie were at supper in the dugout, and
+Reivers’s chance had come. He swung himself silently over the brink and
+hung by a handhold on the rock.
+
+“Don’t interfere, Mac,” he said warningly. “Not till I’ve paid Shanty
+Moir for the touch of his foot.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI—A FIGHT THAT WAS A FIGHT
+
+
+With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged feet forward and caught
+toe-holds on the rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right
+hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid piece of protruding
+rock. Having tested it thoroughly he let go his holds with both feet and
+left hand and dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. Above
+him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the brink of the opening, gasped
+twice, once because he was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the
+bottom, and again when his right hand took the shock of his full weight
+without loosening its grip.
+
+Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he swung his feet inward
+again, secured another hold, lowered his right hand to another sure
+grip, and so made his startling way down the inwardly slanting cliff.
+
+At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, unable to stand the
+strain of watching. Had Reivers been able to see on top of the cliff he
+would have laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in the snow,
+earnestly praying.
+
+Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer down once more. Then he
+knew his prayers had been answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his
+hands, directly above the front of the large dugout, and his feet were
+less than ten feet above the bottom of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop
+of thanksgiving and gathered to him an armful of stones.
+
+For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and appraising the
+situation. He loosened his hold until his whole weight hung on the ends
+of his fingers.
+
+“Come out and fight, Shanty!” he bellowed suddenly. “Come out, you cheap
+cur, and fight like a man!”
+
+Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild animal on the instant of
+the weird challenge from above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in
+hand, tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and Reivers
+dropped and struck him neatly the instant he appeared.
+
+It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir’s neck, Reivers would
+have killed him. He had no wish to kill him—yet. He landed on Moir’s
+shoulders and the six-shooter went flying away as the two bodies crashed
+together and dropped on the sand with a thud.
+
+Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. Tammy and Joey were only
+a step behind Moir. Like wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like
+wildcats they rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then Moir
+was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, but he saw enough of
+the situation to satisfy him. Before him was something to fight, to
+rush, to annihilate. And he rushed.
+
+Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped joyously, a stone in each
+hand, as Reivers leaped forward to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir
+had expected a grapple, and Reivers’ fist caught him full in the mouth
+and threw him back on his shoulders a man’s length away.
+
+When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of
+crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers
+struck, and Moir’s nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He
+struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.
+
+Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance
+and leaped forward to strike at Reivers’ back. With his life depending
+upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir’s great body around, and Joey and
+Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives
+into the back of their chief.
+
+Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his
+head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain
+into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers’ feet. With a yell he
+hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom
+in the Snow-Burner’s eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The
+heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a
+splash and was gone.
+
+But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from
+behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly
+as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face
+they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow
+from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir’s face as from a soaked
+sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
+
+“That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!”
+
+The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and
+came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible
+combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.
+
+Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey
+or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a
+smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the
+struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile
+widening she moved around behind Moir’s broad back. The knife flashed
+above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free
+and knocked the knife away.
+
+“Keep away!” he roared, springing out of the clinch. “This is between
+Iron Hair and me.”
+
+Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled
+Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands
+nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had
+dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and
+snapped it up.
+
+“Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!” shrieked MacGregor and hurled
+another stone.
+
+His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir squarely on his big
+head and drove his face into the sand. He never moved after it.
+
+Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor on his knees was
+chanting his war-cry, his thanks that vengeance had not been denied him.
+Reivers smiled.
+
+“That’s a good song, Mac, whatever it is!” he laughed, when the maddened
+Scotchman had grown quieter. “But the fact remains that you disobeyed my
+orders and interfered.”
+
+“Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the black soul of Shanty
+Moir back to his brother the devil!” chanted MacGregor. “But, lad, I did
+not interfere until you’d paid him in full—until you’d paid double—for
+the kick he gave you. Three of them there were, and they were armed and
+you with bare fists! God’s blood! Never since men stood up with fist to
+fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, and two men dead! Dead
+you are, you poor pups! And I can tell by the way you lived where you’re
+roasting now.
+
+“Ah, ah! I ha’ seen a man fight; I ha’ seen what I shall never forget,
+and, poor stick that I am compared to him, I ha’ e’en had a hand in it
+myself. Man, man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your belly’s
+full of battle?”
+
+Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.
+
+“Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall as you can. I’ll take
+the heavy stones from this side.” He turned to Tillie. “Take the big
+belt from Iron Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the
+trail. We march to-night.”
+
+And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron Hair, the beaten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII—THE SNOW-BURNER PAYS
+
+
+“And now the Snow-Burner has his gold. He has robbed the great Iron Hair
+in his own camp. Great is the Snow-Burner! Now he has the gold which he
+longed for. Now he is rich. The white men will bow down to him. Great is
+the Snow-Burner!”
+
+Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he stood on the edge
+of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly crooned the saga of his success. The
+gold belt of Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great
+weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it contained. The
+dogs were held in leash, eager to be quit of the harsh rock-chasms
+through which they had just travelled, and to strike their lope on a
+trail over the open country beyond.
+
+MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge. The exertions and
+excitement of the afternoon had exhausted him in his weakened condition.
+He sat slumped together, only half conscious of what was going on. In a
+moment he would be sound asleep.
+
+And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He had the gold, and he had
+a supply of food and a strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail.
+All that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the south. Two,
+three, four days’ travelling and he would strike the railroad. And the
+railroad ran to tide-water, and on the water steamboats would carry him
+away to the world he had planned to return to.
+
+It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie’s scheme for getting
+rid of Moir. But he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted
+to do just one thing now, above all others, and that was what he set out
+to do.
+
+He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around MacGregor’s middle.
+MacGregor was sound asleep now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound
+him carefully in place. Tillie’s chant died down in astonishment.
+
+“We take the old one with us?” she asked.
+
+“We do,” said Reivers. “Hi-yah! Together there! Mush, mush up!”
+
+To Tillie’s joy he turned the dogs to the northwest, in the direction of
+the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner was lost to her; she knew that,
+when he had refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something to
+have him come back to the camp.
+
+Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought his team up the
+river-bed to Tillie’s camp in the morning. MacGregor was out of his head
+by then, and for the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat in
+the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him soft food which the old
+squaws had prepared. In the evening he again tied the old man and the
+belt of gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie had read her
+doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she came out to the sledge prepared
+to follow.
+
+“You do not come any farther,” said Reivers as he picked up the
+dog-whip.
+
+Tillie nodded.
+
+“I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a great man among the white
+women. Will the Snow-Burner come back—some time?”
+
+“I will never come back.”
+
+“Ah-hh-hh!” Tillie’s breath came fiercely. “So there is one white woman,
+then. If I had known——”
+
+But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and hurrying out of
+hearing.
+
+MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food, but still weak, lifted
+his head and looked around as the sledge sped over the frozen snow.
+
+“A new trail to me, lad,” he said. “Where to, now?”
+
+“On a fool’s trail,” laughed Reivers bitterly, and drove on.
+
+Next morning MacGregor recognised the land ahead.
+
+“Straight for Dumont’s Camp we’re heading, lad,” he said. “Is it there
+we go?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+They came to Dumont’s Camp as night fell. Reivers halted and made sundry
+enquiries.
+
+“In a shack half ways between here and Fifty Mile,” was the substance of
+the replies.
+
+“Hi-yah! Mush, mush up!” and they were on the trail again.
+
+At daylight the next day, from a rise in the land, he saw the shack that
+had been designated. Smoke was rising from the chimney, and a small
+figure that he knew even at that distance came out, filled a pail with
+snow and went in again.
+
+Reivers stopped his dogs some distance from the shack. He threw
+MacGregor, gold belt and all, over his shoulder and went up to the door
+and knocked. For a second or two he smiled triumphantly as Hattie
+MacGregor opened the door and stood speechless at what she saw. Then he
+bowed low, laid his burden on the floor and went out without a word.
+
+The dogs shuddered as they heard him laugh coming back to them.
+
+“Hi-yah, mush!”
+
+He drove them furiously into a gully that shut out the sight of the
+shack and sat down on the sledge. The dogs whined. It was the time for
+the morning meal and the master was making no preparations to eat.
+
+“Still, you curs!” The whip fell mercilessly among them and they
+crouched in terror.
+
+The time went by. The sun began to climb upward in the sky. Still the
+man sat on the sledge, making no preparations for the morning meal. The
+memory of the whip-cuts died in the dogs’ minds under the growing
+clamour of hunger. They began to whine again.
+
+“Still!” The master was on his feet, but the whip had fallen from his
+hand.
+
+Down at the end of the gully a small figure was coming over the snow.
+She was running, and her red hair flowed back over her shoulders, and
+she laughed aloud as she came up to him. The pain was gone from Hattie
+MacGregor’s lips, and her whole face beamed with a complete, unreasoning
+happiness, but the pride of her breed shone in her eyes even unto the
+end.
+
+“Well, well!” sneered Reivers. “Aren’t you afraid to come so near
+anything that pollutes the air?”
+
+She laughed again. She did not speak. She only looked at him and smiled,
+and by the Eve-wisdom in the smile he knew that his secret was hers. He
+felt himself weakening, but the Snow-Burner died hard. He tried to laugh
+his old, cold laugh, but the ice had been thawed in it.
+
+“What do you want?” he sneered. “I’m not a good enough man for you. Why
+did you come out here?”
+
+“Because I knew you would not go away again,” she said, “and because now
+I know you are a good enough man for me.”
+
+“You red-haired trull!” He raised his hand to strike her.
+
+She did not flinch; she merely smiled up at him confidently,
+contentedly. Suddenly she caught his clenched fist in her hands and
+kissed it. With a curse Reivers swung around on his dogs.
+
+“Hi-yah! Mush, mush out of here!”
+
+Out of the gully into the open he kicked and drove them. He did not look
+back. He knew that she was following.
+
+She followed patiently. She knew that there was nothing else for her to
+do. She had known it the first day she had looked into his eyes. He was
+her man, and she must follow him.
+
+So she trudged on behind her man as he forced the tired dogs to move.
+She smiled as she walked, and the wisdom of Eve was in her smile. She
+had reason to smile, for the Snow-Burner was driving straight toward the
+little shack.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 36121-0.txt or 36121-0.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+
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+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
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+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
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diff --git a/36121-0.zip b/36121-0.zip
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+++ b/36121-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,10906 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Snow-Burner
+
+Author: Henry Oyen
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2011 [EBook #36121]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE
+GROUND]
+
+THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+BY HENRY OYEN
+
+Author of "The Man-Trail"
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+Copyright, 1916,
+
+By George H. Doran Company
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+COPYRIGHT 1914, 1915, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+        I. "Help!"                                          9
+       II. The Girl                                        16
+      III. Toppy Gets A Job                                21
+       IV. "Hell-Camp" Reivers                             31
+        V. Toppy Overhears a Conversation                  39
+       VI. "Nice Boy!"                                     44
+      VII. The Snow-Burner's Creed                         51
+     VIII. Toppy Works                                     62
+       IX. A Fresh Start                                   67
+        X. The Duel Begins                                 74
+       XI. "Hell-Camp" Court                               77
+      XII. Toppy's First Move                              94
+     XIII. Reivers Replies                                100
+      XIV. "Joker and Deuces Wild"                        106
+       XV. The Way of the Snow-Burner                     115
+      XVI. The Screws Tighten                             131
+     XVII. Tilly's Warning                                139
+    XVIII. "Canny by Nature"                              145
+      XIX. The Fight                                      150
+       XX. Toppy's Way                                    162
+      XXI. The End of the Boss                            165
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN
+
+     XXII. The Cheating of the River                      175
+    XXIII. The Girl Who Was Not Afraid                    183
+     XXIV. The Woman's Way                                193
+      XXV. Gold!                                          202
+     XXVI. The Look in a Woman's Eyes                     212
+    XXVII. On the Trail of Fortune                        219
+   XXVIII. The Snow-Burner Hunts                          229
+     XXIX. The White Man's Will                           233
+      XXX. Any Means to an End                            238
+     XXXI. The Squaw-Man                                  241
+    XXXII. The Scorn of a Pure Woman                      245
+   XXXIII. Shanty Moir                                    251
+    XXXIV. The Bargain                                    256
+     XXXV. The Test of the Bottle                         261
+    XXXVI. The Snow-Burner Begins To Weaken               265
+   XXXVII. Into the Jaws of the Bear                      270
+  XXXVIII. MacGregor Roy                                  277
+    XXXIX. James MacGregor's Story                        283
+       XL. The White Man's Sentiment                      293
+      XLI. Shanty-Moir-Temperance Advocate                301
+     XLII. The Snow-Burner Works for Two                  305
+    XLIII. "The Penalty of a White Man's Mind"            309
+     XLIV. The Madness of "Hell-Camp" Reivers             316
+      XLV. A Surprise for Shanty Moir                     320
+     XLVI. A Fight that was a Fight                       327
+    XLVII. The Snow-Burner Pays                           332
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW BURNER
+
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I--HELP
+
+
+The brisk November sunrise, breaking over the dark jack-pines, lighted
+up the dozen snow-covered frame buildings comprising the so-called town
+of Rail Head, and presently reached in through the uncurtained windows
+of the Northern Light saloon, where it shone upon the curly head of
+young Toppy Treplin as, pillowed on his crossed forearms, it lay in
+repose on one of the saloon tables.
+
+It was a sad, strange place to find Toppy Treplin, one-time All-American
+halfback, but for the last four years all-around moneyed loafer and
+waster. Rail Head was far from the beaten path. It lay at the end of
+sixty miles of narrow-gauge track that rambled westward into the Big
+Woods from the Iron Range Railroad line, and it consisted mainly of a
+box-car depot, an alleged hotel and six saloons--none of the latter being
+in any too good repute with the better element round about.
+
+The existence of the saloons might have explained Toppy's presence in
+Rail Head had their character and wares been of a nature to attract one
+of his critical tastes; but in reality Toppy was there because the Iron
+Range Limited, bearing Harvey Duncombe's private hunting-car, had
+stopped for a moment the night before out where the narrow-gauge met the
+Iron Range Railroad tracks.
+
+Toppy, at that fated moment, was out on the observation platform alone.
+There had been a row and Toppy had rushed out in a black rage. Within,
+the car reeked with the mingled odours of cigarette-smoke and spilled
+champagne. Out of doors the first snowfall of the season, faintly tinted
+by a newly risen moon, lay unmarked, undefiled.
+
+A girl--small, young, brisk and business-like--alighted from the car ahead
+and walked swiftly across the station platform to the narrow-gauge train
+that stood waiting. The anger and champagne raging in him had moved
+Toppy to one of those wild pranks which had made his name among his
+fellows synonymous with irresponsibility.
+
+He would get away from it all, away from Harvey Duncombe and his
+champagne, and all that sort of thing. He would show them!
+
+Toppy had stepped off. The Limited suddenly glided away. Toppy lurched
+over to the narrow gauge, and that was the last thing he had remembered
+of that memorable night.
+
+As the sun now revealed him, Mr. Robert Lovejoy Treplin, in spite of his
+deplorable condition, was a figure to win attention of a not entirely
+unfavourable sort. Still clad in mackinaw and hunting-clothes, his two
+hundred pounds of bone and muscle and just a little too much fat were
+sprawled picturesquely over the chair and table, the six-foot
+gracefulness of him being obvious despite his rough apparel and awkward
+position.
+
+His cap had fallen off and the sun glinted on a head of boyish brown
+curls. It was only in the lazy, good-natured face, puffy and
+loose-lipped, that one might read how recklessly Toppy Treplin had lived
+since achieving his football honours four years before.
+
+The sun crept up and found his eyes, and Toppy stirred. Slowly, even
+painfully, he raised his head from the table and looked around him. The
+crudeness of his surroundings made him sit up with a start. He looked
+first out of the window at the snow-covered "street." Across the way he
+saw a small, unpainted building bearing a scraggly sign, "Hotel." Beyond
+this the jack-pines loomed in a solid wall.
+
+Toppy shuddered. He turned his face toward the man behind the bar, who
+had been regarding him for some time with a look of mingled surprise and
+amusement. Toppy shuddered again.
+
+The man was a half-breed, and he wore a red woollen shirt. Worse, there
+was not a sign of a mirror behind the bar. It was distressing.
+
+"Good morning, brother," said Toppy, concealing his repugnance. "Might I
+ask you for a little information this pleasant morning?"
+
+The half-breed grinned appreciatively but sceptically.
+
+"Little drink, I guess you mean, don't you?" said he. "Go 'head."
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+"Thank you, brother, thank you. I am sorely puzzled about two little
+matters--where am I anyway, and if so, how did I get here?"
+
+The grin on the half-breed's face broadened. He pointed at the table in
+front of Toppy.
+
+"You been sleeping there since 'bout midnight las' night," he exclaimed.
+
+Toppy waved his left hand to indicate his displeasure at the inadequacy
+of the bartender's reply.
+
+"Obvious, my dear Watson, obvious," he said. "I know that I'm at this
+table, because here I am; and I know I've been sleeping here because I
+just woke up. Let's broaden the range of our information. What town is
+this, if it is a town, and if it is, how did I happen to come here, may
+I ask?"
+
+The half-breed's grin disappeared, gradually to give place to an
+expression of amazement.
+
+"You mean to say you come to this town and don't know what town it is?"
+he demanded. "Then why you come? What you do here?"
+
+Toppy's brow corrugated in an expression of deep puzzlement.
+
+"That's another thing that's rather puzzling, too, brother," he replied.
+"Why did I come? I'd like to know that, too. Like very, very much to
+know that. Where am I, how did I come here, and why? Three questions I'd
+like very, very much to have answered."
+
+He sat for a moment in deep thought, then turned toward the bartender
+with the pleased look of a man who has found an inspiration.
+
+"I tell you what you do, brother--you answer the first two questions and
+in the light of that information I'll see if I can't ponder out the
+third."
+
+The half-breed leaned heavily across the single-plank bar and watched
+Toppy closely.
+
+"This town is Rail Head," he said slowly, as if speaking to some one of
+whose mental capacity he had great doubts. "You come here by last
+night's train. You bring the train-crew over to have a drink; then you
+fall asleep. You been sleeping ever since. Now you remember?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The puzzled look went out of Toppy's eyes.
+
+"Now I remember. Row with Harvey Duncombe. Wanted me to drink two to his
+one. Stepped outside. Saw little train. Saw little girl. Stepped off big
+train, got on little train, and here I am. Fine little business."
+
+"You went to sleep in the train coming up, the conductor told me,"
+volunteered the half-breed. "You told them you wanted to go as far as
+you could, so they took you up here to the end of the line. You remember
+now, eh, why you come here?"
+
+"Only too well, brother," replied Toppy wearily. "I--I just came to see
+your beautiful little city."
+
+The bartender laughed bitterly.
+
+"You come to a fine place. Didn't you ever hear 'bout Rail Head?" he
+asked. "I guess not, or you wouldn't have come. This town's the
+jumping-off place, that's what she is. It's the most God-forsaken,
+hopeless excuse for a town in the whole North Country. There's only two
+kind of business here--shipping men out to Hell Camp and skinning them
+when they come back. That's all. What you think of that for a fine town
+you've landed in, eh?"
+
+"Fine," said Toppy. "I see you love it dearly, indeed."
+
+The half-breed nodded grimly.
+
+"It's all right for me; I own this place. Anybody else is sucker to come
+here, though. You ain't a Bohunk fool, so I don't think you come to hire
+out for Hell Camp. You just got too drunk, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Toppy, yawning. "What's this Hell Camp thing?
+Pleasant little name."
+
+"An' pleasant little place," supplemented the man mockingly. "Ain't you
+never heard 'bout Hell Camp? 'Bout its boss--Reivers--the 'Snow-Burner'?
+Huh! Perhaps you want hire out there for job?"
+
+"Perhaps," agreed Toppy. "What is it?"
+
+"Oh, it ain't nothing so much. Just big log-camp run by man named
+Reivers--that's all. Indians call him Snow-Burner. Twenty-five, thirty
+miles out in the bush, at Cameron Dam. That's all. Very big camp.
+Everybody who comes to this town is going out there to work, or else
+hiding out."
+
+"I see. But why the name?"
+
+"Hell Camp?" The bartender's grin appeared again; then, as if a second
+thought on the matter had occurred to him, he assumed a noncommittal
+expression and yawned. "Oh, that's just nickname the boys give it. You
+see, the boys from camp come to town here in the Spring. Then sometimes
+they raise ----. That's why some people call it Hell Camp. That's all.
+Cameron Dam Camp is the right name."
+
+"I see." Toppy was wondering why the man should take the trouble to lie
+to him. Of course he was lying. Even Toppy, with his bleared eyes, could
+see that the man had started to berate Hell Camp even as he had berated
+Rail Head and had suddenly switched and said nothing. It hurt Toppy's
+head. It wasn't fair to puzzle him this morning. "I see. Just--just a
+nickname."
+
+"That's all," said the bartender. Briskly changing the subject he said:
+"Well, how 'bout it, stranger? You going to have eye-opener this
+morning?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Toppy absently. He again turned his attention to
+the view from the window. On the low stairs of the hotel were seated
+half a dozen men whose flat, ox-like faces and foreign clothing marked
+them for immigrants, newly arrived, of the Slavic type. Some sat on
+wooden trunks oddly marked, others stood with bundles beneath their
+arms. They waited stolidly, blankly, with their eyes on the hotel door,
+as oxen wait for the coming of the man who is going to feed them. Toppy
+looked on with idle interest.
+
+"I didn't think you could see anything like that this far away from
+Ellis Island," he said. "What are those fellows, brother?"
+
+"Bohunks," said the bartender with a contemptuous jerk of the head.
+"They waiting to hire out for the Cameron Dam Camp. The agent he comes
+to the hotel. Well, what you going to have?"
+
+"Bring me a whisky sour," said Toppy, without taking his eyes off the
+group across the street. The half-breed grinned and placed before him a
+bottle of whisky and a glass. Toppy frowned.
+
+"A whisky sour, I said," he protested.
+
+"When you get this far in the woods," laughed the man, "they all come
+out of one bottle. Drink up."
+
+Once more Toppy shuddered. He was bored by this time.
+
+"Your jokes up here are worse than your booze," he said wearily.
+
+He poured out a scant drink and sat with the glass in his hand while his
+eyes were upon the group across the street. He was about to drink when a
+stir among the men drew his attention. The door of the hotel opened
+briskly. Toppy suddenly set down his glass.
+
+The girl who had got on the narrow-gauge out at the junction the night
+before had come out and was standing on the stairs, looking about her
+with an expression which to Toppy seemed plainly to spell, "Help!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II--THE GIRL
+
+
+Toppy sat and stared across the street at her with a feeling much like
+awe. The girl was standing forth in the full morning sunlight, and
+Toppy's first impulse was to cross the street to her, his second to hide
+his face. She was small and young, the girl, and beautiful. She was a
+blonde, such a blonde as is found only in the North. The sun lighted up
+the aureole of light hair surrounding her head, so that even Toppy
+behind the windows of the Northern Light caught a vision of its
+fineness. Her cheeks bore the red of perfect health showing through a
+perfect, fair complexion, and even the thick red mackinaw which she wore
+did not hide the trimness of the figure beneath.
+
+"What in the dickens is she doing here?" gasped Toppy. "She doesn't
+belong in a place like this."
+
+But if this were true the girl apparently was entirely unconscious of
+it. Among that group of ox-like Slavs she stood with her little chin in
+the air, as much at home, apparently, as if those men were all her good
+friends. Only she looked about her now and then as if anxiously seeking
+a way out of a dilemma.
+
+"What can she be doing here?" mused Toppy. "A little, pretty thing like
+her! She ought to be back home with mother and father and brother and
+sister, going to dancing-school, and all the rest of it."
+
+Toppy was no stranger to pretty girls. He had met pretty girls by the
+score while at college. He had been adored by dozens. After college he
+had met still more. None of them had interested him to any inconvenient
+extent. After all, a man's friends are all men.
+
+But this girl, Toppy admitted, struck him differently. He had never seen
+a girl that struck him like this before. He pushed his glass to one
+side. He was bored no longer. For the first time in four years the full
+shame of his mode of living was driven home to him, for as he feasted
+his eyes on the sun-kissed vision across the street his decent instincts
+whispered that a man who squandered and swilled his life away just
+because he had money had no right to raise his eyes to this girl.
+
+"You're a waster, that's what you are," said Toppy to himself, "and
+she's one of those sweet----"
+
+He was on his feet before the sentence was completed. In her perplexity
+the girl had turned to the men about her and apparently had asked a
+question. At first their utter unresponsiveness indicated that they did
+not understand.
+
+Then they began to smile, looking at one another and at the girl. The
+brutal manner in which they fixed their eyes upon her sent the blood
+into Toppy's throat. White men didn't look at a woman that way.
+
+Then one of the younger men spoke to the girl. Toppy saw her start and
+look at him with parted lips. The group gathered more closely around.
+The young man spoke again, grimacing and smirking bestially, and Toppy
+waited for no more. He was a waster and half drunk; but after all he was
+a white man, of the same breed as the girl on the stairs, and he knew
+his job.
+
+He came across the snow-covered street like Toppy Treplin of old bent
+upon making a touchdown. Into the group he walked, head up, shouldering
+and elbowing carelessly. Toppy caught the young speaker by both
+shoulders and hurled him bodily back among his fellows. For an instant
+they faced Toppy, snarling, their hands cautiously sliding toward hidden
+knives. Then they grovelled, cringing instinctively before the better
+breed.
+
+Toppy turned to the girl and removed his cap. She had not cried out nor
+moved, and now she looked Toppy squarely in the eye. Toppy promptly hung
+his head. He had been thinking of her as something of a child. Now he
+saw his mistake. She was young, it is true--little over twenty
+perhaps--but there was an air of self-reliance and seriousness about her
+as if she had known responsibilities beyond her years. And her eyes were
+blue, Toppy saw--the perfect blue that went with her fair complexion.
+
+"I beg pardon," stammered Toppy. "I just happened to see--it looked as if
+they were getting fresh--so I thought I'd come across and--and see if
+there was anything--anything I could do."
+
+"Thank you," said the girl a little breathlessly. "Are--are you the
+agent?"
+
+Toppy shook his head. The look of perplexity instantly returned to the
+girl's face.
+
+"I'm sorry; I wish I was," said Toppy. "If you'll tell me who the agent
+is, and so on--" he included most of the town of Rail Head in a
+comprehensive glance--"I'll probably be able to find him in a hurry."
+
+"Oh, I couldn't think of troubling you. Thank you ever so much, though,"
+she said hastily. "They told me in the hotel that he was outside here
+some place. I'll find him myself, thank you."
+
+She stepped off the stairs into the snow of the street, every inch and
+line of her, from her solid tan boots to her sensible tassel cap,
+expressing the self-reliance and independence of the girl who is
+accustomed and able to take care of herself under trying circumstances.
+
+The bright sun smote her eyes and she blinked, squinting deliciously.
+She paused for a moment, threw back her head and filled her lungs to the
+full with great drafts of the invigorating November air. Her mackinaw
+rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and more colour came rushing into
+the roses of her cheeks. Apparently she had forgotten the existence of
+the Slavs, who still stood glowering at her and Toppy.
+
+"Isn't it glorious?" she said, looking up at Toppy with her eyes
+puckered prettily from the sun. "Doesn't it just make you glad you're
+alive?"
+
+"You bet it does!" said Toppy eagerly. He saw his opportunity to
+continue the conversation and hastened to take advantage. "I never knew
+air could be as exciting as this. I never felt anything like it. It's my
+first experience up here in the woods; I'm an utter stranger around
+here."
+
+Having volunteered this information, he waited eagerly. The girl merely
+nodded.
+
+"Of course. Anybody could see that," she said simply.
+
+Toppy felt slightly abashed.
+
+"Then you--you're not a stranger around here?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head, the tassels of her cap and her aureole of light hair
+tossing gloriously.
+
+"I'm a stranger here in this town," she said, "but I've lived up here in
+the woods, as you call it, all my life except the two years I was away
+at school. Not right in the woods, of course, but in small towns around.
+My father was a timber-estimator before he was hurt, and naturally we
+had to live close to the woods."
+
+"Naturally," agreed Toppy, though he knew nothing about it. He tried to
+imagine any of the girls he knew back East accepting a stranger as a man
+and a brother who could be trusted at first hand, and he failed.
+
+"I say," he said as she stepped away. "Just a moment, please. About this
+agent-thing. Won't you please let me go and look for him?" He waved his
+hands at the six saloons. "You see, there aren't many places here that a
+lady can go looking for a man in."
+
+She hesitated, frowning at the lowly groggeries that constituted the
+major part of Rail Head's buildings.
+
+"That's so," she said with a smile.
+
+"Of course it is," said Toppy eagerly. "And the chances are that your
+man is in one of them, no matter who he is, because that's about the
+only place he can be here. You tell me who he is, or what he is, and
+I'll go hunt him up."
+
+"That's very kind of you." She hesitated for a moment, then accepted his
+offer without further parley. "It's the employment agent of the Cameron
+Dam Company that I'm looking for. I am to meet him here, according to a
+letter they sent me, and he is to furnish a team and driver to take me
+out to the Dam."
+
+Then she added calmly, "I'm going to keep books out there this Winter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III--TOPPY GETS A JOB
+
+
+Toppy gasped. In the first place, he had not been thinking of her as a
+"working girl." None of the girls that he knew belonged to that class.
+The notion that she, with the childish dimple in her chin and the roses
+in her cheeks, was a girl who made her own living was hard to
+assimilate; the idea that she was going out to a camp in the woods--out
+to Hell Camp--to work was absolutely impossible!
+
+"Keep books?" said Toppy, bewildered. "Do they keep books in a--in a
+logging-camp?"
+
+It was her turn to look surprised.
+
+"Do you know anything about Cameron Dam?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing," admitted Toppy. "It's a logging-camp, though, isn't it?"
+
+"Rather more than that, as I understand it," she replied. "They are
+building a town out there, according to my letter. There are over two
+hundred people there now. At present they're doing nothing but logging
+and building the dam; but they say they've found ore out there, and in
+the Spring the railroad is coming and the town will open up."
+
+"And--and you're going to keep books there this Winter?"
+
+She nodded. "They pay well. They're paying me seventy-five dollars a
+month and my board."
+
+"And you don't know anything about the place?"
+
+"Except what they've written in the letter engaging me."
+
+"And still you're going out there--to work?"
+
+"Of course," she said cheerfully. "Seventy-five-dollar jobs aren't to be
+picked up every day around here."
+
+"I see," said Toppy. He remembered Harvey Duncombe's champagne bill of
+the night before and grew thoughtful. He himself had shuddered a short
+while before, at waking in a bar where there was no mirror, and he had
+planned to wire Harvey for five hundred to take him back to
+civilisation. And here was this delicate little girl--as delicate to look
+upon as any of the petted and pampered girls he knew back
+East--cheerfully, even eagerly, setting her face toward the wilderness
+because therein lay a job paying the colossal sum of seventy-five
+dollars a month! And she was going alone!
+
+A reckless impulse swayed Toppy. He decided not to wire Harvey.
+
+"I see," he said thoughtfully. "I'll go find this agent. You'd better
+wait inside the hotel."
+
+He crossed the street and systematically began to search through the six
+saloons. In the third place he found his man shaking dice with an
+Indian. The agent was a lean, long-nosed individual who wore thick
+glasses and talked through his nose.
+
+"Yes, I'm the Cameron Dam agent," he drawled, curiously eying Toppy from
+head to toe. "Simmons is my name. What can I do for you?"
+
+"I want a job," said Toppy. "A job out at Hell Camp."
+
+The agent laughed shortly at the name.
+
+"You're wise, are you?" he said. "And still you want a job out there?
+Well, I'm sorry. That load of Bohunks across the street fills me up. I
+can't use any more rough labour just at present. I'm looking for a
+blacksmith's helper, but I guess that ain't you."
+
+"That's me," said Toppy resolutely. "That's the job I want--blacksmith's
+helper. That's my job."
+
+The agent looked him over with the critical eye of a man skilfully
+appraising bone and muscle.
+
+"You're big enough, that's sure," he drawled. "You've got the shoulders
+and arms, too, but--let's see your hands."
+
+Toppy held up his hands, huge in size, but entirely innocent of
+callouses or other signs of wear. The agent grinned.
+
+"Soft as a woman's," he said scornfully. "When did you ever do any
+blacksmithing? Long time ago, wasn't it? Before you were born, I guess."
+
+Toppy's right hand shot out and fell upon the agent's thin arm. Slowly
+and steadily he squeezed until the man writhed and grimaced with pain.
+
+"Wow! Leggo!" The agent peered over his thick glasses with something
+like admiration in his eyes. "Say, you're there with the grip, all
+right, big fellow. Where'd you get it?"
+
+"Swinging a sledge," lied Toppy solemnly. "And I've come here to get
+that job."
+
+Simmons shook his head.
+
+"I can't do it," he protested. "If I should send you out and you
+shouldn't make good, Reivers would be sore."
+
+"Who's this man Reivers?"
+
+The agent's eyes over his glasses expressed surprise.
+
+"I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?" he said.
+
+"Oh, I'm wise enough," said Toppy impatiently. "I know what it is. But
+who's this Reivers?"
+
+"He's the boss," said Simmons shortly. "D'you mean to say you never
+heard about Hell-Camp Reivers, the Snow-Burner?"
+
+"No, I haven't," replied Toppy impatiently. "But that doesn't make any
+difference. You send me out there; I'll make good, don't worry." He
+paused and sized his man up. "Come over here, Simmons," he said with a
+significant wink, leading the way toward the door. "I want that job; I
+want it badly." Toppy dived into his pockets. Two bills came to
+light--two twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons' hand. "That's
+how bad I want it. Now how about it?"
+
+The fashion in which Simmons' thin fingers closed upon the money told
+Toppy that he was not mistaken in the agent's character.
+
+"You'll be taking your own chances," warned Simmons, carefully pocketing
+the money. "If you don't make good--well, you'll have to explain to
+Reivers, that's all. You must have an awful good reason for wanting to
+go out."
+
+"I have."
+
+"Hiding from something, mebbe?" suggested Simmons.
+
+"Maybe," said Toppy. "And, say--there's a young lady over at the hotel
+who's looking for you. Said you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get
+out to Cameron Dam."
+
+An evil smile broke over the agent's thin face as he moved toward the
+door.
+
+"The new bookkeeper, I suppose," he said, winking at Toppy. "Aha! Now I
+understand why you----"
+
+Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His fingers sank into the
+man's withered biceps.
+
+"No, you don't understand," he hissed grimly. "Get that? You don't
+understand anything about it."
+
+"All right," snapped the cowed man. "Leggo my arm. I was just joshing.
+You can take a joke, can't you? Well, then, come along. As long as
+you're going out you might as well go at once. I've got to get a double
+team, anyhow, for the lady, and you've got to start now to make it
+before dark. Ready to start now?"
+
+"All ready," said Toppy.
+
+At the door the agent paused.
+
+"Say, you haven't said anything about wages yet," he said quizzically.
+
+"That's so," said Toppy, as if he had forgotten. "How much am I going to
+get?"
+
+"Sixty a month."
+
+The agent couldn't understand why the new man should laugh. It struck
+Toppy as funny that a little girl with a baby dimple in her chin should
+be earning more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey Duncombe
+and the rest of the bunch would have thought had they known.
+
+Toppy followed the agent to the stable behind the hotel, where Simmons
+routed out an old hunchbacked driver who soon brought forth a team of
+rangy bays drawing a light double-seated sleigh.
+
+"Company outfit," explained Simmons. "Have to have a team; one horse
+can't make it. You can ride in the front seat with the driver. The lady
+will ride behind."
+
+As Toppy clambered in Simmons hurriedly whispered something in the ear
+of the driver, who was fastening a trace. The hunchback nodded.
+
+"I got this job because I can keep my mouth shut," he muttered. "Don't
+you worry about anybody pumping me."
+
+He stepped in beside Toppy; and the bays, prancing in the snow, went
+around to the front of the hotel on the run. There was a wait of a few
+minutes; then Simmons came out, followed by the girl carrying her
+suitcase. Toppy sprang out and took it from her hand.
+
+"You people are going to be together on a long drive, so I'd better
+introduce you," said Simmons. "Miss Pearson, Mr. ----"
+
+"Treplin," said Toppy honestly.
+
+"Treplin," concluded Simmons. "New bookkeeper, new blacksmith's helper.
+Get in the back seat, Miss Pearson. Cover yourself well up with those
+robes. Bundle in--that's right. Put the suitcase under your feet. That's
+right. All right, Jerry," he drawled to the driver. "You'd better keep
+going pretty steady to make it before dark."
+
+"Don't nobody need to tell me my business," said the surly hunchback,
+tightening the lines; and without any more ado they were off, the snow
+flying from the heels of the mettlesome bays.
+
+For the first few miles the horses, fresh from the stable and
+exhilarated to the dancing-point by the sun, air and snow, provided
+excitement which prevented any attempt at conversation. Then, when their
+dancing and shying had ceased and they had settled down to a steady,
+long-legged jog that placed mile after mile of the white road behind
+them with the regularity of a machine, Toppy turned his eyes toward the
+girl in the back seat.
+
+He quickly turned them to the front again. Miss Pearson, snuggled down
+to her chin in the thick sleigh-robes, her eyes squinting deliciously
+beneath the sharp sun, was studying him with a frankness that was
+disconcerting, and Toppy, probably for the first time in his life, felt
+himself gripped by a great shyness and confusion. There was wonderment
+in the girl's eyes, and suspicion.
+
+"She's wise," thought Toppy sadly. "She knows I've been hitting it up,
+and she knows I made up my mind to come out here after I talked with
+her. A fine opinion she must have of me! Well, I deserve it. But just
+the same I've got to see the thing through now. I can't stand for her
+going out all alone to a place with a reputation like Hell Camp. I'm a
+dead one with her, all right; but I'll stick around and see that she
+gets a square deal."
+
+Consequently the drive, which Toppy had hoped would lead to more
+conversation and a closer acquaintance with the girl, resolved itself
+into a silent, monotonous affair which made him distinctly
+uncomfortable. He looked back at her again. This time also he caught her
+eyes full upon him, but this time after an instant's scrutiny she looked
+away with a trace of hardness about her lips.
+
+"I'm in bad at the start with her, sure," groaned Toppy inwardly. "She
+doesn't want a thing to do with me, and quite right at that."
+
+His tentative efforts at opening a conversation with the driver met
+instant and convincing failure.
+
+"I hear they've got quite a place out here," began Toppy casually.
+
+"None of my business if they have," grunted the driver.
+
+Toppy laughed.
+
+"You're a sociable brute! Why don't you bark and be done with it?"
+
+The driver viciously pulled the team to a dead stop and turned upon
+Toppy with a look that could come only from a spirit of complete
+malevolence.
+
+"Don't try to talk to me, young feller," he snapped, showing old yellow
+teeth. "My job is to haul you out there, and that's all. I don't talk.
+Don't waste your time trying to make me. Giddap!"
+
+He cut viciously at the horses with his whip, pulled his head into the
+collar of his fur coat with the motion of a turtle retiring into its
+shell, and for the rest of the drive spoke only to the horses.
+
+Toppy, snubbed by the driver and feeling himself shunned, perhaps even
+despised, by Miss Pearson, now had plenty of time to think over the
+situation calmly. The crisp November air whipping his face as the sleigh
+sped steadily along drove from his brain the remaining fumes of Harvey
+Buncombe's champagne. He saw the whole affair clearly now, and he
+promptly called himself a great fool.
+
+What business was it of his if a girl wanted to go out to work in a
+place like Hell Camp? Probably it was all right. Probably there was no
+necessity, no excuse for his having made a fool of himself by going with
+her. Why had he done it, anyhow? Getting interested in anything because
+of a girl was strange conduct for him. He couldn't call to mind a single
+tangible reason for his actions. He had acted on the impulse, as he had
+done scores of times before; and, as he had also done scores of times
+before, he felt that he had made a fool of himself.
+
+He tried to catch the girl's eyes once more, to read in them some sign
+of relenting, some excuse for opening a conversation. But as he turned
+his head Miss Pearson also turned and looked away with uncompromising
+severity. Toppy studied the purity of her profile, the innocence of the
+baby dimple in her chin, out of the corner of his eye. And as he turned
+and glanced at the evil face of the hunchback driver he settled himself
+with a sigh, and thought--
+
+"Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that I've been a fool, I am
+glad that I'm here."
+
+At noon the road plunged out of the scant jack-pine forest into the
+gloom of a hemlock swamp. Toppy shuddered as he contemplated what the
+fate of a man might be who should be unfortunate enough to get lost in
+that swamp. A mile in the swamp, on a slight knoll, they came to a tiny
+cabin guarding a gate across the road. An old, bearded woodsman came out
+of the cabin and opened the gate, and the hunchback pulled up and
+proceeded to feed his team.
+
+"Dinner's waiting inside," called the gate-tender. "Come in and eat,
+miss--and you, too; I suppose you're hungry?" he added to Toppy.
+
+"And hurry up, too," growled the hunchback. "I give you twenty minutes."
+
+"Thank you very much," said the girl, diving into her suitcase. "I've
+brought my own lunch."
+
+She brought out some sandwiches and proceeded to nibble at them without
+moving from the sleigh. Toppy tumbled into the cabin in company with the
+hunchback driver. A rough meal was on the table and they fell to without
+a word. Toppy noticed that the old woodsman sat on a bench near the door
+where he could keep an eye on the road. Above the bench hung a pair of
+field-glasses, a repeating shotgun and a high-power Winchester rifle.
+
+"Any hunting around here?" asked Toppy cheerily.
+
+"Sometimes," said the old watcher with a smile that made Toppy wonder.
+
+He did not pursue the subject, for there was something about the lonely
+cabin, the bearded old man, and the rifle on the wall that suggested
+something much more grim than sport.
+
+The driver soon bolted his meal and went back to the sleigh. Toppy
+followed, and twenty minutes after pulling up they were on the road
+again. With each mile that they passed now the swamp grew wilder and the
+gloom of the wilderness more oppressive. To right and left among the
+trees Toppy made out stretches of open water, great springs and little
+creeks which never froze and which made the swamp even in Winter a
+treacherous morass.
+
+Toward the end of the short afternoon the swamp suddenly gave way to a
+rough, untimbered ridge. Red rocks, which Toppy later learned contained
+iron ore, poked their way like jagged teeth through the snow. The sleigh
+mounted the ridge, the runners grating on bare rock and dirt, dipped
+down into a ravine between two ridges, swung off almost at right angles
+in a cleft in the hills--and before Toppy realised that the end of the
+drive had come, they were in full view of a large group of log buildings
+on the edge of a dense pine forest and were listening to the roar of the
+waters of Cameron Dam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV--"HELL-CAMP" REIVERS
+
+
+In the face of things there was nothing about the place to suggest that
+it deserved the title of Hell Camp. The Cameron Dam Camp, as Toppy saw
+it now, consisted of seven neat log buildings. Of these the first six
+were located on the road which led into the camp, three on each side.
+These buildings were twice as large as the ordinary log buildings which
+Toppy had seen in the woods; but they were thoroughly dwarfed and
+overshadowed by the seventh, which lay beyond them, and into the
+enormous doorway of which the road seemed to disappear. This building
+was larger than the other six combined--was built of huge logs,
+apparently fifteen feet high; and its wall, which stretched across the
+road, seemed to have no windows or openings of any kind save a great
+double door.
+
+Toppy had no time for a careful scrutiny of the place, as the hunchback
+swiftly pulled up before the first building of the camp, a well-built
+double-log affair with large front windows and a small sign, "Office and
+Store." Directly across the road from this building was one bearing the
+sign, "Blacksmith Shop," and Toppy gazed with keen curiosity at a short
+man with white hair and broad shoulders who, with a blacksmith's hammer
+in his hand, came to the door of the shop as they drove up. Probably
+this was the man for whom he was to work.
+
+"Hey, Jerry," greeted the blacksmith with a burr in his speech that
+labelled him unmistakably as a Scot.
+
+"Hey, Scotty," replied the hunchback.
+
+"Did ye bring me a helper?"
+
+"Yes," grunted Jerry.
+
+"Good!" said the blacksmith, and returned to his anvil.
+
+The hunchback turned to the girl as soon as the team had come to a
+standstill.
+
+"This is where you go," he said, indicating the office with a nod.
+"You," he grunted to Toppy, "sit right where you are till we go see the
+boss."
+
+An Indian squaw, nearly as broad as she was tall, came waddling out of
+the store as Miss Pearson stepped stiffly from the sleigh. Toppy wished
+for courage to get out and carry the girl's suitcase, but he feared that
+his action would be misinterpreted; so he sat still, eagerly watching
+out of the corner of his eyes.
+
+"I carry um," said the squaw as the girl dragged forth her baggage. "You
+go in."
+
+Then the sleigh drove abruptly ahead toward the great building at the
+end of the road, and Toppy's final view of the scene was Miss Pearson
+stumping stiffly into the office-building with the squaw, the suitcase
+held in her arms, waddling behind. Miss Pearson did not look in his
+direction.
+
+And now Toppy had his first shock. For he saw that the building toward
+which they were hurrying was not a building at all, but merely a
+stockade-wall, which seemed to surround all of the camp except the six
+buildings which were outside. What he had thought a huge doorway was in
+reality a great gate.
+
+This gate swung open at their approach, and Toppy's second shock came
+when he saw that the two hard-faced men who opened it carried in the
+crooks of their arms wicked-looking, short-barrelled repeating shotguns.
+One of the men caught the horses by the head as soon as they were
+through the gate, and brought them to a dead stop, while the other
+closed the gate behind them.
+
+"Can't you see the boss is busy?" snapped the man who had stopped the
+team. "You wait right here till he's through."
+
+Toppy now saw that they had driven into a quadrangle, three sides of
+which were composed of long, low, log buildings with doors and windows
+cut at frequent intervals, the fourth side being formed by the
+stockade-wall through which they had just passed. The open space which
+thus lay between four walls of solid logs was perhaps fifty yards long
+by twenty-five yards wide. In his first swift sight of the place Toppy
+saw that, with the stockade-gate closed and two men with riot-guns on
+guard, the place was nothing more nor less than an effective prison.
+Then his attention was riveted spellbound by what was taking place in
+the yard.
+
+On the sunny side of the yard a group of probably a dozen men were
+huddled against the log wall. Two things struck Toppy as he looked at
+them--their similarity to the group of Slavs he had seen back in Rail
+Head, and the complete terror in their faces as they cringed tightly
+against the log wall. Perhaps ten feet in front of them, and facing
+them, stood a man alone. And Toppy, as he beheld the terror with which
+the dozen shrank back from the one, and as he looked at the man, knew
+that he was looking upon Hell-Camp Reivers, the man who was called The
+Snow-Burner.
+
+Toppy Treplin was not an impressionable young man. He had lived much and
+swiftly and among many kinds of men, and it took something remarkable in
+the man-line to surprise him. But the sight of Reivers brought from him
+a start, and he sat staring, completely fascinated by the Manager's
+presence.
+
+It was not the size of Reivers that held him, for Toppy at first glance
+judged correctly that Reivers and himself might have come from the same
+mold so far as height and weight were concerned. Neither was it the
+terrible physical power which fairly reeked from the man; for though
+Reivers' rough clothing seemed merely light draperies on the huge
+muscles that lay beneath, Toppy had played with strong men,
+professionals and amateurs, enough to be blas� in the face of a physical
+Colossus. It was the calm, ghastly brutality of the man, the complete
+brutality of an animal, dominated by a human intelligence, that held
+Toppy spellbound.
+
+Reivers, as he stood there alone, glowering at the poor wretches who
+cowered from him like pygmies, was like a tiger preparing to spring and
+carefully calculating where his claws and fangs might sink in with most
+damage to his victims. He stood with his feet close together, his thumbs
+hooked carelessly in his trousers pockets, his head thrust far forward.
+Toppy had a glimpse of a long, thin nose, thin lips parted in a sneer,
+heavily browed eyes, and, beneath the back-thrust cap, a mass of curly
+light hair--hair as light as the girl's! Then Reivers spoke.
+
+"Rosky!" he said in a voice that was half snarl, half bellow.
+
+There was a troubled movement among the dozen men huddled against the
+wall, but there came no answer.
+
+"Rosky! Step out!" commanded Reivers in a tone whose studied ferocity
+made Toppy shudder.
+
+In response, a tall, broad-shouldered Slav, the oldest and largest man
+in the group, stepped sullenly out and stood a yard in front of his
+fellows. He had taken off his cap and held it tightly in his clenched
+right hand, and the expression on his flat face as he stood with hanging
+head and scowled at Reivers was one half of fear and half of defiance.
+
+"You no can hit me," he muttered doggedly. "I citizen; I got first
+papers."
+
+Reivers's manner underwent a change.
+
+"Hit you?" he repeated softly. "Who wants to hit you? I just want to
+talk with you. I hear you're thinking of quitting. I hear you've planned
+to take these fellows with you when you go. How about it, Rosky?"
+
+"I got papers," said the man sullenly. "I citizen; I quit job when I
+want."
+
+"Yes?" said Reivers gently. It was like a tiger playing with a hedgehog,
+and Toppy sickened. "But you signed to stay here six months, didn't
+you?"
+
+The gentleness of the Manager had deceived the thick-witted Slav and he
+grew bold.
+
+"I drunk when I sign," he said loudly. "All these fellow drunk when they
+sign. I quit. They quit. You no can keep us here if we no want stay."
+
+"I can't?" Still Reivers saw fit to play with his victim.
+
+"No," said the man. "And you no dare hit us again, no."
+
+"No?" purred Reivers softly. "No, certainly not; I wouldn't hit you.
+You're quite right, Rosky. I won't hit you; no."
+
+He was standing at least seven feet from his man, his feet close
+together, his thumbs still hooked in his trousers pockets. Suddenly, and
+so swiftly that Rosky did not have time to move, Reivers took a step
+forward and shot out his right foot. His boot seemed barely to touch the
+shin-bone of Rosky's right leg, but Toppy heard the bone snap as the
+Slav, with a shriek of pain and terror, fell face downward, prone in the
+trampled snow at Reivers' feet.
+
+And Reivers did not look at him. He was standing as before, as if
+nothing had happened, as if he had not moved. His eyes were upon the
+other men, who, appalled at their leader's fate, huddled more closely
+against the log wall.
+
+"Well, how about it?" demanded Reivers icily after a long silence. "Any
+more of you fellows think you want to quit?"
+
+Half of the dozen cried out in terror:
+
+"No, no! We no quit. Please, boss; we no quit."
+
+A smile of complete contempt curled Reivers' thin upper lip.
+
+"You poor scum, of course you ain't going to quit," he sneered. "You'll
+stay here and slave away until I'm through with you. And don't you even
+dare think of quitting. Rosky thought he'd kept his plans mighty
+secret--thought I wouldn't know what he was planning. You see what
+happened to him.
+
+"I know everything that's going on in this camp. If you don't believe
+it, try it out and see. Now pick this thing up--" he stirred the groaning
+Rosky contemptuously with his foot--"and carry him into his bunk. I'll be
+around and set his leg when I get ready. Then get back to the rock-pile
+and make up for the time it's taken to teach you this lesson."
+
+The brutality of the thing had frozen Toppy motionless where he sat in
+the sleigh. At the same time he was conscious of a thrill of admiration
+for the dominant creature who had so contemptuously crippled a fellow
+man. A brute Reivers certainly was, and well he deserved the name of
+Hell-Camp Reivers; but a born captain he was, too, though his dominance
+was of a primordial sort.
+
+Turning instantly from his victim as from a piece of business that is
+finished, Reivers looked around and came toward the sleigh. Some
+primitive instinct prompted Toppy to step out and stretch himself
+leisurely, his long arms above his head, his big chest inflated to the
+limit. At the sight of him a change came over Reivers' face. The
+brutality and contempt went out of it like a flash. His eyes lighted up
+with pleasure at the sight of Toppy's magnificent proportions, and he
+smiled a quick smile of comradeship, such as one smiles when he meets a
+fellow and equal, and held out his hand to Toppy.
+
+"University man, I'll wager," he said, in the easy voice of a man of
+culture. "Glad to see you; more than glad! These beasts are palling on
+me. They're so cursed physical--no mind, no spirit in them. Nothing but
+so many pounds of meat and bone. Old Campbell, my blacksmith, is the
+only other intelligent being in camp, and he's Scotch and believes in
+predestination and original sin, so his conversation's rather trying for
+a steady diet."
+
+Toppy shook hands, amazed beyond expression. Except for his shaggy
+eyebrows--brows that somehow reminded Toppy of the head of a bear he had
+once shot--Reivers now was the sort of man one would expect to meet in
+the University Club rather than in a logging-camp. The brute had
+vanished, the gentleman had appeared; and Toppy was forced to smile in
+answer to Reivers' genial smile of greeting. And yet, somewhere back in
+Reivers' blue eyes Toppy saw lurking something which said, "I am your
+master--doubt it if you dare."
+
+"I hired out as blacksmith's helper," he explained. "My name's Treplin."
+
+He did not take his eyes from Reivers'. Somehow he had the sensation
+that Reivers' will and his own had leaped to a grapple.
+
+Reivers laughed aloud in friendly fashion.
+
+"Blacksmith's helper, eh?" he said. "That's good; that's awfully good!
+Well, old man, I don't care what you hired out for, or what your right
+name is; you're a developed human being and you'll be somebody to talk
+to when these brutes grow too tiresome." He turned to Jerry, the driver.
+"Well?" he said curtly.
+
+"She's in the office now," he said.
+
+"All right." Reivers turned and went briskly toward the gate. "Turn Mr.
+Treplin over to Campbell. You'll live with Campbell, Treplin," he called
+over his shoulder, as he went through the gate. "And you hit the back
+trail, Jerry, right away."
+
+As Jerry swung the team around Toppy saw that Reivers was going toward
+the office with long, eager strides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V--TOPPY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION
+
+
+Old Campbell, the blacksmith, had knocked off from the day's work when,
+a few minutes later, Toppy stepped from the sleigh before the door of
+the shop.
+
+"Go through the shop to that room in the back," said Jerry. "You'll find
+him in there." And he drove off without another word.
+
+Toppy walked in and knocked at a door in a partition across the rear of
+the shop.
+
+"Come in," spluttered a moist, cheery voice, and Toppy entered. The old
+blacksmith, naked to the waist and soaped from shoulders to ears, looked
+up from the steaming tub in which he was carefully removing every trace
+of the day's smut. He peered sharply at Toppy, and at the sight of the
+young man's good-natured face he smiled warmly through the suds.
+
+"Come in, come in. Shut the door," he cried, plunging back into the hot
+water. "I tak' it that you're my new helper? Well--" he wiped the suds
+from his eyes and looked Toppy over--"though it's plain ye never did a
+day's blacksmithing in your life, I bid ye welcome, nevertheless. Ye
+look like an educated man. Well, 'twill be a pleasure and an honour for
+me to teach ye something more important than all ye've learned
+before--and that is, how to work.
+
+"I see ye cam' withoot baggage of any kind. Go ye now across to the
+store before it closes and draw yerself two blankets for yer bunk. By
+the time you're back I'll have our supper started and then we'll proceed
+to get acqua'nted."
+
+"Tell me!" exploded Toppy, who could hold in no longer. "What kind of a
+man or beast is this Reivers? Why, I just saw him deliberately break a
+man's leg out there in the yard! What kind of a place is this, anyhow--a
+penal colony?"
+
+Campbell turned away and picked up a towel before replying.
+
+"Reivers is a great man who worships after strange gods," he said
+solemnly. "But you'll have plenty of time to learn about that later. Go
+ye over to the store now without further waiting. Ye'll find them closed
+if ye dally longer; and then ye'll have a cold night, for there's no
+blankets here for your bunk. Hustle, lad; we'll talk about things after
+supper."
+
+Toppy obeyed cheerfully. It was growing dark now, and as he stepped out
+of the shop he saw the squaw lighting the lamps in the building across
+the street. Toppy crossed over and found the door open. Inside there was
+a small hallway with two doors, one labelled "Store," the other
+"Office." Toppy was about to enter the store, when he heard Miss
+Pearson's voice in the office, and her first words, which came plainly
+through the partition, made him pause.
+
+"Mr. Reivers," she was saying in tones that she struggled to make firm,
+"you know that if I had known you were running this camp I would never
+have come here. You deceived me. You signed the name of Simmons to your
+letter. You knew that if you had signed your own name I would not be
+here. You tricked me.
+
+"And you promised solemnly last Summer when I told you I never could
+care for you that you would never trouble me again. How could you do
+this? You've got the reputation among men of never breaking your word.
+Why couldn't you--why couldn't you keep your word with me--a woman?"
+
+Toppy, playing the role of eavesdropper for the first time, scarcely
+breathed as he caught the full import of these words. Then Reivers began
+to speak, his deep voice rich with earnestness and feeling.
+
+"I will--I am keeping my word to you, Helen," he said. "I said I would
+not trouble you again; and I will not. It's true that I did not let you
+know that I was running this camp; and I did it because I wanted you to
+have this job, and I knew you wouldn't come if you knew I was here. You
+wouldn't let me give you, or even loan you, the three hundred dollars
+necessary for your father's operation.
+
+"I know you, Helen, and I know that you haven't had a happy day since
+you were told that your father would be a well man after an operation
+and you couldn't find the money to pay for it. I knew you were going to
+work in hopes of earning it. I had this place to fill in the office
+here; I was authorised to pay as high as seventy-five dollars for a good
+bookkeeper. Naturally I thought of you.
+
+"I knew there was no other place where you could earn seventy-five
+dollars a month, and save it. I knew you wouldn't come if I wrote you
+over my own name. So I signed Simmons' name, and you came. I said I
+would not trouble you any more, and I keep my word. The situation is
+this: you will be in charge of this office--if you stay; I am in charge
+of the camp. You will have little or nothing to do with me; I will
+manage so that you will need to see me only when absolutely necessary.
+Your living-rooms are in the rear of the office. I live in the stockade.
+Tilly, the squaw, will cook and wash for you, and do the hard work in
+the store. In four months you will have the three hundred dollars that
+you want for your father.
+
+"I had much rather you would accept it from me as a loan on a simple
+business basis; but as you won't, this is the next best thing. And you
+mustn't feel that you are accepting any favour from me. On the contrary,
+you will, if you stay, be solving a big problem for me. I simply can not
+handle accounts. A strange bookkeeper could rob me and the company
+blind, and I'd never know it. I know you won't do that; and I know that
+you're efficient.
+
+"That's the situation. I am keeping my word; I will not trouble you. If
+you decide to accept, go in and take off your hat and coat and tell
+Tilly to prepare supper for you. She will obey your orders blindly; I
+have told her to. If you decide that you don't want to stay, say the
+word and I will have one of the work-teams hooked up and you can go back
+to Rail Head to-night.
+
+"But whichever you do, Helen, please remember that I have not broken--and
+never will break--my promise to you."
+
+Before Reivers had begun to speak Toppy had hated the man as a
+contemptible sneak guilty of lying to get the girl at his mercy. The end
+of the Manager's speech left him bewildered. One couldn't help wanting
+to believe every word that Reivers said, there were so much manliness
+and sincerity in his tone. On the other hand, Toppy had seen his face
+when he was handling the unfortunate Rosky, and the unashamed brute that
+had showed itself then did not fit with this remarkable speech. Then
+Toppy heard Reivers coming toward the door.
+
+"I will leave you; you can make up your mind alone," he said. "I've got
+to attend to one of the men who has been hurt. If you decide to go back
+to Rail Head, tell Tilly, and she'll hunt me up and I'll send a team
+over right away."
+
+He stepped briskly out in the hallway and saw Toppy standing with his
+hand on the door of the store.
+
+"Oh, hello, there!" he called out cheerily. "Campbell tell you to draw
+your blankets? That's the first step in the process of becoming a--guest
+at Hell Camp. Get a pair of XX; they're the warmest."
+
+He passed swiftly out of the building.
+
+"I say, Treplin," he called back from a distance, "did you ever set a
+broken leg?"
+
+"Never," said Toppy.
+
+"I'll give you 'Davis on Fractures' to read up on," said Reivers with a
+laugh. "I think I'll appoint you M.D. to this camp. 'Doctor Treplin.'
+How would that be?"
+
+His careless laughter came floating back as he made his way swiftly to
+the stockade.
+
+For a moment Toppy stood irresolute. Then he did something that required
+more courage from him than anything he had done before in his life. He
+stepped boldly across the hallway and entered the office, closing the
+door behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI--"NICE BOY!"
+
+
+"Miss Pearson!" Toppy spoke as he crossed the threshold; then he stopped
+short.
+
+The girl was sitting in a big chair before a desk in the farther corner
+of the room. She was dressed just as she had been on the drive; she had
+not removed cap, coat or gloves since arriving. Her hands lay palms up
+in her lap, her square little shoulders sagged, and her face was pale
+and troubled. A tiny crease of worry had come between her wonderful blue
+eyes, and her gaze wandered uncertainly, as if seeking help in the face
+of a problem that had proved too hard for her to handle alone. At the
+sight of Toppy, instead of giving way to a look of relief, her troubled
+expression deepened. She started. She seemed even to shrink from him.
+The words froze in Toppy's mouth and he stood stock-still.
+
+"Don't!" he groaned boyishly. "Please don't look at me like that, Miss
+Pearson! I--I'm not that sort. I want to help you--if you need it. I heard
+what Reivers just said. I----What do you take me for, anyhow? A mucker who
+would force himself upon a lady?"
+
+The anguish in his tone and in his honest, good-natured countenance was
+too real to be mistaken. He had cried out from the depths of a clean
+heart which had been stirred strangely, and the woman in the girl
+responded with quick sympathy. She looked at him with a look that would
+have aroused the latent manhood in a cad--which Toppy was not--and Toppy,
+in his eagerness, found that he could look back.
+
+"Why did you come out here?" she asked plaintively. "Why did you decide
+to follow me, after you had heard that I was coming here? I know you did
+that; you hadn't intended coming here until you heard. What made you do
+it?"
+
+"Because you came here," said Toppy honestly.
+
+"But why--why----"
+
+Toppy had regained control of himself.
+
+"Why do you think I did it, Miss Pearson?" he asked quietly.
+
+"I--I don't want to think--what I think," she stammered.
+
+"And that is that I'm a cad, the sort of a mucker who forces his
+attentions upon women who are alone."
+
+"Well--" she looked up with a challenge in her eyes--"you had been
+drinking, hadn't you? Could you blame me if I did?"
+
+"Not a bit," said Toppy. "I'm the one whose to blame. I'm the goat. I
+don't suppose I had a right to butt in. Of course I didn't. I'm a big
+fool; always have been. I--I just couldn't stand for seeing you start out
+for this Hell Camp alone; that's all. It's no reason, I know, but--there
+you are. I'd heard something of the place in the morning and I had a
+notion it was a pretty tough place. You--you didn't look as if you were
+used to anything of the sort----Well," he wound up desperately, "it didn't
+look right, your going off alone among all these roughnecks; and--and
+that's why I butted in."
+
+She made no reply, and Toppy continued:
+
+"I didn't have any right to do it, I know. I deserve to be suspected----"
+
+"No!" she laughed. "Please, Mr. Treplin! That was horrid of me."
+
+"Why was it?" he demanded abruptly. "Especially after you knew--after
+this morning. But--here's the situation: I thought you might need a
+side-kicker to see you through, and I appointed myself to the job. You
+won't believe that, I suppose, but that's because you don't know how
+foolish I can be."
+
+He stopped clumsily, abashed by the wondering scrutiny to which she was
+subjecting him. She arose slowly from the chair and came toward him.
+
+"I believe you, Mr. Treplin," she said. "I believe you're a decent sort
+of boy. I want to thank you; but why--why should you think this
+necessary?"
+
+She looked at him, smiling a little, and Toppy, wincing from her "boy,"
+grew flustered.
+
+"Well, you're not sorry I came?" he stammered.
+
+For reply she shook her head. Toppy took a long breath.
+
+"Thanks!" he said with such genuine relief that she was forced to smile.
+
+"But I'm a perfect stranger to you," she said uncertainly. "I can't
+understand why you should feel prompted to sacrifice yourself so to help
+me."
+
+"Sacrifice!" cried Toppy. "Why, I'm the one----" He stopped. He didn't
+know just what he had intended to say. Something that he had no business
+saying, probably. "Anybody would have done it--anybody who wasn't a
+mucker, I mean. You can't have any use for me, of course, knowing what
+kind of a dub I've been, but if you'll just look on me as somebody you
+can trust and fall back on in case of need, and who'll do anything you
+want or need, I--I'll be more than paid."
+
+"I do trust you, Mr. Treplin," she said, and held out her hand. "But--do
+I look as if I needed a chaperon?"
+
+Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved fingers.
+
+"I told you I'd heard what Reivers said," he said hastily. "I didn't
+mean to; I was just coming in to get some blankets. I don't suppose
+you're going to stay here now, are you?"
+
+She began to draw off her gloves.
+
+"Yes," she said quietly. "Mr. Reivers is a gentleman and can be depended
+upon to keep his word."
+
+Toppy winced once more. She had called him a "decent boy"; she spoke of
+Reivers as a "gentleman."
+
+"But--good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred dollars----if that's
+all----"
+
+He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something like a click.
+
+"Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend me that much money?"
+she asked. "Didn't you hear that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And
+Mr. Reivers isn't a complete stranger to me--as you are."
+
+She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to unbutton her
+mackinaw.
+
+"I don't think you could mean anything wrong by it," she continued. "But
+please don't mention it again. You don't wish to humiliate me, do you?"
+
+"Miss Pearson!" stammered Toppy, miserable.
+
+"Don't, please don't," she said. "It's all right." Her natural high
+spirits were returning. "Everything's all right. Mr. Reivers never
+breaks his word, and he's promised--you heard him, you say? And you've
+promised to be my--what did you call it?--'side-kicker,' so everything's
+fine. Except--" a look of disgust passed over her eyes--"your drinking.
+Oh," she cried as she saw the shame flare into Toppy's face, "I didn't
+mean to hurt you--but how can nice boys like you throw themselves away?"
+
+Nice boy! Toppy looked at his toes for a long time. So that was what she
+thought of him! Nice boy!
+
+"Do you know much about Reivers?" he asked at last, as if he had
+forgotten her words. "Or don't you want to tell me about him?" He had
+sensed that he was infinitely Reivers' inferior in her estimation, and
+it hurt.
+
+"Certainly I do," she said. "Mr. Reivers was a foreman for the company
+that my father was estimator for. When father was hurt last Summer Mr.
+Reivers came to see him on company business. It's father's spine; he
+couldn't move; Reivers had to come to him. He saw me, and two hours
+after our meeting he--he asked me to marry him. He asked me again a week
+later, and once after that. Then I told him that I never could care for
+him and he went away and promised he'd never trouble me again. You heard
+our conversation. I hadn't seen or heard of him since, until he walked
+into this room. That's all I know about him, except that people say he
+never breaks his word."
+
+Toppy winced as he caught the note of confidence in her voice and
+thought of the sudden deadly treachery of Reivers in dealing with Rosky.
+The girl with a lithe movement threw off her mackinaw.
+
+"By Jove!" Toppy exploded in boyish admiration. "You're the bravest
+little soul I ever saw in my life! Going against a game like this, just
+to help your father!"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I?" she asked. "I'm the only one father has got.
+We're all alone, father and I; and father is too proud to take help from
+any one else; and--and," she concluded firmly, "so am I. As for being
+brave--have you anything against Mr. Reivers personally?"
+
+Thoroughly routed, Toppy turned to the door. "Good night, Miss Pearson,"
+he said politely.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Treplin. And thank you for--going out of your way." But
+had she seen the flash in Toppy's eye and the set of his jaw she might
+not have laughed so merrily as he flung out of the room.
+
+In the store on the other side of the hallway Toppy was surprised to
+find Tilly, the squaw, waiting patiently behind a low counter on which
+lay a pair of blankets bearing a tag "XX." As he entered, the woman
+pushed the blankets toward him and pointed to a card lying on the
+counter.
+
+"Put um name here," she said, indicating a dotted line on the card and
+offering Toppy a pencil tied on a string.
+
+Toppy saw that the card was a receipt for the blankets. As he signed, he
+looked closely at the squaw. He was surprised to see that she was a
+young woman, and that her features and expression distinguished her from
+the other squaws he had seen by the intelligence they indicated. Tilly
+was no mere clod in a red skin. Somewhere back of her inscrutable Indian
+eyes was a keen, strong mind.
+
+"How did you know what I wanted?" Toppy asked as he packed the blankets
+under his arm.
+
+The squaw made no sign that she had heard. Picking up the card, she
+looked carefully at his signature and turned to hang the card on a hook.
+
+"So you were listening when Reivers was talking to me, were you?" said
+Toppy. "Did you listen after he went out?"
+
+"Mebbe," grunted Tilly. "Mebbe so; mebbe no." And with this she turned
+and waddled back into the living-quarters in the rear of the store.
+
+Toppy looked after her dumbfounded.
+
+"Huh!" he said to himself. "I'll bet two to one that Reivers knows all
+about what we said before morning. I suppose that will mean something
+doing pretty quick. Well, the quicker the better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII--THE SNOW-BURNER'S CREED
+
+
+When Toppy returned to the room in the rear of the blacksmith-shop he
+found Campbell waiting impatiently.
+
+"Eh, lad, but you're the slow one!" greeted the gruff old Scot as Toppy
+entered. "You're set a record in this camp; no man yet has been able to
+consume so much time getting a pair of blankets from the wannigan. Dump
+'em in yon bunk in the corner and set the table. I'll have supper in a
+wink and a half."
+
+Toppy obediently tossed his blankets into the bunk indicated and turned
+to help to the best of his ability. The place now was lighted generously
+by two large reflector-lamps hung on the walls, and Toppy had his first
+good view of the room that was to be his home.
+
+He was surprised at its neatness and comfort. It was a large room,
+though a little low under the roof, as rooms have a habit of being in
+the North. In the farthest corner were two bunks, the sleeping-quarters.
+Across the room from this, a corner was filled with well filled
+bookshelves, a table with a reading-lamp, and two easy chairs, giving
+the air of a tiny library. In the corner farthest from this was the
+cook-stove, and in the fourth corner stood an oilcloth-covered table
+with a shelf filled with dishes hung above it. Though the rough edges of
+hewn logs shown here and there through the plaster of the walls, the
+room was as spick and span as if under the charge of a finicky
+housewife. Old Campbell himself, bending over the cook stove, was as
+astonishing in his own way as the room. He had removed all trace of the
+day's smithing and fairly shone with cleanliness. His snow-white hair
+was carefully combed back from his wide forehead, his bushy
+chin-whiskers likewise showed signs of water and comb, and he was garbed
+from throat to ankles in a white cook's apron. He was cheerfully humming
+a dirge-like tune, and so occupied was he with his cookery that he
+scarcely so much as glanced at Toppy.
+
+"Now then, lad; are you ready?" he asked presently.
+
+"All ready, I guess," said Toppy, giving a final look at the table.
+
+"You've forgot the bread," said Campbell, also looking. "You'll find it
+in yon tin box on the shelf. Lively, now." And before Toppy had dished
+out a loaf from the bread-box the old man had a huge platter of steak
+and twin bowls of potatoes and turnips steaming on the table.
+
+"We will now say grace," said Campbell, seating himself after removing
+the big apron, and Toppy sat silent and amazed as the old man bowed his
+head and in his deep voice solemnly uttered thanks for the meal before
+him.
+
+"Now then," he said briskly, raising his head and reaching for a fork as
+he ended, "fall to."
+
+The meal was eaten without any more conversation than was necessary.
+When it was over, the blacksmith pushed his chair leisurely back from
+the table and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile.
+
+"Well, lad," he rumbled, "what would ye say was the next thing to be
+done by oursel's?"
+
+"Wash the dishes," said Toppy promptly, taking his cue from the
+conspicuous cleanliness of the room.
+
+"Aye," said Campbell, nodding. "And as I cook the meal----"
+
+"I'm elected dish-washer," laughed Toppy, springing up and taking a
+large dish-pan from the wall. He had often done his share of
+kitchen-work on hunting-trips, and soon he had the few dishes washed and
+dried and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically.
+
+"Well enough," he said with an approving jerk of his head when the task
+was completed. "Your conscience should be easier now, lad; you've done
+something to pay for the meal you've eaten, which I'll warrant is
+something you've not often done."
+
+"No," laughed Toppy, "it just happens that I haven't had to."
+
+"'Haven't had to!'" snorted Campbell in disgust. "Is that all the
+justification you have? Where's your pride? Are you a helpless infant
+that you're not ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth
+without doing anything for it? I suppose you've got money. And where
+came your money from? Your father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it
+came from, they're the people who've been feeding you, but by the great
+smoked herring! If you stay wi' David Campbell you'll have a change,
+lad. Aye, you'll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat of
+your brow. And you'll bless the day you come here--no matter what the
+reason that made you come, and which I do not want to hear."
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+"I've got no come-back to that line of conversation, Mr. Campbell," he
+said good-naturedly. "Whenever anybody accuses me of being a bum with
+money I throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can't get an argument
+out of me with a corkscrew."
+
+Old Campbell's grim face cracked in a genial smile as he rose and led
+the way to the corner containing the bookshelves.
+
+"We will now step into the library," he chuckled. "Sit ye down."
+
+He pushed one of the easy chairs toward Toppy, and from a cupboard under
+the reading-table drew a bottle of Scotch whisky of a celebrated brand.
+Toppy's whole being suddenly cried out for a drink as his eyes fell on
+the familiar four stars.
+
+"Say when, lad," said Campbell, pouring into a generous glass. "Well?"
+He looked at Toppy in surprise as the glass filled up. Something had
+smitten Toppy like a blow between the eyes----"How can nice boys like you
+throw themselves away?" And the pity of the girl as she had said it was
+large before him.
+
+"Thanks," said Toppy, seating himself, "but I'm on the wagon."
+
+The old smith looked up at him shrewdly from the corners of his eyes.
+
+"Oh, aye!" he grunted. "I see. Well, by the puffs under your eyes ye
+have overdone it; and for fleeing the temptations of the world I know of
+no better place ye could go to than this. For it's certain neither
+temptations nor luxuries will be found in Hell Camp while the
+Snow-Burner's boss."
+
+"Now you interest me," said Toppy grimly. "The Snow-Burner--Hell-Camp
+Reivers--Mr. Reivers--the boss. What kind of a human being is he, if he is
+human?"
+
+Campbell carefully mixed his whisky with hot water.
+
+"You saw him manhandle Rosky?" he asked, seating himself opposite Toppy.
+
+"Yes; but it wasn't manhandling; it was brute-handling, beast-handling."
+
+"Aye," said the Scot, sipping his drink. "So think I, too. But do you
+know what Reivers calls it? An enlightened man showing a human clod the
+error of his ways. Oh, aye; the Indians were smart when they named him
+the Snow-Burner. He does things that aren't natural."
+
+"But who is he, or what is he? He's an educated man, obviously--'way
+above what a logging-boss ought to be. What do you know about him?"
+
+"Little enough," was the reply. "Four year ago I were smithing in Elk
+Lake Camp over east of here, when Reivers came walking into camp. That
+was the first any white men had seen of him around these woods, though
+afterward we learned he'd lived long enough with the Indians to earn the
+name of the Snow-Burner.
+
+"It were January, and two feet of snow on the level, and fifty below.
+Reivers came walking into camp, and the nearest human habitation were
+forty mile away. 'Red Pat' Haney were foreman--a man-killer with the
+devil's own temper; and him Reivers deeliberately set himself to arouse.
+A week after his coming, this same Reivers had every man in camp looking
+up to him, except Red Pat.
+
+"And Reivers drove Pat half mad with that contemptuous smile of his, and
+Pat pulled a gun; and Reivers says, 'That's what I was waiting for,' and
+broke Pat's bones with his bare hands and laid him up. Then, says he,
+'This camp is going on just the same as if nothing had happened, and I'm
+going to be boss.' That was all there was to it; he's been a boss ever
+since."
+
+"And you don't know where he came from? Or anything else about him?"
+
+"Oh, he's from England--an Oxford man, for that matter," said Campbell.
+"He admitted that much once when we were argufying. He'll be here soon;
+he comes to quarrel with me every evening."
+
+"Why does an Oxford man want to be 'way out here bossing a
+logging-camp?" grumbled Toppy.
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+"Aye, I asked that of him once," he said. "'Though it's none of your
+business,' says he, 'I'll tell you. I got tired of living where people
+snivel about laws concerning right and wrong,' says he, 'instead of
+acknowledging that there is only one law ruling life--that the strong can
+master the weak.' That is Mr. Reivers' religion. He was only worshipping
+his strange gods when he broke Rosky's leg, for he considers Rosky a
+weaker man than himself, and therefore 'tis his duty to break him to his
+own will."
+
+"A fine religion!" snapped Toppy. "And how about his dealings with you?"
+
+The Scot smiled grimly.
+
+"I'm the best smith he ever had," he replied, "and I've warned him that
+I'd consider it a duty under my religion to shoot him through the head
+did he ever attempt to force his creed upon me." He paused and held up a
+finger. "Hist, lad. That's him coming noo. He's come for his regular
+evening's mouthfu' of conversation."
+
+Toppy found himself sitting up and gripping the arms of his chair as
+Reivers came swinging in. He eagerly searched the foreman's countenance
+for a sign to indicate whether Tilly, the squaw, had communicated the
+conversation she had heard between Toppy and Miss Pearson, but if she
+had there was nothing to indicate it in Reivers' expression or manner.
+His self-mastery awoke a sullen rage in Toppy. He felt himself to be a
+boy beside Reivers.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," greeted Reivers lightly, pulling a chair up
+to the reading-table. "It is a pleasure to find intelligent society
+after having spent the last hour handling the broken leg of a miserable
+brute on two legs. Bah! The whisky, Scotty, please. I wonder what
+miracles of misbreeding have been necessary to turn out alleged human
+beings with bodies so hideous compared to what the human body should be.
+Treplin, if you or I stripped beside those Hunkies the only thing we'd
+have in common would be the number of our legs and arms."
+
+He drew toward him a tumbler which Campbell had pushed over beside the
+bottle and, filling the glass three-quarters full, began to drink slowly
+at the powerful Scotch whisky as another man might sip at beer or light
+wine. Old Campbell rocked slowly to and fro in his chair.
+
+"'He that taketh up the sword shall perish by the sword,'" he quoted
+solemnly. "No man is a god to set himself up, lord over the souls and
+bodies of his fellows. They will put out your light for you one of these
+days, Mr. Reivers. Have care and treat them a little more like men."
+
+Reivers smiled a quick smile that showed a mouthful of teeth as clean
+and white as a hound's.
+
+"Let's have your opinion on the subject, Treplin," he said. "New
+opinions are always interesting, and Scotty repeats the same thing over
+and over again. What do you think of it? Do you think I can maintain my
+rule over those hundred and fifty clods out there in the stockade as I
+am ruling them, through the law of strength over weakness? Do you think
+one superior mind can dominate a hundred and fifty inferior organisms?
+Or do you think, with Scotty here, that the dregs can drag me down?"
+
+Toppy shook his head. He was in no mood to debate abstract problems with
+Reivers.
+
+"Count me out until I'm a little acquainted with the situation," he
+said. "I'm a stranger in a strange land. I've just dropped in--from
+almost another world you might say."
+
+In a vain attempt to escape taking sides in what was evidently an old
+argument he hurriedly rattled off the story of his coming to Rail Head
+and thence to Hell Camp, omitting to mention, however, that it was Miss
+Pearson who was responsible for the latter part of his journey. Reivers
+smote his huge fist upon the table as Toppy finished.
+
+"That's the kind of a man for me!" he laughed. "Got tired of living the
+life of his class, and just stepped out of it. No explanations; no
+acknowledgement of obligations to anybody. Master of his own soul. To ----
+with the niceties of civilisation! Treplin, you're a man after my own
+scheme of life; I did the same thing once--only I was sober.
+
+"But let's get back to our subject. Here's the situation: This camp is
+on a natural town-site. There's water-power, ore and timber. To use the
+water-power we must build a dam; to use the timber we must get it to the
+saws. That takes labour, lots of it--muscle-and-bone labour. Labour is
+scarce up here. It is too far from the pigsties of towns. Men would
+come, work a few days, and go away. The purpose of the place would be
+defeated--unless the men are kept here at work.
+
+"That's what I do. I keep them here. To do it I keep them locked up at
+night like the cattle they are. By day I have them guarded by armed
+man-killers--every one of my guards is a fugitive from man's silly laws,
+principally from the one which says, 'Thou shalt not kill.'
+
+"But my best guard is Fear--by which I rule alike my guards and the poor
+brutes who are necessary to my purpose. There you are: a hundred and
+fifty of them, fearing and hating me, and I'm making them do as I
+please. No foolishness about laws, about order, about right or wrong.
+Just a hundred and fifty half-beasts and myself out here in the woods.
+As a man with a trained mind, do you think I can keep it up? Or do you
+think there is mental energy enough in that mess of human protoplasm to
+muster up nerve enough to put out my light, as Scotty puts it? It's a
+problem that furnishes interesting mental gymnastics."
+
+He propounded the problem with absolutely no trace of personal interest.
+To judge by his manner, the matter of his life or death meant nothing to
+him. It was merely an interesting question on which to expend the energy
+fulminating in his mind. In his light-blue eyes there seemed to gleam
+the same impersonal brutality which had shown out when he so casually
+crippled Rosky.
+
+"Oh, it's an impossible proposition, Reivers!" exploded Toppy, with the
+picture of the writhing Slav in his mind's eye. "You've got to consider
+right and wrong when dealing with human beings. It isn't natural; Nature
+won't stand it."
+
+"Ah!" Reivers' eyes lighted up with intellectual delight. "That's an
+idea! Scotty, you hear? You've been talking about my perishing by the
+sword, but you haven't given any reason why. Treplin does. He says
+Nature will revolt, because my system is unnatural." He threw back his
+head and laughed coldly. "Rot, Treplin--silly, effeminate, bookish rot!"
+he roared. "Nature has respect only for the strong. It creates the
+weaker species merely to give the stronger food to remain strong on."
+
+Old Scotty had been rocking furiously. Now he stopped suddenly and broke
+out into a furious Biblical denunciation of Reivers' system. When he
+stopped for breath after his first outbreak, Reivers with a few words
+and a cold smile egged him on. Toppy gladly kept his mouth shut. After
+an hour he yawned and arose from his chair.
+
+"If you'll excuse me, I'll turn in," he said. "I'm too sleepy to listen
+or talk."
+
+Without looking at him Reivers drew a book from his pocket and tossed it
+toward him.
+
+"'Davis on Fractures'," he grunted. "Cram up on it to-morrow. There will
+be need of your help before long. Go on, Scotty; you were saying that a
+just retribution was Nature's law. Go on."
+
+And Toppy rolled into his bunk, to lie wide awake, listening to the
+argument, marvelling at the character of Reivers, and pondering over the
+strange situation he had fallen into. He scarcely thought of what Harvey
+Duncombe and the bunch would be thinking about his disappearance. His
+thoughts were mainly occupied with wondering why, of all the women he
+had seen, a slender little girl with golden hair should suddenly mean so
+much to him. Nothing of the sort ever had happened to him before. It was
+rather annoying. Could she ever have a good opinion of him?
+
+Probably not. And even if she could, what about Reivers? Toppy was
+firmly convinced that the speech which Reivers had made to Miss Pearson
+was a false one. Reivers might have a great reputation for always
+keeping his word, but Toppy, after what he had seen and heard, would no
+more trust to his morals than those of a hungry bear. If Tilly, the
+squaw, told Reivers what she had heard, what then? Well, in that case
+they would soon know whether Reivers meant to keep his promise not to
+bother Miss Pearson with his attentions. Toppy set his jaw grimly at the
+thought of what might happen then. The mere thought of Reivers seemed to
+make his fists clench hard.
+
+He lay awake for a long time with Reivers' voice, coldly bantering
+Campbell, constantly in his ears. When Reivers finally went away he fell
+asleep. Before his closed eyes was the picture of the girl as, in the
+morning, she had kicked up the snow and looked up at him with her eyes
+deliciously puckered from the sun; and in his memory was the stinging
+recollection that she had called him a "nice boy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII--TOPPY WORKS
+
+
+At daylight next morning began Toppy's initiation as a blacksmith's
+helper. For the next four days he literally earned his bread in the
+sweat of his brow, as Campbell had warned him he would. The dour old
+Scot took it as his religious duty to give his helper a severe
+introduction to the world of manual labour, and circumstances aided him
+in his aim.
+
+Two dozen huge wooden sleighs had come from the "wood-butcher"--the camp
+carpenter-shop--to be fitted with cross-rods, brace-irons and runners.
+Out in the woods the ice-roads, carefully sprinkled each night, were
+alternately freezing and thawing, gradually approaching the solid
+condition which would mean a sudden call for sleighs to haul the logs,
+which lay mountain-high at the rollways, down to the river. One cold
+night and day now, and the call would come, and David Campbell was not
+the man to be found wanting--even if handicapped by a helper with hands
+as soft as a woman's.
+
+Toppy had no knowledge or skill in the trade, but he had strength and
+quickness, and the thoughts of Reivers' masterfulness, and the "nice
+boy" in the mouth of the girl, spurred him to the limit. The heavy
+sledgework fell to his lot as a matter of course. A twenty-pound sledge
+was a plaything in Toppy's hand--for the first fifteen minutes.
+
+After that the hammer seemed to increase progressively in weight, until
+at the end of the first day's work Toppy would gladly have credited the
+statement that it weighed a ton. Likewise the heavy runner-irons, which
+he lifted with ease on the anvil in the morning, seemed to grow heavier
+as the day grew older. Had Toppy been in the splendid condition that had
+helped him to win his place on the All-American eleven four years
+before, he might have gone through the cruel period of breaking-in
+without faltering. But four years of reckless living had taken their
+toll. The same magnificent frame and muscles were there; the great heart
+and grit and sand likewise. But there was something else there, too; the
+softening, weakening traces of decomposed alcohol in organs and tissues,
+and under the strain of the terrific pace which old Campbell set for
+Toppy, abused organs, fibres and nerves began to creak and groan, and
+finally called out, "Halt!"
+
+It was only Toppy's grit--the "great heart" that had made him a
+champion--and the desire to prove his strength before Reivers that kept
+him at work after the first day. His body had quit cold. He had never
+before undergone such expenditure of muscular energy, not even in the
+fiercest game of his career. That was play; this was torture. On the
+second morning his body shrank involuntarily from the spectacle of the
+torturing sledge, anvil and irons, but pride and grit drove him on with
+set jaw and hard eyes. Quit? Well, hardly. Reivers walked around the
+camp and smiled as he saw Toppy sweating, and Toppy swore and went on.
+
+On the third day old Campbell looked at him with curiosity.
+
+"Well, lad, have ye had enough?" he asked, smiling pityingly. "Ye can
+get a job helping the cookee if you find man's work too hard for ye."
+
+Toppy, between clenched teeth, swore savagely. He was so tired that he
+was sick. The toxins of fatigue, aided and abetted by the effects of
+hard living, had poisoned him until his feet and brain felt as heavy as
+lead. It hurt him to move and it hurt him to think. He was groggy, all
+but knocked out; but something within him held him doggedly at the tasks
+which were surely mastering him.
+
+That night he dragged himself to bed without waiting for supper. In the
+morning Campbell was amazed to see him tottering toward his accustomed
+place in the shop; for old Campbell had set a pace that had racked his
+own iron, work-tried body, and he had allowed Toppy two days in which to
+cry enough.
+
+"Hold up a little, lad," he grumbled. "We're away ahead of our job.
+There's no need laying yourself up. Take you a rest."
+
+"You go to ----!" exploded the overwrought Toppy. "Take a rest yourself if
+you need one; I don't."
+
+He was working on his nerve now, flogging his weary arms and body to do
+his bidding against their painful protests; and he worked like a madman,
+fearing that if he came to a halt the run-down machinery would refuse to
+start afresh.
+
+It was near evening when a teamster drove up with a broken sleigh from
+which Campbell and the man strove in vain to tear the twisted runner.
+Reivers from the steps of the store looked on, sneering. Toppy, his lips
+drawn back with pain and weariness, laughed shrilly at the efforts of
+the pair.
+
+"Yank it off!" he cried contemptuously. "Yank it off--like this."
+
+He drove a pry-iron under the runner and heaved. It refused to budge.
+Toppy gathered himself under the pry and jerked with every ounce of
+energy in him. The runner did not move. His left ankle felt curiously
+weak under the awful strain. Across the way he heard Reivers laugh
+shortly. Furiously Toppy jerked again; the runner flew into the air.
+Toppy felt the weak ankle sag under him in unaccountable fashion, and he
+fell heavily on his side and lay still.
+
+"Sprained his ankle," grunted the teamster, as they bore him to his
+bunk. "I knew something had to give. No man ever was made to stand up
+under that lift."
+
+"But I yanked it off!" groaned Toppy, half wild with pain. "I didn't
+quit--I yanked the darn thing off!"
+
+"Aye," said old Campbell, "you yanked it off, lad. Lay still now till we
+have off your shoe."
+
+"And holy smoke!" said the teamster. "What a yank! Hey! Whoap! Holy,
+red-roaring--he's gone and fainted!"
+
+This latter statement was not precisely true. Toppy had not fainted; he
+had suddenly succumbed to the demands of complete exhaustion. The
+overdriven, tired-out organs, wrenched and abused tissues, and
+fatigue-deadened nerves suddenly had cried, "Stop!" in a fashion that
+not all of Toppy's will-power could deny. One instant he lay flat on his
+back on the blankets of his bunk, wide awake, with Campbell tugging at
+the laces of his shoes; the next--a mighty sigh of peace heaved his big
+chest. Toppy had fallen asleep.
+
+It was not a natural sleep, nor a peaceful one. The racked muscles
+refused to be still; the raw nerve-centres refused to soothe themselves
+in the peace of complete senselessness. His whole body twitched. Toppy
+tossed and groaned. He awoke some time in the night with his stomach
+crying for food.
+
+"Drink um," said a voice somewhere, and a sturdy arm went under his head
+and a bowl containing something savoury and hot was held against his
+lips.
+
+"Hello, Tilly," chuckled Toppy deliriously. It was quite in keeping with
+things that Tilly, the squaw, should be holding his head and feeding him
+in the middle of the night. He drank with the avidity of a man parched
+and starving, and the hot broth pleasantly soothed him as it ran down
+his throat.
+
+"More!" he said, and Tilly gave him more.
+
+"Good fellow, Tilly," he murmured. "Good medicine. Who told you?"
+
+"Snow-Burner," grunted Tilly, laying his head on the pillow. "He send
+me. Sleep um now."
+
+"Sure," sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into his moaning, feverish
+slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX--A FRESH START
+
+
+When he awoke again to clear consciousness, it was morning. The sun
+which came in through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted up
+the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content to lie so. An
+inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort ruled in every inch of his
+being. The bored, heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had
+been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely gone. His tongue
+was cool; there was none of the old heavy blood-pressure in his head;
+his nerves were absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him. Toppy
+was quite conscious of the change, though he was too comfortable to do
+more than accept his peaceful condition as a fact.
+
+"Ho, hum! I feel like a new man," he murmured drowsily. "I wonder--ow!"
+
+He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became conscious that his
+left ankle was bandaged and sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the
+room--Campbell solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit of black, white
+collar, black tie, spick and span, with beard and hair carefully washed
+and combed.
+
+"Hello!" gasped Toppy sleepily. "Where you going--funeral?"
+
+"'Tis the Sabbath," said Campbell reverently, as he came to the side of
+the bunk. "And how do ye feel the day, lad?"
+
+"Fine!" said Toppy. "Considering that I had my ankle sprained last
+evening."
+
+The Scot eyed him closely.
+
+"So 'twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was it?" he asked cannily.
+
+"Why, sure," said Toppy. "Yesterday was Saturday, wasn't it? We were
+cleaning up the week's work. Why, what are you looking at me like that
+for?"
+
+"Aye," said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding the smile that
+strove to break through. "Yesterday was Saturday, but 'twas not the
+Saturday you sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was, lad, and
+ye've lain here in a fever, out of your head, ever since. Do you mind
+naught of the whole week?"
+
+Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long time.
+
+"Scotty, if you have to play jokes----"
+
+"Jokes!" spluttered Campbell, aghast. "Losh, mon! Didna I tell ye 'twas
+the Sabbath? No, 'tis no joke, I assure you. You did more than sprain
+your ankle when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely. Lad,
+you were in poor condition when you came to camp, and had I known it I
+would not have broken you in so hard. But you're a good man, lad; the
+best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition. And do you really feel
+good again?"
+
+"Why, I feel like a new man," said Toppy. "I feel as if I'd had a course
+of baths at Hot Springs."
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+"The Snow-Burner said ye would. It's Tilly he's had doctoring ye. She's
+been feeding you some Indian concoction and keeping ye heated till your
+blankets were wet through. Oh, you've had scandalous good care, lad;
+Reivers to set your ankle, Tilly to doctor ye Indian-wise, and Miss
+Pearson and Reivers to drop in together now and anon to see how ye were
+standing the gaff. No wonder ye came through all right!"
+
+The room seemed suddenly to grow dark for Toppy. Reivers again--Reivers
+dropping in to look at him as he lay there helpless on his back. Reivers
+in the position of the master again; and the girl with him! Toppy
+impatiently threw off his covering.
+
+"Gimme my clothes, Scotty," he demanded, swinging himself to the edge of
+the bunk. "I'm tired of lying here on my back."
+
+Campbell silently handed over his clothing. Toppy was weak, but he
+succeeded in dressing himself and in tottering over to a chair.
+
+"So Miss Pearson came over here, did she?" he asked thoughtfully. "And
+with Reivers?"
+
+"Aye," said Scotty drily. "With Reivers. He has a way with the women,
+the Snow-Burner has."
+
+Toppy debated a moment; then he broke out and told Campbell all about
+how Reivers had deceived Miss Pearson into coming to Hell Camp. The old
+man listened with tightly pursed lips. As Toppy concluded he shook his
+head sorrowfully.
+
+"Poor lass, she's got a hard path before her then," he said. "If, as you
+say, she does not wish to care for Reivers."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Campbell slowly, "ye'll be understanding by this time that
+the Snow-Burner is no ordinar' man?"
+
+"He's a fiend--a savage with an Oxford education!" exploded Toppy.
+
+"He is--the Snow-Burner," said Campbell with finality. "You know what he
+is toward men. Toward women--he's worse!"
+
+"Good Heavens!"
+
+"Not that he is a woman-chaser. No; 'tis not his way. But--yon man has
+the strongest will in him I've ever seen in mortal man, and 'tis the
+will women bow to." He pulled his whiskers nervously and looked away.
+"I've known him four year now, and no woman in that time that he has set
+his will upon but in the end has--has followed him like a slave."
+
+Toppy's fists clenched, and he joyed to find that in spite of his
+illness his muscles went hard.
+
+"Ye've seen Tilly," continued Scotty with averted eyes. "Ye'll not be so
+blind that ye've not observed that she's no ordinar' squaw. Well, three
+years ago Tilly was teacher in the Chippewa Indian School--thin and
+straight--a Carlisle graduate and all. She met Reivers, and shunned
+him--at first. Reivers did not chase her. 'Tis not his way. But he bent
+his will upon her, and the poor girl left her life behind her and
+followed him, and kept following him, until ye see her as she is now.
+She would cut your throat or nurse ye as she did, no matter which, did
+he but command her. And she's not been the only one, either.
+
+"Nor have the rest of them been red."
+
+"The swine!" muttered Toppy.
+
+"More wolf than swine, lad. Perhaps more tiger than wolf. I don't think
+Reivers intends to break his word to yon lass. But I suspect that he
+won't have to. No; as it looks now, he won't. Given the opportunity to
+put his will upon her and she'll change her mind--like the others."
+
+"He's a beast, that's what he is!" said Toppy angrily. "And any woman
+who would fall for him would get no more than she deserves, even if
+she's treated like Tilly. Why, anybody can see that the man's instincts
+are all wrong. Right in an animal perhaps, but wrong in a human being.
+The right kind of women would shun him like poison."
+
+"I dunno," said Campbell, rubbing his chin. "Yon lass over in the office
+is as sweet and womanly a little lass as I've seen sin' I was a lad. And
+yet--look ye but out of the window, lad!"
+
+Toppy looked out of the window in the direction in which Campbell
+pointed. The window commanded a view of the gate to the stockade.
+Reivers was standing idly before the gate. Miss Pearson was coming
+toward him. As she approached he carelessly turned his head and looked
+her over from head to foot. From where he sat Toppy could see her smile.
+Then Reivers calmly turned his back upon her, and the smile on the
+girl's face died out. She stood irresolute for a moment, then turned and
+went slowly back toward the office, glancing occasionally over her
+shoulder toward the gate. Reivers did not look, but when she was out of
+sight he began to walk slowly toward the blacksmith-shop.
+
+"Bah!" Toppy turned his eyes from the window in mingled anger and
+disgust. He sat for a moment with a multitude of emotions working at his
+heart. Then he laughed bitterly.
+
+"Well, well, well!" he mocked. "You'd expect that from a squaw, but not
+from a white woman."
+
+"Mr. Reivers is a remarkable man," said Campbell, shaking his head.
+
+"Sure," said Toppy, "and it's a mistake to look for a remarkable woman
+up here in the woods."
+
+"I dunno." The smith looked a little hurt. "I dunno about that, lad. Yon
+lass seems remarkably sweet and ladylike to me."
+
+"Sure," sneered Toppy, pointing his thumb toward the gate. "That looked
+like it, didn't it?"
+
+"As for that, you've heard what I've told you about the Snow-Burner and
+women," said Campbell sorrowfully. "He has a masterful way with them."
+
+"A fine thing to be masterful over a little blonde fool like that!"
+
+Campbell scowled.
+
+"Even though you have no respect for the lass," he said curtly, "I see
+no reason why you should put it in words."
+
+"Why not? Why shouldn't I, or any one else, put it in words after that?"
+Toppy fairly shouted the words. "She's made the thing public herself.
+She came creeping up to him right out where anybody who was looking
+could see her, and there won't be a man in camp to-morrow but'll have
+heard that she's fallen for Reivers. Apparently she doesn't care; so why
+should I, or you, or anybody else? Reivers has got a masterful way with
+women! Ha, ha! Let it go at that. It's none of my business, that's a
+cinch."
+
+"No," agreed Campbell; "not if you talk that way, it's none of your
+business; that's sure."
+
+Toppy could have struck him for the emphatic manner in which he uttered
+the words. But Toppy was beginning to learn to control himself and he
+merely gritted his teeth. The sudden stab which he had felt in his heart
+at the sight of the girl and Reivers had passed. In one flash there had
+been overthrown the fine structure which he had built about her in his
+thoughts. He had placed her high above himself. For some unknown reason
+he had looked up to her from the first moment he had seen her. He had
+not considered himself worthy of her good opinion. And here she was
+flaunting her subservience to Reivers--to a cold, sneering brute--before
+the eyes of the whole camp!
+
+The rage and pain at the sight of the pair had come and gone, and that
+was all over. And now Toppy to his surprise found that it didn't make
+much difference. The girl, and what she was, what she thought of him, or
+of Reivers, no longer were of prime importance to him. He didn't care
+enough about that now to give her room in his thoughts.
+
+Reivers was what mattered now--Reivers, with his air of contemptuous
+dominance; Reivers, who had looked on and laughed when Toppy was tugging
+at the runner of the broken sleigh. That laugh seemed to ring in Toppy's
+ears. It challenged him even as it contemned him. It said, "I am your
+master; doubt it if you dare"; even as Reivers' cold smile had said the
+same to Rosky and the huddled bunch of Slavs.
+
+The girl--that was past. But Reivers had roused something deeper,
+something older, something fiercer than the feelings which had begun to
+stir in Toppy at the sight of the girl. Man--raw, big-thewed, world-old
+and always new man--had challenged unto man. And man had answered. The
+petty considerations of life were stripped away. Only one thing was of
+importance. The world to Toppy Treplin had become merely a place for
+Reivers, the Snow-Burner, and himself to settle the question which had
+cried for settlement since the moment when they first looked into each
+other's eyes: Which was the better man?
+
+Toppy smiled as he stretched himself and noted the new life that seemed
+to have come into his body. He knew what it meant. That strenuous siege
+of work and a week of fevered sweating had driven the alcohol out of his
+system. He was making a fresh start. A few weeks at the anvil now, and
+he would be in better shape than at any time since leaving school. He
+set his jaw squarely and heaved his big arms high above his head.
+
+"Well, Treplin," came an unmistakable voice from the doorway, "you're
+looking strenuous for a man just off the sickbed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X--THE DUEL BEGINS
+
+
+"I'm feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers," said Toppy quietly,
+though the voice of the man had thrilled him with the challenge in it.
+He turned his head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers with
+an expression of great serenity. The Big Game had begun between them,
+and Toppy was an expert at keeping his play hidden.
+
+"Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers," he said. "Silly
+thing, to sprain an ankle; but thanks to your expert bandaging it'll be
+ready to walk on soon."
+
+"It wasn't a bad sprain," said Reivers, moving up and standing in front
+of him. That was Reivers all through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was
+standing, looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black anger
+boiled in Toppy's heart, but by his expression one could read only that
+he was a grateful young man.
+
+"No, it wasn't a bad sprain," continued Reivers, his upper lip lifting
+in its customary smile of scorn, "but--a man who attempts such heavy
+lifts must have no weak spot in him."
+
+Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position in his chair and
+smiled.
+
+"'Attempts' is hardly the right word there, Reivers. Pardon me for
+differing with you," he laughed. "You may remember that the attempt was
+a success."
+
+A glint of amusement in Reivers' cold eyes showed that he appreciated
+that something more weighty than a mere question of words lay beneath
+that apparently casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed, as if
+trying to see beyond Toppy's smile and read what lay behind, but Toppy's
+good poker-face now stood him in good stead, and he looked blandly back
+at Reivers' peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers laughed.
+
+"Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting me," he said. "A
+chap gets rusty out here, where none of the laws of speech are observed.
+I'll depend upon you to bring me back to form again--later on. Is your
+ankle really feeling strong?"
+
+For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
+
+"Well, well!" laughed Reivers. "Then Miss Pearson's sympathy was all
+wasted. What's the matter, Treplin? Aren't you glad to hear that
+charming young lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and ask me
+to step in and see how you are this morning?"
+
+"Not particularly," replied Toppy, although he was forced to admit to
+himself a glow at this explanation of the girl's conversation with
+Reivers.
+
+"What are you interested in?" said Reivers suddenly.
+
+Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
+
+"I tell you what I'd like to do, Reivers; I'd like to learn the
+logging-business--learn how to run a camp like this--run it efficiently, I
+mean."
+
+"Worthy ambition," came the instant reply, "and you've come to the right
+school. How fortunate for you that you fell into this camp! You might
+have got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You might even have
+fallen in with a humanitarian. Then you'd never have learned how to make
+men do things for you, and consequently you'd never have learned to run
+a camp efficiently.
+
+"Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in with me. I'll rid you
+of the silly little ideas about right and wrong that books and false
+living have instilled in your head. I believe you've got a good
+head--almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you were in a situation
+where it was your life or the other fellow's, you'd survive. That's the
+proof of a good head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? Good!
+Is your ankle strong enough for you to get around on?"
+
+Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using it as a cane, hobbled
+around the room.
+
+"Yes, it will stand up all right," he said. "What's the idea?"
+
+"Come with me," laughed Reivers, swinging toward the door. "We're just
+in time for lesson number one on how to run a camp efficiently."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI--"HELL-CAMP" COURT
+
+
+As Reivers led the way out of the shop Toppy saw that Miss Pearson was
+standing in the door of the office across the way. He saw also that she
+was looking at him. He did not respond to her look nor volunteer a
+greeting, but deliberately looked away from her as he kept pace with
+Reivers, who was setting the way toward the gate of the stockade.
+
+It was a morning such as the one when, back in Rail Head, the girl had
+kicked up the snow and said to him, "Isn't it glorious?" But since then
+Toppy felt bitterly that he had grown so much older, so disillusioned,
+that never again would he be guilty of the tender feelings that the girl
+had evoked that morning. The sun was bright, the crisp air invigorating,
+and the blood bounded gloriously through his young body. But Toppy did
+not wax enthusiastic.
+
+He was grimly glad of the mighty stream of life that he felt surging
+within him; he would have use for all the might later on. But no more.
+The world was a harder, a less pretty place than he, in his
+inexperience, had fancied it before coming to Hell Camp.
+
+"What's this lesson?" he asked gruffly of Reivers. "What are you going
+to show me?"
+
+"A little secret in the art of keeping brute-men satisfied with the
+place in life which a superior mind has allotted to them," replied
+Reivers. "What is the first need of the brute? Food, of course. And the
+second is--fight. Give the lower orders of mankind, which is the kind to
+use in running a camp efficiently, plenty of food and fight, and the
+problem of restlessness is solved.
+
+"That's history, Treplin, as you know. If these foolish, timid
+capitalists and leaders of men who are searching their petty souls for a
+remedy to combat the ravages of the modern disease called Socialism only
+would read history intelligently, they would find the remedy made to
+order. Fight! War! Give the lower brutes war; let 'em get out and
+slaughter one another, and they'd soon forget their pitiful, clumsy
+attempts to think for themselves. Give them guns with a little sharp
+steel on the end of the barrel, turn them loose on each other--any excuse
+would do--and they'd soon be so busy driving said steel into one
+another's thick bodies that the leaders could slip the yoke back on
+their necks and get 'em under hand again, where they belong.
+
+"And they'd be happier, too, because a man-brute has got to have so much
+fighting, or what he calls his brain begins to trouble him; and then he
+imagines he has a soul and is otherwise unhappy. If there is fighting,
+or the certain prospect of fighting, there's no alleged thinking.
+There's the solution of all difficulties with the lower orders. Of
+course you've noticed how perfectly contented and happy the men in this
+camp are?" he laughed, turning suddenly on Toppy.
+
+"Yes," said Toppy. "Especially Rosky and his bunch."
+
+The Snow-Burner smiled appreciatively.
+
+"Rosky, poor clod, hadn't had any fighting. I'd overlooked him. Had I
+known that thoughts had begun to trouble his poor, half-ox brain, I'd
+have given him some fighting, and he'd have been as content for the next
+few weeks as a man who--who's just been through delirium tremens.
+
+"He had no object in life, you see. If he'd had a good enemy to hate and
+fight, he wouldn't have been troubled by thoughts, and consequently he
+wouldn't now be lying in his bunk with his leg in splints.
+
+"There is the system in a nutshell--give a man an enemy to hate and wish
+to destroy, and he won't be any trouble to you during working-hours or
+after. That's what I do--pick out the ones who might get restless and set
+them to hating each other. And now," he concluded, as they reached the
+gate and passed through, "you'll have a chance to see how it works out."
+
+The big gate, opened for them by two armed guards, swung shut behind
+them, and Toppy once more looked around the enclosure in which he had
+had his first glimpse of the Snow-Burner's system of handling the men
+under him. The place this morning, however, presented a different, a
+more impressive scene. It was all but filled with a mass of rough-clad,
+rough-moving, rough-talking male humanity.
+
+Perhaps a hundred and fifty men were waiting in the enclosure. For the
+greater part they were of the dark, thick and heavily clumsy type that
+Toppy had learned to include under the general title of Bohunk; but here
+and there over the dark, ox-like faces rose the fair head of a tall man
+of some Northern breed. Slavs comprised the bulk of the gathering; the
+Scandinavians, Irish, Americans--the "white men," as they called
+themselves--were conspicuous only by contrast and by the manner in which
+they isolated themselves from the Slavs.
+
+And between the two breeds there was not much room for choice. For while
+the faces of the Slavs were heavy with brute stupidity and malignity,
+those of the North-bred men reeked with fierceness, cruelty and crime.
+The Slavs were at Hell Camp because they were tricked into coming and
+forced to remain under shotgun rule; the others were there mostly
+because sheriffs found it unsafe and unprofitable to seek any man whom
+the Snow-Burner had in his camp. They were "hiding out." Criminals, the
+majority of them, they preyed on the stupid Slavs as a matter of course;
+and this situation Reivers had utilised, as he put it, "to keep his men
+content."
+
+Though there was a gulf of difference between the extreme types of the
+crowd, Toppy soon realised that just now their expressions were
+strangely alike. They were all impatient and excited. The excitement
+seemed to run in waves; one man moved and others moved with him. One
+threw up his head and others did likewise. Their faces were expectant
+and cruel. It was like the milling of excited cattle, only worse.
+
+"Come along, Treplin," said Reivers, and led the way toward the centre
+of the enclosure. The noises of the crowd, the talking, the short
+laughter, the shuffling, ceased instantly at his appearance. The crowd
+parted before him as before some natural force that brushed all men
+aside. It opened up even to the centre of the yard, and then Toppy saw
+whither Reivers was leading.
+
+On the bare ground was roped off a square which Toppy, with practised
+eye, saw was the regulation twenty-four-foot prize-fight ring. Rough,
+unbarked tamarack poles formed the corner-posts of the ring, and the
+ropes were heavy wire logging-cable. A yard from one side of the ring
+stood a table with a chair upon it. Reivers, with a careless, "Take a
+seat on the table and keep your eyes open," stepped easily upon the
+table, seated himself in the chair and looked amused as the men
+instinctively turned their faces up toward him.
+
+"Well, men," he said in a voice which reached like cold steel into the
+far corners of the enclosure, "court is open. The first case is Jan
+Torta and his brother Mikel against Bill Sheedy, whom they accuse of
+stealing ninety-eight dollars from them while they slept."
+
+As he spoke the names two young Slavs, clumsy but strongly built, their
+heavy faces for once alight with hate and desire for revenge, pushed
+close to one side of the ring, while on the other side a huge red-haired
+Celt, bloated and evil of face, stepped free of the crowd.
+
+"Bill stole the money, all right," continued Reivers, without looking at
+any of them. "He had the chance, and being a sneak thief by nature he
+took it. That's all right. The Torta boys had the money; now Bill's got
+it. The question is: Is Bill man enough to keep it? That's what we're
+going to settle now. He's got to show that he's a better man than the
+two fellows he took the money from. If he isn't, he's got to give up the
+money, or the two can have him to do what they want to with him. All
+right, boys; get 'em started there."
+
+At his brisk order four men whom Toppy had seen around camp as guards
+stepped forward, two to Sheedy, two to the Torta brothers, and proceeded
+first to search them for weapons, next to strip them to the waist.
+Sheedy hung back.
+
+"Not two av um tuh wanst, Mr. Reivers?" he asked humbly. "One after deh
+udder it oughta be; two tuh wanst, that ain't no way."
+
+"And why not, Bill?" asked Reivers gently. "You took it from both of
+them, didn't you? Then keep it against both of 'em, Bill. Throw 'em in
+there, boys!"
+
+Toppy looked around at the rows of eager faces that were pressing toward
+the ringside. Prize-fights he had witnessed by the score. He had even
+participated in one or two for a lark, and the brute lust that springs
+into the eyes of spectators was no stranger to him. But never had he
+seen anything like this. There was none of the restraint imposed upon
+the human countenance by civilisation in the fierce faces that gathered
+about this ring.
+
+Out of the dull eyes the primitive killing-animal showed unrestrained,
+unashamed. No dilettante interest in strength or skill here; merely the
+bare bloodthirsty desire to see a fellow-animal fight and bleed. Up
+above, the sky was clean and blue; the rough log walls shut out the rest
+of the world; the breathing of a mob of excited men was the only sound
+upon the quiet Sunday air. It was the old arena again; the merciless,
+gore-hungry crowd; the maddened gladiators; and upon the chair on the
+table, Reivers, lord of it all, the king-man, to whom it was all but an
+idle moment's play.
+
+Reivers, above it all, untouched by it all, and yet directing and
+swaying it all as his will listed. Laws, rules, teachings, creeds--all
+were discarded. Primitive force had for the nonce been given back its
+rule. And over it, and controlling it, as well as each of the maddened
+eight-score men around the ring--Reivers.
+
+And so thoroughly did Reivers dominate the whole affair that Toppy,
+sitting carelessly on the edge of the table, was conscious of it, and
+knew that he, too, felt instinctively inclined to do as the men did--to
+look to Reivers for a sign before daring to speak or make a move. The
+Snow-Burner was in the saddle. It wasn't natural, but every phase of the
+situation emanated from his master-man's will. It was even his wish that
+Toppy should sit thus at his feet and look on, and his wish was
+gratified.
+
+But it was well that the visor of Toppy's cap hid his eyes, else Reivers
+might have wondered at the look that flashed up at him from them.
+
+"Throw 'em in!" snapped Reivers, and the handlers thrust the three
+combatants, stripped to the waists but wearing calked lumberjack shoes,
+through the ropes.
+
+A cry went up to the sky from a hundred and fifty throats around the
+ringside--a cry that had close kinship with the joyous, merciless
+"Au-rr-ruh" of a wolf about to make its kill. Then an instant's silence
+as the rudely handled fighters came to their feet and faced for action.
+Then another hideous yelp rent the still air; the fighters had come
+together!
+
+"Queer ring-costumes, eh, Treplin?" came Reivers' voice mockingly. "Our
+own rules; the feet as well as the hands. Lord, what oxen!"
+
+The two Slavs had sprung upon their despoiler like two maddened cattle.
+Sheedy, rushing to meet them, head down, swung right and left overhand;
+and with a mighty smacking of hard fist on naked flesh, one Torta rolled
+on the ground while his brother stopped in his tracks, his arms pressed
+to his middle. The crowd bellowed.
+
+"Yes, I knew Sheedy had been a pug," said Reivers judicially.
+
+Sheedy deliberately took aim and swung for the jaw of the man who had
+not gone down. The Slav instinctively ducked his head, and the blow,
+slashing along his jawbone, tore loose his ear. Half stunned, he dropped
+to his knees, and Sheedy stepped back to poise for a killing kick. But
+now the man who had been knocked down first was on his feet, and with
+the scream of a wounded animal he hurled himself through the air and
+went down, his arms close-locked around Sheedy's right leg. Sheedy
+staggered. The ring became a little hell of distorted human speech.
+Sheedy bellowed horrible curses as he beat to a pulp the face that
+sought to bury itself in his thigh; his assailant screeched in Slavish
+terror; and the bull-like roar of his brother, rising to his feet with
+cleared senses and springing into the battle, intermingled with both.
+Sheedy's red face went pale.
+
+Around the ringside the faces of the Slavs shone with relief. The fight
+was going their way; they roared encouragement and glee in their own
+guttural tongue. The others--Irish, Americans, Scandinavians--rooting for
+Sheedy only because he was of their breed, were silent.
+
+"Hang tough, Bill," said one man quietly; and then in a second the
+slightly superior brains in Sheedy's head had turned the battle. Like a
+flash he dropped flat on his back as his fresh assailant reached out to
+grip him. The furious Slav followed him helplessly in the fall; and a
+single gruff, appreciative shout came from the few "white men."
+
+For they had seen, even as the Slav stumbled, Bill Sheedy's left leg
+shoot up like a catapult, burying the calked shoe to the ankle in the
+man's soft middle and flinging him to one side, a shuddering, senseless
+wreck. The man with his arms around Sheedy's leg looked up and saw. He
+was alone now, alone against the big man who had knocked him down with
+such ease. Toppy saw the man's mouth open and his face go yellow.
+
+"Na, na, na!" he cried piteously, as Sheedy's blows again rained upon
+him. "I give up, give up, give up!"
+
+He tried to bury his face in Bill's thigh; and Bill, mad with success,
+strove to pound him loose.
+
+"Kill him, Bill!" said one of the Irishmen quietly. "You got him now;
+kill him."
+
+"Stop." Reivers did not raise his voice. He seemed scarcely interested.
+Yet the roars around the ring died down. Sheedy stopped a blow half
+delivered and dropped his arms. The Slav released his clawlike hold and
+ran, sobbing, toward his prostrate brother.
+
+"All right, Bill; you keep the money--for all them," said Reivers. "Clear
+out the ring, boys, and get that other pair in there."
+
+The guards, springing into the ring as if under a lash, picked up the
+senseless man and thrust him like a sack of grain through the ropes and
+on to the ground at the feet of a group of his countrymen. Toppy saw
+these pick the man up and bear him away. The man's head hung down limply
+and dragged on the ground, and a thin stream of blood ran steadily out
+of one side of his mouth. His brother followed, loudly calling him by
+name.
+
+"Very efficacious, that left leg of Bill's; eh, Treplin?" said Reivers
+lightly. "Bill was the superior creature there. He had the wit and will
+to survive in a crisis; therefore he is entitled to the rewards of the
+superior over the inferior, which in this case means the ninety-eight
+dollars which the Torta boys once had. That's justice--natural justice
+for you, Treplin; and all the fumbling efforts of the lawmakers who've
+tried through the ages to reduce life to a pen-and-paper basis haven't
+been able to change the old rule one bit.
+
+"I'll admit that courts and all the fakery that goes with them have
+reduced the thing to a battle of brains, but after all it's the same old
+battle; the stronger win and hold. And," he concluded, waving his hand
+at the crowd, "you'll admit that Bill, and those Torta boys wouldn't be
+at their best in a contest of intelligence."
+
+Toppy refused Reivers the pleasure of seeing how the brutality of the
+affair disgusted him.
+
+"Why don't you follow the thing out to its logical conclusion?" he said
+carelessly. "The thing isn't settled as long as the Torta boys can
+possibly make reprisals. To be a consistent savage you'd have to let 'em
+go to it until one had killed the other. But even you don't dare to do
+that, do you, Reivers?"
+
+Reivers laughed, but the look that he bent on Toppy's bland face
+indicated that he was a trifle puzzled.
+
+"Then you wouldn't be running the camp efficiently, Treplin," he said.
+"It wouldn't make any difference if they were all Tortas; but Bill's a
+valuable man. He furnishes some one a bellyful of hating and fighting
+every week. No; I wouldn't have Bill killed for less than two hundred
+dollars. He's one of my best antidotes for the disease of discontent."
+
+The guards now had pulled two other men up to the ropes and were
+searching and stripping them. Toppy stared at the disparity in the sizes
+of the men as the clothes were pulled off them. One stood up strong and
+straight, the muscles bulging big beneath his dark skin, his neck short
+and heavy, his head cropped and round. He wore a small, upturned
+moustache and carried himself with a certain handy air that indicated
+his close acquaintance with ring-events. The other man was short and
+dark, obviously an Italian; the skin of his body was a sickly white, his
+face olive green. He stood crouched, and beneath his ragged beard two
+teeth gleamed, like the fangs of a snarling dog.
+
+"Antonio, the Knife-Expert, and Mahmout, the Strangling Bulgarian,"
+announced Reivers laughingly. "Tony tried to stick Mahmout because of a
+little lady back in Rail Head, and made such a poor job of it that
+Mahmout has offered to meet him in the ring; Tony with his knife,
+Mahmout with his wrestling-tricks. Start 'em off."
+
+The Bulgarian was under the ropes and upright in the ring before the
+Italian had started. He was in his stocking-feet, and despite the
+clumsiness of his build he moved with a quickness and ease that told of
+the fine co-ordination of the effective athlete. When the Italian
+entered the ring he held his right hand behind his back, and in the hand
+gleamed the six-inch blade of a wicked-looking stiletto.
+
+A shiver ran along Toppy's spine, but he continued to play the game.
+
+"Evidently Mahmout isn't a valuable man; you don't care what happens to
+him," he said.
+
+"Not particularly," replied Reivers seriously. "He's a good man on the
+rollways--nothing extra. Still, I hardly believe Tony can kill him--not
+this time, at least."
+
+The faces around the ring grew fiercer now. Growled curses and
+exclamations came through clenched teeth. Here was the spectacle that
+the brute-spirit hungered for--the bare, living flesh battling for life
+against the merciless, gleaming steel.
+
+The big Bulgarian moved neatly forward, bent over at the waist, his
+strong arms extended, hands open before him in the practised wrestler's
+guard and attack. His feet did not leave the ground as he sidled
+forward, and his eyes never moved from the Italian's right arm. The
+latter, snarling and panting, retreated slightly, then began to circle
+carefully, his small eyes searching for the opening through which he
+could leap in and drive home his steel.
+
+The Bulgarian turned with him, his guard always before him, as a bull
+turns its head to face the circling wolf. Without a sound the knife-man
+suddenly stopped and lunged a sweeping slash at the menacing hands.
+Mahmout, grasping for a hold on hand or wrist, caught the tip of the
+blade in his palm, and a slow bellow of rage shook him as he saw the
+blood flow. But he did not lower his guard nor take his eyes from his
+opponent.
+
+The Italian retreated and circled again. A horrible sneer distorted his
+face, and the knife flashed in the sunlight as he slashed it to and fro
+before the other's hands. The crowd growled its appreciation. Three
+times Antonio leaped forward, slashed, and leaped back again; and each
+time the blood flowed from Mahmout's slashed fingers. But the wrestler's
+guard never lowered nor did he falter in his set plan of battle. He was
+working to get his man into a corner.
+
+The Italian soon saw this and, leaping nimbly sidewise, lunged for
+Mahmout's ribs. The right arm of the Bulgarian dropped in time to save
+his life, but the knife, deflected from its fatal aim, ripped through
+the top muscles of his back for six inches. The mob roared at the fresh
+blood, but Mahmout was working silently. In his spring the Italian had
+only leaped toward another corner of the ring.
+
+Mahmout leaped suddenly toward him. Antonio, stabbing swiftly at the
+hands reached out for him, jumped back. A cry from a countryman in the
+crowd warned him. Swiftly he glanced over his shoulder, saw that he was
+cornered, and with a low, sweeping swing of the arm he threw the knife
+low at Mahmout's abdomen.
+
+The blade glinted as it flashed through the air; it thudded as it struck
+home; but the death-cry which the mob yelped out died short. With the
+expert's quickness Mahmout had flung his huge forearms before the
+speeding blade. Now he held his left arm up. The stiletto, quivering
+from the impact, had pierced it through.
+
+With a fierce roar Mahmout plucked out the knife, hurled it from the
+ring and dived forward. The Italian fought like a fury, feet, teeth and
+fingernails making equal play. He sank his teeth in the injured left
+arm. Mahmout groped with his one sound hand and methodically clamped a
+hold on an ankle. He made sure that the hold was a firm one; then he
+wrenched suddenly--once. The Italian screamed and stiffened straight up
+under the appalling pain. Then he fell flat to the ground, and Toppy saw
+that his right foot was twisted squarely around and that the leg lay
+limp on the ground like a twisted rag.
+
+"Stop," said Reivers, and Mahmout stepped back. "Take Tony's knife away
+from him, boys. Mahmout wins--for the time being."
+
+"Inconsistent again," muttered Toppy. "Your scheme is all fallacies,
+Reivers. You give Tony a knife with which he may kill Mahmout at one
+stroke, but you don't let Mahmout finish him when he's got him down. Why
+don't you carry your system to its logical conclusion?"
+
+"Why don't I?" chuckled Reivers, stepping down from the table. "Why,
+simply because Signor Antonio is the camp cook, and cooks are too scarce
+to be destroyed unnecessarily. Now come along, Treplin. Court's
+adjourned; a light docket to-day. I've been thinking of your wanting to
+learn how to run a logging-camp. I'm going to give you a change of jobs.
+You'll be no good in the blacksmith-shop till your ankle's normal again.
+Come along; I'll show you what I've picked out for you."
+
+He turned away from the ring as from a finished episode in the day's
+work. That was over. Whether Torta or Antonio lived or died, were whole
+or crippled for the rest of their lives, had no room in his thoughts. He
+strode toward the gate as if the yard were empty, and the crowd opened a
+way far before him. Outside the gate he led the way around the stockade
+toward where the river roared and tumbled through the chutes of Cameron
+Dam.
+
+A cliff-like ledge, perhaps thirty feet in height, situated close to one
+end of the dam, was Reivers' objective, and he led Toppy around to the
+side facing the river. Here the dirt had been scraped away on the face
+of the ledge, and a great cave torn in the exposed rock. The hole was
+probably fifty feet wide, and ran from twelve to fifteen feet under the
+brow of the ledge. Toppy was surprised to see no timbers upholding the
+rocky roof, which seemed at any moment likely to drop great masses of
+jagged stone into the opening beneath.
+
+"My little rock-pile," explained Reivers lightly. "When my brutes aren't
+good I put 'em to work here. The rock goes into the dam out there. Just
+at present Rosky's band of would-be malcontents are the ones who are
+suffering for daring to be dissatisfied with the--ah--simplicity, let us
+say, of Hell Camp."
+
+He laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"I'm going to put you in charge of this quarry, Treplin. You're to see
+that they get one hundred wheelbarrows of rock out of here per hour.
+You'll be here at daylight to-morrow."
+
+Toppy nodded quietly.
+
+"What's the punishment here?" he asked, puzzled. "It looks like nothing
+more than hard work to me."
+
+Reivers smiled the same smile that he had smiled upon Rosky.
+
+"Look at the roof of that pit, Treplin," he said. "You've noticed that
+it isn't timbered up. Occasionally a stone drops down. Sometimes several
+stones. But one hundred barrows an hour have to come out of there just
+the same. And those rocks up there, you'll notice, are beautifully sharp
+and heavy."
+
+Toppy felt Reivers' eyes upon him, watching to see what effect this
+explanation would have, and consequently he no more betrayed his
+feelings than he had at the brutal scenes of the "court."
+
+"I see," he said casually. "I suppose this is why you made me read up on
+fractures?"
+
+"Partly," said Reivers. He looked up at the jagged rocks in the roof of
+the pit and grinned. "And sometimes an accident here calls for a job for
+a pick and shovel. But I'm just, Treplin; only the malcontents are put
+to work in here."
+
+"That is, those who have dared to declare themselves something besides
+your helpless slaves."
+
+"Or dared to think of declaring themselves thus," agreed Reivers
+promptly.
+
+"I see." Toppy was looking blandly at the roof, but his mind was working
+busily.
+
+"Just why do you give me charge of this hole, Reivers--if you don't mind
+my asking? Isn't it rather an unusual honour for a green hand to be put
+over a crew like this?"
+
+"Unusual! Oh, how beastly banal of you, Treplin!" laughed Reivers
+carelessly. "Surely you didn't expect me to do the usual thing, did you?
+You say you want to learn how to handle a camp like this. You're an
+interesting sort of creature, and I'd like to see you work out in the
+game of handling men, so I give you this chance. Oh, I'll do great
+things for you, Treplin, before I'm done with you! You can imagine all
+that I've got in store for you."
+
+The smile vanished and he turned away. He was through with this
+incident, too. Without another word or look at Toppy he went back to the
+stockade, his mind already busy with some other project. Toppy stood
+looking after him until Reivers' broad back disappeared around the
+corner of the stockade.
+
+"No, you clever devil!" he muttered. "I can't imagine. But whatever it
+is, I promise I'll hand it back to you with a little interest, or
+furnish a job for a pick and shovel."
+
+He walked slowly back to the blacksmith-shop. He was glad to be left
+alone. Though he had permitted no sign of it to escape him, Toppy had
+been enraged and sickened at what he had seen in the stockade. He
+admitted to himself that it was not the fact that men had been disabled
+and crippled, nor the brutal rules that had governed, nor that men had
+been exposed to death at the hands of others before his eyes, that had
+stirred him so. It was--Reivers. Reivers sitting up there on the table
+playing with men's bodies and lives as with so many cards--Reivers, the
+dominant, lord over his fellows.
+
+The veins swelled in Toppy's big neck as he thought of Reivers, and his
+hitherto good-natured face took on a scowl that might have become some
+ancestral man-captain in the days of mace and mail, but which never
+before had found room on Toppy's countenance--not even when the opposing
+half-backs were guilty of slugging. But he was playing another game now,
+an older one, a fiercer one, and one which called to him as nothing had
+called before. It was the man-game now; and out there in the old, stern
+forest, spurred by the challenge of the man who was his natural enemy,
+the primitive fighting-man in Toppy shook off the restraint with which
+breeding, education and living had cumbered him, and stood out in a
+fashion that would have shocked Toppy's friends back East.
+
+Near the shop he met Miss Pearson. By her manner he saw that she had
+been waiting for him, but Toppy merely raised his cap and made to pass
+on.
+
+"Mr. Treplin!" There was astonishment at his rudeness in her
+exclamation.
+
+"Well?" said Toppy.
+
+"Your ankle?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Pardon me for not expressing my thanks before. It's almost
+well--thanks to you and Mr. Reivers."
+
+She made a slight shrinking movement and stood looking at him for a
+moment. She opened her lips, but no words came.
+
+"Old Scotty told me about your kindness in coming to see me, you and Mr.
+Reivers together," said Toppy. "It was a relief to learn that your
+confidence in Reivers was justified."
+
+She looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. A troubled look swept
+over her face. Then with a toss of the head she turned and crossed the
+road, and Toppy swung on his way to the room in the rear of the shop and
+closed the door behind him with a vicious slam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII--TOPPY'S FIRST MOVE
+
+
+Next morning, in the cold stillness which precedes the coming of
+daylight in the North, Toppy stood leaning on his axe-handle cane and
+watched his crew of a dozen men file out of the stockade gate and turn
+toward the stone-quarry. They walked with the driven air of prisoners
+going to punishment. In the darkness their squat, shapeless figures were
+scarcely human. Their heads hung, their steps were listless, as if they
+had just completed a hard day's work instead of having arisen from a
+hearty breakfast.
+
+The complete lack of spirit evinced by the men irritated Toppy. Was
+Reivers right after all? Were they nothing but clods, undeserving of
+fair and intelligent treatment?
+
+"Hey! Wake up there! You look like a bunch of corpses. Show some life!"
+cried Toppy, in whom the bitter morning air was sending the red blood
+tingling.
+
+The men did not raise their heads. They quickened their stumbling steps
+a little, as a heavy horse shambles forward a little under the whip. One
+or two looked back, beyond where Toppy was walking at the side of the
+line. Treplin with curiosity followed their glances. A grim-lipped
+shotgun guard with a hideous hawk nose had emerged from the darkness,
+and with his short-barrelled weapon in the crook of his arm was
+following the line at a distance of fifty or sixty feet. Toppy halted
+abruptly. So did the guard.
+
+"What's the idea?" demanded Toppy. "Reivers send you?"
+
+"Yes," said the guard gruffly.
+
+"Does it take two of us to make this gang work?" Toppy was irritated.
+Reivers, he knew, would have handled the gang alone.
+
+"The boss sent me," said the guard, with a finality that indicated that
+for him that ended the discussion.
+
+The daylight now came wanly up the gap made in the forest by the
+brawling river, and the men stood irresolute before the quarry and
+peered up anxiously at the roof of the pit.
+
+"Grab your tools," said Toppy. "Get in there and get to it."
+
+The men, some of them taking picks and crowbars, some wheelbarrows, were
+soon ready to begin the day's work. But there was a hitch somewhere.
+They stood at the entrance to the pit and did not go in. They looked up
+at the threatening roof; then they looked anxiously, pleadingly, at
+Toppy. But Toppy was thinking savagely of how Reivers would have handled
+the gang alone and he paid no attention.
+
+"Get in there!" he roared. "Come on; get to work!"
+
+Accustomed to being driven, they responded at once to his command.
+Between two fears, fear of the dropping rocks and fear of the man over
+them, they entered the quarry and began the day's work. The guard took
+up a position on a slight eminence, where he was always in plain sight
+of the men, whether in the cave or wheeling the rock out to the dam. He
+held his gun constantly in the hollow of his arm, like a hunter.
+
+Ten minutes after the first crowbar had clanged against rock in the
+quarry there was a rumbling sound, a crash, a scream; and the men came
+scrambling out in terror. Their rush stopped abruptly just outside the
+cave. Toppy was standing directly before them; the man with the gun had
+noisily cocked his weapon and brought the black barrel to bear on the
+heads of the men. Half of them slunk at once back into the cave. One of
+the others held up a bleeding hand to Toppy.
+
+"Ah, pleess, bahss, pleess," he pleaded. "Rock kill us next time.
+Pleess, bahss!"
+
+There was a moment of silence while Toppy looked at the men's
+terror-stricken faces. The shotgun guard rattled the slide on his gun.
+The men began to retreat into the cave, their helplessness and
+hopelessness writ large upon their flat faces.
+
+"Hold on there!" said Toppy suddenly. After all, a fellow couldn't do
+things like that--drive helpless cattle like these to certain injury,
+even possible death. "I'll take a look in there."
+
+He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men and entered the pit. A
+few rocks had dropped from the roof, luckily falling in a far corner
+beyond where the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how serious
+this petty accident was; for the whole roof of the cave now was
+loosened, and as sure as the men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath
+they would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads.
+
+"Like rats in a trap," he thought. "Hi!" he called. "Get out of here.
+Get out!"
+
+Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile of old timbers which
+probably had been used for piling while the dam was being put in.
+Thither he now led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself he
+hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang, each bearing a timber. A
+sudden change had come over the men as he indicated what he was going to
+do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was gone. Some of them smiled,
+and some talked excitedly. Under Toppy's direction they went to work
+with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave. It was only a
+half-hour's work to place the props so that the men working beneath were
+free of any serious danger from above. Toppy could sense the change of
+feeling toward him that had come over the men as they saw the timbers go
+into place, and he was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably.
+They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and the gratitude in
+their faces was pitiful to behold.
+
+"Now jump!" said Toppy when the roof was safely propped. "Hustle and
+make up the time we've lost."
+
+As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang with noise as the men
+furiously tore loose the rock and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a
+long breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard spat in disgust.
+
+"Will you do me a favour?" said Toppy, suddenly swinging toward him.
+
+"What is it?" asked the man.
+
+"Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him your services are no
+longer required at this spot. Tell him I said you looked like a fool,
+standing up there with your bum gun. Tell him--" Toppy, despite his sore
+ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside the guard before the latter
+thought of making a move--"that I said I'd throw you and your gun in the
+river if you didn't duck. And for your own information--" Toppy was
+towering over the man--"I'll do it right now, unless you get out of
+here--quick!"
+
+The guard's shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy's and failed. Against the
+Slavs he would have dared to use his gun; they were his inferiors.
+Against Toppy he did not dare even so much as to think of the weapon,
+and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid of men who looked him in
+the eyes.
+
+"The boss sent me here," he said sullenly.
+
+Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to the guard's. The man
+shrank.
+
+"Duck!" said Toppy. That was all. The guard moved away with an alacrity
+that showed how uncomfortable the spot had become to him.
+
+"You'll hear about this!" he whined from a distance.
+
+And Toppy laughed, laughed carelessly and loudly, rampant with the
+sensation of power. The men, scurrying past with barrows of rock, noted
+the retreat of the guard and smiled. They looked up at Toppy with
+slavish admiration, as lesser men look up to the champion who has
+triumphed before their eyes. One or two of the older men raised their
+hats as they passed him, their Old-World serf-like way of showing how
+they felt toward him.
+
+"Jump!" ordered Toppy gruffly. "Get a move on there; make up that lost
+time."
+
+Reivers had said that a hundred barrows an hour must be dumped into the
+dam. With a half hour lost in shoring up the roof, there were fifty
+loads to be caught up during the day if the average was to be
+maintained. Carefully timing each load and keeping tally for half an
+hour, Toppy saw that a hundred loads per hour was the limit of his gang
+working at a normal pace. To get out the hundred loads they must keep
+steadily at work, with no time lost because of the falling rocks from
+above.
+
+He began to see the method of Reivers' apparent madness in placing him
+in charge of the gang. With the gang working in the dead, terrorised
+fashion that had characterised their movements before the timbers were
+in place, Toppy knew that he would have failed; he could not have got
+out the hundred loads per hour. Reivers would have proved him to be his
+inferior; for Reivers, with his inhumanity, would have driven the gang
+as if no lives nor limbs hung on the tissue.
+
+Toppy smiled grimly as he looked at his watch and marked new figures on
+the tally sheet. The men, pitifully grateful for the protecting timbers,
+had taken hold of their work with such new life that the rock was going
+into the dam at the rate of one hundred and twenty loads an hour.
+
+"Move number one!" muttered Toppy, snapping shut his watch. "I wonder
+what the Snow-Burner's come-back will be when he knows. Hey, you
+roughnecks! Keep moving, there; keep moving!"
+
+The men responded cheerfully to his every command. They could gladly
+obey his will; they were safe under him; he had taken care of them, the
+helpless ones. That evening, when they filed back into the stockade
+under Toppy's watchful eye, one of the older men, a swarthy old fellow
+with large brass rings in his ears, sank his hat low as he passed in.
+
+"Buna nopte, Domnule," he said humbly.
+
+"What did he say?" demanded Toppy of one of the young men who knew a
+little English.
+
+"Plees, bahss; old man, he Magyar," was the reply. "He say, 'Good night,
+master.'"
+
+Toppy stood dumfounded while the line passed through the gate.
+
+"Well," he said with a grin, "what do you know about that?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII--REIVERS REPLIES
+
+
+Reivers did not come to the shop that night for his evening diversion,
+nor did Toppy see him at all during the next day. But in the morning
+following he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in his own peculiar
+way of Toppy's action in driving the shotgun guard away from the quarry.
+As the line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill half
+light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang, a cheerful, stocky man
+called Mikal, was missing. In his place, walking with the successful
+plug-ugly's insolent swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the
+appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy knew that Reivers had
+made another move in his tantalising game.
+
+He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought of it. Reivers was
+playing with him, too, playing even as he had played with Rosky! And
+Toppy knew that, like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too, to
+be crushed--to be marked as an inferior, to be made to acknowledge
+Reivers as his master.
+
+Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy's eyes and had, with
+his cold smile of complete confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge.
+The substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers' pet troublemaker, for an
+effective workman was a definite move toward Toppy's humiliation.
+
+There was nothing in Toppy's manner, however, to indicate his feelings
+as he followed the line to the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy's swagger,
+by which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for trouble, to go as
+if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely simple of mind, leaped instantly
+to the conclusion that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered more
+insolently than ever. He was in an irritable mood this morning, was Bill
+Sheedy; and as soon as the gang was out of sight of the stockade--and,
+thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight of Reivers--he
+began to vent his irritation upon his fellow-workmen.
+
+He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them, threatened them with
+his fists, kicked them carelessly. There was no finesse in Bill's
+method; he was mad and showed it. When the daylight came up the river
+sufficiently strong to begin the day's work, Bill had worked himself up
+to a proper frame of mind for his purpose. He stood still while the
+other men willingly seized their tools and barrows and tramped into the
+quarry.
+
+Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated by his manner he
+was quite oblivious of Sheedy's existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy
+with a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to go in with the
+other men. The order did not come. Toppy was busy directing the men
+where to begin their work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill
+finally was forced to call attention to himself.
+
+"----!" he growled, spitting generously. "Yah ain't goin' tuh git me tuh
+wurruk in no hole like that."
+
+"All right, Bill," said Toppy instantly. "All right."
+
+Bill was staggered. His simple mind failed utterly to comprehend that
+there might lie something behind Toppy's apparently humble manner. Bill
+could see only one thing--the straw-boss was afraid of him.
+
+"Yah ---- know it, it's all right!" he spluttered. "If it ain't I'd ----
+soon make it all right."
+
+"Sure," said Toppy, and without looking toward Bill he hurried into the
+quarry to see how the timbers were standing the strain. Bill stood
+puzzled. He had bluffed the straw-boss, sure enough; but still the thing
+wasn't entirely satisfactory. The boss didn't seem to care whether he
+worked or whether he loafed. Bill refused to be treated with such little
+consideration. He was of more importance than that.
+
+"Hey, you!" he called as Toppy emerged from the pit. "I'm going to wheel
+rock down to the dam, that's what I'm going tuh do. Going to wheel it;
+but yuh ain't goin' tuh make me go in there and dig it. See? I'm going
+to wheel rock."
+
+Now for the first time Toppy seemed to consider Bill.
+
+"What makes you think you are?" he said quietly. He was looking at his
+watch, but Bill noticed that in spite of his sore ankle and cane the
+boss had managed to move near to him in uncannily swift fashion.
+
+"You know you can't work here now," Toppy continued before Bill's thick
+wits had framed an answer. "You won't go into the quarry, so I can't use
+you."
+
+Bill stared as if bereft of all of his faculties. The boss had slipped
+his watch back into his pocket. He had turned away.
+
+"Can't use me--can't----Say! Who says I can't work here?" roared Bill,
+shaking his fists. He was standing on the plank on which the
+wheelbarrows were rolled out of the cave, blocking the way of the men
+with the first loads of the day.
+
+"Look out, Bill!" said Toppy softly, turning around. Instinctively Bill
+threw up his guard--threw it up to guard his jaw. Toppy's left drove into
+his solar plexus so hard that Bill seemed to be moulded on to the fist,
+hung there until he dropped and rolled backward on the ground.
+
+"Get along there!" commanded Toppy to the wheel-barrowmen. "The way's
+clear. Jump!"
+
+Grinning and snatching glances of ridicule at the prostrate Sheedy, they
+hurried past. They dumped their loads in the dam and came back with
+empty barrows, and still Sheedy lay there, like a dumped grain-sack, to
+one side of their path. The flat faces of the men cracked with grins as
+they looked worshipfully at Toppy.
+
+"Jump!" said he. "Get a move on, you roughnecks"
+
+And they grinned more widely in sheer delight at his rough ordering.
+
+Bill Sheedy lay for a long time as he had fallen. The blow he had
+stopped would have done for a pugilist in good condition, and Sheedy's
+midriff was soft and fat. Finally he raised his head and looked around.
+Such surprise and wobegoneness showed in his expression that the
+grinning Slavs laughed outright at him. Bill slowly came to a sitting
+posture and drew a hand across his puzzled brow while he looked dully at
+the laughing men and at Toppy. Then he remembered and he dropped his
+eyes.
+
+"Get on your way, Bill," said Toppy casually. "If you're not able to
+walk, I'll have half a dozen of the men help you. You're through here."
+
+Bill lurched unsteadily to his feet and staggered away a few steps. That
+terrific punch and the iron-calm manner of the man who had dealt it had
+scared him. His first thought was to get out of reach; his second, one
+of anger at the Bohunks who dared to laugh at him, Bill Sheedy, the
+fighting man!
+
+But the fashion in which the men laughed took the nerve out of Bill.
+They were laughing contemptuously at him; they looked down upon him;
+they were no longer afraid. And there were a dozen of them, and they
+laughed together; and Bill Sheedy knew that his days as camp bully were
+over. The straw-boss was looking at him coldly, and Bill moved farther
+away. Fifteen minutes later the straw-boss, who had apparently been
+oblivious of his presence, swung around and said abruptly:
+
+"What's the matter, Bill? Why don't you go back to Reivers?"
+
+Bill's growled reply contained several indistinct but definitely profane
+characterisations of Reivers.
+
+"I can't go back to him," Sheedy said sullenly.
+
+"Why not?" laughed Treplin. "He's your friend, isn't he? He let you keep
+the money you'd stolen, and all that."
+
+"Keep----!" growled Sheedy. "He's got that himself. Made me make him a
+present of it, or--or he'd turn me over for a little trouble I had down
+in Duluth."
+
+Toppy stiffened and looked at him carefully.
+
+"Telling the truth, Bill?"
+
+"Ask him," replied Sheedy. "He don't make no bones about it; he gets
+something on you and then he grafts on you till you're dry."
+
+Toppy stood silent while he assimulated this information. His scrutiny
+of Sheedy told him that the man was telling the truth. He felt grateful
+to Sheedy; through him he had got a new light on Reivers' character,
+light which he knew he could use later on.
+
+"Through making an ass of yourself here, Bill?" he asked briskly. Bill's
+answer was to hang his head in a way that showed how thoroughly all the
+fight was taken out of him.
+
+"All right, then; grab a wheelbarrow and get into the pit. Keep your end
+up with the other men and there'll be no hard feelings. Try to play any
+of your tricks, and it's good night for you. Now get to it, or get out."
+
+Sheedy's rush for a wheelbarrow showed how relieved he was. He had been
+standing between the devil and the deep sea--between Reivers with his
+awful displeasure and Toppy with his awful punch; and he was eager to
+find a haven.
+
+"I ain't trying any tricks," he muttered as he made for the quarry. "The
+Snow-Burner--he's the one. He copped me dough and sent me down here and
+told me to work off my mad on you."
+
+"Well, you've worked it off now, I guess," said Toppy curtly. "Dig in,
+now; you're half a dozen loads behind."
+
+Sheedy did not fill the place of the man he had supplanted, for in his
+mixed-ale condition he was unable to work a full day at a strong man's
+pace. However, he did so well that when Toppy checked up in the evening
+he found that his tally again was well over the stipulated average of a
+hundred loads of rock per hour.
+
+"Move two," he thought. "I wonder what comes next?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV--"JOKER AND DEUCES WILD"
+
+
+When Toppy went back to the shop that evening he found old Campbell
+cooking the evening meal with only his right hand in use, the left being
+wrapped in a neat bandage.
+
+"That's what comes of leaving me without a helper," grumbled the Scot as
+Toppy looked enquiringly at the injured hand. "I maun have ye back, lad;
+I will not be knocking my hands to pieces doing two men's work to please
+any man. And yet--" he cocked his head on one side and looked fondly at
+the bandage--"I dunno but what 'twas worth it. I'm an auld man, and it's
+long sin' I had a pretty lass make fuss over me."
+
+"What?" snapped Toppy.
+
+"Oh, go on with ye, lad," teased Scotty, holding the bandage up for his
+admiration. "Can not you see that I'm by nature a fav'rite with the
+ladies? Yon lass in the office sewed this bandage on my old meat hook.
+
+"'Does it hurt, Mr. Campbell?' says she. 'Not as much as something
+that's heavy on my mind, lass,' says I. 'What's that?' she says. 'Mr.
+Reivers and you, lass,' says I; and I told her as well as an old man can
+tell a lass who's little more than a child just what the Snow-Burner is.
+'I can't believe it,' says she. 'He's a gentleman.' 'More's the pity,' I
+says. 'That's what makes him dangerous.' 'Were you not afraid of him at
+first?' says I. 'Yes,' she says. 'Tell me honest, as you would your own
+father,' says I, 'are you not afraid of him now?'
+
+"With that she gave me a look like a little fawn that has smelled the
+wolf circling 'round it, but she will not answer. 'He can't be what you
+say he is,' she says, trembling. 'Lass,' says I, 'a week ago you would
+never have believed it possible that you'd ever wish aught to do with
+him. Now you walk with him and talk with him, and smile when he does.'
+And I told her of Tilly.
+
+"'It's not so,' says she. 'It can't be so. Mr. Reivers is a gentleman,
+not a brute. He's too strong and fine,' says she, 'for such conduct.'
+And the bandage being done, I was dismissed with a toss of the head.
+Aye, aye, lad; but 'twas fine to have her little fingers sewing away
+around my old hand. Yon's a fine, sweet lass; but I fear me Reivers has
+set his will to win her."
+
+Toppy made no reply. Campbell's words aroused only one emotion in him--a
+fresh flare of anger against Reivers. For it was Reivers, and his
+strength and dominance, that was responsible. Toppy already was sorry
+for the swift judgment that he had passed on the girl on Sunday, and for
+the rudeness which, in his anger, he had displayed toward her. He knew
+now the power that lay in Reivers' will, the calm, compelling fire that
+lurked in his eyes.
+
+Men quailed before those eyes and did their bidding. And a girl, a
+little girl who must naturally feel grateful toward him for her
+position, could hardly be expected to resist the Snow-Burner's
+undeniable fascinations. Why should she? Reivers was everything that
+women were drawn to in men--kinglike in his power of mind and body,
+striking in appearance, successful in whatever he sought to do.
+
+It was inevitable that the girl should fall under his spell, but the
+thought of it sent a chill up Toppy's spine as from the thought of
+something monstrous. He raged inwardly as he remembered how clearly the
+girl had let him see his own insignificance in her estimation compared
+with Reivers. She had refused to believe Campbell; Toppy knew that she
+would refuse to listen to him if he tried to warn her against Reivers.
+
+The fashion in which he slammed the supper-dishes on the table brought a
+protest from Scotty.
+
+"Dinna be so strong with the dishes, lad; they're not iron," said he.
+
+"You 'tend to your cooking," growled Toppy. "I'll set this table."
+
+Campbell paused with a spoon in midair and gaped at him in astonishment.
+He opened his mouth to speak, but the black scowl on Toppy's brow
+checked his tongue. Silently he turned to his cooking. He had seen that
+he was no longer boss in the room behind the shop.
+
+After supper Campbell brought forth a deck of cards and began to play
+solitaire. Toppy threw himself upon his bunk and lay in the darkness
+with his troublesome thoughts. An unmistakable step outside the door
+brought him to his feet, for he had an instinctive dislike to meeting
+Reivers save face to face and standing up. Reivers came in without
+speaking and shut the door behind him. He stood with his hand on the
+knob and looked over at Toppy and shook his head.
+
+"Treplin, how could you disappoint me so?" he asked mockingly. "After I
+had reposed such confidence in you, too! I'm sorely disappointed in you.
+I never looked for you to be a victim of the teachings of weak men and I
+find--ye gods! I find that you're a humanitarian!"
+
+By this and this only did Reivers indicate that he had knowledge of how
+Toppy had protected his men.
+
+Toppy looked steadily across the room at him, a grim smile on his lips.
+
+"Did Bill Sheedy call me that?" he asked drily. "Shame on him if he did;
+I didn't make him slip me the Torta boys' money as a present."
+
+Reivers' laugh rang instantly through the room.
+
+"So you've won Bill's confidences already, have you?" he said without
+the slightest trace of shame or discomfiture. "Dear old Bill! He
+actually seemed to be under the impression that he had a title to that
+money--until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin, as a man with a
+trained if not an efficient mind, is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess
+the title to ninety-eight dollars?"
+
+He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and reached into the
+cupboard for Scotty's whiskey. As he did so his eyes fell upon the cards
+which Scotty was placing upon the table, and for the first time Toppy
+saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness. Reivers stood, paused,
+for an instant, his eyes feasting upon the cards. It was only an
+instant, but it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the
+Snow-Burner's passion for play. And Toppy exulted at this chance
+discovery of the vulnerable joint in Reivers' armour; for Toppy--alas for
+his misspent youth!--was a master-warrior when a deck of cards was the
+field of battle.
+
+"It's none of my funeral, Reivers," he said carelessly, strolling over
+to the table where Campbell went on playing, apparently oblivious to the
+conversation. "I don't know anything about Sheedy. Of course, if you're
+serious, the Torta boys are the only ones in camp who've got any right
+to the money."
+
+Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself a drink. Campbell,
+with his back toward Reivers, paused with a card in his hand. Toppy
+yawned and dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell's
+game.
+
+"But that's none of my business," he said as if dropping the subject.
+"There's a chance for your black queen, Scotty."
+
+Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch whiskey, drew up a
+third chair to the table and sat down across from Toppy. The latter
+apparently was absorbed in watching Campbell's solitaire. Reivers took a
+long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and smiled pleasantly.
+
+"You turned loose an idea there, Treplin," he said. "But can you make
+your premise stand argument? Are you sure that the Torta boys are the
+ones who have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what grounds do
+you give them the exclusive title to the money?"
+
+"It's theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he did. That's all I
+know about it," said Toppy, scarcely raising his eyes from the cards.
+
+"Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?" persisted Reivers smilingly.
+"Merely because they had it in their possession! Isn't that so? You
+don't know how they came by it, but because they had it in their
+possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill Sheedy took it
+away from them. It was in his possession, so, following your line of
+logic, it was his--for a short while.
+
+"I took it from Bill. It's in my possession now. Therefore, if your
+premise is sound, the money is mine. Why, Treplin, I'm really obliged to
+you for furnishing me such a clear title to my loot. It was--ah--beginning
+to trouble my conscience." He laughed suddenly, punctuating his laughter
+with a blow of his fist on the table.
+
+"All rot, Treplin; all silly sophistry which weak men have built up to
+protect themselves from the strong! The infernal lie that because a man
+is in possession of a certain thing it is his to the exclusion of the
+rest of the world! Property-rights! I'll tell you the truth--why this
+money is mine, why I'm the one who has the real title to it. I was able
+to take it, and I am able to keep it. There's the natural law of
+property-rights, Treplin. What do you say to that?"
+
+"Fine!" laughed Toppy, throwing up his hands in surrender. "You bowl me
+over, Reivers. The money is yours; and--" he glanced at the cards "--and
+if you and I should play a little game of poker, joker and deuces wild,
+and I should take it away from you, it would be mine; and there you
+are."
+
+The words had slipped out of him, apparently without any aim; but Toppy
+saw by the sudden glance which Reivers dropped to the cards that the
+gambling-hunger in the Snow-Burner had been awakened.
+
+"Joker and deuces wild," he repeated as if fascinated. "Yes, that ought
+to help make a two-handed game fast."
+
+The whole manner of the man seemed for the moment changed. For the first
+time since Toppy had met him he seemed to be seriously interested.
+Previously, when he played with the lives and bodies of men or devilled
+their minds with his wiles, his interest had never been deeper than that
+of a man who plays to keep himself from being bored. He was the master
+in all such affairs; they could furnish him at their best but an idle
+sort of interest. But not even the Snow-Burner was master of the
+inscrutable laws of Chance. Nor was he master of himself when cards were
+flipping before his eyes. Toppy had guessed right; Reivers had a
+weakness, and it was to be "card-crazy."
+
+"Get over there on that other table with your solitaire, Campbell!" he
+ordered. He reached into Campbell's liquor-cabinet and drew out a fresh
+pack of cards, which he tossed to Toppy. "You started something, Mr.
+Humanitarian," he continued, clearing the table. "Open the deck and cut
+for deal. Then show me what you've got to stack up against this
+ninety-eight dollars." And he slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the
+table.
+
+Toppy nonchalantly reached into his pockets. Then he grinned. The two
+twenty-dollar bills which he had paid the agent back in Rail Head for
+the privilege of hiring out to Hell Camp were all the money he had with
+him. He was broke. He debated with himself a moment, then unhooked his
+costly watch from the chain and pushed it across to Reivers.
+
+"You can sell that for five hundred--if you win it," he said. "I'll play
+it even against your ninety-eight bucks. Give me forty-nine to start
+with. If you win them give me forty-nine more, and the watch is yours.
+Right?"
+
+"Right," said Reivers, keeping the watch and dividing his roll with
+Toppy. "Dollar jack-pots, table-stakes. Deal 'em up."
+
+Toppy lost ten dollars on the first hand almost before he realised that
+the game had begun. He called Reivers' bet and had three fours and
+nothing else in his hand. Reivers had two of the wild deuces and a king.
+Toppy shook his head, like a pugilist clearing his wits after a
+knockdown. Why had he called? He knew his three fours weren't good. His
+card-sense had told him so. He had called against his judgment. Why?
+
+Suddenly, like something tangible pressing against his brain, he felt
+Reivers' will thrusting itself against his. Then he knew. That was why
+he had called. Reivers had willed that he do so, and, catching him off
+his guard, had had his way.
+
+"Good work!" said Toppy, passing the cards. He was himself again; his
+wits had cleared. He allowed Reivers to take the next three pots in
+succession without a bet. Reivers looked at him puzzled. The fourth pot
+Toppy opened for five dollars and Reivers promptly raised him ten. After
+the draw Toppy bet a dollar, and Reivers again raised it to ten more.
+Toppy called. Reivers, caught bluffing without a single pair, stared as
+Toppy laid down his hand and revealed nothing but his original openers,
+a pair of aces. A frown passed over Reivers' face. He peered sharply at
+Toppy from beneath his overhanging brows, but Toppy was raking in the
+pot as casually as if such play with a pair of aces was part of his
+system.
+
+"Good work!" said Reivers, and gathered the cards to him with a jerk.
+
+Half a dozen hands later, on Reivers' deal, Toppy picked up his hand and
+saw four kings.
+
+"I'll pass," said he.
+
+"I open for five," said Reivers.
+
+"Take the money," laughed Toppy carelessly throwing his hand into the
+discard. For an instant Reivers' eyes searched him with a look of
+surprise. The glance was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had
+suspected was true.
+
+"So he's dealing 'em as he wants 'em!" thought Toppy. "All right. He's
+brought it on himself."
+
+An hour later Reivers arose from the table with a smile. The money had
+changed hands. Toppy was snapping his watch back on its chain, and
+stuffing the bills into his pocket.
+
+"Your money now, Treplin," laughed Reivers. "Until somebody takes it
+away from you."
+
+But there was a new note in his laughter. He had been beaten, and his
+irritation showed in his laughter and in the manner in which, after he
+had taken another big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway as he
+made to leave.
+
+"Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you have!" he said
+laughingly. "Too bad your luck ends there, isn't it? What's that
+paraphrase of the old saw? 'Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.' Good
+night, Treplin."
+
+He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he has a joke on the other
+fellow.
+
+"What did he mean by that?" asked Campbell, puzzled.
+
+"I don't know," said Toppy. But he knew now that Tilly had told Reivers
+of his talk with Miss Pearson the first evening in camp, and that
+Reivers had saved it up against him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV--THE WAY OF THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+
+In the morning, before the time for beginning the day's work, Toppy went
+to the stockade; and with one of his English-speaking Slavs acting an
+interpreter hunted up the Torta brothers and returned to them the stolen
+money which he had won from Reivers. He did not consider it necessary to
+go into the full details of how the money came to be in his possession,
+or attempt to explain the prejudice of his kind against keeping stolen
+goods.
+
+"Just tell them that Sheedy gave up the money, and that it's theirs
+again; and they'd better hide it in their shoes so they won't lose it,"
+he directed the interpreter.
+
+Whereat the latter, a garrulous young man who had been telling the camp
+all about the wonderful new "bahss" in the quarry--a "bahss" who saved
+men's lives--whenever he could get any one to listen, broke forth into a
+wonderful tale of how the money came to be returned, and of the
+wonderful "bahss" that stood before them, whom they should all take off
+their caps to and worship.
+
+For this was no ordinary man, this "bahss." No, he was far above all
+other men. It was an honour to work under him. For instance, as to this
+money: the "bahss" had heard how the red-haired one--Sheedy--had stolen,
+how he oppressed many poor men and broke the noses of those who dared to
+stand up against him.
+
+The "bahss" had the interests of poor men at heart. What had he done? He
+had struck the red-haired one such a mighty blow in the stomach that the
+red-haired one had flown high in the air, and alighting on the ground
+had been moved by the fear of death and disgorged the stolen money that
+his conscience might be easy.
+
+The story of how Toppy had propped up the roof of the stone quarry, and
+saved the limbs and possibly lives of his workmen; how he had driven the
+shotgun guard away, and how he had smitten Sheedy and laid him low
+before all men, had circulated through the camp by this time. Everybody
+knew that the new straw-boss, though fully as big and strong as the
+Snow-Burner himself, was a man who considered the men under him as
+something more than cattle and treated them accordingly. True, he drove
+men hard; but they went willingly for him, whereas under the Snow-Burner
+they hurried merely because of the chill fear that his eyes drove into
+their hearts. In short, Toppy was just such a boss as all men wished to
+work under--strong but just, firm but not inhuman.
+
+Even Sheedy was loyal to him.
+
+"He laid me out, all right," he grumbled to a group of "white men,"
+"but, give him credit for it, he give me a chanct to get up me guard.
+There won't be any breaking yer bones when yuh ain't lookin' from him.
+And he wouldn't graft on yuh, either. He's right. That other ----, he--he
+ain't human."
+
+The fact that he had been humane enough, and daring enough, to prop up
+the roof of the quarry had no effect on the "white men" toward
+developing a respect for Toppy. They despised the Slavs too thoroughly
+to be conscious of any brotherhood with them. But that he could put Bill
+Sheedy away with a single punch, that he could warn Bill to put up his
+guard and then knock him out with one blow, that was something to wring
+respect even from that hard-bitten crew.
+
+The Snow-Burner never had done anything like that. He had laid low the
+biggest men in camp, but it was usually with a kick or with a blow that
+was entirely unexpected. The Snow-Burner never warned any body. He
+smiled, threw them off their guard, then smote like a flash of
+lightning. He had whipped half a dozen men at once in a stand-up fight,
+but they had been poor Bohunks, fools who couldn't fight unless they had
+knives in their hands. But to tell a seasoned bruiser like Bill, the
+best man with his fists in camp, to put up his hands and then beat him
+to the knockout punch--that was something that not even the Snow-Burner
+had attempted to do.
+
+That was taking a chance, that was; and the Snow-Burner never took
+chances. That was why these cruel-fierce "white men," though they
+admired and applauded him for his dominance and his ruthlessness toward
+the Slavs, hated Reivers with a hatred that sprang from the Northern
+man's instinctive liking for fair play in a fight. They began naturally
+to compare him with Toppy, who had played fair and yet won. And,
+naturally, because such were the standards they lived and died by, they
+began to predict that some day the Snow-Burner and Toppy must fight, and
+they hoped that they might be there to see the battle.
+
+So Toppy, this morning, as he came to the stockade, was in the position
+of something of a hero to most of the rough men who slouched past him in
+the gloom to their day's work. He had felt it before, this hero-worship,
+and he recognised it again. Though the surroundings were vastly
+different and the men about him of a strange breeding, the sense of it
+was much the same as that he had known at school when, a sweater thrown
+across his huge shoulders, he had ploughed his way through the groups of
+worshipping undergrads on to the gridiron. It was much the same here.
+Men looked up to him. They nudged one another as they passed, lowered
+their voices when he was near, studied him appraisingly. Toppy had felt
+it before, too often to be mistaken; and the youth in his veins
+responded warmly. The respect of these men was a harder thing to win
+than the other. He thought of how he had arrived in camp, shaky from
+Harvey Duncombe's champagne, with no purpose in life, no standing among
+men who were doing men's work. Grimly also he thought of how Miss
+Pearson, that first evening, had called him a "nice boy." Would she call
+him that now, he wondered, if she could see how these rough, tired men
+looked up to him? Would Reivers treat him as a thing to experiment with
+after this?
+
+Thus it was a considerably elated Toppy, though not a big-headed one,
+who led his men out of the stockade, to the quarry--to the blow that
+Reivers had waiting for him there. His first hint that something was
+wrong was when the foremost men, whistling and tool-laden, made for the
+pit in the first grey light of day and paused with exclamations and
+curses at its very mouth. Others crowded around them. They looked
+within. Then, with fallen jaws, they turned and looked to the "bahss"
+for an explanation, for help.
+
+Toppy shouldered his way through the press and stepped inside. Then he
+saw what had halted his men and made their faces turn white. To the last
+stick the shoring-timbers had been removed from the pit, and the roof,
+threatening and sharp-edged, hung ready to drop on the workmen below, as
+it had before Toppy had wrought a change.
+
+The daylight came creeping up the river and a wind began to blow. So
+still was it there before the pit-mouth that Toppy was conscious of
+these things as he stepped outside. The men were standing about with
+their wheelbarrows and tools in their hands. They looked to him. His was
+the mind and will to determine what they should do. They depended upon
+him; they trusted him; they would obey his word confidently.
+
+Toppy felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He wanted to take
+off his cap, to bare his head to the chill morning wind, to draw his
+hand across his eyes, to do something to ease himself and gather his
+wits. He did none of these things. The instinct of leadership arose
+strong within him. He could not show these men who looked up to him as
+their unquestioned leader that he had been dealt a blow that had taken
+the mastery from him.
+
+For Toppy, in that agonised second when he glanced up at the unsupported
+roof and knew what those loose rocks meant to any men working beneath,
+realised that he could not drive his men in there to certain injury for
+many, possibly death for some. It wasn't in him. He wasn't bred that
+way. The unfeeling brute had been removed from his big body and spirit
+by generations of men and women who had played fair with inferiors, and
+by a lifetime of training and education.
+
+He understood plainly the significance of the thing. Reivers had done
+it; no one else would have dared. He had lifted Toppy up to a tiny
+elevation above the other men in camp; now he was knocking him down. It
+was another way for Reivers to show his mastery. The men who had begun
+to look up to Toppy would now see how easily the Snow-Burner could show
+himself his superior. Miss Pearson would hear of it. He would appear in
+the light of a "nice boy" whom the Snow-Burner had played with.
+
+These thoughts ran through Toppy's mind as he stood outside the pit,
+with his white-faced men looking up to him, and groped for a way out of
+his dilemma. Within he was sickened with the sense of a catastrophe;
+outside he remained calm and confident to the eye. He stepped farther
+out, to where he could see the end of the dam where he had secured the
+props for the roof. It was as he had expected; the big pile of timbers
+that had lain there was gone to the last stick. He turned slowly back,
+and then in the grey light of coming day he looked into the playfully
+smiling face of Reivers, who had emerged, it seemed, from nowhere.
+
+"Looking for your humanitarian props, Treplin?" laughed the Snow-Burner.
+"Oh, they're gone; they're valuable; they served a purpose which nothing
+else would fill--quite so conveniently. I used them for a corduroy road
+in the swamp. Between men and timbers, Treplin, always save your
+timbers." His manner changed like a flash to one hurried and
+business-like. "What're you waiting for?" he snarled. "Why don't you get
+'em in there? Mean to say you're wasting company money because one of
+these cattle might get a broken back?"
+
+They looked each other full in the eyes, but Toppy knew that for the
+time being Reivers had the whiphand.
+
+"I mean to say just that," he said evenly. "I'm not sending any men in
+there until I get that roof propped up again."
+
+"Bah!" Reivers' disgust was genuine. "I thought you were a man; I find
+you're a suit of clothes full of emotions, like all the rest!"
+
+He seemed to drive away his anger by sheer will-force and bring the
+cold, sneering smile back to his lips.
+
+"So we're up against a situation that's too strong for us, are we, Mr.
+Humanitarian?" he laughed. "In spite of our developed intelligence, we
+lay down cold in the face of a little proposition like this! Good-bye to
+our dreams of learning how to handle men! It isn't in us to do it; we're
+a weak sister."
+
+His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all his changes. Toppy and
+his aspirations as a leader--that was another incident of the day's work
+that was over and done with.
+
+"Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin," he said quietly. "You're not
+responsible for your limitations. Scotty says you make a pretty fair
+helper. Be consoled. He's waiting for you."
+
+He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with the hot blood rushing in
+his throat, but helpless as he was, swung away from the pit without a
+word. As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun guard had appeared
+and taken his position on the little rise where his gun bore slantwise
+on the huddled men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of sight of
+the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples throbbing with rage, but
+the cool section of his mind urged him away from the pit in silence.
+
+Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle. It was the ankle
+that made him accept without return the shame which Reivers had put upon
+him. The canny sense within him continued to whisper that until the
+ankle was sound he must bide his time. Reivers and he were too nearly a
+pair to give him the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance
+at even the slightest disadvantage.
+
+Choking back as well as he could the anger that welled up within him, he
+made his way swiftly to the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the
+anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy tread behind him.
+
+"The Snow-Burner promised he'd send you here, and----Losh, mon!" he gasped
+as he turned around and saw Toppy's face. "What's come o'er ye? You look
+like you're ripe for murder."
+
+"There'll probably be murder done in this camp before the day's over,
+but I won't do it," replied Toppy.
+
+As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting work he snapped out
+the story of the situation at the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his
+hammer, grew grim of lips and eyes as he listened.
+
+"Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you had ye lost at poker
+last night," he said slowly. "He's taking revenge. But they will put out
+his light for him. Human flesh and blood won't stand it. The Snow-Burner
+goes too far. He'll----Hark! Good Heavens! Hear that!"
+
+For a moment they stood near the open doorway of the shop staring at one
+another in horrified, mute questioning. The crisp stillness of the
+morning rang and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The sound came
+from the direction of the quarry. Across the street they heard the door
+of the office-building open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her
+light hair flying about her head, came running like a deer to the door
+of the shop.
+
+"Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!" she called tremblingly, peering inside.
+Then she saw Toppy.
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. She started back a little. There were surprise and
+relief in her exclamation, in her eyes, in her movement.
+
+"I was afraid--I thought maybe----" She drew away from the door in
+confusion. "I only wanted to know--to know--what that noise was."
+
+But Toppy had stepped outside the shop and followed closely after her.
+
+"What did you think it was, Miss Pearson?" he asked. "What were you
+afraid of when you heard that shot? That something had happened between
+Reivers and myself?"
+
+"I--I meant to warn you," she said, greatly flustered. "Tilly told me all
+about--a lot of things last night. She told me that she had told Reivers
+all she heard you say to me that first night here, and that he--Mr.
+Reivers, she said, was your enemy, and that he would--would surely hurt
+you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I didn't want to see you get hurt, because I felt it was because of me
+that you came here. I--I don't want any one hurt because of me."
+
+"That's all?" he asked.
+
+She looked surprised.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+Toppy nodded curtly.
+
+"Then Tilly told you that Mr. Reivers had a habit of hurting people?"
+
+At this the red in her cheeks rose to a flush. Her blue eyes looked at
+him waveringly, then dropped to the ground.
+
+"It isn't true! It can't be true!" she stammered.
+
+"Did Tilly tell you--about herself?" he persisted mercilessly.
+
+The next instant he wished the words unsaid, for she shrank as if he had
+struck her. She looked very small just then. Her proud, self-reliant
+bearing was gone. She was very much all alone.
+
+"Yes." The word was scarcely more than a whisper and she did not look
+up. "But it--it can not be so; I know it can not."
+
+Toppy was no student of feminine psychology, but he saw plainly that
+just then she was a woman who did not wish to believe, therefore would
+not believe, anything ill of the man who had fascinated her. He saw that
+Reivers had fascinated her; that in spite of herself she was drawn
+toward him, dominated by him. Her mind told her that what she had heard
+of the man was true, but her heart refused to let her believe. Toppy saw
+that she was very unhappy and troubled, and unselfishly he forgot
+himself and his enmity toward Reivers in a desire to help her.
+
+"Miss Pearson!--Miss Pearson!" he cried eagerly. "Is there anything I can
+do for you--anything in the world?"
+
+"Yes," she said slowly. "Tell me that it isn't so--what Mr. Campbell and
+Tilly have said about Mr. Reivers."
+
+"I----" He was about to say that he could do nothing of the sort, but
+something made him halt. "Has Reivers broken his word to you--about
+leaving you alone?"
+
+"No, no! He's--he's left me alone. He's scarcely spoken to me half a
+dozen times."
+
+Toppy looked down at her for several seconds.
+
+"But you've begun to care for Reivers, haven't you?" he said.
+
+The girl looked up at him uncertainly.
+
+"I don't know. Oh, I don't know! I don't seem to have any will of my own
+toward him. I seem to see him as a different man. I know I shouldn't;
+but I can't help it, I can help it! He--he looks at me, and I feel as
+if--as if--" her voice died down to a horrified whisper--"I were nothing,
+and his wishes were the only things in the world."
+
+Toppy bowed his head.
+
+"Then I guess there's nothing for me to say."
+
+"Don't!" she cried, stretching out her hand to restrain him as he turned
+away. "Don't leave me--like that. You're so rude to me lately. I feel so
+terribly alone when you--aren't nice to me."
+
+"What difference can I make?" he said bitterly. "I'm not Reivers."
+
+She looked up at him again.
+
+"Oh!" she cried suddenly. "Won't you help me, Mr. Treplin? Can't you
+help me?"
+
+"Help you?" gasped Toppy. "May I? Can I? What can I do?"
+
+He leaned toward her eagerly.
+
+"What can I do" he repeated.
+
+"Oh, I don't know!" she murmured in anguish. "But if you--if you leave
+me--Oh! What was that?"
+
+From the direction of the quarry had come a great scream of terror, as
+if many men suddenly had cried out in fear of their lives. Then, almost
+ere the echoes had died away, came another sound, of more sinister
+significance to Toppy. There was a sudden low rumble; the earth under
+their feet trembled; then the noise of a crash and a thud. Then it was
+still again.
+
+A chill seemed to pass over the entire camp. Men began running toward
+the quarry with swift steps, their faces showing that they dreaded what
+they expected to see. Toppy and Campbell looked silently at one another.
+
+"Go into the office," he said quietly to the girl. "Come on, Scotty;
+that roof's caved in." And without another word they ran swiftly toward
+the quarry. As they reached the river-bank they heard Reivers' voice
+quietly issuing orders.
+
+"You guards pick those two fellows up and carry them to their bunks. You
+scum that's left, pick up your tools and dig into that fallen rock.
+Hustle now! Get right back to work!"
+
+The first thing that Toppy saw as he turned the shoulder of the ledge
+was that two of the older Slavs were lying groaning on the ground to one
+side of where the pit mouth had been. Then he saw what was left of the
+pit. The entire side of the ledge had caved down, and where the pit had
+been was only a jumbled pile of jagged rock. Reivers stood in his old
+position before the pile. The hawk-nosed shotgun guard stood up on the
+little rise, his weapon ready. The remaining workmen were huddled
+together before the pile of fallen stone. The terror in their faces was
+unspeakable. They were like lost, driven cattle facing the butcher's
+hammer.
+
+"Grab those tools there! Get at it! The rock's right in front of you
+now! Get busy!"
+
+Reivers' voice in no way admitted that anything startling had occurred.
+He glared at the cowering men, and in terror they began hastily to
+resume their interrupted work, filling their wheelbarrows from the pile
+of stone before them. Reivers turned toward Toppy who had bent over the
+injured men. "Hello, Dr. Treplin," he laughed lightly. "A couple of jobs
+there for you to experiment on. Get 'em out of here--to their bunks;
+they're in the way. Patch 'em up if you can. If you can't they're not
+much loss, anyhow. They're rather older than I like 'em."
+
+The last words came carelessly over his shoulder as he turned back
+toward the men who were toiling at the rock. A string of curses rolled
+coldly from his lips. They leaped to obey him. He smiled contemptuously.
+
+Toppy was relieved to see that the two men on the ground were apparently
+not fatally hurt. With the aid of Campbell and two guards who had run up
+he hurried to have the men placed in their bunks in the stockade. One of
+the guards produced a surgeon's kit. Toppy rolled up his sleeves. It
+wasn't as bad as he had feared it would be, apparently; only two
+injured, where he had looked for some surely to be killed. One of the
+men was growing faint from loss of blood from a wound in his right leg.
+Toppy, turning his attention to him first, swiftly slit open the
+trousers-leg and bared the injured limb.
+
+"What--what the devil?" he cried aghast. The calf of the man's leg was
+half torn away, and from knee to ankle the flesh was sprinkled with
+buckshot-holes.
+
+"They shot you?" he asked as he fashioned a tourniquet.
+
+"Yes, bahass. Snow-Burner say, 'Get t' 'ell in there.' Rocks fall; we no
+go in. Snow-Burner hold up hand. Man with gun shoot. I fall. Other men
+go in. Pretty soon rocks fall. Other men come out. He shoot me. I no do
+anything; he shoot me."
+
+Toppy choked back the curse that rose to his lips, dressed the man's
+wound to the best of his slight ability, and turned to the other, who
+had been caught in the cave-in of the quarry-roof. His right leg and arm
+were broken, and the side was crushed in a way that suggested broken
+ribs. Toppy filled a hypodermic syringe and went to work to make the two
+as comfortable as he knew how. That was all he could pretend to do. Yet
+when he left the stockade it was with a feeling of relief that he looked
+back over the morning. The worst had happened; the danger to the men was
+over; and, so far as Toppy knew, the consequences were represented in
+the two men whom he had treated and who, so far as he could see, were
+sure to live. It hadn't turned out as badly as he was afraid it would.
+
+As he passed the carpenter-shop he saw the "wood-butcher" sawing two
+boards to make a cover for a long, narrow box. Toppy looked at him idly,
+trying to think of what such a box could be used for around the camp. It
+was too narrow for its length to be of ordinary use as a box.
+
+"What are you making there?" asked Toppy carelessly.
+
+The "wood-butcher" looked up from his sawing.
+
+"Didn't you ever see a logging-camp coffin?" he asked. "We always keep a
+few ready. This one is for that Bohunk that's down there under the
+rocks."
+
+"Under the rocks!" cried Toppy. "You don't mean to say there was anybody
+under that cave-in!"
+
+"Is yet," was the laconic reply. "One of 'em was caught 'way inside.
+Whole roof on top of him. Won't find him till the pit's emptied."
+
+Toppy struggled a moment to speak quietly.
+
+"Which one was it, do you know?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, it was that old brown-complected fellow," said the carpenter. "That
+old Bohunk guy with the big rings in his ears."
+
+Reivers came to the shop at his customary time in the evening, nothing
+in his manner containing a hint that anything unusual had happened
+during the day. He found a solemn and silent pair, for Campbell had
+sought relief from the day's tragedy in his customary manner and sat in
+the light of the student-lamp steadily reading his Bible, while Toppy,
+in a dark corner, sat with his great shoulders hunched forward, his
+folded hands before him, and stared at the floor. Reivers paused in the
+doorway, his cold smile broadening as he surveyed the pair.
+
+"Poker to-night--doctor?" he said softly, and the slur in his tones was
+like blasphemy toward all that men hold sacred.
+
+"No, by ----, no!" growled Toppy.
+
+Laughing lightly, Reivers closed the door and came across the room.
+
+"What? Aren't you going to give me my revenge--doctor?" The manner in
+which he accented "doctor" was worse than an open insult.
+
+Old Campbell peered over his thick glasses.
+
+"The sword of judgment is sharpening for you, Mr. Reivers," he said
+solemnly. "You ha' this day sealed your own doom. A life for a life; and
+you have taken a life to-day unnecessarily. It is the holy law; you will
+pay. It is so written."
+
+"Yes, yes, yes!" laughed Reivers in great amusement. "But you've said
+that so many times before in just that same way, Scotty. Can't you
+evolve a new idea? Or at least sing it in a different key?"
+
+The old Scot looked at him without wavering or changing his expression.
+
+"You are the smartest man I have ever known, Mr. Reivers, and the
+domdest fool," he said in the same tone. "Do you fancy yourself more
+than mortal? Losh, man! A knife in the bowels, or a bullet or ax in the
+head will as readily make you a bit of poor clay as you've this day made
+yon poor old Bohunk."
+
+Reivers listened courteously to the end, waiting even a moment to be
+sure that Campbell had had his say.
+
+"And you--doctor?" he said turning to Toppy. "What melancholy thoughts
+have you to utter?"
+
+Toppy said nothing.
+
+"Oh, come, Treplin!" said Reivers lightly. "Surely you're not letting a
+little thing like that quarry-incident give you a bad evening? Where's
+your philosophy, man? Consider the thing intelligently instead of
+sentimentally. There was so much rock to go into that dam in a day--and
+incidentally to-day finished the job. That was a useful, necessary work.
+
+"For that old man to continue in this life was not useful or necessary.
+He was far down in the order of human development; centuries below you
+and me. Do you think it made the slightest difference whether he
+returned to the old cosmic mud whence he came, and from which he had not
+come far, in to-day's little cave-in, or in a dirty bed, say ten years
+from now?
+
+"He accomplished a tiny speck of useful work, through my direction. He
+has gone, as the wood will soon be gone that is heating that stove.
+There was no spirit there; only a body that has ceased to stand upright.
+And you grow moody over it! Well, well! I'm more and more disappointed
+in you--doctor."
+
+Toppy said nothing. He was biding his time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI--THE SCREWS TIGHTEN
+
+
+That night came the heavy snow for which the loggers had been waiting,
+and a rush of activity followed in Hell Camp. The logs which had lain in
+the woods for want of sleighing now were accessible. Following the snow
+came hard, freezing nights, and the main ice-roads which Reivers had
+driven into the timber for miles became solid beds of ice over which a
+team could haul log loads to the extent of a carload weight. It was
+ideal logging-weather, and the big camp began to hum.
+
+The mastery of Reivers once more showed itself in the way in which he
+drove his great crew at top speed and beyond. The feeling against him on
+the part of the men had risen to silent, tight-lipped heat as the news
+went around of how the old Magyar with the ear-rings had met his death.
+Each man in camp knew that he might have been in the old man's shoes;
+each knew that Reivers' anger might fall on him next. In the total of a
+hundred and fifty men in camp there was probably not one who did not
+curse Reivers and rage against his rule, and there were few who, if the
+opportunity had offered, would not cheerfully have taken his life.
+
+The feeling against him had unified itself. Before, the men had been
+split into various groups on the subject of the boss. They remained
+divided now, but on one thing they were unanimous: the Snow-Burner had
+gone too far to bear. Men sat on the bunk-edges in the stockade and
+cursed as they thought of the boss and the shotgun guards that rendered
+them helpless. Reivers permitted no firearms of any kind in camp save
+those that were carried by his gunmen.
+
+The gunmen when not on guard kept to their quarters, in the building
+just outside of the stockade gate, where Reivers also lived. When armed,
+they were ordered to permit no man to approach nearer than ten feet to
+them--this to prevent a possible rushing and wresting the weapons from
+their hands. So long as the guards were there in possession of their
+shotguns the men knew that they were helpless. Driven to desperation
+now, they prayed for the chance to get those guns into their own hands.
+After that they promised themselves that the score of brutality would be
+made even.
+
+Then came the time for rush work, and under the lash of Reivers' will
+the outraged men, carried off their feet, were driven with a ferocity
+that told how completely Reivers ignored the spirit of revolt which he
+knew was fomenting against him. He quit playing with them, as he
+expressed it; he began to drive.
+
+Long before daylight began to grey the sky above the eastern timber-line
+the men were out at their posts, waiting for sufficient light to begin
+the day's work. Once the work began it went ahead with a fury that
+seemed to carry all men with it. Reivers was everywhere that a man dared
+to pause for a moment to shirk his job. He used his hands now, for a
+broken leg or rib laid a man up, and he had use for the present for
+every man he could muster. He scarcely looked at the men he hit,
+breaking their faces with a sudden, treacherous blow, cursing them
+coldly until, despite their injuries, they leaped at their work, then
+whirling away to fall upon some other luckless one elsewhere.
+
+He was a fury, a merciless elemental force, with no consideration for
+the strength and endurance of men; sparing no one any more than he
+spared himself, and rushing his whole force along at top speed by sheer
+power of the spirit of leadership that possessed him. Men ceased for the
+time being to growl and pray that the Snow-Burner would get his just
+due. They had no thought nor energies for anything but keeping pace in
+the whirlwind rush of work through which the Snow-Burner drove them.
+
+In the blacksmith-shop the same condition prevailed as elsewhere in the
+camp. The extra hurry of the work in the timber meant extra accidents,
+which meant breakages. There were chain-links to be forged and fitted to
+broken chains; sharp two-inch calks to be driven into the horses' shoes,
+peaveys and cant-hooks to be repaired. Besides the regular
+blacksmith-work of the camp, which was quite sufficient to keep Campbell
+and one helper comfortably employed, there was now added each day a bulk
+of extra work due to the strain under which men, horses and tools were
+working.
+
+Old Campbell, grimly resolute that Reivers should have no excuse to fall
+foul of him, drove himself and his helper at a speed second only to that
+with which he had so roughly greeted Toppy to the rough world of bodily
+labour. But the Toppy who now hammered and toiled at Campbell's side was
+a different man from the champagne-softened youth who had come into camp
+a little while before. The puffiness was gone from under his eyes, the
+looseness from his lips and the fat from around the middle. Through his
+veins the blood now surged with no taint of cumbering poison; his
+tissues tingled with life and healthiness.
+
+Day by day he did his share and more in the shop-work, and instead of
+the old feeling of fatigue, which before had followed any prolonged
+exertion, felt his muscles spring with hardness and new life at each
+demand made upon them. The old joy of a strong man in his strength came
+back in him. Stripped to the waist he stretched himself and filled his
+great lungs with deep drafts, his arms like beams stretched out and
+above his head. Under the clean skin, rosy and moist from exertion, the
+muscles bunched and relaxed, tautened instantly to iron hardness or
+rippled softly as they were called upon, in the perfect co-ordination
+which results in great athletes. Old Campbell, similarly stripped,
+stared at the marvel of a giant's perfect torso, beside which his own
+work-wrought body was ugly in its unequal development.
+
+"Losh, man! But you're full grown!" he growled in admiration. "I've seen
+but one man who could strip anywhere near to you."
+
+"Who was he?" asked Toppy.
+
+"The Snow-Burner."
+
+Day by day Toppy hammered and laboured at Campbell's side, holding his
+end up against the grim old smith, and day by day he felt his muscles
+growing toward that iron condition in which there is no tiring.
+Presently, to Scotty's vexation, he was doing more than his share,
+ending the day with a laugh and waking up in the morning as fresh as if
+he had not taxed his energies the day before.
+
+At first he continued to favour his injured ankle, lest a sudden strain
+delay its recovery. Each night he massaged and bandaged it
+scientifically. Later on, when he felt that it was stronger, he began to
+exercise it, slowly raising and lowering himself on the balls of his
+feet. In a couple of weeks the old spring and strength had largely come
+back, and Campbell snorted in disgust at the antics indulged in by his
+helper when the day's work was done.
+
+"Skipping a rope one, twa hundred times! What brand o' silliness do ye
+call that?" he grumbled. "Ha' ye nothing useful to do wi' them long legs
+of yourn, that you have to make a jumping-jack out o' yourself?"
+
+At which Toppy smiled grimly and continued his training.
+
+The rush of work had its compensations. Reivers, driving his force like
+mad, had no time to waste either in bantering Toppy and Campbell in the
+evening or in paying attention to Miss Pearson. All the power that was
+in the Snow-Burner was concentrated upon the problem of getting out
+every stick of timber possible while the favourable weather continued.
+He spent most of his time in the timber up-river where the heaviest
+logging was going on.
+
+By day he raged in the thick of the men with only one thought or aim--to
+get out the logs as fast as human and horse-power could do it. At night
+the road-crews, repairing with pick and shovel and sprinkling-tanks the
+wear and tear of the day's hauling, worked under Reivers' compelling
+eyes. All night long the sprinkling-tanks went up and down the
+ice-coated roads, and the drivers, freezing on the seats, were afraid to
+stop or nod, not knowing when the Snow-Burner might step out from the
+shadows and catch them in the act.
+
+The number of accidents, always too plentiful in logging-camps,
+multiplied, but Reivers permitted nothing short of broken bones to send
+a man to his bunk. Toppy, besides his work in the shop, cared as best he
+could for the disabled. Reivers had no time to waste that way now. The
+two men hurt at the quarry were recovering rapidly. One day a tall, lean
+"white man," a Yankee top-loader, came hobbling out of the woods with
+his foot dangling at the ankle, and mumbling curses through a smashed
+jaw.
+
+"How did you get this?" asked Toppy, as he dressed the cruelly crushed
+foot.
+
+"Pinched between two logs," mumbled the man. "They let one come down the
+skids when I wasn't lookin'. No fault of mine; I didn't have time to
+jump. And then, when I'm standin' there leanin' against a tree, that
+devil Reivers comes up and hands me this." He pointed to his cracked
+jaw. "He'll teach me to get myself hurt, he says. ----! That ain't no man;
+he's a devil! By ----! I know what I'd ruther have than the wages comin'
+to me, and that's a rifle with one good cattridge in it and that ----
+standin' afore me."
+
+Yet that evening, when Reivers came to the top-loader's bunk and
+demanded how long he expected to lie there eating his head off, the man
+cringed and whimpered that he would be back on the job as soon as his
+foot was fit to stand on. In Reivers' presence the men were afraid to
+call their thoughts their own, but behind his back the mumblings and
+grumblings of hatred were growing to a volume which inevitably soon must
+break out in the hell-yelp of a mob ripe for murder.
+
+Reivers knew it better than any man in camp. To indicate how it affected
+him he turned the screws on tighter than ever. Once, at least, "they had
+him dead," as they admitted, when he stood ankle-deep in the river with
+the saw-logs thundering over the rollways to the brink of the bluff
+above his head. One cunning twist of a peavey would have sent a dozen
+logs tumbling over the brink on his head. Reivers sensed his danger and
+looked up. He smiled. Then he turned and deliberately stood with his
+back to the men. And no man dared to give his peavey that one cunning
+twist.
+
+During these strenuous days Toppy tried in vain to muster up sufficient
+courage to reopen the conversation with Miss Pearson which had been so
+suddenly interrupted by the cave-in at the quarry. He saw her every day.
+She had changed greatly from the high-spirited, self-reliant girl who
+had stood on the steps of the hotel back at Rail Head and told the whole
+world by her manner that she was accustomed and able to take care of
+herself. A stronger will than hers had entered her scheme of life.
+
+Although she knew now that Reivers had tricked her into coming to Hell
+Camp because he was confident of winning her, the knowledge made no
+difference. The will of the man dominated and fascinated her. She feared
+him, yet she was drawn toward him despite her struggles. She fought hard
+against the inclination to yield to the stronger will, to let her
+feelings make her his willing slave, as she knew he wished. The pain of
+the struggle shone in her eyes. Her cheeks lost their bloom; there were
+lines about the little mouth.
+
+Toppy saw it, but an unwonted shyness had come upon him. He could no
+longer speak to her with the frank friendliness of their previous
+conversations. Something which he could not place had, he felt, set them
+apart.
+
+Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the fascinations which Reivers had
+for her. Reivers was his enemy. They had been enemies from the moment
+when they first had measured each other eye to eye. He felt that he had
+one aim in life now, and one only; that was to prove to himself and to
+Reivers that Reivers was not his master.
+
+Beyond that he had no plans. He knew that this meant a grapple which
+must end with one of them broken and helpless. The unfortunate one might
+be himself. In that case there would be no need to think of the future,
+and it would be just as well not to have spoken any more with the girl.
+
+It might be Reivers. Then he would be guilty in her eyes of having
+injured the man for whom the girl now obviously had feelings which Toppy
+could construe in but one way. She cared for Reivers, in spite of
+herself; and she would not be inclined to friendliness toward the man
+who had conquered him, if conquered he should be.
+
+The more Toppy thought it over the less enviable, to his notion, became
+his standing with the girl. He ended by resolutely determining to put
+her out of his thoughts. After all, he was no girl's man. He had no
+business trying to be. For the present he saw one task laid out before
+him as inevitable as a revealed fate--to prove himself with Reivers, to
+get to grips with the cold-blooded master-man who had made him feel,
+with every man in camp, that the place veritably was a Hell Camp.
+
+Reivers' brutal dominance lay like a tangible weight upon Toppy's
+spirit. He longed for only one thing--for the opportunity to stand up eye
+to eye with him and learn who was the better man. Beyond that he did not
+see, nor care. He had given up any thought that the girl might ever care
+for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII--TILLY'S WARNING
+
+
+November passed, and the first half of December. The shortest days of
+the year were approaching, and still the cold, crisp weather, ideal for
+logging, continued without a break. Hell Camp continued to hum with its
+abnormal activity. A thaw which would spoil the sleighing and ice-roads
+for the time being was long over-due. With the coming of the thaw would
+come a temporary lull in the work of the camp.
+
+The men prayed for the thaw; Reivers asked that the cold weather
+continue. It had continued now longer than he had expected or hoped, and
+the output of the camp already was double that of what would have been
+successful logging at that season. But Reivers was not satisfied. The
+record that he was setting served only to spur his ambition to
+desperation.
+
+The longer the cold spell hung on the harder he drove. Each day, as he
+looked at the low, grey sky and saw that there were no signs of a
+break-up, he turned to and set the pace a little faster than the day
+before. The madness of achievement, the passion to use his powers to
+accomplish the impossible, the characteristics which had won him the
+name of Snow-Burner, were in possession. He was doing the impossible; he
+was accomplishing what no other man could do, what all men said was
+impossible; and the feat only created a hunger to do more.
+
+The men were past grumbling now, too tired of body and too crushed of
+mind to give expression to their feelings. So long as the rush of work
+continued they were as harmless as harnessed and driven cattle,
+incapable of anything more than keeping step in the mad march that the
+Snow-Burner was leading. But all men knew that with the coming of a thaw
+and the cessation of work would come an explosion of the murderous
+hatred which Reivers' tactics had driven into the hearts of the men. Now
+and then a man, driven to a state of desperation which excluded the
+possibility of fear, stopped and rebelled. One day a young swamper, a
+gangling lad of twenty, raging and weeping, threw himself upon Reivers
+like a cat upon a bear. Reivers, with a laugh, thrust him off and kicked
+him out of the way. Another time a huge Slav sprang at him with his
+razor-edged ax up-raised, and, quailing before Reivers' calm look,
+hurled the ax away with a scream and ran blindly away into the trackless
+woods. Three days later, starving and with frozen hands and feet, he
+came stumbling up to the stockade and fell in a lump.
+
+"Feed him up," ordered Reivers, smiling. "I've got a little use for him
+when he's fixed up so he can feel. You see, Treplin," he continued to
+Toppy, who had been called to bring the man back to life, "I'm not all
+cruelty. When I want to save a man to amuse myself with I'm almost as
+much of a humanitarian as you are."
+
+He hurried on his way, but before he was out of hearing he flung back----
+
+"You remember how carefully I had Tilly nurse you, don't you--doctor?"
+
+It was only the guards that Reivers did not make enemies of. He knew
+that he had need of their loyalty. At night the "white men" sat on the
+edges of their bunks and tried to concoct feasible schemes for securing
+possession of the shotguns of the guards.
+
+On the morning of the shortest day of the year Toppy heard a scratching
+sound at the window near his bunk and sprang up. It was still pitch
+dark, long before any one should be stirring around camp save the cook
+and cookees.
+
+"Who's there?" demanded Toppy.
+
+"Me. Want talk um with you," came the low response from without. "You no
+come out. No make noise. Hear through window. You can hear um when I
+talk huh?"
+
+"Tilly!" gasped Toppy. "What's up?"
+
+"You hear um what I talk?" asked the squaw again.
+
+"Yes, yes; I can hear you. What is it?"
+
+"You like um li'l Miss Pearson, huh?" said Tilly bluntly.
+
+"What?" Toppy's heart was pounding with sudden excitement. "What--what's
+up, Tilly? There hasn't anything happened to Miss Pearson, has there?"
+
+"Uh! You like um Miss Pearson? Tell um Tilly straight or Tilly go 'way
+and no talk um more with you. You like her? Huh?"
+
+"Yes," said Toppy breathlessly, after a long pause. "Yes, I like her.
+What is it?"
+
+"You no like see um Miss Pearson get hurt?"
+
+"No, no; of course not. Who's going to hurt her?"
+
+"Snow-Burner," said Tilly. "Tilly tell you this before she go 'way.
+Tilly going 'way now. Tilly going 'way far off to father's tepee.
+Snow-Burner tell um me go. Snow-Burner tell um me go last night.
+Snow-Burner say he no want Tilly stay in camp longer. Tilly know why
+Snow-Burner no want her stay in camp. Snow-Burner through with Tilly.
+Snow-Burner now want um Miss Pearson. So."
+
+"Tilly! Hold on!" She had already turned away, but she halted at his
+voice and came close to the window. "What is this? Are you going away at
+once--because the Snow-Burner says so?"
+
+The squaw nodded, stoically submissive.
+
+"Snow-Burner say 'go'; Tilly go," she said. "Snow-Burner say go before
+any one see um me this morning. I go now. Must go; Snow-Burner say so."
+
+"And Miss Pearson?" whispered Toppy frantically. "Did he say anything
+about her?"
+
+Tilly nodded heavily.
+
+"Tell um me long 'go. Tell um me before Miss Pearson come. Tell um me he
+going marry Miss Pearson for um Christmas present. Christmas Day come
+soon now. Snow-Burner no want Tilly here then. Send Tilly 'way."
+
+The breath seemed to leave Toppy's body for an instant. He swayed and
+caught at the window-frame.
+
+"Marry her--Christmas Day?" he whispered, horrified.
+
+"Yes. He no tell um Miss Pearson yet. He tell me no tell um her, no tell
+um anybody. I tell you. Now go."
+
+Before Toppy had sufficiently recovered his wits to speak again he heard
+the crunch of her moccasins on the snow dying away in the darkness as
+the cast-off squaw stolidly started on her journey into the woods.
+
+"Tilly!" called Toppy desperately, but there was no answer.
+
+"What's matter?" murmured Campbell, disturbed in his deep slumber, and
+falling to sleep again before he received a reply.
+
+Toppy stood for a long time with his face held close to the window
+through which he had heard Tilly's startling news. The shock had numbed
+him. Although he had been prepared to expect anything of Reivers, he now
+realised that this was something more than he had thought possible even
+from him. The Snow-Burner--marry Miss Pearson--for a Christmas
+present--Christmas Day! He seemed to hear Tilly repeating the words over
+and over again. And Reivers had not even so much as told Miss Pearson of
+what he intended to do. He had not even told her that he intended to
+marry her. So Tilly said, and Tilly knew. What did Reivers intend to do
+then? How did he know he was going to marry her? How did he know she
+would have him?
+
+Toppy shivered a little as his wits began to work more clearly, and the
+full significance of the situation began to grow clear to him. He
+understood now. Reivers had good reason for making his plans so
+confidently. He had studied the girl until he had seen that his will had
+dominated hers; that though she might not love him, might even fear him,
+she had not the will-power against him to say nay to his wishes.
+
+He knew that she was helplessly fascinated, that she was his for the
+taking. He had been too busy to take her until now; the serious duties
+of his position had allowed no time for dalliance. So the girl had been
+safe and unmolested--until now! And now Reivers was secretly preparing to
+make her his own!
+
+A sudden thought struck Toppy, and he tiptoed to the door and looked
+out. Instead of the crisp coldness of recent mornings there was a warm
+mugginess in the air; and Toppy, bending down, placed his hand on the
+snow and felt that it had begun to soften. The thaw had come.
+
+"I thought so," he said to himself. "The work will break up now, and
+he's going to amuse himself. Well, he made a mistake when he told Tilly.
+She's been civilised just enough to make her capable of jealousy."
+
+He went back to his bunk and dressed.
+
+"What are you stirring around so early for?" grumbled Campbell. "Dinna
+ye get work enough during the day, to be getting up in the dark?"
+
+"The thaw's come," said Toppy, throwing on his cap. "There'll be
+something doing besides work now."
+
+He went out into the dark morning, crossed the road and softly tried the
+door to the office. He felt much better when he had assured himself that
+the door was securely locked on the inside. Then he returned to the shop
+and waited for the daylight to appear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII--"CANNY BY NATURE"
+
+
+Old Campbell arose at his usual time, surprised and pleased to find that
+Toppy had breakfast already cooked and on the table. Being a canny Scot,
+he did not express his surprise or pleasure, but proceeded to look about
+for signs to indicate the reason of Toppy's unwonted conduct. All that
+he could make out was that Toppy's eyes were bright with some sort of
+excitement, and that the grim set of his mouth had given way to an
+expression of relief. So the Scot sat down to eat, shaking his grey head
+in puzzled fashion.
+
+"I dinna see that this thaw should be any reason for your parading
+around before the night's done," he grumbled. "Were you so tired of a
+little useful work that ye maun greet a let-down with such early
+rising?"
+
+Toppy sat down and proceeded to breakfast without venturing a reply.
+When they had finished the meal he pushed back his chair and looked
+across at Campbell. Huge and careless, he sprawled in his chair, the
+tension and uncertainty gone now that he had made his resolution; and
+Campbell, studying his face, sensed that something was up and leaned
+forward eagerly.
+
+"I want to lay off to-day, Scotty," said Toppy deliberately. "I've got a
+little business that I want to settle with Reivers."
+
+Old Campbell did not start nor in any way indicate surprise.
+
+"Aye!" he said quietly after a pause. "I ha' seen from the first it
+would have to be that in the end. Ye maun settle which is best man. But
+why to-day?"
+
+"Because now that the thaw has spoiled the sleighing Reivers will have
+time for deviltry." And Toppy went on and told all that he had heard
+from Tilly's lips that morning. Campbell shook his head angrily as he
+heard.
+
+"Many things has the Snow-Burner done ill," he said, "and his sins
+against men and women cry for punishment; but that--to yon little
+lass--gi'n he did that, that would be worst of all. What are your plans,
+lad?"
+
+"Nothing," said Toppy. "I will go and find him, and we'll have it out."
+
+"Not so," said Campbell swiftly. "Gi'n you did that 'twould cost you
+your life did you chance to win o'er him. Do you think those devils with
+the guns would not murder to win favour of the Snow-Burner, him holding
+the lives and liberty of all of them in his hands as he does? Nay, lad!
+Fight ye must; you're both too big and spirited to meet without coming
+to grips; but you have aye the need of an old head on your side if
+you're to stand up with Reivers on even terms.
+
+"What think you he would fancy, did you go to him with a confident bold
+challenge as you suggest? That you had a trick up your sleeve, with the
+men in on it, perhaps; and he'd have the guards there with their guns to
+see he won as sure as we're sitting here talking. No; I ha' seen for
+weeks 'twas coming on, and I ha' been using this auld head o' mine. I
+may even say I ha' been doing more than thinking; I ha' been talking. I
+have told Reivers that you were becoming unbearable in this shop, and
+that I could not stand you much longer as my helper."
+
+Toppy looked across the table, amazed and pained.
+
+"Why--what's wrong, Scotty?" he stammered.
+
+"Tush, lad!" snapped the old man. "Dinna think I meant it. I only told
+Reivers so for the effect."
+
+Toppy was bewildered.
+
+"I don't see what you're driving at, Scotty."
+
+"Listen, then; I ha' told Reivers that you were getting the swell head
+so bad there was no working you. I ha' told him you were at heart
+nothing but a fresh young whiffet who needed taming, and gi'n he made me
+keep you here I mysel' would do the taming with an ax-handle. Do you
+begin to get my drift now, lad?"
+
+"I confess I don't," admitted Toppy.
+
+"Well, then--Reivers said: 'That's how I sized him up, too. But don't you
+do the taming, Campbell,' says he. 'I am saving him for mysel',' he
+says. 'But I will not put up with his lip longer,' said I. 'Man,
+Reivers,' I says, 'he thinks he's a fighter, and the other day I slammed
+him on his back mysel'; and gi'n I had my old wind,' I says, 'I would
+have whipped him then and there.'
+
+"Oh, carried on strong, losing my temper and all. 'Five year ago I would
+ha' broken his back, the big young fool!' I says. 'An' he swaggers
+around me and thinks he's a boss man because he licked that bloat
+Sheedy. Ah!' I says. 'I'll stand it till he gives me lip again; then
+I'll lay him out with whatever I have in my hands,' says I.
+
+"'Don't do it,' says Reivers, smiling to see me so worked up, and
+surmising, as I intended he should, that I was angry only because I'd
+discovered that you were a better man than mysel'. 'Save him for me,'
+says he. 'As soon as I have more time I will 'tend to him. In the
+meantime,' he says, 'let him go on thinking he is a good man.'
+
+"Lad, he swallowed it all, for it's four years since he knew me first,
+and that was the first lie I'd told him at all. 'I'll take him under my
+eye soon as I have more time,' says he. 'He'll not swagger after I've
+tamed him a little.'"
+
+"But I don't just see----"
+
+"Dolt! Dinna you see that noo he considers you as an overconfident young
+fool whom he's going to take the conceit out of? Dinna ye see that noo
+you're in the same category as the other men he's broken down? He'll not
+think it worth while to have his shotgun men handy noo when he starts in
+to do his breaking. He'll start it, ye understand; not you. 'Twill be
+proper so. I will go this morning and tell him that the end has come;
+that I can not stand you longer around me. He'll give you something to
+do--under him. Under him, do you see? Then you must e'en watch your
+chance, and--and happen I'll manage to be around in case the guards
+should show up."
+
+"Better keep out of it altogether," said Toppy. "They won't use their
+guns in an even fight, and you couldn't do anything with your bare hands
+if they did."
+
+"With my bare hands, no," said Campbell, going to his bunk. "But I am
+not so bare-handed as you think, lad." He dug under the blankets and
+held up a huge black revolver. "Canny by nature!" he said; thrusting the
+grim weapon under his trousers-band. "I made no idle threat when I told
+Reivers I would shoot his head off did he ever try to make a broken man
+out of me. I have had this utensil handy ever since."
+
+"Scotty," cried Toppy, deeply moved at the old man's staunch friendship,
+"when did you begin to plan this scheme?"
+
+Campbell looked squarely into his eyes.
+
+"The same day that I talked with yon lassie and learned how Reivers had
+fascinated her."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Dinna ye know nothing about women, lad?"
+
+"I----What do you mean?"
+
+"Do you fancy Reivers could carry his will so strong with folks gi'n ye
+happen to make a beaten man out of him? And do you not think yon lass
+would come back to her right mind gi'n the Snow-Burner loses his power
+o'er her? You're no' so blind as not to see she's no liking for him, but
+the de'il has in a way mesmerised her."
+
+"Then you mean----"
+
+"That when you and the Snow-Burner put up your mitts ye'll be fighting
+for more than just to see who's best man. Now think that over, lad,
+while I go and complain to Reivers that I can not stand you an hour
+longer, and arrange for him to give you your taming."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX--THE FIGHT
+
+
+It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the air had fled before the
+unclouded sun, and the day was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight
+coming in through the eastern window flooded the room. Outside could be
+heard the steady drip-drip from the melting icicles, and the chirp of
+the chickadees industriously seeking a breakfast around the door made
+the morning cheery.
+
+Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell had gone on his
+errand, and looked out of the open door, and waited. From where he sat
+he could see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss Pearson
+come out, stand for a moment in the doorway peering around in puzzled
+fashion, and go in again.
+
+Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified--that the girl was
+puzzled and perhaps frightened over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but
+he had no impulse to cross the street and break the news to her. The
+girl, Tilly's absence, such things were to him only incidentals now. He
+saw the girl as if far away, as if she were something that did not
+greatly concern him.
+
+Through his mind there ran recollections of other moments like
+this--moments of waiting in the training-quarters back at school for the
+word of the coach to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit
+after the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking of all
+worry and nervousness in the knowledge that now that the test was on he
+would do the best that was in him, and that beyond this there was
+nothing for a man to think or worry about.
+
+Back there at school there had also been that sense of dissociation from
+all things not involved in the contest before him. The roaring stands,
+the pretty girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of his name
+shouted far down the field--he had heard them, but they had not affected
+him. For the time being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human
+machine, completely concentrated, as machines must be, upon the
+accomplishment of one task. Then it had been to play a game; now it was
+to fight. But it was much the same, after all; it was all in the
+man-game.
+
+A feeling of content was the only emotion that Toppy was conscious of in
+the long minutes during which he waited for Campbell to return. The
+drip-drip from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees came as music
+to his ears. The Snow-Burner and he were going to fight; in that
+knowledge there was relief after the weeks of tension.
+
+Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside, and Campbell's broad
+shoulders filled the doorway. Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a
+shoe-lace.
+
+"It's all set," said Campbell rapidly. "He says send you to him at once.
+You're in luck. He's in the stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is
+only one guard at the gate. I'll follow and be handy in case he should
+interfere."
+
+That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without a word. He made his
+way to the stockade gate with a carelessness of manner that belied his
+purpose. He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the gate and
+that the snow already was squashy underfoot. The gate opened and
+admitted him and closed behind him. Then he was walking across the yard
+toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp kitchen at the far end
+of the yard.
+
+Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses, perhaps fifty in all,
+and realised that the sudden thaw had at once enforced a period of
+idleness for some of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the
+greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored; then he was standing
+before Reivers, and Reivers was looking at him as he had looked at Rosky
+the day when he broke the Bohunk's leg. Toppy looked back, unmoved. For
+a moment the two stood silent, eye measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke
+savagely, enraged at finding a will that braved his own.
+
+"What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?"
+
+"Game?" repeated Toppy innocently.
+
+"Come, come!" Reivers' brows were drawing down over his eyes, and again
+Toppy for some reason was reminded of a bear. "You don't suppose I'm as
+innocent as Campbell, do you? You've been raising ---- in the shop, I
+hear. You're doing that with an object. You're trying some game. I don't
+care what it is; it doesn't go. There doesn't anybody try any games in
+this place except myself."
+
+"How about poker-games?" suggested Toppy quietly.
+
+A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind Reivers snickered
+audibly; for Campbell had told the story of how Toppy had bested the
+boss at poker and the man understood Toppy's thrust. Reivers' eyes
+flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant he had his anger under
+control again. He smiled.
+
+"Well, well; so we're playing the wit, are we--doctor?" he sneered
+softly. "We're trying to drive that trained mind of ours to be
+brilliant, are we? Well, I wouldn't, Treplin; the strain on inferior
+machinery may be fatal." Suddenly his whole face seemed to change,
+convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. "Get over there in that
+corner and dig a slop-sink; you hear me?" Reivers' voice was a snarl as
+he pointed to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel lay
+waiting. "That's what you're going to do, my fine buck, with your nerve
+to dare to come into my camp and think you're my equal. Dig slop-holes
+for my Dago cook; that's what you're going to do!
+
+"Do you hear? You're going to be the lowest scavenger in this gang of
+scum. I'm going to break you. I'm going to keep you here until I'm
+through with you. I'm going to send you out of here so low down that a
+saloon scrub-out would kick you on general principles. That's what's
+going to happen to you! I'm going to play with you. I'm going to show
+you how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in my own camp.
+Get over there now--right over there where the whole camp can see you,
+and dig a hole for the Dago to throw his slops!"
+
+Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner's face as the
+words shot from his iron-like lips without retreating, but Toppy stood
+still. He began to smile.
+
+"Pardon, Reivers," he said softly, "I never thought of myself as your
+equal."
+
+"Don't whine now; it's too late! Go----"
+
+"Because I know I'm a better man than you ever could be."
+
+It grew very still with great suddenness there in the corner of the big
+yard. The men within hearing held their breaths. The drip-drip from the
+eaves sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the wolf-craft
+creeping to its own far back in Reivers' eyes, and without moving he
+stood tensed for sudden, flash-like action.
+
+"So that's it?" said Reivers, smiling; and then he struck with
+serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that blow Toppy knew how desperate
+would be the battle; for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he
+had time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to save himself
+from certain knockout, while the iron-like fist tore the skin off his
+cheek as it shot past.
+
+Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. He stood upright and
+ready. He was a little surprised that his man did not go down. Toppy,
+recovering like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they
+faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls they hurled themselves
+breast to breast and the fight was on.
+
+Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that
+had flared in Reivers' eyes. It wasn't science; it wasn't sense. It was
+the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him,
+to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers
+and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force
+suddenly meeting.
+
+Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at guarding. Toe to toe
+they stood, head to head, and drove their fists against one another's
+iron-strong bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants like
+themselves could have withstood for a moment. It was madness, it was
+murder, and the group of men who were watching held their breaths and
+waited for one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked out of
+him by those pile-driver blows.
+
+Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the pair leaped apart,
+rushed together again, gripped into a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion
+with futile heaving and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed
+each other with vicious punches--a kaleidoscope of springing legs,
+rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms.
+
+It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from the heart of the men
+who witnessed and dragged them forth to form a ring around the two
+fighters. It was a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound
+came from the ring that expanded and closed as the battle raged here and
+there. The men were at first too shocked to cry out at the sight of any
+one daring to give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had worn
+away they were too wary to give a sign that might bring the guards.
+Silently and tight-lipped the ring formed; and each pair of eyes that
+watched shot nothing but hatred for Reivers.
+
+Toppy was the first to recover from the initial frensied impulse to
+strive to annihilate in one rush his hated enemy. He shook his head as
+he was wont to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his
+fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he had held his own, but
+only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked Reivers slightly in body and was a
+trifle quicker on his feet, but Reivers' blows were enough heavier than
+his to even up this advantage.
+
+He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman's neck under the ear,
+and the neck had not yielded any more than a column of wood. He had felt
+Reivers' fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it seemed that he had
+been struck by a handful of iron. When they had strained breast against
+breast in the first clash the fact that they were of equal strength had
+been apparent to both. Equally matched, and both equally determined to
+win, Toppy knew that the fight would be long; and he began to circle
+scientifically, striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving
+himself while he watched for a slip or an opening that might offer an
+advantage.
+
+Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second paused, deceived by
+Toppy's tactics. Like a bullet to the mark Toppy's right shot home on
+the exposed chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was up
+like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the mouth and rushing him
+around and around in fury at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy's
+expression told how he appreciated the significance of this incident. He
+had put all his force, from toes to knuckles, into that blow; and
+Reivers had merely been staggered. Again Toppy began circling,
+deliberately saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to him
+seemed uphill.
+
+The ring of watchers around the pair grew more close, more eager. All of
+the men present in the bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As
+Toppy circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys and most of
+the gang that had worked under him in the quarry; and by the looks in
+their eyes he knew that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In
+the next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers, swiftly
+feinting with his left, drove home the right against Toppy's jaw and
+knocked him to his haunches. But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as
+he closed in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing to the
+eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped the tight lips around
+the ring. The blood was spurting from a clean cut in Reivers' brow and a
+few men called--
+
+"First blood!"
+
+Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after Reivers' blow. The
+feel of the blood running down his face turned Reivers to a fury. He
+rushed with an impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists
+playing a tattoo on Toppy's head and body. Like a tiger Toppy fought
+back; but Reivers' rage for the moment had given him added strength. He
+fought as a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed and
+struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and rushed and struck
+again.
+
+Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the crowd as they saw him
+stagger from a blow on the jaw and saw Reivers set himself for one last
+desperate effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon, his left
+ripping up for the body, his right looping overhand in a killing swing
+at the head; and then the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior
+quickness of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past dealt him a
+left in the mouth that flung him half around and sent him staggering
+against the outheld hands of the crowd.
+
+When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding from the mouth also, and
+in his eyes was a look of caution that Toppy had never seen there
+before.
+
+The fight now became as dogged as it was furious. Each man had tried to
+end it with a single and, failing, knew that he must wear his opponent
+down. Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows struck and neither
+was in the least tired. The thud of blow followed blow. Back and forth
+the pair shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of punches,
+then his antagonist suddenly turning the tables.
+
+Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight, saved himself more
+than Reivers. The latter, who felt himself the master, became more and
+more enraged as Toppy continued to stand up before him and give him back
+as good as he gave. Each time that Toppy reached face or body with a
+solid blow the savage fury flared in Reivers' eyes, and he lunged
+forward like a maddened bull. Always, however, he recovered himself and
+resumed the fight with brains as well as brawn.
+
+Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm. He realised that
+they were so evenly matched that the loser would lose by a slip of the
+mind by letting some weak spot in his character master him; and he held
+himself in with an iron will. Reivers' blows goaded and tempted him to
+rush in madly, but he held back. The men about the ring thought he was
+losing, and their voices rose in growled encouragement.
+
+Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become more and more furious his
+hopes began to rise. At each opportunity he reached Reivers' face,
+cutting open his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging
+him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down several times in the
+rushes that invariably followed such blows, but each time he recovered
+himself before Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his
+fighting-instinct telegraphed him that Reivers was about to try
+something new. He drew back a little, Reivers following closely.
+Suddenly it came. Without warning Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in
+the groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry of rage went up
+from the watching men. But Toppy sprung erect in an instant.
+
+"All right!" he called. "It didn't hurt me. Shut up, you fools."
+
+Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned the kick and saved
+him from being disabled.
+
+"What's the matter, Reivers?" he taunted as he circled carefully.
+"Losing confidence in your fists? Got to use your feet, eh? Lost your
+kick, too, haven't you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine
+trimming!"
+
+Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the shin-bone; but Toppy
+avoided it easily and danced back with a laugh.
+
+"Can't even land it any more!" Treplin chuckled. "Show us some more
+tricks, Reivers!"
+
+Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought with lowered head,
+and Toppy once more, as he saw the eyes watching him through the thick
+brows, thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers' character
+was coming to the top. It was mastering, choking down his intelligence.
+He struck and kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a
+steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on Toppy's thigh with a
+thud.
+
+"Here, bahass!" screamed a voice to Toppy, and from somewhere in the
+crowd an ax was pitched at his feet.
+
+Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, and, though in deep pain
+from the last kick, continued fighting as if nothing had happened.
+
+The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and been caught by the sight
+of the flashing steel. A gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of
+his ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with one terrible
+stroke--that was his single passion. The axe opened the way.
+
+Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little by little he drove
+Toppy back. Closer and closer he came to the spot where the axe lay on
+the ground. Once more Toppy's instinct warned him that Reivers was after
+a terrible coup, and once more his whole mind and body responded with
+extra vigilance.
+
+As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his feet and understood.
+He saw that Reivers was systematically working toward the weapon, though
+apparently unconscious of its existence.
+
+It was in Toppy's mind to dance away, to call out to the men to remove
+the axe; but before he could do so something had whispered to him to
+hold his tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back at every
+inch.
+
+Now he had stepped beyond the axe.
+
+Now it lay between him and Reivers.
+
+Now it lay beneath Reivers' feet, and now, as Reivers stooped to pick it
+up, Toppy, like a tiger, flung himself forward. It was what he had
+foreseen, what had made him hold his tongue.
+
+The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly
+reasoning brain in Toppy's head had foreseen that in that lay his
+advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers
+paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward
+at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with
+his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his
+left ear exposed.
+
+Toppy's fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound
+of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and
+lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach.
+Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul
+curses on his lips.
+
+Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. His left lifted
+Reivers from his feet. Even while he was in the air, Toppy's right
+followed on the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, drawing a long
+breath, called into play all the strength he had been saving. He struck
+and struck again so rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow
+found its mark; and each was of deadly power.
+
+He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he willed. He beat him till
+he saw Reivers' eyes grow glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost
+superhuman strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet until now in
+spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now he swayed back and forth once.
+His breath came in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly;
+and as a great tree falls--slowly at first, then with a sudden crash--the
+Snow-Burner toppled and fell face downward on the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX--TOPPY'S WAY
+
+
+Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished foe. The convulsive rise
+and fall of his breast as he panted for breath told how desperately and
+savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious and looked down upon
+the man he had conquered, the chivalry innate in him began to stir with
+respect and even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked at
+Reivers' bloody face as, the head turned on one side, it lay nuzzled
+helplessly against the soft ground. A wave of revulsion, the aftermath
+of his fury, passed over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his
+eyes as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists had
+wrought.
+
+And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not foreseen it, never had
+dreamed it possible. But now the men who had watched cried aloud their
+hatred of the big man who lay before them. The king-man, their master,
+was down! Upright, they would have quailed before his mere look. But now
+he was down! The man who had mastered them, broken them, tortured them,
+lay helpless there before them. The courage and hate of slaves suddenly
+in power over their master flamed through them. This was their chance;
+they had him now.
+
+"We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!" they roared, and threw
+themselves like a pack of wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they
+rushed Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness; then he went
+down under a shower of heavily booted feet.
+
+With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself forward. He knew quite well
+that this was what Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the
+men some time would have the opportunity for such revenge. But now he
+discovered that he couldn't stand by and see it done. It wasn't in him.
+Reivers was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was helpless.
+Toppy's rage suddenly swerved from Reivers to the men who were trying to
+kick the life out of him.
+
+"Back! Get back there, I say!" he ordered.
+
+He reached in and threw men right and left. He knocked others down. One
+he picked up and used as a battering-ram, and so he fought his way in
+and cleared the rabble away from Reivers. Reivers with more than human
+tenaciousness had retained a glimmer of consciousness. He saw Toppy
+standing astride of him fighting for his life. And in that beaten,
+desperate moment Reivers laughed once more.
+
+"You're a ---- fool, Treplin," said he. "You'd better let them finish the
+job."
+
+Toppy dragged him to his feet. A gleam of mastery flashed over the
+Snow-Burner as he felt himself standing upright. He swung to face the
+men.
+
+"Out of the way there, you scum!" he ordered, in his old manner. The men
+laughed in reply. The spell had been broken. The men had seen the
+Snow-Burner knocked down and beaten. They had seen that Toppy was his
+master. They had kicked him; they had had him under them. No longer did
+he stand apart and above them. They cursed him and swarmed in, striking,
+kicking, hauling, and dragged him to the ground.
+
+"Give him to us, bahss!" they cried. "Let us kill him, bahss!"
+
+Some of them hung back. They did not wish to run contrary to the wishes
+of Toppy, their "bahss" and champion. Toppy once more got Reivers on his
+feet and dragged him toward the gate. A knife or two gleamed in the
+crowd.
+
+"Run for the gate!" cried Toppy. Reivers tottered a few steps and fell.
+Over him Toppy stormed, fought, commanded, but the mob pressed
+constantly closer. Then, suddenly, they stopped striking. They began to
+break. Toppy, looking around for the reason, saw Campbell and a guard
+running toward them--Campbell with his big revolver, the guard with his
+gun at a ready. With a last tremendous effort he picked Reivers up in
+his arms and ran to meet them. He heard the guard fire once, heard
+Campbell ordering the men to stand back; then he staggered out of the
+stockade and dropped his heavy burden on the ground. Behind him Campbell
+and the guard slammed shut the gate, and within the cries and curses of
+the men rose in one awful wail, the cry of a blood-mob cheated of its
+prey.
+
+Reivers rose slowly, first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He
+looked at Toppy, and the only expression upon his face was a sneer.
+
+"You ---- fool!" he laughed. "You poor weak sister! You'll be sorry before
+morning that you didn't let the men finish that job!"
+
+He turned, and without another word went staggering away to the building
+where he and the guards lived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI--THE END OF THE BOSS
+
+
+Back in the shop Campbell went to work with a will to doctor up Toppy's
+battered face.
+
+"I dunno, lad, I dunno," he muttered as he patched up the ragged cuts.
+"It was the poetry of justice that the men should have had him, but I
+dunno that I could ha' left him lie there myself."
+
+"Of course you couldn't," said Toppy. "A man can't do that sort of
+thing. But, say, Campbell, what do you suppose he meant about being
+sorry before morning because I saved him?"
+
+Although he had won in the contest which he had so longed for, although
+he had proved and knew that he was a better man than Reivers, Toppy for
+some reason experienced none of the elation which he had expected. The
+thing wasn't settled. Reivers was still fighting. He was still boss of
+Hell Camp. He was fighting with craft now. What had that final threat
+meant?
+
+"It has to do with the lass; I'll wager on that," said Campbell. "He
+will aye be taking his revenge on her. I know the man; he has that way."
+
+"The dog!"
+
+"Aye.--Hold still wi' that ear now.--Aye; it's the way of the man, as I
+know him. But I'm thinking some one else will play dog, too. Watchdog, I
+mean. And I'm thinking the same will be mysel'."
+
+"You don't think he'll try----"
+
+"The Snow-Burner will try anything if his mind's set. Even force.--Hold
+still wi' your chin.--You licked him fair, lad. 'Twas a great fight.
+You're best man. But I'm glad I have my shooting-utensil handy, for if
+I'm any judge Hell Camp will aye deserve its name to-night."
+
+"What do you think will happen?"
+
+"'Tis hard to say. But 'tis sure Reivers means to do something
+desperate, and as I know the man 'tis something that concerns the lass.
+Then there are the men. They have tasted blood. They have seen the
+Snow-Burner beaten. His grip has been torn off them. They're no longer
+afraid. When the working gangs come in this noon and hear the story
+there'll be nothing can hold them from doing what they please. You know
+what that will be. They're wild to break loose. Gi'n they lay hands on
+Reivers they'll tear him and the camp to pieces. Aye, there'll be things
+stirring here before evening, or I'm a dolt."
+
+True to Campbell's prediction, the stockade shook with cheers, roars and
+curses that noon when the working men came in and heard the tale of the
+Snow-Burner's downfall. The discipline of the camp vanished with those
+shouts. The men were no longer cowed. They were free and unafraid. After
+they had eaten, the straw-bosses and guards prepared to lead them back
+to their work.
+
+The men laughed. The bosses joined them. The guards threatened. The men
+jeered. Reivers, the only force that had kept them cowed, was lying
+beaten and helpless in his bunk, and not even the shotguns of the guards
+could cow the fierce spirit that had broken loose in the men when they
+heard this news.
+
+"Shoot, ---- you, shoot!" they jeered at the guards.
+
+The guards faltered. The whole camp was in revolt and they knew that as
+sure as one shot was fired the men would rush at no matter how great the
+cost to themselves. There were a hundred and fifty maddened, desperate
+men in the camp now, instead of a hundred and fifty cattle; and the
+guards, minus Reivers' leadership, retreated to their quarters and
+locked the door.
+
+The men did not go back to work. Not an axe, peavey or cant-hook was
+touched; not a team was hitched up. The men swaggered and shouted for
+Reivers to come out and boss them. They begged him to come out. They
+wanted to talk with him. They had a lot to tell him. They wouldn't hurt
+him--no, they would only give him a little of his own medicine!
+
+However, they gave the guards' house a wide berth, on account of the
+deadly shotguns. The short afternoon passed quickly and the darkness
+came on.
+
+Toppy and Campbell were sitting down to supper when they noticed that it
+was unusually light in the direction of the stockade. Presently there
+was a roaring crackling; then a chorus of cries, demonlike in their
+ferocity. Toppy sprang to the window and staggered back at the sight
+that met his eyes.
+
+"Great Scot, Campbell! Look, look!" he cried. "They've fired the camp!"
+
+Together they rushed to the door. From the farther end of the stockade a
+billow of red, pitchy flame was sweeping up into the night, and the roar
+and crackle of the dried pine logs burning was drowned in the cries of
+the men as they cheered the results of their handiwork.
+
+Toppy and Campbell ran toward the stockade gate. The gate had been
+chopped to pieces, but the guards, from the shelter of their building,
+were shooting at the opening and preventing the men from rushing out.
+The flames at the far end of the stockade rose higher and fiercer as
+they began to get their hold on the pitchy wood. The smoke, billowing
+low, came driving back into the faces of Campbell and Toppy.
+
+"They've done it up brown now!" swore Campbell. "The wind's this way.
+The whole camp will go unless yon fire's checked."
+
+Over the front of the stockade something flew through the darkness, its
+parabola marked by a string of sparks that spluttered behind it. It fell
+near one side of the guards' quarters. A second later it exploded with a
+noise and shock that shook the whole camp.
+
+"Dynamite," said Scotty. "The men have been stealing it and saving it
+for this occasion. Gi'n one of those sticks lands on that building
+there'll be dead men inside."
+
+But the men inside evidently had no mind to wait for such a catastrophe.
+They came rushing out in the darkness, slipping quickly out of sight,
+yet firing at the gate as they went. One of them rushed past Toppy in
+the direction of the office. Toppy scarcely noticed him. On second
+thought something about the man's great size, his broad shoulders, the
+hang of his arms, attracted him. He turned to look; the man had vanished
+in the dark. A vague uneasiness took possession of Toppy. For a moment
+he stood puzzled.
+
+"My ----!" he cried suddenly. "That was Reivers, and he was going to her!"
+
+He started in pursuit. Reivers was pounding on the door of the office
+when Toppy reached him. The door was locked.
+
+"Open up; open up at once!" he ordered. Beyond the door Toppy heard the
+voice of the girl.
+
+"Oh, please, please, Mr. Reivers! I'm afraid!"
+
+Reivers' tone changed.
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of, Miss Pearson," he said blandly. "There's a
+fire in camp. I want to get in to save the books and papers."
+
+"Is that why you sent Tilly away this morning?" said Toppy quietly,
+coming up behind him.
+
+Reivers turned with a start.
+
+"Hello, Treplin!" he said, recovering himself instantly. "No hard
+feelings, I hope." His manner was so at ease that Toppy was thrown off
+his guard.
+
+"I won't make the mistake of fighting with you any more, Treplin,"
+continued Reivers. "Look at the way you've spoiled my nose. You ought to
+fix that up for me. Look at it."
+
+He came closer and pointed with two fingers to his broken nose. Toppy,
+unsuspecting, leaned forward. Before he could move head or arms Reivers'
+two hands had shot out and fastened like two iron claws upon his
+unprotected throat.
+
+"Now, ---- you!" hissed Reivers. "Tear me loose or kiss your life
+good-by."
+
+And Toppy tried to tear him loose--tried with a desperation born of the
+sudden knowledge that his life depended upon it; and failed. The
+Snow-Burner had got his death-hold. His arms were like bars of steel;
+his fingers yielded no more to Toppy's tugging than claws of moulded
+iron. "Struggle, ---- you! Fight, ---- you!" hissed Reivers. "That's right;
+die hard; for, by ----, you're done now!"
+
+The eyes seemed starting from Toppy's head. His brains seemed to be
+bursting. He felt a strange emptiness in his chest. Things went red,
+then they began to go black. He made one final futile attempt. He felt
+his legs sinking, felt his whole body sagging, felt that the end had
+come; then heard as if far away the office-door fly open, heard the girl
+crying----
+
+"Stop, Mr. Reivers, or I'll shoot!"
+
+Then the roar of a shot. He felt the hands loosen on his throat, swayed
+and fell sidewise as the whole world turned black.
+
+He opened his eyes soon and saw by the light of the rising flames that
+Campbell was running toward him. In the doorway of the office stood the
+girl, her left hand over her eyes, Campbell's big black revolver in her
+right. Down the road, with strange, drunken steps, Reivers was running
+toward the river. Behind him ran half a dozen men armed with axes
+screaming his name in rage, but Reivers, despite his queer gait, was
+distancing his pursuers. It was some time before Toppy grasped the
+significance of these sights. Then he remembered.
+
+"You--you saved me," he said clumsily, rising to his feet. The girl
+dropped the revolver and burst into a fit of sobbing.
+
+"'Twas aye handy I thought of giving her the gun and telling her to keep
+the door locked," said Campbell. "Do you go in, lassie. All's well. Go
+in."
+
+"Eh? What's this?" he cried, for in spite of her sobbing she drew
+sharply away from his sheltering arm as he tried to usher her indoors.
+
+The smoke from the fire swept down into their faces in a choking cloud.
+Toppy looked toward the stockade. By this time the whole end of the
+great building was in flames. The men in pursuit of Reivers were howling
+as they gained on their quarry, and Toppy lurched after them.
+
+"Bob! Mr. Treplin!"
+
+Toppy stopped.
+
+"I mean--Mr. Treplin--you--don't go down there--you're hurt--please!"
+
+Toppy moved toward her. Was it true? Was it really there the note in her
+voice that he yearned to hear?
+
+"What did you say--please?" he stammered.
+
+And now it was her turn to be confused. The sobs came back to her. Toppy
+took a long breath and nerved himself to desperation.
+
+"Helen!" he said hoarsely.
+
+"Bob! Oh, Bob!" she whispered. "Don't leave me--don't leave me alone."
+
+Once more Toppy filled his lungs with air and ground his teeth in
+desperate resolution. He tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came
+from his throat; so he held out his big arms in mute appeal, and
+suddenly he found himself whispering incoherently at a little blonde
+head which lay snuggled in great content against his bosom.
+
+A maddened yell came from the men who were after Reivers. But Toppy and
+the girl might have been a thousand miles away for all the attention
+they paid. One end of the stockade fell in with a great roar and a
+shower of flame and sparks; but the twain did not hear.
+
+"Aye, aye!" Old Campbell moved swiftly away. "He's a grown man now, and
+so he's a right to have his woman.--Aye. A real man he had to be to take
+her away from the Snow-Burner."
+
+Down by the river the pursuing men gave tongue to a cry with the note of
+the wolf in it.
+
+Campbell turned from the young couple and stared with gleaming eyes in
+the direction whence came the cry.
+
+"Ah, Reivers!" he murmured. "Ye great man gone wrong! How goes it with
+ye now, Reivers? Can ye win through? Can ye? I wonder--I wonder!"
+
+And as Toppy and Helen, holding closely to one another, entered the
+office building, the old man hastened to join the throng by the river
+where the fate of the Snow-Burner was being spun.
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPERMAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII--THE CHEATING OF THE RIVER
+
+
+"It's got him! The river's got him. He's drowned! 'Hell-Camp'
+Reivers--he's gone. He's done for. The 'Snow-Burner' is dead, dead dead!"
+
+Like wolves in revolt the men of "Hell Camp" lined the bank of the
+rushing, ice-choked river and cursed and roared into the blackness of
+the night. Behind them the buildings of the camp, scene of the
+Snow-Burner's inhuman brutality and dominance over the lives of men,
+were going up in seas of flame which they had started.
+
+Before them the tumultuous river, the waters battling the ice which
+strove to cover it, tossed black and white under the red glow of
+tumbling fire. And somewhere out in the murderous current, whirled and
+sucked down by the rushing water, buffeted and crushed by the grinding
+ice, a bullet-hole through his shoulder, was all that was left of the
+man whose life they had cried for.
+
+The river had cheated them. Like panting wolves, their hands
+outstretched claw-like to clutch and kill, they had pursued him closely
+to the river's edge. A cry of rage, short, sharp, unreasoning, had
+leaped from their throats as Reivers, staggering from his wound, had
+leaped unhesitatingly out on to the heaving cakes of ice.
+
+Spellbound, open-mouthed and silent, they had stood and watched as their
+erstwhile oppressor ran zigzagging, leaping from cake to cake, out
+toward the black slip of open water which ran silently, swiftly in the
+river's middle. And then they had cried out again.
+
+For the open water had caught him. Straight into it, without pausing or
+swerving, Reivers had run on. And the black water had taken him home.
+Like a stone dropped into its midst, it had taken him plump--a flirt of
+spray, a gurgle. Then the waters rushed on as before, silent, deadly,
+unconcerned.
+
+And so the men of Hell Camp, drunk with the spirit and success of their
+revolt, cried out in triumph. Their cry rose over the roar of flame. It
+rang above the rumble of crunching ice. It reached, p�an-like, up
+through the star-filled northern night--a cry of victory, of
+gratification, the old, terrible cry of the kill.
+
+For the Snow-Burner was gone. Wolf-like he had harried them and
+wolf-like he had died. No man, not even Hell-Camp Reivers, they knew,
+could live a minute in that black water. They had seen the waters close
+above him; a floe of ice swept serenely over the spot where he had gone
+down. He was gone. The world was rid of him.
+
+And so the men of Cameron-Dam Camp, while their cry still echoed in the
+timber, turned to carry the news of the Snow-Burner's end back to the
+men who were milling about the burning camp. The Snow-Burner was dead!
+
+Out in the deadly river, Hell-Camp Reivers stayed under water until he
+knew that the men on the bank counted him drowned. He had sought the
+open water deliberately, his giant lungs filling themselves with air as
+he plunged down to the superhuman test which was to spell life or death
+for him.
+
+He realised that if he were to live he must appear to perish in the
+river, before the eyes of the men who pursued him. To have won through
+the open water, and over the ice beyond, and in their sight have reached
+the farther shore would have sealed his doom as surely as to have
+returned to the bank where stood the men.
+
+The camp had revolted. Two hundred men had said that he must die; and
+had he been seen to cross the river and enter the timber beyond, half of
+the two hundred, properly armed, would have crossed the stringers of the
+dam, not to pause or rest until they had hunted him down. He was without
+weapons of any kind save his bare fists. He was bleeding heavily from
+the bullet-hole in his right shoulder. He would have died like a wounded
+wolf run to earth had he been seen to cross the river safely. His only
+chance for life was to appear to die in the river.
+
+He made no fight as he went down. The swift waters sucked him under like
+a straw. They rolled him over the rocky bottom, whirled him around and
+around sunken piles of ice. Into the sluice-like current of the stream's
+middle they spewed him, and the current caught him and shot him into the
+darkness below the glare of the burning camp.
+
+He lay inert in the water's grasp, recking not how the sharp ice gashed
+and tore face and hands, how the rocks crushed and bruised his body. A
+sweeping ice-floe caught him and held him down. Like some great
+river-beast he lay supine beneath it, conserving every atom of his
+giant's strength for the test that was to win him life.
+
+Then, with the blood roaring in his temples, and his bursting lungs
+warning him that the next second must yield him air or death, he threw
+his body upward against the ice, felt it slip to one side, thrust his
+upturned face out of the water, caught a finger-hold on another floe
+that strove to thrust him down, gasped, clawed and--laughed.
+
+He was a dead man, and he lived. Men had driven him into the jaws of
+death, and death had engulfed and apparently swallowed him. Men counted
+him now as one who had gone hence. Far and wide the word would be flung
+in a hurry: the Snow-Burner was no more; Hell-Camp Reivers had passed
+away.
+
+The face of the Snow-Burner as it rode barely above the icy, lapping
+waters, bore but one single expression, a sardonic appreciation of the
+joke he had played upon men and Death. The loss of Cameron Camp, of his
+position, of all that he called his own did not trouble him.
+
+As the current swept him down there, he was a beaten man, stripped of
+all the things that men struggle for to have and to hold, and with but a
+slippery finger-hold on life itself. Yet he was victorious, triumphant.
+
+He had placed himself within the clammy fingers of the River Death. The
+fingers had closed upon him, and he had torn them apart, had thrust
+death away, had clutched life as it fleeted from him and had drawn it
+back to hold for the time being. And Reivers laughed contemptuously,
+tauntingly, at the sucking waters cheated of their prey.
+
+"Not yet, Nick, old boy," he muttered. "It doesn't please me to boss
+your stokers just yet."
+
+The current tore the ice from his precarious grip and he was forced to
+swim for it. In the darkness he struck the grinding icefield on the far
+side of the open water, and like the claws of a bear his stiffening
+fingers sought for and found a crevice to afford a secure hold.
+
+A pull, a heave and a wriggle, and he lay face-down on the jagged
+ice--heart, lungs and brain crying for the cold air which he sucked in
+avidly. The ice-cakes parted beneath his weight. Once more he fought
+through the water to a resting place on the ice; once more the
+treacherous ice parted and dropped him into the water.
+
+Swimming, crawling, wriggling his way, he fought on. At last an
+outstretched hand groped to a hold on a snow-covered root on the far
+bank of the river.
+
+"About time," he said and, slowly drawing himself up onto the bank, he
+rolled over in the snow and lay with his face turned back toward Cameron
+Camp.
+
+The fire which the men had started in the long bunk-house when they had
+revolted against the inhumanity of Reivers now had gained full headway.
+In pitchy, red billows of flame the dried log walls were roaring upward
+into the night. Like the yipping of maddened demons, the bellowing
+shouts of the men came back to him as they danced and leaped around the
+fire in celebration of the passing of Reivers and of the camp for which
+his treatment of men had justly earned the title of Hell-Camp.
+
+But louder and more poignant even than the roar of flame and the shouts
+of jubilant men, there came to Reivers' ears a sound which prompted him
+to drag himself to an elbow to listen. Somewhere out in the timber near
+the camp a man was crying for mercy. A rifle cracked; the pleading
+stopped. Reivers smiled contemptuously.
+
+"One of the guards; they got him," he mused. "The fool! That's what he
+gets for being silly enough to be faithful to me."
+
+But the fate of the guard, one of the "shot-gun artists" who had served
+him faithfully and brutally in the task of keeping the men of the camp
+helpless under his heel, roused Reivers to the need of quick action. If
+the guards had escaped into the woods and were being hunted down by the
+maddened crew, the hunt might easily lead across the dam and up the bank
+to where he lay. Once let it be known that he had not perished in the
+river, and the whole camp would come swarming across the dam, each man's
+hand against him, resolved to take his trail and hunt him down, no
+matter where the trail might lead or how long the hunt might take.
+
+The fight through the river ice was but the preliminary to his flight
+for safety. Many miles of cold trail between him and the burning camp
+were his most urgent present needs, and with a curse he staggered to his
+feet and stood for a moment lowering back across the water to the scene
+of his overthrow.
+
+To a lesser man--or a better man--there would have been deep humiliation
+in the situation. Reivers's mind flashed back over the incidents of the
+last few hours. Over there, across the river, he had been beaten for the
+first time in his life in a fair, stand-up fist fight. He had
+underestimated young Treplin, and Treplin had beaten him.
+
+Following his defeat had come the revolt of the men. Following that had
+come flight. The power and leadership of the camp had been wrested from
+his hands by a better man; he himself had been driven out, helpless,
+beaten, yet Reivers only laughed as he stood now and looked back across
+the river. For in the river the Snow-Burner had died.
+
+The past was dead. A new life was beginning for him. It had to be so,
+for if word went back that the Snow-Burner was still alive the men of
+Cameron-Dam Camp would come clamouring to the hunt. To die, and yet to
+live; to slough one life, as an old coat, and to take up another, not
+having the slightest notion of what it might hold--that was the great
+adventure, that was something so interesting that the humiliation of
+defeat never so much as reached beneath Reivers' skin.
+
+He stood for a moment, looking back at the camp, and he smiled. He waved
+his left hand in a polished gesture of contemptuous farewell.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Hell-Camp Reivers," he growled. "Hello, Mr. New Man,
+whoever you are. Let's go and lay up till the puncture in your hide
+heals. Then we'll go out and see what you can do to this silly old
+world."
+
+With his fingers clutching the hole in his shoulder, he turned and
+lurched drunkenly away into the blackness of the thick timber.
+
+The icy waters of the river had been kind to him in more ways than one.
+They had congealed the warm blood-spurts from his wound into a solid red
+clot, and his thick woolen shirt and mackinaw were frozen stiff and
+tight against the clot.
+
+He held to his staggering run for an hour, seeking bare spots in the
+timber, travelling on top of windfalls when he found them, hiding his
+trail in uncanny fashion, before his body grew warm enough to thaw the
+icy bandages. Then he halted and, by the light of the cold moon, bared
+his shoulder and took stock. It was a bad, ragged wound. He moved the
+shoulder and smiled sardonically as he noted that no bone was touched.
+
+From the butt of a shattered windfall he tore a flat sliver of clean
+pine. With his teeth he worried it down to a proper size, and with
+handkerchief and belt he bound it over the wound so tightly that it sunk
+deep into the muscles of the shoulder. It chafed and cut the skin and
+started the blood in half a dozen places, but he pulled the belt up
+another hole despite the inclination to grimace from pain.
+
+"Suffer, Body," he muttered, "suffer all you please. You've nothing to
+say about this. Your job for the present is merely to serve life by
+keeping it going. Later on you may grow whole again. I shall need you."
+
+He buttoned his mackinaw with difficulty and, finding an open space,
+turned and took his bearings. Far behind him a dull red glow on the sky
+marked the location of Cameron-Dam Camp. From this he turned, carefully
+scanning the heavens, until above the top of the timber he caught the
+weird glint of the northern lights. That way lay his course.
+
+The white man's country stopped with the timber in which he stood.
+Beyond was Indian country, the bleak, barren Dead Lands, a wilderness
+too bare of timber to tempt the logger, a land of ridge upon ridge of
+ragged rock, unexplored by white man, save for a rare mining prospector,
+and uninhabited save for the half-starved camp of the people of Tillie,
+the Chippewa, Reivers' slave, by the power of the love she bore him.
+
+White men shunned the white wastes of the Dead Lands as, in warmer
+climes, they shun the unwatered sands of the desert. That was why
+Reivers sought it. Out there in the camp of Tillie's people he could lie
+safe, well fed, well nursed, until his wound healed and the strength of
+his body came back to him. And then....
+
+"Cheer up, Body!" he chuckled as he started northward. "We'll make the
+world pay bitterly for all of this when we're in shape again. For the
+present we're going north, going north, going north. You can't stop,
+Body; you can't lay down. Groan all you want to. You're going to be
+dragged just as far to-night as if you weren't shot up at all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII--THE GIRL WHO WAS NOT AFRAID
+
+
+Break of day in Winter time comes to the Dead Lands slowly and without
+enthusiasm, as if the rosy morning sun wearied at the hopeless landscape
+which its rays must illumine. Aimless rock formation was a drug on the
+creation's market the day that the Bad Lands were made. Gigantic
+boulders, box-like bluffs, ragged rock-spires, cliffs and plateaus of
+bare rock were in oversupply.
+
+Nature, so a glimpse of the place suggests, had resolved to get rid of a
+vast surplus of ugly, useless stone, and with one cast of its hands
+flung them solidly down and made the Dead Lands. There they lie,
+hog-back, ridge, gully and ravine, hopelessly and aimlessly jumbled and
+tumbled, a scene of desolate greyness by Summer; by Winter the raw,
+bleak ridges and spires, thrusting themselves through the covering of
+snow like unto the bones of a half concealed skeleton.
+
+Daylight crept wearily over the timber belt and spread itself slowly
+over the barrenness, and struck the highest rise of ground, running
+crosswise through the barrens, which men called "Hog-Back Ridge." Little
+by little it lighted up the bleak peaks and tops of ridge and
+rock-spire.
+
+A wind came with it, a bleak, morning Winter wind which whined as it
+whipped the dry snow from high places and sent it flying across coul�e
+and valley in the grey light of dawn. Nothing stirred with the coming of
+daylight. No nocturnal animal, warned of the day's coming, slunk away to
+its cave; no beast or bird of daylight greeted the morning with movement
+or song. The grey half-light revealed no living thing of life upon the
+exposed hump of the ridge.
+
+The sun came, a ball of dull red, rising over the timber line. It
+touched the topmost spires of rock, sought to gild them rosily, gave up
+as their sullen sides refused to take the colour, and turned its rays
+along the eastern slope. Then something moved. A single speck of life
+stirred in the vast scene of desolation.
+
+On the bare ground in the lea of a boulder a man sat with his back to
+the stone and slept. His face was hollow and lined. The corners of his
+mouth were drawn down as if a weight were hung on each of them, and the
+thin cheeks, hugging the bones so tightly that the teeth showed through,
+told that the man had driven himself too far on an empty stomach. Yet,
+even in sleep, there was a hint of a sardonic smile on the misshapen
+lips, a smile that condemned and made naught the pain and cruelty of his
+fate.
+
+The sun crept down the slope of Hog-Back Ridge and found him. It reached
+his eyes. Its rays had no more warmth than the rays of the cold Winter
+moon, but its light pierced through the tightly drawn lids. They
+twitched and finally parted. Reivers awoke without yawning or moving and
+looked around.
+
+It was the second morning after his flight from Cameron-Dam Camp, and he
+had yet to reach the Winter camp of the people of Tillie the squaw.
+Somewhere to the west it lay. He would reach it and reach it in good
+time, he swore; but he had not had a bite of food in his mouth for two
+days, and the fever of his wound had sapped heavily his strength.
+
+"Be still, Body," he growled, as with the return of consciousness his
+belly cried out for food. "You will be fed before life goes out of you."
+
+He rose slowly and stiffly to his knees and looked down the ridge to
+where the rays of the sun now were illumining the snow-covered bottom of
+the valley below. The valley ran eastward for a mile or two, and at
+first glance it was empty and dead, save for the flurries of wind-swept
+snow, dropping down from the heights above. But Reivers, as he rose to
+his feet, swept the valley with a second glance, and suddenly he dropped
+and crouched down close to the ground.
+
+Far down at the lower end of the valley a black speck showed on the
+frozen snow, and the speck was moving.
+
+Reivers lay on the bare patch of ground, as silent and immovable as the
+rock above him. The speck was too large to be a single animal and too
+small to be a pack of travelling caribou.
+
+For several minutes he lay, scarcely breathing, his eyes straining to
+bring the speck into comprehensible shape. His breath began to come
+rapidly. Presently he swore. The speck had become two specks now, a long
+narrow speck and a tiny one which moved beside it, and they were coming
+steadily up the valley toward where he lay.
+
+"One man and a dog-team," mused Reivers. "He won't be travelling here
+without grub. Body, wake up! You are crying for food. Yonder it comes.
+Get ready to take it."
+
+Slowly, with long pauses between each movement, and taking care not to
+place his dark body against the white snow, Reivers dragged himself
+around to a hiding-place behind the boulder against which he had slept.
+The sun had risen higher now. Its rays were lighting the valley, and as
+he peered avidly around one side of the stone, Reivers could make out
+some detail of the two specks that moved so steadily toward him.
+
+It was a four-dog team, travelling rapidly, and the man, on snow-shoes,
+travelled beside his team and plied his whip as he strode. Reivers'
+brows drew down in puzzled fashion. The sledge which whirled behind the
+running dogs seemed flat and unloaded; the dogs ran in a fashion that
+told they were strong and fresh. Why didn't the man ride?
+
+Reivers drew back to take stock of the situation. The man might be a
+stranger, travelling hurriedly through the Dead Lands, or he might be
+one of the men from Cameron-Dam Camp. If the former, food might be had
+for a mere hail and the asking; if the latter--Reivers's nostrils widened
+and he smiled.
+
+Yet a third possibility existed. The man was travelling in strange
+fashion, running beside an apparently empty sled, and whipping his dogs
+along. So did men travel when they were fleeing from various reasons,
+and men fleeing thus do not go unarmed nor take kindly to having the
+trail of their flight witnessed by casual though starving strangers.
+Thus there was one chance that a hail and plea for food would be met
+with a friendly response; two chances that they would be met with lead
+or steel.
+
+Reivers, not being a careless man, looked about for ways and means to
+place the odds in his favour. A hundred yards to the north of him the
+valley narrowed into a mere slit between two straight walls of rock.
+Through this gap the traveller must pass.
+
+When Reivers had crawled to a position on the rock directly above the
+narrow opening, he lay flat down and grinned in peace. He was securely
+hidden, and the dog-driver would pass unsuspectingly, unready, thirty
+feet beneath where he lay. Things were looking well.
+
+The driver and team came on at a steady pace. Even at a great distance,
+his stride betrayed his race and Reivers muttered, "White man," and
+pushed to the edge of the bluff a huge, jagged piece of rock. The man
+might not listen to reason, and Reivers was taking no chances of
+allowing an opportunity to feed to slip by.
+
+The sleigh still puzzled him. As it came nearer and nearer he saw that
+it was not empty. Something long and flat lay upon it. Reivers ceased to
+watch the driver and turned his scrutiny entirely to the bundle upon the
+sleigh. Minute after minute he watched the sleigh to the exclusion of
+everything else.
+
+He made out eventually that the bundle was the size and form of a human
+body. Soon he saw that it moved now and then, as if struggling to rise.
+
+The sleigh came nearer, came into a space where the sunlight, streaming
+through a gap in the ridge, lighted it up brightly, and Reivers' whole
+body suddenly stiffened upon the ground and his teeth snapped shut
+barely in time to cut short an ejaculation of surprise.
+
+The bundle on the sleigh was a woman--a white woman! And she was bound
+around from ankle to forehead with thongs passed under the sleigh.
+
+"Food--and a woman--a white woman," he mused. "The new life becomes
+interesting. Body, get ready."
+
+He held the rock balanced on the edge of the cliff, ready to hurl it
+down with one supreme effort of his waning strength. Hugging the cliff
+he lay, his head barely raised sufficiently to watch his approaching
+quarry. He could make out the face of the man by this time, a square
+face, mostly covered with hair, with the square-cut hair of the head
+hanging down below the ears. Two fang-like teeth glistened in the
+sunlight when the man opened his mouth to curse at the dogs, and he
+turned at times to leer back at the helpless burden on the sleigh.
+
+As he approached the narrow defile, where the rock walls hid a man and
+what he might do from the eyes of all but the sky above, the man turned
+to look more frequently, more leeringly at his victim. Reivers saw that
+the woman was gagged as well as bound.
+
+The driver shouted a command at his dogs, and their lope became a walk,
+and even as Reivers, up on the cliff, arched his back to hurl his stone,
+the outfit came to a halt directly beneath where he lay. Reivers waited.
+He had no compunction about disabling or killing the man below; a crying
+belly knows no conscience. But he would wait and see what was to
+develop.
+
+The man swiftly jerked his team back in the traces and turned toward his
+victim. Reivers, turning his eyes from the man to the woman, received a
+shock which caused him to hug closer to the cliff. The woman lay
+helpless on the sleigh, face up. A cloth gag covered her face up to the
+nose, and a cap, drawn down over the forehead, left only the eyes and
+nose visible. And the eyes were wide open--very wide open--and they were
+looking quite calmly and unafraid up at Reivers.
+
+The driver came back and tore the gag from the woman's lips.
+
+"I'll give you a chance," he exploded, and Reivers, up on the cliff,
+caught the passion-choked note in voice and again held the stone ready.
+"I'm stealing you for the chief--for Shanty Moir, the man who's got your
+father's mine, and who's determined to put shame on you, Red MacGregor's
+daughter. I'm taking you there to him--in his camp. You know what that
+means.
+
+"Well, I've changed my mind. I--I'll give you a chance. I'll save you.
+Come with me. I won't take you up there. We'll go out of the country.
+You know what it'd mean to go up there. Well,--I'll marry you."
+
+Many things happened in the next few seconds. The man threw himself like
+a wild beast beside the sledge, caught the woman's face in his hands and
+kissed her bestially upon the helpless lips.
+
+The girl did not struggle or cry out. Only her wide eyes looked up to
+the top of the cliff, looked questioningly, speculatively, calmly. He of
+the hairy face caught the direction of her look and sprang up and
+whirled around, the glove flying from his right hand, and a six-shooter
+leaping into it apparently from nowhere.
+
+His face was upturned, and he fired even as the big rock smote him on
+the forehead and crushed him shapelessly into the snow. Reivers dragged
+forward another stone and waited, but the man was too obviously dead to
+render caution necessary.
+
+"He was experienced and quick," said Reivers to the woman, "but I was
+too hungry to miss him. Did you think I did it to save you? Oh, no! Just
+a minute, till I get down; you'll know me better."
+
+He staggered and fell as he rose to pick his way down, for the cast with
+the heavy stone had tapped the last reservoirs of his depleted strength,
+had wrenched open the wounded shoulder and started the blood. Painfully
+he dragged himself on hands and knees to a snow-covered slope, and
+slipping and sliding made his way to the valley-bottom and came
+staggering up to the sledge. The woman to him for the time being did not
+exist.
+
+"Steady, Body," he muttered, as he tore open the grub-bag on the sleigh.
+"Here's food."
+
+His fingers fell first on a huge chunk of cooked venison, and he looked
+no farther. Down in the snow at the side of the helpless woman he
+squatted and proceeded to eat. Only when the pang in his stomach had
+been appeased did he look at the woman. Then, for a time, he forgot
+about eating.
+
+It was not a woman but a girl. Her face was fair and her hair golden
+red. Her big eyes were looking at him appraisingly. There was no fear in
+them, no apprehension. She noted the hollowness of his cheeks, the fever
+in his eyes. Reivers almost dropped his meat in amazement. The girl
+actually was pitying him!
+
+He stood up, thrust the meat back into the grub-bag and stood swaying
+and towering over her. The girl's eyes looked back unwaveringly.
+
+"---- you!" growled Reivers as he bent down and loosed the thongs. "What
+do you mean? Why aren't you afraid?"
+
+"MacGregor Roy was my father," she said quietly. "I am not afraid." She
+sat up as the bonds fell from her and looked at the still figure in the
+snow. "He is dead, I suppose?"
+
+"As dead as he tried to make me," sneered Reivers.
+
+A look of annoyance crossed her face.
+
+"Then you have spoiled it all," she broke out, leaping from the sledge.
+"Spoiled the fine chance I had to find the cave of Shanty Moir, murderer
+of my father."
+
+Reivers' jaw dropped in amazement, and hot anger surged to his tongue.
+Many women of many kinds he had looked in the eyes and this was the
+first one--
+
+"Spoiled it, you red-haired trull! What do you mean? Didn't I save you
+from our bearded friend yonder. Or--" his thin lips curled into their old
+contemptuous smile--"or perhaps--perhaps you are one of those to whom such
+attentions are not distasteful."
+
+The sudden flare and flash of her anger breaking, like lightning out of
+a Winter's sky, checked his words. The contempt of his smile gave place
+to a grin of admiration. Tottering and wavering on his feet, he did not
+stir or raise his arms, though the thin-bladed knife which seemed to
+spring into her hands as claws protrude from a maddened cat's paws,
+slipped through his mackinaw and pricked the skin above his heart,
+before her hand stopped.
+
+"'Trull' am I? The daughter of MacGregor Roy is a helpless squaw who
+takes kindly to such words from any man on the trail? Blood o' my
+father! Pray, you cowardly skulker! Pray!"
+
+His grin grew broader.
+
+"Pretty, very pretty!" he drawled. "But you can't make it good, can you?
+You thought you could. Your little flare of temper made you feel big.
+You were sure you were going to stick me. But you couldn't do it. You're
+a woman. See; your flash of bigness is dying out. You're growing tame.
+That's one of my specialties--taming spitfires like you. Oh, you needn't
+draw back. Have no fear. I never did have any taste for red hair."
+
+A painter would have raved about the daughter of MacGregor Roy as she
+now stood back, facing her tormentor. The fair skin of her face was
+flushed red, the thin sharp lines of mouth and nostril were tremulous
+with rage, and her wide, grey eyes burned. Her head was thrown back in
+scorn, her cap was off; the glorious red-golden hair of her head seemed
+alive with fury. With one foot advanced, the knife held behind her, her
+breath coming in angry gasps, she stood, a figure passionately, terribly
+alive in the dead waste of the snows.
+
+"Oh, what a coward you are!" she panted. "You knew I couldn't avenge
+myself on a sick man. You coward!"
+
+Reivers laughed drunkenly. The fever was blurring his sight, dulling his
+brain and filling him with an irresistible desire to lie down.
+
+"Yes, I knew it," he mumbled. "I saw it in your eye. You couldn't do
+it--because I didn't want you to. I want you--I want you to fix me up--hole
+in the shoulder--fever--understand?"
+
+"I understand that when Duncan Roy, my father's brother, catches up with
+us he will save me the trouble by putting a hole through your head."
+
+"Plenty of time for that later on." Reivers fought off the stupor and
+held his senses clear for a moment. "Have you got my whisky?"
+
+"And what if I have?"
+
+"Answer me!" he said icily. "Have you?"
+
+"Duncan Roy has whisky," she replied reluctantly. "He will be on our
+trail now."
+
+"How long--how long before he'll get here?"
+
+"Yon beast--" she nodded her head toward the still figure in the
+snow--"raided our camp, struck me down and stole me away with my team two
+hours before sundown, yestere'en. Duncan Roy was out meat-hunting, and
+would be back by dark. He'll be two hours behind us, and his dogs travel
+even with these."
+
+"Two hours? Too long," groaned Reivers and pitched headlong into the
+snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV--THE WOMAN'S WAY
+
+
+When he came to, it was from the bite and sting of the terrible white
+whisky of the North, being poured down his throat by a rude, generous
+hand.
+
+"Aye; he's no' dead," rumbled a voice like unto a bear's growl. "He
+lappit the liquor though his eye's closed. Hoot, man! Ye take it in like
+mother's milk."
+
+"Have done, Uncle Duncan," warned another voice--the bold, free voice of
+the girl, Reivers in his semi-consciousness made out. "'Tis a sick man.
+Don't give him the whole bottle."
+
+"Let be, let be," grumbled the big voice, but nevertheless Reivers felt
+the bottle withdrawn from his lips. "'Tis no tender child that a good
+drink of liquor would hurt that we have here. Do you not note that mouth
+and jaw? I'm little more pleased with the look of him than with yon
+thing in the snow."
+
+"'Tis a sick, helpless being," said the girl.
+
+The big voice rumbled forth an oath.
+
+"And what have we--you and I--to do with sick, helpless beings? Are we not
+on the trail to find Shanty Moir, who is working your father's mine,
+wherever it is, and there take vengeance on said Shanty for your
+father's murder, as well as recover your own property? Is this a trail
+on which 'tis fit and well we halted to nurse and care for sick,
+helpless beings? Blood of the de'il! An unlucky mess! What business has
+man to be sick and ailing on the Winter trail here in the North? 'Tis
+the law of Nature that such die!"
+
+"And do you think that law will be followed here?" demanded the girl.
+
+"Were I alone, it would," retorted the man. "Our task is to find the
+place of Shanty Moir and do him justice."
+
+"And the hospitality of the MacGregors? Is it like Duncan Roy to see
+beast or man needing or wanting help without stretching his hand to help
+it?"
+
+The man was silent.
+
+"Do you think any good could come to you or me if we turned our hearts
+to stones and let a sick man perish after he had fallen helpless on our
+hands?"
+
+"I tell you what I think, Hattie MacGregor," broke out the big voice. "I
+think there is trouble travelling as trail-fellow with this man. I see
+trouble in the cut of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. There is a
+fate written there; he's a fated man and no else, and nothing would
+please me better than to have him a thousand days mushing away from me
+and never to see him again. Trouble and trouble! It's written on him
+plain.
+
+"Who is he? Whence came he? Why is he alone, dogless, foodless,
+weaponless, here in these Dead Lands! 'Tis uncanny. Blood o' the de'il!
+He might be dropped down from somewhere, or more like shot up from
+somewhere--from the black pit, for instance. It's no' proper for mere
+human being to be found in his condition out this far on the barrens,
+with no sign of how he came or why?"
+
+"Have no fear, Uncle Duncan," laughed the girl. "He's only a common
+man."
+
+Reivers opened his eyes, chuckling feverishly.
+
+"You'll pay for that 'common,' you spitfire, when I've tamed you," he
+mumbled.
+
+"Only a common man, Uncle Duncan," repeated the girl steadfastly, "and
+I've a bone to pick with him when he's on his feet, no longer helpless
+and pitiable as he is now."
+
+Again Reivers laughed through the haze of fever. He did not have the
+strength to hold his eyes open, but his mind worked on.
+
+"Helpless! Did you notice the incident of the rock?" he babbled. "Bare,
+primitive, two-handed man against a man with a gun. Who won?"
+
+"Aye," said the man seriously, "we owe you thanks for that. For a
+helpless man, you deal stout knocks."
+
+"And speak big words," snapped the girl. "Now, around with the teams,
+Uncle Duncan, and back to camp. There's been talk enough. We must take
+him in and shelter and care for him, since he has fallen helpless and
+pitiable on our hands. We owe him no thanks. Can you not lay his head
+easier--the boasting fool! There; that's better. Now, all that the dogs
+can stand, Uncle, for I misdoubt we'll be hard-pressed to keep the life
+in him till we get him back to camp."
+
+Reivers heard and strove to reply. But the paralysis of fever and
+weakness was upon him, and all that came from his lips was an incoherent
+babbling. In the last vapoury stages of consciousness he realised that
+he was being placed more comfortably upon the sledge, that his head was
+being lifted and that blankets were being strapped about him.
+
+He felt the sledge being turned, heard the runners grate on the snow;
+then ensued an easy, sliding movement through space, as the rested dogs
+started their lope back through the valley. The movement soothed him. It
+lulled him to a sensation of safety and comfort.
+
+The phantasmagoria of fever pounded at his brain, his eyes and ears, but
+the steady, swishing rush of the sleigh drove them away. He slept, and
+awoke when a halt was called and more whisky forced down his throat.
+Then he slept again.
+
+There were several halts. Once he realised that he was being fed thin
+soup, made from cooked venison and snow-water. That was the last
+impression made on remaining consciousness. After that the thread
+snapped.
+
+The sledges went on. They left the valley. Through the jumbled ridges of
+the Dead Lands they hurried. They reached a stretch of stunted fir, and
+still they continued to go. At length they pulled up before a solid
+little cabin built in a cleft of rocks.
+
+The Snow Burner was carried in and put to bed. After a rest Duncan Roy
+and the fresher of the dogteams took the trail again. They came, back
+after a day and a night, bringing with them a certain P�re Batiste,
+skilled in treating fevers and wounds of the body as well as of the
+soul. The good cur� gasped at the torso which revealed itself to his
+gaze as he stripped off the clothes to work at the wound.
+
+"If le bon Dieu made him as well inside as outside, this is a very good
+man," he said simply; and Duncan MacGregor smiled grimly.
+
+"God--or the de'il--made him to deal stout knocks, that's sure," he
+grunted. "'Tis a rare animal we have stripped before us."
+
+"A rare human being--a soul," reproved Father Batiste. "And it is le bon
+Dieu who makes us all."
+
+"But the de'il gets hold of some very young," insisted the Scotchman.
+
+Father Batiste stayed in the cabin for two days.
+
+"He was not meant to die this time," he said later. "It will be
+long--weeks perhaps--before he will be strong enough to take the trail. He
+will need care, such care as only a woman can give him. If he does not
+have this care he will die. If he does have it he will live. Adieu, my
+children; you have a sacred, human life in your hands."
+
+And he got the care that only a woman could give him. For the next two
+weeks Duncan MacGregor watched his niece's devoted nursing and gnawed
+his red beard gloomily.
+
+"Trouble--trouble--trouble!" he muttered over and over to himself. "It
+rides around the man's head like a storm-cap. Hattie MacGregor, take
+care. Yon man will be a different creature to handle when he has the
+strength back in his body."
+
+At the end of a week Reivers awoke as a man wakes after a long,
+fever-breaking slumber, weak and wasted, yet with a grateful sense of
+comfort and well-being. Before he opened his eyes he sensed by the
+warmth and odours of the air that he was in a small, tight room, and in
+a haze he fancied that he had fallen in the tepee of Tillie, the squaw.
+Then he remembered. He opened his eyes.
+
+He was lying in a bunk, raised high from the floor, and above the foot
+of the bed was a small window, shaded by a frilled white curtain.
+Reivers lay long and looked at the curtain before his eyes moved to
+further explore the room. For once, long, long ago, he had belonged in a
+world where white frilled curtains and frills of other kinds were not an
+exception.
+
+In his physically washed-out condition his memory reached back and
+pictured that world with uncanny clearness, and he turned from the
+curtain with a frown of annoyance to look straight into the eyes of
+Duncan Roy, who sat by the fireplace across the room and studied him
+from beneath shaggy red brows.
+
+Reivers looked the man over idly at first, then with a considerable
+interest and appreciation. Sitting crouched over on a low stone bench,
+with the light of the fire and of the sun upon him, MacGregor resembled
+nothing so much as an old red-haired bear. He was short of leg and
+bow-legged, but his torso and head were enormous. His arms, folded
+across the knees, were bear-like in length and size, and his hair and
+beard flamed golden red.
+
+There was no friendliness in the small, grey eyes which regarded Reivers
+so steadily. Duncan MacGregor was no man to hide his true feelings.
+Reivers looked enquiringly around.
+
+"She's stepped outside to feed the dogs," said MacGregor, interpreting
+the look. "You'll have to put up with my poor company for the time
+being."
+
+"I accept your apology," said Reivers and turned comfortably toward the
+wall.
+
+A deep, chesty chuckle came from the fireside.
+
+"Man, whoever are you or whatever are you, to take it that Duncan
+MacGregor feels any need to apologise to you?"
+
+The words were further balm to Reivers's new-found feeling of comfort
+and content.
+
+"Say that again, please," he requested drowsily.
+
+Laughingly the giant by the fire repeated his query.
+
+"Good!" murmured Reivers. "I just wanted to be sure that you didn't know
+who I am--or, rather, who I was?"
+
+"Blood o' the de'il!" laughed the Scotchman. "So it's that, is it? Tell
+me, how much reward is there offered for you, dead or alive? I'm a
+thrifty man, lad, and you hardly look like a man who'd have a small
+price on his head."
+
+"Wrong, quite wrong, my suspicious friend," said Reivers. "I see you've
+the simple mind of the man who's spent much time in lone places. You
+jump at the natural conclusion. When you know me better you'll know that
+that won't apply to me."
+
+"Well," drawled the Scotchman good-naturedly, "I do not say that it
+looks suspicious to be found a two-days' march out in the Dead Lands,
+without food, dog, or weapons, with an empty belly and a hole through
+the shoulder, but there are people who might draw the conclusion that a
+man so fixed was travelling because some place behind him was mighty bad
+for his health. But I have no doubt you have an explanation? No doubt
+'tis quite the way you prefer to travel?"
+
+"Under certain circumstances, it is," said Reivers.
+
+"Aye; under certain circumstances. Such as an affair with a 'Redcoat,'
+for instance."
+
+"Wrong again, my simple-minded friend. You're quite welcome to bring the
+whole Mounted Police here to look me over. I'm not on their lists, or
+the lists of any authority in the world, as 'wanted.'"
+
+"For that insult--that I'm of the kind that bears tales to the
+police--I'll have an accounting with you later on," said MacGregor
+sharply. "For the rest--you'll admit that you're under some small
+obligation to us--will you be kind enough to explain what lay behind you
+that you should be out on the barrens in your condition? I'll have you
+know that I am no man to ask pay for succouring the sick or wounded.
+Neither am I the man to let any well man be near-speaking with my ward
+and niece, Hattie MacGregor, without I know what's the straight of him."
+
+Reivers turned luxuriously in his bunk and regarded his inquisitor with
+a smile.
+
+"Poor, dainty, helpless, little lady!" he mocked. "So weak and frail
+that she needs a protector. Never carries anything more than an
+eight-inch knife up her sleeve. You do right, MacGregor; your niece
+certainly needs looking after. She certainly doesn't know how to take
+care of herself.
+
+"But about obligations, I don't quite agree with you. Didn't you owe me
+a little something for that turn with the bearded fellow? Not that I did
+it to save the girl," he continued loudly, as he heard the door open
+behind him and knew that Hattie MacGregor had entered. "What was she to
+me? Nothing! But I was hungry. I needed food. But for that our
+black-bearded friend might now have been wandering care-free over the
+snows, a red-haired woman still strapped to his sledge, his taste
+seeming to run to that colour, which mine does not."
+
+Hattie MacGregor stilled her uncle's retort with a shake of her
+golden-red head, crossed to the fireplace and took up a bowl that was
+simmering there, and approached the bed. Reivers looked at her closely,
+striving to catch her eye, but she seated herself beside him without
+apparently paying the slightest attention. She spoke no word, made no
+sign to welcome him back from his unconsciousness, but merely held a
+spoonful of the steaming broth up to his lips.
+
+There was a certain dexterity in her movements which told that she had
+performed this action many, many times before, and there was nothing in
+her manner to indicate her sensibility of the change in his condition.
+Reivers opened his mouth to laugh, and the girl dexterously tilted the
+contents of the spoon down his throat.
+
+"You fool!" he sputtered, half strangling.
+
+He strove to rise, but her round, warm arm held him down. Over by the
+fireplace Duncan MacGregor slapped his thigh and chuckled deep down in
+his hairy throat, but on the face of his niece there was only the
+determined patience of the nurse dealing with a patient not yet entirely
+responsible for his behaviour.
+
+She was not surprised at his outbreak, Reivers saw. Apparently she had
+fed him many times just so--he utterly helpless and childish, she capable
+and calm. Apparently she was determined to sit there, firm and patient,
+until he was ready to take his broth quietly and without fuss.
+
+Indignantly he raised his hands to take the bowl from her; then he
+opened his eyes wide in surprise. He was so weak that he could barely
+lift his arms, and when she offered him a second spoonful he swallowed
+it without further demur.
+
+"Ah, well, we'll soon be able to take the trail again," drawled
+MacGregor mockingly. "We're getting strong now; soon we'll be able to
+eat with our own hands."
+
+"Hold tongue, Uncle," snapped the girl, and continued to feed her
+patient.
+
+"I suppose I must thank you?" taunted Reivers, when the bowl was empty.
+
+Hattie MacGregor made no sign to indicate that she had heard. She put
+the bowl away, felt Reivers' pulse, laid her hand upon his
+forehead--never looking at him the while--arranged the pillows under his
+head, tucked him in and without speaking went out. Reivers' eyes
+followed her till the door closed behind her.
+
+"The little spitfire!" he growled in grudging admiration; and Duncan
+MacGregor, by the fire, laughed till the room echoed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV--GOLD!
+
+
+Next morning when she came to feed him Reivers angrily reached for the
+bowl. He was stronger than the day before, and he held his hands forth
+without trembling.
+
+"There's no need of your feeding me by hand any longer," said he. "I
+assure you I'll enjoy my food much better alone than I do with you
+feeding me."
+
+The girl seated herself at the bunk-side, holding the bowl out of his
+reach, and looked him quietly in the eyes. It was the first time she had
+appeared to notice his return to consciousness, and Reivers smiled
+quizzically at her scrutiny. She did not smile in return, merely studied
+him as if he were an interesting subject.
+
+In the grey light of morning Reivers for the first time saw her with
+eyes cleared of the fever blur. His smile vanished, for he saw that this
+woman, to him, was different from any woman he ever had known before.
+And he had known many.
+
+In her wide grey eyes there rode a sorrow that reached out and held the
+observer, despite her evident efforts to keep it hidden. But the mouth
+belied the eyes. It was set with an expression of determination, almost
+superhuman, almost savage. It was as if this girl, just rounding her
+twenties, had turned herself into a force for the accomplishment of an
+object. The mouth was harsh, almost lipless, in its set. Yet, beneath
+all this, the woman in Hattie MacGregor was obvious, soft, yearning.
+
+Many women had had a part in Reivers' life--far too many. None of them
+had held his interests longer than for a few months; none of them had he
+failed to tame and break. And none of them had reached below the hard
+husk of him and touched the better man as Hattie MacGregor did at this
+moment. His past experiences, his past attitude toward women, his past
+manner of life, flashed through his mind, each picture bringing with it
+a stab of remorse.
+
+Remorse! The Snow Burner remorseful! He laughed his old laugh of
+contempt and defiance of all the world, but, though he refused to
+acknowledge it to himself, the old, invincible, self-assured ring was
+not in it. This girl was not to him what other women had been, and he
+saw that he could not tame her as he had tamed them.
+
+Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wished that the past had been
+different. He actually felt unworthy. Well, the past was past. It had
+died with him in the river. He was beginning a new life, a new name, a
+new man. Why couldn't he? He drove the weak thoughts away. What
+nonsense! He--Hell-Camp Reivers--getting soft over a woman? Pooh!
+
+"I said I could feed myself," he snarled. "Give me that bowl. I don't
+want you around."
+
+For reply she dipped the spoon into the food and held it ready.
+
+"Lie down quietly, please," she said coldly. "This is no time for
+keeping up your play of being a big man."
+
+"Give me that bowl," he commanded.
+
+"Uncle," she called quietly.
+
+Her big kinsman came lurching in from the other room of the cabin.
+
+"Aye, lass?" said he.
+
+"It looks as if we would have to obey Father Batiste's directions and
+feed him by force," said the girl quietly. "He has come out of the
+fever, but he hasn't got his senses back. He thinks of feeding himself.
+Do you get the straps, Uncle. You recollect Father Batiste's orders."
+
+Duncan MacGregor scratched his hairy head in puzzled fashion.
+
+"How now, stranger?" he growled. "Can you no take your food in peace?"
+
+"I can take it without anybody's help," insisted Reivers. He knew that
+the situation was ridiculous, but he saw no way of getting the
+whip-hand.
+
+"It was the word of the good Father, without whom you would now be
+resting out in the snow with a cairn of rock over you, that you should
+be fed so much and so little for some days after your senses come back,"
+said MacGregor slowly. "I do not ken the right of it quite, but the lass
+does. The lass--she'll have her way, I suspect. I can do naught but obey
+her orders."
+
+"Get the straps," commanded the girl curtly.
+
+Reivers glared at her, but she looked back without the least losing her
+self-possession or determination.
+
+"You'll pay for this!" he snorted.
+
+"Will you take your food without the straps?" said she.
+
+For a minute their eyes met in conflict.
+
+"Oh, don't be ridiculous," snapped Reivers. "Have your silly way."
+
+"Good. That's a good boy," she said softly; and Duncan Roy ran from the
+room choking.
+
+"You see," she continued, as he swallowed the first spoonful, "it isn't
+always possible to have your own way, is it? I am doing this only for
+your own good."
+
+"Hold your tongue," he growled. "I've got to eat this food, but I don't
+have to listen to your talk."
+
+"Quite right," she agreed, and the meal was finished in silence.
+
+At noon she fed him again, without speaking a word. Apparently she had
+given her uncle orders likewise to refrain from talking to Reivers, for
+not a word did he speak during the day.
+
+In the evening the same silent feeding took place. After she and her
+uncle had supped, they drew up to the fireplace, where, in silence,
+Duncan repaired a dog-harness while the girl sewed busily at a fur coat.
+At short intervals the uncle cast a look toward Reivers' bunk, then
+choked a chuckle in his beard, each chuckle bringing a glance of reproof
+from his niece.
+
+"No, Hattie," MacGregor broke out finally, "I cannot hold tongue any
+longer. Company is no' so plentiful in the North that we can sit by and
+have no speech. Do you keep still if you wish--I must talk. Stranger, are
+you going to tell me about yoursel', as I asked you yestereve?"
+
+"Does her Royal Highness, the Red-Headed Chieftainess, permit me to
+speak?" queried Reivers sarcastically.
+
+"'Twas your own sel' told me to hold tongue," said the girl evenly,
+without looking up. "I am glad to see you are reasonable enough to give
+in."
+
+"Let be, Hattie," grumbled the old man. "He's our guest, and we in his
+debt. Stranger, who are you?"
+
+"Nobody," said Reivers.
+
+"Ah!" cried the girl. "Now he's come to his senses, sure enough."
+
+"Hattie!" said the old man ominously. "I beg pardon for her uncivility,
+stranger."
+
+"Never mind," said Reivers lightly. "Apparently she doesn't know any
+better. Speaking to you, sir, I am nobody. I'm as much nobody as a child
+born yesterday. My life--as far as you're concerned--began up there on the
+rocks in the Dead Lands.
+
+"I died just a few days before that--died as effectively as if a dozen
+preachers had read the service over me. You don't understand that.
+You've got a simple mind. But I tell you I'm beginning a new life as
+completely as if there was no life behind me, and as you know all that's
+happened in this new life, you see there's nothing for me to tell you
+about myself."
+
+"You died," repeated the old man slowly. "I'll warrant you had a good
+reason."
+
+"A fair one. I wanted to live. I died to save my life."
+
+"Speak plain!" growled MacGregor. "You were not fleeing from the law?"
+
+"No--as I told you yesterday. The only law I was fleeing from was the
+good old one that cheap men make when they become a mob."
+
+"I tak' it they had a fair reason for becoming a mob?"
+
+"The best in the world," agreed Reivers. "They wanted to kill me. Now,
+why they wanted to do that is something that belongs to my other
+life--with the other man--has nothing at all to do with this man--with
+me--and therefore I am not going to tell you anything about it, except
+this: I didn't come away with anything that belonged to them, except
+possibly my life."
+
+MacGregor nodded sagely as Reivers ended.
+
+"And his own bare life a man has a right to get away with if he can,
+even though it's property forfeited to others," he said. "I suppose you
+have, or had, a name?"
+
+"I did. I haven't now; I haven't thought of one that would please me."
+
+"How would the 'Woman Tamer' suit you?" asked the girl, without pausing
+in her sewing. "You remember you told me one of your specialties was
+taming spitfires like me?"
+
+Reivers smiled.
+
+"I am glad to see that you've become sufficiently interested in me, Miss
+MacGregor, to select me a name."
+
+"Interested!" she flared; then subsided and bent over her sewing. "I
+will speak no more, Uncle," she said meekly.
+
+"Good!" sneered Reivers. "Your manners are improving. And now, Mr.
+MacGregor, what about yourselves, and your brother, and a mine, and a
+man named Moir that I've heard you speak of?"
+
+Duncan MacGregor tossed a fresh birch chunk into the fire and carefully
+poked the coals around it. Outside, the dogs, burrowing in the snow,
+sent up to the sky their weird night-cry, a cry of prayer and protest,
+protest against the darkness and mystery of night, prayer for the return
+of the light of day. A wind sprang up and whipped dry snow against the
+cabin window, and to the sound of its swishing wail Duncan MacGregor
+began to speak.
+
+"Little as you've seen fit to tell about yourself, stranger," he said,
+"'tis plain from your behaviour out on the rocks that you're no man of
+that foul Welsh cutthroat and thief, Shanty Moir. For the manner in
+which you dealt with yon man, we owe you a debt."
+
+"We owe him nothing," interrupted the niece. "Had he not interfered, I
+would have found the way to Shanty Moir."
+
+"But as how?"
+
+"What matter as how? What matter what happens to me if I could find what
+has become of my father and bring justice to the head of Shanty Moir?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+"We owe you a debt," he continued, speaking to Reivers, "and can not
+refuse to tell you how it is with us. It is no pleasant situation we are
+in, as you may have judged. My brother, father of Hattie, is--or was, we
+do not know which--James MacGregor, 'Red' MacGregor so-called in this
+land, therefore MacGregor Roy, as is all our breed. You would have heard
+of him did you belong in this country.
+
+"Ten year ago we built this cabin, he and I, and settled down to trap
+the country, for the fur here is good. Five year ago a Cree half-breed
+gave James a sliver of rock to weight a net with, and the rock, curse it
+forever, was over half gold. The breed could not recall where the rock
+had come from, save that he had chucked it into his canoe some place up
+north.
+
+"James MacGregor stopped trapping then. He began to look for the spot
+where the gilty rock came from. Three years he looked and did not find
+it. Two years ago Shanty Moir came down the river and bided here, and
+Moir was a prospector among other things. Together they found it, after
+nearly two years looking together; for James took this Moir into
+partnership, and that was the unlucky day of his life."
+
+MacGregor kicked savagely at the fire and sat silent for several
+minutes.
+
+"Six months gone they found it," he continued dully, "in the Summer
+time. They came in for provisions--for provisions for all Winter. A
+deposit for two men to work, they said. My brother would not even tell
+me where they found it. The gold had got into his brain. It was his
+life's blood to him. We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder."
+
+He embraced the whole North with a despairing sweep of his long arms and
+continued:
+
+"Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone, to dig out the gold,
+the two of them, my brother, James, and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty
+Moir. For foul he has proven. In three months my brother had promised he
+would be back to say all was well with him. We have had no word, no word
+in these many months.
+
+"But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have heard of him. At Fifty
+Mile, and at Dumont's Camp he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across
+the bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king of the richest
+deposit in the North, and offering to kill any man who offers to follow
+his trail to his holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must mean
+only one thing--the cut-throat Moir has done my brother to death and is
+flourishing on the gold that drew James MacGregor to his doom.
+
+"Well," he went on harshly, "what men have found others can find. We
+have sent word broadcast that we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings,
+and that I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting that
+will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes me the rest of my
+life."
+
+"And mine," interjected the girl hotly. "Shanty Moir is mine, and I take
+toll for my father's life. It's no matter what comes to me, if I can
+bring justice to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my father. My
+hand--my own hand will take toll when we run the dog to earth."
+
+In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully.
+
+"I've a good notion to go hunting this Moir and bring him to you just to
+see if you could make those words good," said he. "With your own hand,
+eh? You'd fail, of course, at the last moment, being a woman, but it
+would almost be worth while getting this Moir for you to see what you'd
+do. Yes, it would be an interesting experiment."
+
+It was the girl's turn to laugh now, her laughter mocking his.
+
+"'Twould be interesting to see what you would do did you stand face to
+face with Shanty Moir," she sneered. "Yes, 'twould be an interesting
+experiment--to see how you'd crawl. For this can be said of the villain,
+Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men to get help from women. You
+bring Shanty Moir in! How would you do it--with your mouth?"
+
+"On second thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make any
+man listen to your tongue," concluded Reivers solemnly.
+
+MacGregor growled and shook his head.
+
+"There's no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black heart is a hard-grown,
+experienced man," said he. "Henchmen of his--three of them, Welshmen
+all--came through here while James and he were hunting the mine, and he
+treated them like dogs and they him like a chieftain. 'Twas one of them
+you slew with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain: Shanty
+Moir has got word to them and they have come to the mine and overpowered
+my brother James. You may judge of the strong hand he holds over his men
+when a single one of them dares to raid my camp in my absence and steal
+the daughter of James MacGregor for his chieftain--a strong, big man.
+'Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He will die hard."
+
+"Also--being of a thrifty breed--you won't feel sorry at getting hold of
+whatever gold he's taken out," suggested Reivers.
+
+"That's understood," said MacGregor, and put a fresh chunk on the fire
+for the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI--THE LOOK IN A WOMAN'S EYES
+
+
+Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had fed him his morning's meal,
+said casually to Reivers:
+
+"You have about six days more to pump my uncle and get all he knows
+about my father's mine. In six days you should be strong enough to
+travel, and so long and no longer do I keep you."
+
+"Six days?" repeated Reivers. "I may take it into my head to start
+before."
+
+"And that's all the good that would do you," she replied promptly. "You
+don't go from here until you are firm on your feet, and that will be six
+days, about."
+
+"Your interest flatters me," he mocked.
+
+"Interest!" Her laugh was bitter. "No stray, wounded cur even goes from
+this camp till he's fit to rustle a living on the trail. I could do no
+less even for you."
+
+"And if I should make up my mind and go?"
+
+"I would shoot you if necessary to keep you here till my duty by you is
+done!"
+
+"You spitfire!" laughed Reivers, hiding the admiration that leaped into
+his eyes. "And what makes you think I'm going hunting for this alleged
+mine when I depart from your too warm hospitality?"
+
+"Pooh! 'Tis easy enough to see that you're that kind--you with your long,
+hungry nose! I was watching you when my uncle babbled away last night.
+You've naught a thing in the world but the clothes you stand in. What
+would you do but go snooping around when you hear of gold? I see it in
+your mean eyes. Well, seek all you please. You're welcome. You'll not
+interfere with our quest. In the first place, you have not the heart to
+stay on the trail long enough to succeed; in the second, you'd
+back-track quick enough did you once come face to face with Shanty
+Moir."
+
+"And you--I suppose this bad man, Shanty Moir, will quail when he sees
+your red hair? Or perhaps you expect to charm him as you charmed the
+gentleman who had you tied on the sledge?"
+
+"I do not know that," she said without irritation. "But I do know that
+my uncle and I will run Shanty Moir to earth, and that he will pay in
+full for the wrong he has done."
+
+"You silly, childish fool!" he broke out. "Haven't you brains enough to
+realise what an impossible wild-goose chase you're on? Since it took
+your father five years to find the mine, you ought to realise that it's
+pretty hard to locate. Since he didn't find it until this Moir, a
+prospector, came to help him, you ought to understand that it takes a
+miner to find it.
+
+"You're no miner. Your uncle is no miner. You've neither of you had the
+slightest experience in this sort of thing. You wouldn't know the signs
+if you saw them. You'll go wandering aimlessly around, maybe walking
+over Shanty Moir's head; because, since nobody has stumbled across his
+camp, it must be so well hidden that it can't be seen unless you know
+right where to look. Find it! You're a couple of children!"
+
+"Mayhap. But we are not so aimless as you may think. We go to Fifty Mile
+and to Dumont's Camp and stay. Sooner or later Shanty Moir will come
+there, to throw my father's gold over the bars and to worse. It may be a
+month, a year--it doesn't make any difference. But I suppose a great man
+like you has a quicker and surer way of doing it?"
+
+"I have," said Reivers.
+
+"No doubt. I could see your eyes grow greedy when you heard my uncle
+tell of gold."
+
+"Oh, no; not especially," taunted Reivers. "The gold is an incident.
+Shanty Moir is what interests me. He seems to be a gentleman of parts.
+I'm going to get him. I'm going to bring you face to face with him. I
+want to see if you could make good the strong talk you've been dealing
+out as to what you would do. You interest me that way, Miss MacGregor,
+and that way only. It will be an interesting experiment to get you
+Shanty Moir."
+
+"Thank Heaven!" she said grimly. "We'll soon be rid of you and your big
+talk. Then I can forget that any man gave me the name you gave me and
+lived to brag about it afterward."
+
+He laughed, as one laughs at a petulant child.
+
+"You will never forget me," he said. "You know that you will not forget
+me, if you live a thousand years."
+
+"I have forgotten better men than you," she said and went out, slamming
+the door.
+
+That evening Reivers sat up by the fire and further plied old MacGregor
+with questions concerning the mine.
+
+"You say that your brother claimed the mine lay to the north," he said.
+"I suppose you have searched the north first of all?"
+
+"For a month I have done nothing else," was the reply. "I have not gone
+far enough north. My brother James said it lay north from here; and
+'twas north he and Shanty Moir went when they started on their last trip
+together, from which my brother did not return or send word."
+
+"Dumont's Camp and Fifty Mile, where Moir's been on sprees; lay to the
+west."
+
+"Northwest, aye. Four days' hard mushing to Fifty Mile. Dumont's
+hell-hole's a day beyond."
+
+"And you think the mine lies to the north of that?"
+
+"Aye. More like in a direct line north of here, for 'twas so they went
+when they left here."
+
+Reivers hid the smile of triumph that struggled on his lips. The Dead
+Lands were strange country to him, but in the land north of Fifty Mile
+he was at home. In his wanderings he had spent months in that country in
+company with many other deluded men who thought to dig gold out of the
+bare, frozen tundra. He had found no gold there, and neither had any one
+else. There was no gold up there, could be none there, and, what was
+more important to him just now, there was no rock formation, nothing but
+muskeg and tundra. The mine could not be up north.
+
+It must, however, be within easy mushing distance of Fifty Mile and
+Dumont's Camp, say two or three days, else Shanty Moir would not have
+hied himself to these settlements when the need for riot and wassail
+overcame him.
+
+"You know the ground between here and Fifty Mile, I suppose?" he said
+suddenly.
+
+"'Tis my trapping-ground," replied MacGregor.
+
+So the mine couldn't be east of the settlements. It was to the west or
+the south.
+
+"Your brother was particularly careful to keep the location of his find
+secret even from you?"
+
+"Aye," said MacGregor sorrowfully. "It had gone to his head, he had
+searched so long, and the find was so big. He took no chances that I
+might know it, or his daughter Hattie; only the thief, Shanty Moir."
+
+And he said that the mine lay to the north. That might mean that it lay
+to the south--west or south of the settlements, there his search would
+lie. It was new country to him, and, as MacGregor well knew before he
+gave him his confidence, a man not knowing the land might wander
+aimlessly for years without covering those vast, broken reaches. But
+MacGregor did not know of the Chippewa squaw, Tillie, and her people.
+
+"And now I suppose you will be able to find it soon," snapped Hattie
+MacGregor, "now that you have pumped my uncle dry?"
+
+"I will," said Reivers. "I'll be there waiting for you when you come
+along." And Duncan MacGregor chuckled deeply.
+
+For the remainder of his stay at the cabin, Reivers maintained a sullen
+silence toward the girl. Had she been different, had she affected him
+differently, he would have cursed her for daring to disturb him even to
+this slight extent. But he knew that if she had been different she would
+not have disturbed him at all. Well, he would soon be away, and then he
+would forget her.
+
+He had an object again. His nature was such that he craved power and
+dominance over men, as another man craves food. He would not live at all
+unless he had power. He had used this power too ruthlessly at
+Cameron-Dam Camp, and it had been wrested from him. For the time being
+he was down among the herd. But not for long.
+
+Shanty Moir had a mine some place south or west of the settlements, and
+the mine yielded gold nuggets and gold dust for Shanty Moir to fling
+across the bars. Gold spells power. Given gold, Reivers would have back
+his old-time power over men, aye, and over women. Not merely a power up
+there in the frozen North, but in the world to which he had long ago
+belonged: the world of men in dress clothes, of lights and soft rugs, or
+women, soft-speaking women, shimmery gowns and white shoulders, their
+eyes and apparel a constant invitation to the great adventure of love.
+
+After all, that was the world that he belonged in. And gold would give
+him power there, and in that whirl he would forget this red-haired,
+semi-savage who looked him in the eye as no other woman ever had dared.
+His fists clenched as his thoughts lighted up the future. The
+Snow-Burner had died, but he would live again, and he would forget,
+absolutely and completely, Hattie MacGregor.
+
+On the morning of the sixth day Duncan MacGregor gravely placed before
+him outside the cabin door a pair of light snowshoes and a grub-bag
+filled with food for four days. Reivers strapped on the snowshoes and
+ran his arms through the bagstraps without a word.
+
+"Stranger," said MacGregor, holding out his hand, "I did not like you
+when first I saw you. I do not say I like you now. But--shake hands."
+
+Reivers hurriedly shook hands and tore himself away. He had resolved to
+go without seeing Hattie, and he was inwardly raging at himself because
+he found this resolution hard to keep. He laid his course for the
+nearest rise of land, half a mile away. Once over the rise the cabin
+would be shut out of sight, and even though he should weaken and look
+back there would be no danger of letting her see.
+
+Bent far over, head down, lunging along with the cunning strides of the
+trained snowshoer, he topped the rise and dropped down on the farther
+side. There he paused to rest himself and draw breath, and as he stood
+there Hattie MacGregor and her dog-team swept at right angles across his
+trail.
+
+She was riding boy-fashion, half sitting, half lying, on the empty
+sledge, driving the dogs furiously for their daily exercise. She did not
+speak. She merely looked up at him as she went past. Then she was gone
+in a flurry of snow, and Reivers went forth on his quest of power with a
+curse on his lips and in his heart the determination that no weakening
+memories of a girl's wistful eyes should interfere with his aim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII--ON THE TRAIL OF FORTUNE
+
+
+Reivers travelled steadily for an hour at the best pace that was in him.
+It was not a good pace, for he was far from being in his old physical
+condition, and the lift and swing of a snowshoe will cramp the calves
+and ankle-tendons of a man grown soft from long bed-lying, no matter how
+cunning may be his stride.
+
+He swore a little at first over his slow progress. He was like a wolf,
+suddenly released from a trap, who desires to travel far, swiftly and
+instantly, and who finds that the trap has made him lame.
+
+Reivers wanted to put the MacGregor cabin, and the scenes about it,
+which might remind him of Hattie, behind him with a rush. But the rush,
+he soon found, threatened to cripple him, so he must perforce give it
+up. The trail that he had set out to make was not one that any man,
+least of all one recently convalescent, could hope to cover in a single
+burst of speed.
+
+He was going to the Winter camp of the people of Tillie, the squaw. The
+camp lay somewhere in the northwest. How far away he did not know; and
+it was no part of his plans to arrive at the camp of the Chippewas
+depleted in energy and resource. The role he had set out to play now
+called for the character of the Snow-Burner at his best--dominant,
+unconquerable. Therefore, when he found that his first efforts at speed
+threatened to cripple him with the treacherous snow-shoe cramp, he
+resigned himself to a pace which would have shamed him had he been in
+good condition. It was poor snow-shoeing, but at the end of an hour he
+had placed between himself and all possible sight of Hattie MacGregor
+the first ragged rock-ramparts of the Dead Lands, and he was content.
+
+On the western slope of a low ridge he unstrapped his snow-shoes and sat
+down on a bare boulder for a rest. His heart throbbed nervously from his
+exertion and his lungs gasped weakly. But with each breath of the crisp
+air his strength was coming back to him, and in his head the brains of
+the Snow-Burner worked as of old. He smiled with great
+self-satisfaction. He was not considering his condition, was not
+counting the difficulties that lay in his path. He was merely picturing,
+with lightning-like play of that powerful mental machinery of his, the
+desperate nature of the adventure toward which he was travelling.
+
+It was desperate enough even to thrill Hell-Camp Reivers. For probably
+never did born adventurer set forth of his own free will on a more
+deadly, more hopeless-looking trail. As he sat on the rock there in the
+Dead Lands, Reivers was in better condition than on his flight from
+Cameron-Dam Camp to this extent: the bullet-hole in his shoulder was
+healed, and, he had recuperated from the fever brought on by exposure
+and exhaustion. That was all. He was still the bare man with empty
+hands. He possessed nothing in the world but the clothes he stood in,
+the food on his back and the gift snow-shoes on his feet.
+
+He had not even a knife that might be called a weapon, for the
+case-knife that old MacGregor had given him upon parting could scarcely
+be reckoned such. In this condition he was setting forth--first, to find
+a cunningly hidden mine; second, to take it and keep it for his own from
+one Shanty Moir, who treated his henchmen like dogs and was looked up to
+as a chieftain.
+
+The Snow-Burner lived again as he contemplated the possibilities of a
+clash with Moir. If what the MacGregors had said was true, Shanty Moir
+was a boss man himself. And as instinctively and eagerly as one
+ten-pronged buck tears straight through timber, swamp and water to
+battle with another buck whose deep-voiced challenge proclaims him
+similarly a giant, so Reivers was going toward Shanty Moir.
+
+He leaped to his feet, with flashing eyes, at the thought of what was
+coming. Then he remembered his weakened condition and sat down again.
+For the immediate present, until his full strength returned, he must
+make craft take the place of strength.
+
+When he was ready to start again, Reivers took his bearings from the
+sun, it being a clear day, and laid his trail as straight toward the
+northwest as the formation of the Dead Lands would allow. He slept that
+night by a hot spring. A tiny rivulet ran unfrozen from the spring
+southward down into the maze of barren stone, a thread of dark, steaming
+water, wandering through the white, frozen snow.
+
+Had he been a little less tired with the day's march Reivers might have
+paid more attention to this phenomenon that evening. In the morning he
+awoke with such eagerness to be on toward his adventure that he marched
+off without bestowing on the stream more than a casual glance. And later
+he came to curse his carelessness.
+
+Bearing steadily toward the northwest, his course lay in the Dead Lands
+for the greater part of the day. Shortly before sundown he saw with
+relief that ahead the rocks and ridges gave way to the flat tundra, with
+small clumps of stunted willows dotting the flatness, like tiny islands
+in a sea of snow.
+
+Reivers quickened his pace. Out on the tundra he hurried straight to the
+nearest bunch of willows. Even at a distance of several rods the chewed
+white branches of the willows told him their story, and he gave vent to
+a shout of relief. The caribou had been feeding there. The Chippewas
+lived on the caribou in Winter. He had only to follow the trail of the
+animals and he would soon run across the moccasin tracks of his friends,
+the Indians.
+
+Luck favoured him more than he hoped for. At his shout there was a crash
+in a clump of willows a hundred yards ahead and a bull caribou lumbered
+clumsily into the open. At the sight of him the beast snorted loudly and
+turned and ran. From right and left came other crashes, and in the
+gathering dusk the herd which had been stripping the willows fled in the
+wake of the sentinel bull, their ungainly gait whipping them out of
+sight and hearing in uncanny fashion.
+
+Reivers smiled. The camp of Tillie's people would not be far from the
+feeding ground of the caribou. He ate his cold supper, crawled into the
+shelter of the willows and went to sleep.
+
+Dry, drifting snow half hid the tracks of the caribou during the night,
+and in the morning he was forced to wait for the late-coming daylight
+before picking up the trail. The herd had gone straight westward, and
+Reivers followed the signs, his eyes constantly scanning the snow for
+moccasin tracks or other evidence of human beings.
+
+In the middle of the forenoon, in a birch and willow swamp, he jumped
+the animals again. They caught his scent at a mile's distance, and
+Reivers crouched down and watched avidly as they streaked from the swamp
+to security.
+
+To the north of the swamp lay the open, snow-covered tundra, where even
+the knife-like fore-hoof of the caribou would have hard time to dig out
+a living in the dead of Winter. To the south lay clumps of brush and
+stunted trees, ideal shelter and feed.
+
+The animals went north. Reivers nodded in great satisfaction. There were
+wolves or Indians to the south, probably the latter. Accordingly he
+turned southward. Toward noon he found his first moccasin track,
+evidently the trail of a single hunter who had come northward, but not
+quite far enough, on a hunt for caribou.
+
+The track looped back southward and Reivers trailed it. Soon a set of
+snow-shoe tracks joined the moccasins, and Reivers, after a close
+scrutiny had revealed the Chippewa pattern in the snow, knew that he was
+on the right track. The tracks dropped down on to the bed of a solidly
+frozen river and continued on to the south.
+
+Other tracks became visible. When they gathered together and made a
+hard-packed trail down the middle of the river, Reivers knew that a camp
+was not far away, and grew cautious.
+
+He found the camp as the swift Winter darkness came on, a group of half
+a dozen tepees set snugly in a bend of the river, one large tepee in the
+middle easily recognisable as that of Tillie, the squaw, chief of the
+band.
+
+Reivers sat down to wait. Presently he heard the camp-dogs growling and
+fighting over their evening meal and knew that they would be too
+occupied to notice and announce the approach of a stranger. Also, at
+this time the people of the camp would be in their tepees, supping
+heavily if the hunter's god had been favourably inclined, and gnawing
+the cold bones of yesterday if that irrational deity had been unkind.
+
+By the whining note in the growls of the dogs, Reivers judged that the
+latter was the case this evening; and when he moved forward and stood
+listening outside the flap of the big tepee he knew that it was so.
+Within, an old squaw's treble rose faintly in a whining chant, of which
+Reivers caught the despairing motif:
+
+    Black is the face of the sun, Ah wo!
+    The time has come for the old to die. Ah wo, ah wo!
+    There is meat only to keep alive the young. Ah wo!
+    We who are old must die. Ah wo! Ah wo! Ah wo!
+
+Any other white man but Reivers would have shuddered at the terrible,
+primitive story which the wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was
+with him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters had given up hopes
+of making a kill.
+
+With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap of the tepee. There
+was no noise. Suddenly the old squaw's wail ceased; those in the tepee
+looked up from their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing inside
+the tepee, the flap closed behind him.
+
+There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw, an old man, two young
+hunters, a young girl, and Tillie. They were gathered around the
+fire-stone in the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie, by
+virtue of her position, had the warmest place and the most fish.
+
+No one spoke a word as they became aware of his presence. Only on
+Tillie's face there came a look in which the traces of hunger vanished.
+Reivers stood looking down at the group for a moment in silence. Then he
+strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and sat down in her place. For
+Reivers knew Indians.
+
+"Feed me," he commanded, tossing his grub-bag to her.
+
+He did not look at her as she placed before him the entire contents of
+the bag. Having served him she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting
+his pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply of cold meat
+that remained of his supply. When he had his fill he tossed small
+portions to the old squaw, the old man and the young girl.
+
+"Hunters are mighty," he mocked in the Chippewa tongue, as the young men
+avidly eyed the meat. "They kill what they eat. The meat they do not
+kill would stick in their mighty throats."
+
+Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side and eat what
+remained.
+
+"Men eat meat," he continued, looking over the heads of the two hunters.
+"Old people and children are content with frozen fish. When I was here
+before there were men in this camp. There was meat in the tepees. The
+dogs had meat. Now I see the men are all gone."
+
+One of the hunters raised his arms above his head, a gesture indicating
+strength, and let them fall resignedly to his side, a sign of despair.
+
+"The caribou are gone, Snow-Burner," he said dully. "That is why there
+is no meat. All gone. The god of good kills has turned his face from us.
+Little Bear--" to the old man--"how long have our people hunted the
+caribou here?"
+
+Little Bear lifted his head, his wizened, smoked face more a black,
+carved mask than a human countenance.
+
+"Big Bear, my father, was an old man when I was born," he said slowly.
+"When he was a boy so small that he slept with the women, our people
+came here for the Winter hunt."
+
+"Oh, Little Bear," chanted the hunter, "great was your father, the
+hunter; great were you as a hunter in your young days. Was there ever a
+Winter before when the caribou were not found here in plenty?"
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said the hunter, "these are the words of Little Bear,
+whose age no one knows. Always the caribou have been plenty here along
+this river in the Winter. Longer than any old man's tales reach back
+have they fed upon the willows. They are not here this Winter. The gods
+are angry with us. We hunt. We hunt till we lie flat on the snow. We
+find no signs. There are men still here, Snow-Burner, but the caribou
+have gone."
+
+"Have gone, have gone, have gone. Ah wo!" chanted the old squaw.
+
+"Where do you hunt?" asked Reivers tersely.
+
+"Where we have always hunted; where our fathers hunted before us," was
+the reply. "Along the river in the muskeg and bush to the south we hunt.
+The caribou are not there. They are nowhere. The gods have taken them
+away. We must die and go where they are."
+
+"We must go," wailed the old squaw. "The gods refuse us meat. We must
+go."
+
+Her chant of despair was heard beyond the tepee. In the smaller tents
+other voices took up the wail. The women were singing the death song,
+their primitive protest and acquiescence to what they considered the
+irrevocable pleasure of their dark gods.
+
+Reivers waited until the last squaw had whined herself into silence.
+Even then he did not speak at once. He knew that these simple people,
+who for his deeds had given him the expressive name of Snow-Burner, were
+waiting for him to speak, and he knew the value of silence upon their
+primitive souls. He sat with folded arms, looking above the heads of the
+two hunters.
+
+"You have done well," he said, nodding impressively, but not looking at
+the two young men. "You have hunted as men who have the true hunter's
+heart. But what can man do when the gods are against him? The gods are
+against you. They are not against me. To-morrow I slay you your fill of
+caribou."
+
+"Snow-Burner," whispered one of the hunters in the awe-stricken silence
+that followed this announcement, "there are no caribou here. Are you
+greater than the gods?"
+
+Reivers looked at him, and at the light in his eyes the young man drew
+back in fright.
+
+"To-morrow I give you your fill of meat," he said slowly. "Not only
+enough for one day, but enough for all Winter. Each tepee shall be piled
+high with meat. Even the dogs shall eat till they want no more. I have
+promised. I alone. Do you--" he pointed at the hunters--"bring me to-night
+the two best rifles in the camp. If they do not shoot true to-morrow, do
+not let me find you here when I return from the hunt. And now the rest
+of you--all of you--go from here. Go, I will be alone."
+
+They rose and went out obediently, except Tillie who watched Reivers's
+face with avid eyes as the young girl left the tepee. Then she crawled
+forward and touched her forehead to his hand, for Reivers had not
+bestowed upon the girl a glance.
+
+Presently the hunters came back and placed their Winchesters at his
+feet. He examined each weapon carefully, found them in perfect order and
+fully loaded, and dismissed the men with a wave of his arm. Tillie sat
+with bowed head, humbly waiting his pleasure, but Reivers rolled himself
+in his blanket and lay down alone by the fire.
+
+"I wish to sleep warm," he said. "See that the fire does not go out till
+the night is half gone. Be ready to go with me in the hour before
+daylight. Have the swiftest and strongest team of dogs and the largest
+sledge hitched and waiting to bear us to the hunt. Go! Now I sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII--THE SNOW-BURNER HUNTS
+
+
+The snarling of dogs being put into harness awoke him in the morning,
+but he lay pretending to sleep until Tillie, having overseen the
+hitching-up, came in, prepared food over the fire, which had not gone
+out all night, and came timidly and laid a hand on his shoulder.
+
+It was pitch dark when they went from the tepee. The dogs whined at the
+prospect of a dark trail, and the hunter who held them plied his whip
+savagely. With the rifles carefully stowed in their buckskin cases on
+the sledge, and a big camp-axe, as their whole burden, Reivers
+immediately took command of the dogs and headed down the river.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" chattered the frozen hunter in disappointment. "There
+are no caribou to the south. It is a waste of strength to hunt there."
+
+"There are no caribou anywhere for you," retorted Reivers. "For me it
+does not make any difference where I hunt; the spirits are with me. Stay
+close to the tepees to-day. If any one follows my trail the spirits will
+refuse their help. Hi-yah! Mush!"
+
+Under the sting of his skilfully wielded whip the big team whirled down
+the river, Reivers riding in front, Tillie behind. But they did not go
+south for long. A few miles below the camp Reivers abruptly swung the
+dogs off the river-bed and bore westward.
+
+Half a mile of this and he shifted and changed his course to right
+angles, straight toward the north.
+
+"And now, mush! ---- you! Mush for all that's in you!" he cried, plying
+the whip. "You've got many miles to cover before daylight. Mush, mush!"
+
+He held straight northward until he left the bush and reached the open
+tundra at the spot where the caribou the day before had swung away
+farther north. He knew that the herd, being in a country undisturbed by
+man, would not travel far from the willows where he had jumped them the
+day before, and he held cautiously on their trail until the first grey
+of daylight showed a rise in the land ahead. Here he halted the dogs and
+crept forward on foot.
+
+It was as he expected. The caribou had halted on the other side of the
+height of land, feeling secure in that region where no man ever came.
+Below him he could see them moving, and he realised that he must act at
+once, before they began their travels of the day.
+
+"Tillie," he whispered, coming back to the sledge, "as soon as you can
+see the snow on the knoll ahead do you drive the dogs around there, to
+the right, and swing to the left along the other side of the knoll.
+Drive fast and shout loud. Shout as if the wolves had you. There are
+caribou over the knoll. When the dogs see them let them go straight for
+the herd. But wait till the snow shows white in the daylight."
+
+Snatching both rifles from their covers, he ran around the left shoulder
+of the knoll and ambushed in a trifling hollow. He waited patiently, one
+rifle cocked and in his hand, the other lying ready at his side. The
+light grew broader; the herd, just out of safe rifle shot, began milling
+restlessly.
+
+Suddenly, from around the right of the knoll, came the sharp yelp of a
+dog as Tillie's leader, rounding the ridge, caught scent and sight of
+living meat ahead. The caribou stopped dead. Then bedlam broke loose as
+the dogs saw what was before them. And the caribou, trembling at the
+wolf-yells of the dogs, broke into their swift, lumbering run and came
+streaking straight past Reivers at fifty yards' distance.
+
+Reivers waited until the maddened beasts were running four deep before
+him. Then the slaughter began. No need to watch the sights here. The
+crash of shot upon shot followed as quickly as he could pump the lever.
+There were ten shots in each rifle, and he fired them all before the
+herd was out of range. Then only the hideous yelps of the maddened dogs
+tore the morning quiet. A dozen caribou, some dead, some kicking, some
+trying to crawl away, were scattered over the snow, and Reivers nodded
+and knew that his hold on Tillie's people was complete.
+
+The dogs were on the first caribou now, snarling, yelping, fighting,
+eating, for the time being as wild and savage as any of their wolf
+forebears. Tillie, spilled from the sledge in the first mad rush of the
+team, came waddling up to Reivers and bowed down before him humbly.
+
+"Snow-Burner, I know you are only a man, because I alone of my people
+have seen you among other white men," she said. "Yet you are more than
+other men. Snow-Burner, I have lived among white people and know that
+the talk of spirits is only for children. But how knew you that the
+caribou were here?"
+
+"The meat is there," said Reivers, pointing at his kill. "Your work is
+to take care of it. The axe is on the sledge. Cut off as many saddles
+and hind-quarters as the dogs can drag back to camp. The rest we will
+cache here. To your work. Do not ask questions."
+
+He reloaded and put the wounded animals out of their misery, each with a
+shot through the head, and sat down and watched her as she slaved at her
+butcher's task. Tillie had lived among white people, had been to the
+white man's school even, but Reivers knew he would slacken his hold on
+her if he demeaned himself by assisting her in her toil.
+
+When the dogs had stayed their hunger he leaped into their midst with
+clubbed rifle and knocked them yelping away from their prey. When they
+turned and attacked him he coolly struck and kicked till they had
+enough. Then with the driving whip he beat them till they lay flat in
+the snow and whined for mercy.
+
+By the time Tillie had the sledge loaded and the rest of the kill cached
+under a huge heap of snow, it was noon, and the dogs started back with
+their heavy load, open-mouthed and panting, their excitement divided
+between fear of the man who had mastered them and the odour of fresh
+blood that reeked in their avid nostrils.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX--THE WHITE MAN'S WILL
+
+
+That night in the camp at the river bend the Indians feasted ravenously,
+and Reivers, sitting in Tillie's place as new-made chief, looked on
+without smiling.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" said the oldest man at last. "What is it you want
+with us? Our furs? Speak. We obey your will."
+
+"Furs are good," replied Reivers, "when a man has nothing else, but gold
+is better, and the gold that another man has is best of all."
+
+The old man cackled respectfully.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner! Do you come to us for gold? Do you think we would sit
+here without meat if we had gold? No, Snow-Burner. What we have you can
+have. Your will with the tribe from the oldest to the youngest is our
+law. We owe you our lives. The strength of our young men is yours; the
+wisdom of our old heads is yours. But gold we have not. Do not turn your
+frown upon us, Snow-Burner; you must know it is the truth."
+
+"Since when," said Reivers sternly, "has my friend, old Little Bear,
+dared say that the Snow-Burner has the foolishness of a woman in his
+head? Do you think I come seeking gold from you? No. It is the strength
+of your young men and the wisdom of your old heads that I want. I seek
+gold. You shall help me find it."
+
+Little Bear raised his arms and let them fall in the eloquent Indian
+gesture of helplessness.
+
+"White men have been here often to seek for gold. The great Snow-Burner
+once was one of them. They have digged holes in the ground. They have
+taken the sand from creek bottoms. Did the Snow-Burner, who finds
+caribou where there are none, find any gold here? No. It is an old
+story. There is no gold here."
+
+Reivers leaned forward and spoke harshly.
+
+"Listen, Little Bear; listen all you people. There is gold within three
+days' march from here. Much gold. Another man digs it. You will find it
+for me. I have spoken."
+
+Silence fell on the tepee. The Indians looked at one another. Little
+Bear finally spoke with bowed head.
+
+"We do the Snow-Burner's will."
+
+Nawa, the youngest and strongest of the hunters, turned to Reivers
+respectfully.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa serves you with the strength of his leg and the
+keenness of his eyes. Nawa knows that the Snow-Burner sees things that
+are hidden to us. Our oldest men say there is no gold here. Other white
+men say there is no gold here. The Snow-Burner says there is gold near
+here.
+
+"The Snow-Burner sees what is hidden to others. Nawa does not doubt.
+Nawa waits only the Snow-Burner's commands. But Nawa has been to the
+settlements at Fifty Mile and Dumont's Camp. He has heard the white men
+talk. They talk there of a man who carries gold like gunpowder and gold
+like bullets, instead of the white man's money.
+
+"Nawa has talked with Indians who have seen this man. They call him
+'Iron Hair,' because his hair is black and stiff like the quills of a
+porcupine. Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa knows nothing. He merely tells what he
+has heard. Is this the man the Snow-Burner, too, has heard of!"
+
+Reivers looked around the circle of smoke-blackened faces about the
+fire. No expression betrayed what was going on behind those wood-like
+masks, but Reivers knew Indians and sensed that they were all waiting
+excitedly for his answer.
+
+"That is the man," he said, and by the complete silence that followed he
+knew that his reply had caused a sensation that would have made white
+men swear. "What know you of Iron Hair, Nawa?"
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa dolefully, "our tribe knows of Iron Hair to
+its sorrow. Two moons ago the big man with the hair like a porcupine was
+at Fifty Mile for whisky and food. He hired Small Eyes and Broken Wing
+of our tribe to haul the food to his camp, a day's travelling each way,
+so he said. The pay was to be big. Small Eyes and Broken Wing went. So
+much people know. Nothing more. The sledges did not come back. Small
+Eyes and Broken Wing did not come back. So much do we know of Iron Hair.
+Nawa has spoken."
+
+"Once there were men in these tepees," said Reivers, looking high above
+Nawa's head. "Once there were men who would have gone from their tepees
+to follow to the end the trail of their brothers who go and do not come
+back. Now there are no men. They sit in the tepees with the women and
+keep warm. Perhaps Small Eyes and Broken Wing were men and did not care
+to come back to people who sit by their fires and do not seek to find
+their brothers who disappear."
+
+"We have sought, oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa hopelessly. "Do not think
+we have only sat by our fires. We sought to follow the trail of Iron
+Hair out of Fifty Mile----"
+
+"How ran the trail?" interrupted Reivers.
+
+"Between the north and the west. We went to hunt our brothers. But a
+storm had blotted out the trail. Iron Hair had gone out in the storm.
+Who can follow when there is no trail to see?"
+
+"Once," resumed Reivers in the tone of contempt, "there were strong
+dog-drivers and sharp eyes here. They would have found the camp of Iron
+Hair in those days."
+
+"Our dogs still are strong, our young men drive well, our eyes are sharp
+even now, Snow-Burner," came Nawa's weary reply. "We searched. Even as
+we searched for the caribou we searched for the camp of Iron Hair. We
+found no camp. There is no white man's camp in this country. There is no
+camp at all. We searched till nothing the size of a man's cap could be
+hidden. The white men from Dumont's Camp and Fifty Mile have searched
+for the gold which white men are mad for. They found nothing. At the
+settlements the white men say, 'This man must be the devil himself and
+go to hell for his gold, because his camp certainly is not in this world
+where men can see it with their eyes.'"
+
+"And the caribou were not in this world, either?" mocked Reivers.
+
+Nawa shook his head.
+
+"White men, too, have looked for the camp of Iron Hair."
+
+"Many white men," supplemented old Little Bear. "White men always look
+when they hear of gold. They find gold if it is to be found. The earth
+gives up its secrets to them. Snow-Burner, they could not find the place
+where Iron Hair digs his gold."
+
+"Nawa and his hunters could not find the caribou," said Reivers.
+
+There was no reply. He had driven his will home.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa, at last, "as Little Bear has said, we do
+your will."
+
+"Good;" Reivers rose and towered over them. "My will at present is that
+you go to your tepees. Sleep soundly. I have work for you in the
+morning."
+
+He stood and watched while they filed, stooped over, through the low
+opening in the tepee wall. They went without question, without will of
+their own. A stronger will than theirs had caught them and held them.
+From hence on they were wholly subservient to the superior mentality
+which was to direct their actions. Reivers smiled. Old MacGregor had
+felt safe in telling about the mine; a strange man had no chance to find
+it. But MacGregor did not know of Tillie's people.
+
+Reivers suddenly turned toward the fire. Tillie was standing there,
+arrayed in buckskin so white that she must have kept it protected from
+the tepee smoke in hope of his coming. At the sight of her there came
+before Reivers' eyes the picture of Hattie MacGregor's face as she had
+looked up at him when he was leaving the MacGregor cabin. The look that
+came over his face then was new even to Tillie.
+
+"You, too, get out!" he roared, and Tillie fled from the tepee in
+terror.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX--ANY MEANS TO AN END
+
+
+In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and cursed himself for
+his weakness. What had happened to him? Was he getting to be like other
+men, that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired girl
+interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had he not sworn to forget? And
+yet here came the memory of her--the wide grey eyes, the suffering mouth,
+the purity of the look of her--rising before his eyes like a vision to
+shame him.
+
+To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He understood the significance
+of the look she had given him, and which had stood between him and
+Tillie. Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing to his better
+self.
+
+His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly that it might have
+come from a bare skull. His better self! If a man believed in things
+like that he had to believe in the human race--had to believe in goodness
+and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and all that silly,
+effeminate rot. Reivers didn't believe in that stuff. He knew only one
+life-law, that of strength over weakness, and that was the law he would
+live and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not interfere.
+
+With his terrible will-power he erased the memory of her from his mind.
+He did not erase the resentment at his own weakness. On the contrary,
+the resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that moment of
+weakness.
+
+There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious mine. One--the way
+he had first planned to follow--was to scatter his Indians, and as many
+others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the country lying to
+the south of Fifty Mile, where he knew the mine must be. Moir, or his
+men, must show themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would
+find Moir's camp.
+
+But there was also a shorter and surer way--a shameful way. Moir, by the
+talk he had heard of him, came to Fifty Mile and Dumont's Camp for such
+whisky and feminine company as might be found. He had even sent one of
+his henchmen to steal Hattie MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was
+desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of the
+would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his man was either killed
+or captured, and that no hope for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir's
+next move would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont's, or to send a man
+there, to procure the means of salving his disappointment. And Reivers
+had two attractive women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who
+was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his momentary weakness.
+The black shamefulness of his scheme he laughed at. Then he went to
+sleep.
+
+He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning.
+
+"Have this tepee and another one loaded on one sledge," he directed.
+"Have a second sledge loaded with caribou meat. Do you and the young
+girl prepare to come with me. We are going on a long journey. You will
+both take your brightest clothes."
+
+He waited with set jaws while his orders were obeyed. No weakness any
+more. There was only one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the
+strong one.
+
+A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, and he strode forth
+to find Nawa, the young hunter, waiting with the two women ready for the
+trail.
+
+"How so?" he demanded. "Did I say aught about Nawa?"
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," whispered Tillie, "Neopa is to be Nawa's squaw with
+the coming of Spring. They wish to go together."
+
+"And I do not wish them to go together," said Reivers harshly. "Give me
+that rifle." He took the weapon from Nawa's hands. "Do you stay here and
+eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of Spring, Nawa."
+
+"Snow-Burner," said Nawa, a flash of will lighting his eyes for the
+moment, "does Neopa come back to me?"
+
+"Perhaps," said Reivers, cocking the rifle. "But if you try to follow
+you will never come back. Is it understood?"
+
+Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa made as if to run to him, but
+Reivers caught her brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He had
+resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter what the cost to others.
+
+"Mush! Get on!" he roared at the dogs, and with the rifle ready and with
+a backward glance at Nawa, he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont's
+Camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI--THE SQUAW-MAN
+
+
+A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian camp, Dumont's Camp had
+something to talk about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went
+through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest of the squaws was a
+beaut'! The old bum hadn't stopped long, just long enough to trade a
+chunk of caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough,
+nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws.
+
+Dumont's Camp opined that it was a good thing for the old cripple that
+he hadn't stayed longer, else he might have found himself minus his
+squaws, especially the young one. But Dumont's Camp would have been
+mightily puzzled had it seen how the limp and stoop went out of the
+squaw-man's body the moment he had left their camp behind, how the
+foolish leer and stuttering speech disappeared from his mouth, and how,
+straight-backed and stern-visaged, he threw the bottle of hooch away in
+contempt and hurried on toward Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers had played many strange parts in his tumultuous life, and his
+squaw-man was a masterpiece. Fifty Mile had its sensation early next
+morning. The half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man with the two extremely
+desirable squaws came through, stopped for another bottle of hooch, and
+drove on and made camp just outside the settlement.
+
+"He certainly was one soft-headed old bum," said Jack Raftery, leaning
+on the packing-case that served as bar in his logcabin saloon. "Yes,
+men, he certainly is bumped in the bean and locoed in his arms. Gimme
+that chunk o' meat there for a bottle o' hooch. 'Bout fifty pounds,
+it'll weigh. I'd give 'im a gallon, but he grins foolish and says:
+'Bottle. One bottle.' 'Drag your meat in,' says I. Well, gents, will you
+b'lieve he couldn't make it. No, sir; paralysed in the arms or
+something.
+
+"That young squaw o' his did the toting. A beaut'? Gents, there never
+was anything put up in a brown hide to touch it. An' that locoed ol' bum
+running 'round loose with it. Tempting providence, that's what he is,
+when he comes parading 'round real men-folks with skirts like them.
+Shouldn't wonder if something'd happen to him one o' these cold days.
+Looks like he might 'a' been an awful good man in his day, too. Well
+built. Reckon he's been used mighty rough to be locoed and crippled up
+the way he is."
+
+"I reck-ong," drawled Black Pete, who ran the games at Raftery's when
+there was any money in sight. "I reck-ong too mebbe he get handle more
+rough some tam ef he's hang 'round long wid dem two squaw. Tha' small
+squaw's too chic, she, to b'long to ol' bum lak heem."
+
+The assembled gents laughed. Had they seen the "ol' bum" at that moment
+their laughter would have been cut short. Reivers, in a gully out of
+sight of the settlement, had thrown away his hooch, pitched camp,
+tethered the dogs and made all secure with a swiftness and efficiency
+that belied the characterisation Black Pete had applied to him. He had
+the two tepees set up far apart, the dogs tied between them, and Tillie
+and Neopa had one tepee, and Reivers the other, alone.
+
+Having made camp, Reivers knew what the boys would expect of him in his
+character of sodden squaw-man. Having resolved to use the most shameful
+means in the world to achieve his end, he played his base part to
+perfection.
+
+"Do you take this chunk of meat," he directed Tillie, "and go down to
+the saloon and get another bottle of hooch. Yes, yes; I know I have
+destroyed one bottle. You are not to ask questions but to obey my
+commands. Go down and trade the meat for hooch. Do not stop to speak to
+the white men. Come, back at once. Go!"
+
+But down in Raftery's the assemblage had no hint of these swift changes,
+and they laughed merrily at Black Pete's remarks.
+
+"What d'you reckon his lay is, Jack?" asked one.
+
+"Booze," replied Raftery instantly. "Nothing else. When you see a man
+who's sure been as good a man in his day as this relic, trailing 'round
+with squaw folks, you can jest nacherlly whittle a little marker for him
+and paint on it, ''Nother white man as the hooch hez got.' Sabbe? I
+trace him out as some prospector who's got crippled up and been laying
+out 'mongst the Indians with a good supply of the ol' frost-bite cure
+'longside of 'im. Nothin' to do but tuh hit the jug offen enough to keep
+from gettin' sober and remembering what he used to was. Sabbe? Been
+layin' out sucking the neck of a jug till his ol' thinker's got twisted.
+
+"I've seen dozens of 'em. You can't fool me when I see one, and I saw
+him when he was comin' through the door. Ran out o' hooch and was afraid
+he'd get sober, so he comes down here to get soaked up some more. Brings
+his load o' meat 'long to trade in, an' these two brown dolls to make
+sure in case the caribou have been down this way, which they ain't. Bet
+the drinks against two bits that he'll be chasin' one o' the squaws down
+here for another bottle before an hour's gone. They all do. I've seen
+his kind before."
+
+Black Pete took the bet.
+
+"Because I'm onlucky, moi, lately, an' I want to lose this bet," he
+explained.
+
+Raftery laughed homerically.
+
+"What's on you' chest, Jack?" demanded one of his friends.
+
+"I was just thinking," gurgled the saloonist, "what 'ud happen in case
+this stiff gent, Iron Hair, was to run in 'bout this time."
+
+"By Gar!" laughed Pete. "An' Iron Hair, he's just 'bout due."
+
+At that moment Tillie came waddling in, laid down her bundle of meat
+before Raftery and said--
+
+"One bottle."
+
+"What'd I tell you?" chuckled Raftery, handing over the liquor. "Boss
+him get laid out, eh?" he said to Tillie.
+
+But Tillie did not pause for conversation. She whipped the bottle under
+her blanket and waddled out without a word.
+
+"Well, I'm a son-of-a-gun!" proclaimed Raftery. "That ol' bum has got
+'em well trained, anyhow."
+
+Black Pete pulled his beard reflectively.
+
+"Come to theenk," he mused aloud, "dere was wan rifle on those sledge. I
+theenk mebbe I no go viseet thees ol' bum, he's camp, teel she's leetle
+better acquaint' weeth moi."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII--THE SCORN OF A PURE WOMAN
+
+
+And Fifty Mile talked. It talked to all who came in from the white
+wastes of the country around. It talked in its tents. It talked while
+trifling with Black Pete's games of no-chance. It talked around
+Raftery's bar. It talked so loudly that men heard it up at Dumont's
+Camp.
+
+From Fifty Mile and Dumont's the talk spread up and down the trails, and
+even out to solitary cabins and dugouts where there were no trails.
+Wherever men were to be found in that desolate region the talk of Fifty
+Mile soon made its way. And the talk was mainly of the young squaw, of
+the old crippled-up squaw-man, and that she was of a beauty to set men's
+heads a-whirling and make them murder each other for her possession.
+
+Men meeting each other on the trails asked three questions in order:
+
+"Where you traveling? How's your tobacco? Heard about the beaut' of a
+little squaw down to Fifty Mile?"
+
+Men travelling in the direction of the settlements bent their steps
+toward Fifty Mile, even though it lay far out of their course. Men
+travelling in the opposite direction passed the news to all whom they
+bespoke. Of those who came to the settlement, many strolled casually up
+the gully where the squaw-man had his camp. And all of them strolled
+down again with nothing to brag about but a drink of hooch and a
+mouthful of talk with the squaw-man.
+
+"I don't quite follow that gent's curves," summed up Jack Raftery,
+speaking for the gang. "He gets enough hooch here to keep any human gent
+laid out twenty-six hours out of the twenty-four, but somehow whenever
+you come moseying up to his camp he's on his pins, ready to give you a
+drink and a lot of locoed talk. Yessir, he sure is locoed until he needs
+a guardian, but for one I don't go to do no rushing of his lady-folks,
+not while he's able to stand on his pins and keep his eyes moving.
+Gents, there's been one awful stiff man in his day, and his condition
+goes to show what booze'll do to the best of 'em, and ought to be a
+warning to us all. Line up, men; 'bout third drink time for me."
+
+"There is sometheeng about heem," agreed Black Pete, "I don't know what
+'tees, but there is sometheeng that whispairs to me, 'Look out!'"
+
+While Fifty Mile thus debated his character, Reivers lay in his tepee,
+carefully playing the shameful part he had assumed. He knew that by now
+the news of his arrival, or rather the arrival of Neopa and Tillie, had
+been bruited far and wide around the settlements. Soon the news must
+come to the ears of the man for whose benefit the scheme had been
+arranged.
+
+Shanty Moir, being what he was, would become interested when he heard
+the descriptions of Neopa, and, also because he was what he was, he
+would waste no time, falter at no risks, stop at nothing when his
+interest had been aroused. Reivers had only to wait. Moir would come.
+The only danger was that Hattie and her uncle might come before him.
+
+On the third day after the squaw-man's arrival, Fifty Mile had a second
+sensation. That morning, as Reivers, staggering artistically, came out
+of Raftery's house of poison, he all but stumbled over a sledge before
+the door. With his assumed grin of idiocy growing wider, he examined the
+sledge carefully, next the team which was hitched to it, then lifted his
+eyes to the man and woman that stood beside the outfit. At the first
+glance he had recognised the sledge, and he needed the time thus gained
+to recover from the shock.
+
+"Hello, Mac, ol' timer!" he bellowed drunkenly at Duncan MacGregor.
+"Come have a drink with me."
+
+MacGregor looked at him dourly, disgust and anger on his big red face.
+Hattie, at his side, looked away, her lips pressed tightly together to
+control the anger rising within her. She had gone deadly pale at the
+first sight of Reivers; now the red of shame was burning in her cheeks.
+
+"I shook hands with you, stranger, when you left our roof," said
+MacGregor gruffly. "I do not do so now. I thought you were a man."
+
+"I never did!" snapped Hattie, still looking away. "I knew it was not a
+man." Something like a sob seemed to wrench itself from her chest in
+spite of her firm lips. "I knew it was--just what it is."
+
+Suddenly she flared around on Reivers, her face wan with mingled pain,
+shame and anger.
+
+"Now you are doing just what you are fit for. I've heard. Living on your
+squaws! And you dared to talk big to me--to a decent woman. Blood of my
+father! You dared to talk to me at all! Drive on, Uncle. We'll go on to
+Dumont's. We'll get away from this thing; it pollutes the air. Hi-yah,
+Bones! Mush, mush, mush!"
+
+Reivers leered and grinned foolishly--for the benefit of the onlookers--as
+the sledge went on out of sight.
+
+"See?" he said boastfully. "I used to know white folks once. Yes sir;
+used to know lot of 'em. Don't now. Only know Indians. S'long, boys; got
+to go home."
+
+All that day he sat alone in his tepee. Tillie came to him at noon with
+food and he cursed her and drove her away. In the evening she came to
+him again, and again Reivers ordered her not to lift the flap on his
+tepee.
+
+Tillie by this time was fully convinced that the Snow-Burner had gone
+mad. Else why had he repulsed all her advances? Why had he refused to
+look at the young and attractive Neopa? And now he even spurned food.
+Yes, the Snow-Burner had gone mad, as white men sometimes go mad in the
+North; but she was still his slave. That was her fate.
+
+Reivers sat alone in his tepee, once more fighting to put away the face
+of Hattie MacGregor as it rode before his eyes, a burning, searing
+memory. He was not faltering. The shame for him, because he was a white
+man, because she had once had him under her roof, that Hattie MacGregor
+had suffered as she saw him now, did not swerve him in the least from
+the way he was going.
+
+He had decided to do it this way. That was settled. The shame and
+degradation of his assumed position he had reckoned and counted as
+naught in the game he was playing. Any means to an end. These same men
+who were despising him for a sodden squaw-man would bow their heads to
+him when the game was won. And he would win it, the memory of the face
+of Hattie MacGregor would not halt him in the least. Rather it would
+spur him on. For when the game was won, he would laugh at her--and
+forget.
+
+For the present it was a little hard to forget. That was why he sat
+alone in the tepee and swore at Tillie when she timidly offered to bring
+him food.
+
+So the red-headed girl thought that of him, did she--that he was living
+on his squaws? Well, let her think it. What difference did it make? She
+thought he was that base, did she? All right. She would pay for it all
+when the time came.
+
+Reivers roused himself and strode outdoors. His thoughts persisted in
+including Hattie MacGregor in their ramblings as he sat in the tepee,
+and he felt oppressed. What he needed was to mingle with other men. He'd
+forget, then. He condemned the company that was to be found at
+Raftery's, but his need for distraction drove him and, assuming the
+stoop, limp and leer of the sodden squaw-man, he slumped off down the
+gully to the settlement.
+
+It was a clear, starlit night, and as he slumped along he mused on what
+a fine night it would be for picking out a trail by the stars. As he
+approached Raftery's he saw and heard evidences of unusual activity in
+the bar. A team of eight dogs, hitched to an empty sledge, was tied
+before the door. Within there was sound of riot and wassail. Over the
+sound of laughter and shuffling feet rose a voice which drowned the
+other noises as the roar of a lion drowns the chirping of birds, a voice
+that rattled the windows in a terrifying rendition of "Jack Hall."
+
+    Oh, I killed a man 'tis said, so 'tis said;
+    I killed a man 'tis said, so 'tis said.
+    I kicked 'is bloody head, an' I left 'im lyin' dead;
+    Yes, I left 'im lyin' dead ---- 'is eyes!
+
+Reivers opened the door and strode in silently and unobserved. He made a
+base, contemptible figure as, stooped and shuffling, a foolish leer on
+his face, he stood listening apologetically to the song. The broad back
+of the singer was turned toward him. As the song ended Raftery's roaming
+eye caught sight of Reivers.
+
+"Ah, there he is; here he is, Iron Hair. There's the man with the squaws
+I was telling you about."
+
+The man swung around, and Reivers was face to face with the man he
+sought, Shanty Moir.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII--SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers' tumultuous scheme of life often had led him into situations
+where his life had hung on his ability to play artistically the part he
+had assumed. But never had his self-control been put to such a test as
+now, when he faced Shanty Moir.
+
+Had he not prepared himself for a shock, his surprise must surely have
+betrayed him, for even the Snow-Burner could not look upon Shanty Moir
+without amazement. To Reivers, the first impression that came was that
+he was looking at something as raw and primitive as the sources of life
+itself.
+
+Shanty Moir had little or nothing in common with the other men in the
+room. He was even shaped differently. He belonged, so it seemed to
+Reivers, to the age of the saber-tooth tiger, the long-haired mammoth,
+and a diet of roots and raw flesh.
+
+There was about him the suggestion of man just risen to the dignity of
+an upright position. His body was enormous--longer, wider, denser than a
+man's body should be; the legs beneath it short and bowed. There was no
+neck that could be seen. His arms seemed to begin close up to the ears,
+and ran downward in curves, like giant calipers, the hands even with the
+knees.
+
+The head fitted the body, squat and enormous, the forehead running
+abruptly back from the brows, and the face so flat and bony that the
+features seemed merely to dent it. The brow-bones came down and half hid
+the small eyes; the nose was small, but a pair of great nostrils ran
+back in the skull; the mouth was huge, yet it seemed small, and there
+was more of the head below it than above.
+
+Iron Hair was well nicknamed. His hair was probably three inches long,
+and it stood out straight from his head--black, wiry, menacing. Reivers,
+with his foolish grin growing larger on his face, appraised Moir with
+considerable admiration. Here was the real thing, the pure,
+unadulterated man-animal, unweakened, untouched by effeminising
+civilisation. This man knew no more law or conscience than the ancient
+cave-tiger, whose only dictates sprang from appetite.
+
+Reivers had rejected morals because it pleased him to run contrary to
+all the rest of the world; this man never knew that right or wrong
+existed. What his appetites told him to take he took as a matter of
+course. And it was written in his face that his appetites were as
+abnormally powerful as was he.
+
+Reivers had been a leader of men because his mind was stronger than the
+minds of the men with whom he had dealt. This man was a leader because
+of the blind, unintelligent force that was in him. And inwardly the
+fighting man in Reivers glowed at the prospects of the Titanic clash
+that would come between them.
+
+Shanty Moir as he looked from under his bony brows saw exactly what
+Reivers wished him to see: a drunken broken squaw-man, so weak that he
+could not possibly be the slightest source of trouble. Being primitive
+of mind he listed Reivers at once as helpless. Having done this, nothing
+could alter his opinion; and Reivers had gained the vantage that he
+sought.
+
+Moir threw back his head and laughed, softly and behind set teeth, when
+his quick inspection of Reivers was ended.
+
+"So that's tuh waster who's got tuh squaws 'at hass tuh camp upset," he
+said languidly. "Eh, sonnies! Art no men among ye that ye have not gone
+woman-stealing by this? Tuh waster does not look hard to take a young
+woman from."
+
+Reivers broke into an apologetic snigger.
+
+"Don't you try to steal my two kids, mister," he whined. "You'd be
+mighty sorry for your bargain if you did."
+
+"How so, old son?" demanded Moir with a tolerant laugh.
+
+"Them kids--if you was to steal them without my permission--one or both of
+'em--they'd make you wish you'd never seen 'em--'less I was along,"
+chuckled Reivers.
+
+"Speak it up, old son," said Moir sharply. "What's behind thy fool's
+words?"
+
+"Them kids--they'd die if they was took away from me," replied Reivers
+seriously. "And they'd take the man who stole 'em to the happy hunting
+ground along with 'em." He winked prodigiously. "Lots of funny things in
+this ol' world, mister. You wouldn't think to look at me that those two
+kids wouldn't want to live if I wasn't with 'em, but that's the fact. I
+wasn't always what I'm now, mister. Once--well, I was different once--and
+them kids will just nacherlly manage to poison the first man who touches
+'em--unless I give the word."
+
+The men of Fifty Mile looked at one another, and Black Pete shuddered.
+
+"The ol' moocher sure has got 'em trained, Iron Hair," said Raftery.
+"He's locoed, but those squaws look up to him like a little tin god, and
+that's no lie."
+
+"Poison?" repeated Moir doubtingly. "Art a medicine man, old son?"
+
+Reivers shook his head loosely.
+
+"Not me, mister, not me," he chuckled. "It's something Indian that I
+don't sabbe. But there's a couple graves 'way up where we came from, and
+they hold what's left of a couple of bad men who raided my camp and
+stole my kids. I don't know how it happened, mister. The kids come back
+to me the same night, and the two bad men were stiff and black--as black
+as your hair, mister, after the first kiss."
+
+"The kiss of Death," chimed in Black Pete, crossing himself. "I have
+heard of eet. Sacr�! I am the lucky dog, moi."
+
+Shanty Moir nodded. He, too, had heard of the method by which Indian
+women of the North on rare occasions revenge themselves upon the brutal
+white men who steal them from their people. Having often indulged in
+that thrilling sport himself, Moir was well versed in the obstacles and
+dangers to be met in its pursuit. Being crafty, with the craft of the
+lynx that eschews the poisoned deer carcass, he had thus far managed to
+select his victims from the breed of squaws that do not seriously object
+to playing a Sabine part; and he had no intention of decreasing his
+caution now, although what men had spoken of Neopa had fired his blood.
+
+"Ho, ho! I see how 'tis, old son," he said with a grin of appreciation.
+"Dost manage well for a waster."
+
+He suddenly drew his hand from his mackinaw pocket and held it out,
+opened, toward Reivers. Two jagged nuggets of dull gold the size of big
+buckshot jiggled on his palm, and Moir laughed uproariously as Reivers,
+at the sight of them, bent forward, rubbing his hands together,
+apparently frantic with avarice.
+
+"Eh--hey!" drawled Moir, closing his fist as Reivers' fingers reached for
+the gold. "I thought so. 'Tis tub gold thy wants, eh, old sonny? Well,
+do thee bring me tuh cattle to look at and we'll try to bargain."
+
+"Come up to my camp," chattered Reivers, eying the fist that contained
+the nuggets. He was anxious to get out of the bar. He had no fear that
+the primitive Moir would be able to see any flaw in his acting, but
+Black Pete and Jack Raftery were less primitive, and he knew that they
+had not quite accepted him for the weakling that he pretended to be.
+"Come and visit me. Buy a bottle of hooch and we go up to my camp."
+
+Moir tossed one of the nuggets across the bar to Raftery.
+
+"Is't good for a round, lad?" he laughed.
+
+Raftery cunningly hefted the nugget and set out the bottles.
+
+"Good for two," he replied.
+
+Moir tossed over the second nugget.
+
+"Then that's good for four," said he. "Do ye boys drink it up while I'm
+away to tuh camp of old sonny here. A bottle, Raftery. Now, sonny, do
+thee lead on, and if I'm not satisfied I'll wring thy neck to let thee
+know my displeasure."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV--THE BARGAIN
+
+
+Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir wait a moment by the
+fire, while he spoke to Tillie. "Dress yourself and Neopa in your
+newest," he commanded. "Then do you both come in to me, bringing food
+for two men."
+
+"What's wrong, sonny?" laughed Moir, seeing Reivers come under the door
+flap alone. "Hast lost the whip over thy cattle?"
+
+"They're getting some grub ready," replied Reivers fawningly. "They'll
+be here in a minute. Let's have a drink out of that bottle, mister.
+That's the stuff."
+
+He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the burning liquor in a
+fashion that made even Moir open his eyes in admiration.
+
+"Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster, sonny," he chuckled, and
+measuring with his fingers on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers' he
+tossed it gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the bottle from
+his hand.
+
+"I always take an eye-opener before my real drink," said Reivers, and,
+measuring off twice the amount that Moir had taken, he drank it off like
+so much water.
+
+The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild stimulant. On his
+abnormal organisation it merely had the effect of intensifying his
+characteristics. When he wished to drink whisky he drank--out of
+full-sized water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put liquor
+from him with contempt. Now he handed the bottle back to Moir. The
+latter looked at him and at the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not
+dismayed. Reivers had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to
+him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any man in a
+drinking bout.
+
+"Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, sonny," said Moir, and
+finished the bottle.
+
+"No more?" muttered Reivers vacantly.
+
+"Gallons!" replied Moir. "Whisky enough to drown you dead--if your women
+satisfy."
+
+"Look at them," said Reivers as the door-flap was flung back. "Here they
+are."
+
+Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, her hair
+hanging in two thick braids down her shoulders. Neopa followed, and the
+wistfulness that had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made her
+the more interesting in Shanty Moir's eyes.
+
+A glance from Neopa's fawn-like eyes at the big man whom Reivers had
+brought home with him, and then her eyes sought the ground and she
+trembled. Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the Snow-Burner,
+she had never seen so masterful a man. She looked at Reivers and saw
+that he was not watching her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the
+Snow-Burner's slave; his will was her law. But since he refused to
+notice her smiles it would do no harm to smile upon a man like this Iron
+Hair--just a little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking.
+
+Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to Reivers.
+
+"Take the young one outside for two minutes. I've a word to say to this
+one."
+
+To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust Neopa out before him,
+and dropped the flap.
+
+"Listen," whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue to Tillie, "we will
+put his man out of the way. It is easily done. Then you will go with me,
+you and the young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the young
+one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be on the trail in an hour."
+
+Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head.
+
+"The Snow-Burner is the master," she said seriously. "I will slay the
+man who does him harm. I can not do what he does not wish. I can not go
+away from him."
+
+"But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish."
+
+The smile went from Tillie's full lips and she took a step toward the
+opening.
+
+"Stop," laughed Moir softly. "I merely wished to know if you are a true
+woman. All right, old sonny!" he called. "Come on in."
+
+"I takest off cap to you, lad," he continued as Reivers and Neopa
+re-entered. "Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed." His eyes ran over the
+shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. "Now, old sonny, out with it. What's
+thy idea of tuh bargain?"
+
+Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.
+
+"Said enough," laughed Moir. "Shall have all tuh hooch thy guts can
+hold."
+
+Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
+
+"Hooch is good," said he, "but gold is better."
+
+"Go on," said Moir sullenly.
+
+"You've got gold," continued Reivers. "I saw it. You've got lots of
+gold; I've heard them talk about you down at Raftery's. You want us to
+go with you when you go back to your camp, don't you?"
+
+Moir nodded angrily.
+
+"I want the women," he said brutally. "I might be able to use you, too."
+
+Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.
+
+"You've got to use me if you're going to have the women," he chuckled.
+"You know that by this time, don't you, mister?"
+
+Again Moir's black head nodded in grudging assent.
+
+"What then?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm a handy man around a camp, mister," whined Reivers. "You got to
+take me along if you take the women, but I can be a help----"
+
+"Canst cook?" snapped Moir suddenly.
+
+"Heh, heh! Can I cook?" Reivers rubbed his hands. "I'm an old--I used to
+be an old sour-dough, mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who
+couldn't cook?"
+
+"Might use thee then," said Moir. "My fool of a cook has gone. Sent him
+after a woman for me, and he hasn't come back. Happen he got himself
+killed, tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up without tuh
+woman. Well, then, if that's settled--what's tuh bargain?"
+
+Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In reality the situation
+was very clear to him. Moir had listed him as a weakling; therefore he
+had no fear of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would be
+confident of winning the loyalty of the two women from their apparently
+helpless master. And as it was apparent that the man whom Reivers had
+slain with a rock had been Moir's cook, it was probable that he was
+sincere in his offer to use Reivers in that capacity.
+
+"In the Spring," said Reivers in reply to Moir's question, "me and my
+two kids go north again, back among their own people."
+
+"In the Spring," growled Moir, "canst go to ---- for all of me. I'll be
+travelling then myself. Speak out, sonny. How much?"
+
+"Plenty of hooch for me all Winter," Reivers leered with drunken
+cunning.
+
+"I said plenty," retorted Moir. "What else?"
+
+"Gold," said Reivers, rubbing his hands. "Gold enough to buy me hooch
+for all next Summer."
+
+Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he was dealing with. His
+eyes ran over the plump Tillie, over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
+
+"Done," he laughed. "And now, old son, break up thy camp while I load my
+sledge with hooch. Be ready to travel when I come back. I'll bring
+plenty of liquor, but none to be drinked till we're on the trail. Wilt
+travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But willst have a snug berth
+in my camp when we get there. Yes," he laughed as he hurried out, "wilt
+not be able to tear thyself away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV--THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE
+
+
+Under Reivers' sharp orders--given in a way that would have startled Moir
+had he heard--Tillie and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges with
+their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked them to the traces.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Neopa timidly, "do we go back to Nawa?"
+
+"In good time," said Reivers. "For the present, you have only to obey my
+wishes. Get on the first sledge."
+
+With bowed head the girl took the place directed, and Reivers turned to
+find Tillie smiling craftily at his elbow.
+
+"Snow-Burner," she said softly, "this is the man, Iron Hair, who digs
+the gold which you want. We go to rob him. I understand. You play at
+drinking to fool Iron Hair. It is well. Tillie will help the
+Snow-Burner. We will kill Iron Hair and take his gold. Then the
+Snow-Burner will come with Tillie to her tepee?"
+
+Reivers looked at her, and for the first time he felt a revulsion
+against the base part he was playing. Would he return with Tillie to her
+tepee when this affair was over? Would he go on with his old way of
+living, the base part of him triumphant over the better self? The
+strange questions rapped like trip-hammers on Reivers' conscience.
+
+"Get on the sledge!" he growled, choked with anger.
+
+She did not stir. He struck her cruelly. Tillie smiled. That was like
+the Snow-Burner of old; and she waddled to her appointed place without
+further question.
+
+Up the gulch from Raftery's came Moir quietly leading his dogs, the
+sledge well loaded with cases of liquor.
+
+"Wilt have a kiss first of all," he laughed excitedly, and catching
+Neopa in his arms tossed her in the air, kissed her loudly on her
+averted cheeks and set her back on the sledge. "Now, old son, follow and
+follow quietly. When Iron Hair travels he wants no Fifty Mile gang on
+his trail. Say nothing, but keep me in sight. Heyah, mush, mush!"
+
+Out of the gully he led the way swiftly and silently to the open country
+beyond the settlement. There he circled in a confusing way, bearing
+northward. After an hour he began circling again, doubling on his trail
+to make it hard for any one to follow, but finally Reivers knew by the
+stars that the course lay to the south. Another series of false twists
+in the trail, then Moir struck out in determined fashion on a straight
+course, east and a trifle south from Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers, silently guiding his dogs in the tracks made by Moir, breathed
+hard as he read the stars. By the pace that Moir was setting it seemed
+certain that he now was making for his camp in a direct line. But if so,
+if this trail were held, it would take them back toward the Dead Lands,
+straight into the country that was Duncan MacGregor's trapping-ground.
+Could the mine be in that region. If so, how could it have escaped the
+notice of the old trapper?
+
+It was well past midnight when Reivers saw the team ahead disappear in a
+depression in the ground and heard Moir's voice loudly calling a halt.
+By the time Reivers came up with his two sledges Moir had unhitched his
+dogs on the flat of a frozen river-bed and was hurriedly dragging a
+bottle from one of the cases on his sledge.
+
+"Hell's fire, old son; unhook and camp. The liquor's dying in me, and I
+had just begun to feel good."
+
+"I was wondering," gasped Reivers in assumed exhaustion. "I was
+wondering how much farther you were going before you opened a bottle."
+
+"Have your squaws get out tuh grub," ordered Moir, jamming down the
+cork. "And now you 'n' me, wilt see who drinks t'other off his feet."
+
+For reply Reivers promptly gulped down a drink that would have strangled
+most men.
+
+"Good enough," admitted Moir. "Here's better, though." And he instantly
+improved on Reivers' record.
+
+The first bottle was soon emptied--a quart of raw, fiery hooch--and a
+second instantly broached.
+
+The food was forgotten by Moir; the women were forgotten. His primitive
+mind was obsessed with the idea of pouring more burning poison down his
+throat than this broken-down waster who dared to drink up to him. Bolt
+upright he sat, laughing and singing, never taking his eyes off Reivers,
+while drink after drink disappeared down their throats.
+
+No movement of Reivers escaped Moir's vigilant watch for signs of
+weakness. As Reivers gave no apparent sign of toppling over he grew
+enraged.
+
+"Hell's fire! Wilt sit here till daylight if thou wilt," he roared.
+"Drink on there! 'Tis thy turn."
+
+Tillie and Neopa got food ready from the grub-bag and sat waiting
+patiently; the dogs ceased moving, bedded down in the snow and went to
+sleep; and still the contest went on.
+
+Finally Reivers discerned the slight thickening of speech and the glassy
+stare in his opponent's eyes that he had been waiting for. Then, and not
+until then, did he begin to betray apparent signs of failing.
+
+"Sh-sh-shtrong liquor, m-m-mishter," he stuttered. "Awful sh-sh-shtrong
+liquor."
+
+Moir cackled in drunken triumph.
+
+"'Tish bear's milk, old shon. 'Tish made for men. Drink, ---- ye, drink
+again!"
+
+Reivers drank, drank longer and heavier than he had yet done.
+
+"There; take the mate of that, mister, and you'll know you been
+drinking," he stammered.
+
+Moir's throat by this time had been burned too raw to taste, and his
+sight was too dulled to measure quantities. He tipped the bottle up and
+drained it. The dose would have killed a normal man. To Shanty Moir it
+brought only an inclination to slumber. His head fell forward on his
+breast.
+
+With a thick-tongued snarl he sat up straight and looked at Reivers.
+Reivers hiccoughed, swayed in his seat, and collapsed with a drunken
+clatter.
+
+Moir smiled. He winked in unobserved triumph. Then the superhuman
+strength with which he had fought off the effects of the liquor snapped
+like a broken wire, and he pitched forward on his face into the snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI--THE SNOW-BURNER BEGINS TO WEAKEN
+
+
+Reivers stood up, looked down at his fallen rival and yawned.
+
+"Body," he mused, "but for a hard head, there lies you."
+
+He bent cautiously over Moir. The Welshman lay with his face half buried
+in the crusted snow, his lungs pumping like huge bellows, and the snow
+flying in gusts from around his nostrils at every expulsion of breath.
+Reivers laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. There was no movement.
+
+"Hey, mister," he called.
+
+The undisturbed breathing showed that the words had not penetrated to
+the clouded consciousness. Deliberately Reivers turned the big man over
+on his back. Moir lay as stiff and dead as a log. With swift, deft hands
+Reivers searched him to the skin, looking for a trail-map, a mark or a
+sign of any kind that might indicate the location of Moir's mine. He was
+not greatly disappointed when he failed to find anything of the sort; he
+had hardly expected that an experienced pirate like Shanty Moir would
+travel with his secrets on his person.
+
+Next he considered the dogs. It was barely possible that the dogs knew
+the way to the mine. If they had travelled the way before, they would
+know when they were on the home-trail, and if so they would travel
+thither if given their heads, even though their master lay helplessly
+bound on the sledge. Then at the mine, a sudden surprise, and probably a
+second of sharp work with the rifle on Moir's henchmen.
+
+Reivers stepped eagerly over to where Moir's team lay sleeping. He swore
+softly when he saw them. Moir had traded his tired team for a fresh
+outfit at Fifty Mile, and the new dogs were as strange to this trail as
+Reivers himself.
+
+His triumph over Moir in the drinking bout had been in vain. There was
+no march to be stolen, even with Moir lying helpless on the snow. He
+would have to go through with it as he had planned. Tillie and Neopa
+must be the means by which he would obtain his ends.
+
+He suddenly looked over to the sledge where the two women were patiently
+waiting with the food they had prepared. Tillie, squat and stolid, was
+sitting as impassive and content as a bronze figure at the door of the
+shelter tepee which she had erected, but Neopa sat bowed over on the end
+of the sledge, her head on her folded arms, her slim figure shaking with
+silent sobs.
+
+"Put back the food and go to your blankets," he commanded harshly. "Stop
+that whining, girl, or you will have something to whine for."
+
+He waited until his orders had been obeyed and the women were in the
+tepee. Then he unrolled his blanket and lay down on the snow.
+
+He did not sleep. He knew that he would not. For all through the day,
+during his dealing with Moir, on the night trail under the clean stars,
+his mind had been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in
+running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit night, with nothing
+to occupy him, the picture rushed into being, vivid and living. He could
+not shut it out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of Hattie
+MacGregor as he had seen her that morning with the pain and scorn upon
+her young, fine face. Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as
+clear as if she stood by his side:
+
+"I knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws! And you dared to talk
+to me--a decent woman!"
+
+Reivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the white stars. From the
+tepee there came a sound that brought him up sitting. He listened,
+amazed and puzzled. It was Neopa sobbing because she had been torn from
+her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint of her pain-racked tones there
+was something which recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of
+Hattie MacGregor.
+
+It was probably an hour after he had lain down that Reivers rose up and
+quietly hooked his strongest dogs to a sledge.
+
+"Tillie! Neopa! Come out!" he whispered, throwing open the flap of the
+little tepee.
+
+Neopa came, wet-faced and haggard, her wide-open eyes showing plainly
+that there had been no sleep for her that night. Tillie was rubbing her
+eyes sleepily, protesting against being wakened from comfortable
+slumber.
+
+Reivers pointed northward up the river bed.
+
+"Up there, on this river, one day's march away, is the camp of your
+people, which we came from," he whispered. "Do you both take this team
+and drive rapidly thither. Hold to the river-bed and keep away from the
+black spots where the water shows through the snow. Do not stop to rest
+or feed. You should reach your people in the middle of the afternoon.
+Then do you give Nawa this rifle. Tell him to shoot any white man who
+comes after you. Now go swiftly."
+
+Neopa looked at him with her fawn-like eyes large with incredibility and
+hope.
+
+"Snow-Burner! Do you let me go back to Nawa?" she whispered.
+
+"Get on the sledge," he commanded. "Do as I've told you, or you'll hear
+from me."
+
+As emotion had all but paralysed the young girl he forced her to a seat
+on the sledge and thrust the whip into her hand, then turned to Tillie.
+Tillie was making no move to approach the sledge.
+
+"Did you hear what I said?" he demanded.
+
+Tillie smiled strangely.
+
+"Has the Snow-Burner become afraid of Iron Hair?" she asked.
+
+"So little afraid that I no longer need you to help me in this matter,"
+retorted Reivers.
+
+The shrewd squaw shook her head.
+
+"How will the Snow-Burner find Iron Hair's gold how? Iron Hair will not
+take the Snow-Burner to his camp alone. It is not the Snow-Burner that
+Iron Hair wants. It is a woman. Has the Snow-Burner given up the fight
+to get the gold which he wants so much? He knows he can not reach Iron
+Hair's camp--alone."
+
+"Then I will not reach it at all. Get on the sledge."
+
+Tillie smiled but did not move.
+
+"The Snow-Burner at last has become like other white men. He wishes to
+do what is right." She pointed at the snoring Moir. "He would not be so
+weak."
+
+While Reivers looked at her in amazement the squaw stepped forward,
+straightened out the dogs, kicked them viciously and sent the sledge,
+bearing Neopa alone, flying up the river-bed.
+
+"To send Neopa back to Nawa is well and good," she said, returning to
+Reivers. "She would weep for Nawa all day and night, and would grow sick
+and die on our hands. But there is no Nawa waiting for Tillie. Tillie is
+tired of her tepee with no man in it. Iron Hair has smiled upon me,
+Snow-Burner. I will smile upon him. His smile will answer mine as the
+dry pine lights up when the match is touched to it. I have looked in his
+eyes and know. He will forget Neopa. Tillie will help the Snow-Burner
+rob Iron Hair. Is it well?"
+
+"Get back to your blankets," commanded Reivers. "If you wish it, we will
+let it be so. Sleep long. Do not stir until you hear that Iron Hair has
+awakened."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII--INTO THE JAWS OF THE BEAR
+
+
+Shanty Moir stirred when the first rays of the morning sun, glancing off
+the snow, struck his eyes. He rose like a musk-ox lifting itself from
+its snow wallow, with mighty heaves and grunts, and looked around.
+
+He was blear-eyed and puffed of face, his throat was raw and burning
+from the unbelievable amount of hooch he had swallowed in the night, but
+his abnormal organisation had thrown off the effects of the alcohol and
+he was cold sober. His first move was to cool his throat with handfuls
+of snow, his second to step over and regard the apparently paralysed
+Reivers with a look of mingled triumph and contempt.
+
+"Eh, old sonny! Would a drinked with Shanty Moir, wouldst 'ee?" he
+chuckled. "Happen thee got thy old soak's skin filled to overflow that
+time. Get up, you waster!" he commanded, stirring the prostrate form
+with a heavy foot "Up with you!"
+
+Reivers did not stir, but he put that touch of the foot down as
+something extra that Moir would have to pay for. He was apparently lying
+steeped in the depths of drunken slumber, and he wished to drive the
+impression firmly into Shanty Moir's mind that he had been dead to the
+world all night. Hence he did not interrupt his snoring as Moir's foot
+touched him.
+
+"Laid out stiff!" laughed Moir.
+
+He reached down, lifted Reivers' head from the snow and let it fall
+heavily. Still Reivers made no sign of awakening. Moir looked at him for
+a moment, then slily tiptoed toward the shelter tepee and threw up the
+flap. The next instant a bellow of rage shattered the morning quiet.
+Like a maddened bear Moir was back at Reivers, cuffing, kicking,
+cursing, commanding that he wake up.
+
+Reivers awoke only in degree. Not until Moir had opened a new bottle of
+hooch and poured a drink down his throat did he essay to sit up and open
+his eyes.
+
+"Wha' smatter? Can't a man shleep?" he protested. "Wha' smatter with
+you?"
+
+"Matter!" bellowed Moir. "Plenty of matter, you old waster. Where's the
+young lass, eh? Where's the girl gone? Look in the tepee and see what's
+the matter. You told me you had the trulls buffaloed. What's become of
+the young girl?"
+
+It was some time before Reivers appeared to understand. Finally he
+stumbled to his feet and started toward the tent, met Tillie as she
+stepped out rubbing her eyes, and recoiled drunkenly.
+
+"Neopa? Where is she?" muttered Tillie. "She slept near the door. Now
+she is gone."
+
+She had let her shiny black hair fall loosely over her shoulders and now
+she threw it back, looked straight at Moir and smiled.
+
+"Neopa gone?" demanded Reivers thickly. "She can't be; she wouldn't
+dare."
+
+"Dare, you fool? Look there." Moir pointed to the hollows where the
+missing dog team had lain and to the tracks that ran straight and true
+up the river bed. "She's run away. Been gone half a night. Well, what
+have you got to say?"
+
+Reivers turned with a scowl on Tillie, but Tillie was comfortably
+plaiting her thick hair.
+
+"Neopa has run away--back to our people," she said with a smile, as she
+turned back into the tepee. "Tillie does not run away," she added as she
+disappeared.
+
+Moir sat down on a sledge and cursed Reivers steadily for five minutes,
+but at every few words his eyes would stray back to the tepee which hid
+Tillie.
+
+"We'll go after her," said Reivers. "We'll bring her back."
+
+"Go after her!" snorted Moir. "She has half a night's start on us.
+She'll reach her people before we could get her. Do you think I want
+half the country following my trail."
+
+"I'll go after her alone then," insisted Reivers.
+
+"Will you?" Moir's eyes narrowed to slits. "I think not. Let me tell
+thee something, old son: he who goes this far on the home trail with
+Shanty Moir goes all the way. Understand? You'll come with me or you'll
+be wolf-meat out here on the snow. No; there'll be no following of that
+kid. She's gone. The other one's here. There is no telling what tale the
+kid will spin when she meets people, or who will be down here looking
+for our trail. Therefore we are going to travel and travel quick. Have
+the squaw get food in a hurry. Get your dogs together. We'll be on the
+trail in half an hour."
+
+Moir was masterful and dominant now. It was evident that he was more
+worried over the possibility of some one hearing of his whereabouts
+through Neopa than he was over the girl's escape. He gave Reivers a
+second drink of liquor, since he seemed to need it to fully awaken him,
+and set about making ready for the trail.
+
+"Eat plenty," he commanded, when Tilly served the cold meat and tea.
+"The next meal you have will be about sundown."
+
+He tore down the tepee, packed the sledges and had the outfit ready for
+the start in an amazingly short while.
+
+"Now, old son," he said quietly, pointing to the rifle that lay
+uncovered on top of his sledge, "do 'ee take good look at her. She's a
+good old Betsy and I've knocked o'er smaller men than you at the half
+mile. Do you keep well up with me on the trail I'll be making this day
+and there'll be no trouble. Try any tricks and the wolves will have
+whiskey-soaked meat to feed on. There's no turning back now. He who
+comes this far with Shanty Moir goes all the way."
+
+"You can't lose me, mister," stammered Reivers. "I want that money for
+hooch for next Summer like you promised."
+
+"Wilt get more than you bargained for, old son," laughed Moir. "Yes,
+more than you ever dreamed of. Hi-yah! Buck! Bugle! Mush; mush up!"
+
+Moir made no pretence at hiding his trail when he started this time.
+Apparently he reasoned that the damage was done. If any one wished to
+trail him after hearing Neopa's story they would have no trouble in
+finding his tracks, despite any subterfuge he might attempt. He went
+straight forward, as a man who has nothing to fear if he can but reach
+his fastness, and Reivers' wonderment grew as the trail held straight
+toward the rising sun.
+
+The course was parallel to the one he had taken westward from
+MacGregor's cabin to Tillie's encampment. If it held on as it was going
+it would lead straight into the heart of the Dead Lands, and within half
+a day's travel of the MacGregor home. Was it possible that the mine lay
+in the Dead Lands? Duncan MacGregor made this territory his
+trapping-ground. How could his brother's find have escaped his trained
+outdoor eyes?
+
+The next instant Reivers was cursing himself for a blind fool. There was
+no trapping in the Dead Lands. There was no feed there. Except for a
+stray wolf-cave, fur-bearing beasts would shun those barren rocks as a
+desert, and Duncan MacGregor, being a knowing trapper, might trap around
+it twenty years without venturing through after a first fruitless search
+for signs.
+
+The mine was in the Dead Lands, of course. It was as safely hidden there
+as if within the bowels of the earth. And he, Reivers, had probably been
+within shooting distance of it during his two days' wandering in that
+district. The man whom he had killed with the rock had undoubtedly been
+hurrying with Hattie MacGregor straight to his chief's fastness.
+
+It was noon when the ragged ground on the horizonhead told Reivers that
+his surmises were correct and that they were hurrying straight for the
+Dead Lands. An hour of travel and the jagged formation of the rock
+country was plainly distinguishable a little over a mile ahead. Then
+Moir for the first time that day called a halt. When Reivers caught up
+with him he saw that Moir held in each hand a small pouch-like
+contrivance of buckskin, pierced near the middle with tiny holes and
+equipped with draw-strings at the bottom.
+
+"Come here, lass," he beckoned to Tillie. "Must hide that smiling mouth
+of thine for the present."
+
+With a laugh he threw the pouch over the squaw's head, pulled the bottom
+tightly around her neck, and tied the strings securely.
+
+"The same with thee, old son," he said, and treated Reivers in the same
+summary manner. "You see, I do not wish to have to put you away," he
+explained genially, "and that I would do if by chance thy eyes should
+see the way to Shanty Moir's mine. One or two men have been unlucky
+enough to see it. They will never be able to tell the tale." He
+skilfully searched the pair for hidden weapons, but Reivers had expected
+this and carried not so much as a knife. "All right. Keep in my steps,
+old son. Presently thou'll get wet. Do not fear. Wilt not let 'ee come
+to harm. Neither thee nor tuh squaw. I have use for you both. Come now;
+I'll go slow."
+
+The buckskin pouch pierced only by the tiny air-holes, masked Reivers'
+eyes in a fashion that precluded any possible chance of sight. He knew
+instinctively that Moir was turning. First the turn was to the left.
+Then back to the right. Then in a circle, and after that straight ahead.
+
+Presently the feel of a sharp rock underfoot told him that they had
+entered the Dead Lands. He stumbled purposely to one side of the trail
+and bumped squarely against a solid wall of stone. Next he tried it on
+the opposite side with the same result. Moir was leading the way through
+a narrow defile in the rocks.
+
+Suddenly there came to Reivers' ears the sound of running water, the
+lazy murmur of a small brook. Almost at the same instant came the splash
+of Moir and his dogs going into the stream and Moir's laughing:
+
+"Wilt get a little wet here, old son. But follow on."
+
+Fumbling with his feet Reivers found the stream and stepped in. To his
+surprise the water was warm. Warm water? Where had he seen warm water
+recently in this country? His thoughts leaped back with a snap. There
+was only one open stream to be found thereabouts, and that was the brook
+that came from the warm springs by which he had camped on his way to
+Tillie's.
+
+"Warm water!" laughed Moir. "Wilt find all snug in my camp. Aye, as snug
+as in a well-kept jail."
+
+The stream was knee-deep, and by the pressure of the water against the
+back of his legs Reivers knew that they were going down-stream.
+Presently Moir spoke again.
+
+"Now, if you value the tops of your heads, do you duck as low as you
+can. Duck now, quick; and do you keep that position till I tell you to
+straighten up."
+
+Reivers and Tillie ducked obediently. Suddenly the tiny light that had
+come through the air-holes of their masks was shut out. The darkness was
+complete. Reivers thrust his hand above his bowed head and came in
+contact with cold, clammy rock. No wonder it had taken MacGregor and
+Moir two years to find the mine, since the way to it lay by a
+subterranean river!
+
+The light reappeared, but it was not the sunny light that had come
+through the air-holes before they had entered the river tunnel. It was
+grey and dead, as the light in a room where the sunshine does not enter.
+
+"Now you can lift your heads," laughed Moir. "Come to the right. Up the
+bank. Here we are."
+
+He jerked Reivers out of the water roughly, and roughly pulled the sack
+from his head. Reivers blinked as the light struck his eyes. Moir
+treated him to a generous kick.
+
+"Welcome," he hissed menacingly. "Welcome to the camp of Shanty Moir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII--MACGREGOR ROY
+
+
+Reivers' first impression was that he was standing in a gigantic
+stockade. The second that he was on the floor of a great quarry-pit.
+Then, when the situation grew clear to him, he stood dumfounded.
+
+The camp of Shanty Moir lay in what would have been a solid rock cave
+but for the lack of a roof. It was an irregular hollow in the strange
+formation of the Dead Lands, perhaps fifty yards long and thirty yards
+wide at its greatest breadth. The hollow was surrounded completely by
+ragged stone walls about fifty feet in height. These walls slanted
+inward to a startling degree. Thus while the floor of the strange spot
+was thirty yards wide, the opening above, through which showed the
+far-away sky, could scarcely have been more than half that width. The
+brook ran through the middle of the chasm, entering the upper end by a
+tunnel five feet in height and disappearing in the solid wall of rock at
+the lower end by a similar opening.
+
+On each side of the narrow stream, and running back to the rock walls,
+was a floor of smooth river-sand. Beneath an overhanging ledge on the
+side where Reivers stood were the rude skin fronts of two dugouts. A tin
+smoke-stack protruded from the larger of the two habitations; the other,
+which was high enough only to admit a man stooping far over, was merely
+a flap of hide hanging down from the rock.
+
+On the beach at the other side of the creek a fire burned beneath a
+great iron pan, the wood smoke filling the chasm with its pungent odour.
+Behind the fire a series of tunnels ran down in the sand under the
+cliffs. From the tunnel immediately behind the fire came a thin spiral
+of sluggish smoke, and Reivers knew that this tunnel was being worked
+and that the fire was being used to thaw the frozen earth.
+
+A man who resembled Moir on a small scale was at work at the
+thawing-pan, breaking the hard earth with his fingers and tossing it
+into a washing-pan at his side. He stood now with a chunk of frozen sand
+in his hand, and at sight of Reivers and Tillie he tossed the sand
+recklessly into the air and whooped.
+
+"Ha! Hast done well this time, Shanty," he cried in an accent similar to
+theirs. "Hast made tuh life endurable. A new horse for me and a woman
+for 'ee. 'Tis high time. Since Blacky went off and did not come back,
+and tuh two Indians tried to flee, we've had but one horse to do with.
+Now wilt have two. Wilt clean up in a hurry now, and live in tuh
+meanwhile."
+
+Shanty Moir laughed harshly.
+
+"How works tuh old Scot jackass to-day?" he called.
+
+The man across the creek shook his head.
+
+"He's never tuh horse he was when we first put him in harness," he
+chuckled. "Fell twice in his tracks to-day, he did, and lay there till
+Joey gave him an inch of tuh prod. Has been a good beastie, the Scot
+has, Shanty, but 'tis in my mind tuh climate does not 'gree with him.
+Scarce able to pull his load. In tuh mines at home we knocked such worn
+beasties in the head and sent them up o' tuh pit."
+
+Moir laughed again.
+
+"Hast a quaint way o' putting things, Tammy," he said. "But I mind when
+ponies were scarce we used them till they crawled their knees raw. 'Tis
+plenty o' time to knock old horse-flesh in tuh head when tuh job's
+done."
+
+They laughed together. Evidently this was a well-liked camp joke.
+
+"'Tis a well-coupled animal 'ee have there, Shanty," said the humourist
+across the water, with a jerk of the head at Reivers. "Big in tuh bone
+and solid around tuh withers. Yon squaw is a solid piece, too. Happen
+they're broke to pull double?"
+
+"Unbroke stock, Tammy," drawled Moir leisurely. "Gentleman, squaw-man,
+waster. But breaking stock's our specialty, eh, Tammy?"
+
+A muffled shout floated up from the mouth of the smoking pit before
+Tammy could reply. Instantly there followed a dull moan of pain: Moir
+and Tommy laughed knowingly.
+
+"Here comes sample of our work," said Tammy, nodding toward the tunnel.
+"Poor Joey! Has to use tuh prod to start him with each load now."
+
+A grating, shuffling sound now came from the mouth of the tunnel.
+Following it appeared the head of a man. And Reivers needed only one
+glance at the emaciated countenance to know that he was looking upon the
+father of Hattie MacGregor.
+
+"Giddap, Scotch jackass!" roared Moir in great good humour. "Pull it out
+o' there. That's tuh horse. Pull!"
+
+The man came painfully, an inch at a time, out of the pit, and looked
+across the creek at Shanty Moir. Behind him there dragged a rough wooden
+sledge loaded with lumps of earth. The man was hitched to this load by a
+harness of straps that held his arms helpless against his sides. No
+strait-jacket ever held its victim more utterly helpless than the
+contrivance which now held James MacGregor in toils as a beast of
+burden. A contrivance of straps about the ankles held his legs close
+together.
+
+So short were the traces by which the sledge was drawn that MacGregor
+could not have stood upright without having lifted the heavy load a foot
+or more from the ground. He made no attempt to stand so, but hung
+half-bowed against the harness, his eyes gleaming through the matted red
+hair over his brows straight at Shanty Moir.
+
+It was the eyes that drew and held Reivers' attention to the face,
+rather than to the man's terrible situation. James MacGregor, helpless
+beast of burden to his tormentors that he was, was not beaten. The same
+clean-cut nose, mouth and chin that Reivers remembered so well in the
+daughter were apparent in the father's pain-marked face. The eyes
+gleamed defiance. And they were wide and grey, Reivers saw, the same as
+the eyes that haunted him in memory's pictures of the girl who had not
+feared his glance.
+
+"Shanty Moir," spoke MacGregor in a voice weak but firm, "when the devil
+made you he cursed his own work. He cursed you as a misbegotten thing
+not fit for hell. The gut-eating wolverine is a brave beast compared to
+you. Skunks would run from your company. You think you have done big
+work. You fool! You cannot rob me of what belongs to me and mine; you
+cannot kill me. As sure as there is a God in Heaven, He will let me or
+mine kill you with bare hands."
+
+Moir and his man laughed in weary fashion, as if this speech were old to
+them, and Reivers was amazed at an impulse within him to throw himself
+at Shanty Moir's throat. He joined foolishly in the laughter to hide his
+confusion. What had he to do with such impulses? What business had he
+having any feeling for the poor enslaved man before him? He had come to
+Moir's camp for one purpose: to get the gold mined there, to get a new
+start in life. Was it possible that he was growing weak enough to
+experience the feeling of pity, the impulse to help the helpless?
+Nonsense! He laughed loudly. His plan was one in which silly impulses of
+this nature had no part, and he would go through with it to the end.
+
+"Well brayed, Scots jackass," said the man at the thawing-pan casually.
+"Now pull tuh load over here. Giddap-pull!"
+
+MacGregor leaned weakly against the harness, but the sledge had lodged
+and his depleted strength was insufficient to budge it.
+
+"Oh ho! Getting lazy, eh?" came from the tunnel, and a thin-faced man
+came out, a short stick with a sharp brad in his hands. "Want help, eh?
+Well, here 'tis," he chuckled, and drove the brad into MacGregor's leg.
+
+Again the strange impulse to leap to the tortured man's rescue, to kill
+his tormentor without reckoning the price or what might come after,
+stirred itself in Reivers' breast, and again he joined in the laughter
+to pass it off.
+
+MacGregor started as the iron entered his flesh and the movement
+loosened the sledge. With weak, faltering steps he drew the load
+alongside the fire, where Tammy proceeded to transfer the frozen chunks
+of earth to the thawing-pan.
+
+"Eh, hah! New cattle?" said the man with the prod when he espied Reivers
+and Tillie. "Cow and bull."
+
+"Cow--and an old ox, Joey," laughed Moir. "Has even burnt his horns off
+with hooch, and wilt go well in the harness when he's broke."
+
+"'Tis time," said Joey. "Tuh Scots jackass'll soon drop in his tracks."
+
+"Not until I've paid you out in full, you devils," said MacGregor
+quietly. "I'll give you an hour of living hell for every prod you've
+given me, you poor cur."
+
+Joey approached him and unhooked the traces from his harness with an air
+that told how well he was accustomed to such threats.
+
+"Must call it a day, Shanty," he said, loosening the straps that bound
+MacGregor's hands so the forearms were free while the upper arms
+remained bound tightly to his sides. "Old pit's full o' smoke." In bored
+sort of fashion he kicked MacGregor into the creek. "To your stable,
+jackass. Day's done."
+
+MacGregor, tripped by the traps about his ankles, fell full length in
+the water, floundered across, and crawled miserably out of sight behind
+the skin front of the smaller dugout. Moir and his two henchmen watched
+him, jeering and laughing. At a sign the two on the other side of the
+creek came across and drew close to their chief.
+
+"And now, old son," snarled Moir, swinging around on Reivers like a
+flash, "now, you slick waster--now we'll attend to 'ee."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX--JAMES MACGREGOR'S STORY
+
+
+The three men moved forward until they were within arm's reach of
+Reivers, and stood regarding him with open grins on their hairy faces.
+Reivers, reading the import of their grins, knew that they were bent
+upon enjoying themselves at his expense, and tried swiftly to guess what
+form their amusement might take. If it were only horse-play he would be
+able to continue in the helpless character he had assumed. If it were to
+be rougher than that, if they set out to break him in real earnest, he
+feared that his acting was at an end.
+
+Even for the sake of the gold that he was after he would hardly be able
+to submit, humbly and helplessly as became a drunken squaw-man, to their
+efforts to make a wreck of him. He calculated his chances of coming
+through alive if the situation developed to this extreme, and decided
+that the odds were a trifle too heavy against him.
+
+The element of surprise would be on his side, but his right shoulder
+still was weak from the old bullet-wound. With his terrible ability to
+use his feet he calculated that he could drop Moir and Tammy with broken
+bones as they rushed him. To do that he would have to drop to his back,
+and Joey, the third man, wore a long skinning-knife on his hip. No, if
+he began to fight he would never get what he had come after. He wiped
+his mouth furtively and swayed from the knees up.
+
+"I want some hooch, mister, that's what I want," he whined shakily. "You
+promised you'd give me a drink when we got here, you know you did.
+Haven't had a drop since morning. I wouldn't 'a' come if I'd known you
+were going to treat me like this."
+
+Then he did the best acting of his life. He jumped sideways and
+shuddered; he frantically plucked imaginary bugs off his coat sleeve; he
+stepped high as if stepping over something on the ground; his eyes and
+face muscles worked spasmodically.
+
+"O-ooh! Gimme a drink," he begged. "Please gimme a drink. I gotta have
+it."
+
+The grins faded from the faces before him. They knew full well the signs
+of incipient delirium tremens. Tammy laughed dryly.
+
+"Hast brought home more than an old ox and a cow, Shanty," he said.
+"Hast brought a whole menagerie. Yon stick'll have tuh Wullies in a
+minute if he's not liquored."
+
+Reivers dropped to his knees, shuddering, his arms shielding his eyes
+from imaginary beasts of the bottle.
+
+"Take 'em away, boys," he pleaded. "Kill the big ones, let the little
+ones go."
+
+With a snarl Moir leaped to his sledge and knocked the neck off a bottle
+of hooch.
+
+"Drink, you scut!" he growled. "I'll have dealings with you when you're
+sobered up."
+
+Reivers drank and began to doze. Moir kicked him upright.
+
+"Get into the shed with t'other jackass," he commanded, propelling him
+toward the dugout into which MacGregor had crawled. "And in tuh morning
+you go to work, e'en though snakes be crawling all o'er 'ee."
+
+A faintly muttered curse greeted Reivers as he crawled into the dugout.
+
+"You poor curs! What do you want with me now?" came MacGregor's voice
+from a corner of the tiny room. "You skunk----"
+
+"Easy, MacGregor Roy," whispered Reivers quietly. "It's not one of the
+'skunks.'"
+
+"MacGregor Roy!" By the light that entered by a slit in the skin-flap
+Reivers could see the Scotchman painfully lifting his head from his
+miserable bunk, as he hoarsely repeated his own name. "MacGregor Roy!
+Who are you, stranger, to call James MacGregor by his family name?"
+
+"I'm the man that Shanty Moir brought in this afternoon," whispered
+Reivers.
+
+"I know, I know," gasped MacGregor weakly. "But men do not call me
+MacGregor Roy. James MacGregor they call me, unless--unless----"
+
+"Unless they have the 'Roy' straight from the lips of your daughter,
+Hattie."
+
+For a full minute MacGregor sat stricken speechless.
+
+"Man, man! Speak!" The unfortunate man came wriggling over and laid his
+hands pleadingly on Reivers. "Don't play with me. Is my daughter Hattie
+alive and well?"
+
+"Very much alive," replied Reivers, "and as well as can be expected of a
+girl who is worrying her heart out over why her father doesn't return or
+send her word."
+
+"Have they no' guessed--has no' my brother Duncan guessed by this time?"
+gasped MacGregor. "Can not they understand that I must be dead or held
+captive since I do not return? Speak, man, tell me how 'tis with them!"
+
+Reivers waited until the poor man had become more quiet before replying
+to him.
+
+"You'd better quiet down a little MacGregor," he whispered then. "You
+can't tell when your friends might be listening, and it wouldn't do
+either of us any good if they heard what we're saying."
+
+"True," said the old man more quietly. "I'm acting like an old woman.
+But for three months I've been trapped like this, and my head fairly
+swims when I hear you speak of Hattie. How come you to know of her?"
+
+Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had been cared for at
+the MacGregor cabin.
+
+"And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to her from the black devil
+they sent to steal her? You must know, man, they taunted me by
+sending----"
+
+"I know," interrupted Reivers; and he told how he had disposed of the
+kidnapper.
+
+"You--you did that?" MacGregor clutched Reivers's hand. "You saved my
+little Hattie?"
+
+"None of that," snapped Reivers, snatching away his hand. "I did nothing
+for your little Hattie. Why should I? What is your Hattie to me? I
+simply put that black-beard out of business because I needed food and he
+had it on the sledge."
+
+"Yet you're not one of the gang here--now? You are no' anything but a
+friend of me and mine?"
+
+"A friend?" sneered Reivers. "I'll tell you, Mac: I'm here as my own
+friend, absolutely nothing else."
+
+"But Hattie--and my brother Duncan--they understand about me now."
+
+"They know you're either dead or worse," was the reply. "And they're at
+Dumont's Camp now, waiting for Moir to come there on a spree, when they
+expect to trail him back to this camp."
+
+MacGregor nodded his head weakly.
+
+"Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could be expected. Please
+Heaven, they'll soon win here. And James MacGregor will not forget what
+he owes you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter, when the time
+of reckoning comes with Moir and his poor curs."
+
+Reivers laughed coldly under his breath.
+
+"You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man who's trussed up the
+way you are."
+
+"God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will with me much longer,"
+said the Scot firmly. "It isna posseeble."
+
+"'This dog of a Moir' must be a better man than you are," taunted
+Reivers. "He fooled you and trapped you as soon as you'd found this
+mine."
+
+"Did he?" MacGregor flared up. "Shanty Moir a better man than me? Hoot,
+no! He fooled me, yes, for I didna know that he'd got word to these
+three hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him; he was my
+pardner. And when we returned with proveesions for the Winter the three
+devils were waiting for us, just inside the wall, where the creek comes
+through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha' done it. The three of them
+jumped on me from above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me.
+
+"They've kept me strapped ever since. I'm draft beast for them. Twice a
+day they feed me. And between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing
+before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half mine."
+
+"Oh, well, it doesn't look to me as if there'd be enough gold here to
+bother about," said Reivers casually. "It's nothing but a little freak
+pocket by the looks of it."
+
+"So it is. A freak pocket. It could be nothing else in this district.
+'Twas only by chance we found it, exploring the creek in here out of
+curiosity. 'Twas in the bowels of the warm spring up yon, where the
+creek starts, that the pocket was originally. The spring boiled it out
+into the creek, and the creek washed it down here in its bed of sand.
+The sand lodged here, against these rock walls. There's about a hundred
+feet of the sand, running down under the cliffs, and it's all pocket.
+Not a rich pocket, as you say, but Shanty Moir is filthy with nuggets
+and dust now, and there'll be some more in the sand that's left to work
+over.
+
+"Not a bonanza, man, but a good-sized fortune. 'Twould be enough to send
+my Hattie to school. 'Twould give her all the comforts of the world.
+'Twould make folk look up to her. And Shanty Moir, the devil's spawn,
+has it in his keeping."
+
+"And he'll probably see that it continues in his keeping, too," yawned
+Reivers.
+
+"Never!" swore MacGregor, rising to the bait. "Shanty Moir did me dirt
+too foul to prosper by it, and I'm a better man than he is, besides. The
+stuff will come into my hands, where it belongs, some way. I dinna see
+just how for the present. But the stuff, and my revenge I will have.
+E'en shackled as I am I'll have my revenge, though it's only to bite the
+windpipe out of Shanty Moir's throat like a mad dog."
+
+"Huh!" Reivers was lying face down on some blankets, apparently but
+little interested. "And suppose you do get Shanty Moir? What good will
+that do you? I'll bet Shanty's got the gold hid where nobody could find
+it without getting directions from him. Suppose you get him. Suppose you
+get all three of 'em. Shanty Moir being dead, the nuggets and dust
+probably'd be as completely lost as they were before you two boys found
+the pocket in the first place."
+
+For a long time MacGregor sat in his corner of the dugout without
+replying. Reivers could see that at times he raised his head, even
+opened his mouth as if to speak, then sank back undecided. At last he
+hunched himself forward inch by inch to the front of the dugout and
+lifted the flap.
+
+The light of day had gone from the cavern. On the sand before the larger
+dugout blazed a brisk cooking-fire. In the confined space the light from
+its flames was magnified, reflecting from rock-wall and running water,
+and illuminating brightly the miserable hole in which Reivers and
+MacGregor lay.
+
+MacGregor held up the flap for several minutes, studying Reivers, and
+though Reivers looked back with the look in his eyes that made most men
+quail, the old man's sharp grey eyes studied him unruffled, even as the
+eyes of his daughter had done before.
+
+"By the Big Nail, 'tis a man's man!" muttered MacGregor, dropping the
+flap at last. "How in the name of self-respect did the likes of you fall
+prey to the cur, Shanty Moir?"
+
+"Self-respect?" sniggered Reivers. "Did you notice me out there when you
+were laying your curse on Moir?"
+
+"Aye. You were far gone in liquor then--by the looks of you. You'll mind
+I say 'by the looks of you.' You are not in liquor now. That's what
+puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch so quickly. You were
+playing at being drunk. Now, why might that be?"
+
+"To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir thinking I'm a drunken
+squaw-man without brains or nerve enough to do anything but sponge for
+hooch."
+
+"Aye? And your reason for that?"
+
+"My reason for that?" Reivers laughed under his breath. "Why, did you
+ever hear of a more popular reason for a man risking his throat than
+gold? I heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan and your
+daughter. I need--or rather, I want money. Shanty Moir had won over you
+and had gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away from him.
+Isn't that simple?"
+
+"Simple and spoken well," said MacGregor calmly. "Will you answer me one
+question: Did you serve notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on
+this hunt?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail and do what he can
+if he speaks out fair. I take it you hardly calculated to find me here
+alive?"
+
+"No, I didn't think Moir was such an amateur as to take any chances."
+
+"Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that's why I'm alive, and no other
+reason. And finding me here alive, does it alter your plans any?"
+
+"Only a trifle. You see, I'd made up my mind to bring Moir and your
+daughter Hattie face to face to see if she could make good on her big
+talk of taking revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I see
+you're still alive--well, I won't let any little foolishness like that
+interfere with the business I've come on."
+
+"I mean about the gold, man?"
+
+Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise.
+
+"About the gold?" he repeated.
+
+"Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the gold, here, alive
+and hoping to win back with my share to my daughter Hattie--does it make
+any change in your plans?"
+
+Reivers chuckled softly.
+
+"Not in the slightest," he replied. "I came to get the stuff that's come
+out of this mine. Take a look at me. Do I look like a soft fool who'd
+let anything interfere with my plans?"
+
+MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled.
+
+"I dinna understand ye, mon," he said. "I canna make you out. By the
+look of you I'd be wishful to strike hands with you as one good man to
+another; but your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the stuff
+that's been taken out of this mine--Shanty Moir's half--I have made up my
+mind shall be yours for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from
+black shame. Will you na' strike hands on a partnership like that
+between us?"
+
+Reivers yawned.
+
+"Why should I? You're 'all in.' You can't help me any. I'll have to do
+the job of getting the gold away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I
+don't want any help, and I certainly won't make any unnecessary split."
+
+"Man," whispered MacGregor in horror, "is there naught but a piece of
+ice where your heart should be? Do you not understand it's for a poor,
+unprovided girl I'm talking? A man you might rob; but have you the
+coldness in your heart to rob my little, unfortunate Hattie?"
+
+"'Little, unfortunate Hattie!'" mocked Reivers. "Consider her robbed
+already. What then?"
+
+"A word to Shanty Moir and you're as good as dead," retorted MacGregor
+hotly.
+
+Reivers' long right arm shot out and terrible fingers clutched
+MacGregor's throat. The old man wriggled and gasped and tried to cry
+out, but Reivers held him voiceless and helpless and smiled.
+
+"One word to Shanty Moir, and--you see?" he said, releasing his hold.
+"Then your little, unfortunate Hattie would be robbed for sure."
+
+"Man--man--what are you, man or devil?" gasped MacGregor.
+
+"Devil, if it suits you," said Reivers. "But, remember, I'll manage to
+be within reach of you when Shanty Moir's about, and I rather fancy Moir
+would be glad to have me put you out of business. Now listen to me. I've
+no objection to your getting out of here alive--if you can. I've no
+objection to your getting your revenge on Moir, if you can, provided
+that none of this interferes with my getting what I came after. You know
+now what I can and will do if necessary. Your life lies right there." He
+opened and closed his right hand significantly. "Well, I'll trade you
+your life for a little information. Where does Shanty keep his gold?"
+
+MacGregor ceased gasping. He began to laugh. He leaned over and laughed.
+He rocked from side to side.
+
+"Man, man! Do you not know that? That proves you're only human!" he
+chuckled. "You came out here, like a lamb led to slaughter, to find
+where Shanty Moir keeps his gold. You were on the trail with Shanty. You
+had him where it was only one man to one. Well--well, the joke is too
+good to keep: Shanty Moir, day and night, wears a big buckskin belt
+about the middle of him, and the gold--the gold is in the belt!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL--THE WHITE MAN'S SENTIMENT
+
+
+It was very still in the dugout. Suddenly Reivers leaned forward to see
+if MacGregor were telling the truth. Satisfied with his scrutiny he sat
+back and laughed softly.
+
+"In a belt, around his middle, eh?" he said. "Good work. Mr. Moir is
+cautious enough to be interesting."
+
+"Cautious!" MacGregor threw up the flap of the dugout. "Look out there,
+man."
+
+Reivers looked. On the sand directly before the door lay chained a huge,
+husky dog, an ugly, starved brute with mad eyes.
+
+"Try but to crawl outside the shack," suggested MacGregor.
+
+Reivers tried. His head had no more than appeared outside when the dog
+sprang. The chain jerked him back as his teeth clashed where Reivers'
+head had been. He leaped thrice more, striving to hurl himself into the
+dugout, then returned to his place and lay down, growling.
+
+"Very cautious," agreed Reivers.
+
+He peered carefully out toward the cooking-fire. The fire had died down
+now and was deserted. By the sounds coming from the larger dugout
+Reivers knew that Moir and his men were occupied with their supper,
+supplemented by occasional drafts of liquor, and once more he crawled
+out upon the sand.
+
+With a snarl the great dog leaped again, his bared fangs flashing in the
+night. The snarl died in a choke. Reivers' long arms flashed out and his
+fingers caught the dog by the throat so swiftly and surely that not
+another sound came from between its teeth. It was a big, strong dog and
+it died hard, but out there on the sand Reivers sat, silently keeping
+his hold till the last sign of life had gone from the brute's body. Not
+a sound rose to attract attention from the larger dugout.
+
+When the animal was quite dead Reivers crawled forward and untied the
+chain that held it to a rock. Noiselessly he crawled farther on and
+noiselessly slipped the carcass into the brook. The brisk current caught
+it and dragged it down. Reivers waited until he saw the thing disappear
+into the dark tunnel at the lower end of the cavern, then returned to
+the dugout and quietly lay down on his blankets.
+
+"God's blood!" gasped MacGregor and sat silent.
+
+"Well," yawned Reivers, "our friend Moir is short one dog."
+
+"You crazy fool!" MacGregor was grinding his teeth. "Ha' you no' thought
+of what Shanty Moir will do when he finds what you've done to his
+watch-dog?"
+
+"What I have done?" Reivers laughed his idiotic squaw-man's laugh.
+"D'you suppose a poor old bum like me could throttle a man-eater like
+that beast? You'll be the one to be blamed for it. Why should I touch
+Moir's dog? Moir and I came here together, chummy as a couple of
+thieves."
+
+"You would not--you could not do that? You could not put it on me? Man,
+they'd drop me in the river after the beast, if you got them to believe
+it."
+
+"Well?" said Reivers gently.
+
+The Scot bit his lip and grew crafty.
+
+"Well," he said, "there'd be only you left then to do the dirt-hauling
+for Shanty Moir."
+
+Reivers nodded appreciatively.
+
+"You deserve something for that, Mac," said he.
+
+He lay silent for a few minutes. Then he chuckled suddenly as if he had
+thought of a good joke.
+
+"Watch me closely now, Mac," he ordered, "and if you ever feel like
+speaking that word to Moir, I'll holler at you worse than this."
+
+He rolled himself to the front of the dugout, and suddenly there rang
+out in the cavern such a shriek of terror as stopped the blood in the
+veins of all who heard. Twice Reivers uttered his horrible cry. Then he
+began to shout drunkenly:
+
+"Take him off, take him away! Oh, oh, oh! Big dog coming out of the
+river. Take him away. Big dog swimming in the river. Take him away.
+Help, help!"
+
+Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout in advance of the
+others. He came with a six-shooter in his hand, and the gun covered
+Reivers, huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a vise. But
+Reivers observed that Moir stopped well out of reach.
+
+"What tuh ----!" roared Muir, as he noted the absence of the watch-dog.
+"What devil's work----"
+
+"The dog!" chattered Reivers. "Big dog; big as a house. Came out of the
+river. Tried to jump on me. Jumped back into the river.
+Swimming--swimming out there."
+
+Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till it pointed straight
+at Reivers's forehead. He did not step forward, but remained well out of
+reach.
+
+"Steady, old son," he said quietly, "steady, or this'll go off."
+
+Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended to come back to his
+senses.
+
+"Gimme a drink, mister," he pleaded. "I'm seeing things. I was sure
+there was a big dog out there. I'd 'a' sworn I saw him jump into the
+river. Now I see there isn't, but gimme a drink--quick!"
+
+"Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey," snapped Moir over his
+shoulder. "Wilt see about this." He turned the weapon on the cowering
+MacGregor. "Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What's been
+done here; where's Tige?"
+
+"Was it a real dog?" cried Reivers before MacGregor could reply. "I saw
+something--he went into the river."
+
+"Speak, you!" said Moir to the Scotchman. "Speak quick."
+
+"He's telling you straight," replied MacGregor, with a nod toward
+Reivers. "The dog went into the river. I saw him go down, out of sight."
+
+"Out of sight," muttered Reivers, swallowing the drink which Joey had
+brought him. "So it was a real dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he
+jumped back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he went into the
+river and never came out."
+
+Moir stepped over and examined the rock from which Reivers had slipped
+the dog's chain.
+
+"Tammy," he said quietly. Tammy came obediently, stopping a good two
+paces away from Moir.
+
+"See that?" said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy nodded.
+
+"You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?"
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and into tuh river and is
+lost."
+
+"Shanty, I swear----"
+
+"Swear all you want to, lad," said Moir and dropped him cold with a
+light tap on the jaw.
+
+"Pick him up." Moir's moving revolver had seemed to cover every one
+present, but now the muzzle hesitated on Joey. "Carry him into tuh
+shack."
+
+As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little dugout, but stopped
+well out of reach of a possible rush.
+
+"Old son," he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed at Reivers' right
+eye, "old son, if you yell again tonight let it be your prayers, because
+you'll need 'em. Dost hear? I suspect 'twas thy yelling scared Tige into
+the river. Wouldst send thee down after him, only I've use for you in
+tuh pits. Crawl in and lie still if wouldst live till daylight, ---- you.
+Wilt pay for the loss of Tige, I warn you that."
+
+He turned away and Reivers fell back on his blankets chuckling boyishly.
+He was in fine fettle. The Snow-Burner was coming back to his old form,
+and in the delight of the moment's difficulties he had temporarily lost
+the softening memories that had disturbed him of late.
+
+"How was it, old-timer?" he laughed. "Could you pick any flaw in it?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head in wonder.
+
+"I had a man go fey on me once, up on the Slave Lake trail," he said
+slowly. "He let go just such yells as came from your mouth now. I'm
+thinking no man could yell so lest he's fey himself, or has travelled
+wi' auld Nickie and stole some of his music."
+
+"Quite so. Exactly the impression I wished to create," said Reivers. "I
+thank you for your compliment, but your analysis is all wrong. Complete
+control of your vocal organs, that's all. You see I wished to let out
+just such a yell. It was rather hard, because my vocal organs never had
+made such a sound before, and they protested. I forced them to do it.
+
+"The man with the superior mind can force his body to do anything.
+Understand, Mac? It's the superior mind that counts. If you'd had a mind
+superior to Moir's you'd be top dog here, with Moir fetching bones for
+you. As it is, you're doing the fetching, and Moir's growing fat. And
+here I come along, with a mind superior to Moir's, and I'm going to be
+top dog now and gobble the whole proceeds of your squabbling. The mind,
+Mac, the grey stuff in the little bone-box at the top of your neck,
+that's all that counts. Nothing else. And I've got the best grey matter
+in this camp, and I'm going to be top dog as a matter of course."
+
+MacGregor flared up hotly.
+
+"You say, that's all that counts?" he said. "D'you mean to tell me to my
+face that after I'd struck hands with a man to be my partner, as I did
+with Shanty Moir, that I'd turn on him and play him the scurvy trick he
+played me, just because I could? Well, if you say that, mon, you lie,
+and I throw the word smack in your teeth. Go back on my hand-shake, just
+to be top dog and get the bones! God's blood! There's other things
+better than bones, and there's other things that count besides a
+superior mind. How many times do you suppose I could have shot Shanty
+Moir after we'd found this mine?"
+
+"Not once. You didn't have it in you. You couldn't do it. If you could
+you'd have been the superior man, and you're not."
+
+MacGregor thought it over.
+
+"You're right, mon, I couldn't do it. I thank God I couldn't. I'd rather
+be the slave I am at present than be able to do things like that."
+
+"Sentiment, Mac; foolish, unreasonable sentiment."
+
+"Sentiment!" MacGregor spoke hotly, then suddenly subsided. "Yes, you're
+right, lad," he admitted after awhile. "It's naught but sentiment. I see
+now. It's the kind of sentiment that white men die for, and that makes
+them the boss men of the world. Well, lad, I am sorry to hear you talk
+as if 'twas only your skin was white. But I do not see you top dog of
+this camp yet. I'll warrant Shanty Moir didn't allow you to slip a gun
+or knife into camp. And did you notice the little tool he had in his
+hand?"
+
+"A six-shooter," said Reivers. "A crude weapon compared to a good mind,
+MacGregor."
+
+"Aye? I'm glad to hear you say so, lad, for I've only a mind, such as it
+is, left me for a weapon, and I'm quite sure I must overcome the six-gun
+in Shanty's hand ere I ever win back to lay eyes on my daughter Hattie."
+
+"Your daughter Hattie!" Reivers sat up, jarred out of his composure.
+"You forget your daughter Hattie; you hear, MacGregor? And now shut up.
+There's been enough yawping to-night; I want to sleep."
+
+He rolled himself tightly in his blankets. MacGregor crawled miserably
+to his corner and huddled down to sleep as best he could in his cruel
+shackles. The dugout grew as still as a tomb. Faint sounds came from the
+place where Moir and his men were living, but as the night grew older
+these ceased, and a silence as complete and primitive as it knew before
+man bent his steps thither fell over the isolated cavern.
+
+Reivers did not sleep. MacGregor's last words had done the work. "My
+daughter Hattie." Hattie with the clean, pure face of her. Hattie with
+the wide grey eyes; with the look of pain upon her. Curse MacGregor!
+What business had he mentioning that name? Reivers had forgotten, or
+thought he had. He was himself again. And then this old fool--curse him!
+Curse the whole MacGregor tribe. And especially did he curse himself for
+being weak and foolish enough to permit such trifles to interfere with
+his sleep.
+
+He dozed away toward daylight and dreamed that Hattie MacGregor was
+looking at him. The hard look on her face had softened a little, and she
+said she was glad he had sent Neopa back to her lover, Nawa.
+
+"---- you, get out of there!"
+
+In his half-waking Reivers fancied it was his own voice driving the
+picture from his mind.
+
+"Get out, beasts, and get out quick!"
+
+It was Shanty Moir's voice and he was calling to MacGregor and Reivers
+to get up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI--SHANTY MOIR--TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE
+
+
+Reivers came forth from the dugout, stooped and shaking, the drunken
+squaw-man's morning condition to perfection, but in reality alert and
+watchful for the opportunity he was seeking. He had had a bad night, and
+he was anxious to have the job over with and get away with his loot to
+some place where he could forget.
+
+A surprise awaited him outside. Two tin plates loaded with meat and a
+tin cup half full of liquor were placed on the sand before the dugout.
+Ten feet away stood Shanty Moir, his six-shooter covering the two men as
+they emerged. With the instinct of the wild animal that he was, Moir
+knew the value of clamping his hold firmly on his victims in the cold
+grey of morning.
+
+"Drink and eat," he said, satisfied with the humility with which the two
+went to their food. "Eat fast, or you'll go into tuh pit with tuh belly
+empty."
+
+"I thought you hired me for a cook, mister," whined Reivers, as he
+raised the tin cup to his lips. "I want to cook."
+
+"Cook, ----!" sneered Moir. "Tuh squaw'll do all tuh cooking done here.
+Draft beast with tuh Scotch jackass, that's what 'ee be, old ox. Hurry
+up. Wilt have a little of tuh prod?"
+
+Out of the corner of his eye Reivers saw that MacGregor was eying the
+cup of liquor wistfully. Moved by an impulse that was strange to him he
+took a small drink and held out the cup to his companion. As MacGregor
+eagerly reached for it Moir's gun crashed out and the cup flew from
+Reivers's hand.
+
+"Tuh motto of this camp is, 'No treating,'" chuckled Moir. "Hooch is
+good on tuh trail. We're on tuh job now. You get liquor, old son,
+because 'tis medicine to you, and any hooch drinked here, I must
+prescribe."
+
+Across the creek, Tammy, at work building a fire under the thawing-pan,
+heard his chief's words and growled faintly.
+
+"Yes, and 'ee prescribe terrible small doses, too, Shanty," he muttered.
+"A good thing can be over-played. Hast no reason for refusing Joey and
+me a nip before starting work this morning."
+
+Moir, moving like a soft-footed lynx, was across the creek and behind
+Tammy before the latter realised what was coming. From his position Moir
+now dominated the whole camp, and a sickly smile appeared on Tammy's
+mouth.
+
+"Aw, Shanty!" he whined. "Didst only mean it for a joke. Can take a joke
+from an old chum, can't 'ee, Shanty?"
+
+"Get into tuh pit, Tammy," said Moir quietly, pointing with his gun to
+the tunnel where sounds indicated that Joey already was at work.
+
+"Aw, Shanty----"
+
+"Get in!"
+
+Slack-jawed with terror Tammy crawled into the dark tunnel.
+
+"Eh, Joey, ma son!" called Moir down the pit-mouth.
+
+"Aye?" came back the answer.
+
+"Dost 'ee, too, think 'ee should have a drink this morn'?"
+
+"Aye, Shanty," replied the unsuspecting Joey.
+
+"Have a hot one, then!" roared Shanty and kicked a blazing log from
+Tammy's fire into the pit.
+
+A mingling of shrieks and protests greeted its arrival.
+
+"Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not take a joke?"
+
+"Am taking it now, ma sons," laughed Moir, and kicked more brands down
+the tunnel.
+
+Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the tiny pit, Joey and
+Tammy essayed to crawl out. Bang! went Moir's six-shooter and they
+hastily retreated. The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down
+at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the two unfortunate
+men were being suffocated. Moir waited until the faintness of the sounds
+told how far gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers with his
+revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit by this time.
+
+"Step down and drag 'em out, old son," he said. "Come now, no hanging
+back. Tuh trigger on this gun is filed down so she pulls very light."
+
+Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling with fear, and
+toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious men out, though he could
+have walked away with one under each arm.
+
+"Throw water on 'em. Splash 'em good."
+
+Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting up, coughing and sneezing,
+and trying their best to make Moir believe they had only been joking.
+
+"Good enough, ma sons; so was I," chuckled Moir. "Now back to tuh job,
+and if ever you doubt who's top man here you'll stay in tuh pit till
+you're browned well enough to eat. Dost hear me?"
+
+"Aye, Shanty," said the two men humbly, and hurried back to their tasks.
+
+"And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and get into tuh harness,"
+commanded Moir.
+
+He continued to hold the gun in his hand and motioned to the sledge near
+the thawing-pan. High side-boards had been placed on the sledge, making
+it capable of holding twice its former load, and a looped rope
+supplemented the traces to which MacGregor was so ignominiously hitched.
+
+"Take hold of the rope, old son," directed Moir.
+
+He did not approach as MacGregor resignedly led the way to the sledge.
+Tammy turned from his thawing-pan to hitch the Scotchman to his traces
+and to strap down his hands. Moir stood back, the gun in his hand,
+dominating all three.
+
+"Now into tuh pit; Joey's got a load waiting," he commanded. "And one
+whine out of you, old ox, and you get the prod. Hi-jah! Giddap!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII--THE SNOW-BURNER WORKS FOR TWO
+
+
+With MacGregor leading the way, Reivers humbly picked up his rope and
+helped drag the sledge into the mine. The tunnel, high and broad enough
+only for two men to crawl abreast, ran at a steep slant into the sand
+for probably twenty-five feet. At its end it spread into a small room in
+which Joey was at work, chopping loose chunks of frozen earth.
+
+One glance around and Reivers knew from experience that this room had
+been the home of the pocket, and that, unless the signs lied, the pocket
+soon would be worked out. Judging by the extent of the excavation the
+pocket had been a good-sized one, and the amount of dust and nuggets
+taken from it undoubtedly would foot up to a neat sum. Yes, it would be
+a tidy fortune. It would be plenty to give him a new start in life,
+plenty to pay him for the trouble he had gone to, plenty even to pay him
+for the baseness of his present position.
+
+He obeyed Joey meekly when ordered, with curses and insults, to load the
+sledge. He could have throttled Joey down there in the mine without a
+sound coming up to warn those above of what was happening, but Moir's
+conduct of the morning had made an impression upon Reivers. A man who
+kept himself out of reach, who kept his six-shooter pointed at you all
+the time, and who could shoot tin cups out of your moving hand, was not
+a man to be despised.
+
+The first hour of work that day convinced Moir and his henchmen that
+their original unflattering estimate of Reivers was correct. Even a
+close observer, regarding him during that period of probation, would
+have seen nothing to indicate that he was anything but what Shanty Moir
+had judged him to be. A miserable, broken-down squaw-man, without a will
+of his own, and only one ambition--to clamour for as much liquor as
+possible--that was the character that Reivers played perfectly for the
+benefit of Moir and his two men.
+
+At first, they kept an eye on him, watching to see if by any chance the
+old fool might be dangerous. They discovered that he would be dangerous
+if turned loose--to their supply of liquor. Beyond that he had,
+apparently, not a single aim in the world. His physical weakness, they
+soon discovered, was exactly what was to be expected of a whisky bloat.
+He was able to help haul the sledge-loads of frozen earth up the incline
+of the shaft, and that was all. Even that left him puffing and
+trembling.
+
+"Is an old ox, as 'ee said, Shanty, with even tuh horns burnt off him by
+tuh hooch," said Joey, after the first few loads. "Keep a little o' tuh
+liquor running down his throat each day and he'll be a good draft beast
+to us. Nothing to fear o' him. Didst well when 'ee picked him out,
+chief."
+
+They stopped watching him. He was harmless. Which was exactly the frame
+of mind which Reivers had worked to create.
+
+MacGregor alone knew how cleverly Reivers was playing his part, and he
+regarded his new companion in misery with greater awe and swore beneath
+his breath in unholy admiration. He had excellent opportunity to
+appreciate Reivers's ability to play the part of a weakling, for the
+Snow-Burner, when not observed, caught his free hand in MacGregor's
+traces and pulled the full weight of the heavy sledge as if it had been
+a boy's plaything.
+
+"Eh, mon!" gasped the weakened Scotchman in relief. "I begin to
+comprehend now. 'Tis a surprise you're planning for Shanty Moir. Oh,
+aye! 'Tis a braw joke. But you maun l'ave me finish him, man; 'tis my
+right. And I thank you and will repay you well for the favour you are
+doing me in my present bunged-up condition."
+
+"Favour your eye!" snapped Reivers. "It's easier to pull the whole thing
+than to have you dragging on it. Don't think I'm doing it for your sake.
+You'll have a rude awakening, my friend, if you're building any hopes on
+me."
+
+"I dinna understand you," said MacGregor with a shake of his head.
+"You're different from any man I ever met. But at all events, you've
+made the loads lighter, and I think I must have perished soon had you
+not done so."
+
+"Shut up!" hissed Reivers irritably. "I tell you I'm doing it because
+it's easier for me."
+
+His attitude toward the old man was brutally domineering when they were
+alone and openly abusive when they were in the presence of Moir or the
+others. He showered foul epithets upon him, pretended to shoulder the
+greater part of the work on him, and abused him in a fashion that won
+the approval of the three brutes over them.
+
+"Make him do his share, old sonny," roared Moir. "Wilt have tuh prod?
+Joey, give him tuh prod so he can poke up tuh jackass when he lags
+back."
+
+"Don't need no prod," boasted Reivers. "I can handle him without any
+prod. Come on, pull up there, you loafer. Think I'm going to do it all?"
+
+MacGregor on such occasions would hold his head low to hide the gleam in
+his eyes and the grin that strove for room on his tightly pressed lips.
+His harness was hanging slack; Reivers took more of the load upon
+himself with every curse that he uttered.
+
+All through the day it was Reivers' strength that pulled the heavy
+sledge up the dirt incline of the tunnel, and at night, when the day's
+work was done, and MacGregor, tottering feebly toward his bunk, fell
+helpless through the dugout's flap, Reivers picked him up, laid him down
+gently and placed his own blanket beneath his head.
+
+"God bless you, lad!" whispered MacGregor.
+
+"Shut up!" hissed Reivers. "I don't want any talk like that."
+
+He looked down at the prostrate man for a moment. Then with a muttered
+curse he unloosened the straps that bound MacGregor's arms to his sides
+and hurled himself over to his own side of the shack. He was very angry
+with himself. Pity and succour for the helpless had never before been a
+part of his creed. Why should he trouble about MacGregor?
+
+"I'll have to strap you up again in the morning," he flung out suddenly,
+"but it won't hurt to have your hands free for the night. Shut up--lay
+still! I hear somebody coming."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII--"THE PENALTY OF A WHITE MAN'S MIND"
+
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" It was Tillie who came, bearing the evening food, and
+Reivers crept out on the sand to meet her. "Oh, Snow-Burner," she
+whispered quietly, "I am weary of this camp. The air is bad, and the
+country is not open. It is in my heart to poison Iron Hair as soon as
+the Snow-Burner says we are ready to go from this place."
+
+Reivers stared at her. A short while ago he would not have been shocked
+in the slightest degree to have heard this--to her, natural speech--fall
+from Tillie's lips. But of late another woman, another kind of woman,
+had been in his thoughts, and Tillie's words left him speechless for the
+moment.
+
+The squaw continued placidly--
+
+"The Snow-Burner comes here after gold?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And when he has the gold we go away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good. The pig, Iron Hair, wears a great belt of buckskin about his
+middle. The gold is in there, much of it. I will poison him to-night,
+and we will take the belt and go away from here in the morning."
+
+Reivers made no reply. Here was success offered him without so much as a
+move of his hand. He need have no part in it, none at all. Tillie would
+bring him the gold belt. That was what he had come for; and hitherto he
+had never let anything in the world stand between him and the
+gratification of his desires. Yet he hesitated.
+
+"Is there more gold here than Iron Hair wears in his belt?" asked
+Tillie.
+
+Reivers shook his head.
+
+"Then why wait?" Her whisper was full of amazement. "It is not like the
+Snow-Burner. Was there ever a man who could make him do his will? And
+yet now the Snow-Burner labours for Iron Hair like a woman."
+
+"Like a woman?" He repeated her bold words in surprise, while she sat
+humbly awaiting the careless, back-hand blow which knocked her rolling
+on the sand. "And was that hand like the hand of a woman?" he asked.
+
+Tillie picked herself up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. It was long
+since the Snow-Burner had struck her strongly.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" she whispered proudly as she crawled back to his
+side. "Why do we wait? It is all ready. The Snow-Burner knows where the
+gold is that he came for. Tillie will do her share. The sleep-medicine
+is sewed in the corner of my blanket. There is enough to kill this big
+pig, Iron Hair, and his men three times over. Will not the Snow-Burner
+give the sign for Tillie to put the sleep-medicine in their food? Then
+they will sleep and not awaken, and the Snow-Burner and Tillie can go
+away with the gold. Was it not so that the Snow-Burner wished to do?"
+
+Reivers nodded. That was what he wished.
+
+It was very simple. Only a nod. After that--the sleep-medicine, the
+tasteless Indian poison, the secret of which Tillie possessed, and which
+she would have used on a hundred men had Reivers given the word.
+
+Yes, it was very simple--except that he could not forget Hattie
+MacGregor. The memory of her each hour had grown clearer, more
+torturing. Because of it he had taken the killing load of work from her
+father's shoulders; because of it he was growing weak. He swore
+mutteringly as he thought of it. He had permitted her memory to soften
+him, to make a boy of him. But now he was himself again. Tillie's words
+had done their work. He turned toward the squaw, and she saw by the look
+in his eyes that the Snow-Burner at last was going to give the fatal
+sign.
+
+"To-night," she pleaded. "Let it be to-night. It is a bad camp here. The
+air is not good. Iron Hair is a pig. Let me give the sleep-medicine
+to-night; then we go from here in the morning--together."
+
+She crept closer to him, slyly smiling up at him; and suddenly Reivers
+flung her away with a movement of loathing and sprang up, tall and
+straight.
+
+"No," he said quietly, "not to-night." And Tillie crouched at his feet.
+
+"Snow-Burner," she whispered, "I hear Iron Hair and his men talk. They
+go away soon. They take the gold with them. Does not the Snow-Burner
+want the gold?"
+
+Reivers looked down upon her. He was standing up, stiff and proud, as he
+should stand, but as he had not stood since he had begun to play at
+being a drunken squaw-man.
+
+"I do not want you to help me get the gold," he said slowly. "I do not
+want you to give Iron Hair the sleep-medicine, to-night, or any night. I
+will take the gold from Iron Hair without your help. I have spoken."
+
+He stood looking down at her, and Tillie, looking up at him, once more
+was reminded that he was a white man and that the vast gulf between them
+never might be bridged. Wearily, hopelessly, she rose to her feet.
+
+"The Snow-Burner has spoken; I have heard," she whispered, and went
+humbly back into the large dugout.
+
+Reivers laughed a small laugh of bitterness as he heard the flap drop
+behind her. He threw his head far back and gazed up at the slit of
+starlit sky that showed above the mouth of the cavern, and for once in
+his life he felt the common insignificance of human-kind alone in the
+vast scheme of Nature. He was weak; he had thrown away the easy way to
+success; he had let the memory of Hattie MacGregor's face, flaring
+before his eyes in the instant that Tillie thrust her lips up to his,
+beat him.
+
+He threw up his great arms and held them out, tense and hard as bars of
+living steel. He felt of his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his legs,
+and he laughed sardonically.
+
+"Body, you're just as superior to other men's bodies as you ever were,"
+he mused. "Yes, Body, you're just as fit to rend and prey on others as
+ever. But you're handicapped now. You're not permitted to do things as
+you used to do them. Body, you're paying the penalty of being burdened
+with a white man's mind."
+
+MacGregor looked up as Reivers re-entered the dugout bearing the evening
+food. A tiny fire in one corner lighted up the room and by its
+flickering flames he saw Reivers' face.
+
+"Blood o' God!" whispered the old man in awe. "What's come over you,
+man?"
+
+He rose on his elbow and peered more closely.
+
+"Man--man--you ha' not overcome Shanty Moir? You have not finished him
+without letting me----"
+
+Reivers laughed.
+
+"What are you talking about? Do I look as if I'd been fighting?"
+
+MacGregor studied him seriously.
+
+"I donno," said he slowly. "I donno that you look as if you had been
+fighting. But you come in with your head high up, and the look in your
+eyes of a man who has conquered. That I do know. Tell me, lad, what's
+taken place wi' you outside?"
+
+"None of your business," snapped Reivers. "Here's your supper." And he
+returned to his side of the dugout to sit down to think.
+
+He was on his mettle now. He had put to one side the easy, certain way
+to success that Tillie had offered. Success was not to be so easy as he
+had thought. Thus far it had been easy. He had met Moir, he had won his
+way into the mine, he had learned where the gold was hidden, all as he
+had planned. Remained to get the gold and get safely away. The time to
+do it in was short.
+
+Reivers' experienced miner's eyes had told him that the pocket was
+perilously near to being mined out. Any day, any hour now, and the
+pay-streak which they were following might end in barren dirt. That
+would be the end of his opportunity. Moir and his men would waste no
+time in the Dead Lands after making their cleanup. They would pack and
+travel at once, southward, to the railroad. They would not permit even
+so harmless an individual as a sodden squaw-man to trail them. Hence,
+Reivers knew that he must find or make his opportunity without waste of
+time and strike the instant it was found or made.
+
+He had been unable to find an opportunity that first day. Moir in his
+camp was a different man from Moir on the trail. He was the boss man
+here, and Reivers granted him ungrudged admiration for it. Liquor was
+his master on the trail; here he was master of it. His treatment of Joey
+and Tammy in the morning had explained his attitude on that question too
+clearly to make it worth while to attempt to entice him into a bout at
+drinking. Moir was boss here, boss of himself and others, and he always
+had his six-shooter handy to prove it.
+
+Tammy and Joey wore knives at their hips, but no guns. Moir's 30.40
+rifle hung carelessly on a nail near the door of his dugout. This had
+puzzled Reivers at first. Would a bad man like Moir be so simple as to
+leave his rifle where any one might lay hands on it, and carry a
+six-shooter in a manner to provoke a gun-fight? When he was ordered to
+carry a pail of water to the dugout Reivers managed to take a careful
+look at the rifle, and the puzzle was explained. The breech-block had
+been taken out and the fine weapon was no more deadly than any club
+eight pounds in weight.
+
+His respect for Moir had increased with this discovery. Evidently Moir
+was not so thick-headed after all. He took no chances. The only
+effective shooting-iron in camp was his six-shooter and, with this he
+was thoroughly master of the situation.
+
+In the first hour Reivers had noticed that Moir had a system of guarding
+himself. It was the system of the primitive fighting man and it
+consisted solely of: let no man get at your back. At no time, whether in
+the mine, at the washing-pans, in the open, or in the dugout did Moir
+permit any one to get behind him. He made no distinction. In the pit he
+stood with Joey before him. At the pans he worked behind Tammy. When the
+others grouped together he whirled as smoothly as a lynx if any one made
+to pass in his rear. Even when he sat at ease in the dugout with Tillie
+he placed his back against the bare stone wall at the rear of the room.
+So much Reivers had seen during his first day in the camp.
+
+"Does he sleep soundly at night?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"Who?" asked MacGregor.
+
+"Moir, of course."
+
+"Soundly?" The Scotchman gritted his teeth. "Aye as soundly as a lynx
+lying down by its kill in a wolf country."
+
+Reivers smiled a grim smile. There was no chance, then, of rushing
+Shanty Moir in his sleep. It would be harder to get the gold and get
+away than he had expected. In fact, the difficulties of it presented
+quite a problem. He liked problems, did the Snow-Burner, and his smile
+grew more grim as he rolled himself in his blankets and lay down to
+wait, dream-tortured by pictures of Hattie MacGregor, for the coming of
+daylight of the day in which he had resolved to force the problem to
+solution.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV--THE MADNESS OF "HELL-CAMP" REIVERS
+
+
+The day opened as the day before had opened. A bellow from Shanty Moir,
+and Reivers strapped MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled
+out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood a distance away, the
+big six-shooter balanced easily in his hand. But this morning Joey and
+Tammy, over by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance of their
+two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly sensed something new and
+sinister afoot. At the sight of MacGregor's decrepitude, as, stiff and
+tottering, he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy strove vainly to
+conceal the wolfish grins that appeared on their ugly faces.
+
+"Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep no longer," said Tammy.
+"Hast been a fair animal for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on
+his oats no more."
+
+"One fair day's work left in him," said Joey, appraising MacGregor
+shrewdly. "Will knock off a little early, eh, Shanty, so's to have tuh
+light to see him swim."
+
+"Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of dust," replied Shanty,
+and the three roared fiendishly together.
+
+"You poor, misbegotten spawn," said MacGregor, quietly beginning to eat,
+eyeing them one after the other. "I'll live to spit on the shamed
+corpses of the lot of you."
+
+As the day's work began, Reivers started to calculate each move that he
+and Moir made with a view to discovering the opportunity he was looking
+for. All that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without giving the
+latter an opportunity to use his gun.
+
+The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and Tammy armed with
+knives, he accepted as a matter of course. But a six-shooter in the
+hands of a man who could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade too
+much even for him to venture against. The manner in which Moir had shot
+up the tin cup the morning before proved how alert and sure was his
+trigger-finger. To make the suspicion of a move toward him, with the gun
+in his hand, would have spelled instant ruin.
+
+As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was more vigilant than ever. He
+kept far away from the pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or
+hanging ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first load of
+sand he understood why.
+
+The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing the drippings of dust
+washed down from the pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir
+was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of affairs. The
+fortune was in his grasp; he would break camp and be off in the same
+hour that the sand began to run low-grade.
+
+He took no part in the work to-day. He merely stood and watched. And
+Reivers watched back, and the hours passed, and the short day began to
+draw to a close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty Moir
+and live had presented itself.
+
+As the early twilight began to creep down into the cavern, the ugly
+grins with which Joey and Tammy regarded MacGregor began to increase.
+Suddenly Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw up both hands.
+
+"Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!" he shouted.
+
+"All out!" came Moir's bellow, as if he had been waiting for the signal.
+
+Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came over and stood behind
+Reivers and MacGregor who came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them.
+
+"Take that load down yonder!" ordered Moir, pointing to the black tunnel
+into which the creek disappeared in leaving the cavern.
+
+Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces behind the sledge. Moir,
+gun in hand, walked ten feet behind them.
+
+"Whoa!" he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor had drawn up against the
+cliff beside the stream's exit. "You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma
+sons. Then over with it quick."
+
+With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor's traces. They held him
+between them, and in his bound and weakened condition he was unable to
+struggle or turn around.
+
+Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor into the deep water
+in the tunnel. He sank like a stone and the current sucked him in.
+
+"Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!" laughed Moir, but he laughed a
+trifle too soon.
+
+In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into the darkness of the
+tunnel his face bobbed up above the waters. He looked up, and looked
+straight into Reivers's eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was the
+same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor the day when
+Reivers had left her cabin.
+
+Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad. He hit Tammy so hard and
+true that he flew through the air and struck against Moir. The next
+instant Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water, groping
+for MacGregor, while the current swept him into the total darkness.
+
+He heard the bullet from Moir's revolver strike the water behind him in
+the instant that his hands found MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he
+pulled the old man's head above water; then the current whirled him and
+his burden away. It whisked him downstream with a power irresistible. It
+threw him from side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked him
+and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools and spewed them up again.
+
+He bumped his head against the stone roof of the tunnel and swore. The
+roof was a scant foot above the water. He put his hand up. The roof was
+getting closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was only room
+for their upturned faces above the water.
+
+Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the end! The joke was on
+him. After all he had gone through, he was to drown like a silly fool
+through a fool's impulse.
+
+Presently roof and water came together. For a moment Reivers fought with
+his vast strength, holding his own for an instant against the current,
+hanging on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort. The
+current proved too strong. It sucked them under; the water closed above
+them. They were whirled and buffeted to the last breath of life in them,
+and then suddenly their heads slipped above water and they were looking
+straight up at the gray Winter sky.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV--A SURPRISE FOR SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers caught hold of a spear of rock the instant his head came out of
+water, and held on. He did not try to think or understand at first.
+Sufficient to know that he was alive and to pump his lungs full of the
+air they were crying for. He held MacGregor under his left arm, and he
+rather wondered that he hadn't let him go in that moment when he went
+under. MacGregor was beginning to revive, too. Reivers looked around.
+
+There was not much to see. They were in a tiny opening in the rocks, a
+yard or two in length. It was a duplicate of Moir's cavern on a
+miniature scale, except that here the rock walls were not high or
+impossible to climb. For this space the brook showed itself once more to
+the sun, then vanished again under the cliffs.
+
+"Is it Heaven?" gasped MacGregor, only half conscious.
+
+"Nearer hell," laughed Reivers.
+
+He lifted himself and his burden out of the water to a resting-place on
+a shelf of rock. For a minute or two he sat looking up at the rock walls
+and the grey sky above them. He looked down at the water, at the spot
+where they had been spewed from death back into life. And then he leaped
+upright and laughed, laughed so that the rocks rang with it, laughed so
+that MacGregor's senses cleared and he looked at his saviour in
+consternation. His laughter was the uncontrollable, heart-free laughter
+of the man who suddenly sees a great joke upon his enemy.
+
+He smote MacGregor between the shoulder-blades so he gasped and coughed.
+He tore the straps and harness from his arms, body and legs, tossed him
+up in the air, shook him and set him down on the rock.
+
+"I've got him!" he said at last. "Oh, Shanty Moir, what a surprise you
+have coming to your own black self!"
+
+MacGregor, with his senses cleared enough to realise that he was alive,
+and to remember how the miracle had come about, said quietly--
+
+"Man, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a man do."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Diving into that hole after me."
+
+"Oh, to ---- with that! That's past. The past doesn't count--not when the
+very immediate future is so full of juice and interest as happens to be
+the case just now. I've got Shanty Moir, old-timer. Do you understand?
+He's mine and all that he's got is mine, and he's going to be surprised.
+Oh, how surprised he's going to be!"
+
+MacGregor looked down at the two yards of rushing water, up at the rock
+walls and then at the jubilant Reivers.
+
+"I dinna see it," he said dryly.
+
+"Really?" Reivers suddenly became interested in him as if he presented a
+rare mental problem. "Can't you make that simple mind of yours work out
+the simple solution of this problem?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+"What I see is this: we're alive, and that only for the present. We're
+in a little hole in the Dead Lands. Happen we climb out of the hole, we
+have no dogs, food, or weapons. The nearest camp is two good days'
+mushing, with good fresh dogs. Too far. If I could manage to stagger
+five miles I'd surprise myself. There is not so much as a dry match on
+us. No, I maun say, lad, my simple mind does not see the solution of the
+problem."
+
+"Try again, Mac," urged Reivers. "Make your mind work. What do we need
+to make our condition blessed among men; what do men need to be
+well-fitted on the Winter trail? You can make your mind do that sum,
+can't you?"
+
+"We need," replied MacGregor doggedly, "dogs, and food, and fire, and
+weapons."
+
+"Correct. And now what's the next thought that your grey matter produces
+after that masterpiece?"
+
+"That the nearest place where we may obtain these things is too far away
+for us to make, unless happen we meet some one on the trail, which is
+not likely."
+
+"Pessimism!" laughed Reivers. "Too much caution stunts the possibility
+of the mind. Interesting demonstration of the fact, with your mind as an
+example." He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone wall
+from under which they had just emerged. "What's the other side of those
+rocks, Mac?"
+
+"Shanty Moir and his six-shooter."
+
+"And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges, and gold, everything,
+everything to make us kings of the country, Mac! And they're ours--ours
+as surely as if we had 'em in our hands now."
+
+"I dinna see it," said MacGregor.
+
+"Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang get out of their camp?"
+
+"Up-stream, by the creek, of course."
+
+"Any other way?"
+
+"There's the way we came--but they do not know that."
+
+"Correct, and when we've plugged up that single exit they can't get away
+from us, Mac, and then we've got 'em!"
+
+MacGregor's eyes lighted up, then he grew dour again.
+
+"We have got 'em, if we plug up the river, I see," he admitted, "but
+when we have got them, what good does it do us? What are you going to
+do, then?"
+
+"That's the surprise, Mac; I won't tell even you." He looked swiftly for
+a way up the rock walls and found one. "The first question is: Do you
+think you can climb after me up that crevice there?"
+
+"I could climb through hell and back again if it would help in getting
+Shanty Moir."
+
+"All right. I can't quite give you hell, but I'll give Shanty Moir an
+imitation of it before he's much older. Come on. We've got some work to
+do before it gets dark."
+
+He led the way into the crevice he had marked for the climb up from the
+hole and boosted MacGregor up before him. It was slow, hard work, but
+MacGregor's weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping down upon
+Reivers' shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently pulled him down, took
+him on his back and crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his
+burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods away smoke was
+rising through the opening above Moir's camp, and at the sight of it
+MacGregor's numbed faculties came to life.
+
+"Lemme go, man!" he pleaded as Reivers caught him as he staggered toward
+the opening. "It's my chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from
+up here."
+
+"Save your strength; I've got use for it," said Reivers. "Can you walk?
+All right. Come on, then, and don't try to get near that gap."
+
+Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way carefully around the big
+opening till they came to the opposite side of the mass of rocks, where
+the creek entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. Crawling
+and slipping, they made their way down until they stood beside the bed
+of the stream.
+
+"Now to work, Mac," said Reivers, and seizing a rock bore it to the
+tunnel's mouth and dropped it into the water.
+
+"Aye, aye!" chuckled MacGregor, as he understood the significance of
+this move. "We'll wall the curs in."
+
+For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried and rolled the heaviest
+rocks he could move into position across the tunnel, and MacGregor
+staggered beneath smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their work
+was finished there was a rock wall across the mouth of the tunnel which
+it would have been almost impossible to tear down, especially from the
+inside.
+
+It was growing dark when the task was completed, and Reivers nodded in
+great satisfaction.
+
+"That'll hold 'em long enough for my purpose, and we just made it in
+time," he said. "Now come on up the mountain again, and then for the
+surprise."
+
+"The surprise, man?" panted MacGregor as he toiled up the rocks. "What
+are you going to do? Tell me what's in your head?"
+
+"Hush, hush!" laughed Reivers, pulling him up to the top. "Your position
+is that of the onlooker. It would spoil it for you if you knew what was
+going to happen."
+
+"An onlooker--me--when it's a case of getting Shanty Moir? Don't say that,
+lad. Don't leave me out. He's mine. You know that by all the rights of
+men and gods it's my right to get him. Give me my just share of
+revenge."
+
+"Shut up!"
+
+They were nearing the brink of the opening. Reivers' hand covered
+MacGregor's mouth as they leaned over and looked down upon the
+unsuspecting men in the cavern below.
+
+In the shut-in spot night had fallen. On the sand before the dugout
+Tillie was cooking over a brisk fire, going about her work as calmly as
+if nothing of moment had happened during the afternoon. Near by, Moir
+and Joey were packing the dog-sledge and repairing harness, evidently
+preparing to take the trail after the evening meal. Tammy sat by the
+fire, holding together with both hands the pieces of his nose which
+Reivers' blow had smashed flat on his face.
+
+Reivers scarcely looked at the men, but began to scan the walls for a
+way to get down. The walls slanted inwardly from the top, and at first
+it seemed impossible that a man could get safely into the cavern without
+the aid of a rope. But presently Reivers saw that for thirty feet
+directly above the large dugout the rocks were ragged enough to afford
+plenty of holds for hands and feet.
+
+The walls were nearly fifty feet high. If he could reach to the bottom
+of this rough space he would be hanging with his feet, ten or twelve
+feet above the cavern floor.
+
+"Good enough," he said aloud. "It's a cinch."
+
+"A cinch it is," breathed MacGregor softly. "We'll roll up a pile of
+rocks and kill 'em like rats in a pit. But you maun leave Shanty to me,
+lad, I----"
+
+"Shut up!" Reivers thrust the Scotchman back from the brink. "Do you
+want me to go after the harness for you? I told you that your job was to
+be the onlooker. I settle this thing with Shanty Moir myself."
+
+"But man----"
+
+"Moir kicked me. Do you understand? He placed his dirty foot on me. Do
+you see why I'm going to do it by myself?"
+
+"Placed his foot on you? God's blood! What has he done to me--robbed me,
+made an animal of me, stabbed me with a prod! Who has the better right
+to his foul life?"
+
+"It isn't a case of right, but of might, Mac," chuckled Reivers. "I've
+got the better might. Therefore, will you give me your word that you'll
+refrain from interfering with my actions until I've paid my debt to Mr.
+Moir, or must I go back after the harness and strap you up?"
+
+"Cruel----"
+
+"Promise!"
+
+"I promise," said MacGregor. "But it's wrong, sore wrong. I protest."
+
+"All right. Protest all you want to, but do it silently. Not another
+word or sound out of you now until the job's done."
+
+Together they crawled back to the brink above the large dugout and
+peered down into the darkening cavern. In a flash Reivers had his
+mackinaw and boots off. The cooking-fire was deserted. No one was in
+sight. Moir and his men and Tillie were at supper in the dugout, and
+Reivers's chance had come. He swung himself silently over the brink and
+hung by a handhold on the rock.
+
+"Don't interfere, Mac," he said warningly. "Not till I've paid Shanty
+Moir for the touch of his foot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI--A FIGHT THAT WAS A FIGHT
+
+
+With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged feet forward and caught
+toe-holds on the rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right
+hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid piece of protruding
+rock. Having tested it thoroughly he let go his holds with both feet and
+left hand and dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. Above
+him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the brink of the opening, gasped
+twice, once because he was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the
+bottom, and again when his right hand took the shock of his full weight
+without loosening its grip.
+
+Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he swung his feet inward
+again, secured another hold, lowered his right hand to another sure
+grip, and so made his startling way down the inwardly slanting cliff.
+
+At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, unable to stand the
+strain of watching. Had Reivers been able to see on top of the cliff he
+would have laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in the snow,
+earnestly praying.
+
+Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer down once more. Then he
+knew his prayers had been answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his
+hands, directly above the front of the large dugout, and his feet were
+less than ten feet above the bottom of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop
+of thanksgiving and gathered to him an armful of stones.
+
+For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and appraising the
+situation. He loosened his hold until his whole weight hung on the ends
+of his fingers.
+
+"Come out and fight, Shanty!" he bellowed suddenly. "Come out, you cheap
+cur, and fight like a man!"
+
+Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild animal on the instant of
+the weird challenge from above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in
+hand, tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and Reivers
+dropped and struck him neatly the instant he appeared.
+
+It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir's neck, Reivers would
+have killed him. He had no wish to kill him--yet. He landed on Moir's
+shoulders and the six-shooter went flying away as the two bodies crashed
+together and dropped on the sand with a thud.
+
+Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. Tammy and Joey were only
+a step behind Moir. Like wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like
+wildcats they rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then Moir
+was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, but he saw enough of
+the situation to satisfy him. Before him was something to fight, to
+rush, to annihilate. And he rushed.
+
+Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped joyously, a stone in each
+hand, as Reivers leaped forward to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir
+had expected a grapple, and Reivers' fist caught him full in the mouth
+and threw him back on his shoulders a man's length away.
+
+When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of
+crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers
+struck, and Moir's nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He
+struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.
+
+Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance
+and leaped forward to strike at Reivers' back. With his life depending
+upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir's great body around, and Joey and
+Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives
+into the back of their chief.
+
+Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his
+head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain
+into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers' feet. With a yell he
+hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom
+in the Snow-Burner's eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The
+heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a
+splash and was gone.
+
+But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from
+behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly
+as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face
+they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow
+from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir's face as from a soaked
+sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
+
+"That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!"
+
+The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and
+came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible
+combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.
+
+Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey
+or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a
+smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the
+struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile
+widening she moved around behind Moir's broad back. The knife flashed
+above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free
+and knocked the knife away.
+
+"Keep away!" he roared, springing out of the clinch. "This is between
+Iron Hair and me."
+
+Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled
+Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands
+nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had
+dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and
+snapped it up.
+
+"Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!" shrieked MacGregor and hurled
+another stone.
+
+His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir squarely on his big
+head and drove his face into the sand. He never moved after it.
+
+Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor on his knees was
+chanting his war-cry, his thanks that vengeance had not been denied him.
+Reivers smiled.
+
+"That's a good song, Mac, whatever it is!" he laughed, when the maddened
+Scotchman had grown quieter. "But the fact remains that you disobeyed my
+orders and interfered."
+
+"Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the black soul of Shanty
+Moir back to his brother the devil!" chanted MacGregor. "But, lad, I did
+not interfere until you'd paid him in full--until you'd paid double--for
+the kick he gave you. Three of them there were, and they were armed and
+you with bare fists! God's blood! Never since men stood up with fist to
+fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, and two men dead! Dead
+you are, you poor pups! And I can tell by the way you lived where you're
+roasting now.
+
+"Ah, ah! I ha' seen a man fight; I ha' seen what I shall never forget,
+and, poor stick that I am compared to him, I ha' e'en had a hand in it
+myself. Man, man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your belly's
+full of battle?"
+
+Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.
+
+"Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall as you can. I'll take
+the heavy stones from this side." He turned to Tillie. "Take the big
+belt from Iron Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the
+trail. We march to-night."
+
+And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron Hair, the beaten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII--THE SNOW-BURNER PAYS
+
+
+"And now the Snow-Burner has his gold. He has robbed the great Iron Hair
+in his own camp. Great is the Snow-Burner! Now he has the gold which he
+longed for. Now he is rich. The white men will bow down to him. Great is
+the Snow-Burner!"
+
+Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he stood on the edge
+of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly crooned the saga of his success. The
+gold belt of Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great
+weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it contained. The
+dogs were held in leash, eager to be quit of the harsh rock-chasms
+through which they had just travelled, and to strike their lope on a
+trail over the open country beyond.
+
+MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge. The exertions and
+excitement of the afternoon had exhausted him in his weakened condition.
+He sat slumped together, only half conscious of what was going on. In a
+moment he would be sound asleep.
+
+And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He had the gold, and he had
+a supply of food and a strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail.
+All that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the south. Two,
+three, four days' travelling and he would strike the railroad. And the
+railroad ran to tide-water, and on the water steamboats would carry him
+away to the world he had planned to return to.
+
+It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie's scheme for getting
+rid of Moir. But he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it. He wanted
+to do just one thing now, above all others, and that was what he set out
+to do.
+
+He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around MacGregor's middle.
+MacGregor was sound asleep now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound
+him carefully in place. Tillie's chant died down in astonishment.
+
+"We take the old one with us?" she asked.
+
+"We do," said Reivers. "Hi-yah! Together there! Mush, mush up!"
+
+To Tillie's joy he turned the dogs to the northwest, in the direction of
+the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner was lost to her; she knew that,
+when he had refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something to
+have him come back to the camp.
+
+Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought his team up the
+river-bed to Tillie's camp in the morning. MacGregor was out of his head
+by then, and for the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat in
+the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him soft food which the old
+squaws had prepared. In the evening he again tied the old man and the
+belt of gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie had read her
+doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she came out to the sledge prepared
+to follow.
+
+"You do not come any farther," said Reivers as he picked up the
+dog-whip.
+
+Tillie nodded.
+
+"I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a great man among the white
+women. Will the Snow-Burner come back--some time?"
+
+"I will never come back."
+
+"Ah-hh-hh!" Tillie's breath came fiercely. "So there is one white woman,
+then. If I had known----"
+
+But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and hurrying out of
+hearing.
+
+MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food, but still weak, lifted
+his head and looked around as the sledge sped over the frozen snow.
+
+"A new trail to me, lad," he said. "Where to, now?"
+
+"On a fool's trail," laughed Reivers bitterly, and drove on.
+
+Next morning MacGregor recognised the land ahead.
+
+"Straight for Dumont's Camp we're heading, lad," he said. "Is it there
+we go?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They came to Dumont's Camp as night fell. Reivers halted and made sundry
+enquiries.
+
+"In a shack half ways between here and Fifty Mile," was the substance of
+the replies.
+
+"Hi-yah! Mush, mush up!" and they were on the trail again.
+
+At daylight the next day, from a rise in the land, he saw the shack that
+had been designated. Smoke was rising from the chimney, and a small
+figure that he knew even at that distance came out, filled a pail with
+snow and went in again.
+
+Reivers stopped his dogs some distance from the shack. He threw
+MacGregor, gold belt and all, over his shoulder and went up to the door
+and knocked. For a second or two he smiled triumphantly as Hattie
+MacGregor opened the door and stood speechless at what she saw. Then he
+bowed low, laid his burden on the floor and went out without a word.
+
+The dogs shuddered as they heard him laugh coming back to them.
+
+"Hi-yah, mush!"
+
+He drove them furiously into a gully that shut out the sight of the
+shack and sat down on the sledge. The dogs whined. It was the time for
+the morning meal and the master was making no preparations to eat.
+
+"Still, you curs!" The whip fell mercilessly among them and they
+crouched in terror.
+
+The time went by. The sun began to climb upward in the sky. Still the
+man sat on the sledge, making no preparations for the morning meal. The
+memory of the whip-cuts died in the dogs' minds under the growing
+clamour of hunger. They began to whine again.
+
+"Still!" The master was on his feet, but the whip had fallen from his
+hand.
+
+Down at the end of the gully a small figure was coming over the snow.
+She was running, and her red hair flowed back over her shoulders, and
+she laughed aloud as she came up to him. The pain was gone from Hattie
+MacGregor's lips, and her whole face beamed with a complete, unreasoning
+happiness, but the pride of her breed shone in her eyes even unto the
+end.
+
+"Well, well!" sneered Reivers. "Aren't you afraid to come so near
+anything that pollutes the air?"
+
+She laughed again. She did not speak. She only looked at him and smiled,
+and by the Eve-wisdom in the smile he knew that his secret was hers. He
+felt himself weakening, but the Snow-Burner died hard. He tried to laugh
+his old, cold laugh, but the ice had been thawed in it.
+
+"What do you want?" he sneered. "I'm not a good enough man for you. Why
+did you come out here?"
+
+"Because I knew you would not go away again," she said, "and because now
+I know you are a good enough man for me."
+
+"You red-haired trull!" He raised his hand to strike her.
+
+She did not flinch; she merely smiled up at him confidently,
+contentedly. Suddenly she caught his clenched fist in her hands and
+kissed it. With a curse Reivers swung around on his dogs.
+
+"Hi-yah! Mush, mush out of here!"
+
+Out of the gully into the open he kicked and drove them. He did not look
+back. He knew that she was following.
+
+She followed patiently. She knew that there was nothing else for her to
+do. She had known it the first day she had looked into his eyes. He was
+her man, and she must follow him.
+
+So she trudged on behind her man as he forced the tired dogs to move.
+She smiled as she walked, and the wisdom of Eve was in her smile. She
+had reason to smile, for the Snow-Burner was driving straight toward the
+little shack.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
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+    <meta content="The Snow-Burner" name="DC.Title"/>
+    <meta content="Henry Oyen" name="DC.Creator"/>
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+    <meta content="1916" name="DC.Created"/>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Snow-Burner
+
+Author: Henry Oyen
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2011 [EBook #36121]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='i001' id='i001'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE GROUND' width='60%' title=''/><br />
+<span class='caption'>THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE GROUND</span>
+</div>
+<div class='title'>
+<p class='fs16 mt20'>THE<br/>SNOW-BURNER</p>
+
+<p class='mt20'>BY<br/>
+<span class='fs12'>HENRY OYEN</span></p>
+
+<p class='mt20'>AUTHOR OF<br/>
+THE MAN-TRAIL</p>
+
+<div style='margin: 20px auto; text-align: center;'>
+<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg'/>
+</div>
+
+<p>NEW YORK<br/>
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP<br/>
+PUBLISHERS</p>
+
+<p class='mt40'>Copyright, 1916,<br/>
+By George H. Doran Company</p>
+
+<p class='sm'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p>
+
+<p class='sm'>COPYRIGHT 1914, 1915, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY</p>
+</div>
+<p class='center fs14 mt40 mb20'>CONTENTS</p>
+
+<p class='center fs12 mb20'>PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN</p>
+
+<table summary='' style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; table-layout:fixed; width:500px;'>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>I.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Help!”</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chI'>9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>II.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Girl</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chII'>16</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>III.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Toppy Gets A Job</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chIII'>21</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>IV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Hell-Camp” Reivers</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chIV'>31</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>V.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Toppy Overhears a Conversation</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chV'>39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>VI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Nice Boy!”</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chVI'>44</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>VII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner’s Creed</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chVII'>51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>VIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Toppy Works</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chVIII'>62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>IX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>A Fresh Start</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chIX'>67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>X.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Duel Begins</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chX'>74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Hell-Camp” Court</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXI'>77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Toppy’s First Move</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXII'>94</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Reivers Replies</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIII'>100</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XIV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Joker and Deuces Wild”</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIV'>106</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Way of the Snow-Burner</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXV'>115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XVI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Screws Tighten</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVI'>131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XVII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Tilly’s Warning</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVII'>139</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XVIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>“Canny by Nature”</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVIII'>145</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XIX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Fight</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIX'>150</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Toppy’s Way</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXX'>162</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The End of the Boss</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXI'>165</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='center fs12 mt20 mb20'>PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN</p>
+
+<table summary='' style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; table-layout:fixed; width:500px;'>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Cheating of the River</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXII'>175</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Girl Who Was Not Afraid</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIII'>183</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXIV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Woman’s Way</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIV'>193</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Gold!</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXV'>202</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXVI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Look in a Woman’s Eyes</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVI'>212</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXVII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>On the Trail of Fortune</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVII'>219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXVIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Hunts</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVIII'>229</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXIX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The White Man’s Will</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIX'>233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Any Means to an End</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXX'>238</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Squaw-Man</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXI'>241</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Scorn of a Pure Woman</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXII'>245</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Shanty Moir</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIII'>251</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXIV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Bargain</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIV'>256</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Test of the Bottle</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXV'>261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXVI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Begins To Weaken</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVI'>265</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXVII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Into the Jaws of the Bear</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVII'>270</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXVIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>MacGregor Roy</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVIII'>277</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XXXIX.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>James MacGregor’s Story</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIX'>283</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XL.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The White Man’s Sentiment</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXL'>293</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>Shanty-Moir-Temperance Advocate</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLI'>301</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Works for Two</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLII'>305</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLIII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>"The Penalty of a White Man’s Mind"</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLIII'>309</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLIV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Madness of “Hell-Camp” Reivers</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLIV'>316</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLV.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>A Surprise for Shanty Moir</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLV'>320</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLVI.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>A Fight that was a Fight</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLVI'>327</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='c1'>XLVII.</td>
+  <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Pays</td>
+  <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLVII'>332</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span><a name='title' id='title'></a>THE SNOW BURNER</h1>
+<p class='center fs12'>PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN</p>
+<h2><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—HELP</h2>
+<p>
+The brisk November sunrise, breaking over the
+dark jack-pines, lighted up the dozen snow-covered
+frame buildings comprising the so-called town
+of Rail Head, and presently reached in through the
+uncurtained windows of the Northern Light saloon,
+where it shone upon the curly head of young Toppy
+Treplin as, pillowed on his crossed forearms, it lay
+in repose on one of the saloon tables.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a sad, strange place to find Toppy Treplin,
+one-time All-American halfback, but for the last four
+years all-around moneyed loafer and waster. Rail
+Head was far from the beaten path. It lay at the
+end of sixty miles of narrow-gauge track that rambled
+westward into the Big Woods from the Iron
+Range Railroad line, and it consisted mainly of a
+box-car depot, an alleged hotel and six saloons—none
+of the latter being in any too good repute with
+the better element round about.
+</p>
+<p>
+The existence of the saloons might have explained
+Toppy’s presence in Rail Head had their character
+and wares been of a nature to attract one of his
+critical tastes; but in reality Toppy was there because
+the Iron Range Limited, bearing Harvey Duncombe’s
+private hunting-car, had stopped for a moment the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span>
+night before out where the narrow-gauge met the
+Iron Range Railroad tracks.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy, at that fated moment, was out on the observation
+platform alone. There had been a row and
+Toppy had rushed out in a black rage. Within, the
+car reeked with the mingled odours of cigarette-smoke
+and spilled champagne. Out of doors the first snowfall
+of the season, faintly tinted by a newly risen
+moon, lay unmarked, undefiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+A girl—small, young, brisk and business-like—alighted
+from the car ahead and walked swiftly across
+the station platform to the narrow-gauge train that
+stood waiting. The anger and champagne raging in
+him had moved Toppy to one of those wild pranks
+which had made his name among his fellows synonymous
+with irresponsibility.
+</p>
+<p>
+He would get away from it all, away from Harvey
+Duncombe and his champagne, and all that sort of
+thing. He would show them!
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy had stepped off. The Limited suddenly
+glided away. Toppy lurched over to the narrow
+gauge, and that was the last thing he had remembered
+of that memorable night.
+</p>
+<p>
+As the sun now revealed him, Mr. Robert Lovejoy
+Treplin, in spite of his deplorable condition, was a
+figure to win attention of a not entirely unfavourable
+sort. Still clad in mackinaw and hunting-clothes, his
+two hundred pounds of bone and muscle and just
+a little too much fat were sprawled picturesquely over
+the chair and table, the six-foot gracefulness of him
+being obvious despite his rough apparel and awkward
+position.
+</p>
+<p>
+His cap had fallen off and the sun glinted on a
+head of boyish brown curls. It was only in the lazy,
+good-natured face, puffy and loose-lipped, that one
+might read how recklessly Toppy Treplin had lived
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span>
+since achieving his football honours four years before.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sun crept up and found his eyes, and Toppy
+stirred. Slowly, even painfully, he raised his head
+from the table and looked around him. The crudeness
+of his surroundings made him sit up with a start.
+He looked first out of the window at the snow-covered
+“street.” Across the way he saw a small, unpainted
+building bearing a scraggly sign, “Hotel.” Beyond
+this the jack-pines loomed in a solid wall.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shuddered. He turned his face toward the
+man behind the bar, who had been regarding him
+for some time with a look of mingled surprise and
+amusement. Toppy shuddered again.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man was a half-breed, and he wore a red woollen
+shirt. Worse, there was not a sign of a mirror
+behind the bar. It was distressing.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good morning, brother,” said Toppy, concealing
+his repugnance. “Might I ask you for a little information
+this pleasant morning?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The half-breed grinned appreciatively but sceptically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Little drink, I guess you mean, don’t you?” said
+he. “Go ’head.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thank you, brother, thank you. I am sorely
+puzzled about two little matters—where am I anyway,
+and if so, how did I get here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The grin on the half-breed’s face broadened. He
+pointed at the table in front of Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You been sleeping there since ‘bout midnight las’
+night,” he exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy waved his left hand to indicate his displeasure
+at the inadequacy of the bartender’s reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Obvious, my dear Watson, obvious,” he said. “I
+know that I’m at this table, because here I am; and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span>
+I know I’ve been sleeping here because I just woke
+up. Let’s broaden the range of our information.
+What town is this, if it is a town, and if it is, how
+did I happen to come here, may I ask?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The half-breed’s grin disappeared, gradually to give
+place to an expression of amazement.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You mean to say you come to this town and don’t
+know what town it is?” he demanded. “Then why
+you come? What you do here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy’s brow corrugated in an expression of deep
+puzzlement.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s another thing that’s rather puzzling, too,
+brother,” he replied. “Why did I come? I’d like
+to know that, too. Like very, very much to know that.
+Where am I, how did I come here, and why? Three
+questions I’d like very, very much to have answered.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He sat for a moment in deep thought, then turned
+toward the bartender with the pleased look of a man
+who has found an inspiration.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I tell you what you do, brother—you answer the
+first two questions and in the light of that information
+I’ll see if I can’t ponder out the third.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The half-breed leaned heavily across the single-plank
+bar and watched Toppy closely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“This town is Rail Head,” he said slowly, as if
+speaking to some one of whose mental capacity he had
+great doubts. “You come here by last night’s train.
+You bring the train-crew over to have a drink; then
+you fall asleep. You been sleeping ever since. Now
+you remember?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The puzzled look went out of Toppy’s eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now I remember. Row with Harvey Duncombe.
+Wanted me to drink two to his one. Stepped outside.
+Saw little train. Saw little girl. Stepped off
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span>
+big train, got on little train, and here I am. Fine
+little business.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You went to sleep in the train coming up, the
+conductor told me,” volunteered the half-breed. “You
+told them you wanted to go as far as you could, so
+they took you up here to the end of the line. You
+remember now, eh, why you come here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Only too well, brother,” replied Toppy wearily.
+“I—I just came to see your beautiful little city.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The bartender laughed bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You come to a fine place. Didn’t you ever hear
+‘bout Rail Head?” he asked. “I guess not, or you
+wouldn’t have come. This town’s the jumping-off
+place, that’s what she is. It’s the most God-forsaken,
+hopeless excuse for a town in the whole North Country.
+There’s only two kind of business here—shipping
+men out to Hell Camp and skinning them when they
+come back. That’s all. What you think of that for
+a fine town you’ve landed in, eh?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Fine,” said Toppy. “I see you love it dearly, indeed.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The half-breed nodded grimly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It’s all right for me; I own this place. Anybody
+else is sucker to come here, though. You ain’t a
+Bohunk fool, so I don’t think you come to hire out
+for Hell Camp. You just got too drunk, eh?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I suppose so,” said Toppy, yawning. “What’s this
+Hell Camp thing? Pleasant little name.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“An’ pleasant little place,” supplemented the man
+mockingly. “Ain’t you never heard ‘bout Hell Camp?
+‘Bout its boss—Reivers—the ‘Snow-Burner’? Huh!
+Perhaps you want hire out there for job?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Perhaps,” agreed Toppy. “What is it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, it ain’t nothing so much. Just big log-camp
+run by man named Reivers—that’s all. Indians call
+him Snow-Burner. Twenty-five, thirty miles out in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span>
+the bush, at Cameron Dam. That’s all. Very big
+camp. Everybody who comes to this town is going
+out there to work, or else hiding out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see. But why the name?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hell Camp?” The bartender’s grin appeared again;
+then, as if a second thought on the matter had occurred
+to him, he assumed a noncommittal expression
+and yawned. “Oh, that’s just nickname the boys
+give it. You see, the boys from camp come to town
+here in the Spring. Then sometimes they raise ——.
+That’s why some people call it Hell Camp. That’s
+all. Cameron Dam Camp is the right name.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see.” Toppy was wondering why the man should
+take the trouble to lie to him. Of course he was
+lying. Even Toppy, with his bleared eyes, could see
+that the man had started to berate Hell Camp even as
+he had berated Rail Head and had suddenly switched
+and said nothing. It hurt Toppy’s head. It wasn’t
+fair to puzzle him this morning. “I see. Just—just
+a nickname.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s all,” said the bartender. Briskly changing
+the subject he said: “Well, how ’bout it, stranger?
+You going to have eye-opener this morning?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I suppose so,” said Toppy absently. He again
+turned his attention to the view from the window.
+On the low stairs of the hotel were seated half a
+dozen men whose flat, ox-like faces and foreign clothing
+marked them for immigrants, newly arrived, of
+the Slavic type. Some sat on wooden trunks oddly
+marked, others stood with bundles beneath their arms.
+They waited stolidly, blankly, with their eyes on the
+hotel door, as oxen wait for the coming of the man
+who is going to feed them. Toppy looked on with
+idle interest.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I didn’t think you could see anything like that this
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span>
+far away from Ellis Island,” he said. “What are
+those fellows, brother?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bohunks,” said the bartender with a contemptuous
+jerk of the head. “They waiting to hire out for
+the Cameron Dam Camp. The agent he comes to the
+hotel. Well, what you going to have?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bring me a whisky sour,” said Toppy, without
+taking his eyes off the group across the street. The
+half-breed grinned and placed before him a bottle of
+whisky and a glass. Toppy frowned.
+</p>
+<p>
+“A whisky sour, I said,” he protested.
+</p>
+<p>
+“When you get this far in the woods,” laughed the
+man, “they all come out of one bottle. Drink up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Once more Toppy shuddered. He was bored by
+this time.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your jokes up here are worse than your booze,” he
+said wearily.
+</p>
+<p>
+He poured out a scant drink and sat with the glass
+in his hand while his eyes were upon the group across
+the street. He was about to drink when a stir among
+the men drew his attention. The door of the hotel
+opened briskly. Toppy suddenly set down his glass.
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl who had got on the narrow-gauge out at
+the junction the night before had come out and was
+standing on the stairs, looking about her with an expression
+which to Toppy seemed plainly to spell,
+“Help!”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—THE GIRL</h2>
+<p>
+Toppy sat and stared across the street at her
+with a feeling much like awe. The girl was
+standing forth in the full morning sunlight, and
+Toppy’s first impulse was to cross the street to her, his
+second to hide his face. She was small and young,
+the girl, and beautiful. She was a blonde, such a
+blonde as is found only in the North. The sun lighted
+up the aureole of light hair surrounding her head,
+so that even Toppy behind the windows of the Northern
+Light caught a vision of its fineness. Her cheeks
+bore the red of perfect health showing through a perfect,
+fair complexion, and even the thick red mackinaw
+which she wore did not hide the trimness of the figure
+beneath.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What in the dickens is she doing here?” gasped
+Toppy. “She doesn’t belong in a place like this.”
+</p>
+<p>
+But if this were true the girl apparently was entirely
+unconscious of it. Among that group of ox-like
+Slavs she stood with her little chin in the air, as
+much at home, apparently, as if those men were all
+her good friends. Only she looked about her now
+and then as if anxiously seeking a way out of a
+dilemma.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What can she be doing here?” mused Toppy. “A
+little, pretty thing like her! She ought to be back
+home with mother and father and brother and sister,
+going to dancing-school, and all the rest of it.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was no stranger to pretty girls. He had met
+pretty girls by the score while at college. He had
+been adored by dozens. After college he had met
+still more. None of them had interested him to any
+inconvenient extent. After all, a man’s friends are
+all men.
+</p>
+<p>
+But this girl, Toppy admitted, struck him differently.
+He had never seen a girl that struck him like
+this before. He pushed his glass to one side. He
+was bored no longer. For the first time in four years
+the full shame of his mode of living was driven home
+to him, for as he feasted his eyes on the sun-kissed
+vision across the street his decent instincts whispered
+that a man who squandered and swilled his life away
+just because he had money had no right to raise his
+eyes to this girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re a waster, that’s what you are,” said Toppy
+to himself, “and she’s one of those sweet——”
+</p>
+<p>
+He was on his feet before the sentence was completed.
+In her perplexity the girl had turned to the
+men about her and apparently had asked a question.
+At first their utter unresponsiveness indicated that
+they did not understand.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then they began to smile, looking at one another
+and at the girl. The brutal manner in which they
+fixed their eyes upon her sent the blood into Toppy’s
+throat. White men didn’t look at a woman that way.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then one of the younger men spoke to the girl.
+Toppy saw her start and look at him with parted
+lips. The group gathered more closely around. The
+young man spoke again, grimacing and smirking
+bestially, and Toppy waited for no more. He was a
+waster and half drunk; but after all he was a white
+man, of the same breed as the girl on the stairs, and
+he knew his job.
+</p>
+<p>
+He came across the snow-covered street like Toppy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span>
+Treplin of old bent upon making a touchdown. Into
+the group he walked, head up, shouldering and elbowing
+carelessly. Toppy caught the young speaker by
+both shoulders and hurled him bodily back among his
+fellows. For an instant they faced Toppy, snarling,
+their hands cautiously sliding toward hidden knives.
+Then they grovelled, cringing instinctively before the
+better breed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy turned to the girl and removed his cap.
+She had not cried out nor moved, and now she looked
+Toppy squarely in the eye. Toppy promptly hung his
+head. He had been thinking of her as something
+of a child. Now he saw his mistake. She was young,
+it is true—little over twenty perhaps—but there was
+an air of self-reliance and seriousness about her as
+if she had known responsibilities beyond her years.
+And her eyes were blue, Toppy saw—the perfect blue
+that went with her fair complexion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I beg pardon,” stammered Toppy. “I just happened
+to see—it looked as if they were getting fresh—so
+I thought I’d come across and—and see if there was
+anything—anything I could do.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thank you,” said the girl a little breathlessly.
+“Are—are you the agent?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shook his head. The look of perplexity
+instantly returned to the girl’s face.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m sorry; I wish I was,” said Toppy. “If you’ll
+tell me who the agent is, and so on—” he included
+most of the town of Rail Head in a comprehensive
+glance—“I’ll probably be able to find him in a hurry.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, I couldn’t think of troubling you. Thank
+you ever so much, though,” she said hastily. “They
+told me in the hotel that he was outside here some
+place. I’ll find him myself, thank you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She stepped off the stairs into the snow of the
+street, every inch and line of her, from her solid tan
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span>
+boots to her sensible tassel cap, expressing the self-reliance
+and independence of the girl who is accustomed
+and able to take care of herself under trying
+circumstances.
+</p>
+<p>
+The bright sun smote her eyes and she blinked,
+squinting deliciously. She paused for a moment, threw
+back her head and filled her lungs to the full with
+great drafts of the invigorating November air. Her
+mackinaw rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and
+more colour came rushing into the roses of her cheeks.
+Apparently she had forgotten the existence of the
+Slavs, who still stood glowering at her and Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Isn’t it glorious?” she said, looking up at Toppy
+with her eyes puckered prettily from the sun. “Doesn’t
+it just make you glad you’re alive?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You bet it does!” said Toppy eagerly. He saw his
+opportunity to continue the conversation and hastened
+to take advantage. “I never knew air could be as
+exciting as this. I never felt anything like it. It’s
+my first experience up here in the woods; I’m an utter
+stranger around here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Having volunteered this information, he waited
+eagerly. The girl merely nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Of course. Anybody could see that,” she said
+simply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy felt slightly abashed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then you—you’re not a stranger around here?” he
+asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+She shook her head, the tassels of her cap and her
+aureole of light hair tossing gloriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m a stranger here in this town,” she said, “but
+I’ve lived up here in the woods, as you call it, all my
+life except the two years I was away at school. Not
+right in the woods, of course, but in small towns
+around. My father was a timber-estimator before
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>
+he was hurt, and naturally we had to live close to the
+woods.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Naturally,” agreed Toppy, though he knew nothing
+about it. He tried to imagine any of the girls
+he knew back East accepting a stranger as a man and
+a brother who could be trusted at first hand, and he
+failed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I say,” he said as she stepped away. “Just a
+moment, please. About this agent-thing. Won’t you
+please let me go and look for him?” He waved
+his hands at the six saloons. “You see, there aren’t
+many places here that a lady can go looking for a
+man in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She hesitated, frowning at the lowly groggeries that
+constituted the major part of Rail Head’s buildings.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s so,” she said with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Of course it is,” said Toppy eagerly. “And the
+chances are that your man is in one of them, no matter
+who he is, because that’s about the only place he
+can be here. You tell me who he is, or what he is,
+and I’ll go hunt him up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s very kind of you.” She hesitated for a
+moment, then accepted his offer without further
+parley. “It’s the employment agent of the Cameron
+Dam Company that I’m looking for. I am to meet him
+here, according to a letter they sent me, and he is to
+furnish a team and driver to take me out to the Dam.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Then she added calmly, “I’m going to keep books
+out there this Winter.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—TOPPY GETS A JOB</h2>
+<p>
+Toppy gasped. In the first place, he had not
+been thinking of her as a “working girl.” None
+of the girls that he knew belonged to that class. The
+notion that she, with the childish dimple in her chin
+and the roses in her cheeks, was a girl who made her
+own living was hard to assimilate; the idea that she
+was going out to a camp in the woods—out to Hell
+Camp—to work was absolutely impossible!
+</p>
+<p>
+“Keep books?” said Toppy, bewildered. “Do they
+keep books in a—in a logging-camp?”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was her turn to look surprised.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you know anything about Cameron Dam?”
+she asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nothing,” admitted Toppy. “It’s a logging-camp,
+though, isn’t it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Rather more than that, as I understand it,” she
+replied. “They are building a town out there, according
+to my letter. There are over two hundred people
+there now. At present they’re doing nothing but logging
+and building the dam; but they say they’ve found
+ore out there, and in the Spring the railroad is coming
+and the town will open up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And—and you’re going to keep books there this
+Winter?”
+</p>
+<p>
+She nodded. “They pay well. They’re paying me
+seventy-five dollars a month and my board.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you don’t know anything about the place?”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Except what they’ve written in the letter engaging
+me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And still you’re going out there—to work?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Seventy-five-dollar
+jobs aren’t to be picked up every day around
+here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see,” said Toppy. He remembered Harvey Duncombe’s
+champagne bill of the night before and grew
+thoughtful. He himself had shuddered a short while
+before, at waking in a bar where there was no mirror,
+and he had planned to wire Harvey for five hundred
+to take him back to civilisation. And here was this
+delicate little girl—as delicate to look upon as any of
+the petted and pampered girls he knew back East—cheerfully,
+even eagerly, setting her face toward the
+wilderness because therein lay a job paying the colossal
+sum of seventy-five dollars a month! And she was
+going alone!
+</p>
+<p>
+A reckless impulse swayed Toppy. He decided not
+to wire Harvey.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll go find this
+agent. You’d better wait inside the hotel.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He crossed the street and systematically began to
+search through the six saloons. In the third place he
+found his man shaking dice with an Indian. The agent
+was a lean, long-nosed individual who wore thick
+glasses and talked through his nose.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, I’m the Cameron Dam agent,” he drawled,
+curiously eying Toppy from head to toe. “Simmons is
+my name. What can I do for you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I want a job,” said Toppy. “A job out at Hell
+Camp.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The agent laughed shortly at the name.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re wise, are you?” he said. “And still you
+want a job out there? Well, I’m sorry. That load of
+Bohunks across the street fills me up. I can’t use
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span>
+any more rough labour just at present. I’m looking
+for a blacksmith’s helper, but I guess that ain’t you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s me,” said Toppy resolutely. “That’s the
+job I want—blacksmith’s helper. That’s my job.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The agent looked him over with the critical eye
+of a man skilfully appraising bone and muscle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re big enough, that’s sure,” he drawled.
+“You’ve got the shoulders and arms, too, but—let’s
+see your hands.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy held up his hands, huge in size, but entirely
+innocent of callouses or other signs of wear. The
+agent grinned.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Soft as a woman’s,” he said scornfully. “When
+did you ever do any blacksmithing? Long time ago,
+wasn’t it? Before you were born, I guess.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy’s right hand shot out and fell upon the
+agent’s thin arm. Slowly and steadily he squeezed
+until the man writhed and grimaced with pain.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wow! Leggo!” The agent peered over his thick
+glasses with something like admiration in his eyes.
+“Say, you’re there with the grip, all right, big fellow.
+Where’d you get it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Swinging a sledge,” lied Toppy solemnly. “And
+I’ve come here to get that job.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Simmons shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I can’t do it,” he protested. “If I should send you
+out and you shouldn’t make good, Reivers would be
+sore.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Who’s this man Reivers?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The agent’s eyes over his glasses expressed surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?” he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, I’m wise enough,” said Toppy impatiently. “I
+know what it is. But who’s this Reivers?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“He’s the boss,” said Simmons shortly. “D’you
+mean to say you never heard about Hell-Camp Reivers,
+the Snow-Burner?”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, I haven’t,” replied Toppy impatiently. “But
+that doesn’t make any difference. You send me out
+there; I’ll make good, don’t worry.” He paused and
+sized his man up. “Come over here, Simmons,” he
+said with a significant wink, leading the way toward
+the door. “I want that job; I want it badly.” Toppy
+dived into his pockets. Two bills came to light—two
+twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons’
+hand. “That’s how bad I want it. Now how about
+it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The fashion in which Simmons’ thin fingers closed
+upon the money told Toppy that he was not mistaken
+in the agent’s character.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ll be taking your own chances,” warned Simmons,
+carefully pocketing the money. “If you don’t
+make good—well, you’ll have to explain to Reivers,
+that’s all. You must have an awful good reason for
+wanting to go out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I have.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hiding from something, mebbe?” suggested Simmons.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Maybe,” said Toppy. “And, say—there’s a young
+lady over at the hotel who’s looking for you. Said
+you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get out to
+Cameron Dam.”
+</p>
+<p>
+An evil smile broke over the agent’s thin face as he
+moved toward the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The new bookkeeper, I suppose,” he said, winking
+at Toppy. “Aha! Now I understand why you——”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His
+fingers sank into the man’s withered biceps.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, you don’t understand,” he hissed grimly.
+“Get that? You don’t understand anything about it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right,” snapped the cowed man. “Leggo my
+arm. I was just joshing. You can take a joke, can’t
+you? Well, then, come along. As long as you’re
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>
+going out you might as well go at once. I’ve got to
+get a double team, anyhow, for the lady, and you’ve
+got to start now to make it before dark. Ready to
+start now?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“All ready,” said Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the door the agent paused.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Say, you haven’t said anything about wages yet,”
+he said quizzically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s so,” said Toppy, as if he had forgotten.
+“How much am I going to get?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sixty a month.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The agent couldn’t understand why the new man
+should laugh. It struck Toppy as funny that a little
+girl with a baby dimple in her chin should be earning
+more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey
+Duncombe and the rest of the bunch would have
+thought had they known.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy followed the agent to the stable behind the
+hotel, where Simmons routed out an old hunchbacked
+driver who soon brought forth a team of rangy bays
+drawing a light double-seated sleigh.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Company outfit,” explained Simmons. “Have to
+have a team; one horse can’t make it. You can ride
+in the front seat with the driver. The lady will ride
+behind.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As Toppy clambered in Simmons hurriedly whispered
+something in the ear of the driver, who was
+fastening a trace. The hunchback nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I got this job because I can keep my mouth shut,”
+he muttered. “Don’t you worry about anybody pumping
+me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He stepped in beside Toppy; and the bays, prancing
+in the snow, went around to the front of the hotel
+on the run. There was a wait of a few minutes; then
+Simmons came out, followed by the girl carrying her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span>
+suitcase. Toppy sprang out and took it from her
+hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You people are going to be together on a long
+drive, so I’d better introduce you,” said Simmons.
+“Miss Pearson, Mr. ——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Treplin,” said Toppy honestly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Treplin,” concluded Simmons. “New bookkeeper,
+new blacksmith’s helper. Get in the back seat, Miss
+Pearson. Cover yourself well up with those robes.
+Bundle in—that’s right. Put the suitcase under your
+feet. That’s right. All right, Jerry,” he drawled to
+the driver. “You’d better keep going pretty steady
+to make it before dark.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t nobody need to tell me my business,” said
+the surly hunchback, tightening the lines; and without
+any more ado they were off, the snow flying from
+the heels of the mettlesome bays.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the first few miles the horses, fresh from the
+stable and exhilarated to the dancing-point by the sun,
+air and snow, provided excitement which prevented
+any attempt at conversation. Then, when their dancing
+and shying had ceased and they had settled down
+to a steady, long-legged jog that placed mile after
+mile of the white road behind them with the regularity
+of a machine, Toppy turned his eyes toward the girl
+in the back seat.
+</p>
+<p>
+He quickly turned them to the front again. Miss
+Pearson, snuggled down to her chin in the thick sleigh-robes,
+her eyes squinting deliciously beneath the sharp
+sun, was studying him with a frankness that was disconcerting,
+and Toppy, probably for the first time in
+his life, felt himself gripped by a great shyness and
+confusion. There was wonderment in the girl’s eyes,
+and suspicion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“She’s wise,” thought Toppy sadly. “She knows
+I’ve been hitting it up, and she knows I made up my
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>
+mind to come out here after I talked with her. A
+fine opinion she must have of me! Well, I deserve
+it. But just the same I’ve got to see the thing through
+now. I can’t stand for her going out all alone to a
+place with a reputation like Hell Camp. I’m a dead
+one with her, all right; but I’ll stick around and see
+that she gets a square deal.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Consequently the drive, which Toppy had hoped
+would lead to more conversation and a closer acquaintance
+with the girl, resolved itself into a silent,
+monotonous affair which made him distinctly uncomfortable.
+He looked back at her again. This time also
+he caught her eyes full upon him, but this time after
+an instant’s scrutiny she looked away with a trace of
+hardness about her lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m in bad at the start with her, sure,” groaned
+Toppy inwardly. “She doesn’t want a thing to do
+with me, and quite right at that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+His tentative efforts at opening a conversation with
+the driver met instant and convincing failure.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I hear they’ve got quite a place out here,” began
+Toppy casually.
+</p>
+<p>
+“None of my business if they have,” grunted the
+driver.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re a sociable brute! Why don’t you bark
+and be done with it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The driver viciously pulled the team to a dead stop
+and turned upon Toppy with a look that could come
+only from a spirit of complete malevolence.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t try to talk to me, young feller,” he snapped,
+showing old yellow teeth. “My job is to haul you out
+there, and that’s all. I don’t talk. Don’t waste your
+time trying to make me. Giddap!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He cut viciously at the horses with his whip, pulled
+his head into the collar of his fur coat with the motion
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span>
+of a turtle retiring into its shell, and for the rest of
+the drive spoke only to the horses.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy, snubbed by the driver and feeling himself
+shunned, perhaps even despised, by Miss Pearson, now
+had plenty of time to think over the situation calmly.
+The crisp November air whipping his face as the
+sleigh sped steadily along drove from his brain the remaining
+fumes of Harvey Buncombe’s champagne.
+He saw the whole affair clearly now, and he promptly
+called himself a great fool.
+</p>
+<p>
+What business was it of his if a girl wanted to go
+out to work in a place like Hell Camp? Probably
+it was all right. Probably there was no necessity,
+no excuse for his having made a fool of himself by
+going with her. Why had he done it, anyhow?
+Getting interested in anything because of a girl was
+strange conduct for him. He couldn’t call to mind
+a single tangible reason for his actions. He had
+acted on the impulse, as he had done scores of times
+before; and, as he had also done scores of times before,
+he felt that he had made a fool of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried to catch the girl’s eyes once more, to read
+in them some sign of relenting, some excuse for opening
+a conversation. But as he turned his head Miss
+Pearson also turned and looked away with uncompromising
+severity. Toppy studied the purity of her
+profile, the innocence of the baby dimple in her chin,
+out of the corner of his eye. And as he turned and
+glanced at the evil face of the hunchback driver he
+settled himself with a sigh, and thought—
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that
+I’ve been a fool, I am glad that I’m here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+At noon the road plunged out of the scant jack-pine
+forest into the gloom of a hemlock swamp. Toppy
+shuddered as he contemplated what the fate of a man
+might be who should be unfortunate enough to get
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span>
+lost in that swamp. A mile in the swamp, on a slight
+knoll, they came to a tiny cabin guarding a gate across
+the road. An old, bearded woodsman came out of the
+cabin and opened the gate, and the hunchback pulled
+up and proceeded to feed his team.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dinner’s waiting inside,” called the gate-tender.
+“Come in and eat, miss—and you, too; I suppose
+you’re hungry?” he added to Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And hurry up, too,” growled the hunchback. “I
+give you twenty minutes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thank you very much,” said the girl, diving into
+her suitcase. “I’ve brought my own lunch.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She brought out some sandwiches and proceeded
+to nibble at them without moving from the sleigh.
+Toppy tumbled into the cabin in company with the
+hunchback driver. A rough meal was on the table
+and they fell to without a word. Toppy noticed that
+the old woodsman sat on a bench near the door where
+he could keep an eye on the road. Above the bench
+hung a pair of field-glasses, a repeating shotgun and a
+high-power Winchester rifle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Any hunting around here?” asked Toppy cheerily.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sometimes,” said the old watcher with a smile that
+made Toppy wonder.
+</p>
+<p>
+He did not pursue the subject, for there was something
+about the lonely cabin, the bearded old man,
+and the rifle on the wall that suggested something much
+more grim than sport.
+</p>
+<p>
+The driver soon bolted his meal and went back to
+the sleigh. Toppy followed, and twenty minutes
+after pulling up they were on the road again. With
+each mile that they passed now the swamp grew wilder
+and the gloom of the wilderness more oppressive. To
+right and left among the trees Toppy made out
+stretches of open water, great springs and little creeks
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span>
+which never froze and which made the swamp even
+in Winter a treacherous morass.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toward the end of the short afternoon the swamp
+suddenly gave way to a rough, untimbered ridge. Red
+rocks, which Toppy later learned contained iron ore,
+poked their way like jagged teeth through the snow.
+The sleigh mounted the ridge, the runners grating on
+bare rock and dirt, dipped down into a ravine between
+two ridges, swung off almost at right angles in a cleft
+in the hills—and before Toppy realised that the end
+of the drive had come, they were in full view of a
+large group of log buildings on the edge of a dense
+pine forest and were listening to the roar of the waters
+of Cameron Dam.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—“HELL-CAMP” REIVERS</h2>
+<p>
+In the face of things there was nothing about the
+place to suggest that it deserved the title of Hell
+Camp. The Cameron Dam Camp, as Toppy saw it
+now, consisted of seven neat log buildings. Of these
+the first six were located on the road which led into
+the camp, three on each side. These buildings were
+twice as large as the ordinary log buildings which
+Toppy had seen in the woods; but they were thoroughly
+dwarfed and overshadowed by the seventh,
+which lay beyond them, and into the enormous doorway
+of which the road seemed to disappear. This
+building was larger than the other six combined—was
+built of huge logs, apparently fifteen feet high; and
+its wall, which stretched across the road, seemed to
+have no windows or openings of any kind save a great
+double door.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy had no time for a careful scrutiny of the
+place, as the hunchback swiftly pulled up before the
+first building of the camp, a well-built double-log affair
+with large front windows and a small sign, “Office and
+Store.” Directly across the road from this building
+was one bearing the sign, “Blacksmith Shop,” and
+Toppy gazed with keen curiosity at a short man with
+white hair and broad shoulders who, with a blacksmith’s
+hammer in his hand, came to the door of
+the shop as they drove up. Probably this was the man
+for whom he was to work.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hey, Jerry,” greeted the blacksmith with a burr
+in his speech that labelled him unmistakably as a Scot.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hey, Scotty,” replied the hunchback.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Did ye bring me a helper?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” grunted Jerry.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good!” said the blacksmith, and returned to his
+anvil.
+</p>
+<p>
+The hunchback turned to the girl as soon as the
+team had come to a standstill.
+</p>
+<p>
+“This is where you go,” he said, indicating the
+office with a nod. “You,” he grunted to Toppy, “sit
+right where you are till we go see the boss.”
+</p>
+<p>
+An Indian squaw, nearly as broad as she was tall,
+came waddling out of the store as Miss Pearson
+stepped stiffly from the sleigh. Toppy wished for
+courage to get out and carry the girl’s suitcase, but
+he feared that his action would be misinterpreted;
+so he sat still, eagerly watching out of the corner
+of his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I carry um,” said the squaw as the girl dragged
+forth her baggage. “You go in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the sleigh drove abruptly ahead toward the
+great building at the end of the road, and Toppy’s
+final view of the scene was Miss Pearson stumping
+stiffly into the office-building with the squaw, the suitcase
+held in her arms, waddling behind. Miss Pearson
+did not look in his direction.
+</p>
+<p>
+And now Toppy had his first shock. For he saw
+that the building toward which they were hurrying was
+not a building at all, but merely a stockade-wall, which
+seemed to surround all of the camp except the six
+buildings which were outside. What he had thought a
+huge doorway was in reality a great gate.
+</p>
+<p>
+This gate swung open at their approach, and Toppy’s
+second shock came when he saw that the two hard-faced
+men who opened it carried in the crooks of their
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span>
+arms wicked-looking, short-barrelled repeating shotguns.
+One of the men caught the horses by the head
+as soon as they were through the gate, and brought
+them to a dead stop, while the other closed the gate
+behind them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Can’t you see the boss is busy?” snapped the man
+who had stopped the team. “You wait right here till
+he’s through.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy now saw that they had driven into a quadrangle,
+three sides of which were composed of long,
+low, log buildings with doors and windows cut at
+frequent intervals, the fourth side being formed by
+the stockade-wall through which they had just passed.
+The open space which thus lay between four walls of
+solid logs was perhaps fifty yards long by twenty-five
+yards wide. In his first swift sight of the place Toppy
+saw that, with the stockade-gate closed and two men
+with riot-guns on guard, the place was nothing more
+nor less than an effective prison. Then his attention
+was riveted spellbound by what was taking place in
+the yard.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the sunny side of the yard a group of probably
+a dozen men were huddled against the log wall. Two
+things struck Toppy as he looked at them—their similarity
+to the group of Slavs he had seen back in Rail
+Head, and the complete terror in their faces as they
+cringed tightly against the log wall. Perhaps ten feet
+in front of them, and facing them, stood a man alone.
+And Toppy, as he beheld the terror with which the
+dozen shrank back from the one, and as he looked at
+the man, knew that he was looking upon Hell-Camp
+Reivers, the man who was called The Snow-Burner.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy Treplin was not an impressionable young
+man. He had lived much and swiftly and among
+many kinds of men, and it took something remarkable
+in the man-line to surprise him. But the sight of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span>
+Reivers brought from him a start, and he sat staring,
+completely fascinated by the Manager’s presence.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not the size of Reivers that held him, for
+Toppy at first glance judged correctly that Reivers
+and himself might have come from the same mold so
+far as height and weight were concerned. Neither was
+it the terrible physical power which fairly reeked
+from the man; for though Reivers’ rough clothing
+seemed merely light draperies on the huge muscles
+that lay beneath, Toppy had played with strong men,
+professionals and amateurs, enough to be blasé in the
+face of a physical Colossus. It was the calm, ghastly
+brutality of the man, the complete brutality of an
+animal, dominated by a human intelligence, that held
+Toppy spellbound.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers, as he stood there alone, glowering at the
+poor wretches who cowered from him like pygmies,
+was like a tiger preparing to spring and carefully calculating
+where his claws and fangs might sink in with
+most damage to his victims. He stood with his feet
+close together, his thumbs hooked carelessly in his
+trousers pockets, his head thrust far forward. Toppy
+had a glimpse of a long, thin nose, thin lips parted
+in a sneer, heavily browed eyes, and, beneath the
+back-thrust cap, a mass of curly light hair—hair as
+light as the girl’s! Then Reivers spoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Rosky!” he said in a voice that was half snarl,
+half bellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a troubled movement among the dozen
+men huddled against the wall, but there came no
+answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Rosky! Step out!” commanded Reivers in a tone
+whose studied ferocity made Toppy shudder.
+</p>
+<p>
+In response, a tall, broad-shouldered Slav, the oldest
+and largest man in the group, stepped sullenly out
+and stood a yard in front of his fellows. He had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>
+taken off his cap and held it tightly in his clenched
+right hand, and the expression on his flat face as
+he stood with hanging head and scowled at Reivers
+was one half of fear and half of defiance.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You no can hit me,” he muttered doggedly. “I
+citizen; I got first papers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’s manner underwent a change.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hit you?” he repeated softly. “Who wants to
+hit you? I just want to talk with you. I hear you’re
+thinking of quitting. I hear you’ve planned to take
+these fellows with you when you go. How about it,
+Rosky?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I got papers,” said the man sullenly. “I citizen; I
+quit job when I want.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes?” said Reivers gently. It was like a tiger
+playing with a hedgehog, and Toppy sickened. “But
+you signed to stay here six months, didn’t you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The gentleness of the Manager had deceived the
+thick-witted Slav and he grew bold.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I drunk when I sign,” he said loudly. “All these
+fellow drunk when they sign. I quit. They quit. You
+no can keep us here if we no want stay.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I can’t?” Still Reivers saw fit to play with his
+victim.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No,” said the man. “And you no dare hit us again,
+no.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No?” purred Reivers softly. “No, certainly not; I
+wouldn’t hit you. You’re quite right, Rosky. I won’t
+hit you; no.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He was standing at least seven feet from his man,
+his feet close together, his thumbs still hooked in
+his trousers pockets. Suddenly, and so swiftly that
+Rosky did not have time to move, Reivers took a step
+forward and shot out his right foot. His boot seemed
+barely to touch the shin-bone of Rosky’s right leg, but
+Toppy heard the bone snap as the Slav, with a shriek
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span>
+of pain and terror, fell face downward, prone in the
+trampled snow at Reivers’ feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Reivers did not look at him. He was standing
+as before, as if nothing had happened, as if he had not
+moved. His eyes were upon the other men, who,
+appalled at their leader’s fate, huddled more closely
+against the log wall.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, how about it?” demanded Reivers icily after
+a long silence. “Any more of you fellows think you
+want to quit?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Half of the dozen cried out in terror:
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, no! We no quit. Please, boss; we no quit.”
+</p>
+<p>
+A smile of complete contempt curled Reivers’ thin
+upper lip.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You poor scum, of course you ain’t going to quit,”
+he sneered. “You’ll stay here and slave away until I’m
+through with you. And don’t you even dare think
+of quitting. Rosky thought he’d kept his plans mighty
+secret—thought I wouldn’t know what he was planning.
+You see what happened to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I know everything that’s going on in this camp.
+If you don’t believe it, try it out and see. Now pick
+this thing up—” he stirred the groaning Rosky contemptuously
+with his foot—“and carry him into his
+bunk. I’ll be around and set his leg when I get ready.
+Then get back to the rock-pile and make up for the
+time it’s taken to teach you this lesson.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The brutality of the thing had frozen Toppy motionless
+where he sat in the sleigh. At the same time
+he was conscious of a thrill of admiration for the
+dominant creature who had so contemptuously crippled
+a fellow man. A brute Reivers certainly was, and well
+he deserved the name of Hell-Camp Reivers; but a
+born captain he was, too, though his dominance was
+of a primordial sort.
+</p>
+<p>
+Turning instantly from his victim as from a piece of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span>
+business that is finished, Reivers looked around and
+came toward the sleigh. Some primitive instinct
+prompted Toppy to step out and stretch himself leisurely,
+his long arms above his head, his big chest
+inflated to the limit. At the sight of him a change
+came over Reivers’ face. The brutality and contempt
+went out of it like a flash. His eyes lighted up with
+pleasure at the sight of Toppy’s magnificent proportions,
+and he smiled a quick smile of comradeship, such
+as one smiles when he meets a fellow and equal, and
+held out his hand to Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“University man, I’ll wager,” he said, in the easy
+voice of a man of culture. “Glad to see you; more
+than glad! These beasts are palling on me. They’re
+so cursed physical—no mind, no spirit in them. Nothing
+but so many pounds of meat and bone. Old Campbell,
+my blacksmith, is the only other intelligent being
+in camp, and he’s Scotch and believes in predestination
+and original sin, so his conversation’s rather trying
+for a steady diet.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shook hands, amazed beyond expression. Except
+for his shaggy eyebrows—brows that somehow
+reminded Toppy of the head of a bear he had once
+shot—Reivers now was the sort of man one would
+expect to meet in the University Club rather than in
+a logging-camp. The brute had vanished, the gentleman
+had appeared; and Toppy was forced to smile
+in answer to Reivers’ genial smile of greeting. And
+yet, somewhere back in Reivers’ blue eyes Toppy saw
+lurking something which said, “I am your master—doubt
+it if you dare.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I hired out as blacksmith’s helper,” he explained.
+“My name’s Treplin.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He did not take his eyes from Reivers’. Somehow
+he had the sensation that Reivers’ will and his own
+had leaped to a grapple.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed aloud in friendly fashion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Blacksmith’s helper, eh?” he said. “That’s good;
+that’s awfully good! Well, old man, I don’t care what
+you hired out for, or what your right name is; you’re
+a developed human being and you’ll be somebody to
+talk to when these brutes grow too tiresome.” He
+turned to Jerry, the driver. “Well?” he said curtly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“She’s in the office now,” he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right.” Reivers turned and went briskly toward
+the gate. “Turn Mr. Treplin over to Campbell. You’ll
+live with Campbell, Treplin,” he called over his
+shoulder, as he went through the gate. “And you hit
+the back trail, Jerry, right away.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As Jerry swung the team around Toppy saw that
+Reivers was going toward the office with long, eager
+strides.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—TOPPY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION</h2>
+<p>
+Old Campbell, the blacksmith, had knocked off
+from the day’s work when, a few minutes later,
+Toppy stepped from the sleigh before the door of the
+shop.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go through the shop to that room in the back,”
+said Jerry. “You’ll find him in there.” And he drove
+off without another word.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy walked in and knocked at a door in a partition
+across the rear of the shop.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come in,” spluttered a moist, cheery voice, and
+Toppy entered. The old blacksmith, naked to the
+waist and soaped from shoulders to ears, looked up
+from the steaming tub in which he was carefully removing
+every trace of the day’s smut. He peered
+sharply at Toppy, and at the sight of the young man’s
+good-natured face he smiled warmly through the suds.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come in, come in. Shut the door,” he cried, plunging
+back into the hot water. “I tak’ it that you’re my
+new helper? Well—” he wiped the suds from his eyes
+and looked Toppy over—“though it’s plain ye never
+did a day’s blacksmithing in your life, I bid ye welcome,
+nevertheless. Ye look like an educated man.
+Well, ’twill be a pleasure and an honour for me to teach
+ye something more important than all ye’ve learned before—and
+that is, how to work.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see ye cam’ withoot baggage of any kind. Go
+ye now across to the store before it closes and draw
+yerself two blankets for yer bunk. By the time you’re
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span>
+back I’ll have our supper started and then we’ll proceed
+to get acqua’nted.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tell me!” exploded Toppy, who could hold in
+no longer. “What kind of a man or beast is this
+Reivers? Why, I just saw him deliberately break a
+man’s leg out there in the yard! What kind of a place
+is this, anyhow—a penal colony?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell turned away and picked up a towel before
+replying.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Reivers is a great man who worships after strange
+gods,” he said solemnly. “But you’ll have plenty of
+time to learn about that later. Go ye over to the store
+now without further waiting. Ye’ll find them closed
+if ye dally longer; and then ye’ll have a cold night,
+for there’s no blankets here for your bunk. Hustle,
+lad; we’ll talk about things after supper.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy obeyed cheerfully. It was growing dark
+now, and as he stepped out of the shop he saw the
+squaw lighting the lamps in the building across the
+street. Toppy crossed over and found the door open.
+Inside there was a small hallway with two doors, one
+labelled “Store,” the other “Office.” Toppy was about
+to enter the store, when he heard Miss Pearson’s voice
+in the office, and her first words, which came plainly
+through the partition, made him pause.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mr. Reivers,” she was saying in tones that she
+struggled to make firm, “you know that if I had
+known you were running this camp I would never have
+come here. You deceived me. You signed the name
+of Simmons to your letter. You knew that if you
+had signed your own name I would not be here. You
+tricked me.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you promised solemnly last Summer when I
+told you I never could care for you that you would
+never trouble me again. How could you do this?
+You’ve got the reputation among men of never breaking
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span>
+your word. Why couldn’t you—why couldn’t you
+keep your word with me—a woman?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy, playing the role of eavesdropper for the first
+time, scarcely breathed as he caught the full import of
+these words. Then Reivers began to speak, his deep
+voice rich with earnestness and feeling.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I will—I am keeping my word to you, Helen,” he
+said. “I said I would not trouble you again; and I
+will not. It’s true that I did not let you know that I
+was running this camp; and I did it because I wanted
+you to have this job, and I knew you wouldn’t come if
+you knew I was here. You wouldn’t let me give you,
+or even loan you, the three hundred dollars necessary
+for your father’s operation.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I know you, Helen, and I know that you haven’t
+had a happy day since you were told that your father
+would be a well man after an operation and you
+couldn’t find the money to pay for it. I knew you
+were going to work in hopes of earning it. I had
+this place to fill in the office here; I was authorised to
+pay as high as seventy-five dollars for a good bookkeeper.
+Naturally I thought of you.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I knew there was no other place where you could
+earn seventy-five dollars a month, and save it. I
+knew you wouldn’t come if I wrote you over my own
+name. So I signed Simmons’ name, and you came. I
+said I would not trouble you any more, and I keep
+my word. The situation is this: you will be in charge
+of this office—if you stay; I am in charge of the camp.
+You will have little or nothing to do with me; I will
+manage so that you will need to see me only when absolutely
+necessary. Your living-rooms are in the rear
+of the office. I live in the stockade. Tilly, the squaw,
+will cook and wash for you, and do the hard work in
+the store. In four months you will have the three
+hundred dollars that you want for your father.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I had much rather you would accept it from me as
+a loan on a simple business basis; but as you won’t,
+this is the next best thing. And you mustn’t feel
+that you are accepting any favour from me. On the
+contrary, you will, if you stay, be solving a big problem
+for me. I simply can not handle accounts. A
+strange bookkeeper could rob me and the company
+blind, and I’d never know it. I know you won’t
+do that; and I know that you’re efficient.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s the situation. I am keeping my word; I will
+not trouble you. If you decide to accept, go in and
+take off your hat and coat and tell Tilly to prepare
+supper for you. She will obey your orders blindly;
+I have told her to. If you decide that you don’t
+want to stay, say the word and I will have one of the
+work-teams hooked up and you can go back to Rail
+Head to-night.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But whichever you do, Helen, please remember
+that I have not broken—and never will break—my
+promise to you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Before Reivers had begun to speak Toppy had hated
+the man as a contemptible sneak guilty of lying to get
+the girl at his mercy. The end of the Manager’s speech
+left him bewildered. One couldn’t help wanting to
+believe every word that Reivers said, there were so
+much manliness and sincerity in his tone. On the
+other hand, Toppy had seen his face when he was
+handling the unfortunate Rosky, and the unashamed
+brute that had showed itself then did not fit with this
+remarkable speech. Then Toppy heard Reivers coming
+toward the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I will leave you; you can make up your mind
+alone,” he said. “I’ve got to attend to one of the men
+who has been hurt. If you decide to go back to Rail
+Head, tell Tilly, and she’ll hunt me up and I’ll send a
+team over right away.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+He stepped briskly out in the hallway and saw
+Toppy standing with his hand on the door of the store.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, hello, there!” he called out cheerily. “Campbell
+tell you to draw your blankets? That’s the first
+step in the process of becoming a—guest at Hell Camp.
+Get a pair of XX; they’re the warmest.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He passed swiftly out of the building.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I say, Treplin,” he called back from a distance,
+“did you ever set a broken leg?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Never,” said Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll give you ‘Davis on Fractures’ to read up on,”
+said Reivers with a laugh. “I think I’ll appoint you
+M.D. to this camp. ‘Doctor Treplin.’ How would
+that be?”
+</p>
+<p>
+His careless laughter came floating back as he made
+his way swiftly to the stockade.
+</p>
+<p>
+For a moment Toppy stood irresolute. Then he
+did something that required more courage from him
+than anything he had done before in his life. He
+stepped boldly across the hallway and entered the
+office, closing the door behind him.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—“NICE BOY!”</h2>
+<p>
+“Miss Pearson!” Toppy spoke as he crossed
+the threshold; then he stopped short.
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl was sitting in a big chair before a desk
+in the farther corner of the room. She was dressed
+just as she had been on the drive; she had not removed
+cap, coat or gloves since arriving. Her hands lay
+palms up in her lap, her square little shoulders sagged,
+and her face was pale and troubled. A tiny crease of
+worry had come between her wonderful blue eyes, and
+her gaze wandered uncertainly, as if seeking help in
+the face of a problem that had proved too hard for her
+to handle alone. At the sight of Toppy, instead of
+giving way to a look of relief, her troubled expression
+deepened. She started. She seemed even to shrink
+from him. The words froze in Toppy’s mouth and he
+stood stock-still.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t!” he groaned boyishly. “Please don’t look
+at me like that, Miss Pearson! I—I’m not that sort.
+I want to help you—if you need it. I heard what
+Reivers just said. I——What do you take me for,
+anyhow? A mucker who would force himself upon
+a lady?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The anguish in his tone and in his honest, good-natured
+countenance was too real to be mistaken. He
+had cried out from the depths of a clean heart which
+had been stirred strangely, and the woman in the girl
+responded with quick sympathy. She looked at him
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span>
+with a look that would have aroused the latent manhood
+in a cad—which Toppy was not—and Toppy, in
+his eagerness, found that he could look back.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why did you come out here?” she asked plaintively.
+“Why did you decide to follow me, after you had
+heard that I was coming here? I know you did that;
+you hadn’t intended coming here until you heard.
+What made you do it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Because you came here,” said Toppy honestly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But why—why——”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy had regained control of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why do you think I did it, Miss Pearson?” he
+asked quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I—I don’t want to think—what I think,” she stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And that is that I’m a cad, the sort of a mucker
+who forces his attentions upon women who are alone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well—” she looked up with a challenge in her eyes—“you
+had been drinking, hadn’t you? Could you
+blame me if I did?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not a bit,” said Toppy. “I’m the one whose to
+blame. I’m the goat. I don’t suppose I had a right
+to butt in. Of course I didn’t. I’m a big fool; always
+have been. I—I just couldn’t stand for seeing you
+start out for this Hell Camp alone; that’s all. It’s
+no reason, I know, but—there you are. I’d heard
+something of the place in the morning and I had a
+notion it was a pretty tough place. You—you didn’t
+look as if you were used to anything of the sort——Well,”
+he wound up desperately, “it didn’t look right,
+your going off alone among all these roughnecks; and—and
+that’s why I butted in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She made no reply, and Toppy continued:
+</p>
+<p>
+“I didn’t have any right to do it, I know. I deserve
+to be suspected——”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“No!” she laughed. “Please, Mr. Treplin! That
+was horrid of me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why was it?” he demanded abruptly. “Especially
+after you knew—after this morning. But—here’s the
+situation: I thought you might need a side-kicker
+to see you through, and I appointed myself to the job.
+You won’t believe that, I suppose, but that’s because
+you don’t know how foolish I can be.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped clumsily, abashed by the wondering
+scrutiny to which she was subjecting him. She arose
+slowly from the chair and came toward him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I believe you, Mr. Treplin,” she said. “I believe
+you’re a decent sort of boy. I want to thank you;
+but why—why should you think this necessary?”
+</p>
+<p>
+She looked at him, smiling a little, and Toppy, wincing
+from her “boy,” grew flustered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, you’re not sorry I came?” he stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+For reply she shook her head. Toppy took a long
+breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thanks!” he said with such genuine relief that she
+was forced to smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But I’m a perfect stranger to you,” she said uncertainly.
+“I can’t understand why you should feel
+prompted to sacrifice yourself so to help me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sacrifice!” cried Toppy. “Why, I’m the one——”
+He stopped. He didn’t know just what he had intended
+to say. Something that he had no business saying,
+probably. “Anybody would have done it—anybody
+who wasn’t a mucker, I mean. You can’t have any use
+for me, of course, knowing what kind of a dub I’ve
+been, but if you’ll just look on me as somebody you
+can trust and fall back on in case of need, and who’ll
+do anything you want or need, I—I’ll be more than
+paid.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I do trust you, Mr. Treplin,” she said, and held out
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>
+her hand. “But—do I look as if I needed a chaperon?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved
+fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I told you I’d heard what Reivers said,” he said
+hastily. “I didn’t mean to; I was just coming in to
+get some blankets. I don’t suppose you’re going to
+stay here now, are you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+She began to draw off her gloves.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” she said quietly. “Mr. Reivers is a gentleman
+and can be depended upon to keep his word.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy winced once more. She had called him a
+“decent boy”; she spoke of Reivers as a “gentleman.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But—good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred
+dollars——if that’s all——”
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something
+like a click.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend
+me that much money?” she asked. “Didn’t you hear
+that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And Mr.
+Reivers isn’t a complete stranger to me—as you are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to
+unbutton her mackinaw.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I don’t think you could mean anything wrong by
+it,” she continued. “But please don’t mention it again.
+You don’t wish to humiliate me, do you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Miss Pearson!” stammered Toppy, miserable.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t, please don’t,” she said. “It’s all right.”
+Her natural high spirits were returning. “Everything’s
+all right. Mr. Reivers never breaks his word, and
+he’s promised—you heard him, you say? And you’ve
+promised to be my—what did you call it?—‘side-kicker,’
+so everything’s fine. Except—” a look of disgust
+passed over her eyes—“your drinking. Oh,” she
+cried as she saw the shame flare into Toppy’s face,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span>
+“I didn’t mean to hurt you—but how can nice boys
+like you throw themselves away?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Nice boy! Toppy looked at his toes for a long time.
+So that was what she thought of him! Nice boy!
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you know much about Reivers?” he asked at
+last, as if he had forgotten her words. “Or don’t you
+want to tell me about him?” He had sensed that he
+was infinitely Reivers’ inferior in her estimation, and
+it hurt.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Certainly I do,” she said. “Mr. Reivers was a foreman
+for the company that my father was estimator
+for. When father was hurt last Summer Mr. Reivers
+came to see him on company business. It’s father’s
+spine; he couldn’t move; Reivers had to come to him.
+He saw me, and two hours after our meeting he—he
+asked me to marry him. He asked me again a
+week later, and once after that. Then I told him that
+I never could care for him and he went away and
+promised he’d never trouble me again. You heard
+our conversation. I hadn’t seen or heard of him
+since, until he walked into this room. That’s all I
+know about him, except that people say he never breaks
+his word.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy winced as he caught the note of confidence
+in her voice and thought of the sudden deadly treachery
+of Reivers in dealing with Rosky. The girl with
+a lithe movement threw off her mackinaw.
+</p>
+<p>
+“By Jove!” Toppy exploded in boyish admiration.
+“You’re the bravest little soul I ever saw in my life!
+Going against a game like this, just to help your
+father!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, why shouldn’t I?” she asked. “I’m the
+only one father has got. We’re all alone, father and
+I; and father is too proud to take help from any one
+else; and—and,” she concluded firmly, “so am I. As
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span>
+for being brave—have you anything against Mr.
+Reivers personally?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Thoroughly routed, Toppy turned to the door.
+“Good night, Miss Pearson,” he said politely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good night, Mr. Treplin. And thank you for—going
+out of your way.” But had she seen the flash in
+Toppy’s eye and the set of his jaw she might not
+have laughed so merrily as he flung out of the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the store on the other side of the hallway Toppy
+was surprised to find Tilly, the squaw, waiting patiently
+behind a low counter on which lay a pair of
+blankets bearing a tag “XX.” As he entered, the
+woman pushed the blankets toward him and pointed to
+a card lying on the counter.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Put um name here,” she said, indicating a dotted
+line on the card and offering Toppy a pencil tied on
+a string.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy saw that the card was a receipt for the blankets.
+As he signed, he looked closely at the squaw.
+He was surprised to see that she was a young woman,
+and that her features and expression distinguished
+her from the other squaws he had seen by the intelligence
+they indicated. Tilly was no mere clod in a
+red skin. Somewhere back of her inscrutable Indian
+eyes was a keen, strong mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How did you know what I wanted?” Toppy asked
+as he packed the blankets under his arm.
+</p>
+<p>
+The squaw made no sign that she had heard. Picking
+up the card, she looked carefully at his signature
+and turned to hang the card on a hook.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So you were listening when Reivers was talking
+to me, were you?” said Toppy. “Did you listen after
+he went out?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mebbe,” grunted Tilly. “Mebbe so; mebbe no.”
+And with this she turned and waddled back into the
+living-quarters in the rear of the store.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked after her dumbfounded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Huh!” he said to himself. “I’ll bet two to one
+that Reivers knows all about what we said before
+morning. I suppose that will mean something doing
+pretty quick. Well, the quicker the better.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE SNOW-BURNER’S CREED</h2>
+<p>
+When Toppy returned to the room in the rear
+of the blacksmith-shop he found Campbell
+waiting impatiently.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh, lad, but you’re the slow one!” greeted the
+gruff old Scot as Toppy entered. “You’re set a record
+in this camp; no man yet has been able to consume so
+much time getting a pair of blankets from the wannigan.
+Dump ’em in yon bunk in the corner and set
+the table. I’ll have supper in a wink and a half.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy obediently tossed his blankets into the bunk
+indicated and turned to help to the best of his ability.
+The place now was lighted generously by two large
+reflector-lamps hung on the walls, and Toppy had his
+first good view of the room that was to be his home.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was surprised at its neatness and comfort. It
+was a large room, though a little low under the roof,
+as rooms have a habit of being in the North. In the
+farthest corner were two bunks, the sleeping-quarters.
+Across the room from this, a corner was filled with
+well filled bookshelves, a table with a reading-lamp,
+and two easy chairs, giving the air of a tiny library.
+In the corner farthest from this was the cook-stove,
+and in the fourth corner stood an oilcloth-covered
+table with a shelf filled with dishes hung above it.
+Though the rough edges of hewn logs shown here and
+there through the plaster of the walls, the room was as
+spick and span as if under the charge of a finicky
+housewife. Old Campbell himself, bending over the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span>
+cook stove, was as astonishing in his own way as the
+room. He had removed all trace of the day’s smithing
+and fairly shone with cleanliness. His snow-white
+hair was carefully combed back from his wide forehead,
+his bushy chin-whiskers likewise showed signs
+of water and comb, and he was garbed from throat to
+ankles in a white cook’s apron. He was cheerfully
+humming a dirge-like tune, and so occupied was he
+with his cookery that he scarcely so much as glanced
+at Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now then, lad; are you ready?” he asked presently.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All ready, I guess,” said Toppy, giving a final
+look at the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ve forgot the bread,” said Campbell, also looking.
+“You’ll find it in yon tin box on the shelf. Lively,
+now.” And before Toppy had dished out a loaf from
+the bread-box the old man had a huge platter of steak
+and twin bowls of potatoes and turnips steaming on
+the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We will now say grace,” said Campbell, seating
+himself after removing the big apron, and Toppy sat
+silent and amazed as the old man bowed his head and
+in his deep voice solemnly uttered thanks for the meal
+before him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now then,” he said briskly, raising his head and
+reaching for a fork as he ended, “fall to.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The meal was eaten without any more conversation
+than was necessary. When it was over, the blacksmith
+pushed his chair leisurely back from the table
+and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, lad,” he rumbled, “what would ye say was
+the next thing to be done by oursel’s?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wash the dishes,” said Toppy promptly, taking his
+cue from the conspicuous cleanliness of the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said Campbell, nodding. “And as I cook the
+meal——”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m elected dish-washer,” laughed Toppy, springing
+up and taking a large dish-pan from the wall. He
+had often done his share of kitchen-work on hunting-trips,
+and soon he had the few dishes washed and dried
+and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well enough,” he said with an approving jerk of
+his head when the task was completed. “Your conscience
+should be easier now, lad; you’ve done something
+to pay for the meal you’ve eaten, which I’ll warrant
+is something you’ve not often done.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No,” laughed Toppy, “it just happens that I haven’t
+had to.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Haven’t had to!’” snorted Campbell in disgust.
+“Is that all the justification you have? Where’s your
+pride? Are you a helpless infant that you’re not
+ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth
+without doing anything for it? I suppose you’ve got
+money. And where came your money from? Your
+father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it came
+from, they’re the people who’ve been feeding you,
+but by the great smoked herring! If you stay wi’
+David Campbell you’ll have a change, lad. Aye,
+you’ll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat
+of your brow. And you’ll bless the day you come
+here—no matter what the reason that made you come,
+and which I do not want to hear.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ve got no come-back to that line of conversation,
+Mr. Campbell,” he said good-naturedly. “Whenever
+anybody accuses me of being a bum with money I
+throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can’t get
+an argument out of me with a corkscrew.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Campbell’s grim face cracked in a genial smile
+as he rose and led the way to the corner containing
+the bookshelves.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“We will now step into the library,” he chuckled.
+“Sit ye down.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He pushed one of the easy chairs toward Toppy, and
+from a cupboard under the reading-table drew a bottle
+of Scotch whisky of a celebrated brand. Toppy’s
+whole being suddenly cried out for a drink as his eyes
+fell on the familiar four stars.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Say when, lad,” said Campbell, pouring into a
+generous glass. “Well?” He looked at Toppy in surprise
+as the glass filled up. Something had smitten
+Toppy like a blow between the eyes——“How can
+nice boys like you throw themselves away?” And the
+pity of the girl as she had said it was large before
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thanks,” said Toppy, seating himself, “but I’m
+on the wagon.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The old smith looked up at him shrewdly from the
+corners of his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, aye!” he grunted. “I see. Well, by the puffs
+under your eyes ye have overdone it; and for fleeing
+the temptations of the world I know of no better
+place ye could go to than this. For it’s certain neither
+temptations nor luxuries will be found in Hell Camp
+while the Snow-Burner’s boss.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now you interest me,” said Toppy grimly. “The
+Snow-Burner—Hell-Camp Reivers—Mr. Reivers—the
+boss. What kind of a human being is he, if he is
+human?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell carefully mixed his whisky with hot
+water.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You saw him manhandle Rosky?” he asked, seating
+himself opposite Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes; but it wasn’t manhandling; it was brute-handling,
+beast-handling.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said the Scot, sipping his drink. “So think
+I, too. But do you know what Reivers calls it? An
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span>
+enlightened man showing a human clod the error of his
+ways. Oh, aye; the Indians were smart when they
+named him the Snow-Burner. He does things that
+aren’t natural.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But who is he, or what is he? He’s an educated
+man, obviously—’way above what a logging-boss
+ought to be. What do you know about him?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Little enough,” was the reply. “Four year ago I
+were smithing in Elk Lake Camp over east of here,
+when Reivers came walking into camp. That was
+the first any white men had seen of him around these
+woods, though afterward we learned he’d lived long
+enough with the Indians to earn the name of the Snow-Burner.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It were January, and two feet of snow on the level,
+and fifty below. Reivers came walking into camp,
+and the nearest human habitation were forty mile
+away. ‘Red Pat’ Haney were foreman—a man-killer
+with the devil’s own temper; and him Reivers deeliberately
+set himself to arouse. A week after his
+coming, this same Reivers had every man in camp
+looking up to him, except Red Pat.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And Reivers drove Pat half mad with that contemptuous
+smile of his, and Pat pulled a gun; and
+Reivers says, ‘That’s what I was waiting for,’ and
+broke Pat’s bones with his bare hands and laid him up.
+Then, says he, ‘This camp is going on just the same as
+if nothing had happened, and I’m going to be boss.’
+That was all there was to it; he’s been a boss ever
+since.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you don’t know where he came from? Or
+anything else about him?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, he’s from England—an Oxford man, for that
+matter,” said Campbell. “He admitted that much once
+when we were argufying. He’ll be here soon; he
+comes to quarrel with me every evening.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why does an Oxford man want to be ’way out here
+bossing a logging-camp?” grumbled Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, I asked that of him once,” he said. “‘Though
+it’s none of your business,’ says he, ‘I’ll tell you. I got
+tired of living where people snivel about laws concerning
+right and wrong,’ says he, ‘instead of acknowledging
+that there is only one law ruling life—that the
+strong can master the weak.’ That is Mr. Reivers’
+religion. He was only worshipping his strange gods
+when he broke Rosky’s leg, for he considers Rosky a
+weaker man than himself, and therefore ’tis his duty
+to break him to his own will.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A fine religion!” snapped Toppy. “And how
+about his dealings with you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The Scot smiled grimly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m the best smith he ever had,” he replied, “and
+I’ve warned him that I’d consider it a duty under my
+religion to shoot him through the head did he ever
+attempt to force his creed upon me.” He paused and
+held up a finger. “Hist, lad. That’s him coming
+noo. He’s come for his regular evening’s mouthfu’
+of conversation.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy found himself sitting up and gripping the
+arms of his chair as Reivers came swinging in. He
+eagerly searched the foreman’s countenance for a sign
+to indicate whether Tilly, the squaw, had communicated
+the conversation she had heard between Toppy
+and Miss Pearson, but if she had there was nothing to
+indicate it in Reivers’ expression or manner. His self-mastery
+awoke a sullen rage in Toppy. He felt himself
+to be a boy beside Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Reivers lightly,
+pulling a chair up to the reading-table. “It is a pleasure
+to find intelligent society after having spent the
+last hour handling the broken leg of a miserable brute
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>
+on two legs. Bah! The whisky, Scotty, please. I
+wonder what miracles of misbreeding have been necessary
+to turn out alleged human beings with bodies so
+hideous compared to what the human body should be.
+Treplin, if you or I stripped beside those Hunkies the
+only thing we’d have in common would be the number
+of our legs and arms.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He drew toward him a tumbler which Campbell had
+pushed over beside the bottle and, filling the glass
+three-quarters full, began to drink slowly at the powerful
+Scotch whisky as another man might sip at beer
+or light wine. Old Campbell rocked slowly to and
+fro in his chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘He that taketh up the sword shall perish by
+the sword,’” he quoted solemnly. “No man is a
+god to set himself up, lord over the souls and bodies
+of his fellows. They will put out your light for you
+one of these days, Mr. Reivers. Have care and treat
+them a little more like men.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers smiled a quick smile that showed a mouthful
+of teeth as clean and white as a hound’s.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Let’s have your opinion on the subject, Treplin,”
+he said. “New opinions are always interesting, and
+Scotty repeats the same thing over and over again.
+What do you think of it? Do you think I can maintain
+my rule over those hundred and fifty clods out
+there in the stockade as I am ruling them, through the
+law of strength over weakness? Do you think one
+superior mind can dominate a hundred and fifty inferior
+organisms? Or do you think, with Scotty here,
+that the dregs can drag me down?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shook his head. He was in no mood to debate
+abstract problems with Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Count me out until I’m a little acquainted with
+the situation,” he said. “I’m a stranger in a strange
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span>
+land. I’ve just dropped in—from almost another
+world you might say.”
+</p>
+<p>
+In a vain attempt to escape taking sides in what was
+evidently an old argument he hurriedly rattled off the
+story of his coming to Rail Head and thence to Hell
+Camp, omitting to mention, however, that it was Miss
+Pearson who was responsible for the latter part of his
+journey. Reivers smote his huge fist upon the table
+as Toppy finished.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s the kind of a man for me!” he laughed.
+“Got tired of living the life of his class, and just
+stepped out of it. No explanations; no acknowledgement
+of obligations to anybody. Master of his own
+soul. To —— with the niceties of civilisation! Treplin,
+you’re a man after my own scheme of life; I did
+the same thing once—only I was sober.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But let’s get back to our subject. Here’s the situation:
+This camp is on a natural town-site. There’s
+water-power, ore and timber. To use the water-power
+we must build a dam; to use the timber we must get it
+to the saws. That takes labour, lots of it—muscle-and-bone
+labour. Labour is scarce up here. It is too far
+from the pigsties of towns. Men would come, work a
+few days, and go away. The purpose of the place
+would be defeated—unless the men are kept here at
+work.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s what I do. I keep them here. To do it I
+keep them locked up at night like the cattle they are.
+By day I have them guarded by armed man-killers—every
+one of my guards is a fugitive from man’s silly
+laws, principally from the one which says, ‘Thou shalt
+not kill.’
+</p>
+<p>
+“But my best guard is Fear—by which I rule alike
+my guards and the poor brutes who are necessary to
+my purpose. There you are: a hundred and fifty of
+them, fearing and hating me, and I’m making them do
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span>
+as I please. No foolishness about laws, about order,
+about right or wrong. Just a hundred and fifty half-beasts
+and myself out here in the woods. As a man
+with a trained mind, do you think I can keep it up?
+Or do you think there is mental energy enough in
+that mess of human protoplasm to muster up nerve
+enough to put out my light, as Scotty puts it? It’s a
+problem that furnishes interesting mental gymnastics.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He propounded the problem with absolutely no trace
+of personal interest. To judge by his manner, the matter
+of his life or death meant nothing to him. It was
+merely an interesting question on which to expend the
+energy fulminating in his mind. In his light-blue eyes
+there seemed to gleam the same impersonal brutality
+which had shown out when he so casually crippled
+Rosky.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, it’s an impossible proposition, Reivers!” exploded
+Toppy, with the picture of the writhing Slav
+in his mind’s eye. “You’ve got to consider right and
+wrong when dealing with human beings. It isn’t
+natural; Nature won’t stand it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah!” Reivers’ eyes lighted up with intellectual delight.
+“That’s an idea! Scotty, you hear? You’ve
+been talking about my perishing by the sword, but
+you haven’t given any reason why. Treplin does.
+He says Nature will revolt, because my system is unnatural.”
+He threw back his head and laughed coldly.
+“Rot, Treplin—silly, effeminate, bookish rot!” he
+roared. “Nature has respect only for the strong. It
+creates the weaker species merely to give the stronger
+food to remain strong on.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Scotty had been rocking furiously. Now he
+stopped suddenly and broke out into a furious Biblical
+denunciation of Reivers’ system. When he stopped
+for breath after his first outbreak, Reivers with a
+few words and a cold smile egged him on. Toppy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span>
+gladly kept his mouth shut. After an hour he yawned
+and arose from his chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll turn in,” he said. “I’m
+too sleepy to listen or talk.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Without looking at him Reivers drew a book from
+his pocket and tossed it toward him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Davis on Fractures’,” he grunted. “Cram up on
+it to-morrow. There will be need of your help before
+long. Go on, Scotty; you were saying that a just
+retribution was Nature’s law. Go on.”
+</p>
+<p>
+And Toppy rolled into his bunk, to lie wide awake,
+listening to the argument, marvelling at the character
+of Reivers, and pondering over the strange situation
+he had fallen into. He scarcely thought of what
+Harvey Duncombe and the bunch would be thinking
+about his disappearance. His thoughts were mainly
+occupied with wondering why, of all the women he
+had seen, a slender little girl with golden hair should
+suddenly mean so much to him. Nothing of the sort
+ever had happened to him before. It was rather annoying.
+Could she ever have a good opinion of him?
+</p>
+<p>
+Probably not. And even if she could, what about
+Reivers? Toppy was firmly convinced that the speech
+which Reivers had made to Miss Pearson was a false
+one. Reivers might have a great reputation for always
+keeping his word, but Toppy, after what he had
+seen and heard, would no more trust to his morals than
+those of a hungry bear. If Tilly, the squaw, told
+Reivers what she had heard, what then? Well, in that
+case they would soon know whether Reivers meant
+to keep his promise not to bother Miss Pearson with
+his attentions. Toppy set his jaw grimly at the
+thought of what might happen then. The mere
+thought of Reivers seemed to make his fists clench
+hard.
+</p>
+<p>
+He lay awake for a long time with Reivers’ voice,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>
+coldly bantering Campbell, constantly in his ears.
+When Reivers finally went away he fell asleep. Before
+his closed eyes was the picture of the girl as, in the
+morning, she had kicked up the snow and looked up at
+him with her eyes deliciously puckered from the sun;
+and in his memory was the stinging recollection that
+she had called him a “nice boy.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—TOPPY WORKS</h2>
+<p>
+At daylight next morning began Toppy’s initiation
+as a blacksmith’s helper. For the next
+four days he literally earned his bread in the sweat
+of his brow, as Campbell had warned him he would.
+The dour old Scot took it as his religious duty to give
+his helper a severe introduction to the world of manual
+labour, and circumstances aided him in his aim.
+</p>
+<p>
+Two dozen huge wooden sleighs had come from
+the “wood-butcher”—the camp carpenter-shop—to be
+fitted with cross-rods, brace-irons and runners. Out
+in the woods the ice-roads, carefully sprinkled each
+night, were alternately freezing and thawing, gradually
+approaching the solid condition which would mean
+a sudden call for sleighs to haul the logs, which lay
+mountain-high at the rollways, down to the river.
+One cold night and day now, and the call would
+come, and David Campbell was not the man to be
+found wanting—even if handicapped by a helper with
+hands as soft as a woman’s.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy had no knowledge or skill in the trade, but
+he had strength and quickness, and the thoughts of
+Reivers’ masterfulness, and the “nice boy” in the
+mouth of the girl, spurred him to the limit. The
+heavy sledgework fell to his lot as a matter of course.
+A twenty-pound sledge was a plaything in Toppy’s
+hand—for the first fifteen minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+After that the hammer seemed to increase
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>
+progressively in weight, until at the end of the first day’s
+work Toppy would gladly have credited the statement
+that it weighed a ton. Likewise the heavy runner-irons,
+which he lifted with ease on the anvil in the
+morning, seemed to grow heavier as the day grew
+older. Had Toppy been in the splendid condition
+that had helped him to win his place on the All-American
+eleven four years before, he might have
+gone through the cruel period of breaking-in without
+faltering. But four years of reckless living had taken
+their toll. The same magnificent frame and muscles
+were there; the great heart and grit and sand likewise.
+But there was something else there, too; the
+softening, weakening traces of decomposed alcohol
+in organs and tissues, and under the strain of the
+terrific pace which old Campbell set for Toppy, abused
+organs, fibres and nerves began to creak and groan,
+and finally called out, “Halt!”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was only Toppy’s grit—the “great heart” that
+had made him a champion—and the desire to prove
+his strength before Reivers that kept him at work
+after the first day. His body had quit cold. He had
+never before undergone such expenditure of muscular
+energy, not even in the fiercest game of his career.
+That was play; this was torture. On the second morning
+his body shrank involuntarily from the spectacle
+of the torturing sledge, anvil and irons, but pride and
+grit drove him on with set jaw and hard eyes. Quit?
+Well, hardly. Reivers walked around the camp and
+smiled as he saw Toppy sweating, and Toppy swore
+and went on.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the third day old Campbell looked at him with
+curiosity.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, lad, have ye had enough?” he asked, smiling
+pityingly. “Ye can get a job helping the cookee
+if you find man’s work too hard for ye.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy, between clenched teeth, swore savagely. He
+was so tired that he was sick. The toxins of fatigue,
+aided and abetted by the effects of hard living, had
+poisoned him until his feet and brain felt as heavy
+as lead. It hurt him to move and it hurt him to
+think. He was groggy, all but knocked out; but something
+within him held him doggedly at the tasks which
+were surely mastering him.
+</p>
+<p>
+That night he dragged himself to bed without waiting
+for supper. In the morning Campbell was amazed
+to see him tottering toward his accustomed place in
+the shop; for old Campbell had set a pace that had
+racked his own iron, work-tried body, and he had
+allowed Toppy two days in which to cry enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hold up a little, lad,” he grumbled. “We’re away
+ahead of our job. There’s no need laying yourself
+up. Take you a rest.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You go to ——!” exploded the overwrought
+Toppy. “Take a rest yourself if you need one; I
+don’t.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He was working on his nerve now, flogging his
+weary arms and body to do his bidding against their
+painful protests; and he worked like a madman, fearing
+that if he came to a halt the run-down machinery
+would refuse to start afresh.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was near evening when a teamster drove up with
+a broken sleigh from which Campbell and the man
+strove in vain to tear the twisted runner. Reivers
+from the steps of the store looked on, sneering.
+Toppy, his lips drawn back with pain and weariness,
+laughed shrilly at the efforts of the pair.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yank it off!” he cried contemptuously. “Yank it
+off—like this.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He drove a pry-iron under the runner and heaved.
+It refused to budge. Toppy gathered himself under
+the pry and jerked with every ounce of energy in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>
+him. The runner did not move. His left ankle felt
+curiously weak under the awful strain. Across the
+way he heard Reivers laugh shortly. Furiously Toppy
+jerked again; the runner flew into the air. Toppy
+felt the weak ankle sag under him in unaccountable
+fashion, and he fell heavily on his side and lay
+still.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sprained his ankle,” grunted the teamster, as they
+bore him to his bunk. “I knew something had to give.
+No man ever was made to stand up under that lift.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But I yanked it off!” groaned Toppy, half wild
+with pain. “I didn’t quit—I yanked the darn thing
+off!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said old Campbell, “you yanked it off, lad.
+Lay still now till we have off your shoe.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And holy smoke!” said the teamster. “What a
+yank! Hey! Whoap! Holy, red-roaring—he’s gone
+and fainted!”
+</p>
+<p>
+This latter statement was not precisely true. Toppy
+had not fainted; he had suddenly succumbed to the
+demands of complete exhaustion. The overdriven,
+tired-out organs, wrenched and abused tissues, and
+fatigue-deadened nerves suddenly had cried, “Stop!”
+in a fashion that not all of Toppy’s will-power could
+deny. One instant he lay flat on his back on the
+blankets of his bunk, wide awake, with Campbell tugging
+at the laces of his shoes; the next—a mighty sigh
+of peace heaved his big chest. Toppy had fallen
+asleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not a natural sleep, nor a peaceful one. The
+racked muscles refused to be still; the raw nerve-centres
+refused to soothe themselves in the peace of
+complete senselessness. His whole body twitched.
+Toppy tossed and groaned. He awoke some time in
+the night with his stomach crying for food.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Drink um,” said a voice somewhere, and a sturdy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span>
+arm went under his head and a bowl containing something
+savoury and hot was held against his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hello, Tilly,” chuckled Toppy deliriously. It was
+quite in keeping with things that Tilly, the squaw,
+should be holding his head and feeding him in the
+middle of the night. He drank with the avidity of
+a man parched and starving, and the hot broth pleasantly
+soothed him as it ran down his throat.
+</p>
+<p>
+“More!” he said, and Tilly gave him more.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good fellow, Tilly,” he murmured. “Good medicine.
+Who told you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” grunted Tilly, laying his head on
+the pillow. “He send me. Sleep um now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sure,” sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into
+his moaning, feverish slumber.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—A FRESH START</h2>
+<p>
+When he awoke again to clear consciousness,
+it was morning. The sun which came in
+through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted
+up the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content
+to lie so. An inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort
+ruled in every inch of his being. The bored,
+heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had
+been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely
+gone. His tongue was cool; there was none of the
+old heavy blood-pressure in his head; his nerves were
+absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him.
+Toppy was quite conscious of the change, though he
+was too comfortable to do more than accept his peaceful
+condition as a fact.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ho, hum! I feel like a new man,” he murmured
+drowsily. “I wonder—ow!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became
+conscious that his left ankle was bandaged and
+sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the room—Campbell
+solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit
+of black, white collar, black tie, spick and span, with
+beard and hair carefully washed and combed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hello!” gasped Toppy sleepily. “Where you going—funeral?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis the Sabbath,” said Campbell reverently, as
+he came to the side of the bunk. “And how do ye
+feel the day, lad?”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Fine!” said Toppy. “Considering that I had my
+ankle sprained last evening.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The Scot eyed him closely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So ’twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was
+it?” he asked cannily.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why, sure,” said Toppy. “Yesterday was Saturday,
+wasn’t it? We were cleaning up the week’s
+work. Why, what are you looking at me like that
+for?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding
+the smile that strove to break through. “Yesterday
+was Saturday, but ’twas not the Saturday you
+sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was,
+lad, and ye’ve lain here in a fever, out of your head,
+ever since. Do you mind naught of the whole week?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long
+time.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Scotty, if you have to play jokes——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Jokes!” spluttered Campbell, aghast. “Losh, mon!
+Didna I tell ye ’twas the Sabbath? No, ’tis no joke,
+I assure you. You did more than sprain your ankle
+when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely.
+Lad, you were in poor condition when you
+came to camp, and had I known it I would not have
+broken you in so hard. But you’re a good man, lad;
+the best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition.
+And do you really feel good again?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why, I feel like a new man,” said Toppy. “I feel
+as if I’d had a course of baths at Hot Springs.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner said ye would. It’s Tilly he’s
+had doctoring ye. She’s been feeding you some Indian
+concoction and keeping ye heated till your blankets
+were wet through. Oh, you’ve had scandalous
+good care, lad; Reivers to set your ankle, Tilly to doctor
+ye Indian-wise, and Miss Pearson and Reivers to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span>
+drop in together now and anon to see how ye were
+standing the gaff. No wonder ye came through all
+right!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The room seemed suddenly to grow dark for Toppy.
+Reivers again—Reivers dropping in to look at him
+as he lay there helpless on his back. Reivers in the
+position of the master again; <i>and the girl with him</i>!
+Toppy impatiently threw off his covering.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Gimme my clothes, Scotty,” he demanded, swinging
+himself to the edge of the bunk. “I’m tired of
+lying here on my back.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell silently handed over his clothing. Toppy
+was weak, but he succeeded in dressing himself and in
+tottering over to a chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So Miss Pearson came over here, did she?” he
+asked thoughtfully. “And with Reivers?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said Scotty drily. “With Reivers. He has
+a way with the women, the Snow-Burner has.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy debated a moment; then he broke out and
+told Campbell all about how Reivers had deceived
+Miss Pearson into coming to Hell Camp. The old
+man listened with tightly pursed lips. As Toppy concluded
+he shook his head sorrowfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Poor lass, she’s got a hard path before her then,”
+he said. “If, as you say, she does not wish to care
+for Reivers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What do you mean?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” said Campbell slowly, “ye’ll be understanding
+by this time that the Snow-Burner is no ordinar’
+man?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“He’s a fiend—a savage with an Oxford education!”
+exploded Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He is—the Snow-Burner,” said Campbell with finality.
+“You know what he is toward men. Toward
+women—he’s worse!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good Heavens!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not that he is a woman-chaser. No; ’tis not his
+way. But—yon man has the strongest will in him
+I’ve ever seen in mortal man, and ’tis the will women
+bow to.” He pulled his whiskers nervously and looked
+away. “I’ve known him four year now, and no
+woman in that time that he has set his will upon but
+in the end has—has followed him like a slave.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy’s fists clenched, and he joyed to find that in
+spite of his illness his muscles went hard.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ye’ve seen Tilly,” continued Scotty with averted
+eyes. “Ye’ll not be so blind that ye’ve not observed
+that she’s no ordinar’ squaw. Well, three years ago
+Tilly was teacher in the Chippewa Indian School—thin
+and straight—a Carlisle graduate and all. She met
+Reivers, and shunned him—at first. Reivers did not
+chase her. ’Tis not his way. But he bent his will
+upon her, and the poor girl left her life behind her
+and followed him, and kept following him, until ye
+see her as she is now. She would cut your throat or
+nurse ye as she did, no matter which, did he but
+command her. And she’s not been the only one, either.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nor have the rest of them been red.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The swine!” muttered Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“More wolf than swine, lad. Perhaps more tiger
+than wolf. I don’t think Reivers intends to break
+his word to yon lass. But I suspect that he won’t
+have to. No; as it looks now, he won’t. Given the
+opportunity to put his will upon her and she’ll change
+her mind—like the others.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“He’s a beast, that’s what he is!” said Toppy angrily.
+“And any woman who would fall for him
+would get no more than she deserves, even if she’s
+treated like Tilly. Why, anybody can see that the
+man’s instincts are all wrong. Right in an animal
+perhaps, but wrong in a human being. The right
+kind of women would shun him like poison.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dunno,” said Campbell, rubbing his chin. “Yon
+lass over in the office is as sweet and womanly a
+little lass as I’ve seen sin’ I was a lad. And yet—look
+ye but out of the window, lad!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked out of the window in the direction
+in which Campbell pointed. The window commanded
+a view of the gate to the stockade. Reivers was standing
+idly before the gate. Miss Pearson was coming
+toward him. As she approached he carelessly turned
+his head and looked her over from head to foot. From
+where he sat Toppy could see her smile. Then Reivers
+calmly turned his back upon her, and the smile on
+the girl’s face died out. She stood irresolute for a
+moment, then turned and went slowly back toward
+the office, glancing occasionally over her shoulder
+toward the gate. Reivers did not look, but when she
+was out of sight he began to walk slowly toward the
+blacksmith-shop.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bah!” Toppy turned his eyes from the window
+in mingled anger and disgust. He sat for a moment
+with a multitude of emotions working at his heart.
+Then he laughed bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, well, well!” he mocked. “You’d expect that
+from a squaw, but not from a white woman.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mr. Reivers is a remarkable man,” said Campbell,
+shaking his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sure,” said Toppy, “and it’s a mistake to look for
+a remarkable woman up here in the woods.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dunno.” The smith looked a little hurt. “I
+dunno about that, lad. Yon lass seems remarkably
+sweet and ladylike to me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sure,” sneered Toppy, pointing his thumb toward
+the gate. “That looked like it, didn’t it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“As for that, you’ve heard what I’ve told you about
+the Snow-Burner and women,” said Campbell sorrowfully.
+“He has a masterful way with them.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“A fine thing to be masterful over a little blonde
+fool like that!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell scowled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Even though you have no respect for the lass,”
+he said curtly, “I see no reason why you should put
+it in words.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why not? Why shouldn’t I, or any one else, put
+it in words after that?” Toppy fairly shouted the
+words. “She’s made the thing public herself. She
+came creeping up to him right out where anybody
+who was looking could see her, and there won’t be a
+man in camp to-morrow but’ll have heard that she’s
+fallen for Reivers. Apparently she doesn’t care; so
+why should I, or you, or anybody else? Reivers has
+got a masterful way with women! Ha, ha! Let it
+go at that. It’s none of my business, that’s a cinch.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No,” agreed Campbell; “not if you talk that way,
+it’s none of your business; that’s sure.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy could have struck him for the emphatic
+manner in which he uttered the words. But Toppy
+was beginning to learn to control himself and he
+merely gritted his teeth. The sudden stab which
+he had felt in his heart at the sight of the girl and
+Reivers had passed. In one flash there had been overthrown
+the fine structure which he had built about her
+in his thoughts. He had placed her high above himself.
+For some unknown reason he had looked up
+to her from the first moment he had seen her. He
+had not considered himself worthy of her good opinion.
+And here she was flaunting her subservience to
+Reivers—to a cold, sneering brute—before the eyes
+of the whole camp!
+</p>
+<p>
+The rage and pain at the sight of the pair had come
+and gone, and that was all over. And now Toppy to
+his surprise found that it didn’t make much difference.
+The girl, and what she was, what she thought of him,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>
+or of Reivers, no longer were of prime importance
+to him. He didn’t care enough about that now to
+give her room in his thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers was what mattered now—Reivers, with
+his air of contemptuous dominance; Reivers, who had
+looked on and laughed when Toppy was tugging at
+the runner of the broken sleigh. That laugh seemed
+to ring in Toppy’s ears. It challenged him even as
+it contemned him. It said, “I am your master; doubt
+it if you dare”; even as Reivers’ cold smile had said
+the same to Rosky and the huddled bunch of Slavs.
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl—that was past. But Reivers had roused
+something deeper, something older, something fiercer
+than the feelings which had begun to stir in Toppy
+at the sight of the girl. Man—raw, big-thewed, world-old
+and always new man—had challenged unto man.
+And man had answered. The petty considerations of
+life were stripped away. Only one thing was of importance.
+The world to Toppy Treplin had become
+merely a place for Reivers, the Snow-Burner, and
+himself to settle the question which had cried for settlement
+since the moment when they first looked into
+each other’s eyes: Which was the better man?
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy smiled as he stretched himself and noted
+the new life that seemed to have come into his body.
+He knew what it meant. That strenuous siege of
+work and a week of fevered sweating had driven the
+alcohol out of his system. He was making a fresh
+start. A few weeks at the anvil now, and he would
+be in better shape than at any time since leaving school.
+He set his jaw squarely and heaved his big arms
+high above his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, Treplin,” came an unmistakable voice from
+the doorway, “you’re looking strenuous for a man
+just off the sickbed.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—THE DUEL BEGINS</h2>
+<p>
+“I’m feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers,” said
+Toppy quietly, though the voice of the man had
+thrilled him with the challenge in it. He turned his
+head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers
+with an expression of great serenity. The Big Game
+had begun between them, and Toppy was an expert
+at keeping his play hidden.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers,”
+he said. “Silly thing, to sprain an ankle; but
+thanks to your expert bandaging it’ll be ready to
+walk on soon.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“It wasn’t a bad sprain,” said Reivers, moving up
+and standing in front of him. That was Reivers all
+through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was standing,
+looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black
+anger boiled in Toppy’s heart, but by his expression
+one could read only that he was a grateful young
+man.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, it wasn’t a bad sprain,” continued Reivers,
+his upper lip lifting in its customary smile of scorn,
+“but—a man who attempts such heavy lifts must
+have no weak spot in him.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position
+in his chair and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Attempts’ is hardly the right word there, Reivers.
+Pardon me for differing with you,” he laughed.
+“You may remember that the attempt was a success.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+A glint of amusement in Reivers’ cold eyes showed
+that he appreciated that something more weighty than
+a mere question of words lay beneath that apparently
+casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed,
+as if trying to see beyond Toppy’s smile and read what
+lay behind, but Toppy’s good poker-face now stood
+him in good stead, and he looked blandly back at
+Reivers’ peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers
+laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting
+me,” he said. “A chap gets rusty out here, where
+none of the laws of speech are observed. I’ll depend
+upon you to bring me back to form again—later on.
+Is your ankle really feeling strong?”
+</p>
+<p>
+For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, well!” laughed Reivers. “Then Miss Pearson’s
+sympathy was all wasted. What’s the matter,
+Treplin? Aren’t you glad to hear that charming young
+lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and
+ask me to step in and see how you are this morning?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not particularly,” replied Toppy, although he was
+forced to admit to himself a glow at this explanation
+of the girl’s conversation with Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What are you interested in?” said Reivers suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I tell you what I’d like to do, Reivers; I’d like
+to learn the logging-business—learn how to run a
+camp like this—run it efficiently, I mean.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Worthy ambition,” came the instant reply, “and
+you’ve come to the right school. How fortunate for
+you that you fell into this camp! You might have
+got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You
+might even have fallen in with a humanitarian. Then
+you’d never have learned how to make men do things
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span>
+for you, and consequently you’d never have learned
+to run a camp efficiently.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in
+with me. I’ll rid you of the silly little ideas about
+right and wrong that books and false living have instilled
+in your head. I believe you’ve got a good
+head—almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you
+were in a situation where it was your life or the other
+fellow’s, you’d survive. That’s the proof of a good
+head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you?
+Good! Is your ankle strong enough for you to get
+around on?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using
+it as a cane, hobbled around the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, it will stand up all right,” he said. “What’s
+the idea?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come with me,” laughed Reivers, swinging toward
+the door. “We’re just in time for lesson number
+one on how to run a camp efficiently.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—“HELL-CAMP” COURT</h2>
+<p>
+As Reivers led the way out of the shop Toppy saw
+that Miss Pearson was standing in the door of
+the office across the way. He saw also that she was
+looking at him. He did not respond to her look nor
+volunteer a greeting, but deliberately looked away
+from her as he kept pace with Reivers, who was setting
+the way toward the gate of the stockade.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a morning such as the one when, back in
+Rail Head, the girl had kicked up the snow and said
+to him, “Isn’t it glorious?” But since then Toppy
+felt bitterly that he had grown so much older, so
+disillusioned, that never again would he be guilty
+of the tender feelings that the girl had evoked that
+morning. The sun was bright, the crisp air invigorating,
+and the blood bounded gloriously through his
+young body. But Toppy did not wax enthusiastic.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was grimly glad of the mighty stream of life
+that he felt surging within him; he would have use
+for all the might later on. But no more. The world
+was a harder, a less pretty place than he, in his inexperience,
+had fancied it before coming to Hell
+Camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s this lesson?” he asked gruffly of Reivers.
+“What are you going to show me?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A little secret in the art of keeping brute-men satisfied
+with the place in life which a superior mind
+has allotted to them,” replied Reivers. “What is the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>
+first need of the brute? Food, of course. And the
+second is—fight. Give the lower orders of mankind,
+which is the kind to use in running a camp efficiently,
+plenty of food and fight, and the problem of restlessness
+is solved.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s history, Treplin, as you know. If these
+foolish, timid capitalists and leaders of men who are
+searching their petty souls for a remedy to combat
+the ravages of the modern disease called Socialism
+only would read history intelligently, they would find
+the remedy made to order. Fight! War! Give the
+lower brutes war; let ’em get out and slaughter one
+another, and they’d soon forget their pitiful, clumsy
+attempts to think for themselves. Give them guns
+with a little sharp steel on the end of the barrel, turn
+them loose on each other—any excuse would do—and
+they’d soon be so busy driving said steel into one
+another’s thick bodies that the leaders could slip the
+yoke back on their necks and get ’em under hand
+again, where they belong.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And they’d be happier, too, because a man-brute
+has got to have so much fighting, or what he calls
+his brain begins to trouble him; and then he imagines
+he has a soul and is otherwise unhappy. If there is
+fighting, or the certain prospect of fighting, there’s
+no alleged thinking. There’s the solution of all difficulties
+with the lower orders. Of course you’ve noticed
+how perfectly contented and happy the men in
+this camp are?” he laughed, turning suddenly on
+Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” said Toppy. “Especially Rosky and his
+bunch.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The Snow-Burner smiled appreciatively.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Rosky, poor clod, hadn’t had any fighting. I’d
+overlooked him. Had I known that thoughts had begun
+to trouble his poor, half-ox brain, I’d have given
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>
+him some fighting, and he’d have been as content for
+the next few weeks as a man who—who’s just been
+through delirium tremens.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He had no object in life, you see. If he’d had
+a good enemy to hate and fight, he wouldn’t have been
+troubled by thoughts, and consequently he wouldn’t
+now be lying in his bunk with his leg in splints.
+</p>
+<p>
+“There is the system in a nutshell—give a man an
+enemy to hate and wish to destroy, and he won’t be
+any trouble to you during working-hours or after.
+That’s what I do—pick out the ones who might get
+restless and set them to hating each other. And now,”
+he concluded, as they reached the gate and passed
+through, “you’ll have a chance to see how it works
+out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The big gate, opened for them by two armed guards,
+swung shut behind them, and Toppy once more looked
+around the enclosure in which he had had his first
+glimpse of the Snow-Burner’s system of handling the
+men under him. The place this morning, however,
+presented a different, a more impressive scene. It
+was all but filled with a mass of rough-clad, rough-moving,
+rough-talking male humanity.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps a hundred and fifty men were waiting
+in the enclosure. For the greater part they were
+of the dark, thick and heavily clumsy type that Toppy
+had learned to include under the general title of
+Bohunk; but here and there over the dark, ox-like
+faces rose the fair head of a tall man of some Northern
+breed. Slavs comprised the bulk of the gathering;
+the Scandinavians, Irish, Americans—the “white
+men,” as they called themselves—were conspicuous
+only by contrast and by the manner in which they
+isolated themselves from the Slavs.
+</p>
+<p>
+And between the two breeds there was not much
+room for choice. For while the faces of the Slavs
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>
+were heavy with brute stupidity and malignity, those
+of the North-bred men reeked with fierceness, cruelty
+and crime. The Slavs were at Hell Camp because they
+were tricked into coming and forced to remain under
+shotgun rule; the others were there mostly because
+sheriffs found it unsafe and unprofitable to seek any
+man whom the Snow-Burner had in his camp. They
+were “hiding out.” Criminals, the majority of them,
+they preyed on the stupid Slavs as a matter of course;
+and this situation Reivers had utilised, as he put it,
+“to keep his men content.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Though there was a gulf of difference between the
+extreme types of the crowd, Toppy soon realised that
+just now their expressions were strangely alike. They
+were all impatient and excited. The excitement
+seemed to run in waves; one man moved and others
+moved with him. One threw up his head and others
+did likewise. Their faces were expectant and cruel.
+It was like the milling of excited cattle, only worse.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come along, Treplin,” said Reivers, and led the
+way toward the centre of the enclosure. The noises
+of the crowd, the talking, the short laughter, the
+shuffling, ceased instantly at his appearance. The
+crowd parted before him as before some natural force
+that brushed all men aside. It opened up even to
+the centre of the yard, and then Toppy saw whither
+Reivers was leading.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the bare ground was roped off a square which
+Toppy, with practised eye, saw was the regulation
+twenty-four-foot prize-fight ring. Rough, unbarked
+tamarack poles formed the corner-posts of the ring,
+and the ropes were heavy wire logging-cable. A yard
+from one side of the ring stood a table with a chair
+upon it. Reivers, with a careless, “Take a seat on
+the table and keep your eyes open,” stepped easily
+upon the table, seated himself in the chair and looked
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span>
+amused as the men instinctively turned their faces up
+toward him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, men,” he said in a voice which reached like
+cold steel into the far corners of the enclosure, “court
+is open. The first case is Jan Torta and his brother
+Mikel against Bill Sheedy, whom they accuse of stealing
+ninety-eight dollars from them while they slept.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As he spoke the names two young Slavs, clumsy
+but strongly built, their heavy faces for once alight
+with hate and desire for revenge, pushed close to one
+side of the ring, while on the other side a huge red-haired
+Celt, bloated and evil of face, stepped free of
+the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bill stole the money, all right,” continued Reivers,
+without looking at any of them. “He had the chance,
+and being a sneak thief by nature he took it. That’s
+all right. The Torta boys had the money; now Bill’s
+got it. The question is: Is Bill man enough to keep
+it? That’s what we’re going to settle now. He’s got
+to show that he’s a better man than the two fellows
+he took the money from. If he isn’t, he’s got to give
+up the money, or the two can have him to do what
+they want to with him. All right, boys; get ’em
+started there.”
+</p>
+<p>
+At his brisk order four men whom Toppy had seen
+around camp as guards stepped forward, two to
+Sheedy, two to the Torta brothers, and proceeded first
+to search them for weapons, next to strip them to the
+waist. Sheedy hung back.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not two av um tuh wanst, Mr. Reivers?” he asked
+humbly. “One after deh udder it oughta be; two
+tuh wanst, that ain’t no way.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And why not, Bill?” asked Reivers gently. “You
+took it from both of them, didn’t you? Then keep it
+against both of ’em, Bill. Throw ’em in there, boys!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked around at the rows of eager faces
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span>
+that were pressing toward the ringside. Prize-fights
+he had witnessed by the score. He had even participated
+in one or two for a lark, and the brute lust
+that springs into the eyes of spectators was no stranger
+to him. But never had he seen anything like this.
+There was none of the restraint imposed upon the
+human countenance by civilisation in the fierce faces
+that gathered about this ring.
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the dull eyes the primitive killing-animal
+showed unrestrained, unashamed. No dilettante interest
+in strength or skill here; merely the bare bloodthirsty
+desire to see a fellow-animal fight and bleed.
+Up above, the sky was clean and blue; the rough
+log walls shut out the rest of the world; the breathing
+of a mob of excited men was the only sound upon
+the quiet Sunday air. It was the old arena again;
+the merciless, gore-hungry crowd; the maddened
+gladiators; and upon the chair on the table, Reivers,
+lord of it all, the king-man, to whom it was all but
+an idle moment’s play.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers, above it all, untouched by it all, and yet
+directing and swaying it all as his will listed. Laws,
+rules, teachings, creeds—all were discarded. Primitive
+force had for the nonce been given back its rule.
+And over it, and controlling it, as well as each of the
+maddened eight-score men around the ring—Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so thoroughly did Reivers dominate the whole
+affair that Toppy, sitting carelessly on the edge of
+the table, was conscious of it, and knew that he, too,
+felt instinctively inclined to do as the men did—to
+look to Reivers for a sign before daring to speak or
+make a move. The Snow-Burner was in the saddle.
+It wasn’t natural, but every phase of the situation
+emanated from his master-man’s will. It was even
+his wish that Toppy should sit thus at his feet and
+look on, and his wish was gratified.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+But it was well that the visor of Toppy’s cap hid
+his eyes, else Reivers might have wondered at the
+look that flashed up at him from them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Throw ’em in!” snapped Reivers, and the handlers
+thrust the three combatants, stripped to the waists
+but wearing calked lumberjack shoes, through the
+ropes.
+</p>
+<p>
+A cry went up to the sky from a hundred and fifty
+throats around the ringside—a cry that had close kinship
+with the joyous, merciless “<i>Au-rr-ruh</i>” of a wolf
+about to make its kill. Then an instant’s silence as
+the rudely handled fighters came to their feet and
+faced for action. Then another hideous yelp rent
+the still air; the fighters had come together!
+</p>
+<p>
+“Queer ring-costumes, eh, Treplin?” came Reivers’
+voice mockingly. “Our own rules; the feet as well
+as the hands. Lord, what oxen!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The two Slavs had sprung upon their despoiler like
+two maddened cattle. Sheedy, rushing to meet them,
+head down, swung right and left overhand; and with
+a mighty smacking of hard fist on naked flesh, one
+Torta rolled on the ground while his brother stopped
+in his tracks, his arms pressed to his middle. The
+crowd bellowed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, I knew Sheedy had been a pug,” said Reivers
+judicially.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sheedy deliberately took aim and swung for the jaw
+of the man who had not gone down. The Slav instinctively
+ducked his head, and the blow, slashing
+along his jawbone, tore loose his ear. Half stunned,
+he dropped to his knees, and Sheedy stepped back
+to poise for a killing kick. But now the man who
+had been knocked down first was on his feet, and
+with the scream of a wounded animal he hurled himself
+through the air and went down, his arms close-locked
+around Sheedy’s right leg. Sheedy staggered.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span>
+The ring became a little hell of distorted human speech.
+Sheedy bellowed horrible curses as he beat to a pulp
+the face that sought to bury itself in his thigh; his
+assailant screeched in Slavish terror; and the bull-like
+roar of his brother, rising to his feet with cleared
+senses and springing into the battle, intermingled with
+both. Sheedy’s red face went pale.
+</p>
+<p>
+Around the ringside the faces of the Slavs shone
+with relief. The fight was going their way; they
+roared encouragement and glee in their own guttural
+tongue. The others—Irish, Americans, Scandinavians—rooting
+for Sheedy only because he was of their
+breed, were silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hang tough, Bill,” said one man quietly; and then
+in a second the slightly superior brains in Sheedy’s
+head had turned the battle. Like a flash he dropped
+flat on his back as his fresh assailant reached out to
+grip him. The furious Slav followed him helplessly
+in the fall; and a single gruff, appreciative shout came
+from the few “white men.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For they had seen, even as the Slav stumbled, Bill
+Sheedy’s left leg shoot up like a catapult, burying
+the calked shoe to the ankle in the man’s soft middle
+and flinging him to one side, a shuddering, senseless
+wreck. The man with his arms around Sheedy’s leg
+looked up and saw. He was alone now, alone against
+the big man who had knocked him down with such
+ease. Toppy saw the man’s mouth open and his face
+go yellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Na, na, na!” he cried piteously, as Sheedy’s blows
+again rained upon him. “I give up, give up, give
+up!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried to bury his face in Bill’s thigh; and Bill,
+mad with success, strove to pound him loose.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Kill him, Bill!” said one of the Irishmen quietly.
+“You got him now; kill him.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Stop.” Reivers did not raise his voice. He
+seemed scarcely interested. Yet the roars around the
+ring died down. Sheedy stopped a blow half delivered
+and dropped his arms. The Slav released his
+clawlike hold and ran, sobbing, toward his prostrate
+brother.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right, Bill; you keep the money—for all
+them,” said Reivers. “Clear out the ring, boys, and
+get that other pair in there.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The guards, springing into the ring as if under a
+lash, picked up the senseless man and thrust him like
+a sack of grain through the ropes and on to the ground
+at the feet of a group of his countrymen. Toppy
+saw these pick the man up and bear him away. The
+man’s head hung down limply and dragged on the
+ground, and a thin stream of blood ran steadily out
+of one side of his mouth. His brother followed, loudly
+calling him by name.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Very efficacious, that left leg of Bill’s; eh, Treplin?”
+said Reivers lightly. “Bill was the superior
+creature there. He had the wit and will to survive
+in a crisis; therefore he is entitled to the rewards
+of the superior over the inferior, which in this case
+means the ninety-eight dollars which the Torta boys
+once had. That’s justice—natural justice for you,
+Treplin; and all the fumbling efforts of the lawmakers
+who’ve tried through the ages to reduce life to a
+pen-and-paper basis haven’t been able to change the
+old rule one bit.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll admit that courts and all the fakery that goes
+with them have reduced the thing to a battle of brains,
+but after all it’s the same old battle; the stronger
+win and hold. And,” he concluded, waving his hand
+at the crowd, “you’ll admit that Bill, and those Torta
+boys wouldn’t be at their best in a contest of intelligence.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy refused Reivers the pleasure of seeing how
+the brutality of the affair disgusted him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why don’t you follow the thing out to its logical
+conclusion?” he said carelessly. “The thing isn’t settled
+as long as the Torta boys can possibly make reprisals.
+To be a consistent savage you’d have to let
+’em go to it until one had killed the other. But even
+you don’t dare to do that, do you, Reivers?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed, but the look that he bent on Toppy’s
+bland face indicated that he was a trifle puzzled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then you wouldn’t be running the camp efficiently,
+Treplin,” he said. “It wouldn’t make any difference
+if they were all Tortas; but Bill’s a valuable man.
+He furnishes some one a bellyful of hating and fighting
+every week. No; I wouldn’t have Bill killed for
+less than two hundred dollars. He’s one of my best
+antidotes for the disease of discontent.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The guards now had pulled two other men up to
+the ropes and were searching and stripping them.
+Toppy stared at the disparity in the sizes of the men
+as the clothes were pulled off them. One stood up
+strong and straight, the muscles bulging big beneath
+his dark skin, his neck short and heavy, his head
+cropped and round. He wore a small, upturned moustache
+and carried himself with a certain handy air
+that indicated his close acquaintance with ring-events.
+The other man was short and dark, obviously an Italian;
+the skin of his body was a sickly white, his face
+olive green. He stood crouched, and beneath his
+ragged beard two teeth gleamed, like the fangs of a
+snarling dog.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Antonio, the Knife-Expert, and Mahmout, the
+Strangling Bulgarian,” announced Reivers laughingly.
+“Tony tried to stick Mahmout because of a little lady
+back in Rail Head, and made such a poor job of
+it that Mahmout has offered to meet him in the ring;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span>
+Tony with his knife, Mahmout with his wrestling-tricks.
+Start ’em off.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The Bulgarian was under the ropes and upright in
+the ring before the Italian had started. He was in
+his stocking-feet, and despite the clumsiness of his
+build he moved with a quickness and ease that told
+of the fine co-ordination of the effective athlete.
+When the Italian entered the ring he held his right
+hand behind his back, and in the hand gleamed the
+six-inch blade of a wicked-looking stiletto.
+</p>
+<p>
+A shiver ran along Toppy’s spine, but he continued
+to play the game.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Evidently Mahmout isn’t a valuable man; you
+don’t care what happens to him,” he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not particularly,” replied Reivers seriously. “He’s
+a good man on the rollways—nothing extra. Still, I
+hardly believe Tony can kill him—not this time, at
+least.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The faces around the ring grew fiercer now.
+Growled curses and exclamations came through
+clenched teeth. Here was the spectacle that the brute-spirit
+hungered for—the bare, living flesh battling for
+life against the merciless, gleaming steel.
+</p>
+<p>
+The big Bulgarian moved neatly forward, bent over
+at the waist, his strong arms extended, hands open
+before him in the practised wrestler’s guard and attack.
+His feet did not leave the ground as he sidled
+forward, and his eyes never moved from the Italian’s
+right arm. The latter, snarling and panting, retreated
+slightly, then began to circle carefully, his small eyes
+searching for the opening through which he could leap
+in and drive home his steel.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Bulgarian turned with him, his guard always
+before him, as a bull turns its head to face the circling
+wolf. Without a sound the knife-man suddenly
+stopped and lunged a sweeping slash at the menacing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span>
+hands. Mahmout, grasping for a hold on hand or
+wrist, caught the tip of the blade in his palm, and a
+slow bellow of rage shook him as he saw the blood
+flow. But he did not lower his guard nor take his
+eyes from his opponent.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Italian retreated and circled again. A horrible
+sneer distorted his face, and the knife flashed in
+the sunlight as he slashed it to and fro before the
+other’s hands. The crowd growled its appreciation.
+Three times Antonio leaped forward, slashed, and
+leaped back again; and each time the blood flowed
+from Mahmout’s slashed fingers. But the wrestler’s
+guard never lowered nor did he falter in his set plan
+of battle. He was working to get his man into a
+corner.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Italian soon saw this and, leaping nimbly sidewise,
+lunged for Mahmout’s ribs. The right arm of
+the Bulgarian dropped in time to save his life, but
+the knife, deflected from its fatal aim, ripped through
+the top muscles of his back for six inches. The mob
+roared at the fresh blood, but Mahmout was working
+silently. In his spring the Italian had only leaped
+toward another corner of the ring.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mahmout leaped suddenly toward him. Antonio,
+stabbing swiftly at the hands reached out for him,
+jumped back. A cry from a countryman in the crowd
+warned him. Swiftly he glanced over his shoulder,
+saw that he was cornered, and with a low, sweeping
+swing of the arm he threw the knife low at Mahmout’s
+abdomen.
+</p>
+<p>
+The blade glinted as it flashed through the air;
+it thudded as it struck home; but the death-cry which
+the mob yelped out died short. With the expert’s
+quickness Mahmout had flung his huge forearms before
+the speeding blade. Now he held his left arm
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span>
+up. The stiletto, quivering from the impact, had
+pierced it through.
+</p>
+<p>
+With a fierce roar Mahmout plucked out the knife,
+hurled it from the ring and dived forward. The
+Italian fought like a fury, feet, teeth and fingernails
+making equal play. He sank his teeth in the injured
+left arm. Mahmout groped with his one sound hand
+and methodically clamped a hold on an ankle. He
+made sure that the hold was a firm one; then he
+wrenched suddenly—once. The Italian screamed and
+stiffened straight up under the appalling pain. Then
+he fell flat to the ground, and Toppy saw that his
+right foot was twisted squarely around and that the
+leg lay limp on the ground like a twisted rag.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Stop,” said Reivers, and Mahmout stepped back.
+“Take Tony’s knife away from him, boys. Mahmout
+wins—for the time being.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Inconsistent again,” muttered Toppy. “Your
+scheme is all fallacies, Reivers. You give Tony a
+knife with which he may kill Mahmout at one stroke,
+but you don’t let Mahmout finish him when he’s got
+him down. Why don’t you carry your system to its
+logical conclusion?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why don’t I?” chuckled Reivers, stepping down
+from the table. “Why, simply because Signor Antonio
+is the camp cook, and cooks are too scarce to
+be destroyed unnecessarily. Now come along, Treplin.
+Court’s adjourned; a light docket to-day. I’ve
+been thinking of your wanting to learn how to run
+a logging-camp. I’m going to give you a change of
+jobs. You’ll be no good in the blacksmith-shop till
+your ankle’s normal again. Come along; I’ll show you
+what I’ve picked out for you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned away from the ring as from a finished
+episode in the day’s work. That was over. Whether
+Torta or Antonio lived or died, were whole or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span>
+crippled for the rest of their lives, had no room in his
+thoughts. He strode toward the gate as if the yard
+were empty, and the crowd opened a way far before
+him. Outside the gate he led the way around
+the stockade toward where the river roared and tumbled
+through the chutes of Cameron Dam.
+</p>
+<p>
+A cliff-like ledge, perhaps thirty feet in height,
+situated close to one end of the dam, was Reivers’
+objective, and he led Toppy around to the side facing
+the river. Here the dirt had been scraped away
+on the face of the ledge, and a great cave torn in
+the exposed rock. The hole was probably fifty feet
+wide, and ran from twelve to fifteen feet under the
+brow of the ledge. Toppy was surprised to see no
+timbers upholding the rocky roof, which seemed at
+any moment likely to drop great masses of jagged
+stone into the opening beneath.
+</p>
+<p>
+“My little rock-pile,” explained Reivers lightly.
+“When my brutes aren’t good I put ’em to work here.
+The rock goes into the dam out there. Just at present
+Rosky’s band of would-be malcontents are the
+ones who are suffering for daring to be dissatisfied
+with the—ah—simplicity, let us say, of Hell Camp.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He laughed mirthlessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m going to put you in charge of this quarry,
+Treplin. You’re to see that they get one hundred
+wheelbarrows of rock out of here per hour. You’ll
+be here at daylight to-morrow.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy nodded quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s the punishment here?” he asked, puzzled.
+“It looks like nothing more than hard work to me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers smiled the same smile that he had smiled
+upon Rosky.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Look at the roof of that pit, Treplin,” he said.
+“You’ve noticed that it isn’t timbered up. Occasionally
+a stone drops down. Sometimes several stones.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span>
+But one hundred barrows an hour have to come out
+of there just the same. And those rocks up there,
+you’ll notice, are beautifully sharp and heavy.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy felt Reivers’ eyes upon him, watching to see
+what effect this explanation would have, and consequently
+he no more betrayed his feelings than he had
+at the brutal scenes of the “court.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see,” he said casually. “I suppose this is why
+you made me read up on fractures?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Partly,” said Reivers. He looked up at the jagged
+rocks in the roof of the pit and grinned. “And sometimes
+an accident here calls for a job for a pick and
+shovel. But I’m just, Treplin; only the malcontents
+are put to work in here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That is, those who have dared to declare themselves
+something besides your helpless slaves.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Or dared to think of declaring themselves thus,”
+agreed Reivers promptly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I see.” Toppy was looking blandly at the roof,
+but his mind was working busily.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Just why do you give me charge of this hole,
+Reivers—if you don’t mind my asking? Isn’t it rather
+an unusual honour for a green hand to be put over a
+crew like this?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Unusual! Oh, how beastly banal of you, Treplin!”
+laughed Reivers carelessly. “Surely you didn’t
+expect me to do the usual thing, did you? You say
+you want to learn how to handle a camp like this.
+You’re an interesting sort of creature, and I’d like to
+see you work out in the game of handling men, so I
+give you this chance. Oh, I’ll do great things for you,
+Treplin, before I’m done with you! You can imagine
+all that I’ve got in store for you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The smile vanished and he turned away. He was
+through with this incident, too. Without another
+word or look at Toppy he went back to the stockade,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span>
+his mind already busy with some other project.
+Toppy stood looking after him until Reivers’ broad
+back disappeared around the corner of the stockade.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, you clever devil!” he muttered. “I can’t imagine.
+But whatever it is, I promise I’ll hand it back
+to you with a little interest, or furnish a job for a
+pick and shovel.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He walked slowly back to the blacksmith-shop. He
+was glad to be left alone. Though he had permitted
+no sign of it to escape him, Toppy had been enraged
+and sickened at what he had seen in the stockade.
+He admitted to himself that it was not the
+fact that men had been disabled and crippled, nor
+the brutal rules that had governed, nor that men had
+been exposed to death at the hands of others before
+his eyes, that had stirred him so. It was—Reivers.
+Reivers sitting up there on the table playing with
+men’s bodies and lives as with so many cards—Reivers,
+the dominant, lord over his fellows.
+</p>
+<p>
+The veins swelled in Toppy’s big neck as he thought
+of Reivers, and his hitherto good-natured face took
+on a scowl that might have become some ancestral
+man-captain in the days of mace and mail, but which
+never before had found room on Toppy’s countenance—not
+even when the opposing half-backs were guilty
+of slugging. But he was playing another game now,
+an older one, a fiercer one, and one which called to
+him as nothing had called before. It was the man-game
+now; and out there in the old, stern forest,
+spurred by the challenge of the man who was his natural
+enemy, the primitive fighting-man in Toppy shook
+off the restraint with which breeding, education and
+living had cumbered him, and stood out in a fashion
+that would have shocked Toppy’s friends back East.
+</p>
+<p>
+Near the shop he met Miss Pearson. By her manner
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span>
+he saw that she had been waiting for him, but
+Toppy merely raised his cap and made to pass on.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mr. Treplin!” There was astonishment at his
+rudeness in her exclamation.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well?” said Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your ankle?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, yes. Pardon me for not expressing my thanks
+before. It’s almost well—thanks to you and Mr.
+Reivers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She made a slight shrinking movement and stood
+looking at him for a moment. She opened her lips,
+but no words came.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Old Scotty told me about your kindness in coming
+to see me, you and Mr. Reivers together,” said
+Toppy. “It was a relief to learn that your confidence
+in Reivers was justified.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. A
+troubled look swept over her face. Then with a toss
+of the head she turned and crossed the road, and
+Toppy swung on his way to the room in the rear of
+the shop and closed the door behind him with a vicious
+slam.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—TOPPY’S FIRST MOVE</h2>
+<p>
+Next morning, in the cold stillness which precedes
+the coming of daylight in the North,
+Toppy stood leaning on his axe-handle cane and
+watched his crew of a dozen men file out of the stockade
+gate and turn toward the stone-quarry. They
+walked with the driven air of prisoners going to punishment.
+In the darkness their squat, shapeless figures
+were scarcely human. Their heads hung, their
+steps were listless, as if they had just completed a
+hard day’s work instead of having arisen from a
+hearty breakfast.
+</p>
+<p>
+The complete lack of spirit evinced by the men irritated
+Toppy. Was Reivers right after all? Were
+they nothing but clods, undeserving of fair and intelligent
+treatment?
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hey! Wake up there! You look like a bunch
+of corpses. Show some life!” cried Toppy, in whom
+the bitter morning air was sending the red blood
+tingling.
+</p>
+<p>
+The men did not raise their heads. They quickened
+their stumbling steps a little, as a heavy horse
+shambles forward a little under the whip. One or
+two looked back, beyond where Toppy was walking
+at the side of the line. Treplin with curiosity followed
+their glances. A grim-lipped shotgun guard
+with a hideous hawk nose had emerged from the darkness,
+and with his short-barrelled weapon in the crook
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span>
+of his arm was following the line at a distance of
+fifty or sixty feet. Toppy halted abruptly. So did
+the guard.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s the idea?” demanded Toppy. “Reivers
+send you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” said the guard gruffly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Does it take two of us to make this gang work?”
+Toppy was irritated. Reivers, he knew, would have
+handled the gang alone.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The boss sent me,” said the guard, with a finality
+that indicated that for him that ended the discussion.
+</p>
+<p>
+The daylight now came wanly up the gap made
+in the forest by the brawling river, and the men stood
+irresolute before the quarry and peered up anxiously
+at the roof of the pit.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Grab your tools,” said Toppy. “Get in there and
+get to it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The men, some of them taking picks and crowbars,
+some wheelbarrows, were soon ready to begin the
+day’s work. But there was a hitch somewhere. They
+stood at the entrance to the pit and did not go in.
+They looked up at the threatening roof; then they
+looked anxiously, pleadingly, at Toppy. But Toppy
+was thinking savagely of how Reivers would have
+handled the gang alone and he paid no attention.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get in there!” he roared. “Come on; get to
+work!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Accustomed to being driven, they responded at once
+to his command. Between two fears, fear of the dropping
+rocks and fear of the man over them, they entered
+the quarry and began the day’s work. The guard
+took up a position on a slight eminence, where he was
+always in plain sight of the men, whether in the cave
+or wheeling the rock out to the dam. He held his
+gun constantly in the hollow of his arm, like a hunter.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Ten minutes after the first crowbar had clanged
+against rock in the quarry there was a rumbling sound,
+a crash, a scream; and the men came scrambling out
+in terror. Their rush stopped abruptly just outside
+the cave. Toppy was standing directly before them;
+the man with the gun had noisily cocked his weapon
+and brought the black barrel to bear on the heads
+of the men. Half of them slunk at once back into
+the cave. One of the others held up a bleeding hand
+to Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, pleess, bahss, pleess,” he pleaded. “Rock kill
+us next time. Pleess, bahss!”
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a moment of silence while Toppy looked
+at the men’s terror-stricken faces. The shotgun guard
+rattled the slide on his gun. The men began to retreat
+into the cave, their helplessness and hopelessness
+writ large upon their flat faces.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hold on there!” said Toppy suddenly. After all,
+a fellow couldn’t do things like that—drive helpless
+cattle like these to certain injury, even possible death.
+“I’ll take a look in there.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men
+and entered the pit. A few rocks had dropped from
+the roof, luckily falling in a far corner beyond where
+the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how
+serious this petty accident was; for the whole roof
+of the cave now was loosened, and as sure as the
+men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath they
+would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Like rats in a trap,” he thought. “Hi!” he called.
+“Get out of here. Get out!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile
+of old timbers which probably had been used for piling
+while the dam was being put in. Thither he now
+led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself
+he hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>
+each bearing a timber. A sudden change had come
+over the men as he indicated what he was going to
+do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was
+gone. Some of them smiled, and some talked excitedly.
+Under Toppy’s direction they went to work
+with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave.
+It was only a half-hour’s work to place the props so
+that the men working beneath were free of any serious
+danger from above. Toppy could sense the
+change of feeling toward him that had come over the
+men as they saw the timbers go into place, and he
+was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably.
+They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and
+the gratitude in their faces was pitiful to behold.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now jump!” said Toppy when the roof was safely
+propped. “Hustle and make up the time we’ve lost.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang
+with noise as the men furiously tore loose the rock
+and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a long
+breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard
+spat in disgust.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Will you do me a favour?” said Toppy, suddenly
+swinging toward him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What is it?” asked the man.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him
+your services are no longer required at this spot. Tell
+him I said you looked like a fool, standing up there
+with your bum gun. Tell him—” Toppy, despite his
+sore ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside
+the guard before the latter thought of making a
+move—“that I said I’d throw you and your gun in
+the river if you didn’t duck. And for your own information—”
+Toppy was towering over the man—“I’ll
+do it right now, unless you get out of here—quick!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The guard’s shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy’s and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span>
+failed. Against the Slavs he would have dared to
+use his gun; they were his inferiors. Against Toppy
+he did not dare even so much as to think of the
+weapon, and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid
+of men who looked him in the eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The boss sent me here,” he said sullenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to
+the guard’s. The man shrank.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Duck!” said Toppy. That was all. The guard
+moved away with an alacrity that showed how uncomfortable
+the spot had become to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ll hear about this!” he whined from a distance.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Toppy laughed, laughed carelessly and loudly,
+rampant with the sensation of power. The men, scurrying
+past with barrows of rock, noted the retreat
+of the guard and smiled. They looked up at Toppy
+with slavish admiration, as lesser men look up to
+the champion who has triumphed before their eyes.
+One or two of the older men raised their hats as they
+passed him, their Old-World serf-like way of showing
+how they felt toward him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Jump!” ordered Toppy gruffly. “Get a move on
+there; make up that lost time.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had said that a hundred barrows an hour
+must be dumped into the dam. With a half hour
+lost in shoring up the roof, there were fifty loads to
+be caught up during the day if the average was to
+be maintained. Carefully timing each load and keeping
+tally for half an hour, Toppy saw that a hundred
+loads per hour was the limit of his gang working
+at a normal pace. To get out the hundred loads they
+must keep steadily at work, with no time lost because
+of the falling rocks from above.
+</p>
+<p>
+He began to see the method of Reivers’ apparent
+madness in placing him in charge of the gang. With
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span>
+the gang working in the dead, terrorised fashion that
+had characterised their movements before the timbers
+were in place, Toppy knew that he would have
+failed; he could not have got out the hundred loads
+per hour. Reivers would have proved him to be his
+inferior; for Reivers, with his inhumanity, would have
+driven the gang as if no lives nor limbs hung on the
+tissue.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy smiled grimly as he looked at his watch and
+marked new figures on the tally sheet. The men, pitifully
+grateful for the protecting timbers, had taken
+hold of their work with such new life that the rock
+was going into the dam at the rate of one hundred and
+twenty loads an hour.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Move number one!” muttered Toppy, snapping
+shut his watch. “I wonder what the Snow-Burner’s
+come-back will be when he knows. Hey, you roughnecks!
+Keep moving, there; keep moving!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The men responded cheerfully to his every command.
+They could gladly obey his will; they were
+safe under him; he had taken care of them, the helpless
+ones. That evening, when they filed back into
+the stockade under Toppy’s watchful eye, one of the
+older men, a swarthy old fellow with large brass rings
+in his ears, sank his hat low as he passed in.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Buna nopte, Domnule,” he said humbly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What did he say?” demanded Toppy of one of
+the young men who knew a little English.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Plees, bahss; old man, he Magyar,” was the reply.
+“He say, ‘Good night, master.’”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy stood dumfounded while the line passed
+through the gate.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” he said with a grin, “what do you know
+about that?”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—REIVERS REPLIES</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers did not come to the shop that night for
+his evening diversion, nor did Toppy see him
+at all during the next day. But in the morning following
+he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in
+his own peculiar way of Toppy’s action in driving
+the shotgun guard away from the quarry. As the
+line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill
+half light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang,
+a cheerful, stocky man called Mikal, was missing. In
+his place, walking with the successful plug-ugly’s insolent
+swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the
+appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy
+knew that Reivers had made another move in his tantalising
+game.
+</p>
+<p>
+He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought
+of it. Reivers was playing with him, too, playing even
+as he had played with Rosky! And Toppy knew that,
+like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too,
+to be crushed—to be marked as an inferior, to be
+made to acknowledge Reivers as his master.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy’s
+eyes and had, with his cold smile of complete
+confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge. The
+substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers’ pet troublemaker,
+for an effective workman was a definite move
+toward Toppy’s humiliation.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was nothing in Toppy’s manner, however,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span>
+to indicate his feelings as he followed the line to
+the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy’s swagger, by
+which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for
+trouble, to go as if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely
+simple of mind, leaped instantly to the conclusion
+that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered
+more insolently than ever. He was in an irritable
+mood this morning, was Bill Sheedy; and as soon
+as the gang was out of sight of the stockade—and,
+thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight
+of Reivers—he began to vent his irritation upon his
+fellow-workmen.
+</p>
+<p>
+He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them,
+threatened them with his fists, kicked them carelessly.
+There was no finesse in Bill’s method; he was mad
+and showed it. When the daylight came up the river
+sufficiently strong to begin the day’s work, Bill had
+worked himself up to a proper frame of mind for
+his purpose. He stood still while the other men willingly
+seized their tools and barrows and tramped into
+the quarry.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated
+by his manner he was quite oblivious of Sheedy’s
+existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy with
+a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to
+go in with the other men. The order did not come.
+Toppy was busy directing the men where to begin their
+work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill finally
+was forced to call attention to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+“——!” he growled, spitting generously. “Yah
+ain’t goin’ tuh git me tuh wurruk in no hole like that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right, Bill,” said Toppy instantly. “All right.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was staggered. His simple mind failed utterly
+to comprehend that there might lie something behind
+Toppy’s apparently humble manner. Bill could see
+only one thing—the straw-boss was afraid of him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yah —— know it, it’s all right!” he spluttered.
+“If it ain’t I’d —— soon make it all right.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sure,” said Toppy, and without looking toward
+Bill he hurried into the quarry to see how the timbers
+were standing the strain. Bill stood puzzled. He had
+bluffed the straw-boss, sure enough; but still the thing
+wasn’t entirely satisfactory. The boss didn’t seem to
+care whether he worked or whether he loafed. Bill
+refused to be treated with such little consideration.
+He was of more importance than that.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hey, you!” he called as Toppy emerged from the
+pit. “I’m going to wheel rock down to the dam, that’s
+what I’m going tuh do. Going to wheel it; but yuh
+ain’t goin’ tuh make me go in there and dig it. See?
+I’m going to wheel rock.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Now for the first time Toppy seemed to consider
+Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What makes you think you are?” he said quietly.
+He was looking at his watch, but Bill noticed that
+in spite of his sore ankle and cane the boss had managed
+to move near to him in uncannily swift fashion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You know you can’t work here now,” Toppy continued
+before Bill’s thick wits had framed an answer.
+“You won’t go into the quarry, so I can’t use you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill stared as if bereft of all of his faculties. The
+boss had slipped his watch back into his pocket. He
+had turned away.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Can’t use me—can’t——Say! Who says I can’t
+work here?” roared Bill, shaking his fists. He was
+standing on the plank on which the wheelbarrows were
+rolled out of the cave, blocking the way of the men
+with the first loads of the day.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Look out, Bill!” said Toppy softly, turning around.
+Instinctively Bill threw up his guard—threw it up
+to guard his jaw. Toppy’s left drove into his solar
+plexus so hard that Bill seemed to be moulded on to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>
+the fist, hung there until he dropped and rolled backward
+on the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get along there!” commanded Toppy to the wheel-barrowmen.
+“The way’s clear. Jump!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Grinning and snatching glances of ridicule at the
+prostrate Sheedy, they hurried past. They dumped
+their loads in the dam and came back with empty
+barrows, and still Sheedy lay there, like a dumped
+grain-sack, to one side of their path. The flat faces
+of the men cracked with grins as they looked worshipfully
+at Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Jump!” said he. “Get a move on, you roughnecks”
+</p>
+<p>
+And they grinned more widely in sheer delight at
+his rough ordering.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill Sheedy lay for a long time as he had fallen.
+The blow he had stopped would have done for a pugilist
+in good condition, and Sheedy’s midriff was soft
+and fat. Finally he raised his head and looked around.
+Such surprise and wobegoneness showed in his expression
+that the grinning Slavs laughed outright at
+him. Bill slowly came to a sitting posture and drew
+a hand across his puzzled brow while he looked dully
+at the laughing men and at Toppy. Then he remembered
+and he dropped his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get on your way, Bill,” said Toppy casually. “If
+you’re not able to walk, I’ll have half a dozen of the
+men help you. You’re through here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill lurched unsteadily to his feet and staggered
+away a few steps. That terrific punch and the iron-calm
+manner of the man who had dealt it had scared
+him. His first thought was to get out of reach; his
+second, one of anger at the Bohunks who dared to
+laugh at him, Bill Sheedy, the fighting man!
+</p>
+<p>
+But the fashion in which the men laughed took the
+nerve out of Bill. They were laughing contemptuously
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span>
+at him; they looked down upon him; they were
+no longer afraid. And there were a dozen of them,
+and they laughed together; and Bill Sheedy knew that
+his days as camp bully were over. The straw-boss
+was looking at him coldly, and Bill moved farther
+away. Fifteen minutes later the straw-boss, who had
+apparently been oblivious of his presence, swung
+around and said abruptly:
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s the matter, Bill? Why don’t you go back
+to Reivers?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill’s growled reply contained several indistinct but
+definitely profane characterisations of Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I can’t go back to him,” Sheedy said sullenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why not?” laughed Treplin. “He’s your friend,
+isn’t he? He let you keep the money you’d stolen,
+and all that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Keep——!” growled Sheedy. “He’s got that himself.
+Made me make him a present of it, or—or he’d
+turn me over for a little trouble I had down in
+Duluth.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy stiffened and looked at him carefully.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Telling the truth, Bill?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ask him,” replied Sheedy. “He don’t make no
+bones about it; he gets something on you and then
+he grafts on you till you’re dry.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy stood silent while he assimulated this information.
+His scrutiny of Sheedy told him that
+the man was telling the truth. He felt grateful to
+Sheedy; through him he had got a new light on
+Reivers’ character, light which he knew he could use
+later on.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Through making an ass of yourself here, Bill?” he
+asked briskly. Bill’s answer was to hang his head
+in a way that showed how thoroughly all the fight
+was taken out of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right, then; grab a wheelbarrow and get into
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span>
+the pit. Keep your end up with the other men and
+there’ll be no hard feelings. Try to play any of your
+tricks, and it’s good night for you. Now get to it,
+or get out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Sheedy’s rush for a wheelbarrow showed how relieved
+he was. He had been standing between the
+devil and the deep sea—between Reivers with his awful
+displeasure and Toppy with his awful punch; and he
+was eager to find a haven.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I ain’t trying any tricks,” he muttered as he made
+for the quarry. “The Snow-Burner—he’s the one.
+He copped me dough and sent me down here and told
+me to work off my mad on you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, you’ve worked it off now, I guess,” said
+Toppy curtly. “Dig in, now; you’re half a dozen
+loads behind.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Sheedy did not fill the place of the man he had
+supplanted, for in his mixed-ale condition he was unable
+to work a full day at a strong man’s pace. However,
+he did so well that when Toppy checked up in
+the evening he found that his tally again was well
+over the stipulated average of a hundred loads of rock
+per hour.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Move two,” he thought. “I wonder what comes
+next?”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—“JOKER AND DEUCES WILD”</h2>
+<p>
+When Toppy went back to the shop that evening
+he found old Campbell cooking the evening
+meal with only his right hand in use, the left being
+wrapped in a neat bandage.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s what comes of leaving me without a helper,”
+grumbled the Scot as Toppy looked enquiringly at the
+injured hand. “I maun have ye back, lad; I will not
+be knocking my hands to pieces doing two men’s work
+to please any man. And yet—” he cocked his head
+on one side and looked fondly at the bandage—“I
+dunno but what ’twas worth it. I’m an auld man, and
+it’s long sin’ I had a pretty lass make fuss over me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What?” snapped Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, go on with ye, lad,” teased Scotty, holding the
+bandage up for his admiration. “Can not you see
+that I’m by nature a fav’rite with the ladies? Yon
+lass in the office sewed this bandage on my old meat
+hook.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Does it hurt, Mr. Campbell?’ says she. ‘Not
+as much as something that’s heavy on my mind, lass,’
+says I. ‘What’s that?’ she says. ‘Mr. Reivers and
+you, lass,’ says I; and I told her as well as an old
+man can tell a lass who’s little more than a child just
+what the Snow-Burner is. ‘I can’t believe it,’ says
+she. ‘He’s a gentleman.’ ‘More’s the pity,’ I says.
+’That’s what makes him dangerous.’ ‘Were you not
+afraid of him at first?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Tell
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span>
+me honest, as you would your own father,’ says I, ‘are
+you not afraid of him now?’
+</p>
+<p>
+“With that she gave me a look like a little fawn
+that has smelled the wolf circling ‘round it, but she
+will not answer. ‘He can’t be what you say he is,’
+she says, trembling. ‘Lass,’ says I, ‘a week ago you
+would never have believed it possible that you’d ever
+wish aught to do with him. Now you walk with him
+and talk with him, and smile when he does.’ And
+I told her of Tilly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘It’s not so,’ says she. ‘It can’t be so. Mr.
+Reivers is a gentleman, not a brute. He’s too strong
+and fine,’ says she, ‘for such conduct.’ And the bandage
+being done, I was dismissed with a toss of the head.
+Aye, aye, lad; but ’twas fine to have her little fingers
+sewing away around my old hand. Yon’s a fine, sweet
+lass; but I fear me Reivers has set his will to win
+her.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy made no reply. Campbell’s words aroused
+only one emotion in him—a fresh flare of anger
+against Reivers. For it was Reivers, and his strength
+and dominance, that was responsible. Toppy already
+was sorry for the swift judgment that he had passed
+on the girl on Sunday, and for the rudeness which,
+in his anger, he had displayed toward her. He knew
+now the power that lay in Reivers’ will, the calm,
+compelling fire that lurked in his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+Men quailed before those eyes and did their bidding.
+And a girl, a little girl who must naturally
+feel grateful toward him for her position, could hardly
+be expected to resist the Snow-Burner’s undeniable
+fascinations. Why should she? Reivers was everything
+that women were drawn to in men—kinglike in
+his power of mind and body, striking in appearance,
+successful in whatever he sought to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was inevitable that the girl should fall under his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span>
+spell, but the thought of it sent a chill up Toppy’s
+spine as from the thought of something monstrous.
+He raged inwardly as he remembered how clearly the
+girl had let him see his own insignificance in her estimation
+compared with Reivers. She had refused
+to believe Campbell; Toppy knew that she would refuse
+to listen to him if he tried to warn her against
+Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+The fashion in which he slammed the supper-dishes
+on the table brought a protest from Scotty.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dinna be so strong with the dishes, lad; they’re not
+iron,” said he.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You ‘tend to your cooking,” growled Toppy. “I’ll
+set this table.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell paused with a spoon in midair and gaped
+at him in astonishment. He opened his mouth to
+speak, but the black scowl on Toppy’s brow checked
+his tongue. Silently he turned to his cooking. He
+had seen that he was no longer boss in the room behind
+the shop.
+</p>
+<p>
+After supper Campbell brought forth a deck of
+cards and began to play solitaire. Toppy threw himself
+upon his bunk and lay in the darkness with his
+troublesome thoughts. An unmistakable step outside
+the door brought him to his feet, for he had an
+instinctive dislike to meeting Reivers save face to
+face and standing up. Reivers came in without speaking
+and shut the door behind him. He stood with
+his hand on the knob and looked over at Toppy and
+shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Treplin, how could you disappoint me so?” he
+asked mockingly. “After I had reposed such confidence
+in you, too! I’m sorely disappointed in you.
+I never looked for you to be a victim of the teachings
+of weak men and I find—ye gods! I find that
+you’re a humanitarian!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+By this and this only did Reivers indicate that he
+had knowledge of how Toppy had protected his men.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked steadily across the room at him, a
+grim smile on his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Did Bill Sheedy call me that?” he asked drily.
+“Shame on him if he did; I didn’t make him slip me
+the Torta boys’ money as a present.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ laugh rang instantly through the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So you’ve won Bill’s confidences already, have
+you?” he said without the slightest trace of shame
+or discomfiture. “Dear old Bill! He actually seemed
+to be under the impression that he had a title to that
+money—until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin,
+as a man with a trained if not an efficient mind,
+is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess the title to
+ninety-eight dollars?”
+</p>
+<p>
+He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and
+reached into the cupboard for Scotty’s whiskey. As
+he did so his eyes fell upon the cards which Scotty
+was placing upon the table, and for the first time
+Toppy saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness.
+Reivers stood, paused, for an instant, his eyes
+feasting upon the cards. It was only an instant, but
+it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the
+Snow-Burner’s passion for play. And Toppy exulted
+at this chance discovery of the vulnerable joint in
+Reivers’ armour; for Toppy—alas for his misspent
+youth!—was a master-warrior when a deck of cards
+was the field of battle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It’s none of my funeral, Reivers,” he said carelessly,
+strolling over to the table where Campbell
+went on playing, apparently oblivious to the conversation.
+“I don’t know anything about Sheedy. Of
+course, if you’re serious, the Torta boys are the only
+ones in camp who’ve got any right to the money.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>
+a drink. Campbell, with his back toward Reivers,
+paused with a card in his hand. Toppy yawned and
+dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell’s
+game.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But that’s none of my business,” he said as if
+dropping the subject. “There’s a chance for your
+black queen, Scotty.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch
+whiskey, drew up a third chair to the table and sat
+down across from Toppy. The latter apparently was
+absorbed in watching Campbell’s solitaire. Reivers
+took a long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and
+smiled pleasantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You turned loose an idea there, Treplin,” he said.
+“But can you make your premise stand argument?
+Are you sure that the Torta boys are the ones who
+have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what
+grounds do you give them the exclusive title to the
+money?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“It’s theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he
+did. That’s all I know about it,” said Toppy, scarcely
+raising his eyes from the cards.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?” persisted
+Reivers smilingly. “Merely because they had it in
+their possession! Isn’t that so? You don’t know
+how they came by it, but because they had it in their
+possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill
+Sheedy took it away from them. It was in his possession,
+so, following your line of logic, it was his—for
+a short while.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I took it from Bill. It’s in my possession now.
+Therefore, if your premise is sound, the money is
+mine. Why, Treplin, I’m really obliged to you for
+furnishing me such a clear title to my loot. It was—ah—beginning
+to trouble my conscience.” He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span>
+laughed suddenly, punctuating his laughter with a
+blow of his fist on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All rot, Treplin; all silly sophistry which weak
+men have built up to protect themselves from the
+strong! The infernal lie that because a man is in
+possession of a certain thing it is his to the exclusion
+of the rest of the world! Property-rights! I’ll tell
+you the truth—why this money is mine, why I’m the
+one who has the real title to it. I was able to take
+it, and I am able to keep it. There’s the natural law
+of property-rights, Treplin. What do you say to
+that?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Fine!” laughed Toppy, throwing up his hands in
+surrender. “You bowl me over, Reivers. The money
+is yours; and—” he glanced at the cards “—and if
+you and I should play a little game of poker, joker
+and deuces wild, and I should take it away from you,
+it would be mine; and there you are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The words had slipped out of him, apparently without
+any aim; but Toppy saw by the sudden glance
+which Reivers dropped to the cards that the gambling-hunger
+in the Snow-Burner had been awakened.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Joker and deuces wild,” he repeated as if fascinated.
+“Yes, that ought to help make a two-handed
+game fast.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The whole manner of the man seemed for the moment
+changed. For the first time since Toppy had
+met him he seemed to be seriously interested. Previously,
+when he played with the lives and bodies
+of men or devilled their minds with his wiles, his
+interest had never been deeper than that of a man
+who plays to keep himself from being bored. He was
+the master in all such affairs; they could furnish
+him at their best but an idle sort of interest. But
+not even the Snow-Burner was master of the inscrutable
+laws of Chance. Nor was he master of himself
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span>
+when cards were flipping before his eyes. Toppy had
+guessed right; Reivers had a weakness, and it was
+to be “card-crazy.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get over there on that other table with your solitaire,
+Campbell!” he ordered. He reached into Campbell’s
+liquor-cabinet and drew out a fresh pack of
+cards, which he tossed to Toppy. “You started something,
+Mr. Humanitarian,” he continued, clearing the
+table. “Open the deck and cut for deal. Then show
+me what you’ve got to stack up against this ninety-eight
+dollars.” And he slapped a wad of crumpled
+bills on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy nonchalantly reached into his pockets. Then
+he grinned. The two twenty-dollar bills which he had
+paid the agent back in Rail Head for the privilege
+of hiring out to Hell Camp were all the money he
+had with him. He was broke. He debated with himself
+a moment, then unhooked his costly watch from
+the chain and pushed it across to Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You can sell that for five hundred—if you win it,”
+he said. “I’ll play it even against your ninety-eight
+bucks. Give me forty-nine to start with. If you win
+them give me forty-nine more, and the watch is yours.
+Right?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Right,” said Reivers, keeping the watch and dividing
+his roll with Toppy. “Dollar jack-pots, table-stakes.
+Deal ’em up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy lost ten dollars on the first hand almost before
+he realised that the game had begun. He called
+Reivers’ bet and had three fours and nothing else
+in his hand. Reivers had two of the wild deuces
+and a king. Toppy shook his head, like a pugilist
+clearing his wits after a knockdown. Why had he
+called? He knew his three fours weren’t good. His
+card-sense had told him so. He had called against
+his judgment. Why?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly, like something tangible pressing against
+his brain, he felt Reivers’ will thrusting itself against
+his. Then he knew. That was why he had called.
+Reivers had willed that he do so, and, catching him off
+his guard, had had his way.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good work!” said Toppy, passing the cards. He
+was himself again; his wits had cleared. He allowed
+Reivers to take the next three pots in succession without
+a bet. Reivers looked at him puzzled. The fourth
+pot Toppy opened for five dollars and Reivers
+promptly raised him ten. After the draw Toppy bet
+a dollar, and Reivers again raised it to ten more.
+Toppy called. Reivers, caught bluffing without a single
+pair, stared as Toppy laid down his hand and
+revealed nothing but his original openers, a pair of
+aces. A frown passed over Reivers’ face. He peered
+sharply at Toppy from beneath his overhanging brows,
+but Toppy was raking in the pot as casually as if such
+play with a pair of aces was part of his system.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good work!” said Reivers, and gathered the cards
+to him with a jerk.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half a dozen hands later, on Reivers’ deal, Toppy
+picked up his hand and saw four kings.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll pass,” said he.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I open for five,” said Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take the money,” laughed Toppy carelessly throwing
+his hand into the discard. For an instant Reivers’
+eyes searched him with a look of surprise. The glance
+was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had suspected
+was true.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So he’s dealing ’em as he wants ’em!” thought
+Toppy. “All right. He’s brought it on himself.”
+</p>
+<p>
+An hour later Reivers arose from the table with
+a smile. The money had changed hands. Toppy was
+snapping his watch back on its chain, and stuffing the
+bills into his pocket.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your money now, Treplin,” laughed Reivers.
+“Until somebody takes it away from you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was a new note in his laughter. He had
+been beaten, and his irritation showed in his laughter
+and in the manner in which, after he had taken another
+big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway
+as he made to leave.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you
+have!” he said laughingly. “Too bad your luck ends
+there, isn’t it? What’s that paraphrase of the old
+saw? ‘Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.’
+Good night, Treplin.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he
+has a joke on the other fellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What did he mean by that?” asked Campbell,
+puzzled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I don’t know,” said Toppy. But he knew now that
+Tilly had told Reivers of his talk with Miss Pearson
+the first evening in camp, and that Reivers had saved
+it up against him.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—THE WAY OF THE SNOW-BURNER</h2>
+<p>
+In the morning, before the time for beginning the
+day’s work, Toppy went to the stockade; and with
+one of his English-speaking Slavs acting an interpreter
+hunted up the Torta brothers and returned to
+them the stolen money which he had won from Reivers.
+He did not consider it necessary to go into
+the full details of how the money came to be in
+his possession, or attempt to explain the prejudice
+of his kind against keeping stolen goods.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Just tell them that Sheedy gave up the money, and
+that it’s theirs again; and they’d better hide it in
+their shoes so they won’t lose it,” he directed the
+interpreter.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whereat the latter, a garrulous young man who
+had been telling the camp all about the wonderful
+new “bahss” in the quarry—a “bahss” who saved
+men’s lives—whenever he could get any one to listen,
+broke forth into a wonderful tale of how the money
+came to be returned, and of the wonderful “bahss”
+that stood before them, whom they should all take
+off their caps to and worship.
+</p>
+<p>
+For this was no ordinary man, this “bahss.” No,
+he was far above all other men. It was an honour
+to work under him. For instance, as to this money:
+the “bahss” had heard how the red-haired one—Sheedy—had
+stolen, how he oppressed many poor men and
+broke the noses of those who dared to stand up against
+him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+The “bahss” had the interests of poor men at heart.
+What had he done? He had struck the red-haired one
+such a mighty blow in the stomach that the red-haired
+one had flown high in the air, and alighting on the
+ground had been moved by the fear of death and disgorged
+the stolen money that his conscience might be
+easy.
+</p>
+<p>
+The story of how Toppy had propped up the roof
+of the stone quarry, and saved the limbs and possibly
+lives of his workmen; how he had driven the
+shotgun guard away, and how he had smitten Sheedy
+and laid him low before all men, had circulated
+through the camp by this time. Everybody knew that
+the new straw-boss, though fully as big and strong
+as the Snow-Burner himself, was a man who considered
+the men under him as something more than
+cattle and treated them accordingly. True, he drove
+men hard; but they went willingly for him, whereas
+under the Snow-Burner they hurried merely because
+of the chill fear that his eyes drove into their hearts.
+In short, Toppy was just such a boss as all men wished
+to work under—strong but just, firm but not inhuman.
+</p>
+<p>
+Even Sheedy was loyal to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He laid me out, all right,” he grumbled to a group
+of “white men,” “but, give him credit for it, he give
+me a chanct to get up me guard. There won’t be
+any breaking yer bones when yuh ain’t lookin’ from
+him. And he wouldn’t graft on yuh, either. He’s
+right. That other ——, he—he ain’t human.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The fact that he had been humane enough, and
+daring enough, to prop up the roof of the quarry
+had no effect on the “white men” toward developing
+a respect for Toppy. They despised the Slavs too
+thoroughly to be conscious of any brotherhood with
+them. But that he could put Bill Sheedy away with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>
+a single punch, that he could warn Bill to put up
+his guard and then knock him out with one blow, that
+was something to wring respect even from that hard-bitten
+crew.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Snow-Burner never had done anything like
+that. He had laid low the biggest men in camp,
+but it was usually with a kick or with a blow that
+was entirely unexpected. The Snow-Burner never
+warned any body. He smiled, threw them off their
+guard, then smote like a flash of lightning. He had
+whipped half a dozen men at once in a stand-up fight,
+but they had been poor Bohunks, fools who couldn’t
+fight unless they had knives in their hands. But to
+tell a seasoned bruiser like Bill, the best man with
+his fists in camp, to put up his hands and then beat
+him to the knockout punch—that was something that
+not even the Snow-Burner had attempted to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+That was taking a chance, that was; and the Snow-Burner
+never took chances. That was why these
+cruel-fierce “white men,” though they admired and
+applauded him for his dominance and his ruthlessness
+toward the Slavs, hated Reivers with a hatred that
+sprang from the Northern man’s instinctive liking for
+fair play in a fight. They began naturally to compare
+him with Toppy, who had played fair and yet
+won. And, naturally, because such were the standards
+they lived and died by, they began to predict
+that some day the Snow-Burner and Toppy must fight,
+and they hoped that they might be there to see the
+battle.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Toppy, this morning, as he came to the stockade,
+was in the position of something of a hero to
+most of the rough men who slouched past him in the
+gloom to their day’s work. He had felt it before, this
+hero-worship, and he recognised it again. Though the
+surroundings were vastly different and the men about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span>
+him of a strange breeding, the sense of it was much
+the same as that he had known at school when, a
+sweater thrown across his huge shoulders, he had
+ploughed his way through the groups of worshipping
+undergrads on to the gridiron. It was much the
+same here. Men looked up to him. They nudged
+one another as they passed, lowered their voices when
+he was near, studied him appraisingly. Toppy had
+felt it before, too often to be mistaken; and the youth
+in his veins responded warmly. The respect of these
+men was a harder thing to win than the other. He
+thought of how he had arrived in camp, shaky from
+Harvey Duncombe’s champagne, with no purpose in
+life, no standing among men who were doing men’s
+work. Grimly also he thought of how Miss Pearson,
+that first evening, had called him a “nice boy.” Would
+she call him that now, he wondered, if she could see
+how these rough, tired men looked up to him? Would
+Reivers treat him as a thing to experiment with after
+this?
+</p>
+<p>
+Thus it was a considerably elated Toppy, though
+not a big-headed one, who led his men out of the
+stockade, to the quarry—to the blow that Reivers
+had waiting for him there. His first hint that something
+was wrong was when the foremost men, whistling
+and tool-laden, made for the pit in the first grey
+light of day and paused with exclamations and curses
+at its very mouth. Others crowded around them.
+They looked within. Then, with fallen jaws, they
+turned and looked to the “bahss” for an explanation,
+for help.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shouldered his way through the press and
+stepped inside. Then he saw what had halted his
+men and made their faces turn white. To the last stick
+the shoring-timbers had been removed from the pit,
+and the roof, threatening and sharp-edged, hung ready
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span>
+to drop on the workmen below, as it had before Toppy
+had wrought a change.
+</p>
+<p>
+The daylight came creeping up the river and a wind
+began to blow. So still was it there before the pit-mouth
+that Toppy was conscious of these things as
+he stepped outside. The men were standing about
+with their wheelbarrows and tools in their hands.
+They looked to him. His was the mind and will to
+determine what they should do. They depended upon
+him; they trusted him; they would obey his word
+confidently.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
+He wanted to take off his cap, to bare his
+head to the chill morning wind, to draw his hand
+across his eyes, to do something to ease himself and
+gather his wits. He did none of these things. The
+instinct of leadership arose strong within him. He
+could not show these men who looked up to him as
+their unquestioned leader that he had been dealt a blow
+that had taken the mastery from him.
+</p>
+<p>
+For Toppy, in that agonised second when he glanced
+up at the unsupported roof and knew what those loose
+rocks meant to any men working beneath, realised
+that he could not drive his men in there to certain
+injury for many, possibly death for some. It wasn’t
+in him. He wasn’t bred that way. The unfeeling
+brute had been removed from his big body and spirit
+by generations of men and women who had played
+fair with inferiors, and by a lifetime of training and
+education.
+</p>
+<p>
+He understood plainly the significance of the thing.
+Reivers had done it; no one else would have dared.
+He had lifted Toppy up to a tiny elevation above the
+other men in camp; now he was knocking him down.
+It was another way for Reivers to show his mastery.
+The men who had begun to look up to Toppy would
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span>
+now see how easily the Snow-Burner could show himself
+his superior. Miss Pearson would hear of it.
+He would appear in the light of a “nice boy” whom
+the Snow-Burner had played with.
+</p>
+<p>
+These thoughts ran through Toppy’s mind as he
+stood outside the pit, with his white-faced men looking
+up to him, and groped for a way out of his dilemma.
+Within he was sickened with the sense of a
+catastrophe; outside he remained calm and confident
+to the eye. He stepped farther out, to where he could
+see the end of the dam where he had secured the props
+for the roof. It was as he had expected; the big pile
+of timbers that had lain there was gone to the last
+stick. He turned slowly back, and then in the grey
+light of coming day he looked into the playfully smiling
+face of Reivers, who had emerged, it seemed,
+from nowhere.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Looking for your humanitarian props, Treplin?”
+laughed the Snow-Burner. “Oh, they’re gone; they’re
+valuable; they served a purpose which nothing else
+would fill—quite so conveniently. I used them for a
+corduroy road in the swamp. Between men and timbers,
+Treplin, always save your timbers.” His manner
+changed like a flash to one hurried and business-like.
+“What’re you waiting for?” he snarled. “Why
+don’t you get ’em in there? Mean to say you’re wasting
+company money because one of these cattle might
+get a broken back?”
+</p>
+<p>
+They looked each other full in the eyes, but Toppy
+knew that for the time being Reivers had the whiphand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I mean to say just that,” he said evenly. “I’m not
+sending any men in there until I get that roof propped
+up again.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bah!” Reivers’ disgust was genuine. “I thought
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>
+you were a man; I find you’re a suit of clothes full
+of emotions, like all the rest!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He seemed to drive away his anger by sheer will-force
+and bring the cold, sneering smile back to his
+lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So we’re up against a situation that’s too strong
+for us, are we, Mr. Humanitarian?” he laughed. “In
+spite of our developed intelligence, we lay down cold
+in the face of a little proposition like this! Good-bye
+to our dreams of learning how to handle men!
+It isn’t in us to do it; we’re a weak sister.”
+</p>
+<p>
+His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all
+his changes. Toppy and his aspirations as a leader—that
+was another incident of the day’s work that
+was over and done with.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin,” he said
+quietly. “You’re not responsible for your limitations.
+Scotty says you make a pretty fair helper.
+Be consoled. He’s waiting for you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with
+the hot blood rushing in his throat, but helpless as
+he was, swung away from the pit without a word.
+As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun
+guard had appeared and taken his position on the little
+rise where his gun bore slantwise on the huddled
+men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of
+sight of the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples
+throbbing with rage, but the cool section of his
+mind urged him away from the pit in silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle.
+It was the ankle that made him accept without return
+the shame which Reivers had put upon him. The
+canny sense within him continued to whisper that
+until the ankle was sound he must bide his time.
+Reivers and he were too nearly a pair to give him
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span>
+the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance
+at even the slightest disadvantage.
+</p>
+<p>
+Choking back as well as he could the anger that
+welled up within him, he made his way swiftly to
+the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the
+anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy
+tread behind him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner promised he’d send you here,
+and——Losh, mon!” he gasped as he turned around
+and saw Toppy’s face. “What’s come o’er ye? You
+look like you’re ripe for murder.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“There’ll probably be murder done in this camp before
+the day’s over, but I won’t do it,” replied Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting
+work he snapped out the story of the situation at
+the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his hammer, grew
+grim of lips and eyes as he listened.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you
+had ye lost at poker last night,” he said slowly. “He’s
+taking revenge. But they will put out his light for
+him. Human flesh and blood won’t stand it. The
+Snow-Burner goes too far. He’ll——Hark! Good
+Heavens! Hear that!”
+</p>
+<p>
+For a moment they stood near the open doorway
+of the shop staring at one another in horrified, mute
+questioning. The crisp stillness of the morning rang
+and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The
+sound came from the direction of the quarry. Across
+the street they heard the door of the office-building
+open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her light
+hair flying about her head, came running like a deer
+to the door of the shop.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!” she called tremblingly,
+peering inside. Then she saw Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh!” she gasped. She started back a little. There
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span>
+were surprise and relief in her exclamation, in her
+eyes, in her movement.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I was afraid—I thought maybe——” She drew
+away from the door in confusion. “I only wanted
+to know—to know—what that noise was.”
+</p>
+<p>
+But Toppy had stepped outside the shop and followed
+closely after her.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What did you think it was, Miss Pearson?” he
+asked. “What were you afraid of when you heard
+that shot? That something had happened between
+Reivers and myself?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I—I meant to warn you,” she said, greatly flustered.
+“Tilly told me all about—a lot of things last
+night. She told me that she had told Reivers all she
+heard you say to me that first night here, and that
+he—Mr. Reivers, she said, was your enemy, and that
+he would—would surely hurt you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I didn’t want to see you get hurt, because I felt
+it was because of me that you came here. I—I don’t
+want any one hurt because of me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s all?” he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+She looked surprised.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why, yes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy nodded curtly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then Tilly told you that Mr. Reivers had a habit
+of hurting people?”
+</p>
+<p>
+At this the red in her cheeks rose to a flush. Her
+blue eyes looked at him waveringly, then dropped to
+the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It isn’t true! It can’t be true!” she stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Did Tilly tell you—about herself?” he persisted
+mercilessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+The next instant he wished the words unsaid, for
+she shrank as if he had struck her. She looked very
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span>
+small just then. Her proud, self-reliant bearing was
+gone. She was very much all alone.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes.” The word was scarcely more than a whisper
+and she did not look up. “But it—it can not be
+so; I know it can not.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was no student of feminine psychology, but
+he saw plainly that just then she was a woman who
+did not wish to believe, therefore would not believe,
+anything ill of the man who had fascinated her. He
+saw that Reivers had fascinated her; that in spite
+of herself she was drawn toward him, dominated by
+him. Her mind told her that what she had heard of
+the man was true, but her heart refused to let her
+believe. Toppy saw that she was very unhappy and
+troubled, and unselfishly he forgot himself and his
+enmity toward Reivers in a desire to help her.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Miss Pearson!—Miss Pearson!” he cried eagerly.
+“Is there anything I can do for you—anything in
+the world?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” she said slowly. “Tell me that it isn’t so—what
+Mr. Campbell and Tilly have said about Mr.
+Reivers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I——” He was about to say that he could do
+nothing of the sort, but something made him halt.
+“Has Reivers broken his word to you—about leaving
+you alone?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, no! He’s—he’s left me alone. He’s scarcely
+spoken to me half a dozen times.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked down at her for several seconds.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But you’ve begun to care for Reivers, haven’t
+you?” he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl looked up at him uncertainly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know! I don’t seem
+to have any will of my own toward him. I seem
+to see him as a different man. I know I shouldn’t;
+but I can’t help it, I can help it! He—he looks at me,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span>
+and I feel as if—as if—” her voice died down to a
+horrified whisper—“I were nothing, and his wishes
+were the only things in the world.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy bowed his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then I guess there’s nothing for me to say.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t!” she cried, stretching out her hand to restrain
+him as he turned away. “Don’t leave me—like
+that. You’re so rude to me lately. I feel so
+terribly alone when you—aren’t nice to me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What difference can I make?” he said bitterly.
+“I’m not Reivers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She looked up at him again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh!” she cried suddenly. “Won’t you help me,
+Mr. Treplin? Can’t you help me?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Help you?” gasped Toppy. “May I? Can I?
+What can I do?”
+</p>
+<p>
+He leaned toward her eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What can I do” he repeated.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, I don’t know!” she murmured in anguish.
+“But if you—if you leave me—Oh! What was that?”
+</p>
+<p>
+From the direction of the quarry had come a great
+scream of terror, as if many men suddenly had cried
+out in fear of their lives. Then, almost ere the echoes
+had died away, came another sound, of more sinister
+significance to Toppy. There was a sudden low rumble;
+the earth under their feet trembled; then the
+noise of a crash and a thud. Then it was still again.
+</p>
+<p>
+A chill seemed to pass over the entire camp. Men
+began running toward the quarry with swift steps,
+their faces showing that they dreaded what they expected
+to see. Toppy and Campbell looked silently
+at one another.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go into the office,” he said quietly to the girl.
+“Come on, Scotty; that roof’s caved in.” And without
+another word they ran swiftly toward the quarry.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span>
+As they reached the river-bank they heard Reivers’
+voice quietly issuing orders.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You guards pick those two fellows up and carry
+them to their bunks. You scum that’s left, pick up
+your tools and dig into that fallen rock. Hustle now!
+Get right back to work!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The first thing that Toppy saw as he turned the
+shoulder of the ledge was that two of the older
+Slavs were lying groaning on the ground to one side
+of where the pit mouth had been. Then he saw what
+was left of the pit. The entire side of the ledge had
+caved down, and where the pit had been was only a
+jumbled pile of jagged rock. Reivers stood in his
+old position before the pile. The hawk-nosed shotgun
+guard stood up on the little rise, his weapon
+ready. The remaining workmen were huddled together
+before the pile of fallen stone. The terror in their
+faces was unspeakable. They were like lost, driven
+cattle facing the butcher’s hammer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Grab those tools there! Get at it! The rock’s
+right in front of you now! Get busy!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ voice in no way admitted that anything
+startling had occurred. He glared at the cowering men,
+and in terror they began hastily to resume their interrupted
+work, filling their wheelbarrows from the pile
+of stone before them. Reivers turned toward Toppy
+who had bent over the injured men. “Hello, Dr.
+Treplin,” he laughed lightly. “A couple of jobs there
+for you to experiment on. Get ’em out of here—to
+their bunks; they’re in the way. Patch ’em up if you
+can. If you can’t they’re not much loss, anyhow.
+They’re rather older than I like ’em.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The last words came carelessly over his shoulder as
+he turned back toward the men who were toiling at
+the rock. A string of curses rolled coldly from his lips.
+They leaped to obey him. He smiled contemptuously.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was relieved to see that the two men on the
+ground were apparently not fatally hurt. With the aid
+of Campbell and two guards who had run up he
+hurried to have the men placed in their bunks in the
+stockade. One of the guards produced a surgeon’s
+kit. Toppy rolled up his sleeves. It wasn’t as bad as
+he had feared it would be, apparently; only two injured,
+where he had looked for some surely to be killed.
+One of the men was growing faint from loss of blood
+from a wound in his right leg. Toppy, turning his
+attention to him first, swiftly slit open the trousers-leg
+and bared the injured limb.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What—what the devil?” he cried aghast. The
+calf of the man’s leg was half torn away, and from
+knee to ankle the flesh was sprinkled with buckshot-holes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“They shot you?” he asked as he fashioned a tourniquet.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, bahass. Snow-Burner say, ‘Get t’ ‘ell in
+there.’ Rocks fall; we no go in. Snow-Burner hold
+up hand. Man with gun shoot. I fall. Other men
+go in. Pretty soon rocks fall. Other men come out.
+He shoot me. I no do anything; he shoot me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy choked back the curse that rose to his lips,
+dressed the man’s wound to the best of his slight ability,
+and turned to the other, who had been caught in
+the cave-in of the quarry-roof. His right leg and arm
+were broken, and the side was crushed in a way that
+suggested broken ribs. Toppy filled a hypodermic
+syringe and went to work to make the two as comfortable
+as he knew how. That was all he could pretend
+to do. Yet when he left the stockade it was with a
+feeling of relief that he looked back over the morning.
+The worst had happened; the danger to the men
+was over; and, so far as Toppy knew, the consequences
+were represented in the two men whom he had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span>
+treated and who, so far as he could see, were sure to
+live. It hadn’t turned out as badly as he was afraid
+it would.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he passed the carpenter-shop he saw the “wood-butcher”
+sawing two boards to make a cover for a
+long, narrow box. Toppy looked at him idly, trying
+to think of what such a box could be used for around
+the camp. It was too narrow for its length to be of
+ordinary use as a box.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What are you making there?” asked Toppy carelessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+The “wood-butcher” looked up from his sawing.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Didn’t you ever see a logging-camp coffin?” he
+asked. “We always keep a few ready. This one is
+for that Bohunk that’s down there under the rocks.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Under the rocks!” cried Toppy. “You don’t mean
+to say there was anybody under that cave-in!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is yet,” was the laconic reply. “One of ’em was
+caught ’way inside. Whole roof on top of him. Won’t
+find him till the pit’s emptied.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy struggled a moment to speak quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Which one was it, do you know?” he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, it was that old brown-complected fellow,”
+said the carpenter. “That old Bohunk guy with the
+big rings in his ears.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers came to the shop at his customary time in
+the evening, nothing in his manner containing a hint
+that anything unusual had happened during the day.
+He found a solemn and silent pair, for Campbell had
+sought relief from the day’s tragedy in his customary
+manner and sat in the light of the student-lamp steadily
+reading his Bible, while Toppy, in a dark corner, sat
+with his great shoulders hunched forward, his folded
+hands before him, and stared at the floor. Reivers
+paused in the doorway, his cold smile broadening as
+he surveyed the pair.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Poker to-night—doctor?” he said softly, and the
+slur in his tones was like blasphemy toward all that
+men hold sacred.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, by ——, no!” growled Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Laughing lightly, Reivers closed the door and came
+across the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What? Aren’t you going to give me my revenge—doctor?”
+The manner in which he accented “doctor”
+was worse than an open insult.
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Campbell peered over his thick glasses.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The sword of judgment is sharpening for you,
+Mr. Reivers,” he said solemnly. “You ha’ this day
+sealed your own doom. A life for a life; and you
+have taken a life to-day unnecessarily. It is the holy
+law; you will pay. It is so written.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, yes, yes!” laughed Reivers in great amusement.
+“But you’ve said that so many times before
+in just that same way, Scotty. Can’t you evolve a
+new idea? Or at least sing it in a different key?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The old Scot looked at him without wavering or
+changing his expression.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You are the smartest man I have ever known, Mr.
+Reivers, and the domdest fool,” he said in the same
+tone. “Do you fancy yourself more than mortal?
+Losh, man! A knife in the bowels, or a bullet or ax
+in the head will as readily make you a bit of poor clay
+as you’ve this day made yon poor old Bohunk.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers listened courteously to the end, waiting
+even a moment to be sure that Campbell had had his
+say.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you—doctor?” he said turning to Toppy.
+“What melancholy thoughts have you to utter?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, come, Treplin!” said Reivers lightly. “Surely
+you’re not letting a little thing like that quarry-incident
+give you a bad evening? Where’s your philosophy,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span>
+man? Consider the thing intelligently instead of
+sentimentally. There was so much rock to go into that
+dam in a day—and incidentally to-day finished the
+job. That was a useful, necessary work.
+</p>
+<p>
+“For that old man to continue in this life was not
+useful or necessary. He was far down in the order
+of human development; centuries below you and me.
+Do you think it made the slightest difference whether
+he returned to the old cosmic mud whence he came,
+and from which he had not come far, in to-day’s
+little cave-in, or in a dirty bed, say ten years from
+now?
+</p>
+<p>
+“He accomplished a tiny speck of useful work,
+through my direction. He has gone, as the wood will
+soon be gone that is heating that stove. There was no
+spirit there; only a body that has ceased to stand upright.
+And you grow moody over it! Well, well!
+I’m more and more disappointed in you—doctor.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy said nothing. He was biding his time.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—THE SCREWS TIGHTEN</h2>
+<p>
+That night came the heavy snow for which the
+loggers had been waiting, and a rush of activity
+followed in Hell Camp. The logs which had lain in
+the woods for want of sleighing now were accessible.
+Following the snow came hard, freezing nights, and
+the main ice-roads which Reivers had driven into the
+timber for miles became solid beds of ice over which
+a team could haul log loads to the extent of a carload
+weight. It was ideal logging-weather, and the big
+camp began to hum.
+</p>
+<p>
+The mastery of Reivers once more showed itself in
+the way in which he drove his great crew at top speed
+and beyond. The feeling against him on the part of
+the men had risen to silent, tight-lipped heat as the
+news went around of how the old Magyar with the
+ear-rings had met his death. Each man in camp knew
+that he might have been in the old man’s shoes; each
+knew that Reivers’ anger might fall on him next. In
+the total of a hundred and fifty men in camp there was
+probably not one who did not curse Reivers and rage
+against his rule, and there were few who, if the opportunity
+had offered, would not cheerfully have taken
+his life.
+</p>
+<p>
+The feeling against him had unified itself. Before,
+the men had been split into various groups on the
+subject of the boss. They remained divided now, but
+on one thing they were unanimous: the Snow-Burner
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span>
+had gone too far to bear. Men sat on the bunk-edges
+in the stockade and cursed as they thought of the
+boss and the shotgun guards that rendered them helpless.
+Reivers permitted no firearms of any kind in
+camp save those that were carried by his gunmen.
+</p>
+<p>
+The gunmen when not on guard kept to their quarters,
+in the building just outside of the stockade gate,
+where Reivers also lived. When armed, they were
+ordered to permit no man to approach nearer than
+ten feet to them—this to prevent a possible rushing
+and wresting the weapons from their hands. So
+long as the guards were there in possession of their
+shotguns the men knew that they were helpless. Driven
+to desperation now, they prayed for the chance to get
+those guns into their own hands. After that they
+promised themselves that the score of brutality would
+be made even.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came the time for rush work, and under
+the lash of Reivers’ will the outraged men, carried
+off their feet, were driven with a ferocity that told
+how completely Reivers ignored the spirit of revolt
+which he knew was fomenting against him. He quit
+playing with them, as he expressed it; he began to
+drive.
+</p>
+<p>
+Long before daylight began to grey the sky above
+the eastern timber-line the men were out at their posts,
+waiting for sufficient light to begin the day’s work.
+Once the work began it went ahead with a fury that
+seemed to carry all men with it. Reivers was everywhere
+that a man dared to pause for a moment to
+shirk his job. He used his hands now, for a broken
+leg or rib laid a man up, and he had use for the present
+for every man he could muster. He scarcely
+looked at the men he hit, breaking their faces with
+a sudden, treacherous blow, cursing them coldly until,
+despite their injuries, they leaped at their work, then
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span>
+whirling away to fall upon some other luckless one
+elsewhere.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was a fury, a merciless elemental force, with
+no consideration for the strength and endurance of
+men; sparing no one any more than he spared himself,
+and rushing his whole force along at top speed
+by sheer power of the spirit of leadership that possessed
+him. Men ceased for the time being to growl
+and pray that the Snow-Burner would get his just
+due. They had no thought nor energies for anything
+but keeping pace in the whirlwind rush of work
+through which the Snow-Burner drove them.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the blacksmith-shop the same condition prevailed
+as elsewhere in the camp. The extra hurry
+of the work in the timber meant extra accidents,
+which meant breakages. There were chain-links to
+be forged and fitted to broken chains; sharp two-inch
+calks to be driven into the horses’ shoes, peaveys and
+cant-hooks to be repaired. Besides the regular blacksmith-work
+of the camp, which was quite sufficient to
+keep Campbell and one helper comfortably employed,
+there was now added each day a bulk of extra work
+due to the strain under which men, horses and tools
+were working.
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Campbell, grimly resolute that Reivers should
+have no excuse to fall foul of him, drove himself
+and his helper at a speed second only to that with
+which he had so roughly greeted Toppy to the rough
+world of bodily labour. But the Toppy who now hammered
+and toiled at Campbell’s side was a different
+man from the champagne-softened youth who had
+come into camp a little while before. The puffiness
+was gone from under his eyes, the looseness from his
+lips and the fat from around the middle. Through
+his veins the blood now surged with no taint of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span>
+cumbering poison; his tissues tingled with life and healthiness.
+</p>
+<p>
+Day by day he did his share and more in the shop-work,
+and instead of the old feeling of fatigue, which
+before had followed any prolonged exertion, felt his
+muscles spring with hardness and new life at each
+demand made upon them. The old joy of a strong
+man in his strength came back in him. Stripped to
+the waist he stretched himself and filled his great lungs
+with deep drafts, his arms like beams stretched out
+and above his head. Under the clean skin, rosy and
+moist from exertion, the muscles bunched and relaxed,
+tautened instantly to iron hardness or rippled softly
+as they were called upon, in the perfect co-ordination
+which results in great athletes. Old Campbell,
+similarly stripped, stared at the marvel of a giant’s
+perfect torso, beside which his own work-wrought
+body was ugly in its unequal development.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Losh, man! But you’re full grown!” he growled
+in admiration. “I’ve seen but one man who could
+strip anywhere near to you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Who was he?” asked Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Day by day Toppy hammered and laboured at
+Campbell’s side, holding his end up against the grim
+old smith, and day by day he felt his muscles growing
+toward that iron condition in which there is no tiring.
+Presently, to Scotty’s vexation, he was doing more
+than his share, ending the day with a laugh and waking
+up in the morning as fresh as if he had not taxed
+his energies the day before.
+</p>
+<p>
+At first he continued to favour his injured ankle,
+lest a sudden strain delay its recovery. Each night
+he massaged and bandaged it scientifically. Later on,
+when he felt that it was stronger, he began to exercise
+it, slowly raising and lowering himself on the balls
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>
+of his feet. In a couple of weeks the old spring and
+strength had largely come back, and Campbell snorted
+in disgust at the antics indulged in by his helper when
+the day’s work was done.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Skipping a rope one, twa hundred times! What
+brand o’ silliness do ye call that?” he grumbled. “Ha’
+ye nothing useful to do wi’ them long legs of yourn,
+that you have to make a jumping-jack out o’ yourself?”
+</p>
+<p>
+At which Toppy smiled grimly and continued his
+training.
+</p>
+<p>
+The rush of work had its compensations. Reivers,
+driving his force like mad, had no time to waste either
+in bantering Toppy and Campbell in the evening or in
+paying attention to Miss Pearson. All the power that
+was in the Snow-Burner was concentrated upon the
+problem of getting out every stick of timber possible
+while the favourable weather continued. He spent
+most of his time in the timber up-river where the
+heaviest logging was going on.
+</p>
+<p>
+By day he raged in the thick of the men with only
+one thought or aim—to get out the logs as fast as
+human and horse-power could do it. At night the
+road-crews, repairing with pick and shovel and sprinkling-tanks
+the wear and tear of the day’s hauling,
+worked under Reivers’ compelling eyes. All night
+long the sprinkling-tanks went up and down the ice-coated
+roads, and the drivers, freezing on the seats,
+were afraid to stop or nod, not knowing when the
+Snow-Burner might step out from the shadows and
+catch them in the act.
+</p>
+<p>
+The number of accidents, always too plentiful in
+logging-camps, multiplied, but Reivers permitted nothing
+short of broken bones to send a man to his bunk.
+Toppy, besides his work in the shop, cared as best he
+could for the disabled. Reivers had no time to waste
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span>
+that way now. The two men hurt at the quarry were
+recovering rapidly. One day a tall, lean “white man,”
+a Yankee top-loader, came hobbling out of the woods
+with his foot dangling at the ankle, and mumbling
+curses through a smashed jaw.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How did you get this?” asked Toppy, as he dressed
+the cruelly crushed foot.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pinched between two logs,” mumbled the man.
+“They let one come down the skids when I wasn’t
+lookin’. No fault of mine; I didn’t have time to jump.
+And then, when I’m standin’ there leanin’ against a
+tree, that devil Reivers comes up and hands me this.”
+He pointed to his cracked jaw. “He’ll teach me to get
+myself hurt, he says. ——! That ain’t no man; he’s
+a devil! By ——! I know what I’d ruther have
+than the wages comin’ to me, and that’s a rifle with one
+good cattridge in it and that —— standin’ afore me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet that evening, when Reivers came to the top-loader’s
+bunk and demanded how long he expected to
+lie there eating his head off, the man cringed and whimpered
+that he would be back on the job as soon as his
+foot was fit to stand on. In Reivers’ presence the
+men were afraid to call their thoughts their own, but
+behind his back the mumblings and grumblings of
+hatred were growing to a volume which inevitably soon
+must break out in the hell-yelp of a mob ripe for
+murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers knew it better than any man in camp. To
+indicate how it affected him he turned the screws on
+tighter than ever. Once, at least, “they had him dead,”
+as they admitted, when he stood ankle-deep in the
+river with the saw-logs thundering over the rollways
+to the brink of the bluff above his head. One cunning
+twist of a peavey would have sent a dozen logs tumbling
+over the brink on his head. Reivers sensed his
+danger and looked up. He smiled. Then he turned
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span>
+and deliberately stood with his back to the men. And
+no man dared to give his peavey that one cunning twist.
+</p>
+<p>
+During these strenuous days Toppy tried in vain to
+muster up sufficient courage to reopen the conversation
+with Miss Pearson which had been so suddenly interrupted
+by the cave-in at the quarry. He saw her
+every day. She had changed greatly from the high-spirited,
+self-reliant girl who had stood on the steps
+of the hotel back at Rail Head and told the whole
+world by her manner that she was accustomed and able
+to take care of herself. A stronger will than hers
+had entered her scheme of life.
+</p>
+<p>
+Although she knew now that Reivers had tricked
+her into coming to Hell Camp because he was confident
+of winning her, the knowledge made no difference.
+The will of the man dominated and fascinated
+her. She feared him, yet she was drawn toward him
+despite her struggles. She fought hard against the inclination
+to yield to the stronger will, to let her feelings
+make her his willing slave, as she knew he wished.
+The pain of the struggle shone in her eyes. Her
+cheeks lost their bloom; there were lines about the
+little mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy saw it, but an unwonted shyness had come
+upon him. He could no longer speak to her with
+the frank friendliness of their previous conversations.
+Something which he could not place had, he felt, set
+them apart.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the fascinations
+which Reivers had for her. Reivers was his enemy.
+They had been enemies from the moment when they
+first had measured each other eye to eye. He felt
+that he had one aim in life now, and one only; that was
+to prove to himself and to Reivers that Reivers was
+not his master.
+</p>
+<p>
+Beyond that he had no plans. He knew that this
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span>
+meant a grapple which must end with one of them
+broken and helpless. The unfortunate one might be
+himself. In that case there would be no need to
+think of the future, and it would be just as well not
+to have spoken any more with the girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+It might be Reivers. Then he would be guilty in her
+eyes of having injured the man for whom the girl now
+obviously had feelings which Toppy could construe in
+but one way. She cared for Reivers, in spite of herself;
+and she would not be inclined to friendliness
+toward the man who had conquered him, if conquered
+he should be.
+</p>
+<p>
+The more Toppy thought it over the less enviable,
+to his notion, became his standing with the girl. He
+ended by resolutely determining to put her out of
+his thoughts. After all, he was no girl’s man. He
+had no business trying to be. For the present he saw
+one task laid out before him as inevitable as a revealed
+fate—to prove himself with Reivers, to get to grips
+with the cold-blooded master-man who had made him
+feel, with every man in camp, that the place veritably
+was a Hell Camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ brutal dominance lay like a tangible weight
+upon Toppy’s spirit. He longed for only one thing—for
+the opportunity to stand up eye to eye with him
+and learn who was the better man. Beyond that
+he did not see, nor care. He had given up any thought
+that the girl might ever care for him.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—TILLY’S WARNING</h2>
+<p>
+November passed, and the first half of December.
+The shortest days of the year were approaching,
+and still the cold, crisp weather, ideal for
+logging, continued without a break. Hell Camp continued
+to hum with its abnormal activity. A thaw
+which would spoil the sleighing and ice-roads for the
+time being was long over-due. With the coming of
+the thaw would come a temporary lull in the work of
+the camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+The men prayed for the thaw; Reivers asked that
+the cold weather continue. It had continued now
+longer than he had expected or hoped, and the output
+of the camp already was double that of what would
+have been successful logging at that season. But
+Reivers was not satisfied. The record that he was
+setting served only to spur his ambition to desperation.
+</p>
+<p>
+The longer the cold spell hung on the harder he
+drove. Each day, as he looked at the low, grey sky
+and saw that there were no signs of a break-up, he
+turned to and set the pace a little faster than the day
+before. The madness of achievement, the passion to
+use his powers to accomplish the impossible, the characteristics
+which had won him the name of Snow-Burner,
+were in possession. He was doing the impossible;
+he was accomplishing what no other man could
+do, what all men said was impossible; and the feat only
+created a hunger to do more.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+The men were past grumbling now, too tired of
+body and too crushed of mind to give expression to
+their feelings. So long as the rush of work continued
+they were as harmless as harnessed and driven cattle,
+incapable of anything more than keeping step in the
+mad march that the Snow-Burner was leading. But
+all men knew that with the coming of a thaw and the
+cessation of work would come an explosion of the
+murderous hatred which Reivers’ tactics had driven
+into the hearts of the men. Now and then a man,
+driven to a state of desperation which excluded the
+possibility of fear, stopped and rebelled. One day a
+young swamper, a gangling lad of twenty, raging and
+weeping, threw himself upon Reivers like a cat upon a
+bear. Reivers, with a laugh, thrust him off and kicked
+him out of the way. Another time a huge Slav sprang
+at him with his razor-edged ax up-raised, and, quailing
+before Reivers’ calm look, hurled the ax away
+with a scream and ran blindly away into the trackless
+woods. Three days later, starving and with frozen
+hands and feet, he came stumbling up to the stockade
+and fell in a lump.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Feed him up,” ordered Reivers, smiling. “I’ve
+got a little use for him when he’s fixed up so he can
+feel. You see, Treplin,” he continued to Toppy, who
+had been called to bring the man back to life, “I’m not
+all cruelty. When I want to save a man to amuse myself
+with I’m almost as much of a humanitarian as
+you are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He hurried on his way, but before he was out of
+hearing he flung back——
+</p>
+<p>
+“You remember how carefully I had Tilly nurse you,
+don’t you—doctor?”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was only the guards that Reivers did not make
+enemies of. He knew that he had need of their
+loyalty. At night the “white men” sat on the edges
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span>
+of their bunks and tried to concoct feasible schemes
+for securing possession of the shotguns of the guards.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the morning of the shortest day of the year
+Toppy heard a scratching sound at the window near
+his bunk and sprang up. It was still pitch dark, long
+before any one should be stirring around camp save
+the cook and cookees.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Who’s there?” demanded Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Me. Want talk um with you,” came the low response
+from without. “You no come out. No make
+noise. Hear through window. You can hear um
+when I talk huh?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tilly!” gasped Toppy. “What’s up?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You hear um what I talk?” asked the squaw
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, yes; I can hear you. What is it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You like um li’l Miss Pearson, huh?” said Tilly
+bluntly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What?” Toppy’s heart was pounding with sudden
+excitement. “What—what’s up, Tilly? There
+hasn’t anything happened to Miss Pearson, has there?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Uh! You like um Miss Pearson? Tell um Tilly
+straight or Tilly go ’way and no talk um more with
+you. You like her? Huh?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes,” said Toppy breathlessly, after a long pause.
+“Yes, I like her. What is it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You no like see um Miss Pearson get hurt?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, no; of course not. Who’s going to hurt her?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” said Tilly. “Tilly tell you this
+before she go ’way. Tilly going ’way now. Tilly going
+’way far off to father’s tepee. Snow-Burner tell
+um me go. Snow-Burner tell um me go last night.
+Snow-Burner say he no want Tilly stay in camp
+longer. Tilly know why Snow-Burner no want her
+stay in camp. Snow-Burner through with Tilly. Snow-Burner
+now want um Miss Pearson. So.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tilly! Hold on!” She had already turned away,
+but she halted at his voice and came close to the window.
+“What is this? Are you going away at once—because
+the Snow-Burner says so?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The squaw nodded, stoically submissive.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner say ‘go’; Tilly go,” she said. “Snow-Burner
+say go before any one see um me this morning.
+I go now. Must go; Snow-Burner say so.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And Miss Pearson?” whispered Toppy frantically.
+“Did he say anything about her?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Tilly nodded heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tell um me long ’go. Tell um me before Miss
+Pearson come. Tell um me he going marry Miss
+Pearson for um Christmas present. Christmas Day
+come soon now. Snow-Burner no want Tilly here
+then. Send Tilly ’way.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The breath seemed to leave Toppy’s body for an
+instant. He swayed and caught at the window-frame.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Marry her—Christmas Day?” he whispered, horrified.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes. He no tell um Miss Pearson yet. He tell me
+no tell um her, no tell um anybody. I tell you. Now
+go.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Before Toppy had sufficiently recovered his wits
+to speak again he heard the crunch of her moccasins
+on the snow dying away in the darkness as the cast-off
+squaw stolidly started on her journey into the
+woods.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tilly!” called Toppy desperately, but there was no
+answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s matter?” murmured Campbell, disturbed
+in his deep slumber, and falling to sleep again before
+he received a reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy stood for a long time with his face held
+close to the window through which he had heard Tilly’s
+startling news. The shock had numbed him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>
+Although he had been prepared to expect anything of
+Reivers, he now realised that this was something more
+than he had thought possible even from him. The
+Snow-Burner—marry Miss Pearson—for a Christmas
+present—Christmas Day! He seemed to hear Tilly
+repeating the words over and over again. And Reivers
+had not even so much as told Miss Pearson of what
+he intended to do. He had not even told her that
+he intended to marry her. So Tilly said, and Tilly
+knew. What did Reivers intend to do then? How
+did he know he was going to marry her? How did
+he know she would have him?
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy shivered a little as his wits began to work
+more clearly, and the full significance of the situation
+began to grow clear to him. He understood now.
+Reivers had good reason for making his plans so confidently.
+He had studied the girl until he had seen
+that his will had dominated hers; that though she
+might not love him, might even fear him, she had not
+the will-power against him to say nay to his wishes.
+</p>
+<p>
+He knew that she was helplessly fascinated, that
+she was his for the taking. He had been too busy to
+take her until now; the serious duties of his position
+had allowed no time for dalliance. So the girl had
+been safe and unmolested—until now! And now
+Reivers was secretly preparing to make her his own!
+</p>
+<p>
+A sudden thought struck Toppy, and he tiptoed to
+the door and looked out. Instead of the crisp coldness
+of recent mornings there was a warm mugginess
+in the air; and Toppy, bending down, placed his hand
+on the snow and felt that it had begun to soften. The
+thaw had come.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I thought so,” he said to himself. “The work
+will break up now, and he’s going to amuse himself.
+Well, he made a mistake when he told Tilly. She’s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span>
+been civilised just enough to make her capable of jealousy.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He went back to his bunk and dressed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What are you stirring around so early for?”
+grumbled Campbell. “Dinna ye get work enough during
+the day, to be getting up in the dark?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The thaw’s come,” said Toppy, throwing on his
+cap. “There’ll be something doing besides work now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He went out into the dark morning, crossed the
+road and softly tried the door to the office. He felt
+much better when he had assured himself that the door
+was securely locked on the inside. Then he returned
+to the shop and waited for the daylight to appear.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—“CANNY BY NATURE”</h2>
+<p>
+Old Campbell arose at his usual time, surprised
+and pleased to find that Toppy had breakfast already
+cooked and on the table. Being a canny Scot,
+he did not express his surprise or pleasure, but proceeded
+to look about for signs to indicate the reason of
+Toppy’s unwonted conduct. All that he could make
+out was that Toppy’s eyes were bright with some sort
+of excitement, and that the grim set of his mouth had
+given way to an expression of relief. So the Scot
+sat down to eat, shaking his grey head in puzzled
+fashion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dinna see that this thaw should be any reason
+for your parading around before the night’s done,”
+he grumbled. “Were you so tired of a little useful
+work that ye maun greet a let-down with such early
+rising?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy sat down and proceeded to breakfast without
+venturing a reply. When they had finished the
+meal he pushed back his chair and looked across at
+Campbell. Huge and careless, he sprawled in his
+chair, the tension and uncertainty gone now that he
+had made his resolution; and Campbell, studying his
+face, sensed that something was up and leaned forward
+eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I want to lay off to-day, Scotty,” said Toppy deliberately.
+“I’ve got a little business that I want to
+settle with Reivers.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Campbell did not start nor in any way indicate
+surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye!” he said quietly after a pause. “I ha’ seen
+from the first it would have to be that in the end. Ye
+maun settle which is best man. But why to-day?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Because now that the thaw has spoiled the sleighing
+Reivers will have time for deviltry.” And Toppy went
+on and told all that he had heard from Tilly’s lips
+that morning. Campbell shook his head angrily as
+he heard.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Many things has the Snow-Burner done ill,” he
+said, “and his sins against men and women cry for
+punishment; but that—to yon little lass—gi’n he did
+that, that would be worst of all. What are your plans,
+lad?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nothing,” said Toppy. “I will go and find him,
+and we’ll have it out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not so,” said Campbell swiftly. “Gi’n you did
+that ‘twould cost you your life did you chance to
+win o’er him. Do you think those devils with the
+guns would not murder to win favour of the Snow-Burner,
+him holding the lives and liberty of all of
+them in his hands as he does? Nay, lad! Fight ye
+must; you’re both too big and spirited to meet without
+coming to grips; but you have aye the need of an
+old head on your side if you’re to stand up with
+Reivers on even terms.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What think you he would fancy, did you go to
+him with a confident bold challenge as you suggest?
+That you had a trick up your sleeve, with the men
+in on it, perhaps; and he’d have the guards there
+with their guns to see he won as sure as we’re sitting
+here talking. No; I ha’ seen for weeks ’twas coming
+on, and I ha’ been using this auld head o’ mine. I may
+even say I ha’ been doing more than thinking; I ha’
+been talking. I have told Reivers that you were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span>
+becoming unbearable in this shop, and that I could
+not stand you much longer as my helper.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy looked across the table, amazed and pained.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why—what’s wrong, Scotty?” he stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tush, lad!” snapped the old man. “Dinna think
+I meant it. I only told Reivers so for the effect.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was bewildered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I don’t see what you’re driving at, Scotty.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Listen, then; I ha’ told Reivers that you were getting
+the swell head so bad there was no working you.
+I ha’ told him you were at heart nothing but a fresh
+young whiffet who needed taming, and gi’n he made
+me keep you here I mysel’ would do the taming with
+an ax-handle. Do you begin to get my drift now,
+lad?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I confess I don’t,” admitted Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, then—Reivers said: ‘That’s how I sized
+him up, too. But don’t you do the taming, Campbell,’
+says he. ‘I am saving him for mysel’,’ he says. ‘But
+I will not put up with his lip longer,’ said I. ‘Man,
+Reivers,’ I says, ‘he thinks he’s a fighter, and the other
+day I slammed him on his back mysel’; and gi’n I
+had my old wind,’ I says, ‘I would have whipped him
+then and there.’
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, carried on strong, losing my temper and all.
+‘Five year ago I would ha’ broken his back, the big
+young fool!’ I says. ‘An’ he swaggers around me
+and thinks he’s a boss man because he licked that bloat
+Sheedy. Ah!’ I says. ‘I’ll stand it till he gives me lip
+again; then I’ll lay him out with whatever I have in
+my hands,’ says I.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Don’t do it,’ says Reivers, smiling to see me so
+worked up, and surmising, as I intended he should,
+that I was angry only because I’d discovered that
+you were a better man than mysel’. ‘Save him for me,’
+says he. ‘As soon as I have more time I will ’tend to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>
+him. In the meantime,’ he says, ‘let him go on thinking
+he is a good man.’
+</p>
+<p>
+“Lad, he swallowed it all, for it’s four years since
+he knew me first, and that was the first lie I’d told him
+at all. ‘I’ll take him under my eye soon as I have
+more time,’ says he. ‘He’ll not swagger after I’ve
+tamed him a little.’”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But I don’t just see——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dolt! Dinna you see that noo he considers you as
+an overconfident young fool whom he’s going to take
+the conceit out of? Dinna ye see that noo you’re in
+the same category as the other men he’s broken down?
+He’ll not think it worth while to have his shotgun
+men handy noo when he starts in to do his breaking.
+He’ll start it, ye understand; not you. ’Twill be
+proper so. I will go this morning and tell him that
+the end has come; that I can not stand you longer
+around me. He’ll give you something to do—under
+him. Under him, do you see? Then you must e’en
+watch your chance, and—and happen I’ll manage to
+be around in case the guards should show up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Better keep out of it altogether,” said Toppy.
+“They won’t use their guns in an even fight, and you
+couldn’t do anything with your bare hands if they did.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“With my bare hands, no,” said Campbell, going
+to his bunk. “But I am not so bare-handed as you
+think, lad.” He dug under the blankets and held up
+a huge black revolver. “Canny by nature!” he said;
+thrusting the grim weapon under his trousers-band.
+“I made no idle threat when I told Reivers I would
+shoot his head off did he ever try to make a broken
+man out of me. I have had this utensil handy ever
+since.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Scotty,” cried Toppy, deeply moved at the old
+man’s staunch friendship, “when did you begin to plan
+this scheme?”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell looked squarely into his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The same day that I talked with yon lassie and
+learned how Reivers had fascinated her.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dinna ye know nothing about women, lad?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I——What do you mean?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you fancy Reivers could carry his will so strong
+with folks gi’n ye happen to make a beaten man out
+of him? And do you not think yon lass would come
+back to her right mind gi’n the Snow-Burner loses
+his power o’er her? You’re no’ so blind as not to
+see she’s no liking for him, but the de’il has in a way
+mesmerised her.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then you mean——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That when you and the Snow-Burner put up your
+mitts ye’ll be fighting for more than just to see who’s
+best man. Now think that over, lad, while I go and
+complain to Reivers that I can not stand you an
+hour longer, and arrange for him to give you your
+taming.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—THE FIGHT</h2>
+<p>
+It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the
+air had fled before the unclouded sun, and the day
+was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight coming
+in through the eastern window flooded the room.
+Outside could be heard the steady <i>drip-drip</i> from the
+melting icicles, and the chirp of the chickadees industriously
+seeking a breakfast around the door made
+the morning cheery.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell
+had gone on his errand, and looked out of the
+open door, and waited. From where he sat he could
+see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss
+Pearson come out, stand for a moment in the doorway
+peering around in puzzled fashion, and go in
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified—that
+the girl was puzzled and perhaps frightened
+over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but he had no
+impulse to cross the street and break the news to her.
+The girl, Tilly’s absence, such things were to him
+only incidentals now. He saw the girl as if far away,
+as if she were something that did not greatly concern
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Through his mind there ran recollections of other
+moments like this—moments of waiting in the training-quarters
+back at school for the word of the coach
+to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit after
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>
+the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking
+of all worry and nervousness in the knowledge that
+now that the test was on he would do the best that was
+in him, and that beyond this there was nothing for
+a man to think or worry about.
+</p>
+<p>
+Back there at school there had also been that sense
+of dissociation from all things not involved in the
+contest before him. The roaring stands, the pretty
+girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of
+his name shouted far down the field—he had heard
+them, but they had not affected him. For the time
+being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human
+machine, completely concentrated, as machines
+must be, upon the accomplishment of one task. Then
+it had been to play a game; now it was to fight. But
+it was much the same, after all; it was all in the man-game.
+</p>
+<p>
+A feeling of content was the only emotion that
+Toppy was conscious of in the long minutes during
+which he waited for Campbell to return. The <i>drip-drip</i>
+from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees
+came as music to his ears. The Snow-Burner and
+he were going to fight; in that knowledge there was
+relief after the weeks of tension.
+</p>
+<p>
+Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside,
+and Campbell’s broad shoulders filled the doorway.
+Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a
+shoe-lace.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It’s all set,” said Campbell rapidly. “He says send
+you to him at once. You’re in luck. He’s in the
+stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is only
+one guard at the gate. I’ll follow and be handy in
+case he should interfere.”
+</p>
+<p>
+That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without
+a word. He made his way to the stockade gate
+with a carelessness of manner that belied his purpose.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span>
+He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the
+gate and that the snow already was squashy underfoot.
+The gate opened and admitted him and closed
+behind him. Then he was walking across the yard
+toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp
+kitchen at the far end of the yard.
+</p>
+<p>
+Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses,
+perhaps fifty in all, and realised that the sudden thaw
+had at once enforced a period of idleness for some
+of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the
+greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored;
+then he was standing before Reivers, and Reivers was
+looking at him as he had looked at Rosky the day
+when he broke the Bohunk’s leg. Toppy looked back,
+unmoved. For a moment the two stood silent, eye
+measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke savagely, enraged
+at finding a will that braved his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Game?” repeated Toppy innocently.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come, come!” Reivers’ brows were drawing down
+over his eyes, and again Toppy for some reason was
+reminded of a bear. “You don’t suppose I’m as innocent
+as Campbell, do you? You’ve been raising ——
+in the shop, I hear. You’re doing that with an object.
+You’re trying some game. I don’t care what it is;
+it doesn’t go. There doesn’t anybody try any games
+in this place except myself.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“How about poker-games?” suggested Toppy
+quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind
+Reivers snickered audibly; for Campbell had told
+the story of how Toppy had bested the boss at poker
+and the man understood Toppy’s thrust. Reivers’
+eyes flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant
+he had his anger under control again. He smiled.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, well; so we’re playing the wit, are we—doctor?”
+he sneered softly. “We’re trying to drive that
+trained mind of ours to be brilliant, are we? Well,
+I wouldn’t, Treplin; the strain on inferior machinery
+may be fatal.” Suddenly his whole face seemed to
+change, convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening.
+“Get over there in that corner and dig a slop-sink; you
+hear me?” Reivers’ voice was a snarl as he pointed
+to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel
+lay waiting. “That’s what you’re going to do, my fine
+buck, with your nerve to dare to come into my camp
+and think you’re my equal. Dig slop-holes for my
+Dago cook; that’s what you’re going to do!
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you hear? You’re going to be the lowest
+scavenger in this gang of scum. I’m going to break
+you. I’m going to keep you here until I’m through
+with you. I’m going to send you out of here so low
+down that a saloon scrub-out would kick you on general
+principles. That’s what’s going to happen to you!
+I’m going to play with you. I’m going to show you
+how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in
+my own camp. Get over there now—right over there
+where the whole camp can see you, and dig a hole
+for the Dago to throw his slops!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner’s
+face as the words shot from his iron-like
+lips without retreating, but Toppy stood still. He began
+to smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pardon, Reivers,” he said softly, “I never thought
+of myself as your equal.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t whine now; it’s too late! Go——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Because I know I’m a better man than you ever
+could be.”
+</p>
+<p>
+It grew very still with great suddenness there in
+the corner of the big yard. The men within hearing
+held their breaths. The <i>drip-drip</i> from the eaves
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span>
+sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the
+wolf-craft creeping to its own far back in Reivers’
+eyes, and without moving he stood tensed for sudden,
+flash-like action.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So that’s it?” said Reivers, smiling; and then he
+struck with serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that
+blow Toppy knew how desperate would be the battle;
+for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he had
+time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to
+save himself from certain knockout, while the iron-like
+fist tore the skin off his cheek as it shot past.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow.
+He stood upright and ready. He was a little surprised
+that his man did not go down. Toppy, recovering
+like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they
+faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls
+they hurled themselves breast to breast and the fight
+was on.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind
+the challenge that had flared in Reivers’ eyes. It
+wasn’t science; it wasn’t sense. It was the blind,
+primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to
+stop him, to force him back, to make him break ground.
+Breast upon breast Reivers and Toppy came together
+and stopped short, two bodies of equal force suddenly
+meeting.
+</p>
+<p>
+Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at
+guarding. Toe to toe they stood, head to head, and
+drove their fists against one another’s iron-strong
+bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants
+like themselves could have withstood for a moment.
+It was madness, it was murder, and the group of men
+who were watching held their breaths and waited for
+one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked
+out of him by those pile-driver blows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>
+pair leaped apart, rushed together again, gripped into
+a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion with futile heaving
+and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed
+each other with vicious punches—a kaleidoscope of
+springing legs, rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from
+the heart of the men who witnessed and dragged them
+forth to form a ring around the two fighters. It was
+a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound
+came from the ring that expanded and closed as the
+battle raged here and there. The men were at first too
+shocked to cry out at the sight of any one daring to
+give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had
+worn away they were too wary to give a sign that
+might bring the guards. Silently and tight-lipped the
+ring formed; and each pair of eyes that watched shot
+nothing but hatred for Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was the first to recover from the initial
+frensied impulse to strive to annihilate in one rush
+his hated enemy. He shook his head as he was wont
+to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his
+fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he
+had held his own, but only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked
+Reivers slightly in body and was a trifle quicker
+on his feet, but Reivers’ blows were enough heavier
+than his to even up this advantage.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman’s
+neck under the ear, and the neck had not yielded
+any more than a column of wood. He had felt
+Reivers’ fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it
+seemed that he had been struck by a handful of iron.
+When they had strained breast against breast in the
+first clash the fact that they were of equal strength
+had been apparent to both. Equally matched, and
+both equally determined to win, Toppy knew that the
+fight would be long; and he began to circle scientifically,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span>
+striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving
+himself while he watched for a slip or an opening
+that might offer an advantage.
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second
+paused, deceived by Toppy’s tactics. Like a bullet
+to the mark Toppy’s right shot home on the exposed
+chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was
+up like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the
+mouth and rushing him around and around in fury
+at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy’s
+expression told how he appreciated the significance of
+this incident. He had put all his force, from toes to
+knuckles, into that blow; and Reivers had merely been
+staggered. Again Toppy began circling, deliberately
+saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to
+him seemed uphill.
+</p>
+<p>
+The ring of watchers around the pair grew more
+close, more eager. All of the men present in the
+bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As Toppy
+circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys
+and most of the gang that had worked under him in
+the quarry; and by the looks in their eyes he knew
+that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In the
+next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers,
+swiftly feinting with his left, drove home the right
+against Toppy’s jaw and knocked him to his haunches.
+But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as he closed
+in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing
+to the eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped
+the tight lips around the ring. The blood was spurting
+from a clean cut in Reivers’ brow and a few men
+called—
+</p>
+<p>
+“First blood!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after
+Reivers’ blow. The feel of the blood running down
+his face turned Reivers to a fury. He rushed with an
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span>
+impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists
+playing a tattoo on Toppy’s head and body. Like a
+tiger Toppy fought back; but Reivers’ rage for the
+moment had given him added strength. He fought as
+a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed
+and struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and
+rushed and struck again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the
+crowd as they saw him stagger from a blow on the jaw
+and saw Reivers set himself for one last desperate
+effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon,
+his left ripping up for the body, his right looping
+overhand in a killing swing at the head; and then
+the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior quickness
+of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past
+dealt him a left in the mouth that flung him half around
+and sent him staggering against the outheld hands of
+the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding
+from the mouth also, and in his eyes was a look of
+caution that Toppy had never seen there before.
+</p>
+<p>
+The fight now became as dogged as it was furious.
+Each man had tried to end it with a single and, failing,
+knew that he must wear his opponent down.
+Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows
+struck and neither was in the least tired. The thud
+of blow followed blow. Back and forth the pair
+shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of
+punches, then his antagonist suddenly turning the
+tables.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight,
+saved himself more than Reivers. The latter, who
+felt himself the master, became more and more enraged
+as Toppy continued to stand up before him and
+give him back as good as he gave. Each time that
+Toppy reached face or body with a solid blow the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span>
+savage fury flared in Reivers’ eyes, and he lunged forward
+like a maddened bull. Always, however, he
+recovered himself and resumed the fight with brains
+as well as brawn.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm.
+He realised that they were so evenly matched that
+the loser would lose by a slip of the mind by letting
+some weak spot in his character master him; and he
+held himself in with an iron will. Reivers’ blows
+goaded and tempted him to rush in madly, but he held
+back. The men about the ring thought he was losing,
+and their voices rose in growled encouragement.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become
+more and more furious his hopes began to rise. At
+each opportunity he reached Reivers’ face, cutting open
+his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging
+him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down
+several times in the rushes that invariably followed
+such blows, but each time he recovered himself before
+Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his fighting-instinct
+telegraphed him that Reivers was about to
+try something new. He drew back a little, Reivers
+following closely. Suddenly it came. Without warning
+Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in the
+groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry
+of rage went up from the watching men. But Toppy
+sprung erect in an instant.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right!” he called. “It didn’t hurt me. Shut
+up, you fools.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned
+the kick and saved him from being disabled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s the matter, Reivers?” he taunted as he circled
+carefully. “Losing confidence in your fists? Got
+to use your feet, eh? Lost your kick, too, haven’t
+you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine
+trimming!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the
+shin-bone; but Toppy avoided it easily and danced
+back with a laugh.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Can’t even land it any more!” Treplin chuckled.
+“Show us some more tricks, Reivers!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought
+with lowered head, and Toppy once more, as he saw
+the eyes watching him through the thick brows,
+thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers’
+character was coming to the top. It was mastering,
+choking down his intelligence. He struck and
+kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a
+steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on
+Toppy’s thigh with a thud.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Here, bahass!” screamed a voice to Toppy, and
+from somewhere in the crowd an ax was pitched at
+his feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side,
+and, though in deep pain from the last kick, continued
+fighting as if nothing had happened.
+</p>
+<p>
+The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and
+been caught by the sight of the flashing steel. A
+gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of his
+ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with
+one terrible stroke—that was his single passion. The
+axe opened the way.
+</p>
+<p>
+Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little
+by little he drove Toppy back. Closer and closer he
+came to the spot where the axe lay on the ground.
+Once more Toppy’s instinct warned him that Reivers
+was after a terrible <i>coup</i>, and once more his whole
+mind and body responded with extra vigilance.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his
+feet and understood. He saw that Reivers was systematically
+working toward the weapon, though apparently
+unconscious of its existence.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+It was in Toppy’s mind to dance away, to call out
+to the men to remove the axe; but before he could
+do so something had whispered to him to hold his
+tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back
+at every inch.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now he had stepped beyond the axe.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now it lay between him and Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now it lay beneath Reivers’ feet, and now, as
+Reivers stooped to pick it up, Toppy, like a tiger,
+flung himself forward. It was what he had foreseen,
+what had made him hold his tongue.
+</p>
+<p>
+The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the
+weapon; the calmly reasoning brain in Toppy’s head
+had foreseen that in that lay his advantage. It was
+for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers
+paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had
+flung himself forward at the psychological moment
+it was enough. Reivers was bent over with his hand
+on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind
+his left ear exposed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy’s fist, swung from far behind him, struck the
+spot with the sound of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped
+as he was, rolled over and over and lay still. Toppy
+first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach.
+Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a
+string of foul curses on his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward.
+His left lifted Reivers from his feet. Even
+while he was in the air, Toppy’s right followed on
+the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy,
+drawing a long breath, called into play all the strength
+he had been saving. He struck and struck again so
+rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow
+found its mark; and each was of deadly power.
+</p>
+<p>
+He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he
+willed. He beat him till he saw Reivers’ eyes grow
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span>
+glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost superhuman
+strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet
+until now in spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now
+he swayed back and forth once. His breath came
+in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly;
+and as a great tree falls—slowly at first, then with a
+sudden crash—the Snow-Burner toppled and fell face
+downward on the ground.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—TOPPY’S WAY</h2>
+<p>
+Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished
+foe. The convulsive rise and fall of his breast
+as he panted for breath told how desperately and
+savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious
+and looked down upon the man he had conquered, the
+chivalry innate in him began to stir with respect and
+even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked
+at Reivers’ bloody face as, the head turned on one
+side, it lay nuzzled helplessly against the soft ground.
+A wave of revulsion, the aftermath of his fury, passed
+over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his eyes
+as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists
+had wrought.
+</p>
+<p>
+And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not
+foreseen it, never had dreamed it possible. But now
+the men who had watched cried aloud their hatred of
+the big man who lay before them. The king-man,
+their master, was down! Upright, they would have
+quailed before his mere look. But now he was down!
+The man who had mastered them, broken them,
+tortured them, lay helpless there before them. The
+courage and hate of slaves suddenly in power over
+their master flamed through them. This was their
+chance; they had him now.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!”
+they roared, and threw themselves like a pack of
+wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they rushed
+Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span>
+then he went down under a shower of heavily booted
+feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself
+forward. He knew quite well that this was what
+Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the
+men some time would have the opportunity for such
+revenge. But now he discovered that he couldn’t
+stand by and see it done. It wasn’t in him. Reivers
+was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was
+helpless. Toppy’s rage suddenly swerved from Reivers
+to the men who were trying to kick the life out of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Back! Get back there, I say!” he ordered.
+</p>
+<p>
+He reached in and threw men right and left. He
+knocked others down. One he picked up and used
+as a battering-ram, and so he fought his way in and
+cleared the rabble away from Reivers. Reivers with
+more than human tenaciousness had retained a glimmer
+of consciousness. He saw Toppy standing astride
+of him fighting for his life. And in that beaten,
+desperate moment Reivers laughed once more.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re a —— fool, Treplin,” said he. “You’d
+better let them finish the job.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy dragged him to his feet. A gleam of mastery
+flashed over the Snow-Burner as he felt himself
+standing upright. He swung to face the men.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Out of the way there, you scum!” he ordered, in
+his old manner. The men laughed in reply. The
+spell had been broken. The men had seen the Snow-Burner
+knocked down and beaten. They had seen that
+Toppy was his master. They had kicked him; they
+had had him under them. No longer did he stand
+apart and above them. They cursed him and swarmed
+in, striking, kicking, hauling, and dragged him to the
+ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Give him to us, bahss!” they cried. “Let us kill
+him, bahss!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Some of them hung back. They did not wish to run
+contrary to the wishes of Toppy, their “bahss” and
+champion. Toppy once more got Reivers on his feet
+and dragged him toward the gate. A knife or two
+gleamed in the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Run for the gate!” cried Toppy. Reivers tottered
+a few steps and fell. Over him Toppy stormed,
+fought, commanded, but the mob pressed constantly
+closer. Then, suddenly, they stopped striking. They
+began to break. Toppy, looking around for the reason,
+saw Campbell and a guard running toward them—Campbell
+with his big revolver, the guard with his
+gun at a ready. With a last tremendous effort he
+picked Reivers up in his arms and ran to meet them.
+He heard the guard fire once, heard Campbell ordering
+the men to stand back; then he staggered out of the
+stockade and dropped his heavy burden on the ground.
+Behind him Campbell and the guard slammed shut
+the gate, and within the cries and curses of the men
+rose in one awful wail, the cry of a blood-mob cheated
+of its prey.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers rose slowly, first to his hands and knees,
+then to his feet. He looked at Toppy, and the only
+expression upon his face was a sneer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You —— fool!” he laughed. “You poor weak
+sister! You’ll be sorry before morning that you didn’t
+let the men finish that job!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned, and without another word went staggering
+away to the building where he and the guards
+lived.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—THE END OF THE BOSS</h2>
+<p>
+Back in the shop Campbell went to work with a
+will to doctor up Toppy’s battered face.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dunno, lad, I dunno,” he muttered as he patched
+up the ragged cuts. “It was the poetry of justice
+that the men should have had him, but I dunno that
+I could ha’ left him lie there myself.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Of course you couldn’t,” said Toppy. “A man
+can’t do that sort of thing. But, say, Campbell, what
+do you suppose he meant about being sorry before
+morning because I saved him?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Although he had won in the contest which he had
+so longed for, although he had proved and knew that
+he was a better man than Reivers, Toppy for some
+reason experienced none of the elation which he had
+expected. The thing wasn’t settled. Reivers was still
+fighting. He was still boss of Hell Camp. He was
+fighting with craft now. What had that final threat
+meant?
+</p>
+<p>
+“It has to do with the lass; I’ll wager on that,” said
+Campbell. “He will aye be taking his revenge on
+her. I know the man; he has that way.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The dog!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye.—Hold still wi’ that ear now.—Aye; it’s the
+way of the man, as I know him. But I’m thinking
+some one else will play dog, too. Watchdog, I mean.
+And I’m thinking the same will be mysel’.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You don’t think he’ll try——”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner will try anything if his mind’s
+set. Even force.—Hold still wi’ your chin.—You
+licked him fair, lad. ’Twas a great fight. You’re best
+man. But I’m glad I have my shooting-utensil handy,
+for if I’m any judge Hell Camp will aye deserve its
+name to-night.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What do you think will happen?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis hard to say. But ’tis sure Reivers means to
+do something desperate, and as I know the man ’tis
+something that concerns the lass. Then there are the
+men. They have tasted blood. They have seen the
+Snow-Burner beaten. His grip has been torn off them.
+They’re no longer afraid. When the working gangs
+come in this noon and hear the story there’ll be nothing
+can hold them from doing what they please. You
+know what that will be. They’re wild to break loose.
+Gi’n they lay hands on Reivers they’ll tear him and
+the camp to pieces. Aye, there’ll be things stirring
+here before evening, or I’m a dolt.”
+</p>
+<p>
+True to Campbell’s prediction, the stockade shook
+with cheers, roars and curses that noon when the
+working men came in and heard the tale of the Snow-Burner’s
+downfall. The discipline of the camp vanished
+with those shouts. The men were no longer
+cowed. They were free and unafraid. After they had
+eaten, the straw-bosses and guards prepared to lead
+them back to their work.
+</p>
+<p>
+The men laughed. The bosses joined them. The
+guards threatened. The men jeered. Reivers, the
+only force that had kept them cowed, was lying beaten
+and helpless in his bunk, and not even the shotguns
+of the guards could cow the fierce spirit that had
+broken loose in the men when they heard this news.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shoot, —— you, shoot!” they jeered at the guards.
+</p>
+<p>
+The guards faltered. The whole camp was in revolt
+and they knew that as sure as one shot was fired the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span>
+men would rush at no matter how great the cost
+to themselves. There were a hundred and fifty maddened,
+desperate men in the camp now, instead of a
+hundred and fifty cattle; and the guards, minus Reivers’
+leadership, retreated to their quarters and locked
+the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+The men did not go back to work. Not an axe, peavey
+or cant-hook was touched; not a team was hitched
+up. The men swaggered and shouted for Reivers
+to come out and boss them. They begged him to come
+out. They wanted to talk with him. They had a lot
+to tell him. They wouldn’t hurt him—no, they would
+only give him a little of his own medicine!
+</p>
+<p>
+However, they gave the guards’ house a wide berth,
+on account of the deadly shotguns. The short afternoon
+passed quickly and the darkness came on.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy and Campbell were sitting down to supper
+when they noticed that it was unusually light in the
+direction of the stockade. Presently there was a roaring
+crackling; then a chorus of cries, demonlike in
+their ferocity. Toppy sprang to the window and staggered
+back at the sight that met his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Great Scot, Campbell! Look, look!” he cried.
+“They’ve fired the camp!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Together they rushed to the door. From the farther
+end of the stockade a billow of red, pitchy flame was
+sweeping up into the night, and the roar and crackle
+of the dried pine logs burning was drowned in the
+cries of the men as they cheered the results of their
+handiwork.
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy and Campbell ran toward the stockade gate.
+The gate had been chopped to pieces, but the guards,
+from the shelter of their building, were shooting at the
+opening and preventing the men from rushing out.
+The flames at the far end of the stockade rose higher
+and fiercer as they began to get their hold on the pitchy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span>
+wood. The smoke, billowing low, came driving back
+into the faces of Campbell and Toppy.
+</p>
+<p>
+“They’ve done it up brown now!” swore Campbell.
+“The wind’s this way. The whole camp will go unless
+yon fire’s checked.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Over the front of the stockade something flew
+through the darkness, its parabola marked by a string
+of sparks that spluttered behind it. It fell near one
+side of the guards’ quarters. A second later it exploded
+with a noise and shock that shook the whole
+camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dynamite,” said Scotty. “The men have been
+stealing it and saving it for this occasion. Gi’n one
+of those sticks lands on that building there’ll be dead
+men inside.”
+</p>
+<p>
+But the men inside evidently had no mind to wait
+for such a catastrophe. They came rushing out in
+the darkness, slipping quickly out of sight, yet firing
+at the gate as they went. One of them rushed past
+Toppy in the direction of the office. Toppy scarcely
+noticed him. On second thought something about
+the man’s great size, his broad shoulders, the hang of
+his arms, attracted him. He turned to look; the man
+had vanished in the dark. A vague uneasiness took
+possession of Toppy. For a moment he stood puzzled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“My ——!” he cried suddenly. “That was Reivers,
+and he was going to her!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He started in pursuit. Reivers was pounding on
+the door of the office when Toppy reached him. The
+door was locked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Open up; open up at once!” he ordered. Beyond
+the door Toppy heard the voice of the girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, please, please, Mr. Reivers! I’m afraid!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ tone changed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nothing to be afraid of, Miss Pearson,” he said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span>
+blandly. “There’s a fire in camp. I want to get in to
+save the books and papers.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is that why you sent Tilly away this morning?”
+said Toppy quietly, coming up behind him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers turned with a start.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hello, Treplin!” he said, recovering himself instantly.
+“No hard feelings, I hope.” His manner was
+so at ease that Toppy was thrown off his guard.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I won’t make the mistake of fighting with you any
+more, Treplin,” continued Reivers. “Look at the way
+you’ve spoiled my nose. You ought to fix that up for
+me. Look at it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He came closer and pointed with two fingers to
+his broken nose. Toppy, unsuspecting, leaned forward.
+Before he could move head or arms Reivers’
+two hands had shot out and fastened like two iron
+claws upon his unprotected throat.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “Tear me loose
+or kiss your life good-by.”
+</p>
+<p>
+And Toppy tried to tear him loose—tried with a
+desperation born of the sudden knowledge that his
+life depended upon it; and failed. The Snow-Burner
+had got his death-hold. His arms were like bars of
+steel; his fingers yielded no more to Toppy’s tugging
+than claws of moulded iron. “Struggle, —— you!
+Fight, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “That’s right; die
+hard; for, by ——, you’re done now!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The eyes seemed starting from Toppy’s head. His
+brains seemed to be bursting. He felt a strange emptiness
+in his chest. Things went red, then they began
+to go black. He made one final futile attempt. He
+felt his legs sinking, felt his whole body sagging, felt
+that the end had come; then heard as if far away the
+office-door fly open, heard the girl crying——
+</p>
+<p>
+“Stop, Mr. Reivers, or I’ll shoot!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the roar of a shot. He felt the hands loosen
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span>
+on his throat, swayed and fell sidewise as the whole
+world turned black.
+</p>
+<p>
+He opened his eyes soon and saw by the light of the
+rising flames that Campbell was running toward him.
+In the doorway of the office stood the girl, her left
+hand over her eyes, Campbell’s big black revolver in
+her right. Down the road, with strange, drunken
+steps, Reivers was running toward the river. Behind
+him ran half a dozen men armed with axes screaming
+his name in rage, but Reivers, despite his queer gait,
+was distancing his pursuers. It was some time before
+Toppy grasped the significance of these sights. Then
+he remembered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You—you saved me,” he said clumsily, rising to
+his feet. The girl dropped the revolver and burst into
+a fit of sobbing.
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Twas aye handy I thought of giving her the gun
+and telling her to keep the door locked,” said Campbell.
+“Do you go in, lassie. All’s well. Go in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh? What’s this?” he cried, for in spite of her
+sobbing she drew sharply away from his sheltering
+arm as he tried to usher her indoors.
+</p>
+<p>
+The smoke from the fire swept down into their
+faces in a choking cloud. Toppy looked toward the
+stockade. By this time the whole end of the great
+building was in flames. The men in pursuit of Reivers
+were howling as they gained on their quarry, and
+Toppy lurched after them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bob! Mr. Treplin!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy stopped.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I mean—Mr. Treplin—you—don’t go down there—you’re
+hurt—please!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Toppy moved toward her. Was it true? Was it
+really there the note in her voice that he yearned
+to hear?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“What did you say—please?” he stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+And now it was her turn to be confused. The sobs
+came back to her. Toppy took a long breath and
+nerved himself to desperation.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Helen!” he said hoarsely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bob! Oh, Bob!” she whispered. “Don’t leave
+me—don’t leave me alone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Once more Toppy filled his lungs with air and
+ground his teeth in desperate resolution. He tried
+to speak, but only a gurgling sound came from his
+throat; so he held out his big arms in mute appeal,
+and suddenly he found himself whispering incoherently
+at a little blonde head which lay snuggled in great
+content against his bosom.
+</p>
+<p>
+A maddened yell came from the men who were
+after Reivers. But Toppy and the girl might have
+been a thousand miles away for all the attention they
+paid. One end of the stockade fell in with a great
+roar and a shower of flame and sparks; but the twain
+did not hear.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, aye!” Old Campbell moved swiftly away.
+“He’s a grown man now, and so he’s a right to have
+his woman.—Aye. A real man he had to be to take
+her away from the Snow-Burner.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Down by the river the pursuing men gave tongue
+to a cry with the note of the wolf in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Campbell turned from the young couple and stared
+with gleaming eyes in the direction whence came the
+cry.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, Reivers!” he murmured. “Ye great man gone
+wrong! How goes it with ye now, Reivers? Can ye
+win through? Can ye? I wonder—I wonder!”
+</p>
+<p>
+And as Toppy and Helen, holding closely to one
+another, entered the office building, the old man hastened
+to join the throng by the river where the fate of
+the Snow-Burner was being spun.
+</p>
+<p class='center fs12' style='margin-top:3em;'>PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—THE CHEATING OF THE RIVER</h2>
+<p>
+“It’s got him! The river’s got him. He’s
+drowned! ‘Hell-Camp’ Reivers—he’s gone.
+He’s done for. The ‘Snow-Burner’ is dead, dead
+dead!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Like wolves in revolt the men of “Hell Camp” lined
+the bank of the rushing, ice-choked river and cursed
+and roared into the blackness of the night. Behind
+them the buildings of the camp, scene of the Snow-Burner’s
+inhuman brutality and dominance over the
+lives of men, were going up in seas of flame which they
+had started.
+</p>
+<p>
+Before them the tumultuous river, the waters battling
+the ice which strove to cover it, tossed black and
+white under the red glow of tumbling fire. And somewhere
+out in the murderous current, whirled and
+sucked down by the rushing water, buffeted and
+crushed by the grinding ice, a bullet-hole through his
+shoulder, was all that was left of the man whose life
+they had cried for.
+</p>
+<p>
+The river had cheated them. Like panting wolves,
+their hands outstretched claw-like to clutch and kill,
+they had pursued him closely to the river’s edge. A
+cry of rage, short, sharp, unreasoning, had leaped
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span>
+from their throats as Reivers, staggering from his
+wound, had leaped unhesitatingly out on to the heaving
+cakes of ice.
+</p>
+<p>
+Spellbound, open-mouthed and silent, they had stood
+and watched as their erstwhile oppressor ran zigzagging,
+leaping from cake to cake, out toward the black
+slip of open water which ran silently, swiftly in the
+river’s middle. And then they had cried out again.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the open water had caught him. Straight into
+it, without pausing or swerving, Reivers had run on.
+And the black water had taken him home. Like a
+stone dropped into its midst, it had taken him plump—a
+flirt of spray, a gurgle. Then the waters rushed
+on as before, silent, deadly, unconcerned.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so the men of Hell Camp, drunk with the spirit
+and success of their revolt, cried out in triumph. Their
+cry rose over the roar of flame. It rang above the
+rumble of crunching ice. It reached, pæan-like, up
+through the star-filled northern night—a cry of victory,
+of gratification, the old, terrible cry of the kill.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the Snow-Burner was gone. Wolf-like he had
+harried them and wolf-like he had died. No man, not
+even Hell-Camp Reivers, they knew, could live a minute
+in that black water. They had seen the waters
+close above him; a floe of ice swept serenely over
+the spot where he had gone down. He was gone. The
+world was rid of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so the men of Cameron-Dam Camp, while their
+cry still echoed in the timber, turned to carry the news
+of the Snow-Burner’s end back to the men who were
+milling about the burning camp. The Snow-Burner
+was dead!
+</p>
+<p>
+Out in the deadly river, Hell-Camp Reivers stayed
+under water until he knew that the men on the bank
+counted him drowned. He had sought the open water
+deliberately, his giant lungs filling themselves with air
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span>
+as he plunged down to the superhuman test which
+was to spell life or death for him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He realised that if he were to live he must appear to
+perish in the river, before the eyes of the men who
+pursued him. To have won through the open water,
+and over the ice beyond, and in their sight have
+reached the farther shore would have sealed his doom
+as surely as to have returned to the bank where
+stood the men.
+</p>
+<p>
+The camp had revolted. Two hundred men had
+said that he must die; and had he been seen to cross
+the river and enter the timber beyond, half of the
+two hundred, properly armed, would have crossed the
+stringers of the dam, not to pause or rest until they
+had hunted him down. He was without weapons
+of any kind save his bare fists. He was bleeding
+heavily from the bullet-hole in his right shoulder. He
+would have died like a wounded wolf run to earth had
+he been seen to cross the river safely. His only chance
+for life was to appear to die in the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+He made no fight as he went down. The swift
+waters sucked him under like a straw. They rolled
+him over the rocky bottom, whirled him around and
+around sunken piles of ice. Into the sluice-like current
+of the stream’s middle they spewed him, and the
+current caught him and shot him into the darkness
+below the glare of the burning camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+He lay inert in the water’s grasp, recking not how
+the sharp ice gashed and tore face and hands, how
+the rocks crushed and bruised his body. A sweeping
+ice-floe caught him and held him down. Like some
+great river-beast he lay supine beneath it, conserving
+every atom of his giant’s strength for the test
+that was to win him life.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, with the blood roaring in his temples, and
+his bursting lungs warning him that the next second
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span>
+must yield him air or death, he threw his body upward
+against the ice, felt it slip to one side, thrust his
+upturned face out of the water, caught a finger-hold
+on another floe that strove to thrust him down, gasped,
+clawed and—laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was a dead man, and he lived. Men had driven
+him into the jaws of death, and death had engulfed
+and apparently swallowed him. Men counted him
+now as one who had gone hence. Far and wide the
+word would be flung in a hurry: the Snow-Burner
+was no more; Hell-Camp Reivers had passed away.
+</p>
+<p>
+The face of the Snow-Burner as it rode barely above
+the icy, lapping waters, bore but one single expression,
+a sardonic appreciation of the joke he had played
+upon men and Death. The loss of Cameron Camp,
+of his position, of all that he called his own did not
+trouble him.
+</p>
+<p>
+As the current swept him down there, he was a
+beaten man, stripped of all the things that men struggle
+for to have and to hold, and with but a slippery finger-hold
+on life itself. Yet he was victorious, triumphant.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had placed himself within the clammy fingers
+of the River Death. The fingers had closed upon him,
+and he had torn them apart, had thrust death away,
+had clutched life as it fleeted from him and had drawn
+it back to hold for the time being. And Reivers
+laughed contemptuously, tauntingly, at the sucking
+waters cheated of their prey.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not yet, Nick, old boy,” he muttered. “It doesn’t
+please me to boss your stokers just yet.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The current tore the ice from his precarious grip
+and he was forced to swim for it. In the darkness he
+struck the grinding icefield on the far side of the open
+water, and like the claws of a bear his stiffening fingers
+sought for and found a crevice to afford a secure hold.
+</p>
+<p>
+A pull, a heave and a wriggle, and he lay face-down
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span>
+on the jagged ice—heart, lungs and brain crying
+for the cold air which he sucked in avidly. The ice-cakes
+parted beneath his weight. Once more he fought
+through the water to a resting place on the ice; once
+more the treacherous ice parted and dropped him into
+the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Swimming, crawling, wriggling his way, he fought
+on. At last an outstretched hand groped to a hold on a
+snow-covered root on the far bank of the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+“About time,” he said and, slowly drawing himself
+up onto the bank, he rolled over in the snow and lay
+with his face turned back toward Cameron Camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+The fire which the men had started in the long
+bunk-house when they had revolted against the inhumanity
+of Reivers now had gained full headway.
+In pitchy, red billows of flame the dried log walls
+were roaring upward into the night. Like the yipping
+of maddened demons, the bellowing shouts of the men
+came back to him as they danced and leaped around
+the fire in celebration of the passing of Reivers and
+of the camp for which his treatment of men had justly
+earned the title of Hell-Camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+But louder and more poignant even than the roar of
+flame and the shouts of jubilant men, there came to
+Reivers’ ears a sound which prompted him to drag
+himself to an elbow to listen. Somewhere out in the
+timber near the camp a man was crying for mercy. A
+rifle cracked; the pleading stopped. Reivers smiled
+contemptuously.
+</p>
+<p>
+“One of the guards; they got him,” he mused.
+“The fool! That’s what he gets for being silly enough
+to be faithful to me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+But the fate of the guard, one of the “shot-gun
+artists” who had served him faithfully and brutally in
+the task of keeping the men of the camp helpless
+under his heel, roused Reivers to the need of quick
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span>
+action. If the guards had escaped into the woods
+and were being hunted down by the maddened crew,
+the hunt might easily lead across the dam and up the
+bank to where he lay. Once let it be known that he
+had not perished in the river, and the whole camp
+would come swarming across the dam, each man’s
+hand against him, resolved to take his trail and hunt
+him down, no matter where the trail might lead or
+how long the hunt might take.
+</p>
+<p>
+The fight through the river ice was but the preliminary
+to his flight for safety. Many miles of cold
+trail between him and the burning camp were his most
+urgent present needs, and with a curse he staggered
+to his feet and stood for a moment lowering back
+across the water to the scene of his overthrow.
+</p>
+<p>
+To a lesser man—or a better man—there would have
+been deep humiliation in the situation. Reivers’s
+mind flashed back over the incidents of the last few
+hours. Over there, across the river, he had been
+beaten for the first time in his life in a fair, stand-up
+fist fight. He had underestimated young Treplin,
+and Treplin had beaten him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Following his defeat had come the revolt of the men.
+Following that had come flight. The power and leadership
+of the camp had been wrested from his hands
+by a better man; he himself had been driven out,
+helpless, beaten, yet Reivers only laughed as he stood
+now and looked back across the river. For in the
+river the Snow-Burner had died.
+</p>
+<p>
+The past was dead. A new life was beginning
+for him. It had to be so, for if word went back
+that the Snow-Burner was still alive the men of Cameron-Dam
+Camp would come clamouring to the hunt.
+To die, and yet to live; to slough one life, as an old
+coat, and to take up another, not having the slightest
+notion of what it might hold—that was the great
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span>
+adventure, that was something so interesting that the
+humiliation of defeat never so much as reached beneath
+Reivers’ skin.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood for a moment, looking back at the camp,
+and he smiled. He waved his left hand in a polished
+gesture of contemptuous farewell.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good-by, Mr. Hell-Camp Reivers,” he growled.
+“Hello, Mr. New Man, whoever you are. Let’s
+go and lay up till the puncture in your hide heals.
+Then we’ll go out and see what you can do to this
+silly old world.”
+</p>
+<p>
+With his fingers clutching the hole in his shoulder,
+he turned and lurched drunkenly away into the blackness
+of the thick timber.
+</p>
+<p>
+The icy waters of the river had been kind to him in
+more ways than one. They had congealed the warm
+blood-spurts from his wound into a solid red clot, and
+his thick woolen shirt and mackinaw were frozen stiff
+and tight against the clot.
+</p>
+<p>
+He held to his staggering run for an hour, seeking
+bare spots in the timber, travelling on top of windfalls
+when he found them, hiding his trail in uncanny fashion,
+before his body grew warm enough to thaw the
+icy bandages. Then he halted and, by the light of
+the cold moon, bared his shoulder and took stock.
+It was a bad, ragged wound. He moved the shoulder
+and smiled sardonically as he noted that no bone was
+touched.
+</p>
+<p>
+From the butt of a shattered windfall he tore a
+flat sliver of clean pine. With his teeth he worried it
+down to a proper size, and with handkerchief and belt
+he bound it over the wound so tightly that it sunk
+deep into the muscles of the shoulder. It chafed and
+cut the skin and started the blood in half a dozen
+places, but he pulled the belt up another hole despite
+the inclination to grimace from pain.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Suffer, Body,” he muttered, “suffer all you please.
+You’ve nothing to say about this. Your job for the
+present is merely to serve life by keeping it going.
+Later on you may grow whole again. I shall need
+you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He buttoned his mackinaw with difficulty and, finding
+an open space, turned and took his bearings. Far
+behind him a dull red glow on the sky marked the
+location of Cameron-Dam Camp. From this he
+turned, carefully scanning the heavens, until above the
+top of the timber he caught the weird glint of the
+northern lights. That way lay his course.
+</p>
+<p>
+The white man’s country stopped with the timber
+in which he stood. Beyond was Indian country, the
+bleak, barren Dead Lands, a wilderness too bare of
+timber to tempt the logger, a land of ridge upon ridge
+of ragged rock, unexplored by white man, save for
+a rare mining prospector, and uninhabited save for the
+half-starved camp of the people of Tillie, the Chippewa,
+Reivers’ slave, by the power of the love she
+bore him.
+</p>
+<p>
+White men shunned the white wastes of the Dead
+Lands as, in warmer climes, they shun the unwatered
+sands of the desert. That was why Reivers sought
+it. Out there in the camp of Tillie’s people he could
+lie safe, well fed, well nursed, until his wound healed
+and the strength of his body came back to him. And
+then....
+</p>
+<p>
+“Cheer up, Body!” he chuckled as he started northward.
+“We’ll make the world pay bitterly for all of
+this when we’re in shape again. For the present
+we’re going north, going north, going north. You
+can’t stop, Body; you can’t lay down. Groan all
+you want to. You’re going to be dragged just as far
+to-night as if you weren’t shot up at all.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—THE GIRL WHO WAS NOT AFRAID</h2>
+<p>
+Break of day in Winter time comes to the Dead
+Lands slowly and without enthusiasm, as if the
+rosy morning sun wearied at the hopeless landscape
+which its rays must illumine. Aimless rock formation
+was a drug on the creation’s market the day that the
+Bad Lands were made. Gigantic boulders, box-like
+bluffs, ragged rock-spires, cliffs and plateaus of bare
+rock were in oversupply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nature, so a glimpse of the place suggests, had
+resolved to get rid of a vast surplus of ugly, useless
+stone, and with one cast of its hands flung them solidly
+down and made the Dead Lands. There they lie,
+hog-back, ridge, gully and ravine, hopelessly and aimlessly
+jumbled and tumbled, a scene of desolate greyness
+by Summer; by Winter the raw, bleak ridges and
+spires, thrusting themselves through the covering of
+snow like unto the bones of a half concealed skeleton.
+</p>
+<p>
+Daylight crept wearily over the timber belt and
+spread itself slowly over the barrenness, and struck the
+highest rise of ground, running crosswise through
+the barrens, which men called “Hog-Back Ridge.”
+Little by little it lighted up the bleak peaks and tops
+of ridge and rock-spire.
+</p>
+<p>
+A wind came with it, a bleak, morning Winter wind
+which whined as it whipped the dry snow from high
+places and sent it flying across coulée and valley in
+the grey light of dawn. Nothing stirred with the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span>
+coming of daylight. No nocturnal animal, warned
+of the day’s coming, slunk away to its cave; no beast
+or bird of daylight greeted the morning with movement
+or song. The grey half-light revealed no living
+thing of life upon the exposed hump of the ridge.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sun came, a ball of dull red, rising over the
+timber line. It touched the topmost spires of rock,
+sought to gild them rosily, gave up as their sullen
+sides refused to take the colour, and turned its rays
+along the eastern slope. Then something moved. A
+single speck of life stirred in the vast scene of desolation.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the bare ground in the lea of a boulder a man
+sat with his back to the stone and slept. His face was
+hollow and lined. The corners of his mouth were
+drawn down as if a weight were hung on each of them,
+and the thin cheeks, hugging the bones so tightly that
+the teeth showed through, told that the man had driven
+himself too far on an empty stomach. Yet, even in
+sleep, there was a hint of a sardonic smile on the misshapen
+lips, a smile that condemned and made naught
+the pain and cruelty of his fate.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sun crept down the slope of Hog-Back Ridge
+and found him. It reached his eyes. Its rays had
+no more warmth than the rays of the cold Winter
+moon, but its light pierced through the tightly drawn
+lids. They twitched and finally parted. Reivers awoke
+without yawning or moving and looked around.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the second morning after his flight from
+Cameron-Dam Camp, and he had yet to reach the
+Winter camp of the people of Tillie the squaw. Somewhere
+to the west it lay. He would reach it and reach
+it in good time, he swore; but he had not had a bite
+of food in his mouth for two days, and the fever of
+his wound had sapped heavily his strength.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Be still, Body,” he growled, as with the return
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span>
+of consciousness his belly cried out for food. “You
+will be fed before life goes out of you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He rose slowly and stiffly to his knees and looked
+down the ridge to where the rays of the sun now
+were illumining the snow-covered bottom of the valley
+below. The valley ran eastward for a mile or two,
+and at first glance it was empty and dead, save for
+the flurries of wind-swept snow, dropping down from
+the heights above. But Reivers, as he rose to his feet,
+swept the valley with a second glance, and suddenly
+he dropped and crouched down close to the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+Far down at the lower end of the valley a black
+speck showed on the frozen snow, and the speck was
+moving.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers lay on the bare patch of ground, as silent
+and immovable as the rock above him. The speck
+was too large to be a single animal and too small to be
+a pack of travelling caribou.
+</p>
+<p>
+For several minutes he lay, scarcely breathing, his
+eyes straining to bring the speck into comprehensible
+shape. His breath began to come rapidly. Presently
+he swore. The speck had become two specks now, a
+long narrow speck and a tiny one which moved beside
+it, and they were coming steadily up the valley
+toward where he lay.
+</p>
+<p>
+“One man and a dog-team,” mused Reivers. “He
+won’t be travelling here without grub. Body, wake
+up! You are crying for food. Yonder it comes.
+Get ready to take it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Slowly, with long pauses between each movement,
+and taking care not to place his dark body against
+the white snow, Reivers dragged himself around to
+a hiding-place behind the boulder against which he
+had slept. The sun had risen higher now. Its rays
+were lighting the valley, and as he peered avidly around
+one side of the stone, Reivers could make out some
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span>
+detail of the two specks that moved so steadily toward
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a four-dog team, travelling rapidly, and the
+man, on snow-shoes, travelled beside his team and
+plied his whip as he strode. Reivers’ brows drew
+down in puzzled fashion. The sledge which whirled
+behind the running dogs seemed flat and unloaded;
+the dogs ran in a fashion that told they were strong
+and fresh. Why didn’t the man ride?
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers drew back to take stock of the situation.
+The man might be a stranger, travelling hurriedly
+through the Dead Lands, or he might be one of the
+men from Cameron-Dam Camp. If the former, food
+might be had for a mere hail and the asking; if the
+latter—Reivers’s nostrils widened and he smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet a third possibility existed. The man was
+travelling in strange fashion, running beside an apparently
+empty sled, and whipping his dogs along. So
+did men travel when they were fleeing from various
+reasons, and men fleeing thus do not go unarmed nor
+take kindly to having the trail of their flight witnessed
+by casual though starving strangers. Thus
+there was one chance that a hail and plea for food
+would be met with a friendly response; two chances
+that they would be met with lead or steel.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers, not being a careless man, looked about for
+ways and means to place the odds in his favour. A
+hundred yards to the north of him the valley narrowed
+into a mere slit between two straight walls of rock.
+Through this gap the traveller must pass.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Reivers had crawled to a position on the rock
+directly above the narrow opening, he lay flat down
+and grinned in peace. He was securely hidden, and
+the dog-driver would pass unsuspectingly, unready,
+thirty feet beneath where he lay. Things were looking
+well.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+The driver and team came on at a steady pace.
+Even at a great distance, his stride betrayed his race
+and Reivers muttered, “White man,” and pushed to
+the edge of the bluff a huge, jagged piece of rock.
+The man might not listen to reason, and Reivers
+was taking no chances of allowing an opportunity to
+feed to slip by.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sleigh still puzzled him. As it came nearer
+and nearer he saw that it was not empty. Something
+long and flat lay upon it. Reivers ceased to watch
+the driver and turned his scrutiny entirely to the
+bundle upon the sleigh. Minute after minute he
+watched the sleigh to the exclusion of everything else.
+</p>
+<p>
+He made out eventually that the bundle was the
+size and form of a human body. Soon he saw that
+it moved now and then, as if struggling to rise.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sleigh came nearer, came into a space where
+the sunlight, streaming through a gap in the ridge,
+lighted it up brightly, and Reivers’ whole body suddenly
+stiffened upon the ground and his teeth snapped
+shut barely in time to cut short an ejaculation of
+surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+The bundle on the sleigh was a woman—a white
+woman! And she was bound around from ankle to
+forehead with thongs passed under the sleigh.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Food—and a woman—a white woman,” he mused.
+“The new life becomes interesting. Body, get ready.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He held the rock balanced on the edge of the cliff,
+ready to hurl it down with one supreme effort of his
+waning strength. Hugging the cliff he lay, his head
+barely raised sufficiently to watch his approaching
+quarry. He could make out the face of the man by
+this time, a square face, mostly covered with hair, with
+the square-cut hair of the head hanging down below
+the ears. Two fang-like teeth glistened in the sunlight
+when the man opened his mouth to curse at
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span>
+the dogs, and he turned at times to leer back at the
+helpless burden on the sleigh.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he approached the narrow defile, where the rock
+walls hid a man and what he might do from the
+eyes of all but the sky above, the man turned to look
+more frequently, more leeringly at his victim. Reivers
+saw that the woman was gagged as well as bound.
+</p>
+<p>
+The driver shouted a command at his dogs, and
+their lope became a walk, and even as Reivers, up
+on the cliff, arched his back to hurl his stone, the
+outfit came to a halt directly beneath where he lay.
+Reivers waited. He had no compunction about disabling
+or killing the man below; a crying belly knows
+no conscience. But he would wait and see what was
+to develop.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man swiftly jerked his team back in the traces
+and turned toward his victim. Reivers, turning his
+eyes from the man to the woman, received a shock
+which caused him to hug closer to the cliff. The
+woman lay helpless on the sleigh, face up. A cloth
+gag covered her face up to the nose, and a cap, drawn
+down over the forehead, left only the eyes and nose
+visible. And the eyes were wide open—very wide
+open—and they were looking quite calmly and unafraid
+up at Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+The driver came back and tore the gag from the
+woman’s lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll give you a chance,” he exploded, and Reivers,
+up on the cliff, caught the passion-choked note in
+voice and again held the stone ready. “I’m stealing
+you for the chief—for Shanty Moir, the man who’s
+got your father’s mine, and who’s determined to put
+shame on you, Red MacGregor’s daughter. I’m taking
+you there to him—in his camp. You know what
+that means.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I—I’ll give you a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span>
+chance. I’ll save you. Come with me. I won’t take
+you up there. We’ll go out of the country. You
+know what it’d mean to go up there. Well,—I’ll
+marry you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Many things happened in the next few seconds.
+The man threw himself like a wild beast beside the
+sledge, caught the woman’s face in his hands and
+kissed her bestially upon the helpless lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl did not struggle or cry out. Only her
+wide eyes looked up to the top of the cliff, looked
+questioningly, speculatively, calmly. He of the hairy
+face caught the direction of her look and sprang up
+and whirled around, the glove flying from his right
+hand, and a six-shooter leaping into it apparently
+from nowhere.
+</p>
+<p>
+His face was upturned, and he fired even as the
+big rock smote him on the forehead and crushed him
+shapelessly into the snow. Reivers dragged forward
+another stone and waited, but the man was too obviously
+dead to render caution necessary.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He was experienced and quick,” said Reivers to
+the woman, “but I was too hungry to miss him. Did
+you think I did it to save you? Oh, no! Just a minute,
+till I get down; you’ll know me better.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He staggered and fell as he rose to pick his way
+down, for the cast with the heavy stone had tapped
+the last reservoirs of his depleted strength, had
+wrenched open the wounded shoulder and started
+the blood. Painfully he dragged himself on hands
+and knees to a snow-covered slope, and slipping and
+sliding made his way to the valley-bottom and came
+staggering up to the sledge. The woman to him for
+the time being did not exist.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Steady, Body,” he muttered, as he tore open the
+grub-bag on the sleigh. “Here’s food.”
+</p>
+<p>
+His fingers fell first on a huge chunk of cooked
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span>
+venison, and he looked no farther. Down in the
+snow at the side of the helpless woman he squatted
+and proceeded to eat. Only when the pang in his
+stomach had been appeased did he look at the woman.
+Then, for a time, he forgot about eating.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not a woman but a girl. Her face was fair
+and her hair golden red. Her big eyes were looking
+at him appraisingly. There was no fear in them, no
+apprehension. She noted the hollowness of his cheeks,
+the fever in his eyes. Reivers almost dropped his
+meat in amazement. The girl actually was pitying
+him!
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood up, thrust the meat back into the grub-bag
+and stood swaying and towering over her. The girl’s
+eyes looked back unwaveringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“—— you!” growled Reivers as he bent down and
+loosed the thongs. “What do you mean? Why aren’t
+you afraid?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“MacGregor Roy was my father,” she said quietly.
+“I am not afraid.” She sat up as the bonds fell from
+her and looked at the still figure in the snow. “He
+is dead, I suppose?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“As dead as he tried to make me,” sneered Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+A look of annoyance crossed her face.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then you have spoiled it all,” she broke out, leaping
+from the sledge. “Spoiled the fine chance I had
+to find the cave of Shanty Moir, murderer of my
+father.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ jaw dropped in amazement, and hot anger
+surged to his tongue. Many women of many kinds
+he had looked in the eyes and this was the first one—
+</p>
+<p>
+“Spoiled it, you red-haired trull! What do you
+mean? Didn’t I save you from our bearded friend
+yonder. Or—” his thin lips curled into their old
+contemptuous smile—“or perhaps—perhaps you are
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span>
+one of those to whom such attentions are not distasteful.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The sudden flare and flash of her anger breaking,
+like lightning out of a Winter’s sky, checked his words.
+The contempt of his smile gave place to a grin of admiration.
+Tottering and wavering on his feet, he
+did not stir or raise his arms, though the thin-bladed
+knife which seemed to spring into her hands as claws
+protrude from a maddened cat’s paws, slipped through
+his mackinaw and pricked the skin above his heart,
+before her hand stopped.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Trull’ am I? The daughter of MacGregor Roy
+is a helpless squaw who takes kindly to such words
+from any man on the trail? Blood o’ my father!
+Pray, you cowardly skulker! Pray!”
+</p>
+<p>
+His grin grew broader.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pretty, very pretty!” he drawled. “But you can’t
+make it good, can you? You thought you could.
+Your little flare of temper made you feel big. You
+were sure you were going to stick me. But you
+couldn’t do it. You’re a woman. See; your flash of
+bigness is dying out. You’re growing tame. That’s
+one of my specialties—taming spitfires like you. Oh,
+you needn’t draw back. Have no fear. I never did
+have any taste for red hair.”
+</p>
+<p>
+A painter would have raved about the daughter of
+MacGregor Roy as she now stood back, facing her tormentor.
+The fair skin of her face was flushed red,
+the thin sharp lines of mouth and nostril were tremulous
+with rage, and her wide, grey eyes burned. Her
+head was thrown back in scorn, her cap was off; the
+glorious red-golden hair of her head seemed alive
+with fury. With one foot advanced, the knife held
+behind her, her breath coming in angry gasps, she
+stood, a figure passionately, terribly alive in the dead
+waste of the snows.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, what a coward you are!” she panted. “You
+knew I couldn’t avenge myself on a sick man. You
+coward!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed drunkenly. The fever was blurring
+his sight, dulling his brain and filling him with an
+irresistible desire to lie down.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, I knew it,” he mumbled. “I saw it in your
+eye. You couldn’t do it—because I didn’t want you
+to. I want you—I want you to fix me up—hole in
+the shoulder—fever—understand?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I understand that when Duncan Roy, my father’s
+brother, catches up with us he will save me the trouble
+by putting a hole through your head.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Plenty of time for that later on.” Reivers fought
+off the stupor and held his senses clear for a moment.
+“Have you got my whisky?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And what if I have?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Answer me!” he said icily. “Have you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Duncan Roy has whisky,” she replied reluctantly.
+“He will be on our trail now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“How long—how long before he’ll get here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yon beast—” she nodded her head toward the still
+figure in the snow—“raided our camp, struck me down
+and stole me away with my team two hours before
+sundown, yestere’en. Duncan Roy was out meat-hunting,
+and would be back by dark. He’ll be two
+hours behind us, and his dogs travel even with these.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Two hours? Too long,” groaned Reivers and
+pitched headlong into the snow.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE WOMAN’S WAY</h2>
+<p>
+When he came to, it was from the bite and sting
+of the terrible white whisky of the North, being
+poured down his throat by a rude, generous hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye; he’s no’ dead,” rumbled a voice like unto a
+bear’s growl. “He lappit the liquor though his eye’s
+closed. Hoot, man! Ye take it in like mother’s milk.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have done, Uncle Duncan,” warned another voice—the
+bold, free voice of the girl, Reivers in his semi-consciousness
+made out. “’Tis a sick man. Don’t
+give him the whole bottle.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Let be, let be,” grumbled the big voice, but nevertheless
+Reivers felt the bottle withdrawn from his
+lips. “’Tis no tender child that a good drink of liquor
+would hurt that we have here. Do you not note that
+mouth and jaw? I’m little more pleased with the look
+of him than with yon thing in the snow.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis a sick, helpless being,” said the girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+The big voice rumbled forth an oath.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And what have we—you and I—to do with sick,
+helpless beings? Are we not on the trail to find Shanty
+Moir, who is working your father’s mine, wherever
+it is, and there take vengeance on said Shanty for
+your father’s murder, as well as recover your own
+property? Is this a trail on which ’tis fit and well
+we halted to nurse and care for sick, helpless beings?
+Blood of the de’il! An unlucky mess! What
+business has man to be sick and ailing on the Winter
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span>
+trail here in the North? ’Tis the law of Nature that
+such die!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And do you think that law will be followed here?”
+demanded the girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Were I alone, it would,” retorted the man. “Our
+task is to find the place of Shanty Moir and do him
+justice.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And the hospitality of the MacGregors? Is it
+like Duncan Roy to see beast or man needing or wanting
+help without stretching his hand to help it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The man was silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you think any good could come to you or me
+if we turned our hearts to stones and let a sick man
+perish after he had fallen helpless on our hands?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I tell you what I think, Hattie MacGregor,” broke
+out the big voice. “I think there is trouble travelling
+as trail-fellow with this man. I see trouble in the
+cut of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. There
+is a fate written there; he’s a fated man and no else,
+and nothing would please me better than to have him
+a thousand days mushing away from me and never to
+see him again. Trouble and trouble! It’s written
+on him plain.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Who is he? Whence came he? Why is he alone,
+dogless, foodless, weaponless, here in these Dead
+Lands! ’Tis uncanny. Blood o’ the de’il! He might
+be dropped down from somewhere, or more like shot
+up from somewhere—from the black pit, for instance.
+It’s no’ proper for mere human being to be found in
+his condition out this far on the barrens, with no sign
+of how he came or why?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have no fear, Uncle Duncan,” laughed the girl.
+“He’s only a common man.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers opened his eyes, chuckling feverishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ll pay for that ‘common,’ you spitfire, when
+I’ve tamed you,” he mumbled.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Only a common man, Uncle Duncan,” repeated
+the girl steadfastly, “and I’ve a bone to pick with him
+when he’s on his feet, no longer helpless and pitiable
+as he is now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Again Reivers laughed through the haze of fever.
+He did not have the strength to hold his eyes open,
+but his mind worked on.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Helpless! Did you notice the incident of the
+rock?” he babbled. “Bare, primitive, two-handed man
+against a man with a gun. Who won?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said the man seriously, “we owe you thanks
+for that. For a helpless man, you deal stout knocks.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And speak big words,” snapped the girl. “Now,
+around with the teams, Uncle Duncan, and back to
+camp. There’s been talk enough. We must take him
+in and shelter and care for him, since he has fallen
+helpless and pitiable on our hands. We owe him no
+thanks. Can you not lay his head easier—the boasting
+fool! There; that’s better. Now, all that the
+dogs can stand, Uncle, for I misdoubt we’ll be hard-pressed
+to keep the life in him till we get him back to
+camp.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers heard and strove to reply. But the paralysis
+of fever and weakness was upon him, and all that
+came from his lips was an incoherent babbling. In
+the last vapoury stages of consciousness he realised
+that he was being placed more comfortably upon the
+sledge, that his head was being lifted and that blankets
+were being strapped about him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He felt the sledge being turned, heard the runners
+grate on the snow; then ensued an easy, sliding movement
+through space, as the rested dogs started their
+lope back through the valley. The movement soothed
+him. It lulled him to a sensation of safety and
+comfort.
+</p>
+<p>
+The phantasmagoria of fever pounded at his brain,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span>
+his eyes and ears, but the steady, swishing rush of the
+sleigh drove them away. He slept, and awoke when
+a halt was called and more whisky forced down his
+throat. Then he slept again.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were several halts. Once he realised that
+he was being fed thin soup, made from cooked venison
+and snow-water. That was the last impression
+made on remaining consciousness. After that the
+thread snapped.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sledges went on. They left the valley.
+Through the jumbled ridges of the Dead Lands they
+hurried. They reached a stretch of stunted fir, and
+still they continued to go. At length they pulled
+up before a solid little cabin built in a cleft of rocks.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Snow Burner was carried in and put to bed.
+After a rest Duncan Roy and the fresher of the dogteams
+took the trail again. They came, back after
+a day and a night, bringing with them a certain Père
+Batiste, skilled in treating fevers and wounds of the
+body as well as of the soul. The good curé gasped at
+the torso which revealed itself to his gaze as he stripped
+off the clothes to work at the wound.
+</p>
+<p>
+“If <i>le bon Dieu</i> made him as well inside as outside,
+this is a very good man,” he said simply; and Duncan
+MacGregor smiled grimly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“God—or the de’il—made him to deal stout knocks,
+that’s sure,” he grunted. “’Tis a rare animal we have
+stripped before us.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A rare human being—a soul,” reproved Father
+Batiste. “And it is <i>le bon Dieu</i> who makes us all.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But the de’il gets hold of some very young,” insisted
+the Scotchman.
+</p>
+<p>
+Father Batiste stayed in the cabin for two days.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He was not meant to die this time,” he said later.
+“It will be long—weeks perhaps—before he will be
+strong enough to take the trail. He will need care,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span>
+such care as only a woman can give him. If he does
+not have this care he will die. If he does have it he
+will live. <i>Adieu</i>, my children; you have a sacred, human
+life in your hands.”
+</p>
+<p>
+And he got the care that only a woman could give
+him. For the next two weeks Duncan MacGregor
+watched his niece’s devoted nursing and gnawed his
+red beard gloomily.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Trouble—trouble—trouble!” he muttered over and
+over to himself. “It rides around the man’s head
+like a storm-cap. Hattie MacGregor, take care. Yon
+man will be a different creature to handle when he
+has the strength back in his body.”
+</p>
+<p>
+At the end of a week Reivers awoke as a man wakes
+after a long, fever-breaking slumber, weak and wasted,
+yet with a grateful sense of comfort and well-being.
+Before he opened his eyes he sensed by the warmth
+and odours of the air that he was in a small, tight
+room, and in a haze he fancied that he had fallen
+in the tepee of Tillie, the squaw. Then he remembered.
+He opened his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was lying in a bunk, raised high from the floor,
+and above the foot of the bed was a small window,
+shaded by a frilled white curtain. Reivers lay long
+and looked at the curtain before his eyes moved to
+further explore the room. For once, long, long ago,
+he had belonged in a world where white frilled curtains
+and frills of other kinds were not an exception.
+</p>
+<p>
+In his physically washed-out condition his memory
+reached back and pictured that world with uncanny
+clearness, and he turned from the curtain with
+a frown of annoyance to look straight into the eyes
+of Duncan Roy, who sat by the fireplace across the
+room and studied him from beneath shaggy red
+brows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked the man over idly at first, then with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span>
+a considerable interest and appreciation. Sitting
+crouched over on a low stone bench, with the light
+of the fire and of the sun upon him, MacGregor resembled
+nothing so much as an old red-haired bear.
+He was short of leg and bow-legged, but his torso
+and head were enormous. His arms, folded across
+the knees, were bear-like in length and size, and his
+hair and beard flamed golden red.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was no friendliness in the small, grey eyes
+which regarded Reivers so steadily. Duncan MacGregor
+was no man to hide his true feelings. Reivers
+looked enquiringly around.
+</p>
+<p>
+“She’s stepped outside to feed the dogs,” said MacGregor,
+interpreting the look. “You’ll have to put up
+with my poor company for the time being.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I accept your apology,” said Reivers and turned
+comfortably toward the wall.
+</p>
+<p>
+A deep, chesty chuckle came from the fireside.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man, whoever are you or whatever are you, to
+take it that Duncan MacGregor feels any need to
+apologise to you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The words were further balm to Reivers’s new-found
+feeling of comfort and content.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Say that again, please,” he requested drowsily.
+</p>
+<p>
+Laughingly the giant by the fire repeated his query.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good!” murmured Reivers. “I just wanted to be
+sure that you didn’t know who I am—or, rather, who
+I was?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Blood o’ the de’il!” laughed the Scotchman. “So
+it’s that, is it? Tell me, how much reward is there
+offered for you, dead or alive? I’m a thrifty man,
+lad, and you hardly look like a man who’d have a
+small price on his head.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wrong, quite wrong, my suspicious friend,” said
+Reivers. “I see you’ve the simple mind of the man
+who’s spent much time in lone places. You jump at
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>
+the natural conclusion. When you know me better
+you’ll know that that won’t apply to me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” drawled the Scotchman good-naturedly,
+“I do not say that it looks suspicious to be found
+a two-days’ march out in the Dead Lands, without
+food, dog, or weapons, with an empty belly and a
+hole through the shoulder, but there are people who
+might draw the conclusion that a man so fixed was
+travelling because some place behind him was mighty
+bad for his health. But I have no doubt you have an
+explanation? No doubt ’tis quite the way you prefer
+to travel?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Under certain circumstances, it is,” said Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye; under certain circumstances. Such as an
+affair with a ‘Redcoat,’ for instance.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wrong again, my simple-minded friend. You’re
+quite welcome to bring the whole Mounted Police here
+to look me over. I’m not on their lists, or the lists
+of any authority in the world, as ‘wanted.’”
+</p>
+<p>
+“For that insult—that I’m of the kind that bears
+tales to the police—I’ll have an accounting with you
+later on,” said MacGregor sharply. “For the rest—you’ll
+admit that you’re under some small obligation
+to us—will you be kind enough to explain what
+lay behind you that you should be out on the barrens
+in your condition? I’ll have you know that I am no
+man to ask pay for succouring the sick or wounded.
+Neither am I the man to let any well man be near-speaking
+with my ward and niece, Hattie MacGregor,
+without I know what’s the straight of him.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers turned luxuriously in his bunk and regarded
+his inquisitor with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Poor, dainty, helpless, little lady!” he mocked.
+“So weak and frail that she needs a protector. Never
+carries anything more than an eight-inch knife up
+her sleeve. You do right, MacGregor; your niece
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span>
+certainly needs looking after. She certainly doesn’t
+know how to take care of herself.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But about obligations, I don’t quite agree with
+you. Didn’t you owe me a little something for that
+turn with the bearded fellow? Not that I did it
+to save the girl,” he continued loudly, as he heard
+the door open behind him and knew that Hattie MacGregor
+had entered. “What was she to me? Nothing!
+But I was hungry. I needed food. But for
+that our black-bearded friend might now have been
+wandering care-free over the snows, a red-haired
+woman still strapped to his sledge, his taste seeming
+to run to that colour, which mine does not.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Hattie MacGregor stilled her uncle’s retort with a
+shake of her golden-red head, crossed to the fireplace
+and took up a bowl that was simmering there, and
+approached the bed. Reivers looked at her closely,
+striving to catch her eye, but she seated herself beside
+him without apparently paying the slightest attention.
+She spoke no word, made no sign to welcome him
+back from his unconsciousness, but merely held a
+spoonful of the steaming broth up to his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a certain dexterity in her movements
+which told that she had performed this action many,
+many times before, and there was nothing in her manner
+to indicate her sensibility of the change in his
+condition. Reivers opened his mouth to laugh, and
+the girl dexterously tilted the contents of the spoon
+down his throat.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You fool!” he sputtered, half strangling.
+</p>
+<p>
+He strove to rise, but her round, warm arm held
+him down. Over by the fireplace Duncan MacGregor
+slapped his thigh and chuckled deep down in his hairy
+throat, but on the face of his niece there was only
+the determined patience of the nurse dealing with a
+patient not yet entirely responsible for his behaviour.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+She was not surprised at his outbreak, Reivers saw.
+Apparently she had fed him many times just so—he
+utterly helpless and childish, she capable and calm.
+Apparently she was determined to sit there, firm and
+patient, until he was ready to take his broth quietly
+and without fuss.
+</p>
+<p>
+Indignantly he raised his hands to take the bowl
+from her; then he opened his eyes wide in surprise.
+He was so weak that he could barely lift his arms,
+and when she offered him a second spoonful he swallowed
+it without further demur.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, well, we’ll soon be able to take the trail again,”
+drawled MacGregor mockingly. “We’re getting
+strong now; soon we’ll be able to eat with our own
+hands.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hold tongue, Uncle,” snapped the girl, and continued
+to feed her patient.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I suppose I must thank you?” taunted Reivers,
+when the bowl was empty.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hattie MacGregor made no sign to indicate that
+she had heard. She put the bowl away, felt Reivers’
+pulse, laid her hand upon his forehead—never looking
+at him the while—arranged the pillows under
+his head, tucked him in and without speaking went
+out. Reivers’ eyes followed her till the door closed
+behind her.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The little spitfire!” he growled in grudging admiration;
+and Duncan MacGregor, by the fire, laughed
+till the room echoed.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—GOLD!</h2>
+<p>
+Next morning when she came to feed him
+Reivers angrily reached for the bowl. He was
+stronger than the day before, and he held his hands
+forth without trembling.
+</p>
+<p>
+“There’s no need of your feeding me by hand any
+longer,” said he. “I assure you I’ll enjoy my food
+much better alone than I do with you feeding me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl seated herself at the bunk-side, holding
+the bowl out of his reach, and looked him quietly
+in the eyes. It was the first time she had appeared
+to notice his return to consciousness, and Reivers
+smiled quizzically at her scrutiny. She did not smile
+in return, merely studied him as if he were an interesting
+subject.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the grey light of morning Reivers for the first
+time saw her with eyes cleared of the fever blur.
+His smile vanished, for he saw that this woman, to
+him, was different from any woman he ever had
+known before. And he had known many.
+</p>
+<p>
+In her wide grey eyes there rode a sorrow that
+reached out and held the observer, despite her evident
+efforts to keep it hidden. But the mouth belied the
+eyes. It was set with an expression of determination,
+almost superhuman, almost savage. It was as if this
+girl, just rounding her twenties, had turned herself
+into a force for the accomplishment of an object. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span>
+mouth was harsh, almost lipless, in its set. Yet, beneath
+all this, the woman in Hattie MacGregor was
+obvious, soft, yearning.
+</p>
+<p>
+Many women had had a part in Reivers’ life—far
+too many. None of them had held his interests longer
+than for a few months; none of them had he failed
+to tame and break. And none of them had reached
+below the hard husk of him and touched the better
+man as Hattie MacGregor did at this moment. His
+past experiences, his past attitude toward women, his
+past manner of life, flashed through his mind, each
+picture bringing with it a stab of remorse.
+</p>
+<p>
+Remorse! The Snow Burner remorseful! He
+laughed his old laugh of contempt and defiance of
+all the world, but, though he refused to acknowledge
+it to himself, the old, invincible, self-assured ring was
+not in it. This girl was not to him what other women
+had been, and he saw that he could not tame her as
+he had tamed them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wished that
+the past had been different. He actually felt unworthy.
+Well, the past was past. It had died with
+him in the river. He was beginning a new life, a
+new name, a new man. Why couldn’t he? He drove
+the weak thoughts away. What nonsense! He—Hell-Camp
+Reivers—getting soft over a woman?
+Pooh!
+</p>
+<p>
+“I said I could feed myself,” he snarled. “Give
+me that bowl. I don’t want you around.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For reply she dipped the spoon into the food and
+held it ready.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Lie down quietly, please,” she said coldly. “This
+is no time for keeping up your play of being a big
+man.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Give me that bowl,” he commanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Uncle,” she called quietly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Her big kinsman came lurching in from the other
+room of the cabin.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, lass?” said he.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It looks as if we would have to obey Father
+Batiste’s directions and feed him by force,” said the
+girl quietly. “He has come out of the fever, but he
+hasn’t got his senses back. He thinks of feeding
+himself. Do you get the straps, Uncle. You recollect
+Father Batiste’s orders.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Duncan MacGregor scratched his hairy head in
+puzzled fashion.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How now, stranger?” he growled. “Can you no
+take your food in peace?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I can take it without anybody’s help,” insisted
+Reivers. He knew that the situation was ridiculous,
+but he saw no way of getting the whip-hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“It was the word of the good Father, without
+whom you would now be resting out in the snow with
+a cairn of rock over you, that you should be fed so
+much and so little for some days after your senses
+come back,” said MacGregor slowly. “I do not ken
+the right of it quite, but the lass does. The lass—she’ll
+have her way, I suspect. I can do naught but
+obey her orders.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get the straps,” commanded the girl curtly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers glared at her, but she looked back without
+the least losing her self-possession or determination.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ll pay for this!” he snorted.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Will you take your food without the straps?” said
+she.
+</p>
+<p>
+For a minute their eyes met in conflict.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Reivers. “Have
+your silly way.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good. That’s a good boy,” she said softly; and
+Duncan Roy ran from the room choking.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You see,” she continued, as he swallowed the first
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span>
+spoonful, “it isn’t always possible to have your own
+way, is it? I am doing this only for your own good.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hold your tongue,” he growled. “I’ve got to eat
+this food, but I don’t have to listen to your talk.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Quite right,” she agreed, and the meal was finished
+in silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+At noon she fed him again, without speaking a
+word. Apparently she had given her uncle orders
+likewise to refrain from talking to Reivers, for not
+a word did he speak during the day.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the evening the same silent feeding took place.
+After she and her uncle had supped, they drew up to
+the fireplace, where, in silence, Duncan repaired a dog-harness
+while the girl sewed busily at a fur coat. At
+short intervals the uncle cast a look toward Reivers’
+bunk, then choked a chuckle in his beard, each chuckle
+bringing a glance of reproof from his niece.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, Hattie,” MacGregor broke out finally, “I cannot
+hold tongue any longer. Company is no’ so plentiful
+in the North that we can sit by and have no
+speech. Do you keep still if you wish—I must talk.
+Stranger, are you going to tell me about yoursel’, as
+I asked you yestereve?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Does her Royal Highness, the Red-Headed Chieftainess,
+permit me to speak?” queried Reivers sarcastically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Twas your own sel’ told me to hold tongue,” said
+the girl evenly, without looking up. “I am glad to
+see you are reasonable enough to give in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Let be, Hattie,” grumbled the old man. “He’s our
+guest, and we in his debt. Stranger, who are you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nobody,” said Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah!” cried the girl. “Now he’s come to his senses,
+sure enough.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hattie!” said the old man ominously. “I beg pardon
+for her uncivility, stranger.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Never mind,” said Reivers lightly. “Apparently
+she doesn’t know any better. Speaking to you, sir,
+I am nobody. I’m as much nobody as a child born
+yesterday. My life—as far as you’re concerned—began
+up there on the rocks in the Dead Lands.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I died just a few days before that—died as effectively
+as if a dozen preachers had read the service
+over me. You don’t understand that. You’ve got a
+simple mind. But I tell you I’m beginning a new
+life as completely as if there was no life behind me,
+and as you know all that’s happened in this new life,
+you see there’s nothing for me to tell you about myself.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You died,” repeated the old man slowly. “I’ll warrant
+you had a good reason.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A fair one. I wanted to live. I died to save my
+life.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Speak plain!” growled MacGregor. “You were
+not fleeing from the law?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No—as I told you yesterday. The only law I was
+fleeing from was the good old one that cheap men
+make when they become a mob.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I tak’ it they had a fair reason for becoming a
+mob?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The best in the world,” agreed Reivers. “They
+wanted to kill me. Now, why they wanted to do that
+is something that belongs to my other life—with the
+other man—has nothing at all to do with this man—with
+me—and therefore I am not going to tell you
+anything about it, except this: I didn’t come away
+with anything that belonged to them, except possibly
+my life.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor nodded sagely as Reivers ended.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And his own bare life a man has a right to get
+away with if he can, even though it’s property
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>
+forfeited to others,” he said. “I suppose you have, or
+had, a name?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I did. I haven’t now; I haven’t thought of one
+that would please me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“How would the ‘Woman Tamer’ suit you?” asked
+the girl, without pausing in her sewing. “You remember
+you told me one of your specialties was
+taming spitfires like me?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I am glad to see that you’ve become sufficiently interested
+in me, Miss MacGregor, to select me a name.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Interested!” she flared; then subsided and bent
+over her sewing. “I will speak no more, Uncle,” she
+said meekly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good!” sneered Reivers. “Your manners are improving.
+And now, Mr. MacGregor, what about yourselves,
+and your brother, and a mine, and a man
+named Moir that I’ve heard you speak of?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Duncan MacGregor tossed a fresh birch chunk into
+the fire and carefully poked the coals around it. Outside,
+the dogs, burrowing in the snow, sent up to
+the sky their weird night-cry, a cry of prayer and
+protest, protest against the darkness and mystery
+of night, prayer for the return of the light of day.
+A wind sprang up and whipped dry snow against the
+cabin window, and to the sound of its swishing wail
+Duncan MacGregor began to speak.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Little as you’ve seen fit to tell about yourself,
+stranger,” he said, “’tis plain from your behaviour
+out on the rocks that you’re no man of that foul Welsh
+cutthroat and thief, Shanty Moir. For the manner
+in which you dealt with yon man, we owe you a
+debt.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“We owe him nothing,” interrupted the niece.
+“Had he not interfered, I would have found the way
+to Shanty Moir.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“But as how?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What matter as how? What matter what happens
+to me if I could find what has become of my
+father and bring justice to the head of Shanty Moir?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We owe you a debt,” he continued, speaking to
+Reivers, “and can not refuse to tell you how it is
+with us. It is no pleasant situation we are in, as
+you may have judged. My brother, father of Hattie,
+is—or was, we do not know which—James MacGregor,
+‘Red’ MacGregor so-called in this land, therefore
+MacGregor Roy, as is all our breed. You would
+have heard of him did you belong in this country.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ten year ago we built this cabin, he and I, and
+settled down to trap the country, for the fur here
+is good. Five year ago a Cree half-breed gave James
+a sliver of rock to weight a net with, and the rock,
+curse it forever, was over half gold. The breed
+could not recall where the rock had come from, save
+that he had chucked it into his canoe some place up
+north.
+</p>
+<p>
+“James MacGregor stopped trapping then. He began
+to look for the spot where the gilty rock came
+from. Three years he looked and did not find it.
+Two years ago Shanty Moir came down the river and
+bided here, and Moir was a prospector among other
+things. Together they found it, after nearly two
+years looking together; for James took this Moir into
+partnership, and that was the unlucky day of his
+life.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor kicked savagely at the fire and sat silent
+for several minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Six months gone they found it,” he continued
+dully, “in the Summer time. They came in for provisions—for
+provisions for all Winter. A deposit
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span>
+for two men to work, they said. My brother would
+not even tell me where they found it. The gold had
+got into his brain. It was his life’s blood to him.
+We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He embraced the whole North with a despairing
+sweep of his long arms and continued:
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone,
+to dig out the gold, the two of them, my brother, James,
+and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty Moir. For foul he
+has proven. In three months my brother had promised
+he would be back to say all was well with him.
+We have had no word, no word in these many months.
+</p>
+<p>
+“But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have
+heard of him. At Fifty Mile, and at Dumont’s Camp
+he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across the
+bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king
+of the richest deposit in the North, and offering to
+kill any man who offers to follow his trail to his
+holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must
+mean only one thing—the cut-throat Moir has done
+my brother to death and is flourishing on the gold
+that drew James MacGregor to his doom.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” he went on harshly, “what men have found
+others can find. We have sent word broadcast that
+we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings, and that
+I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting
+that will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes
+me the rest of my life.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And mine,” interjected the girl hotly. “Shanty
+Moir is mine, and I take toll for my father’s life.
+It’s no matter what comes to me, if I can bring justice
+to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my
+father. My hand—my own hand will take toll when
+we run the dog to earth.”
+</p>
+<p>
+In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ve a good notion to go hunting this Moir and
+bring him to you just to see if you could make those
+words good,” said he. “With your own hand, eh?
+You’d fail, of course, at the last moment, being a
+woman, but it would almost be worth while getting
+this Moir for you to see what you’d do. Yes, it would
+be an interesting experiment.”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the girl’s turn to laugh now, her laughter
+mocking his.
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Twould be interesting to see what you would do
+did you stand face to face with Shanty Moir,” she
+sneered. “Yes, ’twould be an interesting experiment—to
+see how you’d crawl. For this can be said of the
+villain, Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men
+to get help from women. You bring Shanty Moir in!
+How would you do it—with your mouth?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“On second thought it would be cruel and unusual
+punishment to make any man listen to your tongue,”
+concluded Reivers solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor growled and shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“There’s no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black
+heart is a hard-grown, experienced man,” said he.
+“Henchmen of his—three of them, Welshmen all—came
+through here while James and he were hunting
+the mine, and he treated them like dogs and they
+him like a chieftain. ’Twas one of them you slew
+with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain:
+Shanty Moir has got word to them and they have
+come to the mine and overpowered my brother James.
+You may judge of the strong hand he holds over
+his men when a single one of them dares to raid my
+camp in my absence and steal the daughter of James
+MacGregor for his chieftain—a strong, big man.
+’Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He
+will die hard.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Also—being of a thrifty breed—you won’t feel
+sorry at getting hold of whatever gold he’s taken out,”
+suggested Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s understood,” said MacGregor, and put a
+fresh chunk on the fire for the night.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span><a name='chXXVI' id='chXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI—THE LOOK IN A WOMAN’S EYES</h2>
+<p>
+Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had
+fed him his morning’s meal, said casually
+to Reivers:
+</p>
+<p>
+“You have about six days more to pump my uncle
+and get all he knows about my father’s mine. In
+six days you should be strong enough to travel, and
+so long and no longer do I keep you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Six days?” repeated Reivers. “I may take it into
+my head to start before.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And that’s all the good that would do you,” she
+replied promptly. “You don’t go from here until
+you are firm on your feet, and that will be six days,
+about.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your interest flatters me,” he mocked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Interest!” Her laugh was bitter. “No stray,
+wounded cur even goes from this camp till he’s fit
+to rustle a living on the trail. I could do no less even
+for you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And if I should make up my mind and go?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I would shoot you if necessary to keep you here
+till my duty by you is done!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You spitfire!” laughed Reivers, hiding the admiration
+that leaped into his eyes. “And what makes
+you think I’m going hunting for this alleged mine
+when I depart from your too warm hospitality?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pooh! ’Tis easy enough to see that you’re that
+kind—you with your long, hungry nose! I was watching
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span>
+you when my uncle babbled away last night.
+You’ve naught a thing in the world but the clothes
+you stand in. What would you do but go snooping
+around when you hear of gold? I see it in your
+mean eyes. Well, seek all you please. You’re welcome.
+You’ll not interfere with our quest. In the
+first place, you have not the heart to stay on the
+trail long enough to succeed; in the second, you’d back-track
+quick enough did you once come face to face
+with Shanty Moir.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you—I suppose this bad man, Shanty Moir,
+will quail when he sees your red hair? Or perhaps
+you expect to charm him as you charmed the gentleman
+who had you tied on the sledge?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I do not know that,” she said without irritation.
+“But I do know that my uncle and I will run Shanty
+Moir to earth, and that he will pay in full for the
+wrong he has done.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You silly, childish fool!” he broke out. “Haven’t
+you brains enough to realise what an impossible wild-goose
+chase you’re on? Since it took your father five
+years to find the mine, you ought to realise that it’s
+pretty hard to locate. Since he didn’t find it until
+this Moir, a prospector, came to help him, you ought
+to understand that it takes a miner to find it.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re no miner. Your uncle is no miner. You’ve
+neither of you had the slightest experience in this
+sort of thing. You wouldn’t know the signs if you
+saw them. You’ll go wandering aimlessly around,
+maybe walking over Shanty Moir’s head; because,
+since nobody has stumbled across his camp, it must be
+so well hidden that it can’t be seen unless you know
+right where to look. Find it! You’re a couple of
+children!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mayhap. But we are not so aimless as you may
+think. We go to Fifty Mile and to Dumont’s Camp
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span>
+and stay. Sooner or later Shanty Moir will come
+there, to throw my father’s gold over the bars and
+to worse. It may be a month, a year—it doesn’t make
+any difference. But I suppose a great man like you
+has a quicker and surer way of doing it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I have,” said Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No doubt. I could see your eyes grow greedy
+when you heard my uncle tell of gold.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, no; not especially,” taunted Reivers. “The
+gold is an incident. Shanty Moir is what interests
+me. He seems to be a gentleman of parts. I’m
+going to get him. I’m going to bring you face to
+face with him. I want to see if you could make
+good the strong talk you’ve been dealing out as to
+what you would do. You interest me that way, Miss
+MacGregor, and that way only. It will be an interesting
+experiment to get you Shanty Moir.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Thank Heaven!” she said grimly. “We’ll soon
+be rid of you and your big talk. Then I can forget
+that any man gave me the name you gave me and
+lived to brag about it afterward.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He laughed, as one laughs at a petulant child.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You will never forget me,” he said. “You know
+that you will not forget me, if you live a thousand
+years.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I have forgotten better men than you,” she said
+and went out, slamming the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+That evening Reivers sat up by the fire and further
+plied old MacGregor with questions concerning the
+mine.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You say that your brother claimed the mine lay to
+the north,” he said. “I suppose you have searched
+the north first of all?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“For a month I have done nothing else,” was the
+reply. “I have not gone far enough north. My
+brother James said it lay north from here; and ’twas
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span>
+north he and Shanty Moir went when they started on
+their last trip together, from which my brother did
+not return or send word.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dumont’s Camp and Fifty Mile, where Moir’s
+been on sprees; lay to the west.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Northwest, aye. Four days’ hard mushing to Fifty
+Mile. Dumont’s hell-hole’s a day beyond.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you think the mine lies to the north of that?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye. More like in a direct line north of here,
+for ’twas so they went when they left here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers hid the smile of triumph that struggled
+on his lips. The Dead Lands were strange country
+to him, but in the land north of Fifty Mile he was at
+home. In his wanderings he had spent months in
+that country in company with many other deluded
+men who thought to dig gold out of the bare, frozen
+tundra. He had found no gold there, and neither
+had any one else. There was no gold up there, could
+be none there, and, what was more important to him
+just now, there was no rock formation, nothing but
+muskeg and tundra. The mine could not be up north.
+</p>
+<p>
+It must, however, be within easy mushing distance
+of Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp, say two or three
+days, else Shanty Moir would not have hied himself
+to these settlements when the need for riot and wassail
+overcame him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You know the ground between here and Fifty
+Mile, I suppose?” he said suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis my trapping-ground,” replied MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+So the mine couldn’t be east of the settlements. It
+was to the west or the south.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your brother was particularly careful to keep the
+location of his find secret even from you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye,” said MacGregor sorrowfully. “It had gone
+to his head, he had searched so long, and the find
+was so big. He took no chances that I might know
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span>
+it, or his daughter Hattie; only the thief, Shanty
+Moir.”
+</p>
+<p>
+And he said that the mine lay to the north. That
+might mean that it lay to the south—west or south
+of the settlements, there his search would lie. It was
+new country to him, and, as MacGregor well knew
+before he gave him his confidence, a man not knowing
+the land might wander aimlessly for years without
+covering those vast, broken reaches. But MacGregor
+did not know of the Chippewa squaw, Tillie,
+and her people.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And now I suppose you will be able to find it
+soon,” snapped Hattie MacGregor, “now that you
+have pumped my uncle dry?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I will,” said Reivers. “I’ll be there waiting for
+you when you come along.” And Duncan MacGregor
+chuckled deeply.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the remainder of his stay at the cabin, Reivers
+maintained a sullen silence toward the girl. Had she
+been different, had she affected him differently, he
+would have cursed her for daring to disturb him even
+to this slight extent. But he knew that if she had
+been different she would not have disturbed him at
+all. Well, he would soon be away, and then he
+would forget her.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had an object again. His nature was such
+that he craved power and dominance over men, as another
+man craves food. He would not live at all
+unless he had power. He had used this power too
+ruthlessly at Cameron-Dam Camp, and it had been
+wrested from him. For the time being he was down
+among the herd. But not for long.
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir had a mine some place south or west
+of the settlements, and the mine yielded gold nuggets
+and gold dust for Shanty Moir to fling across the
+bars. Gold spells power. Given gold, Reivers would
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span>
+have back his old-time power over men, aye, and
+over women. Not merely a power up there in the
+frozen North, but in the world to which he had long
+ago belonged: the world of men in dress clothes, of
+lights and soft rugs, or women, soft-speaking women,
+shimmery gowns and white shoulders, their eyes and
+apparel a constant invitation to the great adventure of
+love.
+</p>
+<p>
+After all, that was the world that he belonged in.
+And gold would give him power there, and in that
+whirl he would forget this red-haired, semi-savage who
+looked him in the eye as no other woman ever had
+dared. His fists clenched as his thoughts lighted up
+the future. The Snow-Burner had died, but he would
+live again, and he would forget, absolutely and completely,
+Hattie MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the morning of the sixth day Duncan MacGregor
+gravely placed before him outside the cabin door a
+pair of light snowshoes and a grub-bag filled with food
+for four days. Reivers strapped on the snowshoes
+and ran his arms through the bagstraps without a
+word.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Stranger,” said MacGregor, holding out his hand,
+“I did not like you when first I saw you. I do not
+say I like you now. But—shake hands.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers hurriedly shook hands and tore himself
+away. He had resolved to go without seeing Hattie,
+and he was inwardly raging at himself because he
+found this resolution hard to keep. He laid his course
+for the nearest rise of land, half a mile away. Once
+over the rise the cabin would be shut out of sight,
+and even though he should weaken and look back
+there would be no danger of letting her see.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bent far over, head down, lunging along with the
+cunning strides of the trained snowshoer, he topped
+the rise and dropped down on the farther side. There
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span>
+he paused to rest himself and draw breath, and as he
+stood there Hattie MacGregor and her dog-team swept
+at right angles across his trail.
+</p>
+<p>
+She was riding boy-fashion, half sitting, half lying,
+on the empty sledge, driving the dogs furiously for
+their daily exercise. She did not speak. She merely
+looked up at him as she went past. Then she was
+gone in a flurry of snow, and Reivers went forth on his
+quest of power with a curse on his lips and in his
+heart the determination that no weakening memories
+of a girl’s wistful eyes should interfere with his aim.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span><a name='chXXVII' id='chXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII—ON THE TRAIL OF FORTUNE</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers travelled steadily for an hour at the
+best pace that was in him. It was not a good
+pace, for he was far from being in his old physical
+condition, and the lift and swing of a snowshoe will
+cramp the calves and ankle-tendons of a man grown
+soft from long bed-lying, no matter how cunning
+may be his stride.
+</p>
+<p>
+He swore a little at first over his slow progress.
+He was like a wolf, suddenly released from a trap,
+who desires to travel far, swiftly and instantly, and
+who finds that the trap has made him lame.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers wanted to put the MacGregor cabin, and
+the scenes about it, which might remind him of Hattie,
+behind him with a rush. But the rush, he soon found,
+threatened to cripple him, so he must perforce give
+it up. The trail that he had set out to make was
+not one that any man, least of all one recently convalescent,
+could hope to cover in a single burst of
+speed.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was going to the Winter camp of the people
+of Tillie, the squaw. The camp lay somewhere in
+the northwest. How far away he did not know; and
+it was no part of his plans to arrive at the camp of
+the Chippewas depleted in energy and resource. The
+role he had set out to play now called for the character
+of the Snow-Burner at his best—dominant, unconquerable.
+Therefore, when he found that his first
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span>
+efforts at speed threatened to cripple him with the
+treacherous snow-shoe cramp, he resigned himself to a
+pace which would have shamed him had he been in
+good condition. It was poor snow-shoeing, but at the
+end of an hour he had placed between himself and
+all possible sight of Hattie MacGregor the first ragged
+rock-ramparts of the Dead Lands, and he was content.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the western slope of a low ridge he unstrapped
+his snow-shoes and sat down on a bare boulder for a
+rest. His heart throbbed nervously from his exertion
+and his lungs gasped weakly. But with each
+breath of the crisp air his strength was coming back
+to him, and in his head the brains of the Snow-Burner
+worked as of old. He smiled with great self-satisfaction.
+He was not considering his condition, was
+not counting the difficulties that lay in his path. He
+was merely picturing, with lightning-like play of that
+powerful mental machinery of his, the desperate
+nature of the adventure toward which he was travelling.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was desperate enough even to thrill Hell-Camp
+Reivers. For probably never did born adventurer set
+forth of his own free will on a more deadly, more
+hopeless-looking trail. As he sat on the rock there
+in the Dead Lands, Reivers was in better condition
+than on his flight from Cameron-Dam Camp to this
+extent: the bullet-hole in his shoulder was healed, and,
+he had recuperated from the fever brought on by
+exposure and exhaustion. That was all. He was
+still the bare man with empty hands. He possessed
+nothing in the world but the clothes he stood in, the
+food on his back and the gift snow-shoes on his feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had not even a knife that might be called a
+weapon, for the case-knife that old MacGregor had
+given him upon parting could scarcely be reckoned
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span>
+such. In this condition he was setting forth—first,
+to find a cunningly hidden mine; second, to take it and
+keep it for his own from one Shanty Moir, who treated
+his henchmen like dogs and was looked up to as a
+chieftain.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Snow-Burner lived again as he contemplated
+the possibilities of a clash with Moir. If what the
+MacGregors had said was true, Shanty Moir was a
+boss man himself. And as instinctively and eagerly as
+one ten-pronged buck tears straight through timber,
+swamp and water to battle with another buck whose
+deep-voiced challenge proclaims him similarly a giant,
+so Reivers was going toward Shanty Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+He leaped to his feet, with flashing eyes, at the
+thought of what was coming. Then he remembered
+his weakened condition and sat down again. For
+the immediate present, until his full strength returned,
+he must make craft take the place of strength.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he was ready to start again, Reivers took
+his bearings from the sun, it being a clear day, and
+laid his trail as straight toward the northwest as the
+formation of the Dead Lands would allow. He slept
+that night by a hot spring. A tiny rivulet ran unfrozen
+from the spring southward down into the
+maze of barren stone, a thread of dark, steaming
+water, wandering through the white, frozen snow.
+</p>
+<p>
+Had he been a little less tired with the day’s march
+Reivers might have paid more attention to this phenomenon
+that evening. In the morning he awoke with
+such eagerness to be on toward his adventure that he
+marched off without bestowing on the stream more
+than a casual glance. And later he came to curse his
+carelessness.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bearing steadily toward the northwest, his course
+lay in the Dead Lands for the greater part of the day.
+Shortly before sundown he saw with relief that ahead
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span>
+the rocks and ridges gave way to the flat tundra,
+with small clumps of stunted willows dotting the
+flatness, like tiny islands in a sea of snow.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers quickened his pace. Out on the tundra he
+hurried straight to the nearest bunch of willows. Even
+at a distance of several rods the chewed white branches
+of the willows told him their story, and he gave vent
+to a shout of relief. The caribou had been feeding
+there. The Chippewas lived on the caribou in Winter.
+He had only to follow the trail of the animals
+and he would soon run across the moccasin tracks
+of his friends, the Indians.
+</p>
+<p>
+Luck favoured him more than he hoped for. At
+his shout there was a crash in a clump of willows a
+hundred yards ahead and a bull caribou lumbered
+clumsily into the open. At the sight of him the
+beast snorted loudly and turned and ran. From right
+and left came other crashes, and in the gathering
+dusk the herd which had been stripping the willows
+fled in the wake of the sentinel bull, their ungainly gait
+whipping them out of sight and hearing in uncanny
+fashion.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers smiled. The camp of Tillie’s people would
+not be far from the feeding ground of the caribou.
+He ate his cold supper, crawled into the shelter of the
+willows and went to sleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dry, drifting snow half hid the tracks of the caribou
+during the night, and in the morning he was
+forced to wait for the late-coming daylight before
+picking up the trail. The herd had gone straight
+westward, and Reivers followed the signs, his eyes
+constantly scanning the snow for moccasin tracks
+or other evidence of human beings.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the middle of the forenoon, in a birch and willow
+swamp, he jumped the animals again. They
+caught his scent at a mile’s distance, and Reivers
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span>
+crouched down and watched avidly as they streaked
+from the swamp to security.
+</p>
+<p>
+To the north of the swamp lay the open, snow-covered
+tundra, where even the knife-like fore-hoof
+of the caribou would have hard time to dig out a living
+in the dead of Winter. To the south lay clumps
+of brush and stunted trees, ideal shelter and feed.
+</p>
+<p>
+The animals went north. Reivers nodded in great
+satisfaction. There were wolves or Indians to the
+south, probably the latter. Accordingly he turned
+southward. Toward noon he found his first moccasin
+track, evidently the trail of a single hunter who had
+come northward, but not quite far enough, on a hunt
+for caribou.
+</p>
+<p>
+The track looped back southward and Reivers
+trailed it. Soon a set of snow-shoe tracks joined
+the moccasins, and Reivers, after a close scrutiny had
+revealed the Chippewa pattern in the snow, knew that
+he was on the right track. The tracks dropped down
+on to the bed of a solidly frozen river and continued
+on to the south.
+</p>
+<p>
+Other tracks became visible. When they gathered
+together and made a hard-packed trail down the middle
+of the river, Reivers knew that a camp was not far
+away, and grew cautious.
+</p>
+<p>
+He found the camp as the swift Winter darkness
+came on, a group of half a dozen tepees set snugly
+in a bend of the river, one large tepee in the middle
+easily recognisable as that of Tillie, the squaw, chief
+of the band.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers sat down to wait. Presently he heard the
+camp-dogs growling and fighting over their evening
+meal and knew that they would be too occupied to
+notice and announce the approach of a stranger. Also,
+at this time the people of the camp would be in their
+tepees, supping heavily if the hunter’s god had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span>
+favourably inclined, and gnawing the cold bones of
+yesterday if that irrational deity had been unkind.
+</p>
+<p>
+By the whining note in the growls of the dogs,
+Reivers judged that the latter was the case this evening;
+and when he moved forward and stood listening
+outside the flap of the big tepee he knew that it was so.
+Within, an old squaw’s treble rose faintly in a whining
+chant, of which Reivers caught the despairing motif:
+</p>
+<p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Black&nbsp;is&nbsp;the&nbsp;face&nbsp;of&nbsp;the&nbsp;sun,&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The&nbsp;time&nbsp;has&nbsp;come&nbsp;for&nbsp;the&nbsp;old&nbsp;to&nbsp;die.&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo,&nbsp;ah&nbsp;wo!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There&nbsp;is&nbsp;meat&nbsp;only&nbsp;to&nbsp;keep&nbsp;alive&nbsp;the&nbsp;young.&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We&nbsp;who&nbsp;are&nbsp;old&nbsp;must&nbsp;die.&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo!&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo!&nbsp;Ah&nbsp;wo!<br />
+</p>
+<p>
+Any other white man but Reivers would have
+shuddered at the terrible, primitive story which the
+wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was with
+him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters
+had given up hopes of making a kill.
+</p>
+<p>
+With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap
+of the tepee. There was no noise. Suddenly the old
+squaw’s wail ceased; those in the tepee looked up from
+their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing
+inside the tepee, the flap closed behind him.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw,
+an old man, two young hunters, a young girl, and
+Tillie. They were gathered around the fire-stone in
+the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie,
+by virtue of her position, had the warmest place and
+the most fish.
+</p>
+<p>
+No one spoke a word as they became aware of
+his presence. Only on Tillie’s face there came a look
+in which the traces of hunger vanished. Reivers stood
+looking down at the group for a moment in silence.
+Then he strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and
+sat down in her place. For Reivers knew Indians.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Feed me,” he commanded, tossing his grub-bag
+to her.
+</p>
+<p>
+He did not look at her as she placed before him
+the entire contents of the bag. Having served him
+she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting his
+pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply
+of cold meat that remained of his supply. When
+he had his fill he tossed small portions to the old
+squaw, the old man and the young girl.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hunters are mighty,” he mocked in the Chippewa
+tongue, as the young men avidly eyed the meat. “They
+kill what they eat. The meat they do not kill would
+stick in their mighty throats.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side
+and eat what remained.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Men eat meat,” he continued, looking over the
+heads of the two hunters. “Old people and children
+are content with frozen fish. When I was here before
+there were men in this camp. There was meat
+in the tepees. The dogs had meat. Now I see the
+men are all gone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+One of the hunters raised his arms above his head,
+a gesture indicating strength, and let them fall resignedly
+to his side, a sign of despair.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The caribou are gone, Snow-Burner,” he said dully.
+“That is why there is no meat. All gone. The god
+of good kills has turned his face from us. Little
+Bear—” to the old man—“how long have our people
+hunted the caribou here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Bear lifted his head, his wizened, smoked
+face more a black, carved mask than a human countenance.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Big Bear, my father, was an old man when I was
+born,” he said slowly. “When he was a boy so small
+that he slept with the women, our people came here
+for the Winter hunt.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Little Bear,” chanted the hunter, “great was
+your father, the hunter; great were you as a hunter
+in your young days. Was there ever a Winter before
+when the caribou were not found here in plenty?”
+</p>
+<p>
+The old man shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said the hunter, “these are
+the words of Little Bear, whose age no one knows.
+Always the caribou have been plenty here along this
+river in the Winter. Longer than any old man’s tales
+reach back have they fed upon the willows. They
+are not here this Winter. The gods are angry with us.
+We hunt. We hunt till we lie flat on the snow. We
+find no signs. There are men still here, Snow-Burner,
+but the caribou have gone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have gone, have gone, have gone. Ah wo!”
+chanted the old squaw.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Where do you hunt?” asked Reivers tersely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Where we have always hunted; where our fathers
+hunted before us,” was the reply. “Along the river in
+the muskeg and bush to the south we hunt. The caribou
+are not there. They are nowhere. The gods
+have taken them away. We must die and go where
+they are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“We must go,” wailed the old squaw. “The gods
+refuse us meat. We must go.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Her chant of despair was heard beyond the tepee.
+In the smaller tents other voices took up the wail. The
+women were singing the death song, their primitive
+protest and acquiescence to what they considered the
+irrevocable pleasure of their dark gods.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers waited until the last squaw had whined
+herself into silence. Even then he did not speak at
+once. He knew that these simple people, who for
+his deeds had given him the expressive name of Snow-Burner,
+were waiting for him to speak, and he knew
+the value of silence upon their primitive souls. He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span>
+sat with folded arms, looking above the heads of the
+two hunters.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You have done well,” he said, nodding impressively,
+but not looking at the two young men. “You
+have hunted as men who have the true hunter’s heart.
+But what can man do when the gods are against him?
+The gods are against you. They are not against me.
+To-morrow I slay you your fill of caribou.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” whispered one of the hunters in
+the awe-stricken silence that followed this announcement,
+“there are no caribou here. Are you greater
+than the gods?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked at him, and at the light in his eyes
+the young man drew back in fright.
+</p>
+<p>
+“To-morrow I give you your fill of meat,” he said
+slowly. “Not only enough for one day, but enough
+for all Winter. Each tepee shall be piled high with
+meat. Even the dogs shall eat till they want no more.
+I have promised. I alone. Do you—” he pointed
+at the hunters—“bring me to-night the two best rifles
+in the camp. If they do not shoot true to-morrow, do
+not let me find you here when I return from the hunt.
+And now the rest of you—all of you—go from here.
+Go, I will be alone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+They rose and went out obediently, except Tillie
+who watched Reivers’s face with avid eyes as the
+young girl left the tepee. Then she crawled forward
+and touched her forehead to his hand, for Reivers
+had not bestowed upon the girl a glance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Presently the hunters came back and placed their
+Winchesters at his feet. He examined each weapon
+carefully, found them in perfect order and fully
+loaded, and dismissed the men with a wave of his arm.
+Tillie sat with bowed head, humbly waiting his pleasure,
+but Reivers rolled himself in his blanket and lay
+down alone by the fire.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I wish to sleep warm,” he said. “See that the
+fire does not go out till the night is half gone. Be
+ready to go with me in the hour before daylight. Have
+the swiftest and strongest team of dogs and the largest
+sledge hitched and waiting to bear us to the hunt.
+Go! Now I sleep.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span><a name='chXXVIII' id='chXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII—THE SNOW-BURNER HUNTS</h2>
+<p>
+The snarling of dogs being put into harness awoke
+him in the morning, but he lay pretending to
+sleep until Tillie, having overseen the hitching-up,
+came in, prepared food over the fire, which had not
+gone out all night, and came timidly and laid a hand
+on his shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was pitch dark when they went from the tepee.
+The dogs whined at the prospect of a dark trail, and
+the hunter who held them plied his whip savagely.
+With the rifles carefully stowed in their buckskin cases
+on the sledge, and a big camp-axe, as their whole burden,
+Reivers immediately took command of the dogs
+and headed down the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” chattered the frozen hunter in
+disappointment. “There are no caribou to the south.
+It is a waste of strength to hunt there.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“There are no caribou anywhere for you,” retorted
+Reivers. “For me it does not make any difference
+where I hunt; the spirits are with me. Stay close to
+the tepees to-day. If any one follows my trail the
+spirits will refuse their help. Hi-yah! Mush!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Under the sting of his skilfully wielded whip the big
+team whirled down the river, Reivers riding in front,
+Tillie behind. But they did not go south for long. A
+few miles below the camp Reivers abruptly swung the
+dogs off the river-bed and bore westward.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half a mile of this and he shifted and changed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span>
+his course to right angles, straight toward the north.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And now, mush! —— you! Mush for all that’s
+in you!” he cried, plying the whip. “You’ve got many
+miles to cover before daylight. Mush, mush!”
+</p>
+<p>
+He held straight northward until he left the bush
+and reached the open tundra at the spot where the
+caribou the day before had swung away farther north.
+He knew that the herd, being in a country undisturbed
+by man, would not travel far from the willows where
+he had jumped them the day before, and he held cautiously
+on their trail until the first grey of daylight
+showed a rise in the land ahead. Here he halted
+the dogs and crept forward on foot.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was as he expected. The caribou had halted
+on the other side of the height of land, feeling secure
+in that region where no man ever came. Below him
+he could see them moving, and he realised that he must
+act at once, before they began their travels of the day.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tillie,” he whispered, coming back to the sledge,
+“as soon as you can see the snow on the knoll ahead
+do you drive the dogs around there, to the right, and
+swing to the left along the other side of the knoll.
+Drive fast and shout loud. Shout as if the wolves
+had you. There are caribou over the knoll. When
+the dogs see them let them go straight for the herd.
+But wait till the snow shows white in the daylight.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Snatching both rifles from their covers, he ran
+around the left shoulder of the knoll and ambushed in
+a trifling hollow. He waited patiently, one rifle
+cocked and in his hand, the other lying ready at his
+side. The light grew broader; the herd, just out of
+safe rifle shot, began milling restlessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly, from around the right of the knoll, came
+the sharp yelp of a dog as Tillie’s leader, rounding
+the ridge, caught scent and sight of living meat ahead.
+The caribou stopped dead. Then bedlam broke loose
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span>
+as the dogs saw what was before them. And the
+caribou, trembling at the wolf-yells of the dogs, broke
+into their swift, lumbering run and came streaking
+straight past Reivers at fifty yards’ distance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers waited until the maddened beasts were running
+four deep before him. Then the slaughter began.
+No need to watch the sights here. The crash of
+shot upon shot followed as quickly as he could pump
+the lever. There were ten shots in each rifle, and he
+fired them all before the herd was out of range.
+Then only the hideous yelps of the maddened dogs
+tore the morning quiet. A dozen caribou, some dead,
+some kicking, some trying to crawl away, were scattered
+over the snow, and Reivers nodded and knew
+that his hold on Tillie’s people was complete.
+</p>
+<p>
+The dogs were on the first caribou now, snarling,
+yelping, fighting, eating, for the time being as wild
+and savage as any of their wolf forebears. Tillie,
+spilled from the sledge in the first mad rush of the
+team, came waddling up to Reivers and bowed down
+before him humbly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner, I know you are only a man, because
+I alone of my people have seen you among other
+white men,” she said. “Yet you are more than other
+men. Snow-Burner, I have lived among white people
+and know that the talk of spirits is only for children.
+But how knew you that the caribou were here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The meat is there,” said Reivers, pointing at his
+kill. “Your work is to take care of it. The axe is on
+the sledge. Cut off as many saddles and hind-quarters
+as the dogs can drag back to camp. The rest we will
+cache here. To your work. Do not ask questions.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He reloaded and put the wounded animals out of
+their misery, each with a shot through the head, and
+sat down and watched her as she slaved at her butcher’s
+task. Tillie had lived among white people, had been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span>
+to the white man’s school even, but Reivers knew
+he would slacken his hold on her if he demeaned himself
+by assisting her in her toil.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the dogs had stayed their hunger he leaped
+into their midst with clubbed rifle and knocked them
+yelping away from their prey. When they turned and
+attacked him he coolly struck and kicked till they had
+enough. Then with the driving whip he beat them
+till they lay flat in the snow and whined for mercy.
+</p>
+<p>
+By the time Tillie had the sledge loaded and the
+rest of the kill cached under a huge heap of snow,
+it was noon, and the dogs started back with their
+heavy load, open-mouthed and panting, their excitement
+divided between fear of the man who had mastered
+them and the odour of fresh blood that reeked
+in their avid nostrils.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span><a name='chXXIX' id='chXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX—THE WHITE MAN’S WILL</h2>
+<p>
+That night in the camp at the river bend the
+Indians feasted ravenously, and Reivers, sitting
+in Tillie’s place as new-made chief, looked on without
+smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” said the oldest man at last.
+“What is it you want with us? Our furs? Speak.
+We obey your will.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Furs are good,” replied Reivers, “when a man has
+nothing else, but gold is better, and the gold that another
+man has is best of all.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The old man cackled respectfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner! Do you come to us for gold?
+Do you think we would sit here without meat if we
+had gold? No, Snow-Burner. What we have you
+can have. Your will with the tribe from the oldest
+to the youngest is our law. We owe you our lives.
+The strength of our young men is yours; the wisdom
+of our old heads is yours. But gold we have not. Do
+not turn your frown upon us, Snow-Burner; you
+must know it is the truth.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Since when,” said Reivers sternly, “has my friend,
+old Little Bear, dared say that the Snow-Burner has
+the foolishness of a woman in his head? Do you think
+I come seeking gold from you? No. It is the strength
+of your young men and the wisdom of your old heads
+that I want. I seek gold. You shall help me find it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Bear raised his arms and let them fall in
+the eloquent Indian gesture of helplessness.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“White men have been here often to seek for gold.
+The great Snow-Burner once was one of them. They
+have digged holes in the ground. They have taken the
+sand from creek bottoms. Did the Snow-Burner, who
+finds caribou where there are none, find any gold here?
+No. It is an old story. There is no gold here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers leaned forward and spoke harshly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Listen, Little Bear; listen all you people. There
+is gold within three days’ march from here. Much
+gold. Another man digs it. You will find it for me.
+I have spoken.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Silence fell on the tepee. The Indians looked at
+one another. Little Bear finally spoke with bowed
+head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We do the Snow-Burner’s will.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Nawa, the youngest and strongest of the hunters,
+turned to Reivers respectfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa serves you with the
+strength of his leg and the keenness of his eyes. Nawa
+knows that the Snow-Burner sees things that are hidden
+to us. Our oldest men say there is no gold here.
+Other white men say there is no gold here. The Snow-Burner
+says there is gold near here.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner sees what is hidden to others.
+Nawa does not doubt. Nawa waits only the Snow-Burner’s
+commands. But Nawa has been to the settlements
+at Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp. He has
+heard the white men talk. They talk there of a man
+who carries gold like gunpowder and gold like bullets,
+instead of the white man’s money.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nawa has talked with Indians who have seen
+this man. They call him ‘Iron Hair,’ because his hair
+is black and stiff like the quills of a porcupine. Oh,
+Snow-Burner, Nawa knows nothing. He merely tells
+what he has heard. Is this the man the Snow-Burner,
+too, has heard of!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked around the circle of smoke-blackened
+faces about the fire. No expression betrayed what was
+going on behind those wood-like masks, but Reivers
+knew Indians and sensed that they were all waiting
+excitedly for his answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That is the man,” he said, and by the complete
+silence that followed he knew that his reply had
+caused a sensation that would have made white men
+swear. “What know you of Iron Hair, Nawa?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa dolefully, “our tribe
+knows of Iron Hair to its sorrow. Two moons ago
+the big man with the hair like a porcupine was at
+Fifty Mile for whisky and food. He hired Small Eyes
+and Broken Wing of our tribe to haul the food to
+his camp, a day’s travelling each way, so he said. The
+pay was to be big. Small Eyes and Broken Wing
+went. So much people know. Nothing more. The
+sledges did not come back. Small Eyes and Broken
+Wing did not come back. So much do we know of
+Iron Hair. Nawa has spoken.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Once there were men in these tepees,” said Reivers,
+looking high above Nawa’s head. “Once there were
+men who would have gone from their tepees to follow
+to the end the trail of their brothers who go and do
+not come back. Now there are no men. They sit in
+the tepees with the women and keep warm. Perhaps
+Small Eyes and Broken Wing were men and did not
+care to come back to people who sit by their fires
+and do not seek to find their brothers who disappear.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“We have sought, oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa
+hopelessly. “Do not think we have only sat by our
+fires. We sought to follow the trail of Iron Hair
+out of Fifty Mile——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“How ran the trail?” interrupted Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Between the north and the west. We went to
+hunt our brothers. But a storm had blotted out the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span>
+trail. Iron Hair had gone out in the storm. Who can
+follow when there is no trail to see?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Once,” resumed Reivers in the tone of contempt,
+“there were strong dog-drivers and sharp eyes here.
+They would have found the camp of Iron Hair in
+those days.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Our dogs still are strong, our young men drive
+well, our eyes are sharp even now, Snow-Burner,”
+came Nawa’s weary reply. “We searched. Even as
+we searched for the caribou we searched for the camp
+of Iron Hair. We found no camp. There is no
+white man’s camp in this country. There is no camp
+at all. We searched till nothing the size of a man’s
+cap could be hidden. The white men from Dumont’s
+Camp and Fifty Mile have searched for the gold which
+white men are mad for. They found nothing. At
+the settlements the white men say, ‘This man must be
+the devil himself and go to hell for his gold, because
+his camp certainly is not in this world where men can
+see it with their eyes.’”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And the caribou were not in this world, either?”
+mocked Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nawa shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“White men, too, have looked for the camp of
+Iron Hair.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Many white men,” supplemented old Little Bear.
+“White men always look when they hear of gold.
+They find gold if it is to be found. The earth gives
+up its secrets to them. Snow-Burner, they could not
+find the place where Iron Hair digs his gold.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nawa and his hunters could not find the caribou,”
+said Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was no reply. He had driven his will home.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, at last, “as Little
+Bear has said, we do your will.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good;” Reivers rose and towered over them. “My
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span>
+will at present is that you go to your tepees. Sleep
+soundly. I have work for you in the morning.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood and watched while they filed, stooped over,
+through the low opening in the tepee wall. They
+went without question, without will of their own. A
+stronger will than theirs had caught them and held
+them. From hence on they were wholly subservient
+to the superior mentality which was to direct their
+actions. Reivers smiled. Old MacGregor had felt
+safe in telling about the mine; a strange man had no
+chance to find it. But MacGregor did not know of
+Tillie’s people.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers suddenly turned toward the fire. Tillie
+was standing there, arrayed in buckskin so white that
+she must have kept it protected from the tepee smoke
+in hope of his coming. At the sight of her there came
+before Reivers’ eyes the picture of Hattie MacGregor’s
+face as she had looked up at him when he was leaving
+the MacGregor cabin. The look that came over
+his face then was new even to Tillie.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You, too, get out!” he roared, and Tillie fled from
+the tepee in terror.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span><a name='chXXX' id='chXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX—ANY MEANS TO AN END</h2>
+<p>
+In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and
+cursed himself for his weakness. What had happened
+to him? Was he getting to be like other men,
+that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired
+girl interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had
+he not sworn to forget? And yet here came the
+memory of her—the wide grey eyes, the suffering
+mouth, the purity of the look of her—rising before his
+eyes like a vision to shame him.
+</p>
+<p>
+To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He
+understood the significance of the look she had given
+him, and which had stood between him and Tillie.
+Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing
+to his better self.
+</p>
+<p>
+His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly
+that it might have come from a bare skull. His better
+self! If a man believed in things like that he had to
+believe in the human race—had to believe in goodness
+and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and
+all that silly, effeminate rot. Reivers didn’t believe in
+that stuff. He knew only one life-law, that of strength
+over weakness, and that was the law he would live
+and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not
+interfere.
+</p>
+<p>
+With his terrible will-power he erased the memory
+of her from his mind. He did not erase the resentment
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>
+at his own weakness. On the contrary, the
+resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that
+moment of weakness.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious
+mine. One—the way he had first planned to
+follow—was to scatter his Indians, and as many
+others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the
+country lying to the south of Fifty Mile, where he
+knew the mine must be. Moir, or his men, must show
+themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would
+find Moir’s camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was also a shorter and surer way—a
+shameful way. Moir, by the talk he had heard of him,
+came to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp for such
+whisky and feminine company as might be found. He
+had even sent one of his henchmen to steal Hattie
+MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was
+desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of
+the would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his
+man was either killed or captured, and that no hope
+for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir’s next move
+would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s, or
+to send a man there, to procure the means of salving
+his disappointment. And Reivers had two attractive
+women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who
+was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his
+momentary weakness. The black shamefulness of his
+scheme he laughed at. Then he went to sleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have this tepee and another one loaded on one
+sledge,” he directed. “Have a second sledge loaded
+with caribou meat. Do you and the young girl prepare
+to come with me. We are going on a long
+journey. You will both take your brightest clothes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He waited with set jaws while his orders were
+obeyed. No weakness any more. There was only
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span>
+one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the
+strong one.
+</p>
+<p>
+A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready,
+and he strode forth to find Nawa, the young hunter,
+waiting with the two women ready for the trail.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How so?” he demanded. “Did I say aught about
+Nawa?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” whispered Tillie, “Neopa is
+to be Nawa’s squaw with the coming of Spring. They
+wish to go together.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And I do not wish them to go together,” said
+Reivers harshly. “Give me that rifle.” He took the
+weapon from Nawa’s hands. “Do you stay here and
+eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of
+Spring, Nawa.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, a flash of will lighting
+his eyes for the moment, “does Neopa come back to
+me?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Perhaps,” said Reivers, cocking the rifle. “But if
+you try to follow you will never come back. Is it
+understood?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa
+made as if to run to him, but Reivers caught her
+brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He
+had resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter
+what the cost to others.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Mush! Get on!” he roared at the dogs, and with
+the rifle ready and with a backward glance at Nawa,
+he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span><a name='chXXXI' id='chXXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXXI—THE SQUAW-MAN</h2>
+<p>
+A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian
+camp, Dumont’s Camp had something to talk
+about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went
+through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest
+of the squaws was a beaut’! The old bum hadn’t
+stopped long, just long enough to trade a chunk of
+caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough,
+nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dumont’s Camp opined that it was a good thing
+for the old cripple that he hadn’t stayed longer, else
+he might have found himself minus his squaws, especially
+the young one. But Dumont’s Camp would have
+been mightily puzzled had it seen how the limp and
+stoop went out of the squaw-man’s body the moment
+he had left their camp behind, how the foolish leer
+and stuttering speech disappeared from his mouth,
+and how, straight-backed and stern-visaged, he threw
+the bottle of hooch away in contempt and hurried on
+toward Fifty Mile.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had played many strange parts in his
+tumultuous life, and his squaw-man was a masterpiece.
+Fifty Mile had its sensation early next morning.
+The half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man with
+the two extremely desirable squaws came through,
+stopped for another bottle of hooch, and drove on and
+made camp just outside the settlement.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He certainly was one soft-headed old bum,” said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span>
+Jack Raftery, leaning on the packing-case that served
+as bar in his logcabin saloon. “Yes, men, he certainly
+is bumped in the bean and locoed in his arms. Gimme
+that chunk o’ meat there for a bottle o’ hooch.
+’Bout fifty pounds, it’ll weigh. I’d give ‘im a gallon,
+but he grins foolish and says: ‘Bottle. One bottle.’
+‘Drag your meat in,’ says I. Well, gents, will you
+b’lieve he couldn’t make it. No, sir; paralysed in the
+arms or something.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That young squaw o’ his did the toting. A beaut’?
+Gents, there never was anything put up in a brown
+hide to touch it. An’ that locoed ol’ bum running
+’round loose with it. Tempting providence, that’s
+what he is, when he comes parading ‘round real men-folks
+with skirts like them. Shouldn’t wonder if
+something’d happen to him one o’ these cold days.
+Looks like he might ‘a’ been an awful good man in
+his day, too. Well built. Reckon he’s been used
+mighty rough to be locoed and crippled up the way
+he is.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I reck-ong,” drawled Black Pete, who ran the
+games at Raftery’s when there was any money in
+sight. “I reck-ong too mebbe he get handle more
+rough some tam ef he’s hang ‘round long wid dem
+two squaw. Tha’ small squaw’s too chic, she, to
+b’long to ol’ bum lak heem.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The assembled gents laughed. Had they seen the
+“ol’ bum” at that moment their laughter would have
+been cut short. Reivers, in a gully out of sight of the
+settlement, had thrown away his hooch, pitched camp,
+tethered the dogs and made all secure with a swiftness
+and efficiency that belied the characterisation Black
+Pete had applied to him. He had the two tepees set
+up far apart, the dogs tied between them, and Tillie
+and Neopa had one tepee, and Reivers the other, alone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Having made camp, Reivers knew what the boys
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span>
+would expect of him in his character of sodden squaw-man.
+Having resolved to use the most shameful means
+in the world to achieve his end, he played his base part
+to perfection.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Do you take this chunk of meat,” he directed
+Tillie, “and go down to the saloon and get another
+bottle of hooch. Yes, yes; I know I have destroyed
+one bottle. You are not to ask questions but to obey
+my commands. Go down and trade the meat for
+hooch. Do not stop to speak to the white men. Come,
+back at once. Go!”
+</p>
+<p>
+But down in Raftery’s the assemblage had no hint
+of these swift changes, and they laughed merrily at
+Black Pete’s remarks.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What d’you reckon his lay is, Jack?” asked one.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Booze,” replied Raftery instantly. “Nothing else.
+When you see a man who’s sure been as good a man
+in his day as this relic, trailing ’round with squaw
+folks, you can jest nacherlly whittle a little marker
+for him and paint on it, ‘’Nother white man as the
+hooch hez got.’ Sabbe? I trace him out as some
+prospector who’s got crippled up and been laying out
+’mongst the Indians with a good supply of the ol’
+frost-bite cure ’longside of ’im. Nothin’ to do but
+tuh hit the jug offen enough to keep from gettin’ sober
+and remembering what he used to was. Sabbe? Been
+layin’ out sucking the neck of a jug till his ol’ thinker’s
+got twisted.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ve seen dozens of ’em. You can’t fool me when
+I see one, and I saw him when he was comin’ through
+the door. Ran out o’ hooch and was afraid he’d get
+sober, so he comes down here to get soaked up some
+more. Brings his load o’ meat ‘long to trade in, an’
+these two brown dolls to make sure in case the caribou
+have been down this way, which they ain’t. Bet the
+drinks against two bits that he’ll be chasin’ one o’ the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span>
+squaws down here for another bottle before an hour’s
+gone. They all do. I’ve seen his kind before.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Black Pete took the bet.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Because I’m onlucky, <i>moi</i>, lately, an’ I want to lose
+this bet,” he explained.
+</p>
+<p>
+Raftery laughed homerically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s on you’ chest, Jack?” demanded one of his
+friends.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I was just thinking,” gurgled the saloonist, “what
+’ud happen in case this stiff gent, Iron Hair, was to run
+in ’bout this time.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“By Gar!” laughed Pete. “An’ Iron Hair, he’s
+just ’bout due.”
+</p>
+<p>
+At that moment Tillie came waddling in, laid down
+her bundle of meat before Raftery and said—
+</p>
+<p>
+“One bottle.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’d I tell you?” chuckled Raftery, handing
+over the liquor. “Boss him get laid out, eh?” he said
+to Tillie.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Tillie did not pause for conversation. She
+whipped the bottle under her blanket and waddled out
+without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” proclaimed Raftery.
+“That ol’ bum has got ’em well trained, anyhow.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Black Pete pulled his beard reflectively.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come to theenk,” he mused aloud, “dere was wan
+rifle on those sledge. I theenk mebbe I no go viseet
+thees ol’ bum, he’s camp, teel she’s leetle better acquaint’
+weeth <i>moi</i>.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span><a name='chXXXII' id='chXXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXXII—THE SCORN OF A PURE WOMAN</h2>
+<p>
+And Fifty Mile talked. It talked to all who came
+in from the white wastes of the country around.
+It talked in its tents. It talked while trifling with
+Black Pete’s games of no-chance. It talked around
+Raftery’s bar. It talked so loudly that men heard it up
+at Dumont’s Camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+From Fifty Mile and Dumont’s the talk spread up
+and down the trails, and even out to solitary cabins
+and dugouts where there were no trails. Wherever
+men were to be found in that desolate region the talk
+of Fifty Mile soon made its way. And the talk was
+mainly of the young squaw, of the old crippled-up
+squaw-man, and that she was of a beauty to set men’s
+heads a-whirling and make them murder each other
+for her possession.
+</p>
+<p>
+Men meeting each other on the trails asked three
+questions in order:
+</p>
+<p>
+“Where you traveling? How’s your tobacco?
+Heard about the beaut’ of a little squaw down to Fifty
+Mile?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Men travelling in the direction of the settlements
+bent their steps toward Fifty Mile, even though it
+lay far out of their course. Men travelling in the
+opposite direction passed the news to all whom they
+bespoke. Of those who came to the settlement, many
+strolled casually up the gully where the squaw-man
+had his camp. And all of them strolled down again
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span>
+with nothing to brag about but a drink of hooch and
+a mouthful of talk with the squaw-man.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I don’t quite follow that gent’s curves,” summed
+up Jack Raftery, speaking for the gang. “He gets
+enough hooch here to keep any human gent laid out
+twenty-six hours out of the twenty-four, but somehow
+whenever you come moseying up to his camp he’s on
+his pins, ready to give you a drink and a lot of locoed
+talk. Yessir, he sure is locoed until he needs a guardian,
+but for one I don’t go to do no rushing of his
+lady-folks, not while he’s able to stand on his pins
+and keep his eyes moving. Gents, there’s been one
+awful stiff man in his day, and his condition goes to
+show what booze’ll do to the best of ’em, and ought to
+be a warning to us all. Line up, men; ’bout third
+drink time for me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“There is sometheeng about heem,” agreed Black
+Pete, “I don’t know what ‘tees, but there is sometheeng
+that whispairs to me, ‘Look out!’”
+</p>
+<p>
+While Fifty Mile thus debated his character, Reivers
+lay in his tepee, carefully playing the shameful part he
+had assumed. He knew that by now the news of his
+arrival, or rather the arrival of Neopa and Tillie, had
+been bruited far and wide around the settlements. Soon
+the news must come to the ears of the man for whose
+benefit the scheme had been arranged.
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir, being what he was, would become
+interested when he heard the descriptions of Neopa,
+and, also because he was what he was, he would waste
+no time, falter at no risks, stop at nothing when his
+interest had been aroused. Reivers had only to wait.
+Moir would come. The only danger was that Hattie
+and her uncle might come before him.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the third day after the squaw-man’s arrival,
+Fifty Mile had a second sensation. That morning,
+as Reivers, staggering artistically, came out of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span>
+Raftery’s house of poison, he all but stumbled over a
+sledge before the door. With his assumed grin of
+idiocy growing wider, he examined the sledge carefully,
+next the team which was hitched to it, then
+lifted his eyes to the man and woman that stood beside
+the outfit. At the first glance he had recognised
+the sledge, and he needed the time thus gained to recover
+from the shock.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hello, Mac, ol’ timer!” he bellowed drunkenly at
+Duncan MacGregor. “Come have a drink with me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor looked at him dourly, disgust and anger
+on his big red face. Hattie, at his side, looked away,
+her lips pressed tightly together to control the anger
+rising within her. She had gone deadly pale at the
+first sight of Reivers; now the red of shame was
+burning in her cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I shook hands with you, stranger, when you left
+our roof,” said MacGregor gruffly. “I do not do so
+now. I thought you were a man.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I never did!” snapped Hattie, still looking away.
+“I knew it was not a man.” Something like a sob
+seemed to wrench itself from her chest in spite of her
+firm lips. “I knew it was—just what it is.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly she flared around on Reivers, her face wan
+with mingled pain, shame and anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now you are doing just what you are fit for. I’ve
+heard. Living on your squaws! And you dared to
+talk big to me—to a decent woman. Blood of my
+father! You dared to talk to me at all! Drive on,
+Uncle. We’ll go on to Dumont’s. We’ll get away
+from this thing; it pollutes the air. Hi-yah, Bones!
+Mush, mush, mush!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers leered and grinned foolishly—for the benefit
+of the onlookers—as the sledge went on out of
+sight.
+</p>
+<p>
+“See?” he said boastfully. “I used to know white
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span>
+folks once. Yes sir; used to know lot of ’em. Don’t
+now. Only know Indians. S’long, boys; got to go
+home.”
+</p>
+<p>
+All that day he sat alone in his tepee. Tillie came
+to him at noon with food and he cursed her and
+drove her away. In the evening she came to him
+again, and again Reivers ordered her not to lift
+the flap on his tepee.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie by this time was fully convinced that the
+Snow-Burner had gone mad. Else why had he repulsed
+all her advances? Why had he refused to look
+at the young and attractive Neopa? And now he
+even spurned food. Yes, the Snow-Burner had gone
+mad, as white men sometimes go mad in the North;
+but she was still his slave. That was her fate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers sat alone in his tepee, once more fighting
+to put away the face of Hattie MacGregor as it rode
+before his eyes, a burning, searing memory. He was
+not faltering. The shame for him, because he was
+a white man, because she had once had him under her
+roof, that Hattie MacGregor had suffered as she saw
+him now, did not swerve him in the least from the
+way he was going.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had decided to do it this way. That was settled.
+The shame and degradation of his assumed position
+he had reckoned and counted as naught in the game
+he was playing. Any means to an end. These same
+men who were despising him for a sodden squaw-man
+would bow their heads to him when the game was won.
+And he would win it, the memory of the face of Hattie
+MacGregor would not halt him in the least. Rather it
+would spur him on. For when the game was won, he
+would laugh at her—and forget.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the present it was a little hard to forget. That
+was why he sat alone in the tepee and swore at Tillie
+when she timidly offered to bring him food.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+So the red-headed girl thought that of him, did she—that
+he was living on his squaws? Well, let her
+think it. What difference did it make? She thought
+he was that base, did she? All right. She would pay
+for it all when the time came.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers roused himself and strode outdoors. His
+thoughts persisted in including Hattie MacGregor
+in their ramblings as he sat in the tepee, and he felt
+oppressed. What he needed was to mingle with other
+men. He’d forget, then. He condemned the company
+that was to be found at Raftery’s, but his need for
+distraction drove him and, assuming the stoop, limp
+and leer of the sodden squaw-man, he slumped off
+down the gully to the settlement.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a clear, starlit night, and as he slumped along
+he mused on what a fine night it would be for picking
+out a trail by the stars. As he approached Raftery’s
+he saw and heard evidences of unusual activity
+in the bar. A team of eight dogs, hitched to an
+empty sledge, was tied before the door. Within there
+was sound of riot and wassail. Over the sound of
+laughter and shuffling feet rose a voice which drowned
+the other noises as the roar of a lion drowns the
+chirping of birds, a voice that rattled the windows in
+a terrifying rendition of “Jack Hall.”
+</p>
+<p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh,&nbsp;I&nbsp;killed&nbsp;a&nbsp;man&nbsp;’tis&nbsp;said,&nbsp;so&nbsp;’tis&nbsp;said;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I&nbsp;killed&nbsp;a&nbsp;man&nbsp;’tis&nbsp;said,&nbsp;so&nbsp;’tis&nbsp;said.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I&nbsp;kicked&nbsp;‘is&nbsp;bloody&nbsp;head,&nbsp;an’&nbsp;I&nbsp;left&nbsp;‘im&nbsp;lyin’&nbsp;dead;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yes,&nbsp;I&nbsp;left&nbsp;‘im&nbsp;lyin’&nbsp;dead&nbsp;——&nbsp;’is&nbsp;eyes!<br />
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers opened the door and strode in silently and
+unobserved. He made a base, contemptible figure as,
+stooped and shuffling, a foolish leer on his face, he
+stood listening apologetically to the song. The broad
+back of the singer was turned toward him. As the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span>
+song ended Raftery’s roaming eye caught sight of
+Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, there he is; here he is, Iron Hair. There’s
+the man with the squaws I was telling you about.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The man swung around, and Reivers was face to
+face with the man he sought, Shanty Moir.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span><a name='chXXXIII' id='chXXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII—SHANTY MOIR</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers’ tumultuous scheme of life often had led
+him into situations where his life had hung on his
+ability to play artistically the part he had assumed.
+But never had his self-control been put to such a test
+as now, when he faced Shanty Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+Had he not prepared himself for a shock, his surprise
+must surely have betrayed him, for even the
+Snow-Burner could not look upon Shanty Moir without
+amazement. To Reivers, the first impression that
+came was that he was looking at something as raw
+and primitive as the sources of life itself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir had little or nothing in common with
+the other men in the room. He was even shaped
+differently. He belonged, so it seemed to Reivers,
+to the age of the saber-tooth tiger, the long-haired
+mammoth, and a diet of roots and raw flesh.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was about him the suggestion of man just
+risen to the dignity of an upright position. His body
+was enormous—longer, wider, denser than a man’s
+body should be; the legs beneath it short and bowed.
+There was no neck that could be seen. His arms
+seemed to begin close up to the ears, and ran downward
+in curves, like giant calipers, the hands even with
+the knees.
+</p>
+<p>
+The head fitted the body, squat and enormous, the
+forehead running abruptly back from the brows, and
+the face so flat and bony that the features seemed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span>
+merely to dent it. The brow-bones came down and
+half hid the small eyes; the nose was small, but a
+pair of great nostrils ran back in the skull; the mouth
+was huge, yet it seemed small, and there was more
+of the head below it than above.
+</p>
+<p>
+Iron Hair was well nicknamed. His hair was probably
+three inches long, and it stood out straight from
+his head—black, wiry, menacing. Reivers, with his
+foolish grin growing larger on his face, appraised
+Moir with considerable admiration. Here was the
+real thing, the pure, unadulterated man-animal, unweakened,
+untouched by effeminising civilisation. This
+man knew no more law or conscience than the ancient
+cave-tiger, whose only dictates sprang from appetite.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had rejected morals because it pleased him
+to run contrary to all the rest of the world; this man
+never knew that right or wrong existed. What his
+appetites told him to take he took as a matter of
+course. And it was written in his face that his appetites
+were as abnormally powerful as was he.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers had been a leader of men because his mind
+was stronger than the minds of the men with whom
+he had dealt. This man was a leader because of the
+blind, unintelligent force that was in him. And inwardly
+the fighting man in Reivers glowed at the
+prospects of the Titanic clash that would come between
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir as he looked from under his bony brows
+saw exactly what Reivers wished him to see: a drunken
+broken squaw-man, so weak that he could not possibly
+be the slightest source of trouble. Being primitive of
+mind he listed Reivers at once as helpless. Having
+done this, nothing could alter his opinion; and Reivers
+had gained the vantage that he sought.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir threw back his head and laughed, softly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span>
+and behind set teeth, when his quick inspection of
+Reivers was ended.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So that’s tuh waster who’s got tuh squaws ‘at
+hass tuh camp upset,” he said languidly. “Eh, sonnies!
+Art no men among ye that ye have not gone
+woman-stealing by this? Tuh waster does not look
+hard to take a young woman from.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers broke into an apologetic snigger.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t you try to steal my two kids, mister,” he
+whined. “You’d be mighty sorry for your bargain if
+you did.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“How so, old son?” demanded Moir with a tolerant
+laugh.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Them kids—if you was to steal them without my
+permission—one or both of ’em—they’d make you
+wish you’d never seen ’em—‘less I was along,”
+chuckled Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Speak it up, old son,” said Moir sharply. “What’s
+behind thy fool’s words?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Them kids—they’d die if they was took away
+from me,” replied Reivers seriously. “And they’d
+take the man who stole ’em to the happy hunting
+ground along with ’em.” He winked prodigiously.
+“Lots of funny things in this ol’ world, mister. You
+wouldn’t think to look at me that those two kids
+wouldn’t want to live if I wasn’t with ’em, but that’s
+the fact. I wasn’t always what I’m now, mister.
+Once—well, I was different once—and them kids will
+just nacherlly manage to poison the first man who
+touches ’em—unless I give the word.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The men of Fifty Mile looked at one another, and
+Black Pete shuddered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The ol’ moocher sure has got ’em trained, Iron
+Hair,” said Raftery. “He’s locoed, but those squaws
+look up to him like a little tin god, and that’s no lie.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Poison?” repeated Moir doubtingly. “Art a medicine
+man, old son?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers shook his head loosely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not me, mister, not me,” he chuckled. “It’s something
+Indian that I don’t sabbe. But there’s a couple
+graves ’way up where we came from, and they hold
+what’s left of a couple of bad men who raided my
+camp and stole my kids. I don’t know how it happened,
+mister. The kids come back to me the same
+night, and the two bad men were stiff and black—as
+black as your hair, mister, after the first kiss.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The kiss of Death,” chimed in Black Pete, crossing
+himself. “I have heard of eet. <i>Sacré!</i> I am the
+lucky dog, <i>moi</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir nodded. He, too, had heard of the
+method by which Indian women of the North on rare
+occasions revenge themselves upon the brutal white
+men who steal them from their people. Having often
+indulged in that thrilling sport himself, Moir was well
+versed in the obstacles and dangers to be met in its
+pursuit. Being crafty, with the craft of the lynx
+that eschews the poisoned deer carcass, he had thus
+far managed to select his victims from the breed of
+squaws that do not seriously object to playing a Sabine
+part; and he had no intention of decreasing his caution
+now, although what men had spoken of Neopa
+had fired his blood.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ho, ho! I see how ’tis, old son,” he said with a
+grin of appreciation. “Dost manage well for a
+waster.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He suddenly drew his hand from his mackinaw
+pocket and held it out, opened, toward Reivers. Two
+jagged nuggets of dull gold the size of big buckshot
+jiggled on his palm, and Moir laughed uproariously
+as Reivers, at the sight of them, bent forward,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span>
+rubbing his hands together, apparently frantic with avarice.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh—hey!” drawled Moir, closing his fist as Reivers’
+fingers reached for the gold. “I thought so. ’Tis
+tub gold thy wants, eh, old sonny? Well, do thee
+bring me tuh cattle to look at and we’ll try to bargain.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come up to my camp,” chattered Reivers, eying
+the fist that contained the nuggets. He was anxious
+to get out of the bar. He had no fear that the primitive
+Moir would be able to see any flaw in his acting,
+but Black Pete and Jack Raftery were less primitive,
+and he knew that they had not quite accepted
+him for the weakling that he pretended to be. “Come
+and visit me. Buy a bottle of hooch and we go up
+to my camp.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir tossed one of the nuggets across the bar to
+Raftery.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is’t good for a round, lad?” he laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Raftery cunningly hefted the nugget and set out
+the bottles.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good for two,” he replied.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir tossed over the second nugget.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then that’s good for four,” said he. “Do ye boys
+drink it up while I’m away to tuh camp of old sonny
+here. A bottle, Raftery. Now, sonny, do thee lead on,
+and if I’m not satisfied I’ll wring thy neck to let thee
+know my displeasure.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span><a name='chXXXIV' id='chXXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV—THE BARGAIN</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir
+wait a moment by the fire, while he spoke to
+Tillie. “Dress yourself and Neopa in your newest,”
+he commanded. “Then do you both come in to me,
+bringing food for two men.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What’s wrong, sonny?” laughed Moir, seeing
+Reivers come under the door flap alone. “Hast lost
+the whip over thy cattle?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“They’re getting some grub ready,” replied Reivers
+fawningly. “They’ll be here in a minute. Let’s
+have a drink out of that bottle, mister. That’s the
+stuff.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the
+burning liquor in a fashion that made even Moir
+open his eyes in admiration.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster,
+sonny,” he chuckled, and measuring with his fingers
+on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers’ he tossed it
+gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the
+bottle from his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I always take an eye-opener before my real drink,”
+said Reivers, and, measuring off twice the amount that
+Moir had taken, he drank it off like so much water.
+</p>
+<p>
+The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild
+stimulant. On his abnormal organisation it merely
+had the effect of intensifying his characteristics. When
+he wished to drink whisky he drank—out of full-sized
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span>
+water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put
+liquor from him with contempt. Now he handed the
+bottle back to Moir. The latter looked at him and at
+the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not dismayed. Reivers
+had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to
+him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any
+man in a drinking bout.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time,
+sonny,” said Moir, and finished the bottle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No more?” muttered Reivers vacantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Gallons!” replied Moir. “Whisky enough to drown
+you dead—if your women satisfy.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Look at them,” said Reivers as the door-flap was
+flung back. “Here they are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin,
+her hair hanging in two thick braids down her
+shoulders. Neopa followed, and the wistfulness that
+had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made
+her the more interesting in Shanty Moir’s eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+A glance from Neopa’s fawn-like eyes at the big
+man whom Reivers had brought home with him, and
+then her eyes sought the ground and she trembled.
+Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the
+Snow-Burner, she had never seen so masterful a man.
+She looked at Reivers and saw that he was not watching
+her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the
+Snow-Burner’s slave; his will was her law. But since
+he refused to notice her smiles it would do no harm
+to smile upon a man like this Iron Hair—just a
+little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to
+Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take the young one outside for two minutes.
+I’ve a word to say to this one.”
+</p>
+<p>
+To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust
+Neopa out before him, and dropped the flap.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Listen,” whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue
+to Tillie, “we will put his man out of the way. It is
+easily done. Then you will go with me, you and the
+young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the
+young one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be
+on the trail in an hour.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner is the master,” she said seriously.
+“I will slay the man who does him harm. I
+can not do what he does not wish. I can not go
+away from him.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The smile went from Tillie’s full lips and she took a
+step toward the opening.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Stop,” laughed Moir softly. “I merely wished to
+know if you are a true woman. All right, old sonny!”
+he called. “Come on in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I takest off cap to you, lad,” he continued as Reivers
+and Neopa re-entered. “Hast got thy squaws fair
+buffaloed.” His eyes ran over the shrinking Neopa
+in cruel appraisal. “Now, old sonny, out with it.
+What’s thy idea of tuh bargain?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky
+bottle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Said enough,” laughed Moir. “Shall have all tuh
+hooch thy guts can hold.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on
+his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hooch is good,” said he, “but gold is better.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go on,” said Moir sullenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ve got gold,” continued Reivers. “I saw it.
+You’ve got lots of gold; I’ve heard them talk about
+you down at Raftery’s. You want us to go with you
+when you go back to your camp, don’t you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir nodded angrily.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I want the women,” he said brutally. “I might
+be able to use you, too.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’ve got to use me if you’re going to have the
+women,” he chuckled. “You know that by this time,
+don’t you, mister?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Again Moir’s black head nodded in grudging assent.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What then?” he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m a handy man around a camp, mister,” whined
+Reivers. “You got to take me along if you take the
+women, but I can be a help——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Canst cook?” snapped Moir suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Heh, heh! Can I cook?” Reivers rubbed his
+hands. “I’m an old—I used to be an old sour-dough,
+mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who
+couldn’t cook?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Might use thee then,” said Moir. “My fool of a
+cook has gone. Sent him after a woman for me, and
+he hasn’t come back. Happen he got himself killed,
+tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up
+without tuh woman. Well, then, if that’s settled—what’s
+tuh bargain?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In
+reality the situation was very clear to him. Moir
+had listed him as a weakling; therefore he had no fear
+of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would
+be confident of winning the loyalty of the two women
+from their apparently helpless master. And as it
+was apparent that the man whom Reivers had slain
+with a rock had been Moir’s cook, it was probable
+that he was sincere in his offer to use Reivers in
+that capacity.
+</p>
+<p>
+“In the Spring,” said Reivers in reply to Moir’s
+question, “me and my two kids go north again, back
+among their own people.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“In the Spring,” growled Moir, “canst go to —— for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span>
+all of me. I’ll be travelling then myself. Speak
+out, sonny. How much?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Plenty of hooch for me all Winter,” Reivers
+leered with drunken cunning.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I said plenty,” retorted Moir. “What else?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Gold,” said Reivers, rubbing his hands. “Gold
+enough to buy me hooch for all next Summer.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he
+was dealing with. His eyes ran over the plump Tillie,
+over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Done,” he laughed. “And now, old son, break
+up thy camp while I load my sledge with hooch. Be
+ready to travel when I come back. I’ll bring plenty
+of liquor, but none to be drinked till we’re on the trail.
+Wilt travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But
+willst have a snug berth in my camp when we get
+there. Yes,” he laughed as he hurried out, “wilt not
+be able to tear thyself away.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span><a name='chXXXV' id='chXXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXXV—THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE</h2>
+<p>
+Under Reivers’ sharp orders—given in a way
+that would have startled Moir had he heard—Tillie
+and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges
+with their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked
+them to the traces.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Neopa timidly, “do we
+go back to Nawa?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“In good time,” said Reivers. “For the present,
+you have only to obey my wishes. Get on the first
+sledge.”
+</p>
+<p>
+With bowed head the girl took the place directed,
+and Reivers turned to find Tillie smiling craftily at
+his elbow.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” she said softly, “this is the man,
+Iron Hair, who digs the gold which you want. We
+go to rob him. I understand. You play at drinking
+to fool Iron Hair. It is well. Tillie will help the
+Snow-Burner. We will kill Iron Hair and take his
+gold. Then the Snow-Burner will come with Tillie
+to her tepee?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked at her, and for the first time he
+felt a revulsion against the base part he was playing.
+Would he return with Tillie to her tepee when this
+affair was over? Would he go on with his old way
+of living, the base part of him triumphant over the
+better self? The strange questions rapped like trip-hammers
+on Reivers’ conscience.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get on the sledge!” he growled, choked with
+anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+She did not stir. He struck her cruelly. Tillie
+smiled. That was like the Snow-Burner of old; and
+she waddled to her appointed place without further
+question.
+</p>
+<p>
+Up the gulch from Raftery’s came Moir quietly
+leading his dogs, the sledge well loaded with cases
+of liquor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wilt have a kiss first of all,” he laughed excitedly,
+and catching Neopa in his arms tossed her in the air,
+kissed her loudly on her averted cheeks and set her
+back on the sledge. “Now, old son, follow and follow
+quietly. When Iron Hair travels he wants no
+Fifty Mile gang on his trail. Say nothing, but keep
+me in sight. Heyah, mush, mush!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the gully he led the way swiftly and silently
+to the open country beyond the settlement. There
+he circled in a confusing way, bearing northward.
+After an hour he began circling again, doubling on his
+trail to make it hard for any one to follow, but finally
+Reivers knew by the stars that the course lay to the
+south. Another series of false twists in the trail, then
+Moir struck out in determined fashion on a straight
+course, east and a trifle south from Fifty Mile.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers, silently guiding his dogs in the tracks made
+by Moir, breathed hard as he read the stars. By the
+pace that Moir was setting it seemed certain that
+he now was making for his camp in a direct line. But
+if so, if this trail were held, it would take them back
+toward the Dead Lands, straight into the country that
+was Duncan MacGregor’s trapping-ground. Could the
+mine be in that region. If so, how could it have escaped
+the notice of the old trapper?
+</p>
+<p>
+It was well past midnight when Reivers saw the
+team ahead disappear in a depression in the ground
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span>
+and heard Moir’s voice loudly calling a halt. By the
+time Reivers came up with his two sledges Moir had
+unhitched his dogs on the flat of a frozen river-bed
+and was hurriedly dragging a bottle from one of the
+cases on his sledge.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hell’s fire, old son; unhook and camp. The liquor’s
+dying in me, and I had just begun to feel good.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I was wondering,” gasped Reivers in assumed exhaustion.
+“I was wondering how much farther you
+were going before you opened a bottle.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have your squaws get out tuh grub,” ordered
+Moir, jamming down the cork. “And now you ‘n’ me,
+wilt see who drinks t’other off his feet.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For reply Reivers promptly gulped down a drink
+that would have strangled most men.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good enough,” admitted Moir. “Here’s better,
+though.” And he instantly improved on Reivers’
+record.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first bottle was soon emptied—a quart of raw,
+fiery hooch—and a second instantly broached.
+</p>
+<p>
+The food was forgotten by Moir; the women were
+forgotten. His primitive mind was obsessed with the
+idea of pouring more burning poison down his throat
+than this broken-down waster who dared to drink
+up to him. Bolt upright he sat, laughing and singing,
+never taking his eyes off Reivers, while drink
+after drink disappeared down their throats.
+</p>
+<p>
+No movement of Reivers escaped Moir’s vigilant
+watch for signs of weakness. As Reivers gave no
+apparent sign of toppling over he grew enraged.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hell’s fire! Wilt sit here till daylight if thou wilt,”
+he roared. “Drink on there! ’Tis thy turn.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie and Neopa got food ready from the grub-bag
+and sat waiting patiently; the dogs ceased moving,
+bedded down in the snow and went to sleep; and still
+the contest went on.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Finally Reivers discerned the slight thickening of
+speech and the glassy stare in his opponent’s eyes
+that he had been waiting for. Then, and not until
+then, did he begin to betray apparent signs of failing.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sh-sh-shtrong liquor, m-m-mishter,” he stuttered.
+“Awful sh-sh-shtrong liquor.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir cackled in drunken triumph.
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tish bear’s milk, old shon. ’Tish made for men.
+Drink, —— ye, drink again!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers drank, drank longer and heavier than he
+had yet done.
+</p>
+<p>
+“There; take the mate of that, mister, and you’ll
+know you been drinking,” he stammered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir’s throat by this time had been burned too raw
+to taste, and his sight was too dulled to measure quantities.
+He tipped the bottle up and drained it. The
+dose would have killed a normal man. To Shanty
+Moir it brought only an inclination to slumber. His
+head fell forward on his breast.
+</p>
+<p>
+With a thick-tongued snarl he sat up straight and
+looked at Reivers. Reivers hiccoughed, swayed in
+his seat, and collapsed with a drunken clatter.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir smiled. He winked in unobserved triumph.
+Then the superhuman strength with which he had
+fought off the effects of the liquor snapped like a
+broken wire, and he pitched forward on his face into
+the snow.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span><a name='chXXXVI' id='chXXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXXVI—THE SNOW-BURNER BEGINS TO WEAKEN</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers stood up, looked down at his fallen rival
+and yawned.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Body,” he mused, “but for a hard head, there lies
+you.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He bent cautiously over Moir. The Welshman lay
+with his face half buried in the crusted snow, his
+lungs pumping like huge bellows, and the snow flying
+in gusts from around his nostrils at every expulsion of
+breath. Reivers laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
+There was no movement.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hey, mister,” he called.
+</p>
+<p>
+The undisturbed breathing showed that the words
+had not penetrated to the clouded consciousness. Deliberately
+Reivers turned the big man over on his back.
+Moir lay as stiff and dead as a log. With swift, deft
+hands Reivers searched him to the skin, looking for a
+trail-map, a mark or a sign of any kind that might
+indicate the location of Moir’s mine. He was not
+greatly disappointed when he failed to find anything
+of the sort; he had hardly expected that an experienced
+pirate like Shanty Moir would travel with his
+secrets on his person.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next he considered the dogs. It was barely possible
+that the dogs knew the way to the mine. If
+they had travelled the way before, they would know
+when they were on the home-trail, and if so they
+would travel thither if given their heads, even though
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span>
+their master lay helplessly bound on the sledge. Then
+at the mine, a sudden surprise, and probably a second
+of sharp work with the rifle on Moir’s henchmen.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers stepped eagerly over to where Moir’s team
+lay sleeping. He swore softly when he saw them.
+Moir had traded his tired team for a fresh outfit
+at Fifty Mile, and the new dogs were as strange to
+this trail as Reivers himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+His triumph over Moir in the drinking bout had
+been in vain. There was no march to be stolen, even
+with Moir lying helpless on the snow. He would have
+to go through with it as he had planned. Tillie and
+Neopa must be the means by which he would obtain
+his ends.
+</p>
+<p>
+He suddenly looked over to the sledge where the
+two women were patiently waiting with the food
+they had prepared. Tillie, squat and stolid, was sitting
+as impassive and content as a bronze figure at the
+door of the shelter tepee which she had erected, but
+Neopa sat bowed over on the end of the sledge, her
+head on her folded arms, her slim figure shaking with
+silent sobs.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Put back the food and go to your blankets,” he
+commanded harshly. “Stop that whining, girl, or
+you will have something to whine for.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He waited until his orders had been obeyed and the
+women were in the tepee. Then he unrolled his blanket
+and lay down on the snow.
+</p>
+<p>
+He did not sleep. He knew that he would not.
+For all through the day, during his dealing with Moir,
+on the night trail under the clean stars, his mind had
+been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in
+running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit
+night, with nothing to occupy him, the picture rushed
+into being, vivid and living. He could not shut it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span>
+out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of
+Hattie MacGregor as he had seen her that morning
+with the pain and scorn upon her young, fine face.
+Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as clear
+as if she stood by his side:
+</p>
+<p>
+“I knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws!
+And you dared to talk to me—a decent woman!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the
+white stars. From the tepee there came a sound that
+brought him up sitting. He listened, amazed and
+puzzled. It was Neopa sobbing because she had been
+torn from her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint
+of her pain-racked tones there was something which
+recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of Hattie
+MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was probably an hour after he had lain down that
+Reivers rose up and quietly hooked his strongest dogs
+to a sledge.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tillie! Neopa! Come out!” he whispered, throwing
+open the flap of the little tepee.
+</p>
+<p>
+Neopa came, wet-faced and haggard, her wide-open
+eyes showing plainly that there had been no sleep
+for her that night. Tillie was rubbing her eyes sleepily,
+protesting against being wakened from comfortable
+slumber.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers pointed northward up the river bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Up there, on this river, one day’s march away, is
+the camp of your people, which we came from,” he
+whispered. “Do you both take this team and drive
+rapidly thither. Hold to the river-bed and keep away
+from the black spots where the water shows through
+the snow. Do not stop to rest or feed. You should
+reach your people in the middle of the afternoon.
+Then do you give Nawa this rifle. Tell him to shoot
+any white man who comes after you. Now go
+swiftly.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Neopa looked at him with her fawn-like eyes large
+with incredibility and hope.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner! Do you let me go back to Nawa?”
+she whispered.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get on the sledge,” he commanded. “Do as I’ve
+told you, or you’ll hear from me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As emotion had all but paralysed the young girl
+he forced her to a seat on the sledge and thrust the
+whip into her hand, then turned to Tillie. Tillie was
+making no move to approach the sledge.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie smiled strangely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Has the Snow-Burner become afraid of Iron
+Hair?” she asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“So little afraid that I no longer need you to help
+me in this matter,” retorted Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+The shrewd squaw shook her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How will the Snow-Burner find Iron Hair’s gold
+how? Iron Hair will not take the Snow-Burner to
+his camp alone. It is not the Snow-Burner that Iron
+Hair wants. It is a woman. Has the Snow-Burner
+given up the fight to get the gold which he wants
+so much? He knows he can not reach Iron Hair’s
+camp—alone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then I will not reach it at all. Get on the sledge.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie smiled but did not move.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner at last has become like other
+white men. He wishes to do what is right.” She
+pointed at the snoring Moir. “He would not be so
+weak.”
+</p>
+<p>
+While Reivers looked at her in amazement the
+squaw stepped forward, straightened out the dogs,
+kicked them viciously and sent the sledge, bearing
+Neopa alone, flying up the river-bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“To send Neopa back to Nawa is well and good,”
+she said, returning to Reivers. “She would weep for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span>
+Nawa all day and night, and would grow sick and die
+on our hands. But there is no Nawa waiting for
+Tillie. Tillie is tired of her tepee with no man in it.
+Iron Hair has smiled upon me, Snow-Burner. I will
+smile upon him. His smile will answer mine as the
+dry pine lights up when the match is touched to it. I
+have looked in his eyes and know. He will forget
+Neopa. Tillie will help the Snow-Burner rob Iron
+Hair. Is it well?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get back to your blankets,” commanded Reivers.
+“If you wish it, we will let it be so. Sleep long. Do
+not stir until you hear that Iron Hair has awakened.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span><a name='chXXXVII' id='chXXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXXVII—INTO THE JAWS OF THE BEAR</h2>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir stirred when the first rays of the
+morning sun, glancing off the snow, struck his
+eyes. He rose like a musk-ox lifting itself from its
+snow wallow, with mighty heaves and grunts, and
+looked around.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was blear-eyed and puffed of face, his throat
+was raw and burning from the unbelievable amount
+of hooch he had swallowed in the night, but his abnormal
+organisation had thrown off the effects of the
+alcohol and he was cold sober. His first move was to
+cool his throat with handfuls of snow, his second to
+step over and regard the apparently paralysed Reivers
+with a look of mingled triumph and contempt.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh, old sonny! Would a drinked with Shanty
+Moir, wouldst ’ee?” he chuckled. “Happen thee got
+thy old soak’s skin filled to overflow that time. Get
+up, you waster!” he commanded, stirring the prostrate
+form with a heavy foot “Up with you!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers did not stir, but he put that touch of the
+foot down as something extra that Moir would have
+to pay for. He was apparently lying steeped in the
+depths of drunken slumber, and he wished to drive
+the impression firmly into Shanty Moir’s mind that he
+had been dead to the world all night. Hence he did
+not interrupt his snoring as Moir’s foot touched him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Laid out stiff!” laughed Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+He reached down, lifted Reivers’ head from the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span>
+snow and let it fall heavily. Still Reivers made no
+sign of awakening. Moir looked at him for a moment,
+then slily tiptoed toward the shelter tepee and threw
+up the flap. The next instant a bellow of rage shattered
+the morning quiet. Like a maddened bear Moir
+was back at Reivers, cuffing, kicking, cursing, commanding
+that he wake up.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers awoke only in degree. Not until Moir
+had opened a new bottle of hooch and poured a drink
+down his throat did he essay to sit up and open his
+eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wha’ smatter? Can’t a man shleep?” he protested.
+“Wha’ smatter with you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Matter!” bellowed Moir. “Plenty of matter, you
+old waster. Where’s the young lass, eh? Where’s the
+girl gone? Look in the tepee and see what’s the matter.
+You told me you had the trulls buffaloed. What’s
+become of the young girl?”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was some time before Reivers appeared to understand.
+Finally he stumbled to his feet and started
+toward the tent, met Tillie as she stepped out rubbing
+her eyes, and recoiled drunkenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Neopa? Where is she?” muttered Tillie. “She
+slept near the door. Now she is gone.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She had let her shiny black hair fall loosely over
+her shoulders and now she threw it back, looked
+straight at Moir and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Neopa gone?” demanded Reivers thickly. “She
+can’t be; she wouldn’t dare.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dare, you fool? Look there.” Moir pointed to
+the hollows where the missing dog team had lain and
+to the tracks that ran straight and true up the river
+bed. “She’s run away. Been gone half a night.
+Well, what have you got to say?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers turned with a scowl on Tillie, but Tillie
+was comfortably plaiting her thick hair.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Neopa has run away—back to our people,” she
+said with a smile, as she turned back into the tepee.
+“Tillie does not run away,” she added as she disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir sat down on a sledge and cursed Reivers steadily
+for five minutes, but at every few words his eyes
+would stray back to the tepee which hid Tillie.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We’ll go after her,” said Reivers. “We’ll bring
+her back.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go after her!” snorted Moir. “She has half a
+night’s start on us. She’ll reach her people before
+we could get her. Do you think I want half the
+country following my trail.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll go after her alone then,” insisted Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Will you?” Moir’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I
+think not. Let me tell thee something, old son: he
+who goes this far on the home trail with Shanty Moir
+goes all the way. Understand? You’ll come with me
+or you’ll be wolf-meat out here on the snow. No;
+there’ll be no following of that kid. She’s gone. The
+other one’s here. There is no telling what tale the
+kid will spin when she meets people, or who will be
+down here looking for our trail. Therefore we are
+going to travel and travel quick. Have the squaw
+get food in a hurry. Get your dogs together. We’ll
+be on the trail in half an hour.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir was masterful and dominant now. It was
+evident that he was more worried over the possibility
+of some one hearing of his whereabouts through
+Neopa than he was over the girl’s escape. He gave
+Reivers a second drink of liquor, since he seemed to
+need it to fully awaken him, and set about making
+ready for the trail.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eat plenty,” he commanded, when Tilly served
+the cold meat and tea. “The next meal you have will
+be about sundown.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+He tore down the tepee, packed the sledges and had
+the outfit ready for the start in an amazingly short
+while.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now, old son,” he said quietly, pointing to the rifle
+that lay uncovered on top of his sledge, “do ’ee take
+good look at her. She’s a good old Betsy and I’ve
+knocked o’er smaller men than you at the half mile.
+Do you keep well up with me on the trail I’ll be making
+this day and there’ll be no trouble. Try any tricks
+and the wolves will have whiskey-soaked meat to feed
+on. There’s no turning back now. He who comes
+this far with Shanty Moir goes all the way.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You can’t lose me, mister,” stammered Reivers.
+“I want that money for hooch for next Summer like
+you promised.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wilt get more than you bargained for, old son,”
+laughed Moir. “Yes, more than you ever dreamed
+of. Hi-yah! Buck! Bugle! Mush; mush up!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir made no pretence at hiding his trail when
+he started this time. Apparently he reasoned that
+the damage was done. If any one wished to trail
+him after hearing Neopa’s story they would have no
+trouble in finding his tracks, despite any subterfuge
+he might attempt. He went straight forward, as a
+man who has nothing to fear if he can but reach his
+fastness, and Reivers’ wonderment grew as the trail
+held straight toward the rising sun.
+</p>
+<p>
+The course was parallel to the one he had taken
+westward from MacGregor’s cabin to Tillie’s encampment.
+If it held on as it was going it would lead
+straight into the heart of the Dead Lands, and within
+half a day’s travel of the MacGregor home. Was
+it possible that the mine lay in the Dead Lands? Duncan
+MacGregor made this territory his trapping-ground.
+How could his brother’s find have escaped
+his trained outdoor eyes?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+The next instant Reivers was cursing himself for
+a blind fool. There was no trapping in the Dead
+Lands. There was no feed there. Except for a stray
+wolf-cave, fur-bearing beasts would shun those barren
+rocks as a desert, and Duncan MacGregor, being a
+knowing trapper, might trap around it twenty years
+without venturing through after a first fruitless search
+for signs.
+</p>
+<p>
+The mine was in the Dead Lands, of course. It
+was as safely hidden there as if within the bowels
+of the earth. And he, Reivers, had probably been
+within shooting distance of it during his two days’
+wandering in that district. The man whom he had
+killed with the rock had undoubtedly been hurrying
+with Hattie MacGregor straight to his chief’s fastness.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was noon when the ragged ground on the horizonhead
+told Reivers that his surmises were correct and
+that they were hurrying straight for the Dead Lands.
+An hour of travel and the jagged formation of the
+rock country was plainly distinguishable a little over
+a mile ahead. Then Moir for the first time that day
+called a halt. When Reivers caught up with him
+he saw that Moir held in each hand a small pouch-like
+contrivance of buckskin, pierced near the middle with
+tiny holes and equipped with draw-strings at the
+bottom.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come here, lass,” he beckoned to Tillie. “Must
+hide that smiling mouth of thine for the present.”
+</p>
+<p>
+With a laugh he threw the pouch over the squaw’s
+head, pulled the bottom tightly around her neck, and
+tied the strings securely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The same with thee, old son,” he said, and treated
+Reivers in the same summary manner. “You see, I do
+not wish to have to put you away,” he explained
+genially, “and that I would do if by chance thy eyes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span>
+should see the way to Shanty Moir’s mine. One or
+two men have been unlucky enough to see it. They
+will never be able to tell the tale.” He skilfully
+searched the pair for hidden weapons, but Reivers had
+expected this and carried not so much as a knife. “All
+right. Keep in my steps, old son. Presently thou’ll
+get wet. Do not fear. Wilt not let ’ee come to harm.
+Neither thee nor tuh squaw. I have use for you
+both. Come now; I’ll go slow.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The buckskin pouch pierced only by the tiny air-holes,
+masked Reivers’ eyes in a fashion that precluded
+any possible chance of sight. He knew instinctively
+that Moir was turning. First the turn was
+to the left. Then back to the right. Then in a circle,
+and after that straight ahead.
+</p>
+<p>
+Presently the feel of a sharp rock underfoot told
+him that they had entered the Dead Lands. He stumbled
+purposely to one side of the trail and bumped
+squarely against a solid wall of stone. Next he tried
+it on the opposite side with the same result. Moir
+was leading the way through a narrow defile in the
+rocks.
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly there came to Reivers’ ears the sound of
+running water, the lazy murmur of a small brook.
+Almost at the same instant came the splash of Moir
+and his dogs going into the stream and Moir’s
+laughing:
+</p>
+<p>
+“Wilt get a little wet here, old son. But follow
+on.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Fumbling with his feet Reivers found the stream
+and stepped in. To his surprise the water was warm.
+Warm water? Where had he seen warm water recently
+in this country? His thoughts leaped back with
+a snap. There was only one open stream to be found
+thereabouts, and that was the brook that came from
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span>
+the warm springs by which he had camped on his way
+to Tillie’s.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Warm water!” laughed Moir. “Wilt find all snug
+in my camp. Aye, as snug as in a well-kept jail.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The stream was knee-deep, and by the pressure of
+the water against the back of his legs Reivers knew
+that they were going down-stream. Presently Moir
+spoke again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now, if you value the tops of your heads, do you
+duck as low as you can. Duck now, quick; and do
+you keep that position till I tell you to straighten up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers and Tillie ducked obediently. Suddenly the
+tiny light that had come through the air-holes of
+their masks was shut out. The darkness was complete.
+Reivers thrust his hand above his bowed head
+and came in contact with cold, clammy rock. No
+wonder it had taken MacGregor and Moir two years
+to find the mine, since the way to it lay by a subterranean
+river!
+</p>
+<p>
+The light reappeared, but it was not the sunny light
+that had come through the air-holes before they had
+entered the river tunnel. It was grey and dead, as
+the light in a room where the sunshine does not enter.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now you can lift your heads,” laughed Moir.
+“Come to the right. Up the bank. Here we are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He jerked Reivers out of the water roughly, and
+roughly pulled the sack from his head. Reivers
+blinked as the light struck his eyes. Moir treated
+him to a generous kick.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Welcome,” he hissed menacingly. “Welcome to
+the camp of Shanty Moir.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span><a name='chXXXVIII' id='chXXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII—MACGREGOR ROY</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers’ first impression was that he was standing
+in a gigantic stockade. The second that he
+was on the floor of a great quarry-pit. Then, when
+the situation grew clear to him, he stood dumfounded.
+</p>
+<p>
+The camp of Shanty Moir lay in what would have
+been a solid rock cave but for the lack of a roof.
+It was an irregular hollow in the strange formation
+of the Dead Lands, perhaps fifty yards long and thirty
+yards wide at its greatest breadth. The hollow was
+surrounded completely by ragged stone walls about
+fifty feet in height. These walls slanted inward to
+a startling degree. Thus while the floor of the strange
+spot was thirty yards wide, the opening above, through
+which showed the far-away sky, could scarcely have
+been more than half that width. The brook ran
+through the middle of the chasm, entering the upper
+end by a tunnel five feet in height and disappearing in
+the solid wall of rock at the lower end by a similar
+opening.
+</p>
+<p>
+On each side of the narrow stream, and running
+back to the rock walls, was a floor of smooth river-sand.
+Beneath an overhanging ledge on the side where
+Reivers stood were the rude skin fronts of two dugouts.
+A tin smoke-stack protruded from the larger
+of the two habitations; the other, which was high
+enough only to admit a man stooping far over, was
+merely a flap of hide hanging down from the rock.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+On the beach at the other side of the creek a fire
+burned beneath a great iron pan, the wood smoke filling
+the chasm with its pungent odour. Behind the fire
+a series of tunnels ran down in the sand under the
+cliffs. From the tunnel immediately behind the fire
+came a thin spiral of sluggish smoke, and Reivers
+knew that this tunnel was being worked and that the
+fire was being used to thaw the frozen earth.
+</p>
+<p>
+A man who resembled Moir on a small scale was
+at work at the thawing-pan, breaking the hard earth
+with his fingers and tossing it into a washing-pan
+at his side. He stood now with a chunk of frozen sand
+in his hand, and at sight of Reivers and Tillie he
+tossed the sand recklessly into the air and whooped.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ha! Hast done well this time, Shanty,” he cried
+in an accent similar to theirs. “Hast made tuh life
+endurable. A new horse for me and a woman for
+’ee. ’Tis high time. Since Blacky went off and did
+not come back, and tuh two Indians tried to flee, we’ve
+had but one horse to do with. Now wilt have two.
+Wilt clean up in a hurry now, and live in tuh meanwhile.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir laughed harshly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How works tuh old Scot jackass to-day?” he
+called.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man across the creek shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“He’s never tuh horse he was when we first put
+him in harness,” he chuckled. “Fell twice in his
+tracks to-day, he did, and lay there till Joey gave him
+an inch of tuh prod. Has been a good beastie, the
+Scot has, Shanty, but ’tis in my mind tuh climate does
+not ‘gree with him. Scarce able to pull his load. In
+tuh mines at home we knocked such worn beasties in
+the head and sent them up o’ tuh pit.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir laughed again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hast a quaint way o’ putting things, Tammy,” he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span>
+said. “But I mind when ponies were scarce we used
+them till they crawled their knees raw. ’Tis plenty
+o’ time to knock old horse-flesh in tuh head when tuh
+job’s done.”
+</p>
+<p>
+They laughed together. Evidently this was a well-liked
+camp joke.
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis a well-coupled animal ’ee have there, Shanty,”
+said the humourist across the water, with a jerk of
+the head at Reivers. “Big in tuh bone and solid
+around tuh withers. Yon squaw is a solid piece, too.
+Happen they’re broke to pull double?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Unbroke stock, Tammy,” drawled Moir leisurely.
+“Gentleman, squaw-man, waster. But breaking stock’s
+our specialty, eh, Tammy?”
+</p>
+<p>
+A muffled shout floated up from the mouth of the
+smoking pit before Tammy could reply. Instantly
+there followed a dull moan of pain: Moir and Tommy
+laughed knowingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Here comes sample of our work,” said Tammy,
+nodding toward the tunnel. “Poor Joey! Has to
+use tuh prod to start him with each load now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+A grating, shuffling sound now came from the mouth
+of the tunnel. Following it appeared the head of a
+man. And Reivers needed only one glance at the
+emaciated countenance to know that he was looking
+upon the father of Hattie MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Giddap, Scotch jackass!” roared Moir in great
+good humour. “Pull it out o’ there. That’s tuh
+horse. Pull!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The man came painfully, an inch at a time, out
+of the pit, and looked across the creek at Shanty Moir.
+Behind him there dragged a rough wooden sledge
+loaded with lumps of earth. The man was hitched
+to this load by a harness of straps that held his arms
+helpless against his sides. No strait-jacket ever held
+its victim more utterly helpless than the contrivance
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span>
+which now held James MacGregor in toils as a beast
+of burden. A contrivance of straps about the ankles
+held his legs close together.
+</p>
+<p>
+So short were the traces by which the sledge was
+drawn that MacGregor could not have stood upright
+without having lifted the heavy load a foot or more
+from the ground. He made no attempt to stand so,
+but hung half-bowed against the harness, his eyes
+gleaming through the matted red hair over his brows
+straight at Shanty Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the eyes that drew and held Reivers’ attention
+to the face, rather than to the man’s terrible
+situation. James MacGregor, helpless beast of burden
+to his tormentors that he was, was not beaten.
+The same clean-cut nose, mouth and chin that Reivers
+remembered so well in the daughter were apparent
+in the father’s pain-marked face. The eyes gleamed
+defiance. And they were wide and grey, Reivers saw,
+the same as the eyes that haunted him in memory’s
+pictures of the girl who had not feared his glance.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shanty Moir,” spoke MacGregor in a voice weak
+but firm, “when the devil made you he cursed his own
+work. He cursed you as a misbegotten thing not fit
+for hell. The gut-eating wolverine is a brave beast
+compared to you. Skunks would run from your company.
+You think you have done big work. You fool!
+You cannot rob me of what belongs to me and mine;
+you cannot kill me. As sure as there is a God in
+Heaven, He will let me or mine kill you with bare
+hands.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir and his man laughed in weary fashion, as if
+this speech were old to them, and Reivers was amazed
+at an impulse within him to throw himself at Shanty
+Moir’s throat. He joined foolishly in the laughter
+to hide his confusion. What had he to do with such
+impulses? What business had he having any
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span>
+feeling for the poor enslaved man before him? He had
+come to Moir’s camp for one purpose: to get the gold
+mined there, to get a new start in life. Was it possible
+that he was growing weak enough to experience
+the feeling of pity, the impulse to help the helpless?
+Nonsense! He laughed loudly. His plan was one in
+which silly impulses of this nature had no part, and
+he would go through with it to the end.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well brayed, Scots jackass,” said the man at the
+thawing-pan casually. “Now pull tuh load over here.
+Giddap-pull!”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor leaned weakly against the harness, but
+the sledge had lodged and his depleted strength was
+insufficient to budge it.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh ho! Getting lazy, eh?” came from the tunnel,
+and a thin-faced man came out, a short stick with a
+sharp brad in his hands. “Want help, eh? Well,
+here ’tis,” he chuckled, and drove the brad into MacGregor’s
+leg.
+</p>
+<p>
+Again the strange impulse to leap to the tortured
+man’s rescue, to kill his tormentor without reckoning
+the price or what might come after, stirred itself in
+Reivers’ breast, and again he joined in the laughter
+to pass it off.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor started as the iron entered his flesh
+and the movement loosened the sledge. With weak,
+faltering steps he drew the load alongside the fire,
+where Tammy proceeded to transfer the frozen chunks
+of earth to the thawing-pan.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh, hah! New cattle?” said the man with the
+prod when he espied Reivers and Tillie. “Cow and
+bull.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Cow—and an old ox, Joey,” laughed Moir. “Has
+even burnt his horns off with hooch, and wilt go
+well in the harness when he’s broke.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“’Tis time,” said Joey. “Tuh Scots jackass’ll soon
+drop in his tracks.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not until I’ve paid you out in full, you devils,”
+said MacGregor quietly. “I’ll give you an hour of
+living hell for every prod you’ve given me, you poor
+cur.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Joey approached him and unhooked the traces from
+his harness with an air that told how well he was
+accustomed to such threats.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Must call it a day, Shanty,” he said, loosening
+the straps that bound MacGregor’s hands so the forearms
+were free while the upper arms remained bound
+tightly to his sides. “Old pit’s full o’ smoke.” In
+bored sort of fashion he kicked MacGregor into the
+creek. “To your stable, jackass. Day’s done.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor, tripped by the traps about his ankles,
+fell full length in the water, floundered across, and
+crawled miserably out of sight behind the skin front
+of the smaller dugout. Moir and his two henchmen
+watched him, jeering and laughing. At a sign the
+two on the other side of the creek came across and
+drew close to their chief.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And now, old son,” snarled Moir, swinging around
+on Reivers like a flash, “now, you slick waster—now
+we’ll attend to ’ee.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span><a name='chXXXIX' id='chXXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXXIX—JAMES MACGREGOR’S STORY</h2>
+<p>
+The three men moved forward until they were
+within arm’s reach of Reivers, and stood regarding
+him with open grins on their hairy faces. Reivers,
+reading the import of their grins, knew that they
+were bent upon enjoying themselves at his expense,
+and tried swiftly to guess what form their amusement
+might take. If it were only horse-play he would
+be able to continue in the helpless character he had
+assumed. If it were to be rougher than that, if they
+set out to break him in real earnest, he feared that his
+acting was at an end.
+</p>
+<p>
+Even for the sake of the gold that he was after
+he would hardly be able to submit, humbly and helplessly
+as became a drunken squaw-man, to their efforts
+to make a wreck of him. He calculated his chances
+of coming through alive if the situation developed to
+this extreme, and decided that the odds were a trifle
+too heavy against him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The element of surprise would be on his side, but
+his right shoulder still was weak from the old bullet-wound.
+With his terrible ability to use his feet he
+calculated that he could drop Moir and Tammy with
+broken bones as they rushed him. To do that he
+would have to drop to his back, and Joey, the third
+man, wore a long skinning-knife on his hip. No, if
+he began to fight he would never get what he had come
+after. He wiped his mouth furtively and swayed
+from the knees up.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“I want some hooch, mister, that’s what I want,”
+he whined shakily. “You promised you’d give me
+a drink when we got here, you know you did. Haven’t
+had a drop since morning. I wouldn’t ‘a’ come if
+I’d known you were going to treat me like this.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he did the best acting of his life. He jumped
+sideways and shuddered; he frantically plucked imaginary
+bugs off his coat sleeve; he stepped high as if
+stepping over something on the ground; his eyes and
+face muscles worked spasmodically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“O-ooh! Gimme a drink,” he begged. “Please
+gimme a drink. I gotta have it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+The grins faded from the faces before him. They
+knew full well the signs of incipient delirium tremens.
+Tammy laughed dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hast brought home more than an old ox and a
+cow, Shanty,” he said. “Hast brought a whole menagerie.
+Yon stick’ll have tuh Wullies in a minute if
+he’s not liquored.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers dropped to his knees, shuddering, his arms
+shielding his eyes from imaginary beasts of the bottle.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take ’em away, boys,” he pleaded. “Kill the
+big ones, let the little ones go.”
+</p>
+<p>
+With a snarl Moir leaped to his sledge and knocked
+the neck off a bottle of hooch.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Drink, you scut!” he growled. “I’ll have dealings
+with you when you’re sobered up.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers drank and began to doze. Moir kicked
+him upright.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get into the shed with t’other jackass,” he commanded,
+propelling him toward the dugout into which
+MacGregor had crawled. “And in tuh morning you
+go to work, e’en though snakes be crawling all o’er
+’ee.”
+</p>
+<p>
+A faintly muttered curse greeted Reivers as he
+crawled into the dugout.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“You poor curs! What do you want with me now?”
+came MacGregor’s voice from a corner of the tiny
+room. “You skunk——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Easy, MacGregor Roy,” whispered Reivers quietly.
+“It’s not one of the ‘skunks.’”
+</p>
+<p>
+“MacGregor Roy!” By the light that entered by a
+slit in the skin-flap Reivers could see the Scotchman
+painfully lifting his head from his miserable bunk, as
+he hoarsely repeated his own name. “MacGregor
+Roy! Who are you, stranger, to call James MacGregor
+by his family name?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’m the man that Shanty Moir brought in this
+afternoon,” whispered Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I know, I know,” gasped MacGregor weakly. “But
+men do not call me MacGregor Roy. James MacGregor
+they call me, unless—unless——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Unless they have the ‘Roy’ straight from the lips
+of your daughter, Hattie.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For a full minute MacGregor sat stricken speechless.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man, man! Speak!” The unfortunate man came
+wriggling over and laid his hands pleadingly on Reivers.
+“Don’t play with me. Is my daughter Hattie
+alive and well?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Very much alive,” replied Reivers, “and as well as
+can be expected of a girl who is worrying her heart
+out over why her father doesn’t return or send her
+word.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have they no’ guessed—has no’ my brother Duncan
+guessed by this time?” gasped MacGregor. “Can
+not they understand that I must be dead or held captive
+since I do not return? Speak, man, tell me how
+’tis with them!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers waited until the poor man had become
+more quiet before replying to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’d better quiet down a little MacGregor,” he
+whispered then. “You can’t tell when your friends
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span>
+might be listening, and it wouldn’t do either of us
+any good if they heard what we’re saying.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“True,” said the old man more quietly. “I’m acting
+like an old woman. But for three months I’ve been
+trapped like this, and my head fairly swims when I
+hear you speak of Hattie. How come you to know
+of her?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had
+been cared for at the MacGregor cabin.
+</p>
+<p>
+“And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to
+her from the black devil they sent to steal her? You
+must know, man, they taunted me by sending——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I know,” interrupted Reivers; and he told how
+he had disposed of the kidnapper.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You—you did that?” MacGregor clutched Reivers’s
+hand. “You saved my little Hattie?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“None of that,” snapped Reivers, snatching away
+his hand. “I did nothing for your little Hattie. Why
+should I? What is your Hattie to me? I simply
+put that black-beard out of business because I needed
+food and he had it on the sledge.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yet you’re not one of the gang here—now? You
+are no’ anything but a friend of me and mine?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A friend?” sneered Reivers. “I’ll tell you, Mac:
+I’m here as my own friend, absolutely nothing else.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But Hattie—and my brother Duncan—they understand
+about me now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“They know you’re either dead or worse,” was the
+reply. “And they’re at Dumont’s Camp now, waiting
+for Moir to come there on a spree, when they expect
+to trail him back to this camp.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor nodded his head weakly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could
+be expected. Please Heaven, they’ll soon win here.
+And James MacGregor will not forget what he owes
+you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span>
+when the time of reckoning comes with Moir and his
+poor curs.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed coldly under his breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man
+who’s trussed up the way you are.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will
+with me much longer,” said the Scot firmly. “It isna
+posseeble.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘This dog of a Moir’ must be a better man than
+you are,” taunted Reivers. “He fooled you and
+trapped you as soon as you’d found this mine.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Did he?” MacGregor flared up. “Shanty Moir a
+better man than me? Hoot, no! He fooled me, yes,
+for I didna know that he’d got word to these three
+hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him;
+he was my pardner. And when we returned with
+proveesions for the Winter the three devils were waiting
+for us, just inside the wall, where the creek
+comes through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha’
+done it. The three of them jumped on me from
+above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me.
+</p>
+<p>
+“They’ve kept me strapped ever since. I’m draft
+beast for them. Twice a day they feed me. And
+between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing
+before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half
+mine.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, well, it doesn’t look to me as if there’d be
+enough gold here to bother about,” said Reivers casually.
+“It’s nothing but a little freak pocket by the
+looks of it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“So it is. A freak pocket. It could be nothing else
+in this district. ’Twas only by chance we found it,
+exploring the creek in here out of curiosity. ’Twas in
+the bowels of the warm spring up yon, where the
+creek starts, that the pocket was originally. The
+spring boiled it out into the creek, and the creek washed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span>
+it down here in its bed of sand. The sand lodged here,
+against these rock walls. There’s about a hundred
+feet of the sand, running down under the cliffs, and it’s
+all pocket. Not a rich pocket, as you say, but Shanty
+Moir is filthy with nuggets and dust now, and there’ll
+be some more in the sand that’s left to work over.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not a bonanza, man, but a good-sized fortune.
+‘Twould be enough to send my Hattie to school.
+’Twould give her all the comforts of the world.
+’Twould make folk look up to her. And Shanty
+Moir, the devil’s spawn, has it in his keeping.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And he’ll probably see that it continues in his keeping,
+too,” yawned Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Never!” swore MacGregor, rising to the bait.
+“Shanty Moir did me dirt too foul to prosper by it,
+and I’m a better man than he is, besides. The stuff
+will come into my hands, where it belongs, some way.
+I dinna see just how for the present. But the stuff,
+and my revenge I will have. E’en shackled as I am I’ll
+have my revenge, though it’s only to bite the windpipe
+out of Shanty Moir’s throat like a mad dog.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Huh!” Reivers was lying face down on some
+blankets, apparently but little interested. “And suppose
+you do get Shanty Moir? What good will that
+do you? I’ll bet Shanty’s got the gold hid where
+nobody could find it without getting directions from
+him. Suppose you get him. Suppose you get all
+three of ’em. Shanty Moir being dead, the nuggets
+and dust probably’d be as completely lost as they were
+before you two boys found the pocket in the first
+place.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For a long time MacGregor sat in his corner of the
+dugout without replying. Reivers could see that at
+times he raised his head, even opened his mouth as if
+to speak, then sank back undecided. At last he hunched
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span>
+himself forward inch by inch to the front of the dugout
+and lifted the flap.
+</p>
+<p>
+The light of day had gone from the cavern. On
+the sand before the larger dugout blazed a brisk cooking-fire.
+In the confined space the light from its
+flames was magnified, reflecting from rock-wall and
+running water, and illuminating brightly the miserable
+hole in which Reivers and MacGregor lay.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor held up the flap for several minutes,
+studying Reivers, and though Reivers looked back
+with the look in his eyes that made most men quail,
+the old man’s sharp grey eyes studied him unruffled,
+even as the eyes of his daughter had done before.
+</p>
+<p>
+“By the Big Nail, ’tis a man’s man!” muttered MacGregor,
+dropping the flap at last. “How in the name
+of self-respect did the likes of you fall prey to the cur,
+Shanty Moir?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Self-respect?” sniggered Reivers. “Did you notice
+me out there when you were laying your curse on
+Moir?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye. You were far gone in liquor then—by the
+looks of you. You’ll mind I say ‘by the looks of
+you.’ You are not in liquor now. That’s what
+puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch
+so quickly. You were playing at being drunk. Now,
+why might that be?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir
+thinking I’m a drunken squaw-man without brains or
+nerve enough to do anything but sponge for hooch.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye? And your reason for that?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“My reason for that?” Reivers laughed under his
+breath. “Why, did you ever hear of a more popular
+reason for a man risking his throat than gold? I
+heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan
+and your daughter. I need—or rather, I want
+money. Shanty Moir had won over you and had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span>
+gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away
+from him. Isn’t that simple?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Simple and spoken well,” said MacGregor calmly.
+“Will you answer me one question: Did you serve
+notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on
+this hunt?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I did.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail
+and do what he can if he speaks out fair. I take it
+you hardly calculated to find me here alive?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“No, I didn’t think Moir was such an amateur as
+to take any chances.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that’s why I’m
+alive, and no other reason. And finding me here alive,
+does it alter your plans any?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Only a trifle. You see, I’d made up my mind to
+bring Moir and your daughter Hattie face to face to
+see if she could make good on her big talk of taking
+revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I
+see you’re still alive—well, I won’t let any little foolishness
+like that interfere with the business I’ve come
+on.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I mean about the gold, man?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+“About the gold?” he repeated.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the
+gold, here, alive and hoping to win back with my share
+to my daughter Hattie—does it make any change in
+your plans?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers chuckled softly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not in the slightest,” he replied. “I came to get
+the stuff that’s come out of this mine. Take a look
+at me. Do I look like a soft fool who’d let anything
+interfere with my plans?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dinna understand ye, mon,” he said. “I canna
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span>
+make you out. By the look of you I’d be wishful to
+strike hands with you as one good man to another; but
+your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the
+stuff that’s been taken out of this mine—Shanty
+Moir’s half—I have made up my mind shall be yours
+for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from
+black shame. Will you na’ strike hands on a partnership
+like that between us?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers yawned.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Why should I? You’re ‘all in.’ You can’t help
+me any. I’ll have to do the job of getting the gold
+away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I don’t
+want any help, and I certainly won’t make any unnecessary
+split.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man,” whispered MacGregor in horror, “is there
+naught but a piece of ice where your heart should
+be? Do you not understand it’s for a poor, unprovided
+girl I’m talking? A man you might rob; but have you
+the coldness in your heart to rob my little, unfortunate
+Hattie?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“‘Little, unfortunate Hattie!’” mocked Reivers.
+“Consider her robbed already. What then?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A word to Shanty Moir and you’re as good as
+dead,” retorted MacGregor hotly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ long right arm shot out and terrible fingers
+clutched MacGregor’s throat. The old man wriggled
+and gasped and tried to cry out, but Reivers held him
+voiceless and helpless and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“One word to Shanty Moir, and—you see?” he said,
+releasing his hold. “Then your little, unfortunate
+Hattie would be robbed for sure.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man—man—what are you, man or devil?” gasped
+MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Devil, if it suits you,” said Reivers. “But, remember,
+I’ll manage to be within reach of you when
+Shanty Moir’s about, and I rather fancy Moir would
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span>
+be glad to have me put you out of business. Now
+listen to me. I’ve no objection to your getting out of
+here alive—if you can. I’ve no objection to your getting
+your revenge on Moir, if you can, provided that
+none of this interferes with my getting what I came
+after. You know now what I can and will do if necessary.
+Your life lies right there.” He opened and
+closed his right hand significantly. “Well, I’ll trade
+you your life for a little information. Where does
+Shanty keep his gold?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor ceased gasping. He began to laugh.
+He leaned over and laughed. He rocked from side to
+side.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man, man! Do you not know that? That proves
+you’re only human!” he chuckled. “You came out
+here, like a lamb led to slaughter, to find where Shanty
+Moir keeps his gold. You were on the trail with
+Shanty. You had him where it was only one man
+to one. Well—well, the joke is too good to keep:
+Shanty Moir, day and night, wears a big buckskin
+belt about the middle of him, and the gold—the gold
+is in the belt!”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span><a name='chXL' id='chXL'></a>CHAPTER XL—THE WHITE MAN’S SENTIMENT</h2>
+<p>
+It was very still in the dugout. Suddenly Reivers
+leaned forward to see if MacGregor were telling
+the truth. Satisfied with his scrutiny he sat back and
+laughed softly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“In a belt, around his middle, eh?” he said. “Good
+work. Mr. Moir is cautious enough to be interesting.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Cautious!” MacGregor threw up the flap of the
+dugout. “Look out there, man.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked. On the sand directly before the
+door lay chained a huge, husky dog, an ugly, starved
+brute with mad eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Try but to crawl outside the shack,” suggested
+MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers tried. His head had no more than appeared
+outside when the dog sprang. The chain jerked him
+back as his teeth clashed where Reivers’ head had been.
+He leaped thrice more, striving to hurl himself into the
+dugout, then returned to his place and lay down, growling.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Very cautious,” agreed Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+He peered carefully out toward the cooking-fire.
+The fire had died down now and was deserted. By
+the sounds coming from the larger dugout Reivers
+knew that Moir and his men were occupied with their
+supper, supplemented by occasional drafts of liquor,
+and once more he crawled out upon the sand.
+</p>
+<p>
+With a snarl the great dog leaped again, his bared
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span>
+fangs flashing in the night. The snarl died in a choke.
+Reivers’ long arms flashed out and his fingers caught
+the dog by the throat so swiftly and surely that not
+another sound came from between its teeth. It was
+a big, strong dog and it died hard, but out there on
+the sand Reivers sat, silently keeping his hold till the
+last sign of life had gone from the brute’s body. Not
+a sound rose to attract attention from the larger dugout.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the animal was quite dead Reivers crawled
+forward and untied the chain that held it to a rock.
+Noiselessly he crawled farther on and noiselessly
+slipped the carcass into the brook. The brisk current
+caught it and dragged it down. Reivers waited until
+he saw the thing disappear into the dark tunnel at
+the lower end of the cavern, then returned to the dugout
+and quietly lay down on his blankets.
+</p>
+<p>
+“God’s blood!” gasped MacGregor and sat silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” yawned Reivers, “our friend Moir is short
+one dog.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You crazy fool!” MacGregor was grinding his
+teeth. “Ha’ you no’ thought of what Shanty Moir
+will do when he finds what you’ve done to his watch-dog?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What I have done?” Reivers laughed his idiotic
+squaw-man’s laugh. “D’you suppose a poor old bum
+like me could throttle a man-eater like that beast?
+You’ll be the one to be blamed for it. Why should I
+touch Moir’s dog? Moir and I came here together,
+chummy as a couple of thieves.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“You would not—you could not do that? You
+could not put it on me? Man, they’d drop me in
+the river after the beast, if you got them to believe it.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well?” said Reivers gently.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Scot bit his lip and grew crafty.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well,” he said, “there’d be only you left then to
+do the dirt-hauling for Shanty Moir.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers nodded appreciatively.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You deserve something for that, Mac,” said he.
+</p>
+<p>
+He lay silent for a few minutes. Then he chuckled
+suddenly as if he had thought of a good joke.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Watch me closely now, Mac,” he ordered, “and if
+you ever feel like speaking that word to Moir, I’ll
+holler at you worse than this.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He rolled himself to the front of the dugout, and
+suddenly there rang out in the cavern such a shriek of
+terror as stopped the blood in the veins of all who
+heard. Twice Reivers uttered his horrible cry. Then
+he began to shout drunkenly:
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take him off, take him away! Oh, oh, oh! Big
+dog coming out of the river. Take him away. Big
+dog swimming in the river. Take him away. Help,
+help!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout
+in advance of the others. He came with a six-shooter
+in his hand, and the gun covered Reivers,
+huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a
+vise. But Reivers observed that Moir stopped well
+out of reach.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What tuh ——!” roared Muir, as he noted the
+absence of the watch-dog. “What devil’s work——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The dog!” chattered Reivers. “Big dog; big as a
+house. Came out of the river. Tried to jump on me.
+Jumped back into the river. Swimming—swimming
+out there.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till
+it pointed straight at Reivers’s forehead. He did
+not step forward, but remained well out of reach.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Steady, old son,” he said quietly, “steady, or this’ll
+go off.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended
+to come back to his senses.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Gimme a drink, mister,” he pleaded. “I’m seeing
+things. I was sure there was a big dog out there.
+I’d ‘a’ sworn I saw him jump into the river. Now
+I see there isn’t, but gimme a drink—quick!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey,” snapped
+Moir over his shoulder. “Wilt see about this.” He
+turned the weapon on the cowering MacGregor.
+“Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What’s
+been done here; where’s Tige?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Was it a real dog?” cried Reivers before MacGregor
+could reply. “I saw something—he went
+into the river.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Speak, you!” said Moir to the Scotchman. “Speak
+quick.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“He’s telling you straight,” replied MacGregor,
+with a nod toward Reivers. “The dog went into the
+river. I saw him go down, out of sight.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Out of sight,” muttered Reivers, swallowing the
+drink which Joey had brought him. “So it was a real
+dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he jumped
+back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he
+went into the river and never came out.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir stepped over and examined the rock from
+which Reivers had slipped the dog’s chain.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tammy,” he said quietly. Tammy came obediently,
+stopping a good two paces away from Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+“See that?” said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy
+nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, but——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and
+into tuh river and is lost.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shanty, I swear——”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Swear all you want to, lad,” said Moir and dropped
+him cold with a light tap on the jaw.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pick him up.” Moir’s moving revolver had seemed
+to cover every one present, but now the muzzle hesitated
+on Joey. “Carry him into tuh shack.”
+</p>
+<p>
+As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little
+dugout, but stopped well out of reach of a possible
+rush.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Old son,” he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed
+at Reivers’ right eye, “old son, if you yell again tonight
+let it be your prayers, because you’ll need ’em.
+Dost hear? I suspect ’twas thy yelling scared Tige
+into the river. Wouldst send thee down after him,
+only I’ve use for you in tuh pits. Crawl in and lie
+still if wouldst live till daylight, —— you. Wilt pay
+for the loss of Tige, I warn you that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned away and Reivers fell back on his blankets
+chuckling boyishly. He was in fine fettle. The
+Snow-Burner was coming back to his old form, and in
+the delight of the moment’s difficulties he had temporarily
+lost the softening memories that had disturbed
+him of late.
+</p>
+<p>
+“How was it, old-timer?” he laughed. “Could you
+pick any flaw in it?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor shook his head in wonder.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I had a man go fey on me once, up on the Slave
+Lake trail,” he said slowly. “He let go just such
+yells as came from your mouth now. I’m thinking
+no man could yell so lest he’s fey himself, or has
+travelled wi’ auld Nickie and stole some of his music.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Quite so. Exactly the impression I wished to
+create,” said Reivers. “I thank you for your compliment,
+but your analysis is all wrong. Complete
+control of your vocal organs, that’s all. You see I
+wished to let out just such a yell. It was rather hard,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span>
+because my vocal organs never had made such a sound
+before, and they protested. I forced them to do it.
+</p>
+<p>
+“The man with the superior mind can force his body
+to do anything. Understand, Mac? It’s the superior
+mind that counts. If you’d had a mind superior to
+Moir’s you’d be top dog here, with Moir fetching
+bones for you. As it is, you’re doing the fetching,
+and Moir’s growing fat. And here I come along,
+with a mind superior to Moir’s, and I’m going to be
+top dog now and gobble the whole proceeds of your
+squabbling. The mind, Mac, the grey stuff in the little
+bone-box at the top of your neck, that’s all that counts.
+Nothing else. And I’ve got the best grey matter in
+this camp, and I’m going to be top dog as a matter of
+course.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor flared up hotly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You say, that’s all that counts?” he said. “D’you
+mean to tell me to my face that after I’d struck hands
+with a man to be my partner, as I did with Shanty
+Moir, that I’d turn on him and play him the scurvy
+trick he played me, just because I could? Well, if
+you say that, mon, you lie, and I throw the word
+smack in your teeth. Go back on my hand-shake,
+just to be top dog and get the bones! God’s blood!
+There’s other things better than bones, and there’s
+other things that count besides a superior mind. How
+many times do you suppose I could have shot Shanty
+Moir after we’d found this mine?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not once. You didn’t have it in you. You couldn’t
+do it. If you could you’d have been the superior
+man, and you’re not.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor thought it over.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You’re right, mon, I couldn’t do it. I thank God
+I couldn’t. I’d rather be the slave I am at present
+than be able to do things like that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sentiment, Mac; foolish, unreasonable sentiment.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Sentiment!” MacGregor spoke hotly, then suddenly
+subsided. “Yes, you’re right, lad,” he admitted
+after awhile. “It’s naught but sentiment. I see now.
+It’s the kind of sentiment that white men die for, and
+that makes them the boss men of the world. Well, lad,
+I am sorry to hear you talk as if ’twas only your
+skin was white. But I do not see you top dog of
+this camp yet. I’ll warrant Shanty Moir didn’t allow
+you to slip a gun or knife into camp. And did you
+notice the little tool he had in his hand?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A six-shooter,” said Reivers. “A crude weapon
+compared to a good mind, MacGregor.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye? I’m glad to hear you say so, lad, for I’ve
+only a mind, such as it is, left me for a weapon, and
+I’m quite sure I must overcome the six-gun in Shanty’s
+hand ere I ever win back to lay eyes on my daughter
+Hattie.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your daughter Hattie!” Reivers sat up, jarred out
+of his composure. “You forget your daughter Hattie;
+you hear, MacGregor? And now shut up. There’s
+been enough yawping to-night; I want to sleep.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He rolled himself tightly in his blankets. MacGregor
+crawled miserably to his corner and huddled
+down to sleep as best he could in his cruel shackles.
+The dugout grew as still as a tomb. Faint sounds
+came from the place where Moir and his men were
+living, but as the night grew older these ceased, and
+a silence as complete and primitive as it knew before
+man bent his steps thither fell over the isolated cavern.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers did not sleep. MacGregor’s last words
+had done the work. “My daughter Hattie.” Hattie
+with the clean, pure face of her. Hattie with the
+wide grey eyes; with the look of pain upon her.
+Curse MacGregor! What business had he mentioning
+that name? Reivers had forgotten, or thought he
+had. He was himself again. And then this old fool—curse
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span>
+him! Curse the whole MacGregor tribe. And
+especially did he curse himself for being weak and
+foolish enough to permit such trifles to interfere with
+his sleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+He dozed away toward daylight and dreamed that
+Hattie MacGregor was looking at him. The hard
+look on her face had softened a little, and she said she
+was glad he had sent Neopa back to her lover, Nawa.
+</p>
+<p>
+“—— you, get out of there!”
+</p>
+<p>
+In his half-waking Reivers fancied it was his own
+voice driving the picture from his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get out, beasts, and get out quick!”
+</p>
+<p>
+It was Shanty Moir’s voice and he was calling to
+MacGregor and Reivers to get up.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span><a name='chXLI' id='chXLI'></a>CHAPTER XLI—SHANTY MOIR—TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers came forth from the dugout, stooped
+and shaking, the drunken squaw-man’s morning
+condition to perfection, but in reality alert and watchful
+for the opportunity he was seeking. He had had a
+bad night, and he was anxious to have the job over
+with and get away with his loot to some place where
+he could forget.
+</p>
+<p>
+A surprise awaited him outside. Two tin plates
+loaded with meat and a tin cup half full of liquor
+were placed on the sand before the dugout. Ten feet
+away stood Shanty Moir, his six-shooter covering the
+two men as they emerged. With the instinct of the
+wild animal that he was, Moir knew the value of
+clamping his hold firmly on his victims in the cold
+grey of morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Drink and eat,” he said, satisfied with the humility
+with which the two went to their food. “Eat fast, or
+you’ll go into tuh pit with tuh belly empty.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I thought you hired me for a cook, mister,” whined
+Reivers, as he raised the tin cup to his lips. “I want
+to cook.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Cook, ——!” sneered Moir. “Tuh squaw’ll do all
+tuh cooking done here. Draft beast with tuh Scotch
+jackass, that’s what ’ee be, old ox. Hurry up. Wilt
+have a little of tuh prod?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the corner of his eye Reivers saw that MacGregor
+was eying the cup of liquor wistfully. Moved
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span>
+by an impulse that was strange to him he took a small
+drink and held out the cup to his companion. As MacGregor
+eagerly reached for it Moir’s gun crashed out
+and the cup flew from Reivers’s hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Tuh motto of this camp is, ‘No treating,’” chuckled
+Moir. “Hooch is good on tuh trail. We’re on tuh
+job now. You get liquor, old son, because ’tis medicine
+to you, and any hooch drinked here, I must prescribe.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Across the creek, Tammy, at work building a fire
+under the thawing-pan, heard his chief’s words and
+growled faintly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes, and ’ee prescribe terrible small doses, too,
+Shanty,” he muttered. “A good thing can be over-played.
+Hast no reason for refusing Joey and me a
+nip before starting work this morning.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Moir, moving like a soft-footed lynx, was across
+the creek and behind Tammy before the latter realised
+what was coming. From his position Moir now
+dominated the whole camp, and a sickly smile appeared
+on Tammy’s mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aw, Shanty!” he whined. “Didst only mean it for
+a joke. Can take a joke from an old chum, can’t ’ee,
+Shanty?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get into tuh pit, Tammy,” said Moir quietly,
+pointing with his gun to the tunnel where sounds indicated
+that Joey already was at work.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aw, Shanty——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Get in!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Slack-jawed with terror Tammy crawled into the
+dark tunnel.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh, Joey, ma son!” called Moir down the pit-mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye?” came back the answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Dost ’ee, too, think ’ee should have a drink this
+morn’?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, Shanty,” replied the unsuspecting Joey.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Have a hot one, then!” roared Shanty and kicked a
+blazing log from Tammy’s fire into the pit.
+</p>
+<p>
+A mingling of shrieks and protests greeted its arrival.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not
+take a joke?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Am taking it now, ma sons,” laughed Moir, and
+kicked more brands down the tunnel.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the
+tiny pit, Joey and Tammy essayed to crawl out. <i>Bang!</i>
+went Moir’s six-shooter and they hastily retreated.
+The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down
+at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the
+two unfortunate men were being suffocated. Moir
+waited until the faintness of the sounds told how far
+gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers
+with his revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit
+by this time.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Step down and drag ’em out, old son,” he said.
+“Come now, no hanging back. Tuh trigger on this
+gun is filed down so she pulls very light.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling
+with fear, and toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious
+men out, though he could have walked away
+with one under each arm.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Throw water on ’em. Splash ’em good.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting
+up, coughing and sneezing, and trying their best to
+make Moir believe they had only been joking.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good enough, ma sons; so was I,” chuckled Moir.
+“Now back to tuh job, and if ever you doubt who’s top
+man here you’ll stay in tuh pit till you’re browned
+well enough to eat. Dost hear me?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, Shanty,” said the two men humbly, and
+hurried back to their tasks.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and
+get into tuh harness,” commanded Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+He continued to hold the gun in his hand and
+motioned to the sledge near the thawing-pan. High
+side-boards had been placed on the sledge, making it
+capable of holding twice its former load, and a looped
+rope supplemented the traces to which MacGregor was
+so ignominiously hitched.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take hold of the rope, old son,” directed Moir.
+</p>
+<p>
+He did not approach as MacGregor resignedly led
+the way to the sledge. Tammy turned from his
+thawing-pan to hitch the Scotchman to his traces
+and to strap down his hands. Moir stood back, the
+gun in his hand, dominating all three.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now into tuh pit; Joey’s got a load waiting,” he
+commanded. “And one whine out of you, old ox, and
+you get the prod. Hi-jah! Giddap!”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span><a name='chXLII' id='chXLII'></a>CHAPTER XLII—THE SNOW-BURNER WORKS FOR TWO</h2>
+<p>
+With MacGregor leading the way, Reivers humbly
+picked up his rope and helped drag the
+sledge into the mine. The tunnel, high and broad
+enough only for two men to crawl abreast, ran at a
+steep slant into the sand for probably twenty-five
+feet. At its end it spread into a small room in which
+Joey was at work, chopping loose chunks of frozen
+earth.
+</p>
+<p>
+One glance around and Reivers knew from experience
+that this room had been the home of the pocket,
+and that, unless the signs lied, the pocket soon would
+be worked out. Judging by the extent of the excavation
+the pocket had been a good-sized one, and the
+amount of dust and nuggets taken from it undoubtedly
+would foot up to a neat sum. Yes, it would be a tidy
+fortune. It would be plenty to give him a new start in
+life, plenty to pay him for the trouble he had gone to,
+plenty even to pay him for the baseness of his present
+position.
+</p>
+<p>
+He obeyed Joey meekly when ordered, with curses
+and insults, to load the sledge. He could have throttled
+Joey down there in the mine without a sound coming
+up to warn those above of what was happening,
+but Moir’s conduct of the morning had made an impression
+upon Reivers. A man who kept himself
+out of reach, who kept his six-shooter pointed at you
+all the time, and who could shoot tin cups out of your
+moving hand, was not a man to be despised.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+The first hour of work that day convinced Moir
+and his henchmen that their original unflattering estimate
+of Reivers was correct. Even a close observer,
+regarding him during that period of probation, would
+have seen nothing to indicate that he was anything
+but what Shanty Moir had judged him to be. A miserable,
+broken-down squaw-man, without a will of his
+own, and only one ambition—to clamour for as much
+liquor as possible—that was the character that Reivers
+played perfectly for the benefit of Moir and his two
+men.
+</p>
+<p>
+At first, they kept an eye on him, watching to see
+if by any chance the old fool might be dangerous.
+They discovered that he would be dangerous if turned
+loose—to their supply of liquor. Beyond that he had,
+apparently, not a single aim in the world. His physical
+weakness, they soon discovered, was exactly what was
+to be expected of a whisky bloat. He was able to help
+haul the sledge-loads of frozen earth up the incline of
+the shaft, and that was all. Even that left him puffing
+and trembling.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is an old ox, as ’ee said, Shanty, with even tuh
+horns burnt off him by tuh hooch,” said Joey, after
+the first few loads. “Keep a little o’ tuh liquor running
+down his throat each day and he’ll be a good
+draft beast to us. Nothing to fear o’ him. Didst
+well when ’ee picked him out, chief.”
+</p>
+<p>
+They stopped watching him. He was harmless.
+Which was exactly the frame of mind which Reivers
+had worked to create.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor alone knew how cleverly Reivers was
+playing his part, and he regarded his new companion
+in misery with greater awe and swore beneath his
+breath in unholy admiration. He had excellent opportunity
+to appreciate Reivers’s ability to play the
+part of a weakling, for the Snow-Burner, when not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span>
+observed, caught his free hand in MacGregor’s traces
+and pulled the full weight of the heavy sledge as if it
+had been a boy’s plaything.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Eh, mon!” gasped the weakened Scotchman in relief.
+“I begin to comprehend now. ’Tis a surprise
+you’re planning for Shanty Moir. Oh, aye! ’Tis
+a braw joke. But you maun l’ave me finish him, man;
+’tis my right. And I thank you and will repay you
+well for the favour you are doing me in my present
+bunged-up condition.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Favour your eye!” snapped Reivers. “It’s easier
+to pull the whole thing than to have you dragging on
+it. Don’t think I’m doing it for your sake. You’ll
+have a rude awakening, my friend, if you’re building
+any hopes on me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dinna understand you,” said MacGregor with a
+shake of his head. “You’re different from any man I
+ever met. But at all events, you’ve made the loads
+lighter, and I think I must have perished soon had you
+not done so.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shut up!” hissed Reivers irritably. “I tell you
+I’m doing it because it’s easier for me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+His attitude toward the old man was brutally domineering
+when they were alone and openly abusive when
+they were in the presence of Moir or the others. He
+showered foul epithets upon him, pretended to shoulder
+the greater part of the work on him, and abused
+him in a fashion that won the approval of the three
+brutes over them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Make him do his share, old sonny,” roared Moir.
+“Wilt have tuh prod? Joey, give him tuh prod so he
+can poke up tuh jackass when he lags back.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t need no prod,” boasted Reivers. “I can
+handle him without any prod. Come on, pull up there,
+you loafer. Think I’m going to do it all?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor on such occasions would hold his head
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span>
+low to hide the gleam in his eyes and the grin that
+strove for room on his tightly pressed lips. His harness
+was hanging slack; Reivers took more of the load
+upon himself with every curse that he uttered.
+</p>
+<p>
+All through the day it was Reivers’ strength that
+pulled the heavy sledge up the dirt incline of the tunnel,
+and at night, when the day’s work was done, and
+MacGregor, tottering feebly toward his bunk, fell
+helpless through the dugout’s flap, Reivers picked him
+up, laid him down gently and placed his own blanket
+beneath his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“God bless you, lad!” whispered MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shut up!” hissed Reivers. “I don’t want any talk
+like that.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked down at the prostrate man for a moment.
+Then with a muttered curse he unloosened the straps
+that bound MacGregor’s arms to his sides and hurled
+himself over to his own side of the shack. He was
+very angry with himself. Pity and succour for the
+helpless had never before been a part of his creed.
+Why should he trouble about MacGregor?
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ll have to strap you up again in the morning,” he
+flung out suddenly, “but it won’t hurt to have your
+hands free for the night. Shut up—lay still! I hear
+somebody coming.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span><a name='chXLIII' id='chXLIII'></a>CHAPTER XLIII—“THE PENALTY OF A WHITE MAN’S MIND”</h2>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” It was Tillie who came,
+bearing the evening food, and Reivers crept
+out on the sand to meet her. “Oh, Snow-Burner,”
+she whispered quietly, “I am weary of this camp. The
+air is bad, and the country is not open. It is in my
+heart to poison Iron Hair as soon as the Snow-Burner
+says we are ready to go from this place.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers stared at her. A short while ago he would
+not have been shocked in the slightest degree to have
+heard this—to her, natural speech—fall from Tillie’s
+lips. But of late another woman, another kind of
+woman, had been in his thoughts, and Tillie’s words
+left him speechless for the moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+The squaw continued placidly—
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner comes here after gold?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And when he has the gold we go away?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good. The pig, Iron Hair, wears a great belt of
+buckskin about his middle. The gold is in there, much
+of it. I will poison him to-night, and we will take
+the belt and go away from here in the morning.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers made no reply. Here was success offered
+him without so much as a move of his hand. He need
+have no part in it, none at all. Tillie would bring him
+the gold belt. That was what he had come for; and
+hitherto he had never let anything in the world stand
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span>
+between him and the gratification of his desires. Yet
+he hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is there more gold here than Iron Hair wears in
+his belt?” asked Tillie.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Then why wait?” Her whisper was full of amazement.
+“It is not like the Snow-Burner. Was there
+ever a man who could make him do his will? And
+yet now the Snow-Burner labours for Iron Hair like
+a woman.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Like a woman?” He repeated her bold words in
+surprise, while she sat humbly awaiting the careless,
+back-hand blow which knocked her rolling on the sand.
+“And was that hand like the hand of a woman?” he
+asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie picked herself up with a gleam of hope in
+her eyes. It was long since the Snow-Burner had
+struck her strongly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, Snow-Burner!” she whispered proudly as she
+crawled back to his side. “Why do we wait? It is
+all ready. The Snow-Burner knows where the gold
+is that he came for. Tillie will do her share. The
+sleep-medicine is sewed in the corner of my blanket.
+There is enough to kill this big pig, Iron Hair, and his
+men three times over. Will not the Snow-Burner give
+the sign for Tillie to put the sleep-medicine in their
+food? Then they will sleep and not awaken, and the
+Snow-Burner and Tillie can go away with the gold.
+Was it not so that the Snow-Burner wished to do?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers nodded. That was what he wished.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was very simple. Only a nod. After that—the
+sleep-medicine, the tasteless Indian poison, the
+secret of which Tillie possessed, and which she would
+have used on a hundred men had Reivers given the
+word.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, it was very simple—except that he could not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span>
+forget Hattie MacGregor. The memory of her each
+hour had grown clearer, more torturing. Because of
+it he had taken the killing load of work from her
+father’s shoulders; because of it he was growing weak.
+He swore mutteringly as he thought of it. He had permitted
+her memory to soften him, to make a boy of
+him. But now he was himself again. Tillie’s words
+had done their work. He turned toward the squaw,
+and she saw by the look in his eyes that the Snow-Burner
+at last was going to give the fatal sign.
+</p>
+<p>
+“To-night,” she pleaded. “Let it be to-night. It is
+a bad camp here. The air is not good. Iron Hair is a
+pig. Let me give the sleep-medicine to-night; then
+we go from here in the morning—together.”
+</p>
+<p>
+She crept closer to him, slyly smiling up at him; and
+suddenly Reivers flung her away with a movement
+of loathing and sprang up, tall and straight.
+</p>
+<p>
+“No,” he said quietly, “not to-night.” And Tillie
+crouched at his feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Snow-Burner,” she whispered, “I hear Iron Hair
+and his men talk. They go away soon. They take
+the gold with them. Does not the Snow-Burner
+want the gold?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked down upon her. He was standing
+up, stiff and proud, as he should stand, but as he had
+not stood since he had begun to play at being a drunken
+squaw-man.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I do not want you to help me get the gold,” he
+said slowly. “I do not want you to give Iron Hair the
+sleep-medicine, to-night, or any night. I will take the
+gold from Iron Hair without your help. I have
+spoken.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood looking down at her, and Tillie, looking up
+at him, once more was reminded that he was a white
+man and that the vast gulf between them never might
+be bridged. Wearily, hopelessly, she rose to her feet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“The Snow-Burner has spoken; I have heard,” she
+whispered, and went humbly back into the large dugout.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed a small laugh of bitterness as he
+heard the flap drop behind her. He threw his head
+far back and gazed up at the slit of starlit sky that
+showed above the mouth of the cavern, and for once in
+his life he felt the common insignificance of human-kind
+alone in the vast scheme of Nature. He was
+weak; he had thrown away the easy way to success;
+he had let the memory of Hattie MacGregor’s face,
+flaring before his eyes in the instant that Tillie thrust
+her lips up to his, beat him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He threw up his great arms and held them out,
+tense and hard as bars of living steel. He felt of
+his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his legs, and he
+laughed sardonically.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Body, you’re just as superior to other men’s bodies
+as you ever were,” he mused. “Yes, Body, you’re
+just as fit to rend and prey on others as ever. But
+you’re handicapped now. You’re not permitted to do
+things as you used to do them. Body, you’re paying
+the penalty of being burdened with a white man’s
+mind.”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor looked up as Reivers re-entered the dugout
+bearing the evening food. A tiny fire in one corner
+lighted up the room and by its flickering flames
+he saw Reivers’ face.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Blood o’ God!” whispered the old man in awe.
+“What’s come over you, man?”
+</p>
+<p>
+He rose on his elbow and peered more closely.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man—man—you ha’ not overcome Shanty Moir?
+You have not finished him without letting me——”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What are you talking about? Do I look as if
+I’d been fighting?”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor studied him seriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I donno,” said he slowly. “I donno that you look
+as if you had been fighting. But you come in with
+your head high up, and the look in your eyes of a
+man who has conquered. That I do know. Tell me,
+lad, what’s taken place wi’ you outside?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“None of your business,” snapped Reivers. “Here’s
+your supper.” And he returned to his side of the
+dugout to sit down to think.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was on his mettle now. He had put to one side
+the easy, certain way to success that Tillie had offered.
+Success was not to be so easy as he had thought.
+Thus far it had been easy. He had met Moir, he had
+won his way into the mine, he had learned where the
+gold was hidden, all as he had planned. Remained
+to get the gold and get safely away. The time to
+do it in was short.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers’ experienced miner’s eyes had told him that
+the pocket was perilously near to being mined out.
+Any day, any hour now, and the pay-streak which they
+were following might end in barren dirt. That would
+be the end of his opportunity. Moir and his men
+would waste no time in the Dead Lands after making
+their cleanup. They would pack and travel at once,
+southward, to the railroad. They would not permit
+even so harmless an individual as a sodden squaw-man
+to trail them. Hence, Reivers knew that he must
+find or make his opportunity without waste of time
+and strike the instant it was found or made.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had been unable to find an opportunity that first
+day. Moir in his camp was a different man from Moir
+on the trail. He was the boss man here, and Reivers
+granted him ungrudged admiration for it. Liquor
+was his master on the trail; here he was master of it.
+His treatment of Joey and Tammy in the morning
+had explained his attitude on that question too clearly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span>
+to make it worth while to attempt to entice him into a
+bout at drinking. Moir was boss here, boss of himself
+and others, and he always had his six-shooter
+handy to prove it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tammy and Joey wore knives at their hips, but no
+guns. Moir’s 30.40 rifle hung carelessly on a nail
+near the door of his dugout. This had puzzled Reivers
+at first. Would a bad man like Moir be so simple as
+to leave his rifle where any one might lay hands on
+it, and carry a six-shooter in a manner to provoke
+a gun-fight? When he was ordered to carry a pail of
+water to the dugout Reivers managed to take a careful
+look at the rifle, and the puzzle was explained.
+The breech-block had been taken out and the fine
+weapon was no more deadly than any club eight
+pounds in weight.
+</p>
+<p>
+His respect for Moir had increased with this discovery.
+Evidently Moir was not so thick-headed
+after all. He took no chances. The only effective
+shooting-iron in camp was his six-shooter and, with
+this he was thoroughly master of the situation.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the first hour Reivers had noticed that Moir had
+a system of guarding himself. It was the system of
+the primitive fighting man and it consisted solely of:
+let no man get at your back. At no time, whether in
+the mine, at the washing-pans, in the open, or in the
+dugout did Moir permit any one to get behind him.
+He made no distinction. In the pit he stood with
+Joey before him. At the pans he worked behind
+Tammy. When the others grouped together he whirled
+as smoothly as a lynx if any one made to pass in his
+rear. Even when he sat at ease in the dugout with
+Tillie he placed his back against the bare stone wall
+at the rear of the room. So much Reivers had seen
+during his first day in the camp.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Does he sleep soundly at night?” he asked suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Who?” asked MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Moir, of course.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Soundly?” The Scotchman gritted his teeth. “Aye
+as soundly as a lynx lying down by its kill in a wolf
+country.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers smiled a grim smile. There was no chance,
+then, of rushing Shanty Moir in his sleep. It would
+be harder to get the gold and get away than he had
+expected. In fact, the difficulties of it presented quite
+a problem. He liked problems, did the Snow-Burner,
+and his smile grew more grim as he rolled himself
+in his blankets and lay down to wait, dream-tortured
+by pictures of Hattie MacGregor, for the coming of
+daylight of the day in which he had resolved to force
+the problem to solution.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span><a name='chXLIV' id='chXLIV'></a>CHAPTER XLIV—THE MADNESS OF “HELL-CAMP” REIVERS</h2>
+<p>
+The day opened as the day before had opened. A
+bellow from Shanty Moir, and Reivers strapped
+MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled
+out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood
+a distance away, the big six-shooter balanced easily
+in his hand. But this morning Joey and Tammy, over
+by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance
+of their two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly
+sensed something new and sinister afoot. At the
+sight of MacGregor’s decrepitude, as, stiff and tottering,
+he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy
+strove vainly to conceal the wolfish grins that appeared
+on their ugly faces.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep
+no longer,” said Tammy. “Hast been a fair animal
+for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on his oats
+no more.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“One fair day’s work left in him,” said Joey, appraising
+MacGregor shrewdly. “Will knock off a little
+early, eh, Shanty, so’s to have tuh light to see him
+swim.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of
+dust,” replied Shanty, and the three roared fiendishly
+together.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You poor, misbegotten spawn,” said MacGregor,
+quietly beginning to eat, eyeing them one after the
+other. “I’ll live to spit on the shamed corpses of the
+lot of you.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+As the day’s work began, Reivers started to calculate
+each move that he and Moir made with a view to discovering
+the opportunity he was looking for. All
+that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without
+giving the latter an opportunity to use his gun.
+</p>
+<p>
+The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and
+Tammy armed with knives, he accepted as a matter of
+course. But a six-shooter in the hands of a man who
+could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade
+too much even for him to venture against. The manner
+in which Moir had shot up the tin cup the morning
+before proved how alert and sure was his trigger-finger.
+To make the suspicion of a move toward him,
+with the gun in his hand, would have spelled instant
+ruin.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was
+more vigilant than ever. He kept far away from the
+pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or hanging
+ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first
+load of sand he understood why.
+</p>
+<p>
+The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing
+the drippings of dust washed down from the
+pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir
+was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of
+affairs. The fortune was in his grasp; he would
+break camp and be off in the same hour that the sand
+began to run low-grade.
+</p>
+<p>
+He took no part in the work to-day. He merely
+stood and watched. And Reivers watched back, and
+the hours passed, and the short day began to draw to a
+close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty
+Moir and live had presented itself.
+</p>
+<p>
+As the early twilight began to creep down into the
+cavern, the ugly grins with which Joey and Tammy
+regarded MacGregor began to increase. Suddenly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span>
+Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw
+up both hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!” he shouted.
+</p>
+<p>
+“All out!” came Moir’s bellow, as if he had been
+waiting for the signal.
+</p>
+<p>
+Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came
+over and stood behind Reivers and MacGregor who
+came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Take that load down yonder!” ordered Moir,
+pointing to the black tunnel into which the creek disappeared
+in leaving the cavern.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces
+behind the sledge. Moir, gun in hand, walked ten
+feet behind them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Whoa!” he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor
+had drawn up against the cliff beside the stream’s
+exit. “You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma sons.
+Then over with it quick.”
+</p>
+<p>
+With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor’s
+traces. They held him between them, and in his
+bound and weakened condition he was unable to
+struggle or turn around.
+</p>
+<p>
+Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor
+into the deep water in the tunnel. He sank like
+a stone and the current sucked him in.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!” laughed
+Moir, but he laughed a trifle too soon.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into
+the darkness of the tunnel his face bobbed up above
+the waters. He looked up, and looked straight into
+Reivers’s eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was
+the same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor
+the day when Reivers had left her cabin.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad.
+He hit Tammy so hard and true that he flew through
+the air and struck against Moir. The next instant
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span>
+Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water,
+groping for MacGregor, while the current swept him
+into the total darkness.
+</p>
+<p>
+He heard the bullet from Moir’s revolver strike the
+water behind him in the instant that his hands found
+MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he pulled the
+old man’s head above water; then the current whirled
+him and his burden away. It whisked him downstream
+with a power irresistible. It threw him from
+side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked
+him and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools
+and spewed them up again.
+</p>
+<p>
+He bumped his head against the stone roof of the
+tunnel and swore. The roof was a scant foot above
+the water. He put his hand up. The roof was getting
+closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was
+only room for their upturned faces above the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the
+end! The joke was on him. After all he had gone
+through, he was to drown like a silly fool through a
+fool’s impulse.
+</p>
+<p>
+Presently roof and water came together. For a
+moment Reivers fought with his vast strength, holding
+his own for an instant against the current, hanging
+on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort.
+The current proved too strong. It sucked them under;
+the water closed above them. They were whirled and
+buffeted to the last breath of life in them, and then
+suddenly their heads slipped above water and they
+were looking straight up at the gray Winter sky.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320'></a>320</span><a name='chXLV' id='chXLV'></a>CHAPTER XLV—A SURPRISE FOR SHANTY MOIR</h2>
+<p>
+Reivers caught hold of a spear of rock the instant
+his head came out of water, and held on. He
+did not try to think or understand at first. Sufficient
+to know that he was alive and to pump his lungs full of
+the air they were crying for. He held MacGregor
+under his left arm, and he rather wondered that he
+hadn’t let him go in that moment when he went under.
+MacGregor was beginning to revive, too. Reivers
+looked around.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was not much to see. They were in a tiny
+opening in the rocks, a yard or two in length. It was
+a duplicate of Moir’s cavern on a miniature scale, except
+that here the rock walls were not high or impossible
+to climb. For this space the brook showed itself
+once more to the sun, then vanished again under
+the cliffs.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Is it Heaven?” gasped MacGregor, only half conscious.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Nearer hell,” laughed Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+He lifted himself and his burden out of the water to
+a resting-place on a shelf of rock. For a minute or
+two he sat looking up at the rock walls and the grey
+sky above them. He looked down at the water, at
+the spot where they had been spewed from death back
+into life. And then he leaped upright and laughed,
+laughed so that the rocks rang with it, laughed so
+that MacGregor’s senses cleared and he looked at his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321'></a>321</span>
+saviour in consternation. His laughter was the uncontrollable,
+heart-free laughter of the man who suddenly
+sees a great joke upon his enemy.
+</p>
+<p>
+He smote MacGregor between the shoulder-blades so
+he gasped and coughed. He tore the straps and harness
+from his arms, body and legs, tossed him up in
+the air, shook him and set him down on the rock.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I’ve got him!” he said at last. “Oh, Shanty Moir,
+what a surprise you have coming to your own black
+self!”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor, with his senses cleared enough to realise
+that he was alive, and to remember how the miracle
+had come about, said quietly—
+</p>
+<p>
+“Man, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a man
+do.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“What?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Diving into that hole after me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Oh, to —— with that! That’s past. The past
+doesn’t count—not when the very immediate future
+is so full of juice and interest as happens to be the
+case just now. I’ve got Shanty Moir, old-timer. Do
+you understand? He’s mine and all that he’s got is
+mine, and he’s going to be surprised. Oh, how surprised
+he’s going to be!”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor looked down at the two yards of rushing
+water, up at the rock walls and then at the jubilant
+Reivers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dinna see it,” he said dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Really?” Reivers suddenly became interested in
+him as if he presented a rare mental problem. “Can’t
+you make that simple mind of yours work out the
+simple solution of this problem?”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What I see is this: we’re alive, and that only for
+the present. We’re in a little hole in the Dead Lands.
+Happen we climb out of the hole, we have no dogs,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322'></a>322</span>
+food, or weapons. The nearest camp is two good
+days’ mushing, with good fresh dogs. Too far. If
+I could manage to stagger five miles I’d surprise myself.
+There is not so much as a dry match on us.
+No, I maun say, lad, my simple mind does not see the
+solution of the problem.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Try again, Mac,” urged Reivers. “Make your
+mind work. What do we need to make our condition
+blessed among men; what do men need to be well-fitted
+on the Winter trail? You can make your mind
+do that sum, can’t you?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“We need,” replied MacGregor doggedly, “dogs,
+and food, and fire, and weapons.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Correct. And now what’s the next thought that
+your grey matter produces after that masterpiece?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That the nearest place where we may obtain these
+things is too far away for us to make, unless happen
+we meet some one on the trail, which is not likely.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pessimism!” laughed Reivers. “Too much caution
+stunts the possibility of the mind. Interesting demonstration
+of the fact, with your mind as an example.”
+He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone
+wall from under which they had just emerged. “What’s
+the other side of those rocks, Mac?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shanty Moir and his six-shooter.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges,
+and gold, everything, everything to make us kings
+of the country, Mac! And they’re ours—ours as
+surely as if we had ’em in our hands now.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I dinna see it,” said MacGregor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang
+get out of their camp?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Up-stream, by the creek, of course.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Any other way?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“There’s the way we came—but they do not know
+that.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323'></a>323</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“Correct, and when we’ve plugged up that single
+exit they can’t get away from us, Mac, and then we’ve
+got ’em!”
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor’s eyes lighted up, then he grew dour
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We have got ’em, if we plug up the river, I see,”
+he admitted, “but when we have got them, what good
+does it do us? What are you going to do, then?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s the surprise, Mac; I won’t tell even you.”
+He looked swiftly for a way up the rock walls and
+found one. “The first question is: Do you think you
+can climb after me up that crevice there?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I could climb through hell and back again if it
+would help in getting Shanty Moir.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right. I can’t quite give you hell, but I’ll
+give Shanty Moir an imitation of it before he’s much
+older. Come on. We’ve got some work to do before
+it gets dark.”
+</p>
+<p>
+He led the way into the crevice he had marked
+for the climb up from the hole and boosted MacGregor
+up before him. It was slow, hard work, but MacGregor’s
+weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping
+down upon Reivers’ shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently
+pulled him down, took him on his back and
+crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his
+burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods
+away smoke was rising through the opening above
+Moir’s camp, and at the sight of it MacGregor’s
+numbed faculties came to life.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Lemme go, man!” he pleaded as Reivers caught
+him as he staggered toward the opening. “It’s my
+chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from up
+here.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Save your strength; I’ve got use for it,” said Reivers.
+“Can you walk? All right. Come on, then, and
+don’t try to get near that gap.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324'></a>324</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way
+carefully around the big opening till they came to the
+opposite side of the mass of rocks, where the creek
+entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp.
+Crawling and slipping, they made their way down
+until they stood beside the bed of the stream.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Now to work, Mac,” said Reivers, and seizing
+a rock bore it to the tunnel’s mouth and dropped it
+into the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye, aye!” chuckled MacGregor, as he understood
+the significance of this move. “We’ll wall the curs in.”
+</p>
+<p>
+For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried
+and rolled the heaviest rocks he could move into position
+across the tunnel, and MacGregor staggered beneath
+smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their
+work was finished there was a rock wall across the
+mouth of the tunnel which it would have been almost
+impossible to tear down, especially from the inside.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was growing dark when the task was completed,
+and Reivers nodded in great satisfaction.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’ll hold ’em long enough for my purpose, and
+we just made it in time,” he said. “Now come on
+up the mountain again, and then for the surprise.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“The surprise, man?” panted MacGregor as he toiled
+up the rocks. “What are you going to do? Tell
+me what’s in your head?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hush, hush!” laughed Reivers, pulling him up to
+the top. “Your position is that of the onlooker. It
+would spoil it for you if you knew what was going to
+happen.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“An onlooker—me—when it’s a case of getting
+Shanty Moir? Don’t say that, lad. Don’t leave
+me out. He’s mine. You know that by all the rights
+of men and gods it’s my right to get him. Give me
+my just share of revenge.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shut up!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325'></a>325</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+They were nearing the brink of the opening. Reivers’
+hand covered MacGregor’s mouth as they leaned
+over and looked down upon the unsuspecting men in
+the cavern below.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the shut-in spot night had fallen. On the sand
+before the dugout Tillie was cooking over a brisk
+fire, going about her work as calmly as if nothing of
+moment had happened during the afternoon. Near by,
+Moir and Joey were packing the dog-sledge and repairing
+harness, evidently preparing to take the trail after
+the evening meal. Tammy sat by the fire, holding
+together with both hands the pieces of his nose which
+Reivers’ blow had smashed flat on his face.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers scarcely looked at the men, but began to
+scan the walls for a way to get down. The walls
+slanted inwardly from the top, and at first it seemed
+impossible that a man could get safely into the cavern
+without the aid of a rope. But presently Reivers saw
+that for thirty feet directly above the large dugout
+the rocks were ragged enough to afford plenty of holds
+for hands and feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+The walls were nearly fifty feet high. If he could
+reach to the bottom of this rough space he would be
+hanging with his feet, ten or twelve feet above the
+cavern floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Good enough,” he said aloud. “It’s a cinch.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“A cinch it is,” breathed MacGregor softly. “We’ll
+roll up a pile of rocks and kill ’em like rats in a pit.
+But you maun leave Shanty to me, lad, I——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Shut up!” Reivers thrust the Scotchman back from
+the brink. “Do you want me to go after the harness
+for you? I told you that your job was to be the onlooker.
+I settle this thing with Shanty Moir myself.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“But man——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Moir kicked me. Do you understand? He placed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326'></a>326</span>
+his dirty foot on me. Do you see why I’m going to
+do it by myself?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Placed his foot on you? God’s blood! What has
+he done to me—robbed me, made an animal of me,
+stabbed me with a prod! Who has the better right
+to his foul life?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“It isn’t a case of right, but of might, Mac,”
+chuckled Reivers. “I’ve got the better might. Therefore,
+will you give me your word that you’ll refrain
+from interfering with my actions until I’ve paid my
+debt to Mr. Moir, or must I go back after the harness
+and strap you up?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Cruel——”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Promise!”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I promise,” said MacGregor. “But it’s wrong,
+sore wrong. I protest.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“All right. Protest all you want to, but do it
+silently. Not another word or sound out of you now
+until the job’s done.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Together they crawled back to the brink above
+the large dugout and peered down into the darkening
+cavern. In a flash Reivers had his mackinaw
+and boots off. The cooking-fire was deserted. No
+one was in sight. Moir and his men and Tillie were
+at supper in the dugout, and Reivers’s chance had come.
+He swung himself silently over the brink and hung
+by a handhold on the rock.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Don’t interfere, Mac,” he said warningly. “Not
+till I’ve paid Shanty Moir for the touch of his foot.”
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327'></a>327</span><a name='chXLVI' id='chXLVI'></a>CHAPTER XLVI—A FIGHT THAT WAS A FIGHT</h2>
+<p>
+With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged
+feet forward and caught toe-holds on the
+rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right
+hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid
+piece of protruding rock. Having tested it thoroughly
+he let go his holds with both feet and left hand and
+dropped his full weight into the grip of his right.
+Above him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the
+brink of the opening, gasped twice, once because he
+was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the bottom,
+and again when his right hand took the shock of his
+full weight without loosening its grip.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he
+swung his feet inward again, secured another hold,
+lowered his right hand to another sure grip, and so
+made his startling way down the inwardly slanting
+cliff.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back,
+unable to stand the strain of watching. Had Reivers
+been able to see on top of the cliff he would have
+laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in
+the snow, earnestly praying.
+</p>
+<p>
+Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer
+down once more. Then he knew his prayers had been
+answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his hands,
+directly above the front of the large dugout, and
+his feet were less than ten feet above the bottom
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328'></a>328</span>
+of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop of thanksgiving
+and gathered to him an armful of stones.
+</p>
+<p>
+For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and
+appraising the situation. He loosened his hold until
+his whole weight hung on the ends of his fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Come out and fight, Shanty!” he bellowed suddenly.
+“Come out, you cheap cur, and fight like a
+man!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild
+animal on the instant of the weird challenge from
+above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in hand,
+tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and
+Reivers dropped and struck him neatly the instant
+he appeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir’s
+neck, Reivers would have killed him. He had no
+wish to kill him—yet. He landed on Moir’s shoulders
+and the six-shooter went flying away as the two
+bodies crashed together and dropped on the sand with a
+thud.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers was up first. It was well that he was.
+Tammy and Joey were only a step behind Moir. Like
+wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like wildcats they
+rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then
+Moir was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull,
+but he saw enough of the situation to satisfy him. Before
+him was something to fight, to rush, to annihilate.
+And he rushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped
+joyously, a stone in each hand, as Reivers leaped forward
+to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir had
+expected a grapple, and Reivers’ fist caught him full in
+the mouth and threw him back on his shoulders a
+man’s length away.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face
+had the appearance of crushed meat, but he growled
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329'></a>329</span>
+through the blood and rushed again. Reivers struck,
+and Moir’s nose disappeared in a welter of blood and
+gristle. He struck again, but Moir came on and
+locked him in his huge arms.
+</p>
+<p>
+Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were
+out. They saw their chance and leaped forward to
+strike at Reivers’ back. With his life depending upon
+it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir’s great body around,
+and Joey and Tammy stayed their hands barely in time
+to save plunging their knives into the back of their
+chief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two
+stones the size of his head. One struck Joey on the
+shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain into the
+dugout; the other dropped at Reivers’ feet. With a
+yell he hurled Moir from him and snatched up the
+stone. Joey, reading his doom in the Snow-Burner’s
+eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The
+heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck
+the water with a splash and was gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms
+licked around from behind and raised Reivers off his
+feet. The hold was broken as suddenly as it was
+clamped on. They were face to face again, and face
+to face they fought, trampling the sand and the fire
+indiscriminately. Each blow from Reivers now
+splashed blood from Moir’s face as from a soaked
+sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
+</p>
+<p>
+“That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That
+for the dirt you did me!”
+</p>
+<p>
+The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met
+the stone wall and came whining back. They cowered,
+jammering in fright at the terrible combat which raged,
+minute after minute, before them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A
+knife, dropped by Joey or Tammy, gleamed in the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330'></a>330</span>
+light of the fire. She picked it up. With a smile of
+great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly
+toward the struggling men. They were locked in a
+clinch now, and with the smile widening she moved
+around behind Moir’s broad back. The knife flashed
+above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he
+wrenched an arm free and knocked the knife away.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Keep away!” he roared, springing out of the clinch.
+“This is between Iron Hair and me.”
+</p>
+<p>
+Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing
+himself Reivers had hurled Moir to one side, and
+Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands nearly
+touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when
+Reivers had dropped upon him. Like the stab of a
+snake his hand reached out and snapped it up.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!” shrieked
+MacGregor and hurled another stone.
+</p>
+<p>
+His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir
+squarely on his big head and drove his face into the
+sand. He never moved after it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor
+on his knees was chanting his war-cry, his
+thanks that vengeance had not been denied him.
+Reivers smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+“That’s a good song, Mac, whatever it is!” he
+laughed, when the maddened Scotchman had grown
+quieter. “But the fact remains that you disobeyed
+my orders and interfered.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the
+black soul of Shanty Moir back to his brother the
+devil!” chanted MacGregor. “But, lad, I did not interfere
+until you’d paid him in full—until you’d paid
+double—for the kick he gave you. Three of them
+there were, and they were armed and you with bare
+fists! God’s blood! Never since men stood up with
+fist to fist has there been such fighting. One disabled,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331'></a>331</span>
+and two men dead! Dead you are, you poor pups!
+And I can tell by the way you lived where you’re
+roasting now.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah, ah! I ha’ seen a man fight; I ha’ seen what
+I shall never forget, and, poor stick that I am compared
+to him, I ha’ e’en had a hand in it myself. Man,
+man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your
+belly’s full of battle?”
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall
+as you can. I’ll take the heavy stones from this side.”
+He turned to Tillie. “Take the big belt from Iron
+Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the
+trail. We march to-night.”
+</p>
+<p>
+And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron
+Hair, the beaten.
+</p>
+<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332'></a>332</span><a name='chXLVII' id='chXLVII'></a>CHAPTER XLVII—THE SNOW-BURNER PAYS</h2>
+<p>
+“And now the Snow-Burner has his gold. He
+has robbed the great Iron Hair in his own
+camp. Great is the Snow-Burner! Now he has the
+gold which he longed for. Now he is rich. The
+white men will bow down to him. Great is the Snow-Burner!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he
+stood on the edge of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly
+crooned the saga of his success. The gold belt of
+Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great
+weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it
+contained. The dogs were held in leash, eager to be
+quit of the harsh rock-chasms through which they had
+just travelled, and to strike their lope on a trail over
+the open country beyond.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge.
+The exertions and excitement of the afternoon had exhausted
+him in his weakened condition. He sat
+slumped together, only half conscious of what was
+going on. In a moment he would be sound asleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He
+had the gold, and he had a supply of food and a
+strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail. All
+that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the
+south. Two, three, four days’ travelling and he would
+strike the railroad. And the railroad ran to tide-water,
+and on the water steamboats would carry him
+away to the world he had planned to return to.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333'></a>333</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie’s
+scheme for getting rid of Moir. But he couldn’t do
+it. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to do just
+one thing now, above all others, and that was what he
+set out to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around
+MacGregor’s middle. MacGregor was sound asleep
+now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound him
+carefully in place. Tillie’s chant died down in astonishment.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We take the old one with us?” she asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+“We do,” said Reivers. “Hi-yah! Together there!
+Mush, mush up!”
+</p>
+<p>
+To Tillie’s joy he turned the dogs to the northwest,
+in the direction of the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner
+was lost to her; she knew that, when he had
+refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something
+to have him come back to the camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought
+his team up the river-bed to Tillie’s camp in the morning.
+MacGregor was out of his head by then, and for
+the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat
+in the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him
+soft food which the old squaws had prepared. In the
+evening he again tied the old man and the belt of
+gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie
+had read her doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she
+came out to the sledge prepared to follow.
+</p>
+<p>
+“You do not come any farther,” said Reivers as
+he picked up the dog-whip.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tillie nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+“I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a
+great man among the white women. Will the Snow-Burner
+come back—some time?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“I will never come back.”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Ah-hh-hh!” Tillie’s breath came fiercely. “So
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334'></a>334</span>
+there is one white woman, then. If I had known——”
+</p>
+<p>
+But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and
+hurrying out of hearing.
+</p>
+<p>
+MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food,
+but still weak, lifted his head and looked around as
+the sledge sped over the frozen snow.
+</p>
+<p>
+“A new trail to me, lad,” he said. “Where to,
+now?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“On a fool’s trail,” laughed Reivers bitterly, and
+drove on.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning MacGregor recognised the land
+ahead.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Straight for Dumont’s Camp we’re heading, lad,”
+he said. “Is it there we go?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Yes.”
+</p>
+<p>
+They came to Dumont’s Camp as night fell. Reivers
+halted and made sundry enquiries.
+</p>
+<p>
+“In a shack half ways between here and Fifty Mile,”
+was the substance of the replies.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hi-yah! Mush, mush up!” and they were on the
+trail again.
+</p>
+<p>
+At daylight the next day, from a rise in the land,
+he saw the shack that had been designated. Smoke
+was rising from the chimney, and a small figure that
+he knew even at that distance came out, filled a pail
+with snow and went in again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Reivers stopped his dogs some distance from the
+shack. He threw MacGregor, gold belt and all, over
+his shoulder and went up to the door and knocked.
+For a second or two he smiled triumphantly as Hattie
+MacGregor opened the door and stood speechless at
+what she saw. Then he bowed low, laid his burden
+on the floor and went out without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+The dogs shuddered as they heard him laugh coming
+back to them.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hi-yah, mush!”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335'></a>335</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+He drove them furiously into a gully that shut out
+the sight of the shack and sat down on the sledge.
+The dogs whined. It was the time for the morning
+meal and the master was making no preparations to
+eat.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Still, you curs!” The whip fell mercilessly among
+them and they crouched in terror.
+</p>
+<p>
+The time went by. The sun began to climb upward
+in the sky. Still the man sat on the sledge, making no
+preparations for the morning meal. The memory of
+the whip-cuts died in the dogs’ minds under the growing
+clamour of hunger. They began to whine again.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Still!” The master was on his feet, but the whip
+had fallen from his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+Down at the end of the gully a small figure was
+coming over the snow. She was running, and her
+red hair flowed back over her shoulders, and she
+laughed aloud as she came up to him. The pain was
+gone from Hattie MacGregor’s lips, and her whole
+face beamed with a complete, unreasoning happiness,
+but the pride of her breed shone in her eyes even
+unto the end.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Well, well!” sneered Reivers. “Aren’t you afraid
+to come so near anything that pollutes the air?”
+</p>
+<p>
+She laughed again. She did not speak. She only
+looked at him and smiled, and by the Eve-wisdom in
+the smile he knew that his secret was hers. He felt
+himself weakening, but the Snow-Burner died hard.
+He tried to laugh his old, cold laugh, but the ice had
+been thawed in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+“What do you want?” he sneered. “I’m not a good
+enough man for you. Why did you come out here?”
+</p>
+<p>
+“Because I knew you would not go away again,”
+she said, “and because now I know you are a good
+enough man for me.”
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336'></a>336</span>
+</p>
+<p>
+“You red-haired trull!” He raised his hand to
+strike her.
+</p>
+<p>
+She did not flinch; she merely smiled up at him
+confidently, contentedly. Suddenly she caught his
+clenched fist in her hands and kissed it. With a curse
+Reivers swung around on his dogs.
+</p>
+<p>
+“Hi-yah! Mush, mush out of here!”
+</p>
+<p>
+Out of the gully into the open he kicked and drove
+them. He did not look back. He knew that she was
+following.
+</p>
+<p>
+She followed patiently. She knew that there was
+nothing else for her to do. She had known it the
+first day she had looked into his eyes. He was her
+man, and she must follow him.
+</p>
+<p>
+So she trudged on behind her man as he forced the
+tired dogs to move. She smiled as she walked, and
+the wisdom of Eve was in her smile. She had reason
+to smile, for the Snow-Burner was driving straight
+toward the little shack.
+</p>
+<p>
+&#160;<br />
+</p>
+<div class='center'>
+<p>THE END</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,10906 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Snow-Burner
+
+Author: Henry Oyen
+
+Release Date: May 16, 2011 [EBook #36121]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE
+GROUND]
+
+THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+BY HENRY OYEN
+
+Author of "The Man-Trail"
+
+NEW YORK
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS
+
+Copyright, 1916,
+
+By George H. Doran Company
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+COPYRIGHT 1914, 1915, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+        I. "Help!"                                          9
+       II. The Girl                                        16
+      III. Toppy Gets A Job                                21
+       IV. "Hell-Camp" Reivers                             31
+        V. Toppy Overhears a Conversation                  39
+       VI. "Nice Boy!"                                     44
+      VII. The Snow-Burner's Creed                         51
+     VIII. Toppy Works                                     62
+       IX. A Fresh Start                                   67
+        X. The Duel Begins                                 74
+       XI. "Hell-Camp" Court                               77
+      XII. Toppy's First Move                              94
+     XIII. Reivers Replies                                100
+      XIV. "Joker and Deuces Wild"                        106
+       XV. The Way of the Snow-Burner                     115
+      XVI. The Screws Tighten                             131
+     XVII. Tilly's Warning                                139
+    XVIII. "Canny by Nature"                              145
+      XIX. The Fight                                      150
+       XX. Toppy's Way                                    162
+      XXI. The End of the Boss                            165
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN
+
+     XXII. The Cheating of the River                      175
+    XXIII. The Girl Who Was Not Afraid                    183
+     XXIV. The Woman's Way                                193
+      XXV. Gold!                                          202
+     XXVI. The Look in a Woman's Eyes                     212
+    XXVII. On the Trail of Fortune                        219
+   XXVIII. The Snow-Burner Hunts                          229
+     XXIX. The White Man's Will                           233
+      XXX. Any Means to an End                            238
+     XXXI. The Squaw-Man                                  241
+    XXXII. The Scorn of a Pure Woman                      245
+   XXXIII. Shanty Moir                                    251
+    XXXIV. The Bargain                                    256
+     XXXV. The Test of the Bottle                         261
+    XXXVI. The Snow-Burner Begins To Weaken               265
+   XXXVII. Into the Jaws of the Bear                      270
+  XXXVIII. MacGregor Roy                                  277
+    XXXIX. James MacGregor's Story                        283
+       XL. The White Man's Sentiment                      293
+      XLI. Shanty-Moir-Temperance Advocate                301
+     XLII. The Snow-Burner Works for Two                  305
+    XLIII. "The Penalty of a White Man's Mind"            309
+     XLIV. The Madness of "Hell-Camp" Reivers             316
+      XLV. A Surprise for Shanty Moir                     320
+     XLVI. A Fight that was a Fight                       327
+    XLVII. The Snow-Burner Pays                           332
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW BURNER
+
+
+PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I--HELP
+
+
+The brisk November sunrise, breaking over the dark jack-pines, lighted
+up the dozen snow-covered frame buildings comprising the so-called town
+of Rail Head, and presently reached in through the uncurtained windows
+of the Northern Light saloon, where it shone upon the curly head of
+young Toppy Treplin as, pillowed on his crossed forearms, it lay in
+repose on one of the saloon tables.
+
+It was a sad, strange place to find Toppy Treplin, one-time All-American
+halfback, but for the last four years all-around moneyed loafer and
+waster. Rail Head was far from the beaten path. It lay at the end of
+sixty miles of narrow-gauge track that rambled westward into the Big
+Woods from the Iron Range Railroad line, and it consisted mainly of a
+box-car depot, an alleged hotel and six saloons--none of the latter being
+in any too good repute with the better element round about.
+
+The existence of the saloons might have explained Toppy's presence in
+Rail Head had their character and wares been of a nature to attract one
+of his critical tastes; but in reality Toppy was there because the Iron
+Range Limited, bearing Harvey Duncombe's private hunting-car, had
+stopped for a moment the night before out where the narrow-gauge met the
+Iron Range Railroad tracks.
+
+Toppy, at that fated moment, was out on the observation platform alone.
+There had been a row and Toppy had rushed out in a black rage. Within,
+the car reeked with the mingled odours of cigarette-smoke and spilled
+champagne. Out of doors the first snowfall of the season, faintly tinted
+by a newly risen moon, lay unmarked, undefiled.
+
+A girl--small, young, brisk and business-like--alighted from the car ahead
+and walked swiftly across the station platform to the narrow-gauge train
+that stood waiting. The anger and champagne raging in him had moved
+Toppy to one of those wild pranks which had made his name among his
+fellows synonymous with irresponsibility.
+
+He would get away from it all, away from Harvey Duncombe and his
+champagne, and all that sort of thing. He would show them!
+
+Toppy had stepped off. The Limited suddenly glided away. Toppy lurched
+over to the narrow gauge, and that was the last thing he had remembered
+of that memorable night.
+
+As the sun now revealed him, Mr. Robert Lovejoy Treplin, in spite of his
+deplorable condition, was a figure to win attention of a not entirely
+unfavourable sort. Still clad in mackinaw and hunting-clothes, his two
+hundred pounds of bone and muscle and just a little too much fat were
+sprawled picturesquely over the chair and table, the six-foot
+gracefulness of him being obvious despite his rough apparel and awkward
+position.
+
+His cap had fallen off and the sun glinted on a head of boyish brown
+curls. It was only in the lazy, good-natured face, puffy and
+loose-lipped, that one might read how recklessly Toppy Treplin had lived
+since achieving his football honours four years before.
+
+The sun crept up and found his eyes, and Toppy stirred. Slowly, even
+painfully, he raised his head from the table and looked around him. The
+crudeness of his surroundings made him sit up with a start. He looked
+first out of the window at the snow-covered "street." Across the way he
+saw a small, unpainted building bearing a scraggly sign, "Hotel." Beyond
+this the jack-pines loomed in a solid wall.
+
+Toppy shuddered. He turned his face toward the man behind the bar, who
+had been regarding him for some time with a look of mingled surprise and
+amusement. Toppy shuddered again.
+
+The man was a half-breed, and he wore a red woollen shirt. Worse, there
+was not a sign of a mirror behind the bar. It was distressing.
+
+"Good morning, brother," said Toppy, concealing his repugnance. "Might I
+ask you for a little information this pleasant morning?"
+
+The half-breed grinned appreciatively but sceptically.
+
+"Little drink, I guess you mean, don't you?" said he. "Go 'head."
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+"Thank you, brother, thank you. I am sorely puzzled about two little
+matters--where am I anyway, and if so, how did I get here?"
+
+The grin on the half-breed's face broadened. He pointed at the table in
+front of Toppy.
+
+"You been sleeping there since 'bout midnight las' night," he exclaimed.
+
+Toppy waved his left hand to indicate his displeasure at the inadequacy
+of the bartender's reply.
+
+"Obvious, my dear Watson, obvious," he said. "I know that I'm at this
+table, because here I am; and I know I've been sleeping here because I
+just woke up. Let's broaden the range of our information. What town is
+this, if it is a town, and if it is, how did I happen to come here, may
+I ask?"
+
+The half-breed's grin disappeared, gradually to give place to an
+expression of amazement.
+
+"You mean to say you come to this town and don't know what town it is?"
+he demanded. "Then why you come? What you do here?"
+
+Toppy's brow corrugated in an expression of deep puzzlement.
+
+"That's another thing that's rather puzzling, too, brother," he replied.
+"Why did I come? I'd like to know that, too. Like very, very much to
+know that. Where am I, how did I come here, and why? Three questions I'd
+like very, very much to have answered."
+
+He sat for a moment in deep thought, then turned toward the bartender
+with the pleased look of a man who has found an inspiration.
+
+"I tell you what you do, brother--you answer the first two questions and
+in the light of that information I'll see if I can't ponder out the
+third."
+
+The half-breed leaned heavily across the single-plank bar and watched
+Toppy closely.
+
+"This town is Rail Head," he said slowly, as if speaking to some one of
+whose mental capacity he had great doubts. "You come here by last
+night's train. You bring the train-crew over to have a drink; then you
+fall asleep. You been sleeping ever since. Now you remember?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The puzzled look went out of Toppy's eyes.
+
+"Now I remember. Row with Harvey Duncombe. Wanted me to drink two to his
+one. Stepped outside. Saw little train. Saw little girl. Stepped off big
+train, got on little train, and here I am. Fine little business."
+
+"You went to sleep in the train coming up, the conductor told me,"
+volunteered the half-breed. "You told them you wanted to go as far as
+you could, so they took you up here to the end of the line. You remember
+now, eh, why you come here?"
+
+"Only too well, brother," replied Toppy wearily. "I--I just came to see
+your beautiful little city."
+
+The bartender laughed bitterly.
+
+"You come to a fine place. Didn't you ever hear 'bout Rail Head?" he
+asked. "I guess not, or you wouldn't have come. This town's the
+jumping-off place, that's what she is. It's the most God-forsaken,
+hopeless excuse for a town in the whole North Country. There's only two
+kind of business here--shipping men out to Hell Camp and skinning them
+when they come back. That's all. What you think of that for a fine town
+you've landed in, eh?"
+
+"Fine," said Toppy. "I see you love it dearly, indeed."
+
+The half-breed nodded grimly.
+
+"It's all right for me; I own this place. Anybody else is sucker to come
+here, though. You ain't a Bohunk fool, so I don't think you come to hire
+out for Hell Camp. You just got too drunk, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Toppy, yawning. "What's this Hell Camp thing?
+Pleasant little name."
+
+"An' pleasant little place," supplemented the man mockingly. "Ain't you
+never heard 'bout Hell Camp? 'Bout its boss--Reivers--the 'Snow-Burner'?
+Huh! Perhaps you want hire out there for job?"
+
+"Perhaps," agreed Toppy. "What is it?"
+
+"Oh, it ain't nothing so much. Just big log-camp run by man named
+Reivers--that's all. Indians call him Snow-Burner. Twenty-five, thirty
+miles out in the bush, at Cameron Dam. That's all. Very big camp.
+Everybody who comes to this town is going out there to work, or else
+hiding out."
+
+"I see. But why the name?"
+
+"Hell Camp?" The bartender's grin appeared again; then, as if a second
+thought on the matter had occurred to him, he assumed a noncommittal
+expression and yawned. "Oh, that's just nickname the boys give it. You
+see, the boys from camp come to town here in the Spring. Then sometimes
+they raise ----. That's why some people call it Hell Camp. That's all.
+Cameron Dam Camp is the right name."
+
+"I see." Toppy was wondering why the man should take the trouble to lie
+to him. Of course he was lying. Even Toppy, with his bleared eyes, could
+see that the man had started to berate Hell Camp even as he had berated
+Rail Head and had suddenly switched and said nothing. It hurt Toppy's
+head. It wasn't fair to puzzle him this morning. "I see. Just--just a
+nickname."
+
+"That's all," said the bartender. Briskly changing the subject he said:
+"Well, how 'bout it, stranger? You going to have eye-opener this
+morning?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Toppy absently. He again turned his attention to
+the view from the window. On the low stairs of the hotel were seated
+half a dozen men whose flat, ox-like faces and foreign clothing marked
+them for immigrants, newly arrived, of the Slavic type. Some sat on
+wooden trunks oddly marked, others stood with bundles beneath their
+arms. They waited stolidly, blankly, with their eyes on the hotel door,
+as oxen wait for the coming of the man who is going to feed them. Toppy
+looked on with idle interest.
+
+"I didn't think you could see anything like that this far away from
+Ellis Island," he said. "What are those fellows, brother?"
+
+"Bohunks," said the bartender with a contemptuous jerk of the head.
+"They waiting to hire out for the Cameron Dam Camp. The agent he comes
+to the hotel. Well, what you going to have?"
+
+"Bring me a whisky sour," said Toppy, without taking his eyes off the
+group across the street. The half-breed grinned and placed before him a
+bottle of whisky and a glass. Toppy frowned.
+
+"A whisky sour, I said," he protested.
+
+"When you get this far in the woods," laughed the man, "they all come
+out of one bottle. Drink up."
+
+Once more Toppy shuddered. He was bored by this time.
+
+"Your jokes up here are worse than your booze," he said wearily.
+
+He poured out a scant drink and sat with the glass in his hand while his
+eyes were upon the group across the street. He was about to drink when a
+stir among the men drew his attention. The door of the hotel opened
+briskly. Toppy suddenly set down his glass.
+
+The girl who had got on the narrow-gauge out at the junction the night
+before had come out and was standing on the stairs, looking about her
+with an expression which to Toppy seemed plainly to spell, "Help!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II--THE GIRL
+
+
+Toppy sat and stared across the street at her with a feeling much like
+awe. The girl was standing forth in the full morning sunlight, and
+Toppy's first impulse was to cross the street to her, his second to hide
+his face. She was small and young, the girl, and beautiful. She was a
+blonde, such a blonde as is found only in the North. The sun lighted up
+the aureole of light hair surrounding her head, so that even Toppy
+behind the windows of the Northern Light caught a vision of its
+fineness. Her cheeks bore the red of perfect health showing through a
+perfect, fair complexion, and even the thick red mackinaw which she wore
+did not hide the trimness of the figure beneath.
+
+"What in the dickens is she doing here?" gasped Toppy. "She doesn't
+belong in a place like this."
+
+But if this were true the girl apparently was entirely unconscious of
+it. Among that group of ox-like Slavs she stood with her little chin in
+the air, as much at home, apparently, as if those men were all her good
+friends. Only she looked about her now and then as if anxiously seeking
+a way out of a dilemma.
+
+"What can she be doing here?" mused Toppy. "A little, pretty thing like
+her! She ought to be back home with mother and father and brother and
+sister, going to dancing-school, and all the rest of it."
+
+Toppy was no stranger to pretty girls. He had met pretty girls by the
+score while at college. He had been adored by dozens. After college he
+had met still more. None of them had interested him to any inconvenient
+extent. After all, a man's friends are all men.
+
+But this girl, Toppy admitted, struck him differently. He had never seen
+a girl that struck him like this before. He pushed his glass to one
+side. He was bored no longer. For the first time in four years the full
+shame of his mode of living was driven home to him, for as he feasted
+his eyes on the sun-kissed vision across the street his decent instincts
+whispered that a man who squandered and swilled his life away just
+because he had money had no right to raise his eyes to this girl.
+
+"You're a waster, that's what you are," said Toppy to himself, "and
+she's one of those sweet----"
+
+He was on his feet before the sentence was completed. In her perplexity
+the girl had turned to the men about her and apparently had asked a
+question. At first their utter unresponsiveness indicated that they did
+not understand.
+
+Then they began to smile, looking at one another and at the girl. The
+brutal manner in which they fixed their eyes upon her sent the blood
+into Toppy's throat. White men didn't look at a woman that way.
+
+Then one of the younger men spoke to the girl. Toppy saw her start and
+look at him with parted lips. The group gathered more closely around.
+The young man spoke again, grimacing and smirking bestially, and Toppy
+waited for no more. He was a waster and half drunk; but after all he was
+a white man, of the same breed as the girl on the stairs, and he knew
+his job.
+
+He came across the snow-covered street like Toppy Treplin of old bent
+upon making a touchdown. Into the group he walked, head up, shouldering
+and elbowing carelessly. Toppy caught the young speaker by both
+shoulders and hurled him bodily back among his fellows. For an instant
+they faced Toppy, snarling, their hands cautiously sliding toward hidden
+knives. Then they grovelled, cringing instinctively before the better
+breed.
+
+Toppy turned to the girl and removed his cap. She had not cried out nor
+moved, and now she looked Toppy squarely in the eye. Toppy promptly hung
+his head. He had been thinking of her as something of a child. Now he
+saw his mistake. She was young, it is true--little over twenty
+perhaps--but there was an air of self-reliance and seriousness about her
+as if she had known responsibilities beyond her years. And her eyes were
+blue, Toppy saw--the perfect blue that went with her fair complexion.
+
+"I beg pardon," stammered Toppy. "I just happened to see--it looked as if
+they were getting fresh--so I thought I'd come across and--and see if
+there was anything--anything I could do."
+
+"Thank you," said the girl a little breathlessly. "Are--are you the
+agent?"
+
+Toppy shook his head. The look of perplexity instantly returned to the
+girl's face.
+
+"I'm sorry; I wish I was," said Toppy. "If you'll tell me who the agent
+is, and so on--" he included most of the town of Rail Head in a
+comprehensive glance--"I'll probably be able to find him in a hurry."
+
+"Oh, I couldn't think of troubling you. Thank you ever so much, though,"
+she said hastily. "They told me in the hotel that he was outside here
+some place. I'll find him myself, thank you."
+
+She stepped off the stairs into the snow of the street, every inch and
+line of her, from her solid tan boots to her sensible tassel cap,
+expressing the self-reliance and independence of the girl who is
+accustomed and able to take care of herself under trying circumstances.
+
+The bright sun smote her eyes and she blinked, squinting deliciously.
+She paused for a moment, threw back her head and filled her lungs to the
+full with great drafts of the invigorating November air. Her mackinaw
+rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and more colour came rushing into
+the roses of her cheeks. Apparently she had forgotten the existence of
+the Slavs, who still stood glowering at her and Toppy.
+
+"Isn't it glorious?" she said, looking up at Toppy with her eyes
+puckered prettily from the sun. "Doesn't it just make you glad you're
+alive?"
+
+"You bet it does!" said Toppy eagerly. He saw his opportunity to
+continue the conversation and hastened to take advantage. "I never knew
+air could be as exciting as this. I never felt anything like it. It's my
+first experience up here in the woods; I'm an utter stranger around
+here."
+
+Having volunteered this information, he waited eagerly. The girl merely
+nodded.
+
+"Of course. Anybody could see that," she said simply.
+
+Toppy felt slightly abashed.
+
+"Then you--you're not a stranger around here?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head, the tassels of her cap and her aureole of light hair
+tossing gloriously.
+
+"I'm a stranger here in this town," she said, "but I've lived up here in
+the woods, as you call it, all my life except the two years I was away
+at school. Not right in the woods, of course, but in small towns around.
+My father was a timber-estimator before he was hurt, and naturally we
+had to live close to the woods."
+
+"Naturally," agreed Toppy, though he knew nothing about it. He tried to
+imagine any of the girls he knew back East accepting a stranger as a man
+and a brother who could be trusted at first hand, and he failed.
+
+"I say," he said as she stepped away. "Just a moment, please. About this
+agent-thing. Won't you please let me go and look for him?" He waved his
+hands at the six saloons. "You see, there aren't many places here that a
+lady can go looking for a man in."
+
+She hesitated, frowning at the lowly groggeries that constituted the
+major part of Rail Head's buildings.
+
+"That's so," she said with a smile.
+
+"Of course it is," said Toppy eagerly. "And the chances are that your
+man is in one of them, no matter who he is, because that's about the
+only place he can be here. You tell me who he is, or what he is, and
+I'll go hunt him up."
+
+"That's very kind of you." She hesitated for a moment, then accepted his
+offer without further parley. "It's the employment agent of the Cameron
+Dam Company that I'm looking for. I am to meet him here, according to a
+letter they sent me, and he is to furnish a team and driver to take me
+out to the Dam."
+
+Then she added calmly, "I'm going to keep books out there this Winter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III--TOPPY GETS A JOB
+
+
+Toppy gasped. In the first place, he had not been thinking of her as a
+"working girl." None of the girls that he knew belonged to that class.
+The notion that she, with the childish dimple in her chin and the roses
+in her cheeks, was a girl who made her own living was hard to
+assimilate; the idea that she was going out to a camp in the woods--out
+to Hell Camp--to work was absolutely impossible!
+
+"Keep books?" said Toppy, bewildered. "Do they keep books in a--in a
+logging-camp?"
+
+It was her turn to look surprised.
+
+"Do you know anything about Cameron Dam?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing," admitted Toppy. "It's a logging-camp, though, isn't it?"
+
+"Rather more than that, as I understand it," she replied. "They are
+building a town out there, according to my letter. There are over two
+hundred people there now. At present they're doing nothing but logging
+and building the dam; but they say they've found ore out there, and in
+the Spring the railroad is coming and the town will open up."
+
+"And--and you're going to keep books there this Winter?"
+
+She nodded. "They pay well. They're paying me seventy-five dollars a
+month and my board."
+
+"And you don't know anything about the place?"
+
+"Except what they've written in the letter engaging me."
+
+"And still you're going out there--to work?"
+
+"Of course," she said cheerfully. "Seventy-five-dollar jobs aren't to be
+picked up every day around here."
+
+"I see," said Toppy. He remembered Harvey Duncombe's champagne bill of
+the night before and grew thoughtful. He himself had shuddered a short
+while before, at waking in a bar where there was no mirror, and he had
+planned to wire Harvey for five hundred to take him back to
+civilisation. And here was this delicate little girl--as delicate to look
+upon as any of the petted and pampered girls he knew back
+East--cheerfully, even eagerly, setting her face toward the wilderness
+because therein lay a job paying the colossal sum of seventy-five
+dollars a month! And she was going alone!
+
+A reckless impulse swayed Toppy. He decided not to wire Harvey.
+
+"I see," he said thoughtfully. "I'll go find this agent. You'd better
+wait inside the hotel."
+
+He crossed the street and systematically began to search through the six
+saloons. In the third place he found his man shaking dice with an
+Indian. The agent was a lean, long-nosed individual who wore thick
+glasses and talked through his nose.
+
+"Yes, I'm the Cameron Dam agent," he drawled, curiously eying Toppy from
+head to toe. "Simmons is my name. What can I do for you?"
+
+"I want a job," said Toppy. "A job out at Hell Camp."
+
+The agent laughed shortly at the name.
+
+"You're wise, are you?" he said. "And still you want a job out there?
+Well, I'm sorry. That load of Bohunks across the street fills me up. I
+can't use any more rough labour just at present. I'm looking for a
+blacksmith's helper, but I guess that ain't you."
+
+"That's me," said Toppy resolutely. "That's the job I want--blacksmith's
+helper. That's my job."
+
+The agent looked him over with the critical eye of a man skilfully
+appraising bone and muscle.
+
+"You're big enough, that's sure," he drawled. "You've got the shoulders
+and arms, too, but--let's see your hands."
+
+Toppy held up his hands, huge in size, but entirely innocent of
+callouses or other signs of wear. The agent grinned.
+
+"Soft as a woman's," he said scornfully. "When did you ever do any
+blacksmithing? Long time ago, wasn't it? Before you were born, I guess."
+
+Toppy's right hand shot out and fell upon the agent's thin arm. Slowly
+and steadily he squeezed until the man writhed and grimaced with pain.
+
+"Wow! Leggo!" The agent peered over his thick glasses with something
+like admiration in his eyes. "Say, you're there with the grip, all
+right, big fellow. Where'd you get it?"
+
+"Swinging a sledge," lied Toppy solemnly. "And I've come here to get
+that job."
+
+Simmons shook his head.
+
+"I can't do it," he protested. "If I should send you out and you
+shouldn't make good, Reivers would be sore."
+
+"Who's this man Reivers?"
+
+The agent's eyes over his glasses expressed surprise.
+
+"I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?" he said.
+
+"Oh, I'm wise enough," said Toppy impatiently. "I know what it is. But
+who's this Reivers?"
+
+"He's the boss," said Simmons shortly. "D'you mean to say you never
+heard about Hell-Camp Reivers, the Snow-Burner?"
+
+"No, I haven't," replied Toppy impatiently. "But that doesn't make any
+difference. You send me out there; I'll make good, don't worry." He
+paused and sized his man up. "Come over here, Simmons," he said with a
+significant wink, leading the way toward the door. "I want that job; I
+want it badly." Toppy dived into his pockets. Two bills came to
+light--two twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons' hand. "That's
+how bad I want it. Now how about it?"
+
+The fashion in which Simmons' thin fingers closed upon the money told
+Toppy that he was not mistaken in the agent's character.
+
+"You'll be taking your own chances," warned Simmons, carefully pocketing
+the money. "If you don't make good--well, you'll have to explain to
+Reivers, that's all. You must have an awful good reason for wanting to
+go out."
+
+"I have."
+
+"Hiding from something, mebbe?" suggested Simmons.
+
+"Maybe," said Toppy. "And, say--there's a young lady over at the hotel
+who's looking for you. Said you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get
+out to Cameron Dam."
+
+An evil smile broke over the agent's thin face as he moved toward the
+door.
+
+"The new bookkeeper, I suppose," he said, winking at Toppy. "Aha! Now I
+understand why you----"
+
+Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His fingers sank into the
+man's withered biceps.
+
+"No, you don't understand," he hissed grimly. "Get that? You don't
+understand anything about it."
+
+"All right," snapped the cowed man. "Leggo my arm. I was just joshing.
+You can take a joke, can't you? Well, then, come along. As long as
+you're going out you might as well go at once. I've got to get a double
+team, anyhow, for the lady, and you've got to start now to make it
+before dark. Ready to start now?"
+
+"All ready," said Toppy.
+
+At the door the agent paused.
+
+"Say, you haven't said anything about wages yet," he said quizzically.
+
+"That's so," said Toppy, as if he had forgotten. "How much am I going to
+get?"
+
+"Sixty a month."
+
+The agent couldn't understand why the new man should laugh. It struck
+Toppy as funny that a little girl with a baby dimple in her chin should
+be earning more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey Duncombe
+and the rest of the bunch would have thought had they known.
+
+Toppy followed the agent to the stable behind the hotel, where Simmons
+routed out an old hunchbacked driver who soon brought forth a team of
+rangy bays drawing a light double-seated sleigh.
+
+"Company outfit," explained Simmons. "Have to have a team; one horse
+can't make it. You can ride in the front seat with the driver. The lady
+will ride behind."
+
+As Toppy clambered in Simmons hurriedly whispered something in the ear
+of the driver, who was fastening a trace. The hunchback nodded.
+
+"I got this job because I can keep my mouth shut," he muttered. "Don't
+you worry about anybody pumping me."
+
+He stepped in beside Toppy; and the bays, prancing in the snow, went
+around to the front of the hotel on the run. There was a wait of a few
+minutes; then Simmons came out, followed by the girl carrying her
+suitcase. Toppy sprang out and took it from her hand.
+
+"You people are going to be together on a long drive, so I'd better
+introduce you," said Simmons. "Miss Pearson, Mr. ----"
+
+"Treplin," said Toppy honestly.
+
+"Treplin," concluded Simmons. "New bookkeeper, new blacksmith's helper.
+Get in the back seat, Miss Pearson. Cover yourself well up with those
+robes. Bundle in--that's right. Put the suitcase under your feet. That's
+right. All right, Jerry," he drawled to the driver. "You'd better keep
+going pretty steady to make it before dark."
+
+"Don't nobody need to tell me my business," said the surly hunchback,
+tightening the lines; and without any more ado they were off, the snow
+flying from the heels of the mettlesome bays.
+
+For the first few miles the horses, fresh from the stable and
+exhilarated to the dancing-point by the sun, air and snow, provided
+excitement which prevented any attempt at conversation. Then, when their
+dancing and shying had ceased and they had settled down to a steady,
+long-legged jog that placed mile after mile of the white road behind
+them with the regularity of a machine, Toppy turned his eyes toward the
+girl in the back seat.
+
+He quickly turned them to the front again. Miss Pearson, snuggled down
+to her chin in the thick sleigh-robes, her eyes squinting deliciously
+beneath the sharp sun, was studying him with a frankness that was
+disconcerting, and Toppy, probably for the first time in his life, felt
+himself gripped by a great shyness and confusion. There was wonderment
+in the girl's eyes, and suspicion.
+
+"She's wise," thought Toppy sadly. "She knows I've been hitting it up,
+and she knows I made up my mind to come out here after I talked with
+her. A fine opinion she must have of me! Well, I deserve it. But just
+the same I've got to see the thing through now. I can't stand for her
+going out all alone to a place with a reputation like Hell Camp. I'm a
+dead one with her, all right; but I'll stick around and see that she
+gets a square deal."
+
+Consequently the drive, which Toppy had hoped would lead to more
+conversation and a closer acquaintance with the girl, resolved itself
+into a silent, monotonous affair which made him distinctly
+uncomfortable. He looked back at her again. This time also he caught her
+eyes full upon him, but this time after an instant's scrutiny she looked
+away with a trace of hardness about her lips.
+
+"I'm in bad at the start with her, sure," groaned Toppy inwardly. "She
+doesn't want a thing to do with me, and quite right at that."
+
+His tentative efforts at opening a conversation with the driver met
+instant and convincing failure.
+
+"I hear they've got quite a place out here," began Toppy casually.
+
+"None of my business if they have," grunted the driver.
+
+Toppy laughed.
+
+"You're a sociable brute! Why don't you bark and be done with it?"
+
+The driver viciously pulled the team to a dead stop and turned upon
+Toppy with a look that could come only from a spirit of complete
+malevolence.
+
+"Don't try to talk to me, young feller," he snapped, showing old yellow
+teeth. "My job is to haul you out there, and that's all. I don't talk.
+Don't waste your time trying to make me. Giddap!"
+
+He cut viciously at the horses with his whip, pulled his head into the
+collar of his fur coat with the motion of a turtle retiring into its
+shell, and for the rest of the drive spoke only to the horses.
+
+Toppy, snubbed by the driver and feeling himself shunned, perhaps even
+despised, by Miss Pearson, now had plenty of time to think over the
+situation calmly. The crisp November air whipping his face as the sleigh
+sped steadily along drove from his brain the remaining fumes of Harvey
+Buncombe's champagne. He saw the whole affair clearly now, and he
+promptly called himself a great fool.
+
+What business was it of his if a girl wanted to go out to work in a
+place like Hell Camp? Probably it was all right. Probably there was no
+necessity, no excuse for his having made a fool of himself by going with
+her. Why had he done it, anyhow? Getting interested in anything because
+of a girl was strange conduct for him. He couldn't call to mind a single
+tangible reason for his actions. He had acted on the impulse, as he had
+done scores of times before; and, as he had also done scores of times
+before, he felt that he had made a fool of himself.
+
+He tried to catch the girl's eyes once more, to read in them some sign
+of relenting, some excuse for opening a conversation. But as he turned
+his head Miss Pearson also turned and looked away with uncompromising
+severity. Toppy studied the purity of her profile, the innocence of the
+baby dimple in her chin, out of the corner of his eye. And as he turned
+and glanced at the evil face of the hunchback driver he settled himself
+with a sigh, and thought--
+
+"Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that I've been a fool, I am
+glad that I'm here."
+
+At noon the road plunged out of the scant jack-pine forest into the
+gloom of a hemlock swamp. Toppy shuddered as he contemplated what the
+fate of a man might be who should be unfortunate enough to get lost in
+that swamp. A mile in the swamp, on a slight knoll, they came to a tiny
+cabin guarding a gate across the road. An old, bearded woodsman came out
+of the cabin and opened the gate, and the hunchback pulled up and
+proceeded to feed his team.
+
+"Dinner's waiting inside," called the gate-tender. "Come in and eat,
+miss--and you, too; I suppose you're hungry?" he added to Toppy.
+
+"And hurry up, too," growled the hunchback. "I give you twenty minutes."
+
+"Thank you very much," said the girl, diving into her suitcase. "I've
+brought my own lunch."
+
+She brought out some sandwiches and proceeded to nibble at them without
+moving from the sleigh. Toppy tumbled into the cabin in company with the
+hunchback driver. A rough meal was on the table and they fell to without
+a word. Toppy noticed that the old woodsman sat on a bench near the door
+where he could keep an eye on the road. Above the bench hung a pair of
+field-glasses, a repeating shotgun and a high-power Winchester rifle.
+
+"Any hunting around here?" asked Toppy cheerily.
+
+"Sometimes," said the old watcher with a smile that made Toppy wonder.
+
+He did not pursue the subject, for there was something about the lonely
+cabin, the bearded old man, and the rifle on the wall that suggested
+something much more grim than sport.
+
+The driver soon bolted his meal and went back to the sleigh. Toppy
+followed, and twenty minutes after pulling up they were on the road
+again. With each mile that they passed now the swamp grew wilder and the
+gloom of the wilderness more oppressive. To right and left among the
+trees Toppy made out stretches of open water, great springs and little
+creeks which never froze and which made the swamp even in Winter a
+treacherous morass.
+
+Toward the end of the short afternoon the swamp suddenly gave way to a
+rough, untimbered ridge. Red rocks, which Toppy later learned contained
+iron ore, poked their way like jagged teeth through the snow. The sleigh
+mounted the ridge, the runners grating on bare rock and dirt, dipped
+down into a ravine between two ridges, swung off almost at right angles
+in a cleft in the hills--and before Toppy realised that the end of the
+drive had come, they were in full view of a large group of log buildings
+on the edge of a dense pine forest and were listening to the roar of the
+waters of Cameron Dam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV--"HELL-CAMP" REIVERS
+
+
+In the face of things there was nothing about the place to suggest that
+it deserved the title of Hell Camp. The Cameron Dam Camp, as Toppy saw
+it now, consisted of seven neat log buildings. Of these the first six
+were located on the road which led into the camp, three on each side.
+These buildings were twice as large as the ordinary log buildings which
+Toppy had seen in the woods; but they were thoroughly dwarfed and
+overshadowed by the seventh, which lay beyond them, and into the
+enormous doorway of which the road seemed to disappear. This building
+was larger than the other six combined--was built of huge logs,
+apparently fifteen feet high; and its wall, which stretched across the
+road, seemed to have no windows or openings of any kind save a great
+double door.
+
+Toppy had no time for a careful scrutiny of the place, as the hunchback
+swiftly pulled up before the first building of the camp, a well-built
+double-log affair with large front windows and a small sign, "Office and
+Store." Directly across the road from this building was one bearing the
+sign, "Blacksmith Shop," and Toppy gazed with keen curiosity at a short
+man with white hair and broad shoulders who, with a blacksmith's hammer
+in his hand, came to the door of the shop as they drove up. Probably
+this was the man for whom he was to work.
+
+"Hey, Jerry," greeted the blacksmith with a burr in his speech that
+labelled him unmistakably as a Scot.
+
+"Hey, Scotty," replied the hunchback.
+
+"Did ye bring me a helper?"
+
+"Yes," grunted Jerry.
+
+"Good!" said the blacksmith, and returned to his anvil.
+
+The hunchback turned to the girl as soon as the team had come to a
+standstill.
+
+"This is where you go," he said, indicating the office with a nod.
+"You," he grunted to Toppy, "sit right where you are till we go see the
+boss."
+
+An Indian squaw, nearly as broad as she was tall, came waddling out of
+the store as Miss Pearson stepped stiffly from the sleigh. Toppy wished
+for courage to get out and carry the girl's suitcase, but he feared that
+his action would be misinterpreted; so he sat still, eagerly watching
+out of the corner of his eyes.
+
+"I carry um," said the squaw as the girl dragged forth her baggage. "You
+go in."
+
+Then the sleigh drove abruptly ahead toward the great building at the
+end of the road, and Toppy's final view of the scene was Miss Pearson
+stumping stiffly into the office-building with the squaw, the suitcase
+held in her arms, waddling behind. Miss Pearson did not look in his
+direction.
+
+And now Toppy had his first shock. For he saw that the building toward
+which they were hurrying was not a building at all, but merely a
+stockade-wall, which seemed to surround all of the camp except the six
+buildings which were outside. What he had thought a huge doorway was in
+reality a great gate.
+
+This gate swung open at their approach, and Toppy's second shock came
+when he saw that the two hard-faced men who opened it carried in the
+crooks of their arms wicked-looking, short-barrelled repeating shotguns.
+One of the men caught the horses by the head as soon as they were
+through the gate, and brought them to a dead stop, while the other
+closed the gate behind them.
+
+"Can't you see the boss is busy?" snapped the man who had stopped the
+team. "You wait right here till he's through."
+
+Toppy now saw that they had driven into a quadrangle, three sides of
+which were composed of long, low, log buildings with doors and windows
+cut at frequent intervals, the fourth side being formed by the
+stockade-wall through which they had just passed. The open space which
+thus lay between four walls of solid logs was perhaps fifty yards long
+by twenty-five yards wide. In his first swift sight of the place Toppy
+saw that, with the stockade-gate closed and two men with riot-guns on
+guard, the place was nothing more nor less than an effective prison.
+Then his attention was riveted spellbound by what was taking place in
+the yard.
+
+On the sunny side of the yard a group of probably a dozen men were
+huddled against the log wall. Two things struck Toppy as he looked at
+them--their similarity to the group of Slavs he had seen back in Rail
+Head, and the complete terror in their faces as they cringed tightly
+against the log wall. Perhaps ten feet in front of them, and facing
+them, stood a man alone. And Toppy, as he beheld the terror with which
+the dozen shrank back from the one, and as he looked at the man, knew
+that he was looking upon Hell-Camp Reivers, the man who was called The
+Snow-Burner.
+
+Toppy Treplin was not an impressionable young man. He had lived much and
+swiftly and among many kinds of men, and it took something remarkable in
+the man-line to surprise him. But the sight of Reivers brought from him
+a start, and he sat staring, completely fascinated by the Manager's
+presence.
+
+It was not the size of Reivers that held him, for Toppy at first glance
+judged correctly that Reivers and himself might have come from the same
+mold so far as height and weight were concerned. Neither was it the
+terrible physical power which fairly reeked from the man; for though
+Reivers' rough clothing seemed merely light draperies on the huge
+muscles that lay beneath, Toppy had played with strong men,
+professionals and amateurs, enough to be blase in the face of a physical
+Colossus. It was the calm, ghastly brutality of the man, the complete
+brutality of an animal, dominated by a human intelligence, that held
+Toppy spellbound.
+
+Reivers, as he stood there alone, glowering at the poor wretches who
+cowered from him like pygmies, was like a tiger preparing to spring and
+carefully calculating where his claws and fangs might sink in with most
+damage to his victims. He stood with his feet close together, his thumbs
+hooked carelessly in his trousers pockets, his head thrust far forward.
+Toppy had a glimpse of a long, thin nose, thin lips parted in a sneer,
+heavily browed eyes, and, beneath the back-thrust cap, a mass of curly
+light hair--hair as light as the girl's! Then Reivers spoke.
+
+"Rosky!" he said in a voice that was half snarl, half bellow.
+
+There was a troubled movement among the dozen men huddled against the
+wall, but there came no answer.
+
+"Rosky! Step out!" commanded Reivers in a tone whose studied ferocity
+made Toppy shudder.
+
+In response, a tall, broad-shouldered Slav, the oldest and largest man
+in the group, stepped sullenly out and stood a yard in front of his
+fellows. He had taken off his cap and held it tightly in his clenched
+right hand, and the expression on his flat face as he stood with hanging
+head and scowled at Reivers was one half of fear and half of defiance.
+
+"You no can hit me," he muttered doggedly. "I citizen; I got first
+papers."
+
+Reivers's manner underwent a change.
+
+"Hit you?" he repeated softly. "Who wants to hit you? I just want to
+talk with you. I hear you're thinking of quitting. I hear you've planned
+to take these fellows with you when you go. How about it, Rosky?"
+
+"I got papers," said the man sullenly. "I citizen; I quit job when I
+want."
+
+"Yes?" said Reivers gently. It was like a tiger playing with a hedgehog,
+and Toppy sickened. "But you signed to stay here six months, didn't
+you?"
+
+The gentleness of the Manager had deceived the thick-witted Slav and he
+grew bold.
+
+"I drunk when I sign," he said loudly. "All these fellow drunk when they
+sign. I quit. They quit. You no can keep us here if we no want stay."
+
+"I can't?" Still Reivers saw fit to play with his victim.
+
+"No," said the man. "And you no dare hit us again, no."
+
+"No?" purred Reivers softly. "No, certainly not; I wouldn't hit you.
+You're quite right, Rosky. I won't hit you; no."
+
+He was standing at least seven feet from his man, his feet close
+together, his thumbs still hooked in his trousers pockets. Suddenly, and
+so swiftly that Rosky did not have time to move, Reivers took a step
+forward and shot out his right foot. His boot seemed barely to touch the
+shin-bone of Rosky's right leg, but Toppy heard the bone snap as the
+Slav, with a shriek of pain and terror, fell face downward, prone in the
+trampled snow at Reivers' feet.
+
+And Reivers did not look at him. He was standing as before, as if
+nothing had happened, as if he had not moved. His eyes were upon the
+other men, who, appalled at their leader's fate, huddled more closely
+against the log wall.
+
+"Well, how about it?" demanded Reivers icily after a long silence. "Any
+more of you fellows think you want to quit?"
+
+Half of the dozen cried out in terror:
+
+"No, no! We no quit. Please, boss; we no quit."
+
+A smile of complete contempt curled Reivers' thin upper lip.
+
+"You poor scum, of course you ain't going to quit," he sneered. "You'll
+stay here and slave away until I'm through with you. And don't you even
+dare think of quitting. Rosky thought he'd kept his plans mighty
+secret--thought I wouldn't know what he was planning. You see what
+happened to him.
+
+"I know everything that's going on in this camp. If you don't believe
+it, try it out and see. Now pick this thing up--" he stirred the groaning
+Rosky contemptuously with his foot--"and carry him into his bunk. I'll be
+around and set his leg when I get ready. Then get back to the rock-pile
+and make up for the time it's taken to teach you this lesson."
+
+The brutality of the thing had frozen Toppy motionless where he sat in
+the sleigh. At the same time he was conscious of a thrill of admiration
+for the dominant creature who had so contemptuously crippled a fellow
+man. A brute Reivers certainly was, and well he deserved the name of
+Hell-Camp Reivers; but a born captain he was, too, though his dominance
+was of a primordial sort.
+
+Turning instantly from his victim as from a piece of business that is
+finished, Reivers looked around and came toward the sleigh. Some
+primitive instinct prompted Toppy to step out and stretch himself
+leisurely, his long arms above his head, his big chest inflated to the
+limit. At the sight of him a change came over Reivers' face. The
+brutality and contempt went out of it like a flash. His eyes lighted up
+with pleasure at the sight of Toppy's magnificent proportions, and he
+smiled a quick smile of comradeship, such as one smiles when he meets a
+fellow and equal, and held out his hand to Toppy.
+
+"University man, I'll wager," he said, in the easy voice of a man of
+culture. "Glad to see you; more than glad! These beasts are palling on
+me. They're so cursed physical--no mind, no spirit in them. Nothing but
+so many pounds of meat and bone. Old Campbell, my blacksmith, is the
+only other intelligent being in camp, and he's Scotch and believes in
+predestination and original sin, so his conversation's rather trying for
+a steady diet."
+
+Toppy shook hands, amazed beyond expression. Except for his shaggy
+eyebrows--brows that somehow reminded Toppy of the head of a bear he had
+once shot--Reivers now was the sort of man one would expect to meet in
+the University Club rather than in a logging-camp. The brute had
+vanished, the gentleman had appeared; and Toppy was forced to smile in
+answer to Reivers' genial smile of greeting. And yet, somewhere back in
+Reivers' blue eyes Toppy saw lurking something which said, "I am your
+master--doubt it if you dare."
+
+"I hired out as blacksmith's helper," he explained. "My name's Treplin."
+
+He did not take his eyes from Reivers'. Somehow he had the sensation
+that Reivers' will and his own had leaped to a grapple.
+
+Reivers laughed aloud in friendly fashion.
+
+"Blacksmith's helper, eh?" he said. "That's good; that's awfully good!
+Well, old man, I don't care what you hired out for, or what your right
+name is; you're a developed human being and you'll be somebody to talk
+to when these brutes grow too tiresome." He turned to Jerry, the driver.
+"Well?" he said curtly.
+
+"She's in the office now," he said.
+
+"All right." Reivers turned and went briskly toward the gate. "Turn Mr.
+Treplin over to Campbell. You'll live with Campbell, Treplin," he called
+over his shoulder, as he went through the gate. "And you hit the back
+trail, Jerry, right away."
+
+As Jerry swung the team around Toppy saw that Reivers was going toward
+the office with long, eager strides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V--TOPPY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION
+
+
+Old Campbell, the blacksmith, had knocked off from the day's work when,
+a few minutes later, Toppy stepped from the sleigh before the door of
+the shop.
+
+"Go through the shop to that room in the back," said Jerry. "You'll find
+him in there." And he drove off without another word.
+
+Toppy walked in and knocked at a door in a partition across the rear of
+the shop.
+
+"Come in," spluttered a moist, cheery voice, and Toppy entered. The old
+blacksmith, naked to the waist and soaped from shoulders to ears, looked
+up from the steaming tub in which he was carefully removing every trace
+of the day's smut. He peered sharply at Toppy, and at the sight of the
+young man's good-natured face he smiled warmly through the suds.
+
+"Come in, come in. Shut the door," he cried, plunging back into the hot
+water. "I tak' it that you're my new helper? Well--" he wiped the suds
+from his eyes and looked Toppy over--"though it's plain ye never did a
+day's blacksmithing in your life, I bid ye welcome, nevertheless. Ye
+look like an educated man. Well, 'twill be a pleasure and an honour for
+me to teach ye something more important than all ye've learned
+before--and that is, how to work.
+
+"I see ye cam' withoot baggage of any kind. Go ye now across to the
+store before it closes and draw yerself two blankets for yer bunk. By
+the time you're back I'll have our supper started and then we'll proceed
+to get acqua'nted."
+
+"Tell me!" exploded Toppy, who could hold in no longer. "What kind of a
+man or beast is this Reivers? Why, I just saw him deliberately break a
+man's leg out there in the yard! What kind of a place is this, anyhow--a
+penal colony?"
+
+Campbell turned away and picked up a towel before replying.
+
+"Reivers is a great man who worships after strange gods," he said
+solemnly. "But you'll have plenty of time to learn about that later. Go
+ye over to the store now without further waiting. Ye'll find them closed
+if ye dally longer; and then ye'll have a cold night, for there's no
+blankets here for your bunk. Hustle, lad; we'll talk about things after
+supper."
+
+Toppy obeyed cheerfully. It was growing dark now, and as he stepped out
+of the shop he saw the squaw lighting the lamps in the building across
+the street. Toppy crossed over and found the door open. Inside there was
+a small hallway with two doors, one labelled "Store," the other
+"Office." Toppy was about to enter the store, when he heard Miss
+Pearson's voice in the office, and her first words, which came plainly
+through the partition, made him pause.
+
+"Mr. Reivers," she was saying in tones that she struggled to make firm,
+"you know that if I had known you were running this camp I would never
+have come here. You deceived me. You signed the name of Simmons to your
+letter. You knew that if you had signed your own name I would not be
+here. You tricked me.
+
+"And you promised solemnly last Summer when I told you I never could
+care for you that you would never trouble me again. How could you do
+this? You've got the reputation among men of never breaking your word.
+Why couldn't you--why couldn't you keep your word with me--a woman?"
+
+Toppy, playing the role of eavesdropper for the first time, scarcely
+breathed as he caught the full import of these words. Then Reivers began
+to speak, his deep voice rich with earnestness and feeling.
+
+"I will--I am keeping my word to you, Helen," he said. "I said I would
+not trouble you again; and I will not. It's true that I did not let you
+know that I was running this camp; and I did it because I wanted you to
+have this job, and I knew you wouldn't come if you knew I was here. You
+wouldn't let me give you, or even loan you, the three hundred dollars
+necessary for your father's operation.
+
+"I know you, Helen, and I know that you haven't had a happy day since
+you were told that your father would be a well man after an operation
+and you couldn't find the money to pay for it. I knew you were going to
+work in hopes of earning it. I had this place to fill in the office
+here; I was authorised to pay as high as seventy-five dollars for a good
+bookkeeper. Naturally I thought of you.
+
+"I knew there was no other place where you could earn seventy-five
+dollars a month, and save it. I knew you wouldn't come if I wrote you
+over my own name. So I signed Simmons' name, and you came. I said I
+would not trouble you any more, and I keep my word. The situation is
+this: you will be in charge of this office--if you stay; I am in charge
+of the camp. You will have little or nothing to do with me; I will
+manage so that you will need to see me only when absolutely necessary.
+Your living-rooms are in the rear of the office. I live in the stockade.
+Tilly, the squaw, will cook and wash for you, and do the hard work in
+the store. In four months you will have the three hundred dollars that
+you want for your father.
+
+"I had much rather you would accept it from me as a loan on a simple
+business basis; but as you won't, this is the next best thing. And you
+mustn't feel that you are accepting any favour from me. On the contrary,
+you will, if you stay, be solving a big problem for me. I simply can not
+handle accounts. A strange bookkeeper could rob me and the company
+blind, and I'd never know it. I know you won't do that; and I know that
+you're efficient.
+
+"That's the situation. I am keeping my word; I will not trouble you. If
+you decide to accept, go in and take off your hat and coat and tell
+Tilly to prepare supper for you. She will obey your orders blindly; I
+have told her to. If you decide that you don't want to stay, say the
+word and I will have one of the work-teams hooked up and you can go back
+to Rail Head to-night.
+
+"But whichever you do, Helen, please remember that I have not broken--and
+never will break--my promise to you."
+
+Before Reivers had begun to speak Toppy had hated the man as a
+contemptible sneak guilty of lying to get the girl at his mercy. The end
+of the Manager's speech left him bewildered. One couldn't help wanting
+to believe every word that Reivers said, there were so much manliness
+and sincerity in his tone. On the other hand, Toppy had seen his face
+when he was handling the unfortunate Rosky, and the unashamed brute that
+had showed itself then did not fit with this remarkable speech. Then
+Toppy heard Reivers coming toward the door.
+
+"I will leave you; you can make up your mind alone," he said. "I've got
+to attend to one of the men who has been hurt. If you decide to go back
+to Rail Head, tell Tilly, and she'll hunt me up and I'll send a team
+over right away."
+
+He stepped briskly out in the hallway and saw Toppy standing with his
+hand on the door of the store.
+
+"Oh, hello, there!" he called out cheerily. "Campbell tell you to draw
+your blankets? That's the first step in the process of becoming a--guest
+at Hell Camp. Get a pair of XX; they're the warmest."
+
+He passed swiftly out of the building.
+
+"I say, Treplin," he called back from a distance, "did you ever set a
+broken leg?"
+
+"Never," said Toppy.
+
+"I'll give you 'Davis on Fractures' to read up on," said Reivers with a
+laugh. "I think I'll appoint you M.D. to this camp. 'Doctor Treplin.'
+How would that be?"
+
+His careless laughter came floating back as he made his way swiftly to
+the stockade.
+
+For a moment Toppy stood irresolute. Then he did something that required
+more courage from him than anything he had done before in his life. He
+stepped boldly across the hallway and entered the office, closing the
+door behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI--"NICE BOY!"
+
+
+"Miss Pearson!" Toppy spoke as he crossed the threshold; then he stopped
+short.
+
+The girl was sitting in a big chair before a desk in the farther corner
+of the room. She was dressed just as she had been on the drive; she had
+not removed cap, coat or gloves since arriving. Her hands lay palms up
+in her lap, her square little shoulders sagged, and her face was pale
+and troubled. A tiny crease of worry had come between her wonderful blue
+eyes, and her gaze wandered uncertainly, as if seeking help in the face
+of a problem that had proved too hard for her to handle alone. At the
+sight of Toppy, instead of giving way to a look of relief, her troubled
+expression deepened. She started. She seemed even to shrink from him.
+The words froze in Toppy's mouth and he stood stock-still.
+
+"Don't!" he groaned boyishly. "Please don't look at me like that, Miss
+Pearson! I--I'm not that sort. I want to help you--if you need it. I heard
+what Reivers just said. I----What do you take me for, anyhow? A mucker who
+would force himself upon a lady?"
+
+The anguish in his tone and in his honest, good-natured countenance was
+too real to be mistaken. He had cried out from the depths of a clean
+heart which had been stirred strangely, and the woman in the girl
+responded with quick sympathy. She looked at him with a look that would
+have aroused the latent manhood in a cad--which Toppy was not--and Toppy,
+in his eagerness, found that he could look back.
+
+"Why did you come out here?" she asked plaintively. "Why did you decide
+to follow me, after you had heard that I was coming here? I know you did
+that; you hadn't intended coming here until you heard. What made you do
+it?"
+
+"Because you came here," said Toppy honestly.
+
+"But why--why----"
+
+Toppy had regained control of himself.
+
+"Why do you think I did it, Miss Pearson?" he asked quietly.
+
+"I--I don't want to think--what I think," she stammered.
+
+"And that is that I'm a cad, the sort of a mucker who forces his
+attentions upon women who are alone."
+
+"Well--" she looked up with a challenge in her eyes--"you had been
+drinking, hadn't you? Could you blame me if I did?"
+
+"Not a bit," said Toppy. "I'm the one whose to blame. I'm the goat. I
+don't suppose I had a right to butt in. Of course I didn't. I'm a big
+fool; always have been. I--I just couldn't stand for seeing you start out
+for this Hell Camp alone; that's all. It's no reason, I know, but--there
+you are. I'd heard something of the place in the morning and I had a
+notion it was a pretty tough place. You--you didn't look as if you were
+used to anything of the sort----Well," he wound up desperately, "it didn't
+look right, your going off alone among all these roughnecks; and--and
+that's why I butted in."
+
+She made no reply, and Toppy continued:
+
+"I didn't have any right to do it, I know. I deserve to be suspected----"
+
+"No!" she laughed. "Please, Mr. Treplin! That was horrid of me."
+
+"Why was it?" he demanded abruptly. "Especially after you knew--after
+this morning. But--here's the situation: I thought you might need a
+side-kicker to see you through, and I appointed myself to the job. You
+won't believe that, I suppose, but that's because you don't know how
+foolish I can be."
+
+He stopped clumsily, abashed by the wondering scrutiny to which she was
+subjecting him. She arose slowly from the chair and came toward him.
+
+"I believe you, Mr. Treplin," she said. "I believe you're a decent sort
+of boy. I want to thank you; but why--why should you think this
+necessary?"
+
+She looked at him, smiling a little, and Toppy, wincing from her "boy,"
+grew flustered.
+
+"Well, you're not sorry I came?" he stammered.
+
+For reply she shook her head. Toppy took a long breath.
+
+"Thanks!" he said with such genuine relief that she was forced to smile.
+
+"But I'm a perfect stranger to you," she said uncertainly. "I can't
+understand why you should feel prompted to sacrifice yourself so to help
+me."
+
+"Sacrifice!" cried Toppy. "Why, I'm the one----" He stopped. He didn't
+know just what he had intended to say. Something that he had no business
+saying, probably. "Anybody would have done it--anybody who wasn't a
+mucker, I mean. You can't have any use for me, of course, knowing what
+kind of a dub I've been, but if you'll just look on me as somebody you
+can trust and fall back on in case of need, and who'll do anything you
+want or need, I--I'll be more than paid."
+
+"I do trust you, Mr. Treplin," she said, and held out her hand. "But--do
+I look as if I needed a chaperon?"
+
+Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved fingers.
+
+"I told you I'd heard what Reivers said," he said hastily. "I didn't
+mean to; I was just coming in to get some blankets. I don't suppose
+you're going to stay here now, are you?"
+
+She began to draw off her gloves.
+
+"Yes," she said quietly. "Mr. Reivers is a gentleman and can be depended
+upon to keep his word."
+
+Toppy winced once more. She had called him a "decent boy"; she spoke of
+Reivers as a "gentleman."
+
+"But--good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred dollars----if that's
+all----"
+
+He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something like a click.
+
+"Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend me that much money?"
+she asked. "Didn't you hear that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And
+Mr. Reivers isn't a complete stranger to me--as you are."
+
+She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to unbutton her
+mackinaw.
+
+"I don't think you could mean anything wrong by it," she continued. "But
+please don't mention it again. You don't wish to humiliate me, do you?"
+
+"Miss Pearson!" stammered Toppy, miserable.
+
+"Don't, please don't," she said. "It's all right." Her natural high
+spirits were returning. "Everything's all right. Mr. Reivers never
+breaks his word, and he's promised--you heard him, you say? And you've
+promised to be my--what did you call it?--'side-kicker,' so everything's
+fine. Except--" a look of disgust passed over her eyes--"your drinking.
+Oh," she cried as she saw the shame flare into Toppy's face, "I didn't
+mean to hurt you--but how can nice boys like you throw themselves away?"
+
+Nice boy! Toppy looked at his toes for a long time. So that was what she
+thought of him! Nice boy!
+
+"Do you know much about Reivers?" he asked at last, as if he had
+forgotten her words. "Or don't you want to tell me about him?" He had
+sensed that he was infinitely Reivers' inferior in her estimation, and
+it hurt.
+
+"Certainly I do," she said. "Mr. Reivers was a foreman for the company
+that my father was estimator for. When father was hurt last Summer Mr.
+Reivers came to see him on company business. It's father's spine; he
+couldn't move; Reivers had to come to him. He saw me, and two hours
+after our meeting he--he asked me to marry him. He asked me again a week
+later, and once after that. Then I told him that I never could care for
+him and he went away and promised he'd never trouble me again. You heard
+our conversation. I hadn't seen or heard of him since, until he walked
+into this room. That's all I know about him, except that people say he
+never breaks his word."
+
+Toppy winced as he caught the note of confidence in her voice and
+thought of the sudden deadly treachery of Reivers in dealing with Rosky.
+The girl with a lithe movement threw off her mackinaw.
+
+"By Jove!" Toppy exploded in boyish admiration. "You're the bravest
+little soul I ever saw in my life! Going against a game like this, just
+to help your father!"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I?" she asked. "I'm the only one father has got.
+We're all alone, father and I; and father is too proud to take help from
+any one else; and--and," she concluded firmly, "so am I. As for being
+brave--have you anything against Mr. Reivers personally?"
+
+Thoroughly routed, Toppy turned to the door. "Good night, Miss Pearson,"
+he said politely.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Treplin. And thank you for--going out of your way." But
+had she seen the flash in Toppy's eye and the set of his jaw she might
+not have laughed so merrily as he flung out of the room.
+
+In the store on the other side of the hallway Toppy was surprised to
+find Tilly, the squaw, waiting patiently behind a low counter on which
+lay a pair of blankets bearing a tag "XX." As he entered, the woman
+pushed the blankets toward him and pointed to a card lying on the
+counter.
+
+"Put um name here," she said, indicating a dotted line on the card and
+offering Toppy a pencil tied on a string.
+
+Toppy saw that the card was a receipt for the blankets. As he signed, he
+looked closely at the squaw. He was surprised to see that she was a
+young woman, and that her features and expression distinguished her from
+the other squaws he had seen by the intelligence they indicated. Tilly
+was no mere clod in a red skin. Somewhere back of her inscrutable Indian
+eyes was a keen, strong mind.
+
+"How did you know what I wanted?" Toppy asked as he packed the blankets
+under his arm.
+
+The squaw made no sign that she had heard. Picking up the card, she
+looked carefully at his signature and turned to hang the card on a hook.
+
+"So you were listening when Reivers was talking to me, were you?" said
+Toppy. "Did you listen after he went out?"
+
+"Mebbe," grunted Tilly. "Mebbe so; mebbe no." And with this she turned
+and waddled back into the living-quarters in the rear of the store.
+
+Toppy looked after her dumbfounded.
+
+"Huh!" he said to himself. "I'll bet two to one that Reivers knows all
+about what we said before morning. I suppose that will mean something
+doing pretty quick. Well, the quicker the better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII--THE SNOW-BURNER'S CREED
+
+
+When Toppy returned to the room in the rear of the blacksmith-shop he
+found Campbell waiting impatiently.
+
+"Eh, lad, but you're the slow one!" greeted the gruff old Scot as Toppy
+entered. "You're set a record in this camp; no man yet has been able to
+consume so much time getting a pair of blankets from the wannigan. Dump
+'em in yon bunk in the corner and set the table. I'll have supper in a
+wink and a half."
+
+Toppy obediently tossed his blankets into the bunk indicated and turned
+to help to the best of his ability. The place now was lighted generously
+by two large reflector-lamps hung on the walls, and Toppy had his first
+good view of the room that was to be his home.
+
+He was surprised at its neatness and comfort. It was a large room,
+though a little low under the roof, as rooms have a habit of being in
+the North. In the farthest corner were two bunks, the sleeping-quarters.
+Across the room from this, a corner was filled with well filled
+bookshelves, a table with a reading-lamp, and two easy chairs, giving
+the air of a tiny library. In the corner farthest from this was the
+cook-stove, and in the fourth corner stood an oilcloth-covered table
+with a shelf filled with dishes hung above it. Though the rough edges of
+hewn logs shown here and there through the plaster of the walls, the
+room was as spick and span as if under the charge of a finicky
+housewife. Old Campbell himself, bending over the cook stove, was as
+astonishing in his own way as the room. He had removed all trace of the
+day's smithing and fairly shone with cleanliness. His snow-white hair
+was carefully combed back from his wide forehead, his bushy
+chin-whiskers likewise showed signs of water and comb, and he was garbed
+from throat to ankles in a white cook's apron. He was cheerfully humming
+a dirge-like tune, and so occupied was he with his cookery that he
+scarcely so much as glanced at Toppy.
+
+"Now then, lad; are you ready?" he asked presently.
+
+"All ready, I guess," said Toppy, giving a final look at the table.
+
+"You've forgot the bread," said Campbell, also looking. "You'll find it
+in yon tin box on the shelf. Lively, now." And before Toppy had dished
+out a loaf from the bread-box the old man had a huge platter of steak
+and twin bowls of potatoes and turnips steaming on the table.
+
+"We will now say grace," said Campbell, seating himself after removing
+the big apron, and Toppy sat silent and amazed as the old man bowed his
+head and in his deep voice solemnly uttered thanks for the meal before
+him.
+
+"Now then," he said briskly, raising his head and reaching for a fork as
+he ended, "fall to."
+
+The meal was eaten without any more conversation than was necessary.
+When it was over, the blacksmith pushed his chair leisurely back from
+the table and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile.
+
+"Well, lad," he rumbled, "what would ye say was the next thing to be
+done by oursel's?"
+
+"Wash the dishes," said Toppy promptly, taking his cue from the
+conspicuous cleanliness of the room.
+
+"Aye," said Campbell, nodding. "And as I cook the meal----"
+
+"I'm elected dish-washer," laughed Toppy, springing up and taking a
+large dish-pan from the wall. He had often done his share of
+kitchen-work on hunting-trips, and soon he had the few dishes washed and
+dried and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically.
+
+"Well enough," he said with an approving jerk of his head when the task
+was completed. "Your conscience should be easier now, lad; you've done
+something to pay for the meal you've eaten, which I'll warrant is
+something you've not often done."
+
+"No," laughed Toppy, "it just happens that I haven't had to."
+
+"'Haven't had to!'" snorted Campbell in disgust. "Is that all the
+justification you have? Where's your pride? Are you a helpless infant
+that you're not ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth
+without doing anything for it? I suppose you've got money. And where
+came your money from? Your father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it
+came from, they're the people who've been feeding you, but by the great
+smoked herring! If you stay wi' David Campbell you'll have a change,
+lad. Aye, you'll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat of
+your brow. And you'll bless the day you come here--no matter what the
+reason that made you come, and which I do not want to hear."
+
+Toppy bowed courteously.
+
+"I've got no come-back to that line of conversation, Mr. Campbell," he
+said good-naturedly. "Whenever anybody accuses me of being a bum with
+money I throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can't get an argument
+out of me with a corkscrew."
+
+Old Campbell's grim face cracked in a genial smile as he rose and led
+the way to the corner containing the bookshelves.
+
+"We will now step into the library," he chuckled. "Sit ye down."
+
+He pushed one of the easy chairs toward Toppy, and from a cupboard under
+the reading-table drew a bottle of Scotch whisky of a celebrated brand.
+Toppy's whole being suddenly cried out for a drink as his eyes fell on
+the familiar four stars.
+
+"Say when, lad," said Campbell, pouring into a generous glass. "Well?"
+He looked at Toppy in surprise as the glass filled up. Something had
+smitten Toppy like a blow between the eyes----"How can nice boys like you
+throw themselves away?" And the pity of the girl as she had said it was
+large before him.
+
+"Thanks," said Toppy, seating himself, "but I'm on the wagon."
+
+The old smith looked up at him shrewdly from the corners of his eyes.
+
+"Oh, aye!" he grunted. "I see. Well, by the puffs under your eyes ye
+have overdone it; and for fleeing the temptations of the world I know of
+no better place ye could go to than this. For it's certain neither
+temptations nor luxuries will be found in Hell Camp while the
+Snow-Burner's boss."
+
+"Now you interest me," said Toppy grimly. "The Snow-Burner--Hell-Camp
+Reivers--Mr. Reivers--the boss. What kind of a human being is he, if he is
+human?"
+
+Campbell carefully mixed his whisky with hot water.
+
+"You saw him manhandle Rosky?" he asked, seating himself opposite Toppy.
+
+"Yes; but it wasn't manhandling; it was brute-handling, beast-handling."
+
+"Aye," said the Scot, sipping his drink. "So think I, too. But do you
+know what Reivers calls it? An enlightened man showing a human clod the
+error of his ways. Oh, aye; the Indians were smart when they named him
+the Snow-Burner. He does things that aren't natural."
+
+"But who is he, or what is he? He's an educated man, obviously--'way
+above what a logging-boss ought to be. What do you know about him?"
+
+"Little enough," was the reply. "Four year ago I were smithing in Elk
+Lake Camp over east of here, when Reivers came walking into camp. That
+was the first any white men had seen of him around these woods, though
+afterward we learned he'd lived long enough with the Indians to earn the
+name of the Snow-Burner.
+
+"It were January, and two feet of snow on the level, and fifty below.
+Reivers came walking into camp, and the nearest human habitation were
+forty mile away. 'Red Pat' Haney were foreman--a man-killer with the
+devil's own temper; and him Reivers deeliberately set himself to arouse.
+A week after his coming, this same Reivers had every man in camp looking
+up to him, except Red Pat.
+
+"And Reivers drove Pat half mad with that contemptuous smile of his, and
+Pat pulled a gun; and Reivers says, 'That's what I was waiting for,' and
+broke Pat's bones with his bare hands and laid him up. Then, says he,
+'This camp is going on just the same as if nothing had happened, and I'm
+going to be boss.' That was all there was to it; he's been a boss ever
+since."
+
+"And you don't know where he came from? Or anything else about him?"
+
+"Oh, he's from England--an Oxford man, for that matter," said Campbell.
+"He admitted that much once when we were argufying. He'll be here soon;
+he comes to quarrel with me every evening."
+
+"Why does an Oxford man want to be 'way out here bossing a
+logging-camp?" grumbled Toppy.
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+"Aye, I asked that of him once," he said. "'Though it's none of your
+business,' says he, 'I'll tell you. I got tired of living where people
+snivel about laws concerning right and wrong,' says he, 'instead of
+acknowledging that there is only one law ruling life--that the strong can
+master the weak.' That is Mr. Reivers' religion. He was only worshipping
+his strange gods when he broke Rosky's leg, for he considers Rosky a
+weaker man than himself, and therefore 'tis his duty to break him to his
+own will."
+
+"A fine religion!" snapped Toppy. "And how about his dealings with you?"
+
+The Scot smiled grimly.
+
+"I'm the best smith he ever had," he replied, "and I've warned him that
+I'd consider it a duty under my religion to shoot him through the head
+did he ever attempt to force his creed upon me." He paused and held up a
+finger. "Hist, lad. That's him coming noo. He's come for his regular
+evening's mouthfu' of conversation."
+
+Toppy found himself sitting up and gripping the arms of his chair as
+Reivers came swinging in. He eagerly searched the foreman's countenance
+for a sign to indicate whether Tilly, the squaw, had communicated the
+conversation she had heard between Toppy and Miss Pearson, but if she
+had there was nothing to indicate it in Reivers' expression or manner.
+His self-mastery awoke a sullen rage in Toppy. He felt himself to be a
+boy beside Reivers.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," greeted Reivers lightly, pulling a chair up
+to the reading-table. "It is a pleasure to find intelligent society
+after having spent the last hour handling the broken leg of a miserable
+brute on two legs. Bah! The whisky, Scotty, please. I wonder what
+miracles of misbreeding have been necessary to turn out alleged human
+beings with bodies so hideous compared to what the human body should be.
+Treplin, if you or I stripped beside those Hunkies the only thing we'd
+have in common would be the number of our legs and arms."
+
+He drew toward him a tumbler which Campbell had pushed over beside the
+bottle and, filling the glass three-quarters full, began to drink slowly
+at the powerful Scotch whisky as another man might sip at beer or light
+wine. Old Campbell rocked slowly to and fro in his chair.
+
+"'He that taketh up the sword shall perish by the sword,'" he quoted
+solemnly. "No man is a god to set himself up, lord over the souls and
+bodies of his fellows. They will put out your light for you one of these
+days, Mr. Reivers. Have care and treat them a little more like men."
+
+Reivers smiled a quick smile that showed a mouthful of teeth as clean
+and white as a hound's.
+
+"Let's have your opinion on the subject, Treplin," he said. "New
+opinions are always interesting, and Scotty repeats the same thing over
+and over again. What do you think of it? Do you think I can maintain my
+rule over those hundred and fifty clods out there in the stockade as I
+am ruling them, through the law of strength over weakness? Do you think
+one superior mind can dominate a hundred and fifty inferior organisms?
+Or do you think, with Scotty here, that the dregs can drag me down?"
+
+Toppy shook his head. He was in no mood to debate abstract problems with
+Reivers.
+
+"Count me out until I'm a little acquainted with the situation," he
+said. "I'm a stranger in a strange land. I've just dropped in--from
+almost another world you might say."
+
+In a vain attempt to escape taking sides in what was evidently an old
+argument he hurriedly rattled off the story of his coming to Rail Head
+and thence to Hell Camp, omitting to mention, however, that it was Miss
+Pearson who was responsible for the latter part of his journey. Reivers
+smote his huge fist upon the table as Toppy finished.
+
+"That's the kind of a man for me!" he laughed. "Got tired of living the
+life of his class, and just stepped out of it. No explanations; no
+acknowledgement of obligations to anybody. Master of his own soul. To ----
+with the niceties of civilisation! Treplin, you're a man after my own
+scheme of life; I did the same thing once--only I was sober.
+
+"But let's get back to our subject. Here's the situation: This camp is
+on a natural town-site. There's water-power, ore and timber. To use the
+water-power we must build a dam; to use the timber we must get it to the
+saws. That takes labour, lots of it--muscle-and-bone labour. Labour is
+scarce up here. It is too far from the pigsties of towns. Men would
+come, work a few days, and go away. The purpose of the place would be
+defeated--unless the men are kept here at work.
+
+"That's what I do. I keep them here. To do it I keep them locked up at
+night like the cattle they are. By day I have them guarded by armed
+man-killers--every one of my guards is a fugitive from man's silly laws,
+principally from the one which says, 'Thou shalt not kill.'
+
+"But my best guard is Fear--by which I rule alike my guards and the poor
+brutes who are necessary to my purpose. There you are: a hundred and
+fifty of them, fearing and hating me, and I'm making them do as I
+please. No foolishness about laws, about order, about right or wrong.
+Just a hundred and fifty half-beasts and myself out here in the woods.
+As a man with a trained mind, do you think I can keep it up? Or do you
+think there is mental energy enough in that mess of human protoplasm to
+muster up nerve enough to put out my light, as Scotty puts it? It's a
+problem that furnishes interesting mental gymnastics."
+
+He propounded the problem with absolutely no trace of personal interest.
+To judge by his manner, the matter of his life or death meant nothing to
+him. It was merely an interesting question on which to expend the energy
+fulminating in his mind. In his light-blue eyes there seemed to gleam
+the same impersonal brutality which had shown out when he so casually
+crippled Rosky.
+
+"Oh, it's an impossible proposition, Reivers!" exploded Toppy, with the
+picture of the writhing Slav in his mind's eye. "You've got to consider
+right and wrong when dealing with human beings. It isn't natural; Nature
+won't stand it."
+
+"Ah!" Reivers' eyes lighted up with intellectual delight. "That's an
+idea! Scotty, you hear? You've been talking about my perishing by the
+sword, but you haven't given any reason why. Treplin does. He says
+Nature will revolt, because my system is unnatural." He threw back his
+head and laughed coldly. "Rot, Treplin--silly, effeminate, bookish rot!"
+he roared. "Nature has respect only for the strong. It creates the
+weaker species merely to give the stronger food to remain strong on."
+
+Old Scotty had been rocking furiously. Now he stopped suddenly and broke
+out into a furious Biblical denunciation of Reivers' system. When he
+stopped for breath after his first outbreak, Reivers with a few words
+and a cold smile egged him on. Toppy gladly kept his mouth shut. After
+an hour he yawned and arose from his chair.
+
+"If you'll excuse me, I'll turn in," he said. "I'm too sleepy to listen
+or talk."
+
+Without looking at him Reivers drew a book from his pocket and tossed it
+toward him.
+
+"'Davis on Fractures'," he grunted. "Cram up on it to-morrow. There will
+be need of your help before long. Go on, Scotty; you were saying that a
+just retribution was Nature's law. Go on."
+
+And Toppy rolled into his bunk, to lie wide awake, listening to the
+argument, marvelling at the character of Reivers, and pondering over the
+strange situation he had fallen into. He scarcely thought of what Harvey
+Duncombe and the bunch would be thinking about his disappearance. His
+thoughts were mainly occupied with wondering why, of all the women he
+had seen, a slender little girl with golden hair should suddenly mean so
+much to him. Nothing of the sort ever had happened to him before. It was
+rather annoying. Could she ever have a good opinion of him?
+
+Probably not. And even if she could, what about Reivers? Toppy was
+firmly convinced that the speech which Reivers had made to Miss Pearson
+was a false one. Reivers might have a great reputation for always
+keeping his word, but Toppy, after what he had seen and heard, would no
+more trust to his morals than those of a hungry bear. If Tilly, the
+squaw, told Reivers what she had heard, what then? Well, in that case
+they would soon know whether Reivers meant to keep his promise not to
+bother Miss Pearson with his attentions. Toppy set his jaw grimly at the
+thought of what might happen then. The mere thought of Reivers seemed to
+make his fists clench hard.
+
+He lay awake for a long time with Reivers' voice, coldly bantering
+Campbell, constantly in his ears. When Reivers finally went away he fell
+asleep. Before his closed eyes was the picture of the girl as, in the
+morning, she had kicked up the snow and looked up at him with her eyes
+deliciously puckered from the sun; and in his memory was the stinging
+recollection that she had called him a "nice boy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII--TOPPY WORKS
+
+
+At daylight next morning began Toppy's initiation as a blacksmith's
+helper. For the next four days he literally earned his bread in the
+sweat of his brow, as Campbell had warned him he would. The dour old
+Scot took it as his religious duty to give his helper a severe
+introduction to the world of manual labour, and circumstances aided him
+in his aim.
+
+Two dozen huge wooden sleighs had come from the "wood-butcher"--the camp
+carpenter-shop--to be fitted with cross-rods, brace-irons and runners.
+Out in the woods the ice-roads, carefully sprinkled each night, were
+alternately freezing and thawing, gradually approaching the solid
+condition which would mean a sudden call for sleighs to haul the logs,
+which lay mountain-high at the rollways, down to the river. One cold
+night and day now, and the call would come, and David Campbell was not
+the man to be found wanting--even if handicapped by a helper with hands
+as soft as a woman's.
+
+Toppy had no knowledge or skill in the trade, but he had strength and
+quickness, and the thoughts of Reivers' masterfulness, and the "nice
+boy" in the mouth of the girl, spurred him to the limit. The heavy
+sledgework fell to his lot as a matter of course. A twenty-pound sledge
+was a plaything in Toppy's hand--for the first fifteen minutes.
+
+After that the hammer seemed to increase progressively in weight, until
+at the end of the first day's work Toppy would gladly have credited the
+statement that it weighed a ton. Likewise the heavy runner-irons, which
+he lifted with ease on the anvil in the morning, seemed to grow heavier
+as the day grew older. Had Toppy been in the splendid condition that had
+helped him to win his place on the All-American eleven four years
+before, he might have gone through the cruel period of breaking-in
+without faltering. But four years of reckless living had taken their
+toll. The same magnificent frame and muscles were there; the great heart
+and grit and sand likewise. But there was something else there, too; the
+softening, weakening traces of decomposed alcohol in organs and tissues,
+and under the strain of the terrific pace which old Campbell set for
+Toppy, abused organs, fibres and nerves began to creak and groan, and
+finally called out, "Halt!"
+
+It was only Toppy's grit--the "great heart" that had made him a
+champion--and the desire to prove his strength before Reivers that kept
+him at work after the first day. His body had quit cold. He had never
+before undergone such expenditure of muscular energy, not even in the
+fiercest game of his career. That was play; this was torture. On the
+second morning his body shrank involuntarily from the spectacle of the
+torturing sledge, anvil and irons, but pride and grit drove him on with
+set jaw and hard eyes. Quit? Well, hardly. Reivers walked around the
+camp and smiled as he saw Toppy sweating, and Toppy swore and went on.
+
+On the third day old Campbell looked at him with curiosity.
+
+"Well, lad, have ye had enough?" he asked, smiling pityingly. "Ye can
+get a job helping the cookee if you find man's work too hard for ye."
+
+Toppy, between clenched teeth, swore savagely. He was so tired that he
+was sick. The toxins of fatigue, aided and abetted by the effects of
+hard living, had poisoned him until his feet and brain felt as heavy as
+lead. It hurt him to move and it hurt him to think. He was groggy, all
+but knocked out; but something within him held him doggedly at the tasks
+which were surely mastering him.
+
+That night he dragged himself to bed without waiting for supper. In the
+morning Campbell was amazed to see him tottering toward his accustomed
+place in the shop; for old Campbell had set a pace that had racked his
+own iron, work-tried body, and he had allowed Toppy two days in which to
+cry enough.
+
+"Hold up a little, lad," he grumbled. "We're away ahead of our job.
+There's no need laying yourself up. Take you a rest."
+
+"You go to ----!" exploded the overwrought Toppy. "Take a rest yourself if
+you need one; I don't."
+
+He was working on his nerve now, flogging his weary arms and body to do
+his bidding against their painful protests; and he worked like a madman,
+fearing that if he came to a halt the run-down machinery would refuse to
+start afresh.
+
+It was near evening when a teamster drove up with a broken sleigh from
+which Campbell and the man strove in vain to tear the twisted runner.
+Reivers from the steps of the store looked on, sneering. Toppy, his lips
+drawn back with pain and weariness, laughed shrilly at the efforts of
+the pair.
+
+"Yank it off!" he cried contemptuously. "Yank it off--like this."
+
+He drove a pry-iron under the runner and heaved. It refused to budge.
+Toppy gathered himself under the pry and jerked with every ounce of
+energy in him. The runner did not move. His left ankle felt curiously
+weak under the awful strain. Across the way he heard Reivers laugh
+shortly. Furiously Toppy jerked again; the runner flew into the air.
+Toppy felt the weak ankle sag under him in unaccountable fashion, and he
+fell heavily on his side and lay still.
+
+"Sprained his ankle," grunted the teamster, as they bore him to his
+bunk. "I knew something had to give. No man ever was made to stand up
+under that lift."
+
+"But I yanked it off!" groaned Toppy, half wild with pain. "I didn't
+quit--I yanked the darn thing off!"
+
+"Aye," said old Campbell, "you yanked it off, lad. Lay still now till we
+have off your shoe."
+
+"And holy smoke!" said the teamster. "What a yank! Hey! Whoap! Holy,
+red-roaring--he's gone and fainted!"
+
+This latter statement was not precisely true. Toppy had not fainted; he
+had suddenly succumbed to the demands of complete exhaustion. The
+overdriven, tired-out organs, wrenched and abused tissues, and
+fatigue-deadened nerves suddenly had cried, "Stop!" in a fashion that
+not all of Toppy's will-power could deny. One instant he lay flat on his
+back on the blankets of his bunk, wide awake, with Campbell tugging at
+the laces of his shoes; the next--a mighty sigh of peace heaved his big
+chest. Toppy had fallen asleep.
+
+It was not a natural sleep, nor a peaceful one. The racked muscles
+refused to be still; the raw nerve-centres refused to soothe themselves
+in the peace of complete senselessness. His whole body twitched. Toppy
+tossed and groaned. He awoke some time in the night with his stomach
+crying for food.
+
+"Drink um," said a voice somewhere, and a sturdy arm went under his head
+and a bowl containing something savoury and hot was held against his
+lips.
+
+"Hello, Tilly," chuckled Toppy deliriously. It was quite in keeping with
+things that Tilly, the squaw, should be holding his head and feeding him
+in the middle of the night. He drank with the avidity of a man parched
+and starving, and the hot broth pleasantly soothed him as it ran down
+his throat.
+
+"More!" he said, and Tilly gave him more.
+
+"Good fellow, Tilly," he murmured. "Good medicine. Who told you?"
+
+"Snow-Burner," grunted Tilly, laying his head on the pillow. "He send
+me. Sleep um now."
+
+"Sure," sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into his moaning, feverish
+slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX--A FRESH START
+
+
+When he awoke again to clear consciousness, it was morning. The sun
+which came in through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted up
+the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content to lie so. An
+inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort ruled in every inch of his
+being. The bored, heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had
+been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely gone. His tongue
+was cool; there was none of the old heavy blood-pressure in his head;
+his nerves were absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him. Toppy
+was quite conscious of the change, though he was too comfortable to do
+more than accept his peaceful condition as a fact.
+
+"Ho, hum! I feel like a new man," he murmured drowsily. "I wonder--ow!"
+
+He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became conscious that his
+left ankle was bandaged and sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the
+room--Campbell solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit of black, white
+collar, black tie, spick and span, with beard and hair carefully washed
+and combed.
+
+"Hello!" gasped Toppy sleepily. "Where you going--funeral?"
+
+"'Tis the Sabbath," said Campbell reverently, as he came to the side of
+the bunk. "And how do ye feel the day, lad?"
+
+"Fine!" said Toppy. "Considering that I had my ankle sprained last
+evening."
+
+The Scot eyed him closely.
+
+"So 'twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was it?" he asked cannily.
+
+"Why, sure," said Toppy. "Yesterday was Saturday, wasn't it? We were
+cleaning up the week's work. Why, what are you looking at me like that
+for?"
+
+"Aye," said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding the smile that
+strove to break through. "Yesterday was Saturday, but 'twas not the
+Saturday you sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was, lad, and
+ye've lain here in a fever, out of your head, ever since. Do you mind
+naught of the whole week?"
+
+Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long time.
+
+"Scotty, if you have to play jokes----"
+
+"Jokes!" spluttered Campbell, aghast. "Losh, mon! Didna I tell ye 'twas
+the Sabbath? No, 'tis no joke, I assure you. You did more than sprain
+your ankle when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely. Lad,
+you were in poor condition when you came to camp, and had I known it I
+would not have broken you in so hard. But you're a good man, lad; the
+best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition. And do you really feel
+good again?"
+
+"Why, I feel like a new man," said Toppy. "I feel as if I'd had a course
+of baths at Hot Springs."
+
+Campbell nodded.
+
+"The Snow-Burner said ye would. It's Tilly he's had doctoring ye. She's
+been feeding you some Indian concoction and keeping ye heated till your
+blankets were wet through. Oh, you've had scandalous good care, lad;
+Reivers to set your ankle, Tilly to doctor ye Indian-wise, and Miss
+Pearson and Reivers to drop in together now and anon to see how ye were
+standing the gaff. No wonder ye came through all right!"
+
+The room seemed suddenly to grow dark for Toppy. Reivers again--Reivers
+dropping in to look at him as he lay there helpless on his back. Reivers
+in the position of the master again; and the girl with him! Toppy
+impatiently threw off his covering.
+
+"Gimme my clothes, Scotty," he demanded, swinging himself to the edge of
+the bunk. "I'm tired of lying here on my back."
+
+Campbell silently handed over his clothing. Toppy was weak, but he
+succeeded in dressing himself and in tottering over to a chair.
+
+"So Miss Pearson came over here, did she?" he asked thoughtfully. "And
+with Reivers?"
+
+"Aye," said Scotty drily. "With Reivers. He has a way with the women,
+the Snow-Burner has."
+
+Toppy debated a moment; then he broke out and told Campbell all about
+how Reivers had deceived Miss Pearson into coming to Hell Camp. The old
+man listened with tightly pursed lips. As Toppy concluded he shook his
+head sorrowfully.
+
+"Poor lass, she's got a hard path before her then," he said. "If, as you
+say, she does not wish to care for Reivers."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Campbell slowly, "ye'll be understanding by this time that
+the Snow-Burner is no ordinar' man?"
+
+"He's a fiend--a savage with an Oxford education!" exploded Toppy.
+
+"He is--the Snow-Burner," said Campbell with finality. "You know what he
+is toward men. Toward women--he's worse!"
+
+"Good Heavens!"
+
+"Not that he is a woman-chaser. No; 'tis not his way. But--yon man has
+the strongest will in him I've ever seen in mortal man, and 'tis the
+will women bow to." He pulled his whiskers nervously and looked away.
+"I've known him four year now, and no woman in that time that he has set
+his will upon but in the end has--has followed him like a slave."
+
+Toppy's fists clenched, and he joyed to find that in spite of his
+illness his muscles went hard.
+
+"Ye've seen Tilly," continued Scotty with averted eyes. "Ye'll not be so
+blind that ye've not observed that she's no ordinar' squaw. Well, three
+years ago Tilly was teacher in the Chippewa Indian School--thin and
+straight--a Carlisle graduate and all. She met Reivers, and shunned
+him--at first. Reivers did not chase her. 'Tis not his way. But he bent
+his will upon her, and the poor girl left her life behind her and
+followed him, and kept following him, until ye see her as she is now.
+She would cut your throat or nurse ye as she did, no matter which, did
+he but command her. And she's not been the only one, either.
+
+"Nor have the rest of them been red."
+
+"The swine!" muttered Toppy.
+
+"More wolf than swine, lad. Perhaps more tiger than wolf. I don't think
+Reivers intends to break his word to yon lass. But I suspect that he
+won't have to. No; as it looks now, he won't. Given the opportunity to
+put his will upon her and she'll change her mind--like the others."
+
+"He's a beast, that's what he is!" said Toppy angrily. "And any woman
+who would fall for him would get no more than she deserves, even if
+she's treated like Tilly. Why, anybody can see that the man's instincts
+are all wrong. Right in an animal perhaps, but wrong in a human being.
+The right kind of women would shun him like poison."
+
+"I dunno," said Campbell, rubbing his chin. "Yon lass over in the office
+is as sweet and womanly a little lass as I've seen sin' I was a lad. And
+yet--look ye but out of the window, lad!"
+
+Toppy looked out of the window in the direction in which Campbell
+pointed. The window commanded a view of the gate to the stockade.
+Reivers was standing idly before the gate. Miss Pearson was coming
+toward him. As she approached he carelessly turned his head and looked
+her over from head to foot. From where he sat Toppy could see her smile.
+Then Reivers calmly turned his back upon her, and the smile on the
+girl's face died out. She stood irresolute for a moment, then turned and
+went slowly back toward the office, glancing occasionally over her
+shoulder toward the gate. Reivers did not look, but when she was out of
+sight he began to walk slowly toward the blacksmith-shop.
+
+"Bah!" Toppy turned his eyes from the window in mingled anger and
+disgust. He sat for a moment with a multitude of emotions working at his
+heart. Then he laughed bitterly.
+
+"Well, well, well!" he mocked. "You'd expect that from a squaw, but not
+from a white woman."
+
+"Mr. Reivers is a remarkable man," said Campbell, shaking his head.
+
+"Sure," said Toppy, "and it's a mistake to look for a remarkable woman
+up here in the woods."
+
+"I dunno." The smith looked a little hurt. "I dunno about that, lad. Yon
+lass seems remarkably sweet and ladylike to me."
+
+"Sure," sneered Toppy, pointing his thumb toward the gate. "That looked
+like it, didn't it?"
+
+"As for that, you've heard what I've told you about the Snow-Burner and
+women," said Campbell sorrowfully. "He has a masterful way with them."
+
+"A fine thing to be masterful over a little blonde fool like that!"
+
+Campbell scowled.
+
+"Even though you have no respect for the lass," he said curtly, "I see
+no reason why you should put it in words."
+
+"Why not? Why shouldn't I, or any one else, put it in words after that?"
+Toppy fairly shouted the words. "She's made the thing public herself.
+She came creeping up to him right out where anybody who was looking
+could see her, and there won't be a man in camp to-morrow but'll have
+heard that she's fallen for Reivers. Apparently she doesn't care; so why
+should I, or you, or anybody else? Reivers has got a masterful way with
+women! Ha, ha! Let it go at that. It's none of my business, that's a
+cinch."
+
+"No," agreed Campbell; "not if you talk that way, it's none of your
+business; that's sure."
+
+Toppy could have struck him for the emphatic manner in which he uttered
+the words. But Toppy was beginning to learn to control himself and he
+merely gritted his teeth. The sudden stab which he had felt in his heart
+at the sight of the girl and Reivers had passed. In one flash there had
+been overthrown the fine structure which he had built about her in his
+thoughts. He had placed her high above himself. For some unknown reason
+he had looked up to her from the first moment he had seen her. He had
+not considered himself worthy of her good opinion. And here she was
+flaunting her subservience to Reivers--to a cold, sneering brute--before
+the eyes of the whole camp!
+
+The rage and pain at the sight of the pair had come and gone, and that
+was all over. And now Toppy to his surprise found that it didn't make
+much difference. The girl, and what she was, what she thought of him, or
+of Reivers, no longer were of prime importance to him. He didn't care
+enough about that now to give her room in his thoughts.
+
+Reivers was what mattered now--Reivers, with his air of contemptuous
+dominance; Reivers, who had looked on and laughed when Toppy was tugging
+at the runner of the broken sleigh. That laugh seemed to ring in Toppy's
+ears. It challenged him even as it contemned him. It said, "I am your
+master; doubt it if you dare"; even as Reivers' cold smile had said the
+same to Rosky and the huddled bunch of Slavs.
+
+The girl--that was past. But Reivers had roused something deeper,
+something older, something fiercer than the feelings which had begun to
+stir in Toppy at the sight of the girl. Man--raw, big-thewed, world-old
+and always new man--had challenged unto man. And man had answered. The
+petty considerations of life were stripped away. Only one thing was of
+importance. The world to Toppy Treplin had become merely a place for
+Reivers, the Snow-Burner, and himself to settle the question which had
+cried for settlement since the moment when they first looked into each
+other's eyes: Which was the better man?
+
+Toppy smiled as he stretched himself and noted the new life that seemed
+to have come into his body. He knew what it meant. That strenuous siege
+of work and a week of fevered sweating had driven the alcohol out of his
+system. He was making a fresh start. A few weeks at the anvil now, and
+he would be in better shape than at any time since leaving school. He
+set his jaw squarely and heaved his big arms high above his head.
+
+"Well, Treplin," came an unmistakable voice from the doorway, "you're
+looking strenuous for a man just off the sickbed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X--THE DUEL BEGINS
+
+
+"I'm feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers," said Toppy quietly,
+though the voice of the man had thrilled him with the challenge in it.
+He turned his head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers with
+an expression of great serenity. The Big Game had begun between them,
+and Toppy was an expert at keeping his play hidden.
+
+"Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers," he said. "Silly
+thing, to sprain an ankle; but thanks to your expert bandaging it'll be
+ready to walk on soon."
+
+"It wasn't a bad sprain," said Reivers, moving up and standing in front
+of him. That was Reivers all through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was
+standing, looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black anger
+boiled in Toppy's heart, but by his expression one could read only that
+he was a grateful young man.
+
+"No, it wasn't a bad sprain," continued Reivers, his upper lip lifting
+in its customary smile of scorn, "but--a man who attempts such heavy
+lifts must have no weak spot in him."
+
+Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position in his chair and
+smiled.
+
+"'Attempts' is hardly the right word there, Reivers. Pardon me for
+differing with you," he laughed. "You may remember that the attempt was
+a success."
+
+A glint of amusement in Reivers' cold eyes showed that he appreciated
+that something more weighty than a mere question of words lay beneath
+that apparently casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed, as if
+trying to see beyond Toppy's smile and read what lay behind, but Toppy's
+good poker-face now stood him in good stead, and he looked blandly back
+at Reivers' peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers laughed.
+
+"Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting me," he said. "A
+chap gets rusty out here, where none of the laws of speech are observed.
+I'll depend upon you to bring me back to form again--later on. Is your
+ankle really feeling strong?"
+
+For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
+
+"Well, well!" laughed Reivers. "Then Miss Pearson's sympathy was all
+wasted. What's the matter, Treplin? Aren't you glad to hear that
+charming young lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and ask me
+to step in and see how you are this morning?"
+
+"Not particularly," replied Toppy, although he was forced to admit to
+himself a glow at this explanation of the girl's conversation with
+Reivers.
+
+"What are you interested in?" said Reivers suddenly.
+
+Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
+
+"I tell you what I'd like to do, Reivers; I'd like to learn the
+logging-business--learn how to run a camp like this--run it efficiently, I
+mean."
+
+"Worthy ambition," came the instant reply, "and you've come to the right
+school. How fortunate for you that you fell into this camp! You might
+have got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You might even have
+fallen in with a humanitarian. Then you'd never have learned how to make
+men do things for you, and consequently you'd never have learned to run
+a camp efficiently.
+
+"Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in with me. I'll rid you
+of the silly little ideas about right and wrong that books and false
+living have instilled in your head. I believe you've got a good
+head--almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you were in a situation
+where it was your life or the other fellow's, you'd survive. That's the
+proof of a good head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? Good!
+Is your ankle strong enough for you to get around on?"
+
+Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using it as a cane, hobbled
+around the room.
+
+"Yes, it will stand up all right," he said. "What's the idea?"
+
+"Come with me," laughed Reivers, swinging toward the door. "We're just
+in time for lesson number one on how to run a camp efficiently."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI--"HELL-CAMP" COURT
+
+
+As Reivers led the way out of the shop Toppy saw that Miss Pearson was
+standing in the door of the office across the way. He saw also that she
+was looking at him. He did not respond to her look nor volunteer a
+greeting, but deliberately looked away from her as he kept pace with
+Reivers, who was setting the way toward the gate of the stockade.
+
+It was a morning such as the one when, back in Rail Head, the girl had
+kicked up the snow and said to him, "Isn't it glorious?" But since then
+Toppy felt bitterly that he had grown so much older, so disillusioned,
+that never again would he be guilty of the tender feelings that the girl
+had evoked that morning. The sun was bright, the crisp air invigorating,
+and the blood bounded gloriously through his young body. But Toppy did
+not wax enthusiastic.
+
+He was grimly glad of the mighty stream of life that he felt surging
+within him; he would have use for all the might later on. But no more.
+The world was a harder, a less pretty place than he, in his
+inexperience, had fancied it before coming to Hell Camp.
+
+"What's this lesson?" he asked gruffly of Reivers. "What are you going
+to show me?"
+
+"A little secret in the art of keeping brute-men satisfied with the
+place in life which a superior mind has allotted to them," replied
+Reivers. "What is the first need of the brute? Food, of course. And the
+second is--fight. Give the lower orders of mankind, which is the kind to
+use in running a camp efficiently, plenty of food and fight, and the
+problem of restlessness is solved.
+
+"That's history, Treplin, as you know. If these foolish, timid
+capitalists and leaders of men who are searching their petty souls for a
+remedy to combat the ravages of the modern disease called Socialism only
+would read history intelligently, they would find the remedy made to
+order. Fight! War! Give the lower brutes war; let 'em get out and
+slaughter one another, and they'd soon forget their pitiful, clumsy
+attempts to think for themselves. Give them guns with a little sharp
+steel on the end of the barrel, turn them loose on each other--any excuse
+would do--and they'd soon be so busy driving said steel into one
+another's thick bodies that the leaders could slip the yoke back on
+their necks and get 'em under hand again, where they belong.
+
+"And they'd be happier, too, because a man-brute has got to have so much
+fighting, or what he calls his brain begins to trouble him; and then he
+imagines he has a soul and is otherwise unhappy. If there is fighting,
+or the certain prospect of fighting, there's no alleged thinking.
+There's the solution of all difficulties with the lower orders. Of
+course you've noticed how perfectly contented and happy the men in this
+camp are?" he laughed, turning suddenly on Toppy.
+
+"Yes," said Toppy. "Especially Rosky and his bunch."
+
+The Snow-Burner smiled appreciatively.
+
+"Rosky, poor clod, hadn't had any fighting. I'd overlooked him. Had I
+known that thoughts had begun to trouble his poor, half-ox brain, I'd
+have given him some fighting, and he'd have been as content for the next
+few weeks as a man who--who's just been through delirium tremens.
+
+"He had no object in life, you see. If he'd had a good enemy to hate and
+fight, he wouldn't have been troubled by thoughts, and consequently he
+wouldn't now be lying in his bunk with his leg in splints.
+
+"There is the system in a nutshell--give a man an enemy to hate and wish
+to destroy, and he won't be any trouble to you during working-hours or
+after. That's what I do--pick out the ones who might get restless and set
+them to hating each other. And now," he concluded, as they reached the
+gate and passed through, "you'll have a chance to see how it works out."
+
+The big gate, opened for them by two armed guards, swung shut behind
+them, and Toppy once more looked around the enclosure in which he had
+had his first glimpse of the Snow-Burner's system of handling the men
+under him. The place this morning, however, presented a different, a
+more impressive scene. It was all but filled with a mass of rough-clad,
+rough-moving, rough-talking male humanity.
+
+Perhaps a hundred and fifty men were waiting in the enclosure. For the
+greater part they were of the dark, thick and heavily clumsy type that
+Toppy had learned to include under the general title of Bohunk; but here
+and there over the dark, ox-like faces rose the fair head of a tall man
+of some Northern breed. Slavs comprised the bulk of the gathering; the
+Scandinavians, Irish, Americans--the "white men," as they called
+themselves--were conspicuous only by contrast and by the manner in which
+they isolated themselves from the Slavs.
+
+And between the two breeds there was not much room for choice. For while
+the faces of the Slavs were heavy with brute stupidity and malignity,
+those of the North-bred men reeked with fierceness, cruelty and crime.
+The Slavs were at Hell Camp because they were tricked into coming and
+forced to remain under shotgun rule; the others were there mostly
+because sheriffs found it unsafe and unprofitable to seek any man whom
+the Snow-Burner had in his camp. They were "hiding out." Criminals, the
+majority of them, they preyed on the stupid Slavs as a matter of course;
+and this situation Reivers had utilised, as he put it, "to keep his men
+content."
+
+Though there was a gulf of difference between the extreme types of the
+crowd, Toppy soon realised that just now their expressions were
+strangely alike. They were all impatient and excited. The excitement
+seemed to run in waves; one man moved and others moved with him. One
+threw up his head and others did likewise. Their faces were expectant
+and cruel. It was like the milling of excited cattle, only worse.
+
+"Come along, Treplin," said Reivers, and led the way toward the centre
+of the enclosure. The noises of the crowd, the talking, the short
+laughter, the shuffling, ceased instantly at his appearance. The crowd
+parted before him as before some natural force that brushed all men
+aside. It opened up even to the centre of the yard, and then Toppy saw
+whither Reivers was leading.
+
+On the bare ground was roped off a square which Toppy, with practised
+eye, saw was the regulation twenty-four-foot prize-fight ring. Rough,
+unbarked tamarack poles formed the corner-posts of the ring, and the
+ropes were heavy wire logging-cable. A yard from one side of the ring
+stood a table with a chair upon it. Reivers, with a careless, "Take a
+seat on the table and keep your eyes open," stepped easily upon the
+table, seated himself in the chair and looked amused as the men
+instinctively turned their faces up toward him.
+
+"Well, men," he said in a voice which reached like cold steel into the
+far corners of the enclosure, "court is open. The first case is Jan
+Torta and his brother Mikel against Bill Sheedy, whom they accuse of
+stealing ninety-eight dollars from them while they slept."
+
+As he spoke the names two young Slavs, clumsy but strongly built, their
+heavy faces for once alight with hate and desire for revenge, pushed
+close to one side of the ring, while on the other side a huge red-haired
+Celt, bloated and evil of face, stepped free of the crowd.
+
+"Bill stole the money, all right," continued Reivers, without looking at
+any of them. "He had the chance, and being a sneak thief by nature he
+took it. That's all right. The Torta boys had the money; now Bill's got
+it. The question is: Is Bill man enough to keep it? That's what we're
+going to settle now. He's got to show that he's a better man than the
+two fellows he took the money from. If he isn't, he's got to give up the
+money, or the two can have him to do what they want to with him. All
+right, boys; get 'em started there."
+
+At his brisk order four men whom Toppy had seen around camp as guards
+stepped forward, two to Sheedy, two to the Torta brothers, and proceeded
+first to search them for weapons, next to strip them to the waist.
+Sheedy hung back.
+
+"Not two av um tuh wanst, Mr. Reivers?" he asked humbly. "One after deh
+udder it oughta be; two tuh wanst, that ain't no way."
+
+"And why not, Bill?" asked Reivers gently. "You took it from both of
+them, didn't you? Then keep it against both of 'em, Bill. Throw 'em in
+there, boys!"
+
+Toppy looked around at the rows of eager faces that were pressing toward
+the ringside. Prize-fights he had witnessed by the score. He had even
+participated in one or two for a lark, and the brute lust that springs
+into the eyes of spectators was no stranger to him. But never had he
+seen anything like this. There was none of the restraint imposed upon
+the human countenance by civilisation in the fierce faces that gathered
+about this ring.
+
+Out of the dull eyes the primitive killing-animal showed unrestrained,
+unashamed. No dilettante interest in strength or skill here; merely the
+bare bloodthirsty desire to see a fellow-animal fight and bleed. Up
+above, the sky was clean and blue; the rough log walls shut out the rest
+of the world; the breathing of a mob of excited men was the only sound
+upon the quiet Sunday air. It was the old arena again; the merciless,
+gore-hungry crowd; the maddened gladiators; and upon the chair on the
+table, Reivers, lord of it all, the king-man, to whom it was all but an
+idle moment's play.
+
+Reivers, above it all, untouched by it all, and yet directing and
+swaying it all as his will listed. Laws, rules, teachings, creeds--all
+were discarded. Primitive force had for the nonce been given back its
+rule. And over it, and controlling it, as well as each of the maddened
+eight-score men around the ring--Reivers.
+
+And so thoroughly did Reivers dominate the whole affair that Toppy,
+sitting carelessly on the edge of the table, was conscious of it, and
+knew that he, too, felt instinctively inclined to do as the men did--to
+look to Reivers for a sign before daring to speak or make a move. The
+Snow-Burner was in the saddle. It wasn't natural, but every phase of the
+situation emanated from his master-man's will. It was even his wish that
+Toppy should sit thus at his feet and look on, and his wish was
+gratified.
+
+But it was well that the visor of Toppy's cap hid his eyes, else Reivers
+might have wondered at the look that flashed up at him from them.
+
+"Throw 'em in!" snapped Reivers, and the handlers thrust the three
+combatants, stripped to the waists but wearing calked lumberjack shoes,
+through the ropes.
+
+A cry went up to the sky from a hundred and fifty throats around the
+ringside--a cry that had close kinship with the joyous, merciless
+"Au-rr-ruh" of a wolf about to make its kill. Then an instant's silence
+as the rudely handled fighters came to their feet and faced for action.
+Then another hideous yelp rent the still air; the fighters had come
+together!
+
+"Queer ring-costumes, eh, Treplin?" came Reivers' voice mockingly. "Our
+own rules; the feet as well as the hands. Lord, what oxen!"
+
+The two Slavs had sprung upon their despoiler like two maddened cattle.
+Sheedy, rushing to meet them, head down, swung right and left overhand;
+and with a mighty smacking of hard fist on naked flesh, one Torta rolled
+on the ground while his brother stopped in his tracks, his arms pressed
+to his middle. The crowd bellowed.
+
+"Yes, I knew Sheedy had been a pug," said Reivers judicially.
+
+Sheedy deliberately took aim and swung for the jaw of the man who had
+not gone down. The Slav instinctively ducked his head, and the blow,
+slashing along his jawbone, tore loose his ear. Half stunned, he dropped
+to his knees, and Sheedy stepped back to poise for a killing kick. But
+now the man who had been knocked down first was on his feet, and with
+the scream of a wounded animal he hurled himself through the air and
+went down, his arms close-locked around Sheedy's right leg. Sheedy
+staggered. The ring became a little hell of distorted human speech.
+Sheedy bellowed horrible curses as he beat to a pulp the face that
+sought to bury itself in his thigh; his assailant screeched in Slavish
+terror; and the bull-like roar of his brother, rising to his feet with
+cleared senses and springing into the battle, intermingled with both.
+Sheedy's red face went pale.
+
+Around the ringside the faces of the Slavs shone with relief. The fight
+was going their way; they roared encouragement and glee in their own
+guttural tongue. The others--Irish, Americans, Scandinavians--rooting for
+Sheedy only because he was of their breed, were silent.
+
+"Hang tough, Bill," said one man quietly; and then in a second the
+slightly superior brains in Sheedy's head had turned the battle. Like a
+flash he dropped flat on his back as his fresh assailant reached out to
+grip him. The furious Slav followed him helplessly in the fall; and a
+single gruff, appreciative shout came from the few "white men."
+
+For they had seen, even as the Slav stumbled, Bill Sheedy's left leg
+shoot up like a catapult, burying the calked shoe to the ankle in the
+man's soft middle and flinging him to one side, a shuddering, senseless
+wreck. The man with his arms around Sheedy's leg looked up and saw. He
+was alone now, alone against the big man who had knocked him down with
+such ease. Toppy saw the man's mouth open and his face go yellow.
+
+"Na, na, na!" he cried piteously, as Sheedy's blows again rained upon
+him. "I give up, give up, give up!"
+
+He tried to bury his face in Bill's thigh; and Bill, mad with success,
+strove to pound him loose.
+
+"Kill him, Bill!" said one of the Irishmen quietly. "You got him now;
+kill him."
+
+"Stop." Reivers did not raise his voice. He seemed scarcely interested.
+Yet the roars around the ring died down. Sheedy stopped a blow half
+delivered and dropped his arms. The Slav released his clawlike hold and
+ran, sobbing, toward his prostrate brother.
+
+"All right, Bill; you keep the money--for all them," said Reivers. "Clear
+out the ring, boys, and get that other pair in there."
+
+The guards, springing into the ring as if under a lash, picked up the
+senseless man and thrust him like a sack of grain through the ropes and
+on to the ground at the feet of a group of his countrymen. Toppy saw
+these pick the man up and bear him away. The man's head hung down limply
+and dragged on the ground, and a thin stream of blood ran steadily out
+of one side of his mouth. His brother followed, loudly calling him by
+name.
+
+"Very efficacious, that left leg of Bill's; eh, Treplin?" said Reivers
+lightly. "Bill was the superior creature there. He had the wit and will
+to survive in a crisis; therefore he is entitled to the rewards of the
+superior over the inferior, which in this case means the ninety-eight
+dollars which the Torta boys once had. That's justice--natural justice
+for you, Treplin; and all the fumbling efforts of the lawmakers who've
+tried through the ages to reduce life to a pen-and-paper basis haven't
+been able to change the old rule one bit.
+
+"I'll admit that courts and all the fakery that goes with them have
+reduced the thing to a battle of brains, but after all it's the same old
+battle; the stronger win and hold. And," he concluded, waving his hand
+at the crowd, "you'll admit that Bill, and those Torta boys wouldn't be
+at their best in a contest of intelligence."
+
+Toppy refused Reivers the pleasure of seeing how the brutality of the
+affair disgusted him.
+
+"Why don't you follow the thing out to its logical conclusion?" he said
+carelessly. "The thing isn't settled as long as the Torta boys can
+possibly make reprisals. To be a consistent savage you'd have to let 'em
+go to it until one had killed the other. But even you don't dare to do
+that, do you, Reivers?"
+
+Reivers laughed, but the look that he bent on Toppy's bland face
+indicated that he was a trifle puzzled.
+
+"Then you wouldn't be running the camp efficiently, Treplin," he said.
+"It wouldn't make any difference if they were all Tortas; but Bill's a
+valuable man. He furnishes some one a bellyful of hating and fighting
+every week. No; I wouldn't have Bill killed for less than two hundred
+dollars. He's one of my best antidotes for the disease of discontent."
+
+The guards now had pulled two other men up to the ropes and were
+searching and stripping them. Toppy stared at the disparity in the sizes
+of the men as the clothes were pulled off them. One stood up strong and
+straight, the muscles bulging big beneath his dark skin, his neck short
+and heavy, his head cropped and round. He wore a small, upturned
+moustache and carried himself with a certain handy air that indicated
+his close acquaintance with ring-events. The other man was short and
+dark, obviously an Italian; the skin of his body was a sickly white, his
+face olive green. He stood crouched, and beneath his ragged beard two
+teeth gleamed, like the fangs of a snarling dog.
+
+"Antonio, the Knife-Expert, and Mahmout, the Strangling Bulgarian,"
+announced Reivers laughingly. "Tony tried to stick Mahmout because of a
+little lady back in Rail Head, and made such a poor job of it that
+Mahmout has offered to meet him in the ring; Tony with his knife,
+Mahmout with his wrestling-tricks. Start 'em off."
+
+The Bulgarian was under the ropes and upright in the ring before the
+Italian had started. He was in his stocking-feet, and despite the
+clumsiness of his build he moved with a quickness and ease that told of
+the fine co-ordination of the effective athlete. When the Italian
+entered the ring he held his right hand behind his back, and in the hand
+gleamed the six-inch blade of a wicked-looking stiletto.
+
+A shiver ran along Toppy's spine, but he continued to play the game.
+
+"Evidently Mahmout isn't a valuable man; you don't care what happens to
+him," he said.
+
+"Not particularly," replied Reivers seriously. "He's a good man on the
+rollways--nothing extra. Still, I hardly believe Tony can kill him--not
+this time, at least."
+
+The faces around the ring grew fiercer now. Growled curses and
+exclamations came through clenched teeth. Here was the spectacle that
+the brute-spirit hungered for--the bare, living flesh battling for life
+against the merciless, gleaming steel.
+
+The big Bulgarian moved neatly forward, bent over at the waist, his
+strong arms extended, hands open before him in the practised wrestler's
+guard and attack. His feet did not leave the ground as he sidled
+forward, and his eyes never moved from the Italian's right arm. The
+latter, snarling and panting, retreated slightly, then began to circle
+carefully, his small eyes searching for the opening through which he
+could leap in and drive home his steel.
+
+The Bulgarian turned with him, his guard always before him, as a bull
+turns its head to face the circling wolf. Without a sound the knife-man
+suddenly stopped and lunged a sweeping slash at the menacing hands.
+Mahmout, grasping for a hold on hand or wrist, caught the tip of the
+blade in his palm, and a slow bellow of rage shook him as he saw the
+blood flow. But he did not lower his guard nor take his eyes from his
+opponent.
+
+The Italian retreated and circled again. A horrible sneer distorted his
+face, and the knife flashed in the sunlight as he slashed it to and fro
+before the other's hands. The crowd growled its appreciation. Three
+times Antonio leaped forward, slashed, and leaped back again; and each
+time the blood flowed from Mahmout's slashed fingers. But the wrestler's
+guard never lowered nor did he falter in his set plan of battle. He was
+working to get his man into a corner.
+
+The Italian soon saw this and, leaping nimbly sidewise, lunged for
+Mahmout's ribs. The right arm of the Bulgarian dropped in time to save
+his life, but the knife, deflected from its fatal aim, ripped through
+the top muscles of his back for six inches. The mob roared at the fresh
+blood, but Mahmout was working silently. In his spring the Italian had
+only leaped toward another corner of the ring.
+
+Mahmout leaped suddenly toward him. Antonio, stabbing swiftly at the
+hands reached out for him, jumped back. A cry from a countryman in the
+crowd warned him. Swiftly he glanced over his shoulder, saw that he was
+cornered, and with a low, sweeping swing of the arm he threw the knife
+low at Mahmout's abdomen.
+
+The blade glinted as it flashed through the air; it thudded as it struck
+home; but the death-cry which the mob yelped out died short. With the
+expert's quickness Mahmout had flung his huge forearms before the
+speeding blade. Now he held his left arm up. The stiletto, quivering
+from the impact, had pierced it through.
+
+With a fierce roar Mahmout plucked out the knife, hurled it from the
+ring and dived forward. The Italian fought like a fury, feet, teeth and
+fingernails making equal play. He sank his teeth in the injured left
+arm. Mahmout groped with his one sound hand and methodically clamped a
+hold on an ankle. He made sure that the hold was a firm one; then he
+wrenched suddenly--once. The Italian screamed and stiffened straight up
+under the appalling pain. Then he fell flat to the ground, and Toppy saw
+that his right foot was twisted squarely around and that the leg lay
+limp on the ground like a twisted rag.
+
+"Stop," said Reivers, and Mahmout stepped back. "Take Tony's knife away
+from him, boys. Mahmout wins--for the time being."
+
+"Inconsistent again," muttered Toppy. "Your scheme is all fallacies,
+Reivers. You give Tony a knife with which he may kill Mahmout at one
+stroke, but you don't let Mahmout finish him when he's got him down. Why
+don't you carry your system to its logical conclusion?"
+
+"Why don't I?" chuckled Reivers, stepping down from the table. "Why,
+simply because Signor Antonio is the camp cook, and cooks are too scarce
+to be destroyed unnecessarily. Now come along, Treplin. Court's
+adjourned; a light docket to-day. I've been thinking of your wanting to
+learn how to run a logging-camp. I'm going to give you a change of jobs.
+You'll be no good in the blacksmith-shop till your ankle's normal again.
+Come along; I'll show you what I've picked out for you."
+
+He turned away from the ring as from a finished episode in the day's
+work. That was over. Whether Torta or Antonio lived or died, were whole
+or crippled for the rest of their lives, had no room in his thoughts. He
+strode toward the gate as if the yard were empty, and the crowd opened a
+way far before him. Outside the gate he led the way around the stockade
+toward where the river roared and tumbled through the chutes of Cameron
+Dam.
+
+A cliff-like ledge, perhaps thirty feet in height, situated close to one
+end of the dam, was Reivers' objective, and he led Toppy around to the
+side facing the river. Here the dirt had been scraped away on the face
+of the ledge, and a great cave torn in the exposed rock. The hole was
+probably fifty feet wide, and ran from twelve to fifteen feet under the
+brow of the ledge. Toppy was surprised to see no timbers upholding the
+rocky roof, which seemed at any moment likely to drop great masses of
+jagged stone into the opening beneath.
+
+"My little rock-pile," explained Reivers lightly. "When my brutes aren't
+good I put 'em to work here. The rock goes into the dam out there. Just
+at present Rosky's band of would-be malcontents are the ones who are
+suffering for daring to be dissatisfied with the--ah--simplicity, let us
+say, of Hell Camp."
+
+He laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"I'm going to put you in charge of this quarry, Treplin. You're to see
+that they get one hundred wheelbarrows of rock out of here per hour.
+You'll be here at daylight to-morrow."
+
+Toppy nodded quietly.
+
+"What's the punishment here?" he asked, puzzled. "It looks like nothing
+more than hard work to me."
+
+Reivers smiled the same smile that he had smiled upon Rosky.
+
+"Look at the roof of that pit, Treplin," he said. "You've noticed that
+it isn't timbered up. Occasionally a stone drops down. Sometimes several
+stones. But one hundred barrows an hour have to come out of there just
+the same. And those rocks up there, you'll notice, are beautifully sharp
+and heavy."
+
+Toppy felt Reivers' eyes upon him, watching to see what effect this
+explanation would have, and consequently he no more betrayed his
+feelings than he had at the brutal scenes of the "court."
+
+"I see," he said casually. "I suppose this is why you made me read up on
+fractures?"
+
+"Partly," said Reivers. He looked up at the jagged rocks in the roof of
+the pit and grinned. "And sometimes an accident here calls for a job for
+a pick and shovel. But I'm just, Treplin; only the malcontents are put
+to work in here."
+
+"That is, those who have dared to declare themselves something besides
+your helpless slaves."
+
+"Or dared to think of declaring themselves thus," agreed Reivers
+promptly.
+
+"I see." Toppy was looking blandly at the roof, but his mind was working
+busily.
+
+"Just why do you give me charge of this hole, Reivers--if you don't mind
+my asking? Isn't it rather an unusual honour for a green hand to be put
+over a crew like this?"
+
+"Unusual! Oh, how beastly banal of you, Treplin!" laughed Reivers
+carelessly. "Surely you didn't expect me to do the usual thing, did you?
+You say you want to learn how to handle a camp like this. You're an
+interesting sort of creature, and I'd like to see you work out in the
+game of handling men, so I give you this chance. Oh, I'll do great
+things for you, Treplin, before I'm done with you! You can imagine all
+that I've got in store for you."
+
+The smile vanished and he turned away. He was through with this
+incident, too. Without another word or look at Toppy he went back to the
+stockade, his mind already busy with some other project. Toppy stood
+looking after him until Reivers' broad back disappeared around the
+corner of the stockade.
+
+"No, you clever devil!" he muttered. "I can't imagine. But whatever it
+is, I promise I'll hand it back to you with a little interest, or
+furnish a job for a pick and shovel."
+
+He walked slowly back to the blacksmith-shop. He was glad to be left
+alone. Though he had permitted no sign of it to escape him, Toppy had
+been enraged and sickened at what he had seen in the stockade. He
+admitted to himself that it was not the fact that men had been disabled
+and crippled, nor the brutal rules that had governed, nor that men had
+been exposed to death at the hands of others before his eyes, that had
+stirred him so. It was--Reivers. Reivers sitting up there on the table
+playing with men's bodies and lives as with so many cards--Reivers, the
+dominant, lord over his fellows.
+
+The veins swelled in Toppy's big neck as he thought of Reivers, and his
+hitherto good-natured face took on a scowl that might have become some
+ancestral man-captain in the days of mace and mail, but which never
+before had found room on Toppy's countenance--not even when the opposing
+half-backs were guilty of slugging. But he was playing another game now,
+an older one, a fiercer one, and one which called to him as nothing had
+called before. It was the man-game now; and out there in the old, stern
+forest, spurred by the challenge of the man who was his natural enemy,
+the primitive fighting-man in Toppy shook off the restraint with which
+breeding, education and living had cumbered him, and stood out in a
+fashion that would have shocked Toppy's friends back East.
+
+Near the shop he met Miss Pearson. By her manner he saw that she had
+been waiting for him, but Toppy merely raised his cap and made to pass
+on.
+
+"Mr. Treplin!" There was astonishment at his rudeness in her
+exclamation.
+
+"Well?" said Toppy.
+
+"Your ankle?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Pardon me for not expressing my thanks before. It's almost
+well--thanks to you and Mr. Reivers."
+
+She made a slight shrinking movement and stood looking at him for a
+moment. She opened her lips, but no words came.
+
+"Old Scotty told me about your kindness in coming to see me, you and Mr.
+Reivers together," said Toppy. "It was a relief to learn that your
+confidence in Reivers was justified."
+
+She looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. A troubled look swept
+over her face. Then with a toss of the head she turned and crossed the
+road, and Toppy swung on his way to the room in the rear of the shop and
+closed the door behind him with a vicious slam.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII--TOPPY'S FIRST MOVE
+
+
+Next morning, in the cold stillness which precedes the coming of
+daylight in the North, Toppy stood leaning on his axe-handle cane and
+watched his crew of a dozen men file out of the stockade gate and turn
+toward the stone-quarry. They walked with the driven air of prisoners
+going to punishment. In the darkness their squat, shapeless figures were
+scarcely human. Their heads hung, their steps were listless, as if they
+had just completed a hard day's work instead of having arisen from a
+hearty breakfast.
+
+The complete lack of spirit evinced by the men irritated Toppy. Was
+Reivers right after all? Were they nothing but clods, undeserving of
+fair and intelligent treatment?
+
+"Hey! Wake up there! You look like a bunch of corpses. Show some life!"
+cried Toppy, in whom the bitter morning air was sending the red blood
+tingling.
+
+The men did not raise their heads. They quickened their stumbling steps
+a little, as a heavy horse shambles forward a little under the whip. One
+or two looked back, beyond where Toppy was walking at the side of the
+line. Treplin with curiosity followed their glances. A grim-lipped
+shotgun guard with a hideous hawk nose had emerged from the darkness,
+and with his short-barrelled weapon in the crook of his arm was
+following the line at a distance of fifty or sixty feet. Toppy halted
+abruptly. So did the guard.
+
+"What's the idea?" demanded Toppy. "Reivers send you?"
+
+"Yes," said the guard gruffly.
+
+"Does it take two of us to make this gang work?" Toppy was irritated.
+Reivers, he knew, would have handled the gang alone.
+
+"The boss sent me," said the guard, with a finality that indicated that
+for him that ended the discussion.
+
+The daylight now came wanly up the gap made in the forest by the
+brawling river, and the men stood irresolute before the quarry and
+peered up anxiously at the roof of the pit.
+
+"Grab your tools," said Toppy. "Get in there and get to it."
+
+The men, some of them taking picks and crowbars, some wheelbarrows, were
+soon ready to begin the day's work. But there was a hitch somewhere.
+They stood at the entrance to the pit and did not go in. They looked up
+at the threatening roof; then they looked anxiously, pleadingly, at
+Toppy. But Toppy was thinking savagely of how Reivers would have handled
+the gang alone and he paid no attention.
+
+"Get in there!" he roared. "Come on; get to work!"
+
+Accustomed to being driven, they responded at once to his command.
+Between two fears, fear of the dropping rocks and fear of the man over
+them, they entered the quarry and began the day's work. The guard took
+up a position on a slight eminence, where he was always in plain sight
+of the men, whether in the cave or wheeling the rock out to the dam. He
+held his gun constantly in the hollow of his arm, like a hunter.
+
+Ten minutes after the first crowbar had clanged against rock in the
+quarry there was a rumbling sound, a crash, a scream; and the men came
+scrambling out in terror. Their rush stopped abruptly just outside the
+cave. Toppy was standing directly before them; the man with the gun had
+noisily cocked his weapon and brought the black barrel to bear on the
+heads of the men. Half of them slunk at once back into the cave. One of
+the others held up a bleeding hand to Toppy.
+
+"Ah, pleess, bahss, pleess," he pleaded. "Rock kill us next time.
+Pleess, bahss!"
+
+There was a moment of silence while Toppy looked at the men's
+terror-stricken faces. The shotgun guard rattled the slide on his gun.
+The men began to retreat into the cave, their helplessness and
+hopelessness writ large upon their flat faces.
+
+"Hold on there!" said Toppy suddenly. After all, a fellow couldn't do
+things like that--drive helpless cattle like these to certain injury,
+even possible death. "I'll take a look in there."
+
+He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men and entered the pit. A
+few rocks had dropped from the roof, luckily falling in a far corner
+beyond where the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how serious
+this petty accident was; for the whole roof of the cave now was
+loosened, and as sure as the men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath
+they would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads.
+
+"Like rats in a trap," he thought. "Hi!" he called. "Get out of here.
+Get out!"
+
+Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile of old timbers which
+probably had been used for piling while the dam was being put in.
+Thither he now led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself he
+hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang, each bearing a timber. A
+sudden change had come over the men as he indicated what he was going to
+do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was gone. Some of them smiled,
+and some talked excitedly. Under Toppy's direction they went to work
+with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave. It was only a
+half-hour's work to place the props so that the men working beneath were
+free of any serious danger from above. Toppy could sense the change of
+feeling toward him that had come over the men as they saw the timbers go
+into place, and he was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably.
+They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and the gratitude in
+their faces was pitiful to behold.
+
+"Now jump!" said Toppy when the roof was safely propped. "Hustle and
+make up the time we've lost."
+
+As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang with noise as the men
+furiously tore loose the rock and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a
+long breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard spat in disgust.
+
+"Will you do me a favour?" said Toppy, suddenly swinging toward him.
+
+"What is it?" asked the man.
+
+"Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him your services are no
+longer required at this spot. Tell him I said you looked like a fool,
+standing up there with your bum gun. Tell him--" Toppy, despite his sore
+ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside the guard before the latter
+thought of making a move--"that I said I'd throw you and your gun in the
+river if you didn't duck. And for your own information--" Toppy was
+towering over the man--"I'll do it right now, unless you get out of
+here--quick!"
+
+The guard's shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy's and failed. Against the
+Slavs he would have dared to use his gun; they were his inferiors.
+Against Toppy he did not dare even so much as to think of the weapon,
+and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid of men who looked him in
+the eyes.
+
+"The boss sent me here," he said sullenly.
+
+Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to the guard's. The man
+shrank.
+
+"Duck!" said Toppy. That was all. The guard moved away with an alacrity
+that showed how uncomfortable the spot had become to him.
+
+"You'll hear about this!" he whined from a distance.
+
+And Toppy laughed, laughed carelessly and loudly, rampant with the
+sensation of power. The men, scurrying past with barrows of rock, noted
+the retreat of the guard and smiled. They looked up at Toppy with
+slavish admiration, as lesser men look up to the champion who has
+triumphed before their eyes. One or two of the older men raised their
+hats as they passed him, their Old-World serf-like way of showing how
+they felt toward him.
+
+"Jump!" ordered Toppy gruffly. "Get a move on there; make up that lost
+time."
+
+Reivers had said that a hundred barrows an hour must be dumped into the
+dam. With a half hour lost in shoring up the roof, there were fifty
+loads to be caught up during the day if the average was to be
+maintained. Carefully timing each load and keeping tally for half an
+hour, Toppy saw that a hundred loads per hour was the limit of his gang
+working at a normal pace. To get out the hundred loads they must keep
+steadily at work, with no time lost because of the falling rocks from
+above.
+
+He began to see the method of Reivers' apparent madness in placing him
+in charge of the gang. With the gang working in the dead, terrorised
+fashion that had characterised their movements before the timbers were
+in place, Toppy knew that he would have failed; he could not have got
+out the hundred loads per hour. Reivers would have proved him to be his
+inferior; for Reivers, with his inhumanity, would have driven the gang
+as if no lives nor limbs hung on the tissue.
+
+Toppy smiled grimly as he looked at his watch and marked new figures on
+the tally sheet. The men, pitifully grateful for the protecting timbers,
+had taken hold of their work with such new life that the rock was going
+into the dam at the rate of one hundred and twenty loads an hour.
+
+"Move number one!" muttered Toppy, snapping shut his watch. "I wonder
+what the Snow-Burner's come-back will be when he knows. Hey, you
+roughnecks! Keep moving, there; keep moving!"
+
+The men responded cheerfully to his every command. They could gladly
+obey his will; they were safe under him; he had taken care of them, the
+helpless ones. That evening, when they filed back into the stockade
+under Toppy's watchful eye, one of the older men, a swarthy old fellow
+with large brass rings in his ears, sank his hat low as he passed in.
+
+"Buna nopte, Domnule," he said humbly.
+
+"What did he say?" demanded Toppy of one of the young men who knew a
+little English.
+
+"Plees, bahss; old man, he Magyar," was the reply. "He say, 'Good night,
+master.'"
+
+Toppy stood dumfounded while the line passed through the gate.
+
+"Well," he said with a grin, "what do you know about that?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII--REIVERS REPLIES
+
+
+Reivers did not come to the shop that night for his evening diversion,
+nor did Toppy see him at all during the next day. But in the morning
+following he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in his own peculiar
+way of Toppy's action in driving the shotgun guard away from the quarry.
+As the line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill half
+light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang, a cheerful, stocky man
+called Mikal, was missing. In his place, walking with the successful
+plug-ugly's insolent swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the
+appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy knew that Reivers had
+made another move in his tantalising game.
+
+He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought of it. Reivers was
+playing with him, too, playing even as he had played with Rosky! And
+Toppy knew that, like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too, to
+be crushed--to be marked as an inferior, to be made to acknowledge
+Reivers as his master.
+
+Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy's eyes and had, with
+his cold smile of complete confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge.
+The substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers' pet troublemaker, for an
+effective workman was a definite move toward Toppy's humiliation.
+
+There was nothing in Toppy's manner, however, to indicate his feelings
+as he followed the line to the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy's swagger,
+by which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for trouble, to go as
+if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely simple of mind, leaped instantly
+to the conclusion that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered more
+insolently than ever. He was in an irritable mood this morning, was Bill
+Sheedy; and as soon as the gang was out of sight of the stockade--and,
+thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight of Reivers--he
+began to vent his irritation upon his fellow-workmen.
+
+He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them, threatened them with
+his fists, kicked them carelessly. There was no finesse in Bill's
+method; he was mad and showed it. When the daylight came up the river
+sufficiently strong to begin the day's work, Bill had worked himself up
+to a proper frame of mind for his purpose. He stood still while the
+other men willingly seized their tools and barrows and tramped into the
+quarry.
+
+Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated by his manner he
+was quite oblivious of Sheedy's existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy
+with a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to go in with the
+other men. The order did not come. Toppy was busy directing the men
+where to begin their work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill
+finally was forced to call attention to himself.
+
+"----!" he growled, spitting generously. "Yah ain't goin' tuh git me tuh
+wurruk in no hole like that."
+
+"All right, Bill," said Toppy instantly. "All right."
+
+Bill was staggered. His simple mind failed utterly to comprehend that
+there might lie something behind Toppy's apparently humble manner. Bill
+could see only one thing--the straw-boss was afraid of him.
+
+"Yah ---- know it, it's all right!" he spluttered. "If it ain't I'd ----
+soon make it all right."
+
+"Sure," said Toppy, and without looking toward Bill he hurried into the
+quarry to see how the timbers were standing the strain. Bill stood
+puzzled. He had bluffed the straw-boss, sure enough; but still the thing
+wasn't entirely satisfactory. The boss didn't seem to care whether he
+worked or whether he loafed. Bill refused to be treated with such little
+consideration. He was of more importance than that.
+
+"Hey, you!" he called as Toppy emerged from the pit. "I'm going to wheel
+rock down to the dam, that's what I'm going tuh do. Going to wheel it;
+but yuh ain't goin' tuh make me go in there and dig it. See? I'm going
+to wheel rock."
+
+Now for the first time Toppy seemed to consider Bill.
+
+"What makes you think you are?" he said quietly. He was looking at his
+watch, but Bill noticed that in spite of his sore ankle and cane the
+boss had managed to move near to him in uncannily swift fashion.
+
+"You know you can't work here now," Toppy continued before Bill's thick
+wits had framed an answer. "You won't go into the quarry, so I can't use
+you."
+
+Bill stared as if bereft of all of his faculties. The boss had slipped
+his watch back into his pocket. He had turned away.
+
+"Can't use me--can't----Say! Who says I can't work here?" roared Bill,
+shaking his fists. He was standing on the plank on which the
+wheelbarrows were rolled out of the cave, blocking the way of the men
+with the first loads of the day.
+
+"Look out, Bill!" said Toppy softly, turning around. Instinctively Bill
+threw up his guard--threw it up to guard his jaw. Toppy's left drove into
+his solar plexus so hard that Bill seemed to be moulded on to the fist,
+hung there until he dropped and rolled backward on the ground.
+
+"Get along there!" commanded Toppy to the wheel-barrowmen. "The way's
+clear. Jump!"
+
+Grinning and snatching glances of ridicule at the prostrate Sheedy, they
+hurried past. They dumped their loads in the dam and came back with
+empty barrows, and still Sheedy lay there, like a dumped grain-sack, to
+one side of their path. The flat faces of the men cracked with grins as
+they looked worshipfully at Toppy.
+
+"Jump!" said he. "Get a move on, you roughnecks"
+
+And they grinned more widely in sheer delight at his rough ordering.
+
+Bill Sheedy lay for a long time as he had fallen. The blow he had
+stopped would have done for a pugilist in good condition, and Sheedy's
+midriff was soft and fat. Finally he raised his head and looked around.
+Such surprise and wobegoneness showed in his expression that the
+grinning Slavs laughed outright at him. Bill slowly came to a sitting
+posture and drew a hand across his puzzled brow while he looked dully at
+the laughing men and at Toppy. Then he remembered and he dropped his
+eyes.
+
+"Get on your way, Bill," said Toppy casually. "If you're not able to
+walk, I'll have half a dozen of the men help you. You're through here."
+
+Bill lurched unsteadily to his feet and staggered away a few steps. That
+terrific punch and the iron-calm manner of the man who had dealt it had
+scared him. His first thought was to get out of reach; his second, one
+of anger at the Bohunks who dared to laugh at him, Bill Sheedy, the
+fighting man!
+
+But the fashion in which the men laughed took the nerve out of Bill.
+They were laughing contemptuously at him; they looked down upon him;
+they were no longer afraid. And there were a dozen of them, and they
+laughed together; and Bill Sheedy knew that his days as camp bully were
+over. The straw-boss was looking at him coldly, and Bill moved farther
+away. Fifteen minutes later the straw-boss, who had apparently been
+oblivious of his presence, swung around and said abruptly:
+
+"What's the matter, Bill? Why don't you go back to Reivers?"
+
+Bill's growled reply contained several indistinct but definitely profane
+characterisations of Reivers.
+
+"I can't go back to him," Sheedy said sullenly.
+
+"Why not?" laughed Treplin. "He's your friend, isn't he? He let you keep
+the money you'd stolen, and all that."
+
+"Keep----!" growled Sheedy. "He's got that himself. Made me make him a
+present of it, or--or he'd turn me over for a little trouble I had down
+in Duluth."
+
+Toppy stiffened and looked at him carefully.
+
+"Telling the truth, Bill?"
+
+"Ask him," replied Sheedy. "He don't make no bones about it; he gets
+something on you and then he grafts on you till you're dry."
+
+Toppy stood silent while he assimulated this information. His scrutiny
+of Sheedy told him that the man was telling the truth. He felt grateful
+to Sheedy; through him he had got a new light on Reivers' character,
+light which he knew he could use later on.
+
+"Through making an ass of yourself here, Bill?" he asked briskly. Bill's
+answer was to hang his head in a way that showed how thoroughly all the
+fight was taken out of him.
+
+"All right, then; grab a wheelbarrow and get into the pit. Keep your end
+up with the other men and there'll be no hard feelings. Try to play any
+of your tricks, and it's good night for you. Now get to it, or get out."
+
+Sheedy's rush for a wheelbarrow showed how relieved he was. He had been
+standing between the devil and the deep sea--between Reivers with his
+awful displeasure and Toppy with his awful punch; and he was eager to
+find a haven.
+
+"I ain't trying any tricks," he muttered as he made for the quarry. "The
+Snow-Burner--he's the one. He copped me dough and sent me down here and
+told me to work off my mad on you."
+
+"Well, you've worked it off now, I guess," said Toppy curtly. "Dig in,
+now; you're half a dozen loads behind."
+
+Sheedy did not fill the place of the man he had supplanted, for in his
+mixed-ale condition he was unable to work a full day at a strong man's
+pace. However, he did so well that when Toppy checked up in the evening
+he found that his tally again was well over the stipulated average of a
+hundred loads of rock per hour.
+
+"Move two," he thought. "I wonder what comes next?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV--"JOKER AND DEUCES WILD"
+
+
+When Toppy went back to the shop that evening he found old Campbell
+cooking the evening meal with only his right hand in use, the left being
+wrapped in a neat bandage.
+
+"That's what comes of leaving me without a helper," grumbled the Scot as
+Toppy looked enquiringly at the injured hand. "I maun have ye back, lad;
+I will not be knocking my hands to pieces doing two men's work to please
+any man. And yet--" he cocked his head on one side and looked fondly at
+the bandage--"I dunno but what 'twas worth it. I'm an auld man, and it's
+long sin' I had a pretty lass make fuss over me."
+
+"What?" snapped Toppy.
+
+"Oh, go on with ye, lad," teased Scotty, holding the bandage up for his
+admiration. "Can not you see that I'm by nature a fav'rite with the
+ladies? Yon lass in the office sewed this bandage on my old meat hook.
+
+"'Does it hurt, Mr. Campbell?' says she. 'Not as much as something
+that's heavy on my mind, lass,' says I. 'What's that?' she says. 'Mr.
+Reivers and you, lass,' says I; and I told her as well as an old man can
+tell a lass who's little more than a child just what the Snow-Burner is.
+'I can't believe it,' says she. 'He's a gentleman.' 'More's the pity,' I
+says. 'That's what makes him dangerous.' 'Were you not afraid of him at
+first?' says I. 'Yes,' she says. 'Tell me honest, as you would your own
+father,' says I, 'are you not afraid of him now?'
+
+"With that she gave me a look like a little fawn that has smelled the
+wolf circling 'round it, but she will not answer. 'He can't be what you
+say he is,' she says, trembling. 'Lass,' says I, 'a week ago you would
+never have believed it possible that you'd ever wish aught to do with
+him. Now you walk with him and talk with him, and smile when he does.'
+And I told her of Tilly.
+
+"'It's not so,' says she. 'It can't be so. Mr. Reivers is a gentleman,
+not a brute. He's too strong and fine,' says she, 'for such conduct.'
+And the bandage being done, I was dismissed with a toss of the head.
+Aye, aye, lad; but 'twas fine to have her little fingers sewing away
+around my old hand. Yon's a fine, sweet lass; but I fear me Reivers has
+set his will to win her."
+
+Toppy made no reply. Campbell's words aroused only one emotion in him--a
+fresh flare of anger against Reivers. For it was Reivers, and his
+strength and dominance, that was responsible. Toppy already was sorry
+for the swift judgment that he had passed on the girl on Sunday, and for
+the rudeness which, in his anger, he had displayed toward her. He knew
+now the power that lay in Reivers' will, the calm, compelling fire that
+lurked in his eyes.
+
+Men quailed before those eyes and did their bidding. And a girl, a
+little girl who must naturally feel grateful toward him for her
+position, could hardly be expected to resist the Snow-Burner's
+undeniable fascinations. Why should she? Reivers was everything that
+women were drawn to in men--kinglike in his power of mind and body,
+striking in appearance, successful in whatever he sought to do.
+
+It was inevitable that the girl should fall under his spell, but the
+thought of it sent a chill up Toppy's spine as from the thought of
+something monstrous. He raged inwardly as he remembered how clearly the
+girl had let him see his own insignificance in her estimation compared
+with Reivers. She had refused to believe Campbell; Toppy knew that she
+would refuse to listen to him if he tried to warn her against Reivers.
+
+The fashion in which he slammed the supper-dishes on the table brought a
+protest from Scotty.
+
+"Dinna be so strong with the dishes, lad; they're not iron," said he.
+
+"You 'tend to your cooking," growled Toppy. "I'll set this table."
+
+Campbell paused with a spoon in midair and gaped at him in astonishment.
+He opened his mouth to speak, but the black scowl on Toppy's brow
+checked his tongue. Silently he turned to his cooking. He had seen that
+he was no longer boss in the room behind the shop.
+
+After supper Campbell brought forth a deck of cards and began to play
+solitaire. Toppy threw himself upon his bunk and lay in the darkness
+with his troublesome thoughts. An unmistakable step outside the door
+brought him to his feet, for he had an instinctive dislike to meeting
+Reivers save face to face and standing up. Reivers came in without
+speaking and shut the door behind him. He stood with his hand on the
+knob and looked over at Toppy and shook his head.
+
+"Treplin, how could you disappoint me so?" he asked mockingly. "After I
+had reposed such confidence in you, too! I'm sorely disappointed in you.
+I never looked for you to be a victim of the teachings of weak men and I
+find--ye gods! I find that you're a humanitarian!"
+
+By this and this only did Reivers indicate that he had knowledge of how
+Toppy had protected his men.
+
+Toppy looked steadily across the room at him, a grim smile on his lips.
+
+"Did Bill Sheedy call me that?" he asked drily. "Shame on him if he did;
+I didn't make him slip me the Torta boys' money as a present."
+
+Reivers' laugh rang instantly through the room.
+
+"So you've won Bill's confidences already, have you?" he said without
+the slightest trace of shame or discomfiture. "Dear old Bill! He
+actually seemed to be under the impression that he had a title to that
+money--until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin, as a man with a
+trained if not an efficient mind, is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess
+the title to ninety-eight dollars?"
+
+He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and reached into the
+cupboard for Scotty's whiskey. As he did so his eyes fell upon the cards
+which Scotty was placing upon the table, and for the first time Toppy
+saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness. Reivers stood, paused,
+for an instant, his eyes feasting upon the cards. It was only an
+instant, but it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the
+Snow-Burner's passion for play. And Toppy exulted at this chance
+discovery of the vulnerable joint in Reivers' armour; for Toppy--alas for
+his misspent youth!--was a master-warrior when a deck of cards was the
+field of battle.
+
+"It's none of my funeral, Reivers," he said carelessly, strolling over
+to the table where Campbell went on playing, apparently oblivious to the
+conversation. "I don't know anything about Sheedy. Of course, if you're
+serious, the Torta boys are the only ones in camp who've got any right
+to the money."
+
+Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself a drink. Campbell,
+with his back toward Reivers, paused with a card in his hand. Toppy
+yawned and dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell's
+game.
+
+"But that's none of my business," he said as if dropping the subject.
+"There's a chance for your black queen, Scotty."
+
+Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch whiskey, drew up a
+third chair to the table and sat down across from Toppy. The latter
+apparently was absorbed in watching Campbell's solitaire. Reivers took a
+long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and smiled pleasantly.
+
+"You turned loose an idea there, Treplin," he said. "But can you make
+your premise stand argument? Are you sure that the Torta boys are the
+ones who have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what grounds do
+you give them the exclusive title to the money?"
+
+"It's theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he did. That's all I
+know about it," said Toppy, scarcely raising his eyes from the cards.
+
+"Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?" persisted Reivers smilingly.
+"Merely because they had it in their possession! Isn't that so? You
+don't know how they came by it, but because they had it in their
+possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill Sheedy took it
+away from them. It was in his possession, so, following your line of
+logic, it was his--for a short while.
+
+"I took it from Bill. It's in my possession now. Therefore, if your
+premise is sound, the money is mine. Why, Treplin, I'm really obliged to
+you for furnishing me such a clear title to my loot. It was--ah--beginning
+to trouble my conscience." He laughed suddenly, punctuating his laughter
+with a blow of his fist on the table.
+
+"All rot, Treplin; all silly sophistry which weak men have built up to
+protect themselves from the strong! The infernal lie that because a man
+is in possession of a certain thing it is his to the exclusion of the
+rest of the world! Property-rights! I'll tell you the truth--why this
+money is mine, why I'm the one who has the real title to it. I was able
+to take it, and I am able to keep it. There's the natural law of
+property-rights, Treplin. What do you say to that?"
+
+"Fine!" laughed Toppy, throwing up his hands in surrender. "You bowl me
+over, Reivers. The money is yours; and--" he glanced at the cards "--and
+if you and I should play a little game of poker, joker and deuces wild,
+and I should take it away from you, it would be mine; and there you
+are."
+
+The words had slipped out of him, apparently without any aim; but Toppy
+saw by the sudden glance which Reivers dropped to the cards that the
+gambling-hunger in the Snow-Burner had been awakened.
+
+"Joker and deuces wild," he repeated as if fascinated. "Yes, that ought
+to help make a two-handed game fast."
+
+The whole manner of the man seemed for the moment changed. For the first
+time since Toppy had met him he seemed to be seriously interested.
+Previously, when he played with the lives and bodies of men or devilled
+their minds with his wiles, his interest had never been deeper than that
+of a man who plays to keep himself from being bored. He was the master
+in all such affairs; they could furnish him at their best but an idle
+sort of interest. But not even the Snow-Burner was master of the
+inscrutable laws of Chance. Nor was he master of himself when cards were
+flipping before his eyes. Toppy had guessed right; Reivers had a
+weakness, and it was to be "card-crazy."
+
+"Get over there on that other table with your solitaire, Campbell!" he
+ordered. He reached into Campbell's liquor-cabinet and drew out a fresh
+pack of cards, which he tossed to Toppy. "You started something, Mr.
+Humanitarian," he continued, clearing the table. "Open the deck and cut
+for deal. Then show me what you've got to stack up against this
+ninety-eight dollars." And he slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the
+table.
+
+Toppy nonchalantly reached into his pockets. Then he grinned. The two
+twenty-dollar bills which he had paid the agent back in Rail Head for
+the privilege of hiring out to Hell Camp were all the money he had with
+him. He was broke. He debated with himself a moment, then unhooked his
+costly watch from the chain and pushed it across to Reivers.
+
+"You can sell that for five hundred--if you win it," he said. "I'll play
+it even against your ninety-eight bucks. Give me forty-nine to start
+with. If you win them give me forty-nine more, and the watch is yours.
+Right?"
+
+"Right," said Reivers, keeping the watch and dividing his roll with
+Toppy. "Dollar jack-pots, table-stakes. Deal 'em up."
+
+Toppy lost ten dollars on the first hand almost before he realised that
+the game had begun. He called Reivers' bet and had three fours and
+nothing else in his hand. Reivers had two of the wild deuces and a king.
+Toppy shook his head, like a pugilist clearing his wits after a
+knockdown. Why had he called? He knew his three fours weren't good. His
+card-sense had told him so. He had called against his judgment. Why?
+
+Suddenly, like something tangible pressing against his brain, he felt
+Reivers' will thrusting itself against his. Then he knew. That was why
+he had called. Reivers had willed that he do so, and, catching him off
+his guard, had had his way.
+
+"Good work!" said Toppy, passing the cards. He was himself again; his
+wits had cleared. He allowed Reivers to take the next three pots in
+succession without a bet. Reivers looked at him puzzled. The fourth pot
+Toppy opened for five dollars and Reivers promptly raised him ten. After
+the draw Toppy bet a dollar, and Reivers again raised it to ten more.
+Toppy called. Reivers, caught bluffing without a single pair, stared as
+Toppy laid down his hand and revealed nothing but his original openers,
+a pair of aces. A frown passed over Reivers' face. He peered sharply at
+Toppy from beneath his overhanging brows, but Toppy was raking in the
+pot as casually as if such play with a pair of aces was part of his
+system.
+
+"Good work!" said Reivers, and gathered the cards to him with a jerk.
+
+Half a dozen hands later, on Reivers' deal, Toppy picked up his hand and
+saw four kings.
+
+"I'll pass," said he.
+
+"I open for five," said Reivers.
+
+"Take the money," laughed Toppy carelessly throwing his hand into the
+discard. For an instant Reivers' eyes searched him with a look of
+surprise. The glance was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had
+suspected was true.
+
+"So he's dealing 'em as he wants 'em!" thought Toppy. "All right. He's
+brought it on himself."
+
+An hour later Reivers arose from the table with a smile. The money had
+changed hands. Toppy was snapping his watch back on its chain, and
+stuffing the bills into his pocket.
+
+"Your money now, Treplin," laughed Reivers. "Until somebody takes it
+away from you."
+
+But there was a new note in his laughter. He had been beaten, and his
+irritation showed in his laughter and in the manner in which, after he
+had taken another big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway as he
+made to leave.
+
+"Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you have!" he said
+laughingly. "Too bad your luck ends there, isn't it? What's that
+paraphrase of the old saw? 'Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.' Good
+night, Treplin."
+
+He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he has a joke on the other
+fellow.
+
+"What did he mean by that?" asked Campbell, puzzled.
+
+"I don't know," said Toppy. But he knew now that Tilly had told Reivers
+of his talk with Miss Pearson the first evening in camp, and that
+Reivers had saved it up against him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV--THE WAY OF THE SNOW-BURNER
+
+
+In the morning, before the time for beginning the day's work, Toppy went
+to the stockade; and with one of his English-speaking Slavs acting an
+interpreter hunted up the Torta brothers and returned to them the stolen
+money which he had won from Reivers. He did not consider it necessary to
+go into the full details of how the money came to be in his possession,
+or attempt to explain the prejudice of his kind against keeping stolen
+goods.
+
+"Just tell them that Sheedy gave up the money, and that it's theirs
+again; and they'd better hide it in their shoes so they won't lose it,"
+he directed the interpreter.
+
+Whereat the latter, a garrulous young man who had been telling the camp
+all about the wonderful new "bahss" in the quarry--a "bahss" who saved
+men's lives--whenever he could get any one to listen, broke forth into a
+wonderful tale of how the money came to be returned, and of the
+wonderful "bahss" that stood before them, whom they should all take off
+their caps to and worship.
+
+For this was no ordinary man, this "bahss." No, he was far above all
+other men. It was an honour to work under him. For instance, as to this
+money: the "bahss" had heard how the red-haired one--Sheedy--had stolen,
+how he oppressed many poor men and broke the noses of those who dared to
+stand up against him.
+
+The "bahss" had the interests of poor men at heart. What had he done? He
+had struck the red-haired one such a mighty blow in the stomach that the
+red-haired one had flown high in the air, and alighting on the ground
+had been moved by the fear of death and disgorged the stolen money that
+his conscience might be easy.
+
+The story of how Toppy had propped up the roof of the stone quarry, and
+saved the limbs and possibly lives of his workmen; how he had driven the
+shotgun guard away, and how he had smitten Sheedy and laid him low
+before all men, had circulated through the camp by this time. Everybody
+knew that the new straw-boss, though fully as big and strong as the
+Snow-Burner himself, was a man who considered the men under him as
+something more than cattle and treated them accordingly. True, he drove
+men hard; but they went willingly for him, whereas under the Snow-Burner
+they hurried merely because of the chill fear that his eyes drove into
+their hearts. In short, Toppy was just such a boss as all men wished to
+work under--strong but just, firm but not inhuman.
+
+Even Sheedy was loyal to him.
+
+"He laid me out, all right," he grumbled to a group of "white men,"
+"but, give him credit for it, he give me a chanct to get up me guard.
+There won't be any breaking yer bones when yuh ain't lookin' from him.
+And he wouldn't graft on yuh, either. He's right. That other ----, he--he
+ain't human."
+
+The fact that he had been humane enough, and daring enough, to prop up
+the roof of the quarry had no effect on the "white men" toward
+developing a respect for Toppy. They despised the Slavs too thoroughly
+to be conscious of any brotherhood with them. But that he could put Bill
+Sheedy away with a single punch, that he could warn Bill to put up his
+guard and then knock him out with one blow, that was something to wring
+respect even from that hard-bitten crew.
+
+The Snow-Burner never had done anything like that. He had laid low the
+biggest men in camp, but it was usually with a kick or with a blow that
+was entirely unexpected. The Snow-Burner never warned any body. He
+smiled, threw them off their guard, then smote like a flash of
+lightning. He had whipped half a dozen men at once in a stand-up fight,
+but they had been poor Bohunks, fools who couldn't fight unless they had
+knives in their hands. But to tell a seasoned bruiser like Bill, the
+best man with his fists in camp, to put up his hands and then beat him
+to the knockout punch--that was something that not even the Snow-Burner
+had attempted to do.
+
+That was taking a chance, that was; and the Snow-Burner never took
+chances. That was why these cruel-fierce "white men," though they
+admired and applauded him for his dominance and his ruthlessness toward
+the Slavs, hated Reivers with a hatred that sprang from the Northern
+man's instinctive liking for fair play in a fight. They began naturally
+to compare him with Toppy, who had played fair and yet won. And,
+naturally, because such were the standards they lived and died by, they
+began to predict that some day the Snow-Burner and Toppy must fight, and
+they hoped that they might be there to see the battle.
+
+So Toppy, this morning, as he came to the stockade, was in the position
+of something of a hero to most of the rough men who slouched past him in
+the gloom to their day's work. He had felt it before, this hero-worship,
+and he recognised it again. Though the surroundings were vastly
+different and the men about him of a strange breeding, the sense of it
+was much the same as that he had known at school when, a sweater thrown
+across his huge shoulders, he had ploughed his way through the groups of
+worshipping undergrads on to the gridiron. It was much the same here.
+Men looked up to him. They nudged one another as they passed, lowered
+their voices when he was near, studied him appraisingly. Toppy had felt
+it before, too often to be mistaken; and the youth in his veins
+responded warmly. The respect of these men was a harder thing to win
+than the other. He thought of how he had arrived in camp, shaky from
+Harvey Duncombe's champagne, with no purpose in life, no standing among
+men who were doing men's work. Grimly also he thought of how Miss
+Pearson, that first evening, had called him a "nice boy." Would she call
+him that now, he wondered, if she could see how these rough, tired men
+looked up to him? Would Reivers treat him as a thing to experiment with
+after this?
+
+Thus it was a considerably elated Toppy, though not a big-headed one,
+who led his men out of the stockade, to the quarry--to the blow that
+Reivers had waiting for him there. His first hint that something was
+wrong was when the foremost men, whistling and tool-laden, made for the
+pit in the first grey light of day and paused with exclamations and
+curses at its very mouth. Others crowded around them. They looked
+within. Then, with fallen jaws, they turned and looked to the "bahss"
+for an explanation, for help.
+
+Toppy shouldered his way through the press and stepped inside. Then he
+saw what had halted his men and made their faces turn white. To the last
+stick the shoring-timbers had been removed from the pit, and the roof,
+threatening and sharp-edged, hung ready to drop on the workmen below, as
+it had before Toppy had wrought a change.
+
+The daylight came creeping up the river and a wind began to blow. So
+still was it there before the pit-mouth that Toppy was conscious of
+these things as he stepped outside. The men were standing about with
+their wheelbarrows and tools in their hands. They looked to him. His was
+the mind and will to determine what they should do. They depended upon
+him; they trusted him; they would obey his word confidently.
+
+Toppy felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He wanted to take
+off his cap, to bare his head to the chill morning wind, to draw his
+hand across his eyes, to do something to ease himself and gather his
+wits. He did none of these things. The instinct of leadership arose
+strong within him. He could not show these men who looked up to him as
+their unquestioned leader that he had been dealt a blow that had taken
+the mastery from him.
+
+For Toppy, in that agonised second when he glanced up at the unsupported
+roof and knew what those loose rocks meant to any men working beneath,
+realised that he could not drive his men in there to certain injury for
+many, possibly death for some. It wasn't in him. He wasn't bred that
+way. The unfeeling brute had been removed from his big body and spirit
+by generations of men and women who had played fair with inferiors, and
+by a lifetime of training and education.
+
+He understood plainly the significance of the thing. Reivers had done
+it; no one else would have dared. He had lifted Toppy up to a tiny
+elevation above the other men in camp; now he was knocking him down. It
+was another way for Reivers to show his mastery. The men who had begun
+to look up to Toppy would now see how easily the Snow-Burner could show
+himself his superior. Miss Pearson would hear of it. He would appear in
+the light of a "nice boy" whom the Snow-Burner had played with.
+
+These thoughts ran through Toppy's mind as he stood outside the pit,
+with his white-faced men looking up to him, and groped for a way out of
+his dilemma. Within he was sickened with the sense of a catastrophe;
+outside he remained calm and confident to the eye. He stepped farther
+out, to where he could see the end of the dam where he had secured the
+props for the roof. It was as he had expected; the big pile of timbers
+that had lain there was gone to the last stick. He turned slowly back,
+and then in the grey light of coming day he looked into the playfully
+smiling face of Reivers, who had emerged, it seemed, from nowhere.
+
+"Looking for your humanitarian props, Treplin?" laughed the Snow-Burner.
+"Oh, they're gone; they're valuable; they served a purpose which nothing
+else would fill--quite so conveniently. I used them for a corduroy road
+in the swamp. Between men and timbers, Treplin, always save your
+timbers." His manner changed like a flash to one hurried and
+business-like. "What're you waiting for?" he snarled. "Why don't you get
+'em in there? Mean to say you're wasting company money because one of
+these cattle might get a broken back?"
+
+They looked each other full in the eyes, but Toppy knew that for the
+time being Reivers had the whiphand.
+
+"I mean to say just that," he said evenly. "I'm not sending any men in
+there until I get that roof propped up again."
+
+"Bah!" Reivers' disgust was genuine. "I thought you were a man; I find
+you're a suit of clothes full of emotions, like all the rest!"
+
+He seemed to drive away his anger by sheer will-force and bring the
+cold, sneering smile back to his lips.
+
+"So we're up against a situation that's too strong for us, are we, Mr.
+Humanitarian?" he laughed. "In spite of our developed intelligence, we
+lay down cold in the face of a little proposition like this! Good-bye to
+our dreams of learning how to handle men! It isn't in us to do it; we're
+a weak sister."
+
+His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all his changes. Toppy and
+his aspirations as a leader--that was another incident of the day's work
+that was over and done with.
+
+"Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin," he said quietly. "You're not
+responsible for your limitations. Scotty says you make a pretty fair
+helper. Be consoled. He's waiting for you."
+
+He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with the hot blood rushing in
+his throat, but helpless as he was, swung away from the pit without a
+word. As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun guard had appeared
+and taken his position on the little rise where his gun bore slantwise
+on the huddled men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of sight of
+the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples throbbing with rage, but
+the cool section of his mind urged him away from the pit in silence.
+
+Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle. It was the ankle
+that made him accept without return the shame which Reivers had put upon
+him. The canny sense within him continued to whisper that until the
+ankle was sound he must bide his time. Reivers and he were too nearly a
+pair to give him the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance
+at even the slightest disadvantage.
+
+Choking back as well as he could the anger that welled up within him, he
+made his way swiftly to the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the
+anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy tread behind him.
+
+"The Snow-Burner promised he'd send you here, and----Losh, mon!" he gasped
+as he turned around and saw Toppy's face. "What's come o'er ye? You look
+like you're ripe for murder."
+
+"There'll probably be murder done in this camp before the day's over,
+but I won't do it," replied Toppy.
+
+As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting work he snapped out
+the story of the situation at the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his
+hammer, grew grim of lips and eyes as he listened.
+
+"Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you had ye lost at poker
+last night," he said slowly. "He's taking revenge. But they will put out
+his light for him. Human flesh and blood won't stand it. The Snow-Burner
+goes too far. He'll----Hark! Good Heavens! Hear that!"
+
+For a moment they stood near the open doorway of the shop staring at one
+another in horrified, mute questioning. The crisp stillness of the
+morning rang and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The sound came
+from the direction of the quarry. Across the street they heard the door
+of the office-building open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her
+light hair flying about her head, came running like a deer to the door
+of the shop.
+
+"Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!" she called tremblingly, peering inside.
+Then she saw Toppy.
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. She started back a little. There were surprise and
+relief in her exclamation, in her eyes, in her movement.
+
+"I was afraid--I thought maybe----" She drew away from the door in
+confusion. "I only wanted to know--to know--what that noise was."
+
+But Toppy had stepped outside the shop and followed closely after her.
+
+"What did you think it was, Miss Pearson?" he asked. "What were you
+afraid of when you heard that shot? That something had happened between
+Reivers and myself?"
+
+"I--I meant to warn you," she said, greatly flustered. "Tilly told me all
+about--a lot of things last night. She told me that she had told Reivers
+all she heard you say to me that first night here, and that he--Mr.
+Reivers, she said, was your enemy, and that he would--would surely hurt
+you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I didn't want to see you get hurt, because I felt it was because of me
+that you came here. I--I don't want any one hurt because of me."
+
+"That's all?" he asked.
+
+She looked surprised.
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+Toppy nodded curtly.
+
+"Then Tilly told you that Mr. Reivers had a habit of hurting people?"
+
+At this the red in her cheeks rose to a flush. Her blue eyes looked at
+him waveringly, then dropped to the ground.
+
+"It isn't true! It can't be true!" she stammered.
+
+"Did Tilly tell you--about herself?" he persisted mercilessly.
+
+The next instant he wished the words unsaid, for she shrank as if he had
+struck her. She looked very small just then. Her proud, self-reliant
+bearing was gone. She was very much all alone.
+
+"Yes." The word was scarcely more than a whisper and she did not look
+up. "But it--it can not be so; I know it can not."
+
+Toppy was no student of feminine psychology, but he saw plainly that
+just then she was a woman who did not wish to believe, therefore would
+not believe, anything ill of the man who had fascinated her. He saw that
+Reivers had fascinated her; that in spite of herself she was drawn
+toward him, dominated by him. Her mind told her that what she had heard
+of the man was true, but her heart refused to let her believe. Toppy saw
+that she was very unhappy and troubled, and unselfishly he forgot
+himself and his enmity toward Reivers in a desire to help her.
+
+"Miss Pearson!--Miss Pearson!" he cried eagerly. "Is there anything I can
+do for you--anything in the world?"
+
+"Yes," she said slowly. "Tell me that it isn't so--what Mr. Campbell and
+Tilly have said about Mr. Reivers."
+
+"I----" He was about to say that he could do nothing of the sort, but
+something made him halt. "Has Reivers broken his word to you--about
+leaving you alone?"
+
+"No, no! He's--he's left me alone. He's scarcely spoken to me half a
+dozen times."
+
+Toppy looked down at her for several seconds.
+
+"But you've begun to care for Reivers, haven't you?" he said.
+
+The girl looked up at him uncertainly.
+
+"I don't know. Oh, I don't know! I don't seem to have any will of my own
+toward him. I seem to see him as a different man. I know I shouldn't;
+but I can't help it, I can help it! He--he looks at me, and I feel as
+if--as if--" her voice died down to a horrified whisper--"I were nothing,
+and his wishes were the only things in the world."
+
+Toppy bowed his head.
+
+"Then I guess there's nothing for me to say."
+
+"Don't!" she cried, stretching out her hand to restrain him as he turned
+away. "Don't leave me--like that. You're so rude to me lately. I feel so
+terribly alone when you--aren't nice to me."
+
+"What difference can I make?" he said bitterly. "I'm not Reivers."
+
+She looked up at him again.
+
+"Oh!" she cried suddenly. "Won't you help me, Mr. Treplin? Can't you
+help me?"
+
+"Help you?" gasped Toppy. "May I? Can I? What can I do?"
+
+He leaned toward her eagerly.
+
+"What can I do" he repeated.
+
+"Oh, I don't know!" she murmured in anguish. "But if you--if you leave
+me--Oh! What was that?"
+
+From the direction of the quarry had come a great scream of terror, as
+if many men suddenly had cried out in fear of their lives. Then, almost
+ere the echoes had died away, came another sound, of more sinister
+significance to Toppy. There was a sudden low rumble; the earth under
+their feet trembled; then the noise of a crash and a thud. Then it was
+still again.
+
+A chill seemed to pass over the entire camp. Men began running toward
+the quarry with swift steps, their faces showing that they dreaded what
+they expected to see. Toppy and Campbell looked silently at one another.
+
+"Go into the office," he said quietly to the girl. "Come on, Scotty;
+that roof's caved in." And without another word they ran swiftly toward
+the quarry. As they reached the river-bank they heard Reivers' voice
+quietly issuing orders.
+
+"You guards pick those two fellows up and carry them to their bunks. You
+scum that's left, pick up your tools and dig into that fallen rock.
+Hustle now! Get right back to work!"
+
+The first thing that Toppy saw as he turned the shoulder of the ledge
+was that two of the older Slavs were lying groaning on the ground to one
+side of where the pit mouth had been. Then he saw what was left of the
+pit. The entire side of the ledge had caved down, and where the pit had
+been was only a jumbled pile of jagged rock. Reivers stood in his old
+position before the pile. The hawk-nosed shotgun guard stood up on the
+little rise, his weapon ready. The remaining workmen were huddled
+together before the pile of fallen stone. The terror in their faces was
+unspeakable. They were like lost, driven cattle facing the butcher's
+hammer.
+
+"Grab those tools there! Get at it! The rock's right in front of you
+now! Get busy!"
+
+Reivers' voice in no way admitted that anything startling had occurred.
+He glared at the cowering men, and in terror they began hastily to
+resume their interrupted work, filling their wheelbarrows from the pile
+of stone before them. Reivers turned toward Toppy who had bent over the
+injured men. "Hello, Dr. Treplin," he laughed lightly. "A couple of jobs
+there for you to experiment on. Get 'em out of here--to their bunks;
+they're in the way. Patch 'em up if you can. If you can't they're not
+much loss, anyhow. They're rather older than I like 'em."
+
+The last words came carelessly over his shoulder as he turned back
+toward the men who were toiling at the rock. A string of curses rolled
+coldly from his lips. They leaped to obey him. He smiled contemptuously.
+
+Toppy was relieved to see that the two men on the ground were apparently
+not fatally hurt. With the aid of Campbell and two guards who had run up
+he hurried to have the men placed in their bunks in the stockade. One of
+the guards produced a surgeon's kit. Toppy rolled up his sleeves. It
+wasn't as bad as he had feared it would be, apparently; only two
+injured, where he had looked for some surely to be killed. One of the
+men was growing faint from loss of blood from a wound in his right leg.
+Toppy, turning his attention to him first, swiftly slit open the
+trousers-leg and bared the injured limb.
+
+"What--what the devil?" he cried aghast. The calf of the man's leg was
+half torn away, and from knee to ankle the flesh was sprinkled with
+buckshot-holes.
+
+"They shot you?" he asked as he fashioned a tourniquet.
+
+"Yes, bahass. Snow-Burner say, 'Get t' 'ell in there.' Rocks fall; we no
+go in. Snow-Burner hold up hand. Man with gun shoot. I fall. Other men
+go in. Pretty soon rocks fall. Other men come out. He shoot me. I no do
+anything; he shoot me."
+
+Toppy choked back the curse that rose to his lips, dressed the man's
+wound to the best of his slight ability, and turned to the other, who
+had been caught in the cave-in of the quarry-roof. His right leg and arm
+were broken, and the side was crushed in a way that suggested broken
+ribs. Toppy filled a hypodermic syringe and went to work to make the two
+as comfortable as he knew how. That was all he could pretend to do. Yet
+when he left the stockade it was with a feeling of relief that he looked
+back over the morning. The worst had happened; the danger to the men was
+over; and, so far as Toppy knew, the consequences were represented in
+the two men whom he had treated and who, so far as he could see, were
+sure to live. It hadn't turned out as badly as he was afraid it would.
+
+As he passed the carpenter-shop he saw the "wood-butcher" sawing two
+boards to make a cover for a long, narrow box. Toppy looked at him idly,
+trying to think of what such a box could be used for around the camp. It
+was too narrow for its length to be of ordinary use as a box.
+
+"What are you making there?" asked Toppy carelessly.
+
+The "wood-butcher" looked up from his sawing.
+
+"Didn't you ever see a logging-camp coffin?" he asked. "We always keep a
+few ready. This one is for that Bohunk that's down there under the
+rocks."
+
+"Under the rocks!" cried Toppy. "You don't mean to say there was anybody
+under that cave-in!"
+
+"Is yet," was the laconic reply. "One of 'em was caught 'way inside.
+Whole roof on top of him. Won't find him till the pit's emptied."
+
+Toppy struggled a moment to speak quietly.
+
+"Which one was it, do you know?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, it was that old brown-complected fellow," said the carpenter. "That
+old Bohunk guy with the big rings in his ears."
+
+Reivers came to the shop at his customary time in the evening, nothing
+in his manner containing a hint that anything unusual had happened
+during the day. He found a solemn and silent pair, for Campbell had
+sought relief from the day's tragedy in his customary manner and sat in
+the light of the student-lamp steadily reading his Bible, while Toppy,
+in a dark corner, sat with his great shoulders hunched forward, his
+folded hands before him, and stared at the floor. Reivers paused in the
+doorway, his cold smile broadening as he surveyed the pair.
+
+"Poker to-night--doctor?" he said softly, and the slur in his tones was
+like blasphemy toward all that men hold sacred.
+
+"No, by ----, no!" growled Toppy.
+
+Laughing lightly, Reivers closed the door and came across the room.
+
+"What? Aren't you going to give me my revenge--doctor?" The manner in
+which he accented "doctor" was worse than an open insult.
+
+Old Campbell peered over his thick glasses.
+
+"The sword of judgment is sharpening for you, Mr. Reivers," he said
+solemnly. "You ha' this day sealed your own doom. A life for a life; and
+you have taken a life to-day unnecessarily. It is the holy law; you will
+pay. It is so written."
+
+"Yes, yes, yes!" laughed Reivers in great amusement. "But you've said
+that so many times before in just that same way, Scotty. Can't you
+evolve a new idea? Or at least sing it in a different key?"
+
+The old Scot looked at him without wavering or changing his expression.
+
+"You are the smartest man I have ever known, Mr. Reivers, and the
+domdest fool," he said in the same tone. "Do you fancy yourself more
+than mortal? Losh, man! A knife in the bowels, or a bullet or ax in the
+head will as readily make you a bit of poor clay as you've this day made
+yon poor old Bohunk."
+
+Reivers listened courteously to the end, waiting even a moment to be
+sure that Campbell had had his say.
+
+"And you--doctor?" he said turning to Toppy. "What melancholy thoughts
+have you to utter?"
+
+Toppy said nothing.
+
+"Oh, come, Treplin!" said Reivers lightly. "Surely you're not letting a
+little thing like that quarry-incident give you a bad evening? Where's
+your philosophy, man? Consider the thing intelligently instead of
+sentimentally. There was so much rock to go into that dam in a day--and
+incidentally to-day finished the job. That was a useful, necessary work.
+
+"For that old man to continue in this life was not useful or necessary.
+He was far down in the order of human development; centuries below you
+and me. Do you think it made the slightest difference whether he
+returned to the old cosmic mud whence he came, and from which he had not
+come far, in to-day's little cave-in, or in a dirty bed, say ten years
+from now?
+
+"He accomplished a tiny speck of useful work, through my direction. He
+has gone, as the wood will soon be gone that is heating that stove.
+There was no spirit there; only a body that has ceased to stand upright.
+And you grow moody over it! Well, well! I'm more and more disappointed
+in you--doctor."
+
+Toppy said nothing. He was biding his time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI--THE SCREWS TIGHTEN
+
+
+That night came the heavy snow for which the loggers had been waiting,
+and a rush of activity followed in Hell Camp. The logs which had lain in
+the woods for want of sleighing now were accessible. Following the snow
+came hard, freezing nights, and the main ice-roads which Reivers had
+driven into the timber for miles became solid beds of ice over which a
+team could haul log loads to the extent of a carload weight. It was
+ideal logging-weather, and the big camp began to hum.
+
+The mastery of Reivers once more showed itself in the way in which he
+drove his great crew at top speed and beyond. The feeling against him on
+the part of the men had risen to silent, tight-lipped heat as the news
+went around of how the old Magyar with the ear-rings had met his death.
+Each man in camp knew that he might have been in the old man's shoes;
+each knew that Reivers' anger might fall on him next. In the total of a
+hundred and fifty men in camp there was probably not one who did not
+curse Reivers and rage against his rule, and there were few who, if the
+opportunity had offered, would not cheerfully have taken his life.
+
+The feeling against him had unified itself. Before, the men had been
+split into various groups on the subject of the boss. They remained
+divided now, but on one thing they were unanimous: the Snow-Burner had
+gone too far to bear. Men sat on the bunk-edges in the stockade and
+cursed as they thought of the boss and the shotgun guards that rendered
+them helpless. Reivers permitted no firearms of any kind in camp save
+those that were carried by his gunmen.
+
+The gunmen when not on guard kept to their quarters, in the building
+just outside of the stockade gate, where Reivers also lived. When armed,
+they were ordered to permit no man to approach nearer than ten feet to
+them--this to prevent a possible rushing and wresting the weapons from
+their hands. So long as the guards were there in possession of their
+shotguns the men knew that they were helpless. Driven to desperation
+now, they prayed for the chance to get those guns into their own hands.
+After that they promised themselves that the score of brutality would be
+made even.
+
+Then came the time for rush work, and under the lash of Reivers' will
+the outraged men, carried off their feet, were driven with a ferocity
+that told how completely Reivers ignored the spirit of revolt which he
+knew was fomenting against him. He quit playing with them, as he
+expressed it; he began to drive.
+
+Long before daylight began to grey the sky above the eastern timber-line
+the men were out at their posts, waiting for sufficient light to begin
+the day's work. Once the work began it went ahead with a fury that
+seemed to carry all men with it. Reivers was everywhere that a man dared
+to pause for a moment to shirk his job. He used his hands now, for a
+broken leg or rib laid a man up, and he had use for the present for
+every man he could muster. He scarcely looked at the men he hit,
+breaking their faces with a sudden, treacherous blow, cursing them
+coldly until, despite their injuries, they leaped at their work, then
+whirling away to fall upon some other luckless one elsewhere.
+
+He was a fury, a merciless elemental force, with no consideration for
+the strength and endurance of men; sparing no one any more than he
+spared himself, and rushing his whole force along at top speed by sheer
+power of the spirit of leadership that possessed him. Men ceased for the
+time being to growl and pray that the Snow-Burner would get his just
+due. They had no thought nor energies for anything but keeping pace in
+the whirlwind rush of work through which the Snow-Burner drove them.
+
+In the blacksmith-shop the same condition prevailed as elsewhere in the
+camp. The extra hurry of the work in the timber meant extra accidents,
+which meant breakages. There were chain-links to be forged and fitted to
+broken chains; sharp two-inch calks to be driven into the horses' shoes,
+peaveys and cant-hooks to be repaired. Besides the regular
+blacksmith-work of the camp, which was quite sufficient to keep Campbell
+and one helper comfortably employed, there was now added each day a bulk
+of extra work due to the strain under which men, horses and tools were
+working.
+
+Old Campbell, grimly resolute that Reivers should have no excuse to fall
+foul of him, drove himself and his helper at a speed second only to that
+with which he had so roughly greeted Toppy to the rough world of bodily
+labour. But the Toppy who now hammered and toiled at Campbell's side was
+a different man from the champagne-softened youth who had come into camp
+a little while before. The puffiness was gone from under his eyes, the
+looseness from his lips and the fat from around the middle. Through his
+veins the blood now surged with no taint of cumbering poison; his
+tissues tingled with life and healthiness.
+
+Day by day he did his share and more in the shop-work, and instead of
+the old feeling of fatigue, which before had followed any prolonged
+exertion, felt his muscles spring with hardness and new life at each
+demand made upon them. The old joy of a strong man in his strength came
+back in him. Stripped to the waist he stretched himself and filled his
+great lungs with deep drafts, his arms like beams stretched out and
+above his head. Under the clean skin, rosy and moist from exertion, the
+muscles bunched and relaxed, tautened instantly to iron hardness or
+rippled softly as they were called upon, in the perfect co-ordination
+which results in great athletes. Old Campbell, similarly stripped,
+stared at the marvel of a giant's perfect torso, beside which his own
+work-wrought body was ugly in its unequal development.
+
+"Losh, man! But you're full grown!" he growled in admiration. "I've seen
+but one man who could strip anywhere near to you."
+
+"Who was he?" asked Toppy.
+
+"The Snow-Burner."
+
+Day by day Toppy hammered and laboured at Campbell's side, holding his
+end up against the grim old smith, and day by day he felt his muscles
+growing toward that iron condition in which there is no tiring.
+Presently, to Scotty's vexation, he was doing more than his share,
+ending the day with a laugh and waking up in the morning as fresh as if
+he had not taxed his energies the day before.
+
+At first he continued to favour his injured ankle, lest a sudden strain
+delay its recovery. Each night he massaged and bandaged it
+scientifically. Later on, when he felt that it was stronger, he began to
+exercise it, slowly raising and lowering himself on the balls of his
+feet. In a couple of weeks the old spring and strength had largely come
+back, and Campbell snorted in disgust at the antics indulged in by his
+helper when the day's work was done.
+
+"Skipping a rope one, twa hundred times! What brand o' silliness do ye
+call that?" he grumbled. "Ha' ye nothing useful to do wi' them long legs
+of yourn, that you have to make a jumping-jack out o' yourself?"
+
+At which Toppy smiled grimly and continued his training.
+
+The rush of work had its compensations. Reivers, driving his force like
+mad, had no time to waste either in bantering Toppy and Campbell in the
+evening or in paying attention to Miss Pearson. All the power that was
+in the Snow-Burner was concentrated upon the problem of getting out
+every stick of timber possible while the favourable weather continued.
+He spent most of his time in the timber up-river where the heaviest
+logging was going on.
+
+By day he raged in the thick of the men with only one thought or aim--to
+get out the logs as fast as human and horse-power could do it. At night
+the road-crews, repairing with pick and shovel and sprinkling-tanks the
+wear and tear of the day's hauling, worked under Reivers' compelling
+eyes. All night long the sprinkling-tanks went up and down the
+ice-coated roads, and the drivers, freezing on the seats, were afraid to
+stop or nod, not knowing when the Snow-Burner might step out from the
+shadows and catch them in the act.
+
+The number of accidents, always too plentiful in logging-camps,
+multiplied, but Reivers permitted nothing short of broken bones to send
+a man to his bunk. Toppy, besides his work in the shop, cared as best he
+could for the disabled. Reivers had no time to waste that way now. The
+two men hurt at the quarry were recovering rapidly. One day a tall, lean
+"white man," a Yankee top-loader, came hobbling out of the woods with
+his foot dangling at the ankle, and mumbling curses through a smashed
+jaw.
+
+"How did you get this?" asked Toppy, as he dressed the cruelly crushed
+foot.
+
+"Pinched between two logs," mumbled the man. "They let one come down the
+skids when I wasn't lookin'. No fault of mine; I didn't have time to
+jump. And then, when I'm standin' there leanin' against a tree, that
+devil Reivers comes up and hands me this." He pointed to his cracked
+jaw. "He'll teach me to get myself hurt, he says. ----! That ain't no man;
+he's a devil! By ----! I know what I'd ruther have than the wages comin'
+to me, and that's a rifle with one good cattridge in it and that ----
+standin' afore me."
+
+Yet that evening, when Reivers came to the top-loader's bunk and
+demanded how long he expected to lie there eating his head off, the man
+cringed and whimpered that he would be back on the job as soon as his
+foot was fit to stand on. In Reivers' presence the men were afraid to
+call their thoughts their own, but behind his back the mumblings and
+grumblings of hatred were growing to a volume which inevitably soon must
+break out in the hell-yelp of a mob ripe for murder.
+
+Reivers knew it better than any man in camp. To indicate how it affected
+him he turned the screws on tighter than ever. Once, at least, "they had
+him dead," as they admitted, when he stood ankle-deep in the river with
+the saw-logs thundering over the rollways to the brink of the bluff
+above his head. One cunning twist of a peavey would have sent a dozen
+logs tumbling over the brink on his head. Reivers sensed his danger and
+looked up. He smiled. Then he turned and deliberately stood with his
+back to the men. And no man dared to give his peavey that one cunning
+twist.
+
+During these strenuous days Toppy tried in vain to muster up sufficient
+courage to reopen the conversation with Miss Pearson which had been so
+suddenly interrupted by the cave-in at the quarry. He saw her every day.
+She had changed greatly from the high-spirited, self-reliant girl who
+had stood on the steps of the hotel back at Rail Head and told the whole
+world by her manner that she was accustomed and able to take care of
+herself. A stronger will than hers had entered her scheme of life.
+
+Although she knew now that Reivers had tricked her into coming to Hell
+Camp because he was confident of winning her, the knowledge made no
+difference. The will of the man dominated and fascinated her. She feared
+him, yet she was drawn toward him despite her struggles. She fought hard
+against the inclination to yield to the stronger will, to let her
+feelings make her his willing slave, as she knew he wished. The pain of
+the struggle shone in her eyes. Her cheeks lost their bloom; there were
+lines about the little mouth.
+
+Toppy saw it, but an unwonted shyness had come upon him. He could no
+longer speak to her with the frank friendliness of their previous
+conversations. Something which he could not place had, he felt, set them
+apart.
+
+Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the fascinations which Reivers had
+for her. Reivers was his enemy. They had been enemies from the moment
+when they first had measured each other eye to eye. He felt that he had
+one aim in life now, and one only; that was to prove to himself and to
+Reivers that Reivers was not his master.
+
+Beyond that he had no plans. He knew that this meant a grapple which
+must end with one of them broken and helpless. The unfortunate one might
+be himself. In that case there would be no need to think of the future,
+and it would be just as well not to have spoken any more with the girl.
+
+It might be Reivers. Then he would be guilty in her eyes of having
+injured the man for whom the girl now obviously had feelings which Toppy
+could construe in but one way. She cared for Reivers, in spite of
+herself; and she would not be inclined to friendliness toward the man
+who had conquered him, if conquered he should be.
+
+The more Toppy thought it over the less enviable, to his notion, became
+his standing with the girl. He ended by resolutely determining to put
+her out of his thoughts. After all, he was no girl's man. He had no
+business trying to be. For the present he saw one task laid out before
+him as inevitable as a revealed fate--to prove himself with Reivers, to
+get to grips with the cold-blooded master-man who had made him feel,
+with every man in camp, that the place veritably was a Hell Camp.
+
+Reivers' brutal dominance lay like a tangible weight upon Toppy's
+spirit. He longed for only one thing--for the opportunity to stand up eye
+to eye with him and learn who was the better man. Beyond that he did not
+see, nor care. He had given up any thought that the girl might ever care
+for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII--TILLY'S WARNING
+
+
+November passed, and the first half of December. The shortest days of
+the year were approaching, and still the cold, crisp weather, ideal for
+logging, continued without a break. Hell Camp continued to hum with its
+abnormal activity. A thaw which would spoil the sleighing and ice-roads
+for the time being was long over-due. With the coming of the thaw would
+come a temporary lull in the work of the camp.
+
+The men prayed for the thaw; Reivers asked that the cold weather
+continue. It had continued now longer than he had expected or hoped, and
+the output of the camp already was double that of what would have been
+successful logging at that season. But Reivers was not satisfied. The
+record that he was setting served only to spur his ambition to
+desperation.
+
+The longer the cold spell hung on the harder he drove. Each day, as he
+looked at the low, grey sky and saw that there were no signs of a
+break-up, he turned to and set the pace a little faster than the day
+before. The madness of achievement, the passion to use his powers to
+accomplish the impossible, the characteristics which had won him the
+name of Snow-Burner, were in possession. He was doing the impossible; he
+was accomplishing what no other man could do, what all men said was
+impossible; and the feat only created a hunger to do more.
+
+The men were past grumbling now, too tired of body and too crushed of
+mind to give expression to their feelings. So long as the rush of work
+continued they were as harmless as harnessed and driven cattle,
+incapable of anything more than keeping step in the mad march that the
+Snow-Burner was leading. But all men knew that with the coming of a thaw
+and the cessation of work would come an explosion of the murderous
+hatred which Reivers' tactics had driven into the hearts of the men. Now
+and then a man, driven to a state of desperation which excluded the
+possibility of fear, stopped and rebelled. One day a young swamper, a
+gangling lad of twenty, raging and weeping, threw himself upon Reivers
+like a cat upon a bear. Reivers, with a laugh, thrust him off and kicked
+him out of the way. Another time a huge Slav sprang at him with his
+razor-edged ax up-raised, and, quailing before Reivers' calm look,
+hurled the ax away with a scream and ran blindly away into the trackless
+woods. Three days later, starving and with frozen hands and feet, he
+came stumbling up to the stockade and fell in a lump.
+
+"Feed him up," ordered Reivers, smiling. "I've got a little use for him
+when he's fixed up so he can feel. You see, Treplin," he continued to
+Toppy, who had been called to bring the man back to life, "I'm not all
+cruelty. When I want to save a man to amuse myself with I'm almost as
+much of a humanitarian as you are."
+
+He hurried on his way, but before he was out of hearing he flung back----
+
+"You remember how carefully I had Tilly nurse you, don't you--doctor?"
+
+It was only the guards that Reivers did not make enemies of. He knew
+that he had need of their loyalty. At night the "white men" sat on the
+edges of their bunks and tried to concoct feasible schemes for securing
+possession of the shotguns of the guards.
+
+On the morning of the shortest day of the year Toppy heard a scratching
+sound at the window near his bunk and sprang up. It was still pitch
+dark, long before any one should be stirring around camp save the cook
+and cookees.
+
+"Who's there?" demanded Toppy.
+
+"Me. Want talk um with you," came the low response from without. "You no
+come out. No make noise. Hear through window. You can hear um when I
+talk huh?"
+
+"Tilly!" gasped Toppy. "What's up?"
+
+"You hear um what I talk?" asked the squaw again.
+
+"Yes, yes; I can hear you. What is it?"
+
+"You like um li'l Miss Pearson, huh?" said Tilly bluntly.
+
+"What?" Toppy's heart was pounding with sudden excitement. "What--what's
+up, Tilly? There hasn't anything happened to Miss Pearson, has there?"
+
+"Uh! You like um Miss Pearson? Tell um Tilly straight or Tilly go 'way
+and no talk um more with you. You like her? Huh?"
+
+"Yes," said Toppy breathlessly, after a long pause. "Yes, I like her.
+What is it?"
+
+"You no like see um Miss Pearson get hurt?"
+
+"No, no; of course not. Who's going to hurt her?"
+
+"Snow-Burner," said Tilly. "Tilly tell you this before she go 'way.
+Tilly going 'way now. Tilly going 'way far off to father's tepee.
+Snow-Burner tell um me go. Snow-Burner tell um me go last night.
+Snow-Burner say he no want Tilly stay in camp longer. Tilly know why
+Snow-Burner no want her stay in camp. Snow-Burner through with Tilly.
+Snow-Burner now want um Miss Pearson. So."
+
+"Tilly! Hold on!" She had already turned away, but she halted at his
+voice and came close to the window. "What is this? Are you going away at
+once--because the Snow-Burner says so?"
+
+The squaw nodded, stoically submissive.
+
+"Snow-Burner say 'go'; Tilly go," she said. "Snow-Burner say go before
+any one see um me this morning. I go now. Must go; Snow-Burner say so."
+
+"And Miss Pearson?" whispered Toppy frantically. "Did he say anything
+about her?"
+
+Tilly nodded heavily.
+
+"Tell um me long 'go. Tell um me before Miss Pearson come. Tell um me he
+going marry Miss Pearson for um Christmas present. Christmas Day come
+soon now. Snow-Burner no want Tilly here then. Send Tilly 'way."
+
+The breath seemed to leave Toppy's body for an instant. He swayed and
+caught at the window-frame.
+
+"Marry her--Christmas Day?" he whispered, horrified.
+
+"Yes. He no tell um Miss Pearson yet. He tell me no tell um her, no tell
+um anybody. I tell you. Now go."
+
+Before Toppy had sufficiently recovered his wits to speak again he heard
+the crunch of her moccasins on the snow dying away in the darkness as
+the cast-off squaw stolidly started on her journey into the woods.
+
+"Tilly!" called Toppy desperately, but there was no answer.
+
+"What's matter?" murmured Campbell, disturbed in his deep slumber, and
+falling to sleep again before he received a reply.
+
+Toppy stood for a long time with his face held close to the window
+through which he had heard Tilly's startling news. The shock had numbed
+him. Although he had been prepared to expect anything of Reivers, he now
+realised that this was something more than he had thought possible even
+from him. The Snow-Burner--marry Miss Pearson--for a Christmas
+present--Christmas Day! He seemed to hear Tilly repeating the words over
+and over again. And Reivers had not even so much as told Miss Pearson of
+what he intended to do. He had not even told her that he intended to
+marry her. So Tilly said, and Tilly knew. What did Reivers intend to do
+then? How did he know he was going to marry her? How did he know she
+would have him?
+
+Toppy shivered a little as his wits began to work more clearly, and the
+full significance of the situation began to grow clear to him. He
+understood now. Reivers had good reason for making his plans so
+confidently. He had studied the girl until he had seen that his will had
+dominated hers; that though she might not love him, might even fear him,
+she had not the will-power against him to say nay to his wishes.
+
+He knew that she was helplessly fascinated, that she was his for the
+taking. He had been too busy to take her until now; the serious duties
+of his position had allowed no time for dalliance. So the girl had been
+safe and unmolested--until now! And now Reivers was secretly preparing to
+make her his own!
+
+A sudden thought struck Toppy, and he tiptoed to the door and looked
+out. Instead of the crisp coldness of recent mornings there was a warm
+mugginess in the air; and Toppy, bending down, placed his hand on the
+snow and felt that it had begun to soften. The thaw had come.
+
+"I thought so," he said to himself. "The work will break up now, and
+he's going to amuse himself. Well, he made a mistake when he told Tilly.
+She's been civilised just enough to make her capable of jealousy."
+
+He went back to his bunk and dressed.
+
+"What are you stirring around so early for?" grumbled Campbell. "Dinna
+ye get work enough during the day, to be getting up in the dark?"
+
+"The thaw's come," said Toppy, throwing on his cap. "There'll be
+something doing besides work now."
+
+He went out into the dark morning, crossed the road and softly tried the
+door to the office. He felt much better when he had assured himself that
+the door was securely locked on the inside. Then he returned to the shop
+and waited for the daylight to appear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII--"CANNY BY NATURE"
+
+
+Old Campbell arose at his usual time, surprised and pleased to find that
+Toppy had breakfast already cooked and on the table. Being a canny Scot,
+he did not express his surprise or pleasure, but proceeded to look about
+for signs to indicate the reason of Toppy's unwonted conduct. All that
+he could make out was that Toppy's eyes were bright with some sort of
+excitement, and that the grim set of his mouth had given way to an
+expression of relief. So the Scot sat down to eat, shaking his grey head
+in puzzled fashion.
+
+"I dinna see that this thaw should be any reason for your parading
+around before the night's done," he grumbled. "Were you so tired of a
+little useful work that ye maun greet a let-down with such early
+rising?"
+
+Toppy sat down and proceeded to breakfast without venturing a reply.
+When they had finished the meal he pushed back his chair and looked
+across at Campbell. Huge and careless, he sprawled in his chair, the
+tension and uncertainty gone now that he had made his resolution; and
+Campbell, studying his face, sensed that something was up and leaned
+forward eagerly.
+
+"I want to lay off to-day, Scotty," said Toppy deliberately. "I've got a
+little business that I want to settle with Reivers."
+
+Old Campbell did not start nor in any way indicate surprise.
+
+"Aye!" he said quietly after a pause. "I ha' seen from the first it
+would have to be that in the end. Ye maun settle which is best man. But
+why to-day?"
+
+"Because now that the thaw has spoiled the sleighing Reivers will have
+time for deviltry." And Toppy went on and told all that he had heard
+from Tilly's lips that morning. Campbell shook his head angrily as he
+heard.
+
+"Many things has the Snow-Burner done ill," he said, "and his sins
+against men and women cry for punishment; but that--to yon little
+lass--gi'n he did that, that would be worst of all. What are your plans,
+lad?"
+
+"Nothing," said Toppy. "I will go and find him, and we'll have it out."
+
+"Not so," said Campbell swiftly. "Gi'n you did that 'twould cost you
+your life did you chance to win o'er him. Do you think those devils with
+the guns would not murder to win favour of the Snow-Burner, him holding
+the lives and liberty of all of them in his hands as he does? Nay, lad!
+Fight ye must; you're both too big and spirited to meet without coming
+to grips; but you have aye the need of an old head on your side if
+you're to stand up with Reivers on even terms.
+
+"What think you he would fancy, did you go to him with a confident bold
+challenge as you suggest? That you had a trick up your sleeve, with the
+men in on it, perhaps; and he'd have the guards there with their guns to
+see he won as sure as we're sitting here talking. No; I ha' seen for
+weeks 'twas coming on, and I ha' been using this auld head o' mine. I
+may even say I ha' been doing more than thinking; I ha' been talking. I
+have told Reivers that you were becoming unbearable in this shop, and
+that I could not stand you much longer as my helper."
+
+Toppy looked across the table, amazed and pained.
+
+"Why--what's wrong, Scotty?" he stammered.
+
+"Tush, lad!" snapped the old man. "Dinna think I meant it. I only told
+Reivers so for the effect."
+
+Toppy was bewildered.
+
+"I don't see what you're driving at, Scotty."
+
+"Listen, then; I ha' told Reivers that you were getting the swell head
+so bad there was no working you. I ha' told him you were at heart
+nothing but a fresh young whiffet who needed taming, and gi'n he made me
+keep you here I mysel' would do the taming with an ax-handle. Do you
+begin to get my drift now, lad?"
+
+"I confess I don't," admitted Toppy.
+
+"Well, then--Reivers said: 'That's how I sized him up, too. But don't you
+do the taming, Campbell,' says he. 'I am saving him for mysel',' he
+says. 'But I will not put up with his lip longer,' said I. 'Man,
+Reivers,' I says, 'he thinks he's a fighter, and the other day I slammed
+him on his back mysel'; and gi'n I had my old wind,' I says, 'I would
+have whipped him then and there.'
+
+"Oh, carried on strong, losing my temper and all. 'Five year ago I would
+ha' broken his back, the big young fool!' I says. 'An' he swaggers
+around me and thinks he's a boss man because he licked that bloat
+Sheedy. Ah!' I says. 'I'll stand it till he gives me lip again; then
+I'll lay him out with whatever I have in my hands,' says I.
+
+"'Don't do it,' says Reivers, smiling to see me so worked up, and
+surmising, as I intended he should, that I was angry only because I'd
+discovered that you were a better man than mysel'. 'Save him for me,'
+says he. 'As soon as I have more time I will 'tend to him. In the
+meantime,' he says, 'let him go on thinking he is a good man.'
+
+"Lad, he swallowed it all, for it's four years since he knew me first,
+and that was the first lie I'd told him at all. 'I'll take him under my
+eye soon as I have more time,' says he. 'He'll not swagger after I've
+tamed him a little.'"
+
+"But I don't just see----"
+
+"Dolt! Dinna you see that noo he considers you as an overconfident young
+fool whom he's going to take the conceit out of? Dinna ye see that noo
+you're in the same category as the other men he's broken down? He'll not
+think it worth while to have his shotgun men handy noo when he starts in
+to do his breaking. He'll start it, ye understand; not you. 'Twill be
+proper so. I will go this morning and tell him that the end has come;
+that I can not stand you longer around me. He'll give you something to
+do--under him. Under him, do you see? Then you must e'en watch your
+chance, and--and happen I'll manage to be around in case the guards
+should show up."
+
+"Better keep out of it altogether," said Toppy. "They won't use their
+guns in an even fight, and you couldn't do anything with your bare hands
+if they did."
+
+"With my bare hands, no," said Campbell, going to his bunk. "But I am
+not so bare-handed as you think, lad." He dug under the blankets and
+held up a huge black revolver. "Canny by nature!" he said; thrusting the
+grim weapon under his trousers-band. "I made no idle threat when I told
+Reivers I would shoot his head off did he ever try to make a broken man
+out of me. I have had this utensil handy ever since."
+
+"Scotty," cried Toppy, deeply moved at the old man's staunch friendship,
+"when did you begin to plan this scheme?"
+
+Campbell looked squarely into his eyes.
+
+"The same day that I talked with yon lassie and learned how Reivers had
+fascinated her."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Dinna ye know nothing about women, lad?"
+
+"I----What do you mean?"
+
+"Do you fancy Reivers could carry his will so strong with folks gi'n ye
+happen to make a beaten man out of him? And do you not think yon lass
+would come back to her right mind gi'n the Snow-Burner loses his power
+o'er her? You're no' so blind as not to see she's no liking for him, but
+the de'il has in a way mesmerised her."
+
+"Then you mean----"
+
+"That when you and the Snow-Burner put up your mitts ye'll be fighting
+for more than just to see who's best man. Now think that over, lad,
+while I go and complain to Reivers that I can not stand you an hour
+longer, and arrange for him to give you your taming."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX--THE FIGHT
+
+
+It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the air had fled before the
+unclouded sun, and the day was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight
+coming in through the eastern window flooded the room. Outside could be
+heard the steady drip-drip from the melting icicles, and the chirp of
+the chickadees industriously seeking a breakfast around the door made
+the morning cheery.
+
+Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell had gone on his
+errand, and looked out of the open door, and waited. From where he sat
+he could see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss Pearson
+come out, stand for a moment in the doorway peering around in puzzled
+fashion, and go in again.
+
+Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified--that the girl was
+puzzled and perhaps frightened over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but
+he had no impulse to cross the street and break the news to her. The
+girl, Tilly's absence, such things were to him only incidentals now. He
+saw the girl as if far away, as if she were something that did not
+greatly concern him.
+
+Through his mind there ran recollections of other moments like
+this--moments of waiting in the training-quarters back at school for the
+word of the coach to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit
+after the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking of all
+worry and nervousness in the knowledge that now that the test was on he
+would do the best that was in him, and that beyond this there was
+nothing for a man to think or worry about.
+
+Back there at school there had also been that sense of dissociation from
+all things not involved in the contest before him. The roaring stands,
+the pretty girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of his name
+shouted far down the field--he had heard them, but they had not affected
+him. For the time being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human
+machine, completely concentrated, as machines must be, upon the
+accomplishment of one task. Then it had been to play a game; now it was
+to fight. But it was much the same, after all; it was all in the
+man-game.
+
+A feeling of content was the only emotion that Toppy was conscious of in
+the long minutes during which he waited for Campbell to return. The
+drip-drip from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees came as music
+to his ears. The Snow-Burner and he were going to fight; in that
+knowledge there was relief after the weeks of tension.
+
+Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside, and Campbell's broad
+shoulders filled the doorway. Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a
+shoe-lace.
+
+"It's all set," said Campbell rapidly. "He says send you to him at once.
+You're in luck. He's in the stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is
+only one guard at the gate. I'll follow and be handy in case he should
+interfere."
+
+That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without a word. He made his
+way to the stockade gate with a carelessness of manner that belied his
+purpose. He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the gate and
+that the snow already was squashy underfoot. The gate opened and
+admitted him and closed behind him. Then he was walking across the yard
+toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp kitchen at the far end
+of the yard.
+
+Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses, perhaps fifty in all,
+and realised that the sudden thaw had at once enforced a period of
+idleness for some of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the
+greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored; then he was standing
+before Reivers, and Reivers was looking at him as he had looked at Rosky
+the day when he broke the Bohunk's leg. Toppy looked back, unmoved. For
+a moment the two stood silent, eye measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke
+savagely, enraged at finding a will that braved his own.
+
+"What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?"
+
+"Game?" repeated Toppy innocently.
+
+"Come, come!" Reivers' brows were drawing down over his eyes, and again
+Toppy for some reason was reminded of a bear. "You don't suppose I'm as
+innocent as Campbell, do you? You've been raising ---- in the shop, I
+hear. You're doing that with an object. You're trying some game. I don't
+care what it is; it doesn't go. There doesn't anybody try any games in
+this place except myself."
+
+"How about poker-games?" suggested Toppy quietly.
+
+A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind Reivers snickered
+audibly; for Campbell had told the story of how Toppy had bested the
+boss at poker and the man understood Toppy's thrust. Reivers' eyes
+flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant he had his anger under
+control again. He smiled.
+
+"Well, well; so we're playing the wit, are we--doctor?" he sneered
+softly. "We're trying to drive that trained mind of ours to be
+brilliant, are we? Well, I wouldn't, Treplin; the strain on inferior
+machinery may be fatal." Suddenly his whole face seemed to change,
+convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. "Get over there in that
+corner and dig a slop-sink; you hear me?" Reivers' voice was a snarl as
+he pointed to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel lay
+waiting. "That's what you're going to do, my fine buck, with your nerve
+to dare to come into my camp and think you're my equal. Dig slop-holes
+for my Dago cook; that's what you're going to do!
+
+"Do you hear? You're going to be the lowest scavenger in this gang of
+scum. I'm going to break you. I'm going to keep you here until I'm
+through with you. I'm going to send you out of here so low down that a
+saloon scrub-out would kick you on general principles. That's what's
+going to happen to you! I'm going to play with you. I'm going to show
+you how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in my own camp.
+Get over there now--right over there where the whole camp can see you,
+and dig a hole for the Dago to throw his slops!"
+
+Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner's face as the
+words shot from his iron-like lips without retreating, but Toppy stood
+still. He began to smile.
+
+"Pardon, Reivers," he said softly, "I never thought of myself as your
+equal."
+
+"Don't whine now; it's too late! Go----"
+
+"Because I know I'm a better man than you ever could be."
+
+It grew very still with great suddenness there in the corner of the big
+yard. The men within hearing held their breaths. The drip-drip from the
+eaves sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the wolf-craft
+creeping to its own far back in Reivers' eyes, and without moving he
+stood tensed for sudden, flash-like action.
+
+"So that's it?" said Reivers, smiling; and then he struck with
+serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that blow Toppy knew how desperate
+would be the battle; for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he
+had time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to save himself
+from certain knockout, while the iron-like fist tore the skin off his
+cheek as it shot past.
+
+Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. He stood upright and
+ready. He was a little surprised that his man did not go down. Toppy,
+recovering like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they
+faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls they hurled themselves
+breast to breast and the fight was on.
+
+Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind the challenge that
+had flared in Reivers' eyes. It wasn't science; it wasn't sense. It was
+the blind, primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to stop him,
+to force him back, to make him break ground. Breast upon breast Reivers
+and Toppy came together and stopped short, two bodies of equal force
+suddenly meeting.
+
+Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at guarding. Toe to toe
+they stood, head to head, and drove their fists against one another's
+iron-strong bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants like
+themselves could have withstood for a moment. It was madness, it was
+murder, and the group of men who were watching held their breaths and
+waited for one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked out of
+him by those pile-driver blows.
+
+Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the pair leaped apart,
+rushed together again, gripped into a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion
+with futile heaving and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed
+each other with vicious punches--a kaleidoscope of springing legs,
+rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms.
+
+It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from the heart of the men
+who witnessed and dragged them forth to form a ring around the two
+fighters. It was a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound
+came from the ring that expanded and closed as the battle raged here and
+there. The men were at first too shocked to cry out at the sight of any
+one daring to give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had worn
+away they were too wary to give a sign that might bring the guards.
+Silently and tight-lipped the ring formed; and each pair of eyes that
+watched shot nothing but hatred for Reivers.
+
+Toppy was the first to recover from the initial frensied impulse to
+strive to annihilate in one rush his hated enemy. He shook his head as
+he was wont to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his
+fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he had held his own, but
+only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked Reivers slightly in body and was a
+trifle quicker on his feet, but Reivers' blows were enough heavier than
+his to even up this advantage.
+
+He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman's neck under the ear,
+and the neck had not yielded any more than a column of wood. He had felt
+Reivers' fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it seemed that he had
+been struck by a handful of iron. When they had strained breast against
+breast in the first clash the fact that they were of equal strength had
+been apparent to both. Equally matched, and both equally determined to
+win, Toppy knew that the fight would be long; and he began to circle
+scientifically, striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving
+himself while he watched for a slip or an opening that might offer an
+advantage.
+
+Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second paused, deceived by
+Toppy's tactics. Like a bullet to the mark Toppy's right shot home on
+the exposed chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was up
+like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the mouth and rushing him
+around and around in fury at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy's
+expression told how he appreciated the significance of this incident. He
+had put all his force, from toes to knuckles, into that blow; and
+Reivers had merely been staggered. Again Toppy began circling,
+deliberately saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to him
+seemed uphill.
+
+The ring of watchers around the pair grew more close, more eager. All of
+the men present in the bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As
+Toppy circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys and most of
+the gang that had worked under him in the quarry; and by the looks in
+their eyes he knew that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In
+the next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers, swiftly
+feinting with his left, drove home the right against Toppy's jaw and
+knocked him to his haunches. But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as
+he closed in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing to the
+eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped the tight lips around
+the ring. The blood was spurting from a clean cut in Reivers' brow and a
+few men called--
+
+"First blood!"
+
+Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after Reivers' blow. The
+feel of the blood running down his face turned Reivers to a fury. He
+rushed with an impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists
+playing a tattoo on Toppy's head and body. Like a tiger Toppy fought
+back; but Reivers' rage for the moment had given him added strength. He
+fought as a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed and
+struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and rushed and struck
+again.
+
+Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the crowd as they saw him
+stagger from a blow on the jaw and saw Reivers set himself for one last
+desperate effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon, his left
+ripping up for the body, his right looping overhand in a killing swing
+at the head; and then the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior
+quickness of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past dealt him a
+left in the mouth that flung him half around and sent him staggering
+against the outheld hands of the crowd.
+
+When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding from the mouth also, and
+in his eyes was a look of caution that Toppy had never seen there
+before.
+
+The fight now became as dogged as it was furious. Each man had tried to
+end it with a single and, failing, knew that he must wear his opponent
+down. Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows struck and neither
+was in the least tired. The thud of blow followed blow. Back and forth
+the pair shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of punches,
+then his antagonist suddenly turning the tables.
+
+Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight, saved himself more
+than Reivers. The latter, who felt himself the master, became more and
+more enraged as Toppy continued to stand up before him and give him back
+as good as he gave. Each time that Toppy reached face or body with a
+solid blow the savage fury flared in Reivers' eyes, and he lunged
+forward like a maddened bull. Always, however, he recovered himself and
+resumed the fight with brains as well as brawn.
+
+Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm. He realised that
+they were so evenly matched that the loser would lose by a slip of the
+mind by letting some weak spot in his character master him; and he held
+himself in with an iron will. Reivers' blows goaded and tempted him to
+rush in madly, but he held back. The men about the ring thought he was
+losing, and their voices rose in growled encouragement.
+
+Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become more and more furious his
+hopes began to rise. At each opportunity he reached Reivers' face,
+cutting open his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging
+him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down several times in the
+rushes that invariably followed such blows, but each time he recovered
+himself before Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his
+fighting-instinct telegraphed him that Reivers was about to try
+something new. He drew back a little, Reivers following closely.
+Suddenly it came. Without warning Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in
+the groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry of rage went up
+from the watching men. But Toppy sprung erect in an instant.
+
+"All right!" he called. "It didn't hurt me. Shut up, you fools."
+
+Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned the kick and saved
+him from being disabled.
+
+"What's the matter, Reivers?" he taunted as he circled carefully.
+"Losing confidence in your fists? Got to use your feet, eh? Lost your
+kick, too, haven't you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine
+trimming!"
+
+Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the shin-bone; but Toppy
+avoided it easily and danced back with a laugh.
+
+"Can't even land it any more!" Treplin chuckled. "Show us some more
+tricks, Reivers!"
+
+Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought with lowered head,
+and Toppy once more, as he saw the eyes watching him through the thick
+brows, thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers' character
+was coming to the top. It was mastering, choking down his intelligence.
+He struck and kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a
+steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on Toppy's thigh with a
+thud.
+
+"Here, bahass!" screamed a voice to Toppy, and from somewhere in the
+crowd an ax was pitched at his feet.
+
+Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, and, though in deep pain
+from the last kick, continued fighting as if nothing had happened.
+
+The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and been caught by the sight
+of the flashing steel. A gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of
+his ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with one terrible
+stroke--that was his single passion. The axe opened the way.
+
+Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little by little he drove
+Toppy back. Closer and closer he came to the spot where the axe lay on
+the ground. Once more Toppy's instinct warned him that Reivers was after
+a terrible coup, and once more his whole mind and body responded with
+extra vigilance.
+
+As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his feet and understood.
+He saw that Reivers was systematically working toward the weapon, though
+apparently unconscious of its existence.
+
+It was in Toppy's mind to dance away, to call out to the men to remove
+the axe; but before he could do so something had whispered to him to
+hold his tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back at every
+inch.
+
+Now he had stepped beyond the axe.
+
+Now it lay between him and Reivers.
+
+Now it lay beneath Reivers' feet, and now, as Reivers stooped to pick it
+up, Toppy, like a tiger, flung himself forward. It was what he had
+foreseen, what had made him hold his tongue.
+
+The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the weapon; the calmly
+reasoning brain in Toppy's head had foreseen that in that lay his
+advantage. It was for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers
+paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had flung himself forward
+at the psychological moment it was enough. Reivers was bent over with
+his hand on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind his
+left ear exposed.
+
+Toppy's fist, swung from far behind him, struck the spot with the sound
+of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped as he was, rolled over and over and
+lay still. Toppy first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach.
+Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a string of foul
+curses on his lips.
+
+Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. His left lifted
+Reivers from his feet. Even while he was in the air, Toppy's right
+followed on the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, drawing a long
+breath, called into play all the strength he had been saving. He struck
+and struck again so rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow
+found its mark; and each was of deadly power.
+
+He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he willed. He beat him till
+he saw Reivers' eyes grow glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost
+superhuman strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet until now in
+spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now he swayed back and forth once.
+His breath came in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly;
+and as a great tree falls--slowly at first, then with a sudden crash--the
+Snow-Burner toppled and fell face downward on the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX--TOPPY'S WAY
+
+
+Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished foe. The convulsive rise
+and fall of his breast as he panted for breath told how desperately and
+savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious and looked down upon
+the man he had conquered, the chivalry innate in him began to stir with
+respect and even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked at
+Reivers' bloody face as, the head turned on one side, it lay nuzzled
+helplessly against the soft ground. A wave of revulsion, the aftermath
+of his fury, passed over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his
+eyes as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists had
+wrought.
+
+And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not foreseen it, never had
+dreamed it possible. But now the men who had watched cried aloud their
+hatred of the big man who lay before them. The king-man, their master,
+was down! Upright, they would have quailed before his mere look. But now
+he was down! The man who had mastered them, broken them, tortured them,
+lay helpless there before them. The courage and hate of slaves suddenly
+in power over their master flamed through them. This was their chance;
+they had him now.
+
+"We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!" they roared, and threw
+themselves like a pack of wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they
+rushed Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness; then he went
+down under a shower of heavily booted feet.
+
+With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself forward. He knew quite well
+that this was what Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the
+men some time would have the opportunity for such revenge. But now he
+discovered that he couldn't stand by and see it done. It wasn't in him.
+Reivers was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was helpless.
+Toppy's rage suddenly swerved from Reivers to the men who were trying to
+kick the life out of him.
+
+"Back! Get back there, I say!" he ordered.
+
+He reached in and threw men right and left. He knocked others down. One
+he picked up and used as a battering-ram, and so he fought his way in
+and cleared the rabble away from Reivers. Reivers with more than human
+tenaciousness had retained a glimmer of consciousness. He saw Toppy
+standing astride of him fighting for his life. And in that beaten,
+desperate moment Reivers laughed once more.
+
+"You're a ---- fool, Treplin," said he. "You'd better let them finish the
+job."
+
+Toppy dragged him to his feet. A gleam of mastery flashed over the
+Snow-Burner as he felt himself standing upright. He swung to face the
+men.
+
+"Out of the way there, you scum!" he ordered, in his old manner. The men
+laughed in reply. The spell had been broken. The men had seen the
+Snow-Burner knocked down and beaten. They had seen that Toppy was his
+master. They had kicked him; they had had him under them. No longer did
+he stand apart and above them. They cursed him and swarmed in, striking,
+kicking, hauling, and dragged him to the ground.
+
+"Give him to us, bahss!" they cried. "Let us kill him, bahss!"
+
+Some of them hung back. They did not wish to run contrary to the wishes
+of Toppy, their "bahss" and champion. Toppy once more got Reivers on his
+feet and dragged him toward the gate. A knife or two gleamed in the
+crowd.
+
+"Run for the gate!" cried Toppy. Reivers tottered a few steps and fell.
+Over him Toppy stormed, fought, commanded, but the mob pressed
+constantly closer. Then, suddenly, they stopped striking. They began to
+break. Toppy, looking around for the reason, saw Campbell and a guard
+running toward them--Campbell with his big revolver, the guard with his
+gun at a ready. With a last tremendous effort he picked Reivers up in
+his arms and ran to meet them. He heard the guard fire once, heard
+Campbell ordering the men to stand back; then he staggered out of the
+stockade and dropped his heavy burden on the ground. Behind him Campbell
+and the guard slammed shut the gate, and within the cries and curses of
+the men rose in one awful wail, the cry of a blood-mob cheated of its
+prey.
+
+Reivers rose slowly, first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He
+looked at Toppy, and the only expression upon his face was a sneer.
+
+"You ---- fool!" he laughed. "You poor weak sister! You'll be sorry before
+morning that you didn't let the men finish that job!"
+
+He turned, and without another word went staggering away to the building
+where he and the guards lived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI--THE END OF THE BOSS
+
+
+Back in the shop Campbell went to work with a will to doctor up Toppy's
+battered face.
+
+"I dunno, lad, I dunno," he muttered as he patched up the ragged cuts.
+"It was the poetry of justice that the men should have had him, but I
+dunno that I could ha' left him lie there myself."
+
+"Of course you couldn't," said Toppy. "A man can't do that sort of
+thing. But, say, Campbell, what do you suppose he meant about being
+sorry before morning because I saved him?"
+
+Although he had won in the contest which he had so longed for, although
+he had proved and knew that he was a better man than Reivers, Toppy for
+some reason experienced none of the elation which he had expected. The
+thing wasn't settled. Reivers was still fighting. He was still boss of
+Hell Camp. He was fighting with craft now. What had that final threat
+meant?
+
+"It has to do with the lass; I'll wager on that," said Campbell. "He
+will aye be taking his revenge on her. I know the man; he has that way."
+
+"The dog!"
+
+"Aye.--Hold still wi' that ear now.--Aye; it's the way of the man, as I
+know him. But I'm thinking some one else will play dog, too. Watchdog, I
+mean. And I'm thinking the same will be mysel'."
+
+"You don't think he'll try----"
+
+"The Snow-Burner will try anything if his mind's set. Even force.--Hold
+still wi' your chin.--You licked him fair, lad. 'Twas a great fight.
+You're best man. But I'm glad I have my shooting-utensil handy, for if
+I'm any judge Hell Camp will aye deserve its name to-night."
+
+"What do you think will happen?"
+
+"'Tis hard to say. But 'tis sure Reivers means to do something
+desperate, and as I know the man 'tis something that concerns the lass.
+Then there are the men. They have tasted blood. They have seen the
+Snow-Burner beaten. His grip has been torn off them. They're no longer
+afraid. When the working gangs come in this noon and hear the story
+there'll be nothing can hold them from doing what they please. You know
+what that will be. They're wild to break loose. Gi'n they lay hands on
+Reivers they'll tear him and the camp to pieces. Aye, there'll be things
+stirring here before evening, or I'm a dolt."
+
+True to Campbell's prediction, the stockade shook with cheers, roars and
+curses that noon when the working men came in and heard the tale of the
+Snow-Burner's downfall. The discipline of the camp vanished with those
+shouts. The men were no longer cowed. They were free and unafraid. After
+they had eaten, the straw-bosses and guards prepared to lead them back
+to their work.
+
+The men laughed. The bosses joined them. The guards threatened. The men
+jeered. Reivers, the only force that had kept them cowed, was lying
+beaten and helpless in his bunk, and not even the shotguns of the guards
+could cow the fierce spirit that had broken loose in the men when they
+heard this news.
+
+"Shoot, ---- you, shoot!" they jeered at the guards.
+
+The guards faltered. The whole camp was in revolt and they knew that as
+sure as one shot was fired the men would rush at no matter how great the
+cost to themselves. There were a hundred and fifty maddened, desperate
+men in the camp now, instead of a hundred and fifty cattle; and the
+guards, minus Reivers' leadership, retreated to their quarters and
+locked the door.
+
+The men did not go back to work. Not an axe, peavey or cant-hook was
+touched; not a team was hitched up. The men swaggered and shouted for
+Reivers to come out and boss them. They begged him to come out. They
+wanted to talk with him. They had a lot to tell him. They wouldn't hurt
+him--no, they would only give him a little of his own medicine!
+
+However, they gave the guards' house a wide berth, on account of the
+deadly shotguns. The short afternoon passed quickly and the darkness
+came on.
+
+Toppy and Campbell were sitting down to supper when they noticed that it
+was unusually light in the direction of the stockade. Presently there
+was a roaring crackling; then a chorus of cries, demonlike in their
+ferocity. Toppy sprang to the window and staggered back at the sight
+that met his eyes.
+
+"Great Scot, Campbell! Look, look!" he cried. "They've fired the camp!"
+
+Together they rushed to the door. From the farther end of the stockade a
+billow of red, pitchy flame was sweeping up into the night, and the roar
+and crackle of the dried pine logs burning was drowned in the cries of
+the men as they cheered the results of their handiwork.
+
+Toppy and Campbell ran toward the stockade gate. The gate had been
+chopped to pieces, but the guards, from the shelter of their building,
+were shooting at the opening and preventing the men from rushing out.
+The flames at the far end of the stockade rose higher and fiercer as
+they began to get their hold on the pitchy wood. The smoke, billowing
+low, came driving back into the faces of Campbell and Toppy.
+
+"They've done it up brown now!" swore Campbell. "The wind's this way.
+The whole camp will go unless yon fire's checked."
+
+Over the front of the stockade something flew through the darkness, its
+parabola marked by a string of sparks that spluttered behind it. It fell
+near one side of the guards' quarters. A second later it exploded with a
+noise and shock that shook the whole camp.
+
+"Dynamite," said Scotty. "The men have been stealing it and saving it
+for this occasion. Gi'n one of those sticks lands on that building
+there'll be dead men inside."
+
+But the men inside evidently had no mind to wait for such a catastrophe.
+They came rushing out in the darkness, slipping quickly out of sight,
+yet firing at the gate as they went. One of them rushed past Toppy in
+the direction of the office. Toppy scarcely noticed him. On second
+thought something about the man's great size, his broad shoulders, the
+hang of his arms, attracted him. He turned to look; the man had vanished
+in the dark. A vague uneasiness took possession of Toppy. For a moment
+he stood puzzled.
+
+"My ----!" he cried suddenly. "That was Reivers, and he was going to her!"
+
+He started in pursuit. Reivers was pounding on the door of the office
+when Toppy reached him. The door was locked.
+
+"Open up; open up at once!" he ordered. Beyond the door Toppy heard the
+voice of the girl.
+
+"Oh, please, please, Mr. Reivers! I'm afraid!"
+
+Reivers' tone changed.
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of, Miss Pearson," he said blandly. "There's a
+fire in camp. I want to get in to save the books and papers."
+
+"Is that why you sent Tilly away this morning?" said Toppy quietly,
+coming up behind him.
+
+Reivers turned with a start.
+
+"Hello, Treplin!" he said, recovering himself instantly. "No hard
+feelings, I hope." His manner was so at ease that Toppy was thrown off
+his guard.
+
+"I won't make the mistake of fighting with you any more, Treplin,"
+continued Reivers. "Look at the way you've spoiled my nose. You ought to
+fix that up for me. Look at it."
+
+He came closer and pointed with two fingers to his broken nose. Toppy,
+unsuspecting, leaned forward. Before he could move head or arms Reivers'
+two hands had shot out and fastened like two iron claws upon his
+unprotected throat.
+
+"Now, ---- you!" hissed Reivers. "Tear me loose or kiss your life
+good-by."
+
+And Toppy tried to tear him loose--tried with a desperation born of the
+sudden knowledge that his life depended upon it; and failed. The
+Snow-Burner had got his death-hold. His arms were like bars of steel;
+his fingers yielded no more to Toppy's tugging than claws of moulded
+iron. "Struggle, ---- you! Fight, ---- you!" hissed Reivers. "That's right;
+die hard; for, by ----, you're done now!"
+
+The eyes seemed starting from Toppy's head. His brains seemed to be
+bursting. He felt a strange emptiness in his chest. Things went red,
+then they began to go black. He made one final futile attempt. He felt
+his legs sinking, felt his whole body sagging, felt that the end had
+come; then heard as if far away the office-door fly open, heard the girl
+crying----
+
+"Stop, Mr. Reivers, or I'll shoot!"
+
+Then the roar of a shot. He felt the hands loosen on his throat, swayed
+and fell sidewise as the whole world turned black.
+
+He opened his eyes soon and saw by the light of the rising flames that
+Campbell was running toward him. In the doorway of the office stood the
+girl, her left hand over her eyes, Campbell's big black revolver in her
+right. Down the road, with strange, drunken steps, Reivers was running
+toward the river. Behind him ran half a dozen men armed with axes
+screaming his name in rage, but Reivers, despite his queer gait, was
+distancing his pursuers. It was some time before Toppy grasped the
+significance of these sights. Then he remembered.
+
+"You--you saved me," he said clumsily, rising to his feet. The girl
+dropped the revolver and burst into a fit of sobbing.
+
+"'Twas aye handy I thought of giving her the gun and telling her to keep
+the door locked," said Campbell. "Do you go in, lassie. All's well. Go
+in."
+
+"Eh? What's this?" he cried, for in spite of her sobbing she drew
+sharply away from his sheltering arm as he tried to usher her indoors.
+
+The smoke from the fire swept down into their faces in a choking cloud.
+Toppy looked toward the stockade. By this time the whole end of the
+great building was in flames. The men in pursuit of Reivers were howling
+as they gained on their quarry, and Toppy lurched after them.
+
+"Bob! Mr. Treplin!"
+
+Toppy stopped.
+
+"I mean--Mr. Treplin--you--don't go down there--you're hurt--please!"
+
+Toppy moved toward her. Was it true? Was it really there the note in her
+voice that he yearned to hear?
+
+"What did you say--please?" he stammered.
+
+And now it was her turn to be confused. The sobs came back to her. Toppy
+took a long breath and nerved himself to desperation.
+
+"Helen!" he said hoarsely.
+
+"Bob! Oh, Bob!" she whispered. "Don't leave me--don't leave me alone."
+
+Once more Toppy filled his lungs with air and ground his teeth in
+desperate resolution. He tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came
+from his throat; so he held out his big arms in mute appeal, and
+suddenly he found himself whispering incoherently at a little blonde
+head which lay snuggled in great content against his bosom.
+
+A maddened yell came from the men who were after Reivers. But Toppy and
+the girl might have been a thousand miles away for all the attention
+they paid. One end of the stockade fell in with a great roar and a
+shower of flame and sparks; but the twain did not hear.
+
+"Aye, aye!" Old Campbell moved swiftly away. "He's a grown man now, and
+so he's a right to have his woman.--Aye. A real man he had to be to take
+her away from the Snow-Burner."
+
+Down by the river the pursuing men gave tongue to a cry with the note of
+the wolf in it.
+
+Campbell turned from the young couple and stared with gleaming eyes in
+the direction whence came the cry.
+
+"Ah, Reivers!" he murmured. "Ye great man gone wrong! How goes it with
+ye now, Reivers? Can ye win through? Can ye? I wonder--I wonder!"
+
+And as Toppy and Helen, holding closely to one another, entered the
+office building, the old man hastened to join the throng by the river
+where the fate of the Snow-Burner was being spun.
+
+
+
+
+PART TWO: THE SUPERMAN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII--THE CHEATING OF THE RIVER
+
+
+"It's got him! The river's got him. He's drowned! 'Hell-Camp'
+Reivers--he's gone. He's done for. The 'Snow-Burner' is dead, dead dead!"
+
+Like wolves in revolt the men of "Hell Camp" lined the bank of the
+rushing, ice-choked river and cursed and roared into the blackness of
+the night. Behind them the buildings of the camp, scene of the
+Snow-Burner's inhuman brutality and dominance over the lives of men,
+were going up in seas of flame which they had started.
+
+Before them the tumultuous river, the waters battling the ice which
+strove to cover it, tossed black and white under the red glow of
+tumbling fire. And somewhere out in the murderous current, whirled and
+sucked down by the rushing water, buffeted and crushed by the grinding
+ice, a bullet-hole through his shoulder, was all that was left of the
+man whose life they had cried for.
+
+The river had cheated them. Like panting wolves, their hands
+outstretched claw-like to clutch and kill, they had pursued him closely
+to the river's edge. A cry of rage, short, sharp, unreasoning, had
+leaped from their throats as Reivers, staggering from his wound, had
+leaped unhesitatingly out on to the heaving cakes of ice.
+
+Spellbound, open-mouthed and silent, they had stood and watched as their
+erstwhile oppressor ran zigzagging, leaping from cake to cake, out
+toward the black slip of open water which ran silently, swiftly in the
+river's middle. And then they had cried out again.
+
+For the open water had caught him. Straight into it, without pausing or
+swerving, Reivers had run on. And the black water had taken him home.
+Like a stone dropped into its midst, it had taken him plump--a flirt of
+spray, a gurgle. Then the waters rushed on as before, silent, deadly,
+unconcerned.
+
+And so the men of Hell Camp, drunk with the spirit and success of their
+revolt, cried out in triumph. Their cry rose over the roar of flame. It
+rang above the rumble of crunching ice. It reached, paean-like, up
+through the star-filled northern night--a cry of victory, of
+gratification, the old, terrible cry of the kill.
+
+For the Snow-Burner was gone. Wolf-like he had harried them and
+wolf-like he had died. No man, not even Hell-Camp Reivers, they knew,
+could live a minute in that black water. They had seen the waters close
+above him; a floe of ice swept serenely over the spot where he had gone
+down. He was gone. The world was rid of him.
+
+And so the men of Cameron-Dam Camp, while their cry still echoed in the
+timber, turned to carry the news of the Snow-Burner's end back to the
+men who were milling about the burning camp. The Snow-Burner was dead!
+
+Out in the deadly river, Hell-Camp Reivers stayed under water until he
+knew that the men on the bank counted him drowned. He had sought the
+open water deliberately, his giant lungs filling themselves with air as
+he plunged down to the superhuman test which was to spell life or death
+for him.
+
+He realised that if he were to live he must appear to perish in the
+river, before the eyes of the men who pursued him. To have won through
+the open water, and over the ice beyond, and in their sight have reached
+the farther shore would have sealed his doom as surely as to have
+returned to the bank where stood the men.
+
+The camp had revolted. Two hundred men had said that he must die; and
+had he been seen to cross the river and enter the timber beyond, half of
+the two hundred, properly armed, would have crossed the stringers of the
+dam, not to pause or rest until they had hunted him down. He was without
+weapons of any kind save his bare fists. He was bleeding heavily from
+the bullet-hole in his right shoulder. He would have died like a wounded
+wolf run to earth had he been seen to cross the river safely. His only
+chance for life was to appear to die in the river.
+
+He made no fight as he went down. The swift waters sucked him under like
+a straw. They rolled him over the rocky bottom, whirled him around and
+around sunken piles of ice. Into the sluice-like current of the stream's
+middle they spewed him, and the current caught him and shot him into the
+darkness below the glare of the burning camp.
+
+He lay inert in the water's grasp, recking not how the sharp ice gashed
+and tore face and hands, how the rocks crushed and bruised his body. A
+sweeping ice-floe caught him and held him down. Like some great
+river-beast he lay supine beneath it, conserving every atom of his
+giant's strength for the test that was to win him life.
+
+Then, with the blood roaring in his temples, and his bursting lungs
+warning him that the next second must yield him air or death, he threw
+his body upward against the ice, felt it slip to one side, thrust his
+upturned face out of the water, caught a finger-hold on another floe
+that strove to thrust him down, gasped, clawed and--laughed.
+
+He was a dead man, and he lived. Men had driven him into the jaws of
+death, and death had engulfed and apparently swallowed him. Men counted
+him now as one who had gone hence. Far and wide the word would be flung
+in a hurry: the Snow-Burner was no more; Hell-Camp Reivers had passed
+away.
+
+The face of the Snow-Burner as it rode barely above the icy, lapping
+waters, bore but one single expression, a sardonic appreciation of the
+joke he had played upon men and Death. The loss of Cameron Camp, of his
+position, of all that he called his own did not trouble him.
+
+As the current swept him down there, he was a beaten man, stripped of
+all the things that men struggle for to have and to hold, and with but a
+slippery finger-hold on life itself. Yet he was victorious, triumphant.
+
+He had placed himself within the clammy fingers of the River Death. The
+fingers had closed upon him, and he had torn them apart, had thrust
+death away, had clutched life as it fleeted from him and had drawn it
+back to hold for the time being. And Reivers laughed contemptuously,
+tauntingly, at the sucking waters cheated of their prey.
+
+"Not yet, Nick, old boy," he muttered. "It doesn't please me to boss
+your stokers just yet."
+
+The current tore the ice from his precarious grip and he was forced to
+swim for it. In the darkness he struck the grinding icefield on the far
+side of the open water, and like the claws of a bear his stiffening
+fingers sought for and found a crevice to afford a secure hold.
+
+A pull, a heave and a wriggle, and he lay face-down on the jagged
+ice--heart, lungs and brain crying for the cold air which he sucked in
+avidly. The ice-cakes parted beneath his weight. Once more he fought
+through the water to a resting place on the ice; once more the
+treacherous ice parted and dropped him into the water.
+
+Swimming, crawling, wriggling his way, he fought on. At last an
+outstretched hand groped to a hold on a snow-covered root on the far
+bank of the river.
+
+"About time," he said and, slowly drawing himself up onto the bank, he
+rolled over in the snow and lay with his face turned back toward Cameron
+Camp.
+
+The fire which the men had started in the long bunk-house when they had
+revolted against the inhumanity of Reivers now had gained full headway.
+In pitchy, red billows of flame the dried log walls were roaring upward
+into the night. Like the yipping of maddened demons, the bellowing
+shouts of the men came back to him as they danced and leaped around the
+fire in celebration of the passing of Reivers and of the camp for which
+his treatment of men had justly earned the title of Hell-Camp.
+
+But louder and more poignant even than the roar of flame and the shouts
+of jubilant men, there came to Reivers' ears a sound which prompted him
+to drag himself to an elbow to listen. Somewhere out in the timber near
+the camp a man was crying for mercy. A rifle cracked; the pleading
+stopped. Reivers smiled contemptuously.
+
+"One of the guards; they got him," he mused. "The fool! That's what he
+gets for being silly enough to be faithful to me."
+
+But the fate of the guard, one of the "shot-gun artists" who had served
+him faithfully and brutally in the task of keeping the men of the camp
+helpless under his heel, roused Reivers to the need of quick action. If
+the guards had escaped into the woods and were being hunted down by the
+maddened crew, the hunt might easily lead across the dam and up the bank
+to where he lay. Once let it be known that he had not perished in the
+river, and the whole camp would come swarming across the dam, each man's
+hand against him, resolved to take his trail and hunt him down, no
+matter where the trail might lead or how long the hunt might take.
+
+The fight through the river ice was but the preliminary to his flight
+for safety. Many miles of cold trail between him and the burning camp
+were his most urgent present needs, and with a curse he staggered to his
+feet and stood for a moment lowering back across the water to the scene
+of his overthrow.
+
+To a lesser man--or a better man--there would have been deep humiliation
+in the situation. Reivers's mind flashed back over the incidents of the
+last few hours. Over there, across the river, he had been beaten for the
+first time in his life in a fair, stand-up fist fight. He had
+underestimated young Treplin, and Treplin had beaten him.
+
+Following his defeat had come the revolt of the men. Following that had
+come flight. The power and leadership of the camp had been wrested from
+his hands by a better man; he himself had been driven out, helpless,
+beaten, yet Reivers only laughed as he stood now and looked back across
+the river. For in the river the Snow-Burner had died.
+
+The past was dead. A new life was beginning for him. It had to be so,
+for if word went back that the Snow-Burner was still alive the men of
+Cameron-Dam Camp would come clamouring to the hunt. To die, and yet to
+live; to slough one life, as an old coat, and to take up another, not
+having the slightest notion of what it might hold--that was the great
+adventure, that was something so interesting that the humiliation of
+defeat never so much as reached beneath Reivers' skin.
+
+He stood for a moment, looking back at the camp, and he smiled. He waved
+his left hand in a polished gesture of contemptuous farewell.
+
+"Good-by, Mr. Hell-Camp Reivers," he growled. "Hello, Mr. New Man,
+whoever you are. Let's go and lay up till the puncture in your hide
+heals. Then we'll go out and see what you can do to this silly old
+world."
+
+With his fingers clutching the hole in his shoulder, he turned and
+lurched drunkenly away into the blackness of the thick timber.
+
+The icy waters of the river had been kind to him in more ways than one.
+They had congealed the warm blood-spurts from his wound into a solid red
+clot, and his thick woolen shirt and mackinaw were frozen stiff and
+tight against the clot.
+
+He held to his staggering run for an hour, seeking bare spots in the
+timber, travelling on top of windfalls when he found them, hiding his
+trail in uncanny fashion, before his body grew warm enough to thaw the
+icy bandages. Then he halted and, by the light of the cold moon, bared
+his shoulder and took stock. It was a bad, ragged wound. He moved the
+shoulder and smiled sardonically as he noted that no bone was touched.
+
+From the butt of a shattered windfall he tore a flat sliver of clean
+pine. With his teeth he worried it down to a proper size, and with
+handkerchief and belt he bound it over the wound so tightly that it sunk
+deep into the muscles of the shoulder. It chafed and cut the skin and
+started the blood in half a dozen places, but he pulled the belt up
+another hole despite the inclination to grimace from pain.
+
+"Suffer, Body," he muttered, "suffer all you please. You've nothing to
+say about this. Your job for the present is merely to serve life by
+keeping it going. Later on you may grow whole again. I shall need you."
+
+He buttoned his mackinaw with difficulty and, finding an open space,
+turned and took his bearings. Far behind him a dull red glow on the sky
+marked the location of Cameron-Dam Camp. From this he turned, carefully
+scanning the heavens, until above the top of the timber he caught the
+weird glint of the northern lights. That way lay his course.
+
+The white man's country stopped with the timber in which he stood.
+Beyond was Indian country, the bleak, barren Dead Lands, a wilderness
+too bare of timber to tempt the logger, a land of ridge upon ridge of
+ragged rock, unexplored by white man, save for a rare mining prospector,
+and uninhabited save for the half-starved camp of the people of Tillie,
+the Chippewa, Reivers' slave, by the power of the love she bore him.
+
+White men shunned the white wastes of the Dead Lands as, in warmer
+climes, they shun the unwatered sands of the desert. That was why
+Reivers sought it. Out there in the camp of Tillie's people he could lie
+safe, well fed, well nursed, until his wound healed and the strength of
+his body came back to him. And then....
+
+"Cheer up, Body!" he chuckled as he started northward. "We'll make the
+world pay bitterly for all of this when we're in shape again. For the
+present we're going north, going north, going north. You can't stop,
+Body; you can't lay down. Groan all you want to. You're going to be
+dragged just as far to-night as if you weren't shot up at all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII--THE GIRL WHO WAS NOT AFRAID
+
+
+Break of day in Winter time comes to the Dead Lands slowly and without
+enthusiasm, as if the rosy morning sun wearied at the hopeless landscape
+which its rays must illumine. Aimless rock formation was a drug on the
+creation's market the day that the Bad Lands were made. Gigantic
+boulders, box-like bluffs, ragged rock-spires, cliffs and plateaus of
+bare rock were in oversupply.
+
+Nature, so a glimpse of the place suggests, had resolved to get rid of a
+vast surplus of ugly, useless stone, and with one cast of its hands
+flung them solidly down and made the Dead Lands. There they lie,
+hog-back, ridge, gully and ravine, hopelessly and aimlessly jumbled and
+tumbled, a scene of desolate greyness by Summer; by Winter the raw,
+bleak ridges and spires, thrusting themselves through the covering of
+snow like unto the bones of a half concealed skeleton.
+
+Daylight crept wearily over the timber belt and spread itself slowly
+over the barrenness, and struck the highest rise of ground, running
+crosswise through the barrens, which men called "Hog-Back Ridge." Little
+by little it lighted up the bleak peaks and tops of ridge and
+rock-spire.
+
+A wind came with it, a bleak, morning Winter wind which whined as it
+whipped the dry snow from high places and sent it flying across coulee
+and valley in the grey light of dawn. Nothing stirred with the coming of
+daylight. No nocturnal animal, warned of the day's coming, slunk away to
+its cave; no beast or bird of daylight greeted the morning with movement
+or song. The grey half-light revealed no living thing of life upon the
+exposed hump of the ridge.
+
+The sun came, a ball of dull red, rising over the timber line. It
+touched the topmost spires of rock, sought to gild them rosily, gave up
+as their sullen sides refused to take the colour, and turned its rays
+along the eastern slope. Then something moved. A single speck of life
+stirred in the vast scene of desolation.
+
+On the bare ground in the lea of a boulder a man sat with his back to
+the stone and slept. His face was hollow and lined. The corners of his
+mouth were drawn down as if a weight were hung on each of them, and the
+thin cheeks, hugging the bones so tightly that the teeth showed through,
+told that the man had driven himself too far on an empty stomach. Yet,
+even in sleep, there was a hint of a sardonic smile on the misshapen
+lips, a smile that condemned and made naught the pain and cruelty of his
+fate.
+
+The sun crept down the slope of Hog-Back Ridge and found him. It reached
+his eyes. Its rays had no more warmth than the rays of the cold Winter
+moon, but its light pierced through the tightly drawn lids. They
+twitched and finally parted. Reivers awoke without yawning or moving and
+looked around.
+
+It was the second morning after his flight from Cameron-Dam Camp, and he
+had yet to reach the Winter camp of the people of Tillie the squaw.
+Somewhere to the west it lay. He would reach it and reach it in good
+time, he swore; but he had not had a bite of food in his mouth for two
+days, and the fever of his wound had sapped heavily his strength.
+
+"Be still, Body," he growled, as with the return of consciousness his
+belly cried out for food. "You will be fed before life goes out of you."
+
+He rose slowly and stiffly to his knees and looked down the ridge to
+where the rays of the sun now were illumining the snow-covered bottom of
+the valley below. The valley ran eastward for a mile or two, and at
+first glance it was empty and dead, save for the flurries of wind-swept
+snow, dropping down from the heights above. But Reivers, as he rose to
+his feet, swept the valley with a second glance, and suddenly he dropped
+and crouched down close to the ground.
+
+Far down at the lower end of the valley a black speck showed on the
+frozen snow, and the speck was moving.
+
+Reivers lay on the bare patch of ground, as silent and immovable as the
+rock above him. The speck was too large to be a single animal and too
+small to be a pack of travelling caribou.
+
+For several minutes he lay, scarcely breathing, his eyes straining to
+bring the speck into comprehensible shape. His breath began to come
+rapidly. Presently he swore. The speck had become two specks now, a long
+narrow speck and a tiny one which moved beside it, and they were coming
+steadily up the valley toward where he lay.
+
+"One man and a dog-team," mused Reivers. "He won't be travelling here
+without grub. Body, wake up! You are crying for food. Yonder it comes.
+Get ready to take it."
+
+Slowly, with long pauses between each movement, and taking care not to
+place his dark body against the white snow, Reivers dragged himself
+around to a hiding-place behind the boulder against which he had slept.
+The sun had risen higher now. Its rays were lighting the valley, and as
+he peered avidly around one side of the stone, Reivers could make out
+some detail of the two specks that moved so steadily toward him.
+
+It was a four-dog team, travelling rapidly, and the man, on snow-shoes,
+travelled beside his team and plied his whip as he strode. Reivers'
+brows drew down in puzzled fashion. The sledge which whirled behind the
+running dogs seemed flat and unloaded; the dogs ran in a fashion that
+told they were strong and fresh. Why didn't the man ride?
+
+Reivers drew back to take stock of the situation. The man might be a
+stranger, travelling hurriedly through the Dead Lands, or he might be
+one of the men from Cameron-Dam Camp. If the former, food might be had
+for a mere hail and the asking; if the latter--Reivers's nostrils widened
+and he smiled.
+
+Yet a third possibility existed. The man was travelling in strange
+fashion, running beside an apparently empty sled, and whipping his dogs
+along. So did men travel when they were fleeing from various reasons,
+and men fleeing thus do not go unarmed nor take kindly to having the
+trail of their flight witnessed by casual though starving strangers.
+Thus there was one chance that a hail and plea for food would be met
+with a friendly response; two chances that they would be met with lead
+or steel.
+
+Reivers, not being a careless man, looked about for ways and means to
+place the odds in his favour. A hundred yards to the north of him the
+valley narrowed into a mere slit between two straight walls of rock.
+Through this gap the traveller must pass.
+
+When Reivers had crawled to a position on the rock directly above the
+narrow opening, he lay flat down and grinned in peace. He was securely
+hidden, and the dog-driver would pass unsuspectingly, unready, thirty
+feet beneath where he lay. Things were looking well.
+
+The driver and team came on at a steady pace. Even at a great distance,
+his stride betrayed his race and Reivers muttered, "White man," and
+pushed to the edge of the bluff a huge, jagged piece of rock. The man
+might not listen to reason, and Reivers was taking no chances of
+allowing an opportunity to feed to slip by.
+
+The sleigh still puzzled him. As it came nearer and nearer he saw that
+it was not empty. Something long and flat lay upon it. Reivers ceased to
+watch the driver and turned his scrutiny entirely to the bundle upon the
+sleigh. Minute after minute he watched the sleigh to the exclusion of
+everything else.
+
+He made out eventually that the bundle was the size and form of a human
+body. Soon he saw that it moved now and then, as if struggling to rise.
+
+The sleigh came nearer, came into a space where the sunlight, streaming
+through a gap in the ridge, lighted it up brightly, and Reivers' whole
+body suddenly stiffened upon the ground and his teeth snapped shut
+barely in time to cut short an ejaculation of surprise.
+
+The bundle on the sleigh was a woman--a white woman! And she was bound
+around from ankle to forehead with thongs passed under the sleigh.
+
+"Food--and a woman--a white woman," he mused. "The new life becomes
+interesting. Body, get ready."
+
+He held the rock balanced on the edge of the cliff, ready to hurl it
+down with one supreme effort of his waning strength. Hugging the cliff
+he lay, his head barely raised sufficiently to watch his approaching
+quarry. He could make out the face of the man by this time, a square
+face, mostly covered with hair, with the square-cut hair of the head
+hanging down below the ears. Two fang-like teeth glistened in the
+sunlight when the man opened his mouth to curse at the dogs, and he
+turned at times to leer back at the helpless burden on the sleigh.
+
+As he approached the narrow defile, where the rock walls hid a man and
+what he might do from the eyes of all but the sky above, the man turned
+to look more frequently, more leeringly at his victim. Reivers saw that
+the woman was gagged as well as bound.
+
+The driver shouted a command at his dogs, and their lope became a walk,
+and even as Reivers, up on the cliff, arched his back to hurl his stone,
+the outfit came to a halt directly beneath where he lay. Reivers waited.
+He had no compunction about disabling or killing the man below; a crying
+belly knows no conscience. But he would wait and see what was to
+develop.
+
+The man swiftly jerked his team back in the traces and turned toward his
+victim. Reivers, turning his eyes from the man to the woman, received a
+shock which caused him to hug closer to the cliff. The woman lay
+helpless on the sleigh, face up. A cloth gag covered her face up to the
+nose, and a cap, drawn down over the forehead, left only the eyes and
+nose visible. And the eyes were wide open--very wide open--and they were
+looking quite calmly and unafraid up at Reivers.
+
+The driver came back and tore the gag from the woman's lips.
+
+"I'll give you a chance," he exploded, and Reivers, up on the cliff,
+caught the passion-choked note in voice and again held the stone ready.
+"I'm stealing you for the chief--for Shanty Moir, the man who's got your
+father's mine, and who's determined to put shame on you, Red MacGregor's
+daughter. I'm taking you there to him--in his camp. You know what that
+means.
+
+"Well, I've changed my mind. I--I'll give you a chance. I'll save you.
+Come with me. I won't take you up there. We'll go out of the country.
+You know what it'd mean to go up there. Well,--I'll marry you."
+
+Many things happened in the next few seconds. The man threw himself like
+a wild beast beside the sledge, caught the woman's face in his hands and
+kissed her bestially upon the helpless lips.
+
+The girl did not struggle or cry out. Only her wide eyes looked up to
+the top of the cliff, looked questioningly, speculatively, calmly. He of
+the hairy face caught the direction of her look and sprang up and
+whirled around, the glove flying from his right hand, and a six-shooter
+leaping into it apparently from nowhere.
+
+His face was upturned, and he fired even as the big rock smote him on
+the forehead and crushed him shapelessly into the snow. Reivers dragged
+forward another stone and waited, but the man was too obviously dead to
+render caution necessary.
+
+"He was experienced and quick," said Reivers to the woman, "but I was
+too hungry to miss him. Did you think I did it to save you? Oh, no! Just
+a minute, till I get down; you'll know me better."
+
+He staggered and fell as he rose to pick his way down, for the cast with
+the heavy stone had tapped the last reservoirs of his depleted strength,
+had wrenched open the wounded shoulder and started the blood. Painfully
+he dragged himself on hands and knees to a snow-covered slope, and
+slipping and sliding made his way to the valley-bottom and came
+staggering up to the sledge. The woman to him for the time being did not
+exist.
+
+"Steady, Body," he muttered, as he tore open the grub-bag on the sleigh.
+"Here's food."
+
+His fingers fell first on a huge chunk of cooked venison, and he looked
+no farther. Down in the snow at the side of the helpless woman he
+squatted and proceeded to eat. Only when the pang in his stomach had
+been appeased did he look at the woman. Then, for a time, he forgot
+about eating.
+
+It was not a woman but a girl. Her face was fair and her hair golden
+red. Her big eyes were looking at him appraisingly. There was no fear in
+them, no apprehension. She noted the hollowness of his cheeks, the fever
+in his eyes. Reivers almost dropped his meat in amazement. The girl
+actually was pitying him!
+
+He stood up, thrust the meat back into the grub-bag and stood swaying
+and towering over her. The girl's eyes looked back unwaveringly.
+
+"---- you!" growled Reivers as he bent down and loosed the thongs. "What
+do you mean? Why aren't you afraid?"
+
+"MacGregor Roy was my father," she said quietly. "I am not afraid." She
+sat up as the bonds fell from her and looked at the still figure in the
+snow. "He is dead, I suppose?"
+
+"As dead as he tried to make me," sneered Reivers.
+
+A look of annoyance crossed her face.
+
+"Then you have spoiled it all," she broke out, leaping from the sledge.
+"Spoiled the fine chance I had to find the cave of Shanty Moir, murderer
+of my father."
+
+Reivers' jaw dropped in amazement, and hot anger surged to his tongue.
+Many women of many kinds he had looked in the eyes and this was the
+first one--
+
+"Spoiled it, you red-haired trull! What do you mean? Didn't I save you
+from our bearded friend yonder. Or--" his thin lips curled into their old
+contemptuous smile--"or perhaps--perhaps you are one of those to whom such
+attentions are not distasteful."
+
+The sudden flare and flash of her anger breaking, like lightning out of
+a Winter's sky, checked his words. The contempt of his smile gave place
+to a grin of admiration. Tottering and wavering on his feet, he did not
+stir or raise his arms, though the thin-bladed knife which seemed to
+spring into her hands as claws protrude from a maddened cat's paws,
+slipped through his mackinaw and pricked the skin above his heart,
+before her hand stopped.
+
+"'Trull' am I? The daughter of MacGregor Roy is a helpless squaw who
+takes kindly to such words from any man on the trail? Blood o' my
+father! Pray, you cowardly skulker! Pray!"
+
+His grin grew broader.
+
+"Pretty, very pretty!" he drawled. "But you can't make it good, can you?
+You thought you could. Your little flare of temper made you feel big.
+You were sure you were going to stick me. But you couldn't do it. You're
+a woman. See; your flash of bigness is dying out. You're growing tame.
+That's one of my specialties--taming spitfires like you. Oh, you needn't
+draw back. Have no fear. I never did have any taste for red hair."
+
+A painter would have raved about the daughter of MacGregor Roy as she
+now stood back, facing her tormentor. The fair skin of her face was
+flushed red, the thin sharp lines of mouth and nostril were tremulous
+with rage, and her wide, grey eyes burned. Her head was thrown back in
+scorn, her cap was off; the glorious red-golden hair of her head seemed
+alive with fury. With one foot advanced, the knife held behind her, her
+breath coming in angry gasps, she stood, a figure passionately, terribly
+alive in the dead waste of the snows.
+
+"Oh, what a coward you are!" she panted. "You knew I couldn't avenge
+myself on a sick man. You coward!"
+
+Reivers laughed drunkenly. The fever was blurring his sight, dulling his
+brain and filling him with an irresistible desire to lie down.
+
+"Yes, I knew it," he mumbled. "I saw it in your eye. You couldn't do
+it--because I didn't want you to. I want you--I want you to fix me up--hole
+in the shoulder--fever--understand?"
+
+"I understand that when Duncan Roy, my father's brother, catches up with
+us he will save me the trouble by putting a hole through your head."
+
+"Plenty of time for that later on." Reivers fought off the stupor and
+held his senses clear for a moment. "Have you got my whisky?"
+
+"And what if I have?"
+
+"Answer me!" he said icily. "Have you?"
+
+"Duncan Roy has whisky," she replied reluctantly. "He will be on our
+trail now."
+
+"How long--how long before he'll get here?"
+
+"Yon beast--" she nodded her head toward the still figure in the
+snow--"raided our camp, struck me down and stole me away with my team two
+hours before sundown, yestere'en. Duncan Roy was out meat-hunting, and
+would be back by dark. He'll be two hours behind us, and his dogs travel
+even with these."
+
+"Two hours? Too long," groaned Reivers and pitched headlong into the
+snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV--THE WOMAN'S WAY
+
+
+When he came to, it was from the bite and sting of the terrible white
+whisky of the North, being poured down his throat by a rude, generous
+hand.
+
+"Aye; he's no' dead," rumbled a voice like unto a bear's growl. "He
+lappit the liquor though his eye's closed. Hoot, man! Ye take it in like
+mother's milk."
+
+"Have done, Uncle Duncan," warned another voice--the bold, free voice of
+the girl, Reivers in his semi-consciousness made out. "'Tis a sick man.
+Don't give him the whole bottle."
+
+"Let be, let be," grumbled the big voice, but nevertheless Reivers felt
+the bottle withdrawn from his lips. "'Tis no tender child that a good
+drink of liquor would hurt that we have here. Do you not note that mouth
+and jaw? I'm little more pleased with the look of him than with yon
+thing in the snow."
+
+"'Tis a sick, helpless being," said the girl.
+
+The big voice rumbled forth an oath.
+
+"And what have we--you and I--to do with sick, helpless beings? Are we not
+on the trail to find Shanty Moir, who is working your father's mine,
+wherever it is, and there take vengeance on said Shanty for your
+father's murder, as well as recover your own property? Is this a trail
+on which 'tis fit and well we halted to nurse and care for sick,
+helpless beings? Blood of the de'il! An unlucky mess! What business has
+man to be sick and ailing on the Winter trail here in the North? 'Tis
+the law of Nature that such die!"
+
+"And do you think that law will be followed here?" demanded the girl.
+
+"Were I alone, it would," retorted the man. "Our task is to find the
+place of Shanty Moir and do him justice."
+
+"And the hospitality of the MacGregors? Is it like Duncan Roy to see
+beast or man needing or wanting help without stretching his hand to help
+it?"
+
+The man was silent.
+
+"Do you think any good could come to you or me if we turned our hearts
+to stones and let a sick man perish after he had fallen helpless on our
+hands?"
+
+"I tell you what I think, Hattie MacGregor," broke out the big voice. "I
+think there is trouble travelling as trail-fellow with this man. I see
+trouble in the cut of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. There is a
+fate written there; he's a fated man and no else, and nothing would
+please me better than to have him a thousand days mushing away from me
+and never to see him again. Trouble and trouble! It's written on him
+plain.
+
+"Who is he? Whence came he? Why is he alone, dogless, foodless,
+weaponless, here in these Dead Lands! 'Tis uncanny. Blood o' the de'il!
+He might be dropped down from somewhere, or more like shot up from
+somewhere--from the black pit, for instance. It's no' proper for mere
+human being to be found in his condition out this far on the barrens,
+with no sign of how he came or why?"
+
+"Have no fear, Uncle Duncan," laughed the girl. "He's only a common
+man."
+
+Reivers opened his eyes, chuckling feverishly.
+
+"You'll pay for that 'common,' you spitfire, when I've tamed you," he
+mumbled.
+
+"Only a common man, Uncle Duncan," repeated the girl steadfastly, "and
+I've a bone to pick with him when he's on his feet, no longer helpless
+and pitiable as he is now."
+
+Again Reivers laughed through the haze of fever. He did not have the
+strength to hold his eyes open, but his mind worked on.
+
+"Helpless! Did you notice the incident of the rock?" he babbled. "Bare,
+primitive, two-handed man against a man with a gun. Who won?"
+
+"Aye," said the man seriously, "we owe you thanks for that. For a
+helpless man, you deal stout knocks."
+
+"And speak big words," snapped the girl. "Now, around with the teams,
+Uncle Duncan, and back to camp. There's been talk enough. We must take
+him in and shelter and care for him, since he has fallen helpless and
+pitiable on our hands. We owe him no thanks. Can you not lay his head
+easier--the boasting fool! There; that's better. Now, all that the dogs
+can stand, Uncle, for I misdoubt we'll be hard-pressed to keep the life
+in him till we get him back to camp."
+
+Reivers heard and strove to reply. But the paralysis of fever and
+weakness was upon him, and all that came from his lips was an incoherent
+babbling. In the last vapoury stages of consciousness he realised that
+he was being placed more comfortably upon the sledge, that his head was
+being lifted and that blankets were being strapped about him.
+
+He felt the sledge being turned, heard the runners grate on the snow;
+then ensued an easy, sliding movement through space, as the rested dogs
+started their lope back through the valley. The movement soothed him. It
+lulled him to a sensation of safety and comfort.
+
+The phantasmagoria of fever pounded at his brain, his eyes and ears, but
+the steady, swishing rush of the sleigh drove them away. He slept, and
+awoke when a halt was called and more whisky forced down his throat.
+Then he slept again.
+
+There were several halts. Once he realised that he was being fed thin
+soup, made from cooked venison and snow-water. That was the last
+impression made on remaining consciousness. After that the thread
+snapped.
+
+The sledges went on. They left the valley. Through the jumbled ridges of
+the Dead Lands they hurried. They reached a stretch of stunted fir, and
+still they continued to go. At length they pulled up before a solid
+little cabin built in a cleft of rocks.
+
+The Snow Burner was carried in and put to bed. After a rest Duncan Roy
+and the fresher of the dogteams took the trail again. They came, back
+after a day and a night, bringing with them a certain Pere Batiste,
+skilled in treating fevers and wounds of the body as well as of the
+soul. The good cure gasped at the torso which revealed itself to his
+gaze as he stripped off the clothes to work at the wound.
+
+"If le bon Dieu made him as well inside as outside, this is a very good
+man," he said simply; and Duncan MacGregor smiled grimly.
+
+"God--or the de'il--made him to deal stout knocks, that's sure," he
+grunted. "'Tis a rare animal we have stripped before us."
+
+"A rare human being--a soul," reproved Father Batiste. "And it is le bon
+Dieu who makes us all."
+
+"But the de'il gets hold of some very young," insisted the Scotchman.
+
+Father Batiste stayed in the cabin for two days.
+
+"He was not meant to die this time," he said later. "It will be
+long--weeks perhaps--before he will be strong enough to take the trail. He
+will need care, such care as only a woman can give him. If he does not
+have this care he will die. If he does have it he will live. Adieu, my
+children; you have a sacred, human life in your hands."
+
+And he got the care that only a woman could give him. For the next two
+weeks Duncan MacGregor watched his niece's devoted nursing and gnawed
+his red beard gloomily.
+
+"Trouble--trouble--trouble!" he muttered over and over to himself. "It
+rides around the man's head like a storm-cap. Hattie MacGregor, take
+care. Yon man will be a different creature to handle when he has the
+strength back in his body."
+
+At the end of a week Reivers awoke as a man wakes after a long,
+fever-breaking slumber, weak and wasted, yet with a grateful sense of
+comfort and well-being. Before he opened his eyes he sensed by the
+warmth and odours of the air that he was in a small, tight room, and in
+a haze he fancied that he had fallen in the tepee of Tillie, the squaw.
+Then he remembered. He opened his eyes.
+
+He was lying in a bunk, raised high from the floor, and above the foot
+of the bed was a small window, shaded by a frilled white curtain.
+Reivers lay long and looked at the curtain before his eyes moved to
+further explore the room. For once, long, long ago, he had belonged in a
+world where white frilled curtains and frills of other kinds were not an
+exception.
+
+In his physically washed-out condition his memory reached back and
+pictured that world with uncanny clearness, and he turned from the
+curtain with a frown of annoyance to look straight into the eyes of
+Duncan Roy, who sat by the fireplace across the room and studied him
+from beneath shaggy red brows.
+
+Reivers looked the man over idly at first, then with a considerable
+interest and appreciation. Sitting crouched over on a low stone bench,
+with the light of the fire and of the sun upon him, MacGregor resembled
+nothing so much as an old red-haired bear. He was short of leg and
+bow-legged, but his torso and head were enormous. His arms, folded
+across the knees, were bear-like in length and size, and his hair and
+beard flamed golden red.
+
+There was no friendliness in the small, grey eyes which regarded Reivers
+so steadily. Duncan MacGregor was no man to hide his true feelings.
+Reivers looked enquiringly around.
+
+"She's stepped outside to feed the dogs," said MacGregor, interpreting
+the look. "You'll have to put up with my poor company for the time
+being."
+
+"I accept your apology," said Reivers and turned comfortably toward the
+wall.
+
+A deep, chesty chuckle came from the fireside.
+
+"Man, whoever are you or whatever are you, to take it that Duncan
+MacGregor feels any need to apologise to you?"
+
+The words were further balm to Reivers's new-found feeling of comfort
+and content.
+
+"Say that again, please," he requested drowsily.
+
+Laughingly the giant by the fire repeated his query.
+
+"Good!" murmured Reivers. "I just wanted to be sure that you didn't know
+who I am--or, rather, who I was?"
+
+"Blood o' the de'il!" laughed the Scotchman. "So it's that, is it? Tell
+me, how much reward is there offered for you, dead or alive? I'm a
+thrifty man, lad, and you hardly look like a man who'd have a small
+price on his head."
+
+"Wrong, quite wrong, my suspicious friend," said Reivers. "I see you've
+the simple mind of the man who's spent much time in lone places. You
+jump at the natural conclusion. When you know me better you'll know that
+that won't apply to me."
+
+"Well," drawled the Scotchman good-naturedly, "I do not say that it
+looks suspicious to be found a two-days' march out in the Dead Lands,
+without food, dog, or weapons, with an empty belly and a hole through
+the shoulder, but there are people who might draw the conclusion that a
+man so fixed was travelling because some place behind him was mighty bad
+for his health. But I have no doubt you have an explanation? No doubt
+'tis quite the way you prefer to travel?"
+
+"Under certain circumstances, it is," said Reivers.
+
+"Aye; under certain circumstances. Such as an affair with a 'Redcoat,'
+for instance."
+
+"Wrong again, my simple-minded friend. You're quite welcome to bring the
+whole Mounted Police here to look me over. I'm not on their lists, or
+the lists of any authority in the world, as 'wanted.'"
+
+"For that insult--that I'm of the kind that bears tales to the
+police--I'll have an accounting with you later on," said MacGregor
+sharply. "For the rest--you'll admit that you're under some small
+obligation to us--will you be kind enough to explain what lay behind you
+that you should be out on the barrens in your condition? I'll have you
+know that I am no man to ask pay for succouring the sick or wounded.
+Neither am I the man to let any well man be near-speaking with my ward
+and niece, Hattie MacGregor, without I know what's the straight of him."
+
+Reivers turned luxuriously in his bunk and regarded his inquisitor with
+a smile.
+
+"Poor, dainty, helpless, little lady!" he mocked. "So weak and frail
+that she needs a protector. Never carries anything more than an
+eight-inch knife up her sleeve. You do right, MacGregor; your niece
+certainly needs looking after. She certainly doesn't know how to take
+care of herself.
+
+"But about obligations, I don't quite agree with you. Didn't you owe me
+a little something for that turn with the bearded fellow? Not that I did
+it to save the girl," he continued loudly, as he heard the door open
+behind him and knew that Hattie MacGregor had entered. "What was she to
+me? Nothing! But I was hungry. I needed food. But for that our
+black-bearded friend might now have been wandering care-free over the
+snows, a red-haired woman still strapped to his sledge, his taste
+seeming to run to that colour, which mine does not."
+
+Hattie MacGregor stilled her uncle's retort with a shake of her
+golden-red head, crossed to the fireplace and took up a bowl that was
+simmering there, and approached the bed. Reivers looked at her closely,
+striving to catch her eye, but she seated herself beside him without
+apparently paying the slightest attention. She spoke no word, made no
+sign to welcome him back from his unconsciousness, but merely held a
+spoonful of the steaming broth up to his lips.
+
+There was a certain dexterity in her movements which told that she had
+performed this action many, many times before, and there was nothing in
+her manner to indicate her sensibility of the change in his condition.
+Reivers opened his mouth to laugh, and the girl dexterously tilted the
+contents of the spoon down his throat.
+
+"You fool!" he sputtered, half strangling.
+
+He strove to rise, but her round, warm arm held him down. Over by the
+fireplace Duncan MacGregor slapped his thigh and chuckled deep down in
+his hairy throat, but on the face of his niece there was only the
+determined patience of the nurse dealing with a patient not yet entirely
+responsible for his behaviour.
+
+She was not surprised at his outbreak, Reivers saw. Apparently she had
+fed him many times just so--he utterly helpless and childish, she capable
+and calm. Apparently she was determined to sit there, firm and patient,
+until he was ready to take his broth quietly and without fuss.
+
+Indignantly he raised his hands to take the bowl from her; then he
+opened his eyes wide in surprise. He was so weak that he could barely
+lift his arms, and when she offered him a second spoonful he swallowed
+it without further demur.
+
+"Ah, well, we'll soon be able to take the trail again," drawled
+MacGregor mockingly. "We're getting strong now; soon we'll be able to
+eat with our own hands."
+
+"Hold tongue, Uncle," snapped the girl, and continued to feed her
+patient.
+
+"I suppose I must thank you?" taunted Reivers, when the bowl was empty.
+
+Hattie MacGregor made no sign to indicate that she had heard. She put
+the bowl away, felt Reivers' pulse, laid her hand upon his
+forehead--never looking at him the while--arranged the pillows under his
+head, tucked him in and without speaking went out. Reivers' eyes
+followed her till the door closed behind her.
+
+"The little spitfire!" he growled in grudging admiration; and Duncan
+MacGregor, by the fire, laughed till the room echoed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV--GOLD!
+
+
+Next morning when she came to feed him Reivers angrily reached for the
+bowl. He was stronger than the day before, and he held his hands forth
+without trembling.
+
+"There's no need of your feeding me by hand any longer," said he. "I
+assure you I'll enjoy my food much better alone than I do with you
+feeding me."
+
+The girl seated herself at the bunk-side, holding the bowl out of his
+reach, and looked him quietly in the eyes. It was the first time she had
+appeared to notice his return to consciousness, and Reivers smiled
+quizzically at her scrutiny. She did not smile in return, merely studied
+him as if he were an interesting subject.
+
+In the grey light of morning Reivers for the first time saw her with
+eyes cleared of the fever blur. His smile vanished, for he saw that this
+woman, to him, was different from any woman he ever had known before.
+And he had known many.
+
+In her wide grey eyes there rode a sorrow that reached out and held the
+observer, despite her evident efforts to keep it hidden. But the mouth
+belied the eyes. It was set with an expression of determination, almost
+superhuman, almost savage. It was as if this girl, just rounding her
+twenties, had turned herself into a force for the accomplishment of an
+object. The mouth was harsh, almost lipless, in its set. Yet, beneath
+all this, the woman in Hattie MacGregor was obvious, soft, yearning.
+
+Many women had had a part in Reivers' life--far too many. None of them
+had held his interests longer than for a few months; none of them had he
+failed to tame and break. And none of them had reached below the hard
+husk of him and touched the better man as Hattie MacGregor did at this
+moment. His past experiences, his past attitude toward women, his past
+manner of life, flashed through his mind, each picture bringing with it
+a stab of remorse.
+
+Remorse! The Snow Burner remorseful! He laughed his old laugh of
+contempt and defiance of all the world, but, though he refused to
+acknowledge it to himself, the old, invincible, self-assured ring was
+not in it. This girl was not to him what other women had been, and he
+saw that he could not tame her as he had tamed them.
+
+Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wished that the past had been
+different. He actually felt unworthy. Well, the past was past. It had
+died with him in the river. He was beginning a new life, a new name, a
+new man. Why couldn't he? He drove the weak thoughts away. What
+nonsense! He--Hell-Camp Reivers--getting soft over a woman? Pooh!
+
+"I said I could feed myself," he snarled. "Give me that bowl. I don't
+want you around."
+
+For reply she dipped the spoon into the food and held it ready.
+
+"Lie down quietly, please," she said coldly. "This is no time for
+keeping up your play of being a big man."
+
+"Give me that bowl," he commanded.
+
+"Uncle," she called quietly.
+
+Her big kinsman came lurching in from the other room of the cabin.
+
+"Aye, lass?" said he.
+
+"It looks as if we would have to obey Father Batiste's directions and
+feed him by force," said the girl quietly. "He has come out of the
+fever, but he hasn't got his senses back. He thinks of feeding himself.
+Do you get the straps, Uncle. You recollect Father Batiste's orders."
+
+Duncan MacGregor scratched his hairy head in puzzled fashion.
+
+"How now, stranger?" he growled. "Can you no take your food in peace?"
+
+"I can take it without anybody's help," insisted Reivers. He knew that
+the situation was ridiculous, but he saw no way of getting the
+whip-hand.
+
+"It was the word of the good Father, without whom you would now be
+resting out in the snow with a cairn of rock over you, that you should
+be fed so much and so little for some days after your senses come back,"
+said MacGregor slowly. "I do not ken the right of it quite, but the lass
+does. The lass--she'll have her way, I suspect. I can do naught but obey
+her orders."
+
+"Get the straps," commanded the girl curtly.
+
+Reivers glared at her, but she looked back without the least losing her
+self-possession or determination.
+
+"You'll pay for this!" he snorted.
+
+"Will you take your food without the straps?" said she.
+
+For a minute their eyes met in conflict.
+
+"Oh, don't be ridiculous," snapped Reivers. "Have your silly way."
+
+"Good. That's a good boy," she said softly; and Duncan Roy ran from the
+room choking.
+
+"You see," she continued, as he swallowed the first spoonful, "it isn't
+always possible to have your own way, is it? I am doing this only for
+your own good."
+
+"Hold your tongue," he growled. "I've got to eat this food, but I don't
+have to listen to your talk."
+
+"Quite right," she agreed, and the meal was finished in silence.
+
+At noon she fed him again, without speaking a word. Apparently she had
+given her uncle orders likewise to refrain from talking to Reivers, for
+not a word did he speak during the day.
+
+In the evening the same silent feeding took place. After she and her
+uncle had supped, they drew up to the fireplace, where, in silence,
+Duncan repaired a dog-harness while the girl sewed busily at a fur coat.
+At short intervals the uncle cast a look toward Reivers' bunk, then
+choked a chuckle in his beard, each chuckle bringing a glance of reproof
+from his niece.
+
+"No, Hattie," MacGregor broke out finally, "I cannot hold tongue any
+longer. Company is no' so plentiful in the North that we can sit by and
+have no speech. Do you keep still if you wish--I must talk. Stranger, are
+you going to tell me about yoursel', as I asked you yestereve?"
+
+"Does her Royal Highness, the Red-Headed Chieftainess, permit me to
+speak?" queried Reivers sarcastically.
+
+"'Twas your own sel' told me to hold tongue," said the girl evenly,
+without looking up. "I am glad to see you are reasonable enough to give
+in."
+
+"Let be, Hattie," grumbled the old man. "He's our guest, and we in his
+debt. Stranger, who are you?"
+
+"Nobody," said Reivers.
+
+"Ah!" cried the girl. "Now he's come to his senses, sure enough."
+
+"Hattie!" said the old man ominously. "I beg pardon for her uncivility,
+stranger."
+
+"Never mind," said Reivers lightly. "Apparently she doesn't know any
+better. Speaking to you, sir, I am nobody. I'm as much nobody as a child
+born yesterday. My life--as far as you're concerned--began up there on the
+rocks in the Dead Lands.
+
+"I died just a few days before that--died as effectively as if a dozen
+preachers had read the service over me. You don't understand that.
+You've got a simple mind. But I tell you I'm beginning a new life as
+completely as if there was no life behind me, and as you know all that's
+happened in this new life, you see there's nothing for me to tell you
+about myself."
+
+"You died," repeated the old man slowly. "I'll warrant you had a good
+reason."
+
+"A fair one. I wanted to live. I died to save my life."
+
+"Speak plain!" growled MacGregor. "You were not fleeing from the law?"
+
+"No--as I told you yesterday. The only law I was fleeing from was the
+good old one that cheap men make when they become a mob."
+
+"I tak' it they had a fair reason for becoming a mob?"
+
+"The best in the world," agreed Reivers. "They wanted to kill me. Now,
+why they wanted to do that is something that belongs to my other
+life--with the other man--has nothing at all to do with this man--with
+me--and therefore I am not going to tell you anything about it, except
+this: I didn't come away with anything that belonged to them, except
+possibly my life."
+
+MacGregor nodded sagely as Reivers ended.
+
+"And his own bare life a man has a right to get away with if he can,
+even though it's property forfeited to others," he said. "I suppose you
+have, or had, a name?"
+
+"I did. I haven't now; I haven't thought of one that would please me."
+
+"How would the 'Woman Tamer' suit you?" asked the girl, without pausing
+in her sewing. "You remember you told me one of your specialties was
+taming spitfires like me?"
+
+Reivers smiled.
+
+"I am glad to see that you've become sufficiently interested in me, Miss
+MacGregor, to select me a name."
+
+"Interested!" she flared; then subsided and bent over her sewing. "I
+will speak no more, Uncle," she said meekly.
+
+"Good!" sneered Reivers. "Your manners are improving. And now, Mr.
+MacGregor, what about yourselves, and your brother, and a mine, and a
+man named Moir that I've heard you speak of?"
+
+Duncan MacGregor tossed a fresh birch chunk into the fire and carefully
+poked the coals around it. Outside, the dogs, burrowing in the snow,
+sent up to the sky their weird night-cry, a cry of prayer and protest,
+protest against the darkness and mystery of night, prayer for the return
+of the light of day. A wind sprang up and whipped dry snow against the
+cabin window, and to the sound of its swishing wail Duncan MacGregor
+began to speak.
+
+"Little as you've seen fit to tell about yourself, stranger," he said,
+"'tis plain from your behaviour out on the rocks that you're no man of
+that foul Welsh cutthroat and thief, Shanty Moir. For the manner in
+which you dealt with yon man, we owe you a debt."
+
+"We owe him nothing," interrupted the niece. "Had he not interfered, I
+would have found the way to Shanty Moir."
+
+"But as how?"
+
+"What matter as how? What matter what happens to me if I could find what
+has become of my father and bring justice to the head of Shanty Moir?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+"We owe you a debt," he continued, speaking to Reivers, "and can not
+refuse to tell you how it is with us. It is no pleasant situation we are
+in, as you may have judged. My brother, father of Hattie, is--or was, we
+do not know which--James MacGregor, 'Red' MacGregor so-called in this
+land, therefore MacGregor Roy, as is all our breed. You would have heard
+of him did you belong in this country.
+
+"Ten year ago we built this cabin, he and I, and settled down to trap
+the country, for the fur here is good. Five year ago a Cree half-breed
+gave James a sliver of rock to weight a net with, and the rock, curse it
+forever, was over half gold. The breed could not recall where the rock
+had come from, save that he had chucked it into his canoe some place up
+north.
+
+"James MacGregor stopped trapping then. He began to look for the spot
+where the gilty rock came from. Three years he looked and did not find
+it. Two years ago Shanty Moir came down the river and bided here, and
+Moir was a prospector among other things. Together they found it, after
+nearly two years looking together; for James took this Moir into
+partnership, and that was the unlucky day of his life."
+
+MacGregor kicked savagely at the fire and sat silent for several
+minutes.
+
+"Six months gone they found it," he continued dully, "in the Summer
+time. They came in for provisions--for provisions for all Winter. A
+deposit for two men to work, they said. My brother would not even tell
+me where they found it. The gold had got into his brain. It was his
+life's blood to him. We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder."
+
+He embraced the whole North with a despairing sweep of his long arms and
+continued:
+
+"Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone, to dig out the gold,
+the two of them, my brother, James, and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty
+Moir. For foul he has proven. In three months my brother had promised he
+would be back to say all was well with him. We have had no word, no word
+in these many months.
+
+"But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have heard of him. At Fifty
+Mile, and at Dumont's Camp he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across
+the bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king of the richest
+deposit in the North, and offering to kill any man who offers to follow
+his trail to his holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must mean
+only one thing--the cut-throat Moir has done my brother to death and is
+flourishing on the gold that drew James MacGregor to his doom.
+
+"Well," he went on harshly, "what men have found others can find. We
+have sent word broadcast that we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings,
+and that I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting that
+will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes me the rest of my
+life."
+
+"And mine," interjected the girl hotly. "Shanty Moir is mine, and I take
+toll for my father's life. It's no matter what comes to me, if I can
+bring justice to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my father. My
+hand--my own hand will take toll when we run the dog to earth."
+
+In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully.
+
+"I've a good notion to go hunting this Moir and bring him to you just to
+see if you could make those words good," said he. "With your own hand,
+eh? You'd fail, of course, at the last moment, being a woman, but it
+would almost be worth while getting this Moir for you to see what you'd
+do. Yes, it would be an interesting experiment."
+
+It was the girl's turn to laugh now, her laughter mocking his.
+
+"'Twould be interesting to see what you would do did you stand face to
+face with Shanty Moir," she sneered. "Yes, 'twould be an interesting
+experiment--to see how you'd crawl. For this can be said of the villain,
+Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men to get help from women. You
+bring Shanty Moir in! How would you do it--with your mouth?"
+
+"On second thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make any
+man listen to your tongue," concluded Reivers solemnly.
+
+MacGregor growled and shook his head.
+
+"There's no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black heart is a hard-grown,
+experienced man," said he. "Henchmen of his--three of them, Welshmen
+all--came through here while James and he were hunting the mine, and he
+treated them like dogs and they him like a chieftain. 'Twas one of them
+you slew with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain: Shanty
+Moir has got word to them and they have come to the mine and overpowered
+my brother James. You may judge of the strong hand he holds over his men
+when a single one of them dares to raid my camp in my absence and steal
+the daughter of James MacGregor for his chieftain--a strong, big man.
+'Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He will die hard."
+
+"Also--being of a thrifty breed--you won't feel sorry at getting hold of
+whatever gold he's taken out," suggested Reivers.
+
+"That's understood," said MacGregor, and put a fresh chunk on the fire
+for the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI--THE LOOK IN A WOMAN'S EYES
+
+
+Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had fed him his morning's meal,
+said casually to Reivers:
+
+"You have about six days more to pump my uncle and get all he knows
+about my father's mine. In six days you should be strong enough to
+travel, and so long and no longer do I keep you."
+
+"Six days?" repeated Reivers. "I may take it into my head to start
+before."
+
+"And that's all the good that would do you," she replied promptly. "You
+don't go from here until you are firm on your feet, and that will be six
+days, about."
+
+"Your interest flatters me," he mocked.
+
+"Interest!" Her laugh was bitter. "No stray, wounded cur even goes from
+this camp till he's fit to rustle a living on the trail. I could do no
+less even for you."
+
+"And if I should make up my mind and go?"
+
+"I would shoot you if necessary to keep you here till my duty by you is
+done!"
+
+"You spitfire!" laughed Reivers, hiding the admiration that leaped into
+his eyes. "And what makes you think I'm going hunting for this alleged
+mine when I depart from your too warm hospitality?"
+
+"Pooh! 'Tis easy enough to see that you're that kind--you with your long,
+hungry nose! I was watching you when my uncle babbled away last night.
+You've naught a thing in the world but the clothes you stand in. What
+would you do but go snooping around when you hear of gold? I see it in
+your mean eyes. Well, seek all you please. You're welcome. You'll not
+interfere with our quest. In the first place, you have not the heart to
+stay on the trail long enough to succeed; in the second, you'd
+back-track quick enough did you once come face to face with Shanty
+Moir."
+
+"And you--I suppose this bad man, Shanty Moir, will quail when he sees
+your red hair? Or perhaps you expect to charm him as you charmed the
+gentleman who had you tied on the sledge?"
+
+"I do not know that," she said without irritation. "But I do know that
+my uncle and I will run Shanty Moir to earth, and that he will pay in
+full for the wrong he has done."
+
+"You silly, childish fool!" he broke out. "Haven't you brains enough to
+realise what an impossible wild-goose chase you're on? Since it took
+your father five years to find the mine, you ought to realise that it's
+pretty hard to locate. Since he didn't find it until this Moir, a
+prospector, came to help him, you ought to understand that it takes a
+miner to find it.
+
+"You're no miner. Your uncle is no miner. You've neither of you had the
+slightest experience in this sort of thing. You wouldn't know the signs
+if you saw them. You'll go wandering aimlessly around, maybe walking
+over Shanty Moir's head; because, since nobody has stumbled across his
+camp, it must be so well hidden that it can't be seen unless you know
+right where to look. Find it! You're a couple of children!"
+
+"Mayhap. But we are not so aimless as you may think. We go to Fifty Mile
+and to Dumont's Camp and stay. Sooner or later Shanty Moir will come
+there, to throw my father's gold over the bars and to worse. It may be a
+month, a year--it doesn't make any difference. But I suppose a great man
+like you has a quicker and surer way of doing it?"
+
+"I have," said Reivers.
+
+"No doubt. I could see your eyes grow greedy when you heard my uncle
+tell of gold."
+
+"Oh, no; not especially," taunted Reivers. "The gold is an incident.
+Shanty Moir is what interests me. He seems to be a gentleman of parts.
+I'm going to get him. I'm going to bring you face to face with him. I
+want to see if you could make good the strong talk you've been dealing
+out as to what you would do. You interest me that way, Miss MacGregor,
+and that way only. It will be an interesting experiment to get you
+Shanty Moir."
+
+"Thank Heaven!" she said grimly. "We'll soon be rid of you and your big
+talk. Then I can forget that any man gave me the name you gave me and
+lived to brag about it afterward."
+
+He laughed, as one laughs at a petulant child.
+
+"You will never forget me," he said. "You know that you will not forget
+me, if you live a thousand years."
+
+"I have forgotten better men than you," she said and went out, slamming
+the door.
+
+That evening Reivers sat up by the fire and further plied old MacGregor
+with questions concerning the mine.
+
+"You say that your brother claimed the mine lay to the north," he said.
+"I suppose you have searched the north first of all?"
+
+"For a month I have done nothing else," was the reply. "I have not gone
+far enough north. My brother James said it lay north from here; and
+'twas north he and Shanty Moir went when they started on their last trip
+together, from which my brother did not return or send word."
+
+"Dumont's Camp and Fifty Mile, where Moir's been on sprees; lay to the
+west."
+
+"Northwest, aye. Four days' hard mushing to Fifty Mile. Dumont's
+hell-hole's a day beyond."
+
+"And you think the mine lies to the north of that?"
+
+"Aye. More like in a direct line north of here, for 'twas so they went
+when they left here."
+
+Reivers hid the smile of triumph that struggled on his lips. The Dead
+Lands were strange country to him, but in the land north of Fifty Mile
+he was at home. In his wanderings he had spent months in that country in
+company with many other deluded men who thought to dig gold out of the
+bare, frozen tundra. He had found no gold there, and neither had any one
+else. There was no gold up there, could be none there, and, what was
+more important to him just now, there was no rock formation, nothing but
+muskeg and tundra. The mine could not be up north.
+
+It must, however, be within easy mushing distance of Fifty Mile and
+Dumont's Camp, say two or three days, else Shanty Moir would not have
+hied himself to these settlements when the need for riot and wassail
+overcame him.
+
+"You know the ground between here and Fifty Mile, I suppose?" he said
+suddenly.
+
+"'Tis my trapping-ground," replied MacGregor.
+
+So the mine couldn't be east of the settlements. It was to the west or
+the south.
+
+"Your brother was particularly careful to keep the location of his find
+secret even from you?"
+
+"Aye," said MacGregor sorrowfully. "It had gone to his head, he had
+searched so long, and the find was so big. He took no chances that I
+might know it, or his daughter Hattie; only the thief, Shanty Moir."
+
+And he said that the mine lay to the north. That might mean that it lay
+to the south--west or south of the settlements, there his search would
+lie. It was new country to him, and, as MacGregor well knew before he
+gave him his confidence, a man not knowing the land might wander
+aimlessly for years without covering those vast, broken reaches. But
+MacGregor did not know of the Chippewa squaw, Tillie, and her people.
+
+"And now I suppose you will be able to find it soon," snapped Hattie
+MacGregor, "now that you have pumped my uncle dry?"
+
+"I will," said Reivers. "I'll be there waiting for you when you come
+along." And Duncan MacGregor chuckled deeply.
+
+For the remainder of his stay at the cabin, Reivers maintained a sullen
+silence toward the girl. Had she been different, had she affected him
+differently, he would have cursed her for daring to disturb him even to
+this slight extent. But he knew that if she had been different she would
+not have disturbed him at all. Well, he would soon be away, and then he
+would forget her.
+
+He had an object again. His nature was such that he craved power and
+dominance over men, as another man craves food. He would not live at all
+unless he had power. He had used this power too ruthlessly at
+Cameron-Dam Camp, and it had been wrested from him. For the time being
+he was down among the herd. But not for long.
+
+Shanty Moir had a mine some place south or west of the settlements, and
+the mine yielded gold nuggets and gold dust for Shanty Moir to fling
+across the bars. Gold spells power. Given gold, Reivers would have back
+his old-time power over men, aye, and over women. Not merely a power up
+there in the frozen North, but in the world to which he had long ago
+belonged: the world of men in dress clothes, of lights and soft rugs, or
+women, soft-speaking women, shimmery gowns and white shoulders, their
+eyes and apparel a constant invitation to the great adventure of love.
+
+After all, that was the world that he belonged in. And gold would give
+him power there, and in that whirl he would forget this red-haired,
+semi-savage who looked him in the eye as no other woman ever had dared.
+His fists clenched as his thoughts lighted up the future. The
+Snow-Burner had died, but he would live again, and he would forget,
+absolutely and completely, Hattie MacGregor.
+
+On the morning of the sixth day Duncan MacGregor gravely placed before
+him outside the cabin door a pair of light snowshoes and a grub-bag
+filled with food for four days. Reivers strapped on the snowshoes and
+ran his arms through the bagstraps without a word.
+
+"Stranger," said MacGregor, holding out his hand, "I did not like you
+when first I saw you. I do not say I like you now. But--shake hands."
+
+Reivers hurriedly shook hands and tore himself away. He had resolved to
+go without seeing Hattie, and he was inwardly raging at himself because
+he found this resolution hard to keep. He laid his course for the
+nearest rise of land, half a mile away. Once over the rise the cabin
+would be shut out of sight, and even though he should weaken and look
+back there would be no danger of letting her see.
+
+Bent far over, head down, lunging along with the cunning strides of the
+trained snowshoer, he topped the rise and dropped down on the farther
+side. There he paused to rest himself and draw breath, and as he stood
+there Hattie MacGregor and her dog-team swept at right angles across his
+trail.
+
+She was riding boy-fashion, half sitting, half lying, on the empty
+sledge, driving the dogs furiously for their daily exercise. She did not
+speak. She merely looked up at him as she went past. Then she was gone
+in a flurry of snow, and Reivers went forth on his quest of power with a
+curse on his lips and in his heart the determination that no weakening
+memories of a girl's wistful eyes should interfere with his aim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII--ON THE TRAIL OF FORTUNE
+
+
+Reivers travelled steadily for an hour at the best pace that was in him.
+It was not a good pace, for he was far from being in his old physical
+condition, and the lift and swing of a snowshoe will cramp the calves
+and ankle-tendons of a man grown soft from long bed-lying, no matter how
+cunning may be his stride.
+
+He swore a little at first over his slow progress. He was like a wolf,
+suddenly released from a trap, who desires to travel far, swiftly and
+instantly, and who finds that the trap has made him lame.
+
+Reivers wanted to put the MacGregor cabin, and the scenes about it,
+which might remind him of Hattie, behind him with a rush. But the rush,
+he soon found, threatened to cripple him, so he must perforce give it
+up. The trail that he had set out to make was not one that any man,
+least of all one recently convalescent, could hope to cover in a single
+burst of speed.
+
+He was going to the Winter camp of the people of Tillie, the squaw. The
+camp lay somewhere in the northwest. How far away he did not know; and
+it was no part of his plans to arrive at the camp of the Chippewas
+depleted in energy and resource. The role he had set out to play now
+called for the character of the Snow-Burner at his best--dominant,
+unconquerable. Therefore, when he found that his first efforts at speed
+threatened to cripple him with the treacherous snow-shoe cramp, he
+resigned himself to a pace which would have shamed him had he been in
+good condition. It was poor snow-shoeing, but at the end of an hour he
+had placed between himself and all possible sight of Hattie MacGregor
+the first ragged rock-ramparts of the Dead Lands, and he was content.
+
+On the western slope of a low ridge he unstrapped his snow-shoes and sat
+down on a bare boulder for a rest. His heart throbbed nervously from his
+exertion and his lungs gasped weakly. But with each breath of the crisp
+air his strength was coming back to him, and in his head the brains of
+the Snow-Burner worked as of old. He smiled with great
+self-satisfaction. He was not considering his condition, was not
+counting the difficulties that lay in his path. He was merely picturing,
+with lightning-like play of that powerful mental machinery of his, the
+desperate nature of the adventure toward which he was travelling.
+
+It was desperate enough even to thrill Hell-Camp Reivers. For probably
+never did born adventurer set forth of his own free will on a more
+deadly, more hopeless-looking trail. As he sat on the rock there in the
+Dead Lands, Reivers was in better condition than on his flight from
+Cameron-Dam Camp to this extent: the bullet-hole in his shoulder was
+healed, and, he had recuperated from the fever brought on by exposure
+and exhaustion. That was all. He was still the bare man with empty
+hands. He possessed nothing in the world but the clothes he stood in,
+the food on his back and the gift snow-shoes on his feet.
+
+He had not even a knife that might be called a weapon, for the
+case-knife that old MacGregor had given him upon parting could scarcely
+be reckoned such. In this condition he was setting forth--first, to find
+a cunningly hidden mine; second, to take it and keep it for his own from
+one Shanty Moir, who treated his henchmen like dogs and was looked up to
+as a chieftain.
+
+The Snow-Burner lived again as he contemplated the possibilities of a
+clash with Moir. If what the MacGregors had said was true, Shanty Moir
+was a boss man himself. And as instinctively and eagerly as one
+ten-pronged buck tears straight through timber, swamp and water to
+battle with another buck whose deep-voiced challenge proclaims him
+similarly a giant, so Reivers was going toward Shanty Moir.
+
+He leaped to his feet, with flashing eyes, at the thought of what was
+coming. Then he remembered his weakened condition and sat down again.
+For the immediate present, until his full strength returned, he must
+make craft take the place of strength.
+
+When he was ready to start again, Reivers took his bearings from the
+sun, it being a clear day, and laid his trail as straight toward the
+northwest as the formation of the Dead Lands would allow. He slept that
+night by a hot spring. A tiny rivulet ran unfrozen from the spring
+southward down into the maze of barren stone, a thread of dark, steaming
+water, wandering through the white, frozen snow.
+
+Had he been a little less tired with the day's march Reivers might have
+paid more attention to this phenomenon that evening. In the morning he
+awoke with such eagerness to be on toward his adventure that he marched
+off without bestowing on the stream more than a casual glance. And later
+he came to curse his carelessness.
+
+Bearing steadily toward the northwest, his course lay in the Dead Lands
+for the greater part of the day. Shortly before sundown he saw with
+relief that ahead the rocks and ridges gave way to the flat tundra, with
+small clumps of stunted willows dotting the flatness, like tiny islands
+in a sea of snow.
+
+Reivers quickened his pace. Out on the tundra he hurried straight to the
+nearest bunch of willows. Even at a distance of several rods the chewed
+white branches of the willows told him their story, and he gave vent to
+a shout of relief. The caribou had been feeding there. The Chippewas
+lived on the caribou in Winter. He had only to follow the trail of the
+animals and he would soon run across the moccasin tracks of his friends,
+the Indians.
+
+Luck favoured him more than he hoped for. At his shout there was a crash
+in a clump of willows a hundred yards ahead and a bull caribou lumbered
+clumsily into the open. At the sight of him the beast snorted loudly and
+turned and ran. From right and left came other crashes, and in the
+gathering dusk the herd which had been stripping the willows fled in the
+wake of the sentinel bull, their ungainly gait whipping them out of
+sight and hearing in uncanny fashion.
+
+Reivers smiled. The camp of Tillie's people would not be far from the
+feeding ground of the caribou. He ate his cold supper, crawled into the
+shelter of the willows and went to sleep.
+
+Dry, drifting snow half hid the tracks of the caribou during the night,
+and in the morning he was forced to wait for the late-coming daylight
+before picking up the trail. The herd had gone straight westward, and
+Reivers followed the signs, his eyes constantly scanning the snow for
+moccasin tracks or other evidence of human beings.
+
+In the middle of the forenoon, in a birch and willow swamp, he jumped
+the animals again. They caught his scent at a mile's distance, and
+Reivers crouched down and watched avidly as they streaked from the swamp
+to security.
+
+To the north of the swamp lay the open, snow-covered tundra, where even
+the knife-like fore-hoof of the caribou would have hard time to dig out
+a living in the dead of Winter. To the south lay clumps of brush and
+stunted trees, ideal shelter and feed.
+
+The animals went north. Reivers nodded in great satisfaction. There were
+wolves or Indians to the south, probably the latter. Accordingly he
+turned southward. Toward noon he found his first moccasin track,
+evidently the trail of a single hunter who had come northward, but not
+quite far enough, on a hunt for caribou.
+
+The track looped back southward and Reivers trailed it. Soon a set of
+snow-shoe tracks joined the moccasins, and Reivers, after a close
+scrutiny had revealed the Chippewa pattern in the snow, knew that he was
+on the right track. The tracks dropped down on to the bed of a solidly
+frozen river and continued on to the south.
+
+Other tracks became visible. When they gathered together and made a
+hard-packed trail down the middle of the river, Reivers knew that a camp
+was not far away, and grew cautious.
+
+He found the camp as the swift Winter darkness came on, a group of half
+a dozen tepees set snugly in a bend of the river, one large tepee in the
+middle easily recognisable as that of Tillie, the squaw, chief of the
+band.
+
+Reivers sat down to wait. Presently he heard the camp-dogs growling and
+fighting over their evening meal and knew that they would be too
+occupied to notice and announce the approach of a stranger. Also, at
+this time the people of the camp would be in their tepees, supping
+heavily if the hunter's god had been favourably inclined, and gnawing
+the cold bones of yesterday if that irrational deity had been unkind.
+
+By the whining note in the growls of the dogs, Reivers judged that the
+latter was the case this evening; and when he moved forward and stood
+listening outside the flap of the big tepee he knew that it was so.
+Within, an old squaw's treble rose faintly in a whining chant, of which
+Reivers caught the despairing motif:
+
+    Black is the face of the sun, Ah wo!
+    The time has come for the old to die. Ah wo, ah wo!
+    There is meat only to keep alive the young. Ah wo!
+    We who are old must die. Ah wo! Ah wo! Ah wo!
+
+Any other white man but Reivers would have shuddered at the terrible,
+primitive story which the wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was
+with him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters had given up hopes
+of making a kill.
+
+With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap of the tepee. There
+was no noise. Suddenly the old squaw's wail ceased; those in the tepee
+looked up from their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing inside
+the tepee, the flap closed behind him.
+
+There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw, an old man, two young
+hunters, a young girl, and Tillie. They were gathered around the
+fire-stone in the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie, by
+virtue of her position, had the warmest place and the most fish.
+
+No one spoke a word as they became aware of his presence. Only on
+Tillie's face there came a look in which the traces of hunger vanished.
+Reivers stood looking down at the group for a moment in silence. Then he
+strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and sat down in her place. For
+Reivers knew Indians.
+
+"Feed me," he commanded, tossing his grub-bag to her.
+
+He did not look at her as she placed before him the entire contents of
+the bag. Having served him she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting
+his pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply of cold meat
+that remained of his supply. When he had his fill he tossed small
+portions to the old squaw, the old man and the young girl.
+
+"Hunters are mighty," he mocked in the Chippewa tongue, as the young men
+avidly eyed the meat. "They kill what they eat. The meat they do not
+kill would stick in their mighty throats."
+
+Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side and eat what
+remained.
+
+"Men eat meat," he continued, looking over the heads of the two hunters.
+"Old people and children are content with frozen fish. When I was here
+before there were men in this camp. There was meat in the tepees. The
+dogs had meat. Now I see the men are all gone."
+
+One of the hunters raised his arms above his head, a gesture indicating
+strength, and let them fall resignedly to his side, a sign of despair.
+
+"The caribou are gone, Snow-Burner," he said dully. "That is why there
+is no meat. All gone. The god of good kills has turned his face from us.
+Little Bear--" to the old man--"how long have our people hunted the
+caribou here?"
+
+Little Bear lifted his head, his wizened, smoked face more a black,
+carved mask than a human countenance.
+
+"Big Bear, my father, was an old man when I was born," he said slowly.
+"When he was a boy so small that he slept with the women, our people
+came here for the Winter hunt."
+
+"Oh, Little Bear," chanted the hunter, "great was your father, the
+hunter; great were you as a hunter in your young days. Was there ever a
+Winter before when the caribou were not found here in plenty?"
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said the hunter, "these are the words of Little Bear,
+whose age no one knows. Always the caribou have been plenty here along
+this river in the Winter. Longer than any old man's tales reach back
+have they fed upon the willows. They are not here this Winter. The gods
+are angry with us. We hunt. We hunt till we lie flat on the snow. We
+find no signs. There are men still here, Snow-Burner, but the caribou
+have gone."
+
+"Have gone, have gone, have gone. Ah wo!" chanted the old squaw.
+
+"Where do you hunt?" asked Reivers tersely.
+
+"Where we have always hunted; where our fathers hunted before us," was
+the reply. "Along the river in the muskeg and bush to the south we hunt.
+The caribou are not there. They are nowhere. The gods have taken them
+away. We must die and go where they are."
+
+"We must go," wailed the old squaw. "The gods refuse us meat. We must
+go."
+
+Her chant of despair was heard beyond the tepee. In the smaller tents
+other voices took up the wail. The women were singing the death song,
+their primitive protest and acquiescence to what they considered the
+irrevocable pleasure of their dark gods.
+
+Reivers waited until the last squaw had whined herself into silence.
+Even then he did not speak at once. He knew that these simple people,
+who for his deeds had given him the expressive name of Snow-Burner, were
+waiting for him to speak, and he knew the value of silence upon their
+primitive souls. He sat with folded arms, looking above the heads of the
+two hunters.
+
+"You have done well," he said, nodding impressively, but not looking at
+the two young men. "You have hunted as men who have the true hunter's
+heart. But what can man do when the gods are against him? The gods are
+against you. They are not against me. To-morrow I slay you your fill of
+caribou."
+
+"Snow-Burner," whispered one of the hunters in the awe-stricken silence
+that followed this announcement, "there are no caribou here. Are you
+greater than the gods?"
+
+Reivers looked at him, and at the light in his eyes the young man drew
+back in fright.
+
+"To-morrow I give you your fill of meat," he said slowly. "Not only
+enough for one day, but enough for all Winter. Each tepee shall be piled
+high with meat. Even the dogs shall eat till they want no more. I have
+promised. I alone. Do you--" he pointed at the hunters--"bring me to-night
+the two best rifles in the camp. If they do not shoot true to-morrow, do
+not let me find you here when I return from the hunt. And now the rest
+of you--all of you--go from here. Go, I will be alone."
+
+They rose and went out obediently, except Tillie who watched Reivers's
+face with avid eyes as the young girl left the tepee. Then she crawled
+forward and touched her forehead to his hand, for Reivers had not
+bestowed upon the girl a glance.
+
+Presently the hunters came back and placed their Winchesters at his
+feet. He examined each weapon carefully, found them in perfect order and
+fully loaded, and dismissed the men with a wave of his arm. Tillie sat
+with bowed head, humbly waiting his pleasure, but Reivers rolled himself
+in his blanket and lay down alone by the fire.
+
+"I wish to sleep warm," he said. "See that the fire does not go out till
+the night is half gone. Be ready to go with me in the hour before
+daylight. Have the swiftest and strongest team of dogs and the largest
+sledge hitched and waiting to bear us to the hunt. Go! Now I sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII--THE SNOW-BURNER HUNTS
+
+
+The snarling of dogs being put into harness awoke him in the morning,
+but he lay pretending to sleep until Tillie, having overseen the
+hitching-up, came in, prepared food over the fire, which had not gone
+out all night, and came timidly and laid a hand on his shoulder.
+
+It was pitch dark when they went from the tepee. The dogs whined at the
+prospect of a dark trail, and the hunter who held them plied his whip
+savagely. With the rifles carefully stowed in their buckskin cases on
+the sledge, and a big camp-axe, as their whole burden, Reivers
+immediately took command of the dogs and headed down the river.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" chattered the frozen hunter in disappointment. "There
+are no caribou to the south. It is a waste of strength to hunt there."
+
+"There are no caribou anywhere for you," retorted Reivers. "For me it
+does not make any difference where I hunt; the spirits are with me. Stay
+close to the tepees to-day. If any one follows my trail the spirits will
+refuse their help. Hi-yah! Mush!"
+
+Under the sting of his skilfully wielded whip the big team whirled down
+the river, Reivers riding in front, Tillie behind. But they did not go
+south for long. A few miles below the camp Reivers abruptly swung the
+dogs off the river-bed and bore westward.
+
+Half a mile of this and he shifted and changed his course to right
+angles, straight toward the north.
+
+"And now, mush! ---- you! Mush for all that's in you!" he cried, plying
+the whip. "You've got many miles to cover before daylight. Mush, mush!"
+
+He held straight northward until he left the bush and reached the open
+tundra at the spot where the caribou the day before had swung away
+farther north. He knew that the herd, being in a country undisturbed by
+man, would not travel far from the willows where he had jumped them the
+day before, and he held cautiously on their trail until the first grey
+of daylight showed a rise in the land ahead. Here he halted the dogs and
+crept forward on foot.
+
+It was as he expected. The caribou had halted on the other side of the
+height of land, feeling secure in that region where no man ever came.
+Below him he could see them moving, and he realised that he must act at
+once, before they began their travels of the day.
+
+"Tillie," he whispered, coming back to the sledge, "as soon as you can
+see the snow on the knoll ahead do you drive the dogs around there, to
+the right, and swing to the left along the other side of the knoll.
+Drive fast and shout loud. Shout as if the wolves had you. There are
+caribou over the knoll. When the dogs see them let them go straight for
+the herd. But wait till the snow shows white in the daylight."
+
+Snatching both rifles from their covers, he ran around the left shoulder
+of the knoll and ambushed in a trifling hollow. He waited patiently, one
+rifle cocked and in his hand, the other lying ready at his side. The
+light grew broader; the herd, just out of safe rifle shot, began milling
+restlessly.
+
+Suddenly, from around the right of the knoll, came the sharp yelp of a
+dog as Tillie's leader, rounding the ridge, caught scent and sight of
+living meat ahead. The caribou stopped dead. Then bedlam broke loose as
+the dogs saw what was before them. And the caribou, trembling at the
+wolf-yells of the dogs, broke into their swift, lumbering run and came
+streaking straight past Reivers at fifty yards' distance.
+
+Reivers waited until the maddened beasts were running four deep before
+him. Then the slaughter began. No need to watch the sights here. The
+crash of shot upon shot followed as quickly as he could pump the lever.
+There were ten shots in each rifle, and he fired them all before the
+herd was out of range. Then only the hideous yelps of the maddened dogs
+tore the morning quiet. A dozen caribou, some dead, some kicking, some
+trying to crawl away, were scattered over the snow, and Reivers nodded
+and knew that his hold on Tillie's people was complete.
+
+The dogs were on the first caribou now, snarling, yelping, fighting,
+eating, for the time being as wild and savage as any of their wolf
+forebears. Tillie, spilled from the sledge in the first mad rush of the
+team, came waddling up to Reivers and bowed down before him humbly.
+
+"Snow-Burner, I know you are only a man, because I alone of my people
+have seen you among other white men," she said. "Yet you are more than
+other men. Snow-Burner, I have lived among white people and know that
+the talk of spirits is only for children. But how knew you that the
+caribou were here?"
+
+"The meat is there," said Reivers, pointing at his kill. "Your work is
+to take care of it. The axe is on the sledge. Cut off as many saddles
+and hind-quarters as the dogs can drag back to camp. The rest we will
+cache here. To your work. Do not ask questions."
+
+He reloaded and put the wounded animals out of their misery, each with a
+shot through the head, and sat down and watched her as she slaved at her
+butcher's task. Tillie had lived among white people, had been to the
+white man's school even, but Reivers knew he would slacken his hold on
+her if he demeaned himself by assisting her in her toil.
+
+When the dogs had stayed their hunger he leaped into their midst with
+clubbed rifle and knocked them yelping away from their prey. When they
+turned and attacked him he coolly struck and kicked till they had
+enough. Then with the driving whip he beat them till they lay flat in
+the snow and whined for mercy.
+
+By the time Tillie had the sledge loaded and the rest of the kill cached
+under a huge heap of snow, it was noon, and the dogs started back with
+their heavy load, open-mouthed and panting, their excitement divided
+between fear of the man who had mastered them and the odour of fresh
+blood that reeked in their avid nostrils.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX--THE WHITE MAN'S WILL
+
+
+That night in the camp at the river bend the Indians feasted ravenously,
+and Reivers, sitting in Tillie's place as new-made chief, looked on
+without smiling.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" said the oldest man at last. "What is it you want
+with us? Our furs? Speak. We obey your will."
+
+"Furs are good," replied Reivers, "when a man has nothing else, but gold
+is better, and the gold that another man has is best of all."
+
+The old man cackled respectfully.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner! Do you come to us for gold? Do you think we would sit
+here without meat if we had gold? No, Snow-Burner. What we have you can
+have. Your will with the tribe from the oldest to the youngest is our
+law. We owe you our lives. The strength of our young men is yours; the
+wisdom of our old heads is yours. But gold we have not. Do not turn your
+frown upon us, Snow-Burner; you must know it is the truth."
+
+"Since when," said Reivers sternly, "has my friend, old Little Bear,
+dared say that the Snow-Burner has the foolishness of a woman in his
+head? Do you think I come seeking gold from you? No. It is the strength
+of your young men and the wisdom of your old heads that I want. I seek
+gold. You shall help me find it."
+
+Little Bear raised his arms and let them fall in the eloquent Indian
+gesture of helplessness.
+
+"White men have been here often to seek for gold. The great Snow-Burner
+once was one of them. They have digged holes in the ground. They have
+taken the sand from creek bottoms. Did the Snow-Burner, who finds
+caribou where there are none, find any gold here? No. It is an old
+story. There is no gold here."
+
+Reivers leaned forward and spoke harshly.
+
+"Listen, Little Bear; listen all you people. There is gold within three
+days' march from here. Much gold. Another man digs it. You will find it
+for me. I have spoken."
+
+Silence fell on the tepee. The Indians looked at one another. Little
+Bear finally spoke with bowed head.
+
+"We do the Snow-Burner's will."
+
+Nawa, the youngest and strongest of the hunters, turned to Reivers
+respectfully.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa serves you with the strength of his leg and the
+keenness of his eyes. Nawa knows that the Snow-Burner sees things that
+are hidden to us. Our oldest men say there is no gold here. Other white
+men say there is no gold here. The Snow-Burner says there is gold near
+here.
+
+"The Snow-Burner sees what is hidden to others. Nawa does not doubt.
+Nawa waits only the Snow-Burner's commands. But Nawa has been to the
+settlements at Fifty Mile and Dumont's Camp. He has heard the white men
+talk. They talk there of a man who carries gold like gunpowder and gold
+like bullets, instead of the white man's money.
+
+"Nawa has talked with Indians who have seen this man. They call him
+'Iron Hair,' because his hair is black and stiff like the quills of a
+porcupine. Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa knows nothing. He merely tells what he
+has heard. Is this the man the Snow-Burner, too, has heard of!"
+
+Reivers looked around the circle of smoke-blackened faces about the
+fire. No expression betrayed what was going on behind those wood-like
+masks, but Reivers knew Indians and sensed that they were all waiting
+excitedly for his answer.
+
+"That is the man," he said, and by the complete silence that followed he
+knew that his reply had caused a sensation that would have made white
+men swear. "What know you of Iron Hair, Nawa?"
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa dolefully, "our tribe knows of Iron Hair to
+its sorrow. Two moons ago the big man with the hair like a porcupine was
+at Fifty Mile for whisky and food. He hired Small Eyes and Broken Wing
+of our tribe to haul the food to his camp, a day's travelling each way,
+so he said. The pay was to be big. Small Eyes and Broken Wing went. So
+much people know. Nothing more. The sledges did not come back. Small
+Eyes and Broken Wing did not come back. So much do we know of Iron Hair.
+Nawa has spoken."
+
+"Once there were men in these tepees," said Reivers, looking high above
+Nawa's head. "Once there were men who would have gone from their tepees
+to follow to the end the trail of their brothers who go and do not come
+back. Now there are no men. They sit in the tepees with the women and
+keep warm. Perhaps Small Eyes and Broken Wing were men and did not care
+to come back to people who sit by their fires and do not seek to find
+their brothers who disappear."
+
+"We have sought, oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa hopelessly. "Do not think
+we have only sat by our fires. We sought to follow the trail of Iron
+Hair out of Fifty Mile----"
+
+"How ran the trail?" interrupted Reivers.
+
+"Between the north and the west. We went to hunt our brothers. But a
+storm had blotted out the trail. Iron Hair had gone out in the storm.
+Who can follow when there is no trail to see?"
+
+"Once," resumed Reivers in the tone of contempt, "there were strong
+dog-drivers and sharp eyes here. They would have found the camp of Iron
+Hair in those days."
+
+"Our dogs still are strong, our young men drive well, our eyes are sharp
+even now, Snow-Burner," came Nawa's weary reply. "We searched. Even as
+we searched for the caribou we searched for the camp of Iron Hair. We
+found no camp. There is no white man's camp in this country. There is no
+camp at all. We searched till nothing the size of a man's cap could be
+hidden. The white men from Dumont's Camp and Fifty Mile have searched
+for the gold which white men are mad for. They found nothing. At the
+settlements the white men say, 'This man must be the devil himself and
+go to hell for his gold, because his camp certainly is not in this world
+where men can see it with their eyes.'"
+
+"And the caribou were not in this world, either?" mocked Reivers.
+
+Nawa shook his head.
+
+"White men, too, have looked for the camp of Iron Hair."
+
+"Many white men," supplemented old Little Bear. "White men always look
+when they hear of gold. They find gold if it is to be found. The earth
+gives up its secrets to them. Snow-Burner, they could not find the place
+where Iron Hair digs his gold."
+
+"Nawa and his hunters could not find the caribou," said Reivers.
+
+There was no reply. He had driven his will home.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Nawa, at last, "as Little Bear has said, we do
+your will."
+
+"Good;" Reivers rose and towered over them. "My will at present is that
+you go to your tepees. Sleep soundly. I have work for you in the
+morning."
+
+He stood and watched while they filed, stooped over, through the low
+opening in the tepee wall. They went without question, without will of
+their own. A stronger will than theirs had caught them and held them.
+From hence on they were wholly subservient to the superior mentality
+which was to direct their actions. Reivers smiled. Old MacGregor had
+felt safe in telling about the mine; a strange man had no chance to find
+it. But MacGregor did not know of Tillie's people.
+
+Reivers suddenly turned toward the fire. Tillie was standing there,
+arrayed in buckskin so white that she must have kept it protected from
+the tepee smoke in hope of his coming. At the sight of her there came
+before Reivers' eyes the picture of Hattie MacGregor's face as she had
+looked up at him when he was leaving the MacGregor cabin. The look that
+came over his face then was new even to Tillie.
+
+"You, too, get out!" he roared, and Tillie fled from the tepee in
+terror.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX--ANY MEANS TO AN END
+
+
+In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and cursed himself for
+his weakness. What had happened to him? Was he getting to be like other
+men, that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired girl
+interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had he not sworn to forget? And
+yet here came the memory of her--the wide grey eyes, the suffering mouth,
+the purity of the look of her--rising before his eyes like a vision to
+shame him.
+
+To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He understood the significance
+of the look she had given him, and which had stood between him and
+Tillie. Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing to his better
+self.
+
+His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly that it might have
+come from a bare skull. His better self! If a man believed in things
+like that he had to believe in the human race--had to believe in goodness
+and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and all that silly,
+effeminate rot. Reivers didn't believe in that stuff. He knew only one
+life-law, that of strength over weakness, and that was the law he would
+live and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not interfere.
+
+With his terrible will-power he erased the memory of her from his mind.
+He did not erase the resentment at his own weakness. On the contrary,
+the resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that moment of
+weakness.
+
+There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious mine. One--the way
+he had first planned to follow--was to scatter his Indians, and as many
+others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the country lying to
+the south of Fifty Mile, where he knew the mine must be. Moir, or his
+men, must show themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would
+find Moir's camp.
+
+But there was also a shorter and surer way--a shameful way. Moir, by the
+talk he had heard of him, came to Fifty Mile and Dumont's Camp for such
+whisky and feminine company as might be found. He had even sent one of
+his henchmen to steal Hattie MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was
+desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of the
+would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his man was either killed
+or captured, and that no hope for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir's
+next move would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont's, or to send a man
+there, to procure the means of salving his disappointment. And Reivers
+had two attractive women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who
+was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his momentary weakness.
+The black shamefulness of his scheme he laughed at. Then he went to
+sleep.
+
+He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning.
+
+"Have this tepee and another one loaded on one sledge," he directed.
+"Have a second sledge loaded with caribou meat. Do you and the young
+girl prepare to come with me. We are going on a long journey. You will
+both take your brightest clothes."
+
+He waited with set jaws while his orders were obeyed. No weakness any
+more. There was only one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the
+strong one.
+
+A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, and he strode forth
+to find Nawa, the young hunter, waiting with the two women ready for the
+trail.
+
+"How so?" he demanded. "Did I say aught about Nawa?"
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," whispered Tillie, "Neopa is to be Nawa's squaw with
+the coming of Spring. They wish to go together."
+
+"And I do not wish them to go together," said Reivers harshly. "Give me
+that rifle." He took the weapon from Nawa's hands. "Do you stay here and
+eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of Spring, Nawa."
+
+"Snow-Burner," said Nawa, a flash of will lighting his eyes for the
+moment, "does Neopa come back to me?"
+
+"Perhaps," said Reivers, cocking the rifle. "But if you try to follow
+you will never come back. Is it understood?"
+
+Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa made as if to run to him, but
+Reivers caught her brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He had
+resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter what the cost to others.
+
+"Mush! Get on!" he roared at the dogs, and with the rifle ready and with
+a backward glance at Nawa, he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont's
+Camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI--THE SQUAW-MAN
+
+
+A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian camp, Dumont's Camp had
+something to talk about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went
+through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest of the squaws was a
+beaut'! The old bum hadn't stopped long, just long enough to trade a
+chunk of caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough,
+nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws.
+
+Dumont's Camp opined that it was a good thing for the old cripple that
+he hadn't stayed longer, else he might have found himself minus his
+squaws, especially the young one. But Dumont's Camp would have been
+mightily puzzled had it seen how the limp and stoop went out of the
+squaw-man's body the moment he had left their camp behind, how the
+foolish leer and stuttering speech disappeared from his mouth, and how,
+straight-backed and stern-visaged, he threw the bottle of hooch away in
+contempt and hurried on toward Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers had played many strange parts in his tumultuous life, and his
+squaw-man was a masterpiece. Fifty Mile had its sensation early next
+morning. The half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man with the two extremely
+desirable squaws came through, stopped for another bottle of hooch, and
+drove on and made camp just outside the settlement.
+
+"He certainly was one soft-headed old bum," said Jack Raftery, leaning
+on the packing-case that served as bar in his logcabin saloon. "Yes,
+men, he certainly is bumped in the bean and locoed in his arms. Gimme
+that chunk o' meat there for a bottle o' hooch. 'Bout fifty pounds,
+it'll weigh. I'd give 'im a gallon, but he grins foolish and says:
+'Bottle. One bottle.' 'Drag your meat in,' says I. Well, gents, will you
+b'lieve he couldn't make it. No, sir; paralysed in the arms or
+something.
+
+"That young squaw o' his did the toting. A beaut'? Gents, there never
+was anything put up in a brown hide to touch it. An' that locoed ol' bum
+running 'round loose with it. Tempting providence, that's what he is,
+when he comes parading 'round real men-folks with skirts like them.
+Shouldn't wonder if something'd happen to him one o' these cold days.
+Looks like he might 'a' been an awful good man in his day, too. Well
+built. Reckon he's been used mighty rough to be locoed and crippled up
+the way he is."
+
+"I reck-ong," drawled Black Pete, who ran the games at Raftery's when
+there was any money in sight. "I reck-ong too mebbe he get handle more
+rough some tam ef he's hang 'round long wid dem two squaw. Tha' small
+squaw's too chic, she, to b'long to ol' bum lak heem."
+
+The assembled gents laughed. Had they seen the "ol' bum" at that moment
+their laughter would have been cut short. Reivers, in a gully out of
+sight of the settlement, had thrown away his hooch, pitched camp,
+tethered the dogs and made all secure with a swiftness and efficiency
+that belied the characterisation Black Pete had applied to him. He had
+the two tepees set up far apart, the dogs tied between them, and Tillie
+and Neopa had one tepee, and Reivers the other, alone.
+
+Having made camp, Reivers knew what the boys would expect of him in his
+character of sodden squaw-man. Having resolved to use the most shameful
+means in the world to achieve his end, he played his base part to
+perfection.
+
+"Do you take this chunk of meat," he directed Tillie, "and go down to
+the saloon and get another bottle of hooch. Yes, yes; I know I have
+destroyed one bottle. You are not to ask questions but to obey my
+commands. Go down and trade the meat for hooch. Do not stop to speak to
+the white men. Come, back at once. Go!"
+
+But down in Raftery's the assemblage had no hint of these swift changes,
+and they laughed merrily at Black Pete's remarks.
+
+"What d'you reckon his lay is, Jack?" asked one.
+
+"Booze," replied Raftery instantly. "Nothing else. When you see a man
+who's sure been as good a man in his day as this relic, trailing 'round
+with squaw folks, you can jest nacherlly whittle a little marker for him
+and paint on it, ''Nother white man as the hooch hez got.' Sabbe? I
+trace him out as some prospector who's got crippled up and been laying
+out 'mongst the Indians with a good supply of the ol' frost-bite cure
+'longside of 'im. Nothin' to do but tuh hit the jug offen enough to keep
+from gettin' sober and remembering what he used to was. Sabbe? Been
+layin' out sucking the neck of a jug till his ol' thinker's got twisted.
+
+"I've seen dozens of 'em. You can't fool me when I see one, and I saw
+him when he was comin' through the door. Ran out o' hooch and was afraid
+he'd get sober, so he comes down here to get soaked up some more. Brings
+his load o' meat 'long to trade in, an' these two brown dolls to make
+sure in case the caribou have been down this way, which they ain't. Bet
+the drinks against two bits that he'll be chasin' one o' the squaws down
+here for another bottle before an hour's gone. They all do. I've seen
+his kind before."
+
+Black Pete took the bet.
+
+"Because I'm onlucky, moi, lately, an' I want to lose this bet," he
+explained.
+
+Raftery laughed homerically.
+
+"What's on you' chest, Jack?" demanded one of his friends.
+
+"I was just thinking," gurgled the saloonist, "what 'ud happen in case
+this stiff gent, Iron Hair, was to run in 'bout this time."
+
+"By Gar!" laughed Pete. "An' Iron Hair, he's just 'bout due."
+
+At that moment Tillie came waddling in, laid down her bundle of meat
+before Raftery and said--
+
+"One bottle."
+
+"What'd I tell you?" chuckled Raftery, handing over the liquor. "Boss
+him get laid out, eh?" he said to Tillie.
+
+But Tillie did not pause for conversation. She whipped the bottle under
+her blanket and waddled out without a word.
+
+"Well, I'm a son-of-a-gun!" proclaimed Raftery. "That ol' bum has got
+'em well trained, anyhow."
+
+Black Pete pulled his beard reflectively.
+
+"Come to theenk," he mused aloud, "dere was wan rifle on those sledge. I
+theenk mebbe I no go viseet thees ol' bum, he's camp, teel she's leetle
+better acquaint' weeth moi."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII--THE SCORN OF A PURE WOMAN
+
+
+And Fifty Mile talked. It talked to all who came in from the white
+wastes of the country around. It talked in its tents. It talked while
+trifling with Black Pete's games of no-chance. It talked around
+Raftery's bar. It talked so loudly that men heard it up at Dumont's
+Camp.
+
+From Fifty Mile and Dumont's the talk spread up and down the trails, and
+even out to solitary cabins and dugouts where there were no trails.
+Wherever men were to be found in that desolate region the talk of Fifty
+Mile soon made its way. And the talk was mainly of the young squaw, of
+the old crippled-up squaw-man, and that she was of a beauty to set men's
+heads a-whirling and make them murder each other for her possession.
+
+Men meeting each other on the trails asked three questions in order:
+
+"Where you traveling? How's your tobacco? Heard about the beaut' of a
+little squaw down to Fifty Mile?"
+
+Men travelling in the direction of the settlements bent their steps
+toward Fifty Mile, even though it lay far out of their course. Men
+travelling in the opposite direction passed the news to all whom they
+bespoke. Of those who came to the settlement, many strolled casually up
+the gully where the squaw-man had his camp. And all of them strolled
+down again with nothing to brag about but a drink of hooch and a
+mouthful of talk with the squaw-man.
+
+"I don't quite follow that gent's curves," summed up Jack Raftery,
+speaking for the gang. "He gets enough hooch here to keep any human gent
+laid out twenty-six hours out of the twenty-four, but somehow whenever
+you come moseying up to his camp he's on his pins, ready to give you a
+drink and a lot of locoed talk. Yessir, he sure is locoed until he needs
+a guardian, but for one I don't go to do no rushing of his lady-folks,
+not while he's able to stand on his pins and keep his eyes moving.
+Gents, there's been one awful stiff man in his day, and his condition
+goes to show what booze'll do to the best of 'em, and ought to be a
+warning to us all. Line up, men; 'bout third drink time for me."
+
+"There is sometheeng about heem," agreed Black Pete, "I don't know what
+'tees, but there is sometheeng that whispairs to me, 'Look out!'"
+
+While Fifty Mile thus debated his character, Reivers lay in his tepee,
+carefully playing the shameful part he had assumed. He knew that by now
+the news of his arrival, or rather the arrival of Neopa and Tillie, had
+been bruited far and wide around the settlements. Soon the news must
+come to the ears of the man for whose benefit the scheme had been
+arranged.
+
+Shanty Moir, being what he was, would become interested when he heard
+the descriptions of Neopa, and, also because he was what he was, he
+would waste no time, falter at no risks, stop at nothing when his
+interest had been aroused. Reivers had only to wait. Moir would come.
+The only danger was that Hattie and her uncle might come before him.
+
+On the third day after the squaw-man's arrival, Fifty Mile had a second
+sensation. That morning, as Reivers, staggering artistically, came out
+of Raftery's house of poison, he all but stumbled over a sledge before
+the door. With his assumed grin of idiocy growing wider, he examined the
+sledge carefully, next the team which was hitched to it, then lifted his
+eyes to the man and woman that stood beside the outfit. At the first
+glance he had recognised the sledge, and he needed the time thus gained
+to recover from the shock.
+
+"Hello, Mac, ol' timer!" he bellowed drunkenly at Duncan MacGregor.
+"Come have a drink with me."
+
+MacGregor looked at him dourly, disgust and anger on his big red face.
+Hattie, at his side, looked away, her lips pressed tightly together to
+control the anger rising within her. She had gone deadly pale at the
+first sight of Reivers; now the red of shame was burning in her cheeks.
+
+"I shook hands with you, stranger, when you left our roof," said
+MacGregor gruffly. "I do not do so now. I thought you were a man."
+
+"I never did!" snapped Hattie, still looking away. "I knew it was not a
+man." Something like a sob seemed to wrench itself from her chest in
+spite of her firm lips. "I knew it was--just what it is."
+
+Suddenly she flared around on Reivers, her face wan with mingled pain,
+shame and anger.
+
+"Now you are doing just what you are fit for. I've heard. Living on your
+squaws! And you dared to talk big to me--to a decent woman. Blood of my
+father! You dared to talk to me at all! Drive on, Uncle. We'll go on to
+Dumont's. We'll get away from this thing; it pollutes the air. Hi-yah,
+Bones! Mush, mush, mush!"
+
+Reivers leered and grinned foolishly--for the benefit of the onlookers--as
+the sledge went on out of sight.
+
+"See?" he said boastfully. "I used to know white folks once. Yes sir;
+used to know lot of 'em. Don't now. Only know Indians. S'long, boys; got
+to go home."
+
+All that day he sat alone in his tepee. Tillie came to him at noon with
+food and he cursed her and drove her away. In the evening she came to
+him again, and again Reivers ordered her not to lift the flap on his
+tepee.
+
+Tillie by this time was fully convinced that the Snow-Burner had gone
+mad. Else why had he repulsed all her advances? Why had he refused to
+look at the young and attractive Neopa? And now he even spurned food.
+Yes, the Snow-Burner had gone mad, as white men sometimes go mad in the
+North; but she was still his slave. That was her fate.
+
+Reivers sat alone in his tepee, once more fighting to put away the face
+of Hattie MacGregor as it rode before his eyes, a burning, searing
+memory. He was not faltering. The shame for him, because he was a white
+man, because she had once had him under her roof, that Hattie MacGregor
+had suffered as she saw him now, did not swerve him in the least from
+the way he was going.
+
+He had decided to do it this way. That was settled. The shame and
+degradation of his assumed position he had reckoned and counted as
+naught in the game he was playing. Any means to an end. These same men
+who were despising him for a sodden squaw-man would bow their heads to
+him when the game was won. And he would win it, the memory of the face
+of Hattie MacGregor would not halt him in the least. Rather it would
+spur him on. For when the game was won, he would laugh at her--and
+forget.
+
+For the present it was a little hard to forget. That was why he sat
+alone in the tepee and swore at Tillie when she timidly offered to bring
+him food.
+
+So the red-headed girl thought that of him, did she--that he was living
+on his squaws? Well, let her think it. What difference did it make? She
+thought he was that base, did she? All right. She would pay for it all
+when the time came.
+
+Reivers roused himself and strode outdoors. His thoughts persisted in
+including Hattie MacGregor in their ramblings as he sat in the tepee,
+and he felt oppressed. What he needed was to mingle with other men. He'd
+forget, then. He condemned the company that was to be found at
+Raftery's, but his need for distraction drove him and, assuming the
+stoop, limp and leer of the sodden squaw-man, he slumped off down the
+gully to the settlement.
+
+It was a clear, starlit night, and as he slumped along he mused on what
+a fine night it would be for picking out a trail by the stars. As he
+approached Raftery's he saw and heard evidences of unusual activity in
+the bar. A team of eight dogs, hitched to an empty sledge, was tied
+before the door. Within there was sound of riot and wassail. Over the
+sound of laughter and shuffling feet rose a voice which drowned the
+other noises as the roar of a lion drowns the chirping of birds, a voice
+that rattled the windows in a terrifying rendition of "Jack Hall."
+
+    Oh, I killed a man 'tis said, so 'tis said;
+    I killed a man 'tis said, so 'tis said.
+    I kicked 'is bloody head, an' I left 'im lyin' dead;
+    Yes, I left 'im lyin' dead ---- 'is eyes!
+
+Reivers opened the door and strode in silently and unobserved. He made a
+base, contemptible figure as, stooped and shuffling, a foolish leer on
+his face, he stood listening apologetically to the song. The broad back
+of the singer was turned toward him. As the song ended Raftery's roaming
+eye caught sight of Reivers.
+
+"Ah, there he is; here he is, Iron Hair. There's the man with the squaws
+I was telling you about."
+
+The man swung around, and Reivers was face to face with the man he
+sought, Shanty Moir.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII--SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers' tumultuous scheme of life often had led him into situations
+where his life had hung on his ability to play artistically the part he
+had assumed. But never had his self-control been put to such a test as
+now, when he faced Shanty Moir.
+
+Had he not prepared himself for a shock, his surprise must surely have
+betrayed him, for even the Snow-Burner could not look upon Shanty Moir
+without amazement. To Reivers, the first impression that came was that
+he was looking at something as raw and primitive as the sources of life
+itself.
+
+Shanty Moir had little or nothing in common with the other men in the
+room. He was even shaped differently. He belonged, so it seemed to
+Reivers, to the age of the saber-tooth tiger, the long-haired mammoth,
+and a diet of roots and raw flesh.
+
+There was about him the suggestion of man just risen to the dignity of
+an upright position. His body was enormous--longer, wider, denser than a
+man's body should be; the legs beneath it short and bowed. There was no
+neck that could be seen. His arms seemed to begin close up to the ears,
+and ran downward in curves, like giant calipers, the hands even with the
+knees.
+
+The head fitted the body, squat and enormous, the forehead running
+abruptly back from the brows, and the face so flat and bony that the
+features seemed merely to dent it. The brow-bones came down and half hid
+the small eyes; the nose was small, but a pair of great nostrils ran
+back in the skull; the mouth was huge, yet it seemed small, and there
+was more of the head below it than above.
+
+Iron Hair was well nicknamed. His hair was probably three inches long,
+and it stood out straight from his head--black, wiry, menacing. Reivers,
+with his foolish grin growing larger on his face, appraised Moir with
+considerable admiration. Here was the real thing, the pure,
+unadulterated man-animal, unweakened, untouched by effeminising
+civilisation. This man knew no more law or conscience than the ancient
+cave-tiger, whose only dictates sprang from appetite.
+
+Reivers had rejected morals because it pleased him to run contrary to
+all the rest of the world; this man never knew that right or wrong
+existed. What his appetites told him to take he took as a matter of
+course. And it was written in his face that his appetites were as
+abnormally powerful as was he.
+
+Reivers had been a leader of men because his mind was stronger than the
+minds of the men with whom he had dealt. This man was a leader because
+of the blind, unintelligent force that was in him. And inwardly the
+fighting man in Reivers glowed at the prospects of the Titanic clash
+that would come between them.
+
+Shanty Moir as he looked from under his bony brows saw exactly what
+Reivers wished him to see: a drunken broken squaw-man, so weak that he
+could not possibly be the slightest source of trouble. Being primitive
+of mind he listed Reivers at once as helpless. Having done this, nothing
+could alter his opinion; and Reivers had gained the vantage that he
+sought.
+
+Moir threw back his head and laughed, softly and behind set teeth, when
+his quick inspection of Reivers was ended.
+
+"So that's tuh waster who's got tuh squaws 'at hass tuh camp upset," he
+said languidly. "Eh, sonnies! Art no men among ye that ye have not gone
+woman-stealing by this? Tuh waster does not look hard to take a young
+woman from."
+
+Reivers broke into an apologetic snigger.
+
+"Don't you try to steal my two kids, mister," he whined. "You'd be
+mighty sorry for your bargain if you did."
+
+"How so, old son?" demanded Moir with a tolerant laugh.
+
+"Them kids--if you was to steal them without my permission--one or both of
+'em--they'd make you wish you'd never seen 'em--'less I was along,"
+chuckled Reivers.
+
+"Speak it up, old son," said Moir sharply. "What's behind thy fool's
+words?"
+
+"Them kids--they'd die if they was took away from me," replied Reivers
+seriously. "And they'd take the man who stole 'em to the happy hunting
+ground along with 'em." He winked prodigiously. "Lots of funny things in
+this ol' world, mister. You wouldn't think to look at me that those two
+kids wouldn't want to live if I wasn't with 'em, but that's the fact. I
+wasn't always what I'm now, mister. Once--well, I was different once--and
+them kids will just nacherlly manage to poison the first man who touches
+'em--unless I give the word."
+
+The men of Fifty Mile looked at one another, and Black Pete shuddered.
+
+"The ol' moocher sure has got 'em trained, Iron Hair," said Raftery.
+"He's locoed, but those squaws look up to him like a little tin god, and
+that's no lie."
+
+"Poison?" repeated Moir doubtingly. "Art a medicine man, old son?"
+
+Reivers shook his head loosely.
+
+"Not me, mister, not me," he chuckled. "It's something Indian that I
+don't sabbe. But there's a couple graves 'way up where we came from, and
+they hold what's left of a couple of bad men who raided my camp and
+stole my kids. I don't know how it happened, mister. The kids come back
+to me the same night, and the two bad men were stiff and black--as black
+as your hair, mister, after the first kiss."
+
+"The kiss of Death," chimed in Black Pete, crossing himself. "I have
+heard of eet. Sacre! I am the lucky dog, moi."
+
+Shanty Moir nodded. He, too, had heard of the method by which Indian
+women of the North on rare occasions revenge themselves upon the brutal
+white men who steal them from their people. Having often indulged in
+that thrilling sport himself, Moir was well versed in the obstacles and
+dangers to be met in its pursuit. Being crafty, with the craft of the
+lynx that eschews the poisoned deer carcass, he had thus far managed to
+select his victims from the breed of squaws that do not seriously object
+to playing a Sabine part; and he had no intention of decreasing his
+caution now, although what men had spoken of Neopa had fired his blood.
+
+"Ho, ho! I see how 'tis, old son," he said with a grin of appreciation.
+"Dost manage well for a waster."
+
+He suddenly drew his hand from his mackinaw pocket and held it out,
+opened, toward Reivers. Two jagged nuggets of dull gold the size of big
+buckshot jiggled on his palm, and Moir laughed uproariously as Reivers,
+at the sight of them, bent forward, rubbing his hands together,
+apparently frantic with avarice.
+
+"Eh--hey!" drawled Moir, closing his fist as Reivers' fingers reached for
+the gold. "I thought so. 'Tis tub gold thy wants, eh, old sonny? Well,
+do thee bring me tuh cattle to look at and we'll try to bargain."
+
+"Come up to my camp," chattered Reivers, eying the fist that contained
+the nuggets. He was anxious to get out of the bar. He had no fear that
+the primitive Moir would be able to see any flaw in his acting, but
+Black Pete and Jack Raftery were less primitive, and he knew that they
+had not quite accepted him for the weakling that he pretended to be.
+"Come and visit me. Buy a bottle of hooch and we go up to my camp."
+
+Moir tossed one of the nuggets across the bar to Raftery.
+
+"Is't good for a round, lad?" he laughed.
+
+Raftery cunningly hefted the nugget and set out the bottles.
+
+"Good for two," he replied.
+
+Moir tossed over the second nugget.
+
+"Then that's good for four," said he. "Do ye boys drink it up while I'm
+away to tuh camp of old sonny here. A bottle, Raftery. Now, sonny, do
+thee lead on, and if I'm not satisfied I'll wring thy neck to let thee
+know my displeasure."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV--THE BARGAIN
+
+
+Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir wait a moment by the
+fire, while he spoke to Tillie. "Dress yourself and Neopa in your
+newest," he commanded. "Then do you both come in to me, bringing food
+for two men."
+
+"What's wrong, sonny?" laughed Moir, seeing Reivers come under the door
+flap alone. "Hast lost the whip over thy cattle?"
+
+"They're getting some grub ready," replied Reivers fawningly. "They'll
+be here in a minute. Let's have a drink out of that bottle, mister.
+That's the stuff."
+
+He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the burning liquor in a
+fashion that made even Moir open his eyes in admiration.
+
+"Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster, sonny," he chuckled, and
+measuring with his fingers on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers' he
+tossed it gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the bottle from
+his hand.
+
+"I always take an eye-opener before my real drink," said Reivers, and,
+measuring off twice the amount that Moir had taken, he drank it off like
+so much water.
+
+The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild stimulant. On his
+abnormal organisation it merely had the effect of intensifying his
+characteristics. When he wished to drink whisky he drank--out of
+full-sized water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put liquor
+from him with contempt. Now he handed the bottle back to Moir. The
+latter looked at him and at the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not
+dismayed. Reivers had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to
+him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any man in a
+drinking bout.
+
+"Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, sonny," said Moir, and
+finished the bottle.
+
+"No more?" muttered Reivers vacantly.
+
+"Gallons!" replied Moir. "Whisky enough to drown you dead--if your women
+satisfy."
+
+"Look at them," said Reivers as the door-flap was flung back. "Here they
+are."
+
+Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, her hair
+hanging in two thick braids down her shoulders. Neopa followed, and the
+wistfulness that had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made her
+the more interesting in Shanty Moir's eyes.
+
+A glance from Neopa's fawn-like eyes at the big man whom Reivers had
+brought home with him, and then her eyes sought the ground and she
+trembled. Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the Snow-Burner,
+she had never seen so masterful a man. She looked at Reivers and saw
+that he was not watching her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the
+Snow-Burner's slave; his will was her law. But since he refused to
+notice her smiles it would do no harm to smile upon a man like this Iron
+Hair--just a little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking.
+
+Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to Reivers.
+
+"Take the young one outside for two minutes. I've a word to say to this
+one."
+
+To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust Neopa out before him,
+and dropped the flap.
+
+"Listen," whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue to Tillie, "we will
+put his man out of the way. It is easily done. Then you will go with me,
+you and the young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the young
+one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be on the trail in an hour."
+
+Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head.
+
+"The Snow-Burner is the master," she said seriously. "I will slay the
+man who does him harm. I can not do what he does not wish. I can not go
+away from him."
+
+"But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish."
+
+The smile went from Tillie's full lips and she took a step toward the
+opening.
+
+"Stop," laughed Moir softly. "I merely wished to know if you are a true
+woman. All right, old sonny!" he called. "Come on in."
+
+"I takest off cap to you, lad," he continued as Reivers and Neopa
+re-entered. "Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed." His eyes ran over the
+shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. "Now, old sonny, out with it. What's
+thy idea of tuh bargain?"
+
+Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.
+
+"Said enough," laughed Moir. "Shall have all tuh hooch thy guts can
+hold."
+
+Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
+
+"Hooch is good," said he, "but gold is better."
+
+"Go on," said Moir sullenly.
+
+"You've got gold," continued Reivers. "I saw it. You've got lots of
+gold; I've heard them talk about you down at Raftery's. You want us to
+go with you when you go back to your camp, don't you?"
+
+Moir nodded angrily.
+
+"I want the women," he said brutally. "I might be able to use you, too."
+
+Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.
+
+"You've got to use me if you're going to have the women," he chuckled.
+"You know that by this time, don't you, mister?"
+
+Again Moir's black head nodded in grudging assent.
+
+"What then?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm a handy man around a camp, mister," whined Reivers. "You got to
+take me along if you take the women, but I can be a help----"
+
+"Canst cook?" snapped Moir suddenly.
+
+"Heh, heh! Can I cook?" Reivers rubbed his hands. "I'm an old--I used to
+be an old sour-dough, mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who
+couldn't cook?"
+
+"Might use thee then," said Moir. "My fool of a cook has gone. Sent him
+after a woman for me, and he hasn't come back. Happen he got himself
+killed, tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up without tuh
+woman. Well, then, if that's settled--what's tuh bargain?"
+
+Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In reality the situation
+was very clear to him. Moir had listed him as a weakling; therefore he
+had no fear of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would be
+confident of winning the loyalty of the two women from their apparently
+helpless master. And as it was apparent that the man whom Reivers had
+slain with a rock had been Moir's cook, it was probable that he was
+sincere in his offer to use Reivers in that capacity.
+
+"In the Spring," said Reivers in reply to Moir's question, "me and my
+two kids go north again, back among their own people."
+
+"In the Spring," growled Moir, "canst go to ---- for all of me. I'll be
+travelling then myself. Speak out, sonny. How much?"
+
+"Plenty of hooch for me all Winter," Reivers leered with drunken
+cunning.
+
+"I said plenty," retorted Moir. "What else?"
+
+"Gold," said Reivers, rubbing his hands. "Gold enough to buy me hooch
+for all next Summer."
+
+Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he was dealing with. His
+eyes ran over the plump Tillie, over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
+
+"Done," he laughed. "And now, old son, break up thy camp while I load my
+sledge with hooch. Be ready to travel when I come back. I'll bring
+plenty of liquor, but none to be drinked till we're on the trail. Wilt
+travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But willst have a snug berth
+in my camp when we get there. Yes," he laughed as he hurried out, "wilt
+not be able to tear thyself away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV--THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE
+
+
+Under Reivers' sharp orders--given in a way that would have startled Moir
+had he heard--Tillie and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges with
+their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked them to the traces.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner," said Neopa timidly, "do we go back to Nawa?"
+
+"In good time," said Reivers. "For the present, you have only to obey my
+wishes. Get on the first sledge."
+
+With bowed head the girl took the place directed, and Reivers turned to
+find Tillie smiling craftily at his elbow.
+
+"Snow-Burner," she said softly, "this is the man, Iron Hair, who digs
+the gold which you want. We go to rob him. I understand. You play at
+drinking to fool Iron Hair. It is well. Tillie will help the
+Snow-Burner. We will kill Iron Hair and take his gold. Then the
+Snow-Burner will come with Tillie to her tepee?"
+
+Reivers looked at her, and for the first time he felt a revulsion
+against the base part he was playing. Would he return with Tillie to her
+tepee when this affair was over? Would he go on with his old way of
+living, the base part of him triumphant over the better self? The
+strange questions rapped like trip-hammers on Reivers' conscience.
+
+"Get on the sledge!" he growled, choked with anger.
+
+She did not stir. He struck her cruelly. Tillie smiled. That was like
+the Snow-Burner of old; and she waddled to her appointed place without
+further question.
+
+Up the gulch from Raftery's came Moir quietly leading his dogs, the
+sledge well loaded with cases of liquor.
+
+"Wilt have a kiss first of all," he laughed excitedly, and catching
+Neopa in his arms tossed her in the air, kissed her loudly on her
+averted cheeks and set her back on the sledge. "Now, old son, follow and
+follow quietly. When Iron Hair travels he wants no Fifty Mile gang on
+his trail. Say nothing, but keep me in sight. Heyah, mush, mush!"
+
+Out of the gully he led the way swiftly and silently to the open country
+beyond the settlement. There he circled in a confusing way, bearing
+northward. After an hour he began circling again, doubling on his trail
+to make it hard for any one to follow, but finally Reivers knew by the
+stars that the course lay to the south. Another series of false twists
+in the trail, then Moir struck out in determined fashion on a straight
+course, east and a trifle south from Fifty Mile.
+
+Reivers, silently guiding his dogs in the tracks made by Moir, breathed
+hard as he read the stars. By the pace that Moir was setting it seemed
+certain that he now was making for his camp in a direct line. But if so,
+if this trail were held, it would take them back toward the Dead Lands,
+straight into the country that was Duncan MacGregor's trapping-ground.
+Could the mine be in that region. If so, how could it have escaped the
+notice of the old trapper?
+
+It was well past midnight when Reivers saw the team ahead disappear in a
+depression in the ground and heard Moir's voice loudly calling a halt.
+By the time Reivers came up with his two sledges Moir had unhitched his
+dogs on the flat of a frozen river-bed and was hurriedly dragging a
+bottle from one of the cases on his sledge.
+
+"Hell's fire, old son; unhook and camp. The liquor's dying in me, and I
+had just begun to feel good."
+
+"I was wondering," gasped Reivers in assumed exhaustion. "I was
+wondering how much farther you were going before you opened a bottle."
+
+"Have your squaws get out tuh grub," ordered Moir, jamming down the
+cork. "And now you 'n' me, wilt see who drinks t'other off his feet."
+
+For reply Reivers promptly gulped down a drink that would have strangled
+most men.
+
+"Good enough," admitted Moir. "Here's better, though." And he instantly
+improved on Reivers' record.
+
+The first bottle was soon emptied--a quart of raw, fiery hooch--and a
+second instantly broached.
+
+The food was forgotten by Moir; the women were forgotten. His primitive
+mind was obsessed with the idea of pouring more burning poison down his
+throat than this broken-down waster who dared to drink up to him. Bolt
+upright he sat, laughing and singing, never taking his eyes off Reivers,
+while drink after drink disappeared down their throats.
+
+No movement of Reivers escaped Moir's vigilant watch for signs of
+weakness. As Reivers gave no apparent sign of toppling over he grew
+enraged.
+
+"Hell's fire! Wilt sit here till daylight if thou wilt," he roared.
+"Drink on there! 'Tis thy turn."
+
+Tillie and Neopa got food ready from the grub-bag and sat waiting
+patiently; the dogs ceased moving, bedded down in the snow and went to
+sleep; and still the contest went on.
+
+Finally Reivers discerned the slight thickening of speech and the glassy
+stare in his opponent's eyes that he had been waiting for. Then, and not
+until then, did he begin to betray apparent signs of failing.
+
+"Sh-sh-shtrong liquor, m-m-mishter," he stuttered. "Awful sh-sh-shtrong
+liquor."
+
+Moir cackled in drunken triumph.
+
+"'Tish bear's milk, old shon. 'Tish made for men. Drink, ---- ye, drink
+again!"
+
+Reivers drank, drank longer and heavier than he had yet done.
+
+"There; take the mate of that, mister, and you'll know you been
+drinking," he stammered.
+
+Moir's throat by this time had been burned too raw to taste, and his
+sight was too dulled to measure quantities. He tipped the bottle up and
+drained it. The dose would have killed a normal man. To Shanty Moir it
+brought only an inclination to slumber. His head fell forward on his
+breast.
+
+With a thick-tongued snarl he sat up straight and looked at Reivers.
+Reivers hiccoughed, swayed in his seat, and collapsed with a drunken
+clatter.
+
+Moir smiled. He winked in unobserved triumph. Then the superhuman
+strength with which he had fought off the effects of the liquor snapped
+like a broken wire, and he pitched forward on his face into the snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI--THE SNOW-BURNER BEGINS TO WEAKEN
+
+
+Reivers stood up, looked down at his fallen rival and yawned.
+
+"Body," he mused, "but for a hard head, there lies you."
+
+He bent cautiously over Moir. The Welshman lay with his face half buried
+in the crusted snow, his lungs pumping like huge bellows, and the snow
+flying in gusts from around his nostrils at every expulsion of breath.
+Reivers laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. There was no movement.
+
+"Hey, mister," he called.
+
+The undisturbed breathing showed that the words had not penetrated to
+the clouded consciousness. Deliberately Reivers turned the big man over
+on his back. Moir lay as stiff and dead as a log. With swift, deft hands
+Reivers searched him to the skin, looking for a trail-map, a mark or a
+sign of any kind that might indicate the location of Moir's mine. He was
+not greatly disappointed when he failed to find anything of the sort; he
+had hardly expected that an experienced pirate like Shanty Moir would
+travel with his secrets on his person.
+
+Next he considered the dogs. It was barely possible that the dogs knew
+the way to the mine. If they had travelled the way before, they would
+know when they were on the home-trail, and if so they would travel
+thither if given their heads, even though their master lay helplessly
+bound on the sledge. Then at the mine, a sudden surprise, and probably a
+second of sharp work with the rifle on Moir's henchmen.
+
+Reivers stepped eagerly over to where Moir's team lay sleeping. He swore
+softly when he saw them. Moir had traded his tired team for a fresh
+outfit at Fifty Mile, and the new dogs were as strange to this trail as
+Reivers himself.
+
+His triumph over Moir in the drinking bout had been in vain. There was
+no march to be stolen, even with Moir lying helpless on the snow. He
+would have to go through with it as he had planned. Tillie and Neopa
+must be the means by which he would obtain his ends.
+
+He suddenly looked over to the sledge where the two women were patiently
+waiting with the food they had prepared. Tillie, squat and stolid, was
+sitting as impassive and content as a bronze figure at the door of the
+shelter tepee which she had erected, but Neopa sat bowed over on the end
+of the sledge, her head on her folded arms, her slim figure shaking with
+silent sobs.
+
+"Put back the food and go to your blankets," he commanded harshly. "Stop
+that whining, girl, or you will have something to whine for."
+
+He waited until his orders had been obeyed and the women were in the
+tepee. Then he unrolled his blanket and lay down on the snow.
+
+He did not sleep. He knew that he would not. For all through the day,
+during his dealing with Moir, on the night trail under the clean stars,
+his mind had been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in
+running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit night, with nothing
+to occupy him, the picture rushed into being, vivid and living. He could
+not shut it out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of Hattie
+MacGregor as he had seen her that morning with the pain and scorn upon
+her young, fine face. Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as
+clear as if she stood by his side:
+
+"I knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws! And you dared to talk
+to me--a decent woman!"
+
+Reivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the white stars. From the
+tepee there came a sound that brought him up sitting. He listened,
+amazed and puzzled. It was Neopa sobbing because she had been torn from
+her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint of her pain-racked tones there
+was something which recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of
+Hattie MacGregor.
+
+It was probably an hour after he had lain down that Reivers rose up and
+quietly hooked his strongest dogs to a sledge.
+
+"Tillie! Neopa! Come out!" he whispered, throwing open the flap of the
+little tepee.
+
+Neopa came, wet-faced and haggard, her wide-open eyes showing plainly
+that there had been no sleep for her that night. Tillie was rubbing her
+eyes sleepily, protesting against being wakened from comfortable
+slumber.
+
+Reivers pointed northward up the river bed.
+
+"Up there, on this river, one day's march away, is the camp of your
+people, which we came from," he whispered. "Do you both take this team
+and drive rapidly thither. Hold to the river-bed and keep away from the
+black spots where the water shows through the snow. Do not stop to rest
+or feed. You should reach your people in the middle of the afternoon.
+Then do you give Nawa this rifle. Tell him to shoot any white man who
+comes after you. Now go swiftly."
+
+Neopa looked at him with her fawn-like eyes large with incredibility and
+hope.
+
+"Snow-Burner! Do you let me go back to Nawa?" she whispered.
+
+"Get on the sledge," he commanded. "Do as I've told you, or you'll hear
+from me."
+
+As emotion had all but paralysed the young girl he forced her to a seat
+on the sledge and thrust the whip into her hand, then turned to Tillie.
+Tillie was making no move to approach the sledge.
+
+"Did you hear what I said?" he demanded.
+
+Tillie smiled strangely.
+
+"Has the Snow-Burner become afraid of Iron Hair?" she asked.
+
+"So little afraid that I no longer need you to help me in this matter,"
+retorted Reivers.
+
+The shrewd squaw shook her head.
+
+"How will the Snow-Burner find Iron Hair's gold how? Iron Hair will not
+take the Snow-Burner to his camp alone. It is not the Snow-Burner that
+Iron Hair wants. It is a woman. Has the Snow-Burner given up the fight
+to get the gold which he wants so much? He knows he can not reach Iron
+Hair's camp--alone."
+
+"Then I will not reach it at all. Get on the sledge."
+
+Tillie smiled but did not move.
+
+"The Snow-Burner at last has become like other white men. He wishes to
+do what is right." She pointed at the snoring Moir. "He would not be so
+weak."
+
+While Reivers looked at her in amazement the squaw stepped forward,
+straightened out the dogs, kicked them viciously and sent the sledge,
+bearing Neopa alone, flying up the river-bed.
+
+"To send Neopa back to Nawa is well and good," she said, returning to
+Reivers. "She would weep for Nawa all day and night, and would grow sick
+and die on our hands. But there is no Nawa waiting for Tillie. Tillie is
+tired of her tepee with no man in it. Iron Hair has smiled upon me,
+Snow-Burner. I will smile upon him. His smile will answer mine as the
+dry pine lights up when the match is touched to it. I have looked in his
+eyes and know. He will forget Neopa. Tillie will help the Snow-Burner
+rob Iron Hair. Is it well?"
+
+"Get back to your blankets," commanded Reivers. "If you wish it, we will
+let it be so. Sleep long. Do not stir until you hear that Iron Hair has
+awakened."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII--INTO THE JAWS OF THE BEAR
+
+
+Shanty Moir stirred when the first rays of the morning sun, glancing off
+the snow, struck his eyes. He rose like a musk-ox lifting itself from
+its snow wallow, with mighty heaves and grunts, and looked around.
+
+He was blear-eyed and puffed of face, his throat was raw and burning
+from the unbelievable amount of hooch he had swallowed in the night, but
+his abnormal organisation had thrown off the effects of the alcohol and
+he was cold sober. His first move was to cool his throat with handfuls
+of snow, his second to step over and regard the apparently paralysed
+Reivers with a look of mingled triumph and contempt.
+
+"Eh, old sonny! Would a drinked with Shanty Moir, wouldst 'ee?" he
+chuckled. "Happen thee got thy old soak's skin filled to overflow that
+time. Get up, you waster!" he commanded, stirring the prostrate form
+with a heavy foot "Up with you!"
+
+Reivers did not stir, but he put that touch of the foot down as
+something extra that Moir would have to pay for. He was apparently lying
+steeped in the depths of drunken slumber, and he wished to drive the
+impression firmly into Shanty Moir's mind that he had been dead to the
+world all night. Hence he did not interrupt his snoring as Moir's foot
+touched him.
+
+"Laid out stiff!" laughed Moir.
+
+He reached down, lifted Reivers' head from the snow and let it fall
+heavily. Still Reivers made no sign of awakening. Moir looked at him for
+a moment, then slily tiptoed toward the shelter tepee and threw up the
+flap. The next instant a bellow of rage shattered the morning quiet.
+Like a maddened bear Moir was back at Reivers, cuffing, kicking,
+cursing, commanding that he wake up.
+
+Reivers awoke only in degree. Not until Moir had opened a new bottle of
+hooch and poured a drink down his throat did he essay to sit up and open
+his eyes.
+
+"Wha' smatter? Can't a man shleep?" he protested. "Wha' smatter with
+you?"
+
+"Matter!" bellowed Moir. "Plenty of matter, you old waster. Where's the
+young lass, eh? Where's the girl gone? Look in the tepee and see what's
+the matter. You told me you had the trulls buffaloed. What's become of
+the young girl?"
+
+It was some time before Reivers appeared to understand. Finally he
+stumbled to his feet and started toward the tent, met Tillie as she
+stepped out rubbing her eyes, and recoiled drunkenly.
+
+"Neopa? Where is she?" muttered Tillie. "She slept near the door. Now
+she is gone."
+
+She had let her shiny black hair fall loosely over her shoulders and now
+she threw it back, looked straight at Moir and smiled.
+
+"Neopa gone?" demanded Reivers thickly. "She can't be; she wouldn't
+dare."
+
+"Dare, you fool? Look there." Moir pointed to the hollows where the
+missing dog team had lain and to the tracks that ran straight and true
+up the river bed. "She's run away. Been gone half a night. Well, what
+have you got to say?"
+
+Reivers turned with a scowl on Tillie, but Tillie was comfortably
+plaiting her thick hair.
+
+"Neopa has run away--back to our people," she said with a smile, as she
+turned back into the tepee. "Tillie does not run away," she added as she
+disappeared.
+
+Moir sat down on a sledge and cursed Reivers steadily for five minutes,
+but at every few words his eyes would stray back to the tepee which hid
+Tillie.
+
+"We'll go after her," said Reivers. "We'll bring her back."
+
+"Go after her!" snorted Moir. "She has half a night's start on us.
+She'll reach her people before we could get her. Do you think I want
+half the country following my trail."
+
+"I'll go after her alone then," insisted Reivers.
+
+"Will you?" Moir's eyes narrowed to slits. "I think not. Let me tell
+thee something, old son: he who goes this far on the home trail with
+Shanty Moir goes all the way. Understand? You'll come with me or you'll
+be wolf-meat out here on the snow. No; there'll be no following of that
+kid. She's gone. The other one's here. There is no telling what tale the
+kid will spin when she meets people, or who will be down here looking
+for our trail. Therefore we are going to travel and travel quick. Have
+the squaw get food in a hurry. Get your dogs together. We'll be on the
+trail in half an hour."
+
+Moir was masterful and dominant now. It was evident that he was more
+worried over the possibility of some one hearing of his whereabouts
+through Neopa than he was over the girl's escape. He gave Reivers a
+second drink of liquor, since he seemed to need it to fully awaken him,
+and set about making ready for the trail.
+
+"Eat plenty," he commanded, when Tilly served the cold meat and tea.
+"The next meal you have will be about sundown."
+
+He tore down the tepee, packed the sledges and had the outfit ready for
+the start in an amazingly short while.
+
+"Now, old son," he said quietly, pointing to the rifle that lay
+uncovered on top of his sledge, "do 'ee take good look at her. She's a
+good old Betsy and I've knocked o'er smaller men than you at the half
+mile. Do you keep well up with me on the trail I'll be making this day
+and there'll be no trouble. Try any tricks and the wolves will have
+whiskey-soaked meat to feed on. There's no turning back now. He who
+comes this far with Shanty Moir goes all the way."
+
+"You can't lose me, mister," stammered Reivers. "I want that money for
+hooch for next Summer like you promised."
+
+"Wilt get more than you bargained for, old son," laughed Moir. "Yes,
+more than you ever dreamed of. Hi-yah! Buck! Bugle! Mush; mush up!"
+
+Moir made no pretence at hiding his trail when he started this time.
+Apparently he reasoned that the damage was done. If any one wished to
+trail him after hearing Neopa's story they would have no trouble in
+finding his tracks, despite any subterfuge he might attempt. He went
+straight forward, as a man who has nothing to fear if he can but reach
+his fastness, and Reivers' wonderment grew as the trail held straight
+toward the rising sun.
+
+The course was parallel to the one he had taken westward from
+MacGregor's cabin to Tillie's encampment. If it held on as it was going
+it would lead straight into the heart of the Dead Lands, and within half
+a day's travel of the MacGregor home. Was it possible that the mine lay
+in the Dead Lands? Duncan MacGregor made this territory his
+trapping-ground. How could his brother's find have escaped his trained
+outdoor eyes?
+
+The next instant Reivers was cursing himself for a blind fool. There was
+no trapping in the Dead Lands. There was no feed there. Except for a
+stray wolf-cave, fur-bearing beasts would shun those barren rocks as a
+desert, and Duncan MacGregor, being a knowing trapper, might trap around
+it twenty years without venturing through after a first fruitless search
+for signs.
+
+The mine was in the Dead Lands, of course. It was as safely hidden there
+as if within the bowels of the earth. And he, Reivers, had probably been
+within shooting distance of it during his two days' wandering in that
+district. The man whom he had killed with the rock had undoubtedly been
+hurrying with Hattie MacGregor straight to his chief's fastness.
+
+It was noon when the ragged ground on the horizonhead told Reivers that
+his surmises were correct and that they were hurrying straight for the
+Dead Lands. An hour of travel and the jagged formation of the rock
+country was plainly distinguishable a little over a mile ahead. Then
+Moir for the first time that day called a halt. When Reivers caught up
+with him he saw that Moir held in each hand a small pouch-like
+contrivance of buckskin, pierced near the middle with tiny holes and
+equipped with draw-strings at the bottom.
+
+"Come here, lass," he beckoned to Tillie. "Must hide that smiling mouth
+of thine for the present."
+
+With a laugh he threw the pouch over the squaw's head, pulled the bottom
+tightly around her neck, and tied the strings securely.
+
+"The same with thee, old son," he said, and treated Reivers in the same
+summary manner. "You see, I do not wish to have to put you away," he
+explained genially, "and that I would do if by chance thy eyes should
+see the way to Shanty Moir's mine. One or two men have been unlucky
+enough to see it. They will never be able to tell the tale." He
+skilfully searched the pair for hidden weapons, but Reivers had expected
+this and carried not so much as a knife. "All right. Keep in my steps,
+old son. Presently thou'll get wet. Do not fear. Wilt not let 'ee come
+to harm. Neither thee nor tuh squaw. I have use for you both. Come now;
+I'll go slow."
+
+The buckskin pouch pierced only by the tiny air-holes, masked Reivers'
+eyes in a fashion that precluded any possible chance of sight. He knew
+instinctively that Moir was turning. First the turn was to the left.
+Then back to the right. Then in a circle, and after that straight ahead.
+
+Presently the feel of a sharp rock underfoot told him that they had
+entered the Dead Lands. He stumbled purposely to one side of the trail
+and bumped squarely against a solid wall of stone. Next he tried it on
+the opposite side with the same result. Moir was leading the way through
+a narrow defile in the rocks.
+
+Suddenly there came to Reivers' ears the sound of running water, the
+lazy murmur of a small brook. Almost at the same instant came the splash
+of Moir and his dogs going into the stream and Moir's laughing:
+
+"Wilt get a little wet here, old son. But follow on."
+
+Fumbling with his feet Reivers found the stream and stepped in. To his
+surprise the water was warm. Warm water? Where had he seen warm water
+recently in this country? His thoughts leaped back with a snap. There
+was only one open stream to be found thereabouts, and that was the brook
+that came from the warm springs by which he had camped on his way to
+Tillie's.
+
+"Warm water!" laughed Moir. "Wilt find all snug in my camp. Aye, as snug
+as in a well-kept jail."
+
+The stream was knee-deep, and by the pressure of the water against the
+back of his legs Reivers knew that they were going down-stream.
+Presently Moir spoke again.
+
+"Now, if you value the tops of your heads, do you duck as low as you
+can. Duck now, quick; and do you keep that position till I tell you to
+straighten up."
+
+Reivers and Tillie ducked obediently. Suddenly the tiny light that had
+come through the air-holes of their masks was shut out. The darkness was
+complete. Reivers thrust his hand above his bowed head and came in
+contact with cold, clammy rock. No wonder it had taken MacGregor and
+Moir two years to find the mine, since the way to it lay by a
+subterranean river!
+
+The light reappeared, but it was not the sunny light that had come
+through the air-holes before they had entered the river tunnel. It was
+grey and dead, as the light in a room where the sunshine does not enter.
+
+"Now you can lift your heads," laughed Moir. "Come to the right. Up the
+bank. Here we are."
+
+He jerked Reivers out of the water roughly, and roughly pulled the sack
+from his head. Reivers blinked as the light struck his eyes. Moir
+treated him to a generous kick.
+
+"Welcome," he hissed menacingly. "Welcome to the camp of Shanty Moir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII--MACGREGOR ROY
+
+
+Reivers' first impression was that he was standing in a gigantic
+stockade. The second that he was on the floor of a great quarry-pit.
+Then, when the situation grew clear to him, he stood dumfounded.
+
+The camp of Shanty Moir lay in what would have been a solid rock cave
+but for the lack of a roof. It was an irregular hollow in the strange
+formation of the Dead Lands, perhaps fifty yards long and thirty yards
+wide at its greatest breadth. The hollow was surrounded completely by
+ragged stone walls about fifty feet in height. These walls slanted
+inward to a startling degree. Thus while the floor of the strange spot
+was thirty yards wide, the opening above, through which showed the
+far-away sky, could scarcely have been more than half that width. The
+brook ran through the middle of the chasm, entering the upper end by a
+tunnel five feet in height and disappearing in the solid wall of rock at
+the lower end by a similar opening.
+
+On each side of the narrow stream, and running back to the rock walls,
+was a floor of smooth river-sand. Beneath an overhanging ledge on the
+side where Reivers stood were the rude skin fronts of two dugouts. A tin
+smoke-stack protruded from the larger of the two habitations; the other,
+which was high enough only to admit a man stooping far over, was merely
+a flap of hide hanging down from the rock.
+
+On the beach at the other side of the creek a fire burned beneath a
+great iron pan, the wood smoke filling the chasm with its pungent odour.
+Behind the fire a series of tunnels ran down in the sand under the
+cliffs. From the tunnel immediately behind the fire came a thin spiral
+of sluggish smoke, and Reivers knew that this tunnel was being worked
+and that the fire was being used to thaw the frozen earth.
+
+A man who resembled Moir on a small scale was at work at the
+thawing-pan, breaking the hard earth with his fingers and tossing it
+into a washing-pan at his side. He stood now with a chunk of frozen sand
+in his hand, and at sight of Reivers and Tillie he tossed the sand
+recklessly into the air and whooped.
+
+"Ha! Hast done well this time, Shanty," he cried in an accent similar to
+theirs. "Hast made tuh life endurable. A new horse for me and a woman
+for 'ee. 'Tis high time. Since Blacky went off and did not come back,
+and tuh two Indians tried to flee, we've had but one horse to do with.
+Now wilt have two. Wilt clean up in a hurry now, and live in tuh
+meanwhile."
+
+Shanty Moir laughed harshly.
+
+"How works tuh old Scot jackass to-day?" he called.
+
+The man across the creek shook his head.
+
+"He's never tuh horse he was when we first put him in harness," he
+chuckled. "Fell twice in his tracks to-day, he did, and lay there till
+Joey gave him an inch of tuh prod. Has been a good beastie, the Scot
+has, Shanty, but 'tis in my mind tuh climate does not 'gree with him.
+Scarce able to pull his load. In tuh mines at home we knocked such worn
+beasties in the head and sent them up o' tuh pit."
+
+Moir laughed again.
+
+"Hast a quaint way o' putting things, Tammy," he said. "But I mind when
+ponies were scarce we used them till they crawled their knees raw. 'Tis
+plenty o' time to knock old horse-flesh in tuh head when tuh job's
+done."
+
+They laughed together. Evidently this was a well-liked camp joke.
+
+"'Tis a well-coupled animal 'ee have there, Shanty," said the humourist
+across the water, with a jerk of the head at Reivers. "Big in tuh bone
+and solid around tuh withers. Yon squaw is a solid piece, too. Happen
+they're broke to pull double?"
+
+"Unbroke stock, Tammy," drawled Moir leisurely. "Gentleman, squaw-man,
+waster. But breaking stock's our specialty, eh, Tammy?"
+
+A muffled shout floated up from the mouth of the smoking pit before
+Tammy could reply. Instantly there followed a dull moan of pain: Moir
+and Tommy laughed knowingly.
+
+"Here comes sample of our work," said Tammy, nodding toward the tunnel.
+"Poor Joey! Has to use tuh prod to start him with each load now."
+
+A grating, shuffling sound now came from the mouth of the tunnel.
+Following it appeared the head of a man. And Reivers needed only one
+glance at the emaciated countenance to know that he was looking upon the
+father of Hattie MacGregor.
+
+"Giddap, Scotch jackass!" roared Moir in great good humour. "Pull it out
+o' there. That's tuh horse. Pull!"
+
+The man came painfully, an inch at a time, out of the pit, and looked
+across the creek at Shanty Moir. Behind him there dragged a rough wooden
+sledge loaded with lumps of earth. The man was hitched to this load by a
+harness of straps that held his arms helpless against his sides. No
+strait-jacket ever held its victim more utterly helpless than the
+contrivance which now held James MacGregor in toils as a beast of
+burden. A contrivance of straps about the ankles held his legs close
+together.
+
+So short were the traces by which the sledge was drawn that MacGregor
+could not have stood upright without having lifted the heavy load a foot
+or more from the ground. He made no attempt to stand so, but hung
+half-bowed against the harness, his eyes gleaming through the matted red
+hair over his brows straight at Shanty Moir.
+
+It was the eyes that drew and held Reivers' attention to the face,
+rather than to the man's terrible situation. James MacGregor, helpless
+beast of burden to his tormentors that he was, was not beaten. The same
+clean-cut nose, mouth and chin that Reivers remembered so well in the
+daughter were apparent in the father's pain-marked face. The eyes
+gleamed defiance. And they were wide and grey, Reivers saw, the same as
+the eyes that haunted him in memory's pictures of the girl who had not
+feared his glance.
+
+"Shanty Moir," spoke MacGregor in a voice weak but firm, "when the devil
+made you he cursed his own work. He cursed you as a misbegotten thing
+not fit for hell. The gut-eating wolverine is a brave beast compared to
+you. Skunks would run from your company. You think you have done big
+work. You fool! You cannot rob me of what belongs to me and mine; you
+cannot kill me. As sure as there is a God in Heaven, He will let me or
+mine kill you with bare hands."
+
+Moir and his man laughed in weary fashion, as if this speech were old to
+them, and Reivers was amazed at an impulse within him to throw himself
+at Shanty Moir's throat. He joined foolishly in the laughter to hide his
+confusion. What had he to do with such impulses? What business had he
+having any feeling for the poor enslaved man before him? He had come to
+Moir's camp for one purpose: to get the gold mined there, to get a new
+start in life. Was it possible that he was growing weak enough to
+experience the feeling of pity, the impulse to help the helpless?
+Nonsense! He laughed loudly. His plan was one in which silly impulses of
+this nature had no part, and he would go through with it to the end.
+
+"Well brayed, Scots jackass," said the man at the thawing-pan casually.
+"Now pull tuh load over here. Giddap-pull!"
+
+MacGregor leaned weakly against the harness, but the sledge had lodged
+and his depleted strength was insufficient to budge it.
+
+"Oh ho! Getting lazy, eh?" came from the tunnel, and a thin-faced man
+came out, a short stick with a sharp brad in his hands. "Want help, eh?
+Well, here 'tis," he chuckled, and drove the brad into MacGregor's leg.
+
+Again the strange impulse to leap to the tortured man's rescue, to kill
+his tormentor without reckoning the price or what might come after,
+stirred itself in Reivers' breast, and again he joined in the laughter
+to pass it off.
+
+MacGregor started as the iron entered his flesh and the movement
+loosened the sledge. With weak, faltering steps he drew the load
+alongside the fire, where Tammy proceeded to transfer the frozen chunks
+of earth to the thawing-pan.
+
+"Eh, hah! New cattle?" said the man with the prod when he espied Reivers
+and Tillie. "Cow and bull."
+
+"Cow--and an old ox, Joey," laughed Moir. "Has even burnt his horns off
+with hooch, and wilt go well in the harness when he's broke."
+
+"'Tis time," said Joey. "Tuh Scots jackass'll soon drop in his tracks."
+
+"Not until I've paid you out in full, you devils," said MacGregor
+quietly. "I'll give you an hour of living hell for every prod you've
+given me, you poor cur."
+
+Joey approached him and unhooked the traces from his harness with an air
+that told how well he was accustomed to such threats.
+
+"Must call it a day, Shanty," he said, loosening the straps that bound
+MacGregor's hands so the forearms were free while the upper arms
+remained bound tightly to his sides. "Old pit's full o' smoke." In bored
+sort of fashion he kicked MacGregor into the creek. "To your stable,
+jackass. Day's done."
+
+MacGregor, tripped by the traps about his ankles, fell full length in
+the water, floundered across, and crawled miserably out of sight behind
+the skin front of the smaller dugout. Moir and his two henchmen watched
+him, jeering and laughing. At a sign the two on the other side of the
+creek came across and drew close to their chief.
+
+"And now, old son," snarled Moir, swinging around on Reivers like a
+flash, "now, you slick waster--now we'll attend to 'ee."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX--JAMES MACGREGOR'S STORY
+
+
+The three men moved forward until they were within arm's reach of
+Reivers, and stood regarding him with open grins on their hairy faces.
+Reivers, reading the import of their grins, knew that they were bent
+upon enjoying themselves at his expense, and tried swiftly to guess what
+form their amusement might take. If it were only horse-play he would be
+able to continue in the helpless character he had assumed. If it were to
+be rougher than that, if they set out to break him in real earnest, he
+feared that his acting was at an end.
+
+Even for the sake of the gold that he was after he would hardly be able
+to submit, humbly and helplessly as became a drunken squaw-man, to their
+efforts to make a wreck of him. He calculated his chances of coming
+through alive if the situation developed to this extreme, and decided
+that the odds were a trifle too heavy against him.
+
+The element of surprise would be on his side, but his right shoulder
+still was weak from the old bullet-wound. With his terrible ability to
+use his feet he calculated that he could drop Moir and Tammy with broken
+bones as they rushed him. To do that he would have to drop to his back,
+and Joey, the third man, wore a long skinning-knife on his hip. No, if
+he began to fight he would never get what he had come after. He wiped
+his mouth furtively and swayed from the knees up.
+
+"I want some hooch, mister, that's what I want," he whined shakily. "You
+promised you'd give me a drink when we got here, you know you did.
+Haven't had a drop since morning. I wouldn't 'a' come if I'd known you
+were going to treat me like this."
+
+Then he did the best acting of his life. He jumped sideways and
+shuddered; he frantically plucked imaginary bugs off his coat sleeve; he
+stepped high as if stepping over something on the ground; his eyes and
+face muscles worked spasmodically.
+
+"O-ooh! Gimme a drink," he begged. "Please gimme a drink. I gotta have
+it."
+
+The grins faded from the faces before him. They knew full well the signs
+of incipient delirium tremens. Tammy laughed dryly.
+
+"Hast brought home more than an old ox and a cow, Shanty," he said.
+"Hast brought a whole menagerie. Yon stick'll have tuh Wullies in a
+minute if he's not liquored."
+
+Reivers dropped to his knees, shuddering, his arms shielding his eyes
+from imaginary beasts of the bottle.
+
+"Take 'em away, boys," he pleaded. "Kill the big ones, let the little
+ones go."
+
+With a snarl Moir leaped to his sledge and knocked the neck off a bottle
+of hooch.
+
+"Drink, you scut!" he growled. "I'll have dealings with you when you're
+sobered up."
+
+Reivers drank and began to doze. Moir kicked him upright.
+
+"Get into the shed with t'other jackass," he commanded, propelling him
+toward the dugout into which MacGregor had crawled. "And in tuh morning
+you go to work, e'en though snakes be crawling all o'er 'ee."
+
+A faintly muttered curse greeted Reivers as he crawled into the dugout.
+
+"You poor curs! What do you want with me now?" came MacGregor's voice
+from a corner of the tiny room. "You skunk----"
+
+"Easy, MacGregor Roy," whispered Reivers quietly. "It's not one of the
+'skunks.'"
+
+"MacGregor Roy!" By the light that entered by a slit in the skin-flap
+Reivers could see the Scotchman painfully lifting his head from his
+miserable bunk, as he hoarsely repeated his own name. "MacGregor Roy!
+Who are you, stranger, to call James MacGregor by his family name?"
+
+"I'm the man that Shanty Moir brought in this afternoon," whispered
+Reivers.
+
+"I know, I know," gasped MacGregor weakly. "But men do not call me
+MacGregor Roy. James MacGregor they call me, unless--unless----"
+
+"Unless they have the 'Roy' straight from the lips of your daughter,
+Hattie."
+
+For a full minute MacGregor sat stricken speechless.
+
+"Man, man! Speak!" The unfortunate man came wriggling over and laid his
+hands pleadingly on Reivers. "Don't play with me. Is my daughter Hattie
+alive and well?"
+
+"Very much alive," replied Reivers, "and as well as can be expected of a
+girl who is worrying her heart out over why her father doesn't return or
+send her word."
+
+"Have they no' guessed--has no' my brother Duncan guessed by this time?"
+gasped MacGregor. "Can not they understand that I must be dead or held
+captive since I do not return? Speak, man, tell me how 'tis with them!"
+
+Reivers waited until the poor man had become more quiet before replying
+to him.
+
+"You'd better quiet down a little MacGregor," he whispered then. "You
+can't tell when your friends might be listening, and it wouldn't do
+either of us any good if they heard what we're saying."
+
+"True," said the old man more quietly. "I'm acting like an old woman.
+But for three months I've been trapped like this, and my head fairly
+swims when I hear you speak of Hattie. How come you to know of her?"
+
+Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had been cared for at
+the MacGregor cabin.
+
+"And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to her from the black devil
+they sent to steal her? You must know, man, they taunted me by
+sending----"
+
+"I know," interrupted Reivers; and he told how he had disposed of the
+kidnapper.
+
+"You--you did that?" MacGregor clutched Reivers's hand. "You saved my
+little Hattie?"
+
+"None of that," snapped Reivers, snatching away his hand. "I did nothing
+for your little Hattie. Why should I? What is your Hattie to me? I
+simply put that black-beard out of business because I needed food and he
+had it on the sledge."
+
+"Yet you're not one of the gang here--now? You are no' anything but a
+friend of me and mine?"
+
+"A friend?" sneered Reivers. "I'll tell you, Mac: I'm here as my own
+friend, absolutely nothing else."
+
+"But Hattie--and my brother Duncan--they understand about me now."
+
+"They know you're either dead or worse," was the reply. "And they're at
+Dumont's Camp now, waiting for Moir to come there on a spree, when they
+expect to trail him back to this camp."
+
+MacGregor nodded his head weakly.
+
+"Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could be expected. Please
+Heaven, they'll soon win here. And James MacGregor will not forget what
+he owes you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter, when the time
+of reckoning comes with Moir and his poor curs."
+
+Reivers laughed coldly under his breath.
+
+"You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man who's trussed up the
+way you are."
+
+"God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will with me much longer,"
+said the Scot firmly. "It isna posseeble."
+
+"'This dog of a Moir' must be a better man than you are," taunted
+Reivers. "He fooled you and trapped you as soon as you'd found this
+mine."
+
+"Did he?" MacGregor flared up. "Shanty Moir a better man than me? Hoot,
+no! He fooled me, yes, for I didna know that he'd got word to these
+three hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him; he was my
+pardner. And when we returned with proveesions for the Winter the three
+devils were waiting for us, just inside the wall, where the creek comes
+through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha' done it. The three of them
+jumped on me from above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me.
+
+"They've kept me strapped ever since. I'm draft beast for them. Twice a
+day they feed me. And between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing
+before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half mine."
+
+"Oh, well, it doesn't look to me as if there'd be enough gold here to
+bother about," said Reivers casually. "It's nothing but a little freak
+pocket by the looks of it."
+
+"So it is. A freak pocket. It could be nothing else in this district.
+'Twas only by chance we found it, exploring the creek in here out of
+curiosity. 'Twas in the bowels of the warm spring up yon, where the
+creek starts, that the pocket was originally. The spring boiled it out
+into the creek, and the creek washed it down here in its bed of sand.
+The sand lodged here, against these rock walls. There's about a hundred
+feet of the sand, running down under the cliffs, and it's all pocket.
+Not a rich pocket, as you say, but Shanty Moir is filthy with nuggets
+and dust now, and there'll be some more in the sand that's left to work
+over.
+
+"Not a bonanza, man, but a good-sized fortune. 'Twould be enough to send
+my Hattie to school. 'Twould give her all the comforts of the world.
+'Twould make folk look up to her. And Shanty Moir, the devil's spawn,
+has it in his keeping."
+
+"And he'll probably see that it continues in his keeping, too," yawned
+Reivers.
+
+"Never!" swore MacGregor, rising to the bait. "Shanty Moir did me dirt
+too foul to prosper by it, and I'm a better man than he is, besides. The
+stuff will come into my hands, where it belongs, some way. I dinna see
+just how for the present. But the stuff, and my revenge I will have.
+E'en shackled as I am I'll have my revenge, though it's only to bite the
+windpipe out of Shanty Moir's throat like a mad dog."
+
+"Huh!" Reivers was lying face down on some blankets, apparently but
+little interested. "And suppose you do get Shanty Moir? What good will
+that do you? I'll bet Shanty's got the gold hid where nobody could find
+it without getting directions from him. Suppose you get him. Suppose you
+get all three of 'em. Shanty Moir being dead, the nuggets and dust
+probably'd be as completely lost as they were before you two boys found
+the pocket in the first place."
+
+For a long time MacGregor sat in his corner of the dugout without
+replying. Reivers could see that at times he raised his head, even
+opened his mouth as if to speak, then sank back undecided. At last he
+hunched himself forward inch by inch to the front of the dugout and
+lifted the flap.
+
+The light of day had gone from the cavern. On the sand before the larger
+dugout blazed a brisk cooking-fire. In the confined space the light from
+its flames was magnified, reflecting from rock-wall and running water,
+and illuminating brightly the miserable hole in which Reivers and
+MacGregor lay.
+
+MacGregor held up the flap for several minutes, studying Reivers, and
+though Reivers looked back with the look in his eyes that made most men
+quail, the old man's sharp grey eyes studied him unruffled, even as the
+eyes of his daughter had done before.
+
+"By the Big Nail, 'tis a man's man!" muttered MacGregor, dropping the
+flap at last. "How in the name of self-respect did the likes of you fall
+prey to the cur, Shanty Moir?"
+
+"Self-respect?" sniggered Reivers. "Did you notice me out there when you
+were laying your curse on Moir?"
+
+"Aye. You were far gone in liquor then--by the looks of you. You'll mind
+I say 'by the looks of you.' You are not in liquor now. That's what
+puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch so quickly. You were
+playing at being drunk. Now, why might that be?"
+
+"To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir thinking I'm a drunken
+squaw-man without brains or nerve enough to do anything but sponge for
+hooch."
+
+"Aye? And your reason for that?"
+
+"My reason for that?" Reivers laughed under his breath. "Why, did you
+ever hear of a more popular reason for a man risking his throat than
+gold? I heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan and your
+daughter. I need--or rather, I want money. Shanty Moir had won over you
+and had gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away from him.
+Isn't that simple?"
+
+"Simple and spoken well," said MacGregor calmly. "Will you answer me one
+question: Did you serve notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on
+this hunt?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail and do what he can
+if he speaks out fair. I take it you hardly calculated to find me here
+alive?"
+
+"No, I didn't think Moir was such an amateur as to take any chances."
+
+"Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that's why I'm alive, and no other
+reason. And finding me here alive, does it alter your plans any?"
+
+"Only a trifle. You see, I'd made up my mind to bring Moir and your
+daughter Hattie face to face to see if she could make good on her big
+talk of taking revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I see
+you're still alive--well, I won't let any little foolishness like that
+interfere with the business I've come on."
+
+"I mean about the gold, man?"
+
+Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise.
+
+"About the gold?" he repeated.
+
+"Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the gold, here, alive
+and hoping to win back with my share to my daughter Hattie--does it make
+any change in your plans?"
+
+Reivers chuckled softly.
+
+"Not in the slightest," he replied. "I came to get the stuff that's come
+out of this mine. Take a look at me. Do I look like a soft fool who'd
+let anything interfere with my plans?"
+
+MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled.
+
+"I dinna understand ye, mon," he said. "I canna make you out. By the
+look of you I'd be wishful to strike hands with you as one good man to
+another; but your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the stuff
+that's been taken out of this mine--Shanty Moir's half--I have made up my
+mind shall be yours for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from
+black shame. Will you na' strike hands on a partnership like that
+between us?"
+
+Reivers yawned.
+
+"Why should I? You're 'all in.' You can't help me any. I'll have to do
+the job of getting the gold away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I
+don't want any help, and I certainly won't make any unnecessary split."
+
+"Man," whispered MacGregor in horror, "is there naught but a piece of
+ice where your heart should be? Do you not understand it's for a poor,
+unprovided girl I'm talking? A man you might rob; but have you the
+coldness in your heart to rob my little, unfortunate Hattie?"
+
+"'Little, unfortunate Hattie!'" mocked Reivers. "Consider her robbed
+already. What then?"
+
+"A word to Shanty Moir and you're as good as dead," retorted MacGregor
+hotly.
+
+Reivers' long right arm shot out and terrible fingers clutched
+MacGregor's throat. The old man wriggled and gasped and tried to cry
+out, but Reivers held him voiceless and helpless and smiled.
+
+"One word to Shanty Moir, and--you see?" he said, releasing his hold.
+"Then your little, unfortunate Hattie would be robbed for sure."
+
+"Man--man--what are you, man or devil?" gasped MacGregor.
+
+"Devil, if it suits you," said Reivers. "But, remember, I'll manage to
+be within reach of you when Shanty Moir's about, and I rather fancy Moir
+would be glad to have me put you out of business. Now listen to me. I've
+no objection to your getting out of here alive--if you can. I've no
+objection to your getting your revenge on Moir, if you can, provided
+that none of this interferes with my getting what I came after. You know
+now what I can and will do if necessary. Your life lies right there." He
+opened and closed his right hand significantly. "Well, I'll trade you
+your life for a little information. Where does Shanty keep his gold?"
+
+MacGregor ceased gasping. He began to laugh. He leaned over and laughed.
+He rocked from side to side.
+
+"Man, man! Do you not know that? That proves you're only human!" he
+chuckled. "You came out here, like a lamb led to slaughter, to find
+where Shanty Moir keeps his gold. You were on the trail with Shanty. You
+had him where it was only one man to one. Well--well, the joke is too
+good to keep: Shanty Moir, day and night, wears a big buckskin belt
+about the middle of him, and the gold--the gold is in the belt!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL--THE WHITE MAN'S SENTIMENT
+
+
+It was very still in the dugout. Suddenly Reivers leaned forward to see
+if MacGregor were telling the truth. Satisfied with his scrutiny he sat
+back and laughed softly.
+
+"In a belt, around his middle, eh?" he said. "Good work. Mr. Moir is
+cautious enough to be interesting."
+
+"Cautious!" MacGregor threw up the flap of the dugout. "Look out there,
+man."
+
+Reivers looked. On the sand directly before the door lay chained a huge,
+husky dog, an ugly, starved brute with mad eyes.
+
+"Try but to crawl outside the shack," suggested MacGregor.
+
+Reivers tried. His head had no more than appeared outside when the dog
+sprang. The chain jerked him back as his teeth clashed where Reivers'
+head had been. He leaped thrice more, striving to hurl himself into the
+dugout, then returned to his place and lay down, growling.
+
+"Very cautious," agreed Reivers.
+
+He peered carefully out toward the cooking-fire. The fire had died down
+now and was deserted. By the sounds coming from the larger dugout
+Reivers knew that Moir and his men were occupied with their supper,
+supplemented by occasional drafts of liquor, and once more he crawled
+out upon the sand.
+
+With a snarl the great dog leaped again, his bared fangs flashing in the
+night. The snarl died in a choke. Reivers' long arms flashed out and his
+fingers caught the dog by the throat so swiftly and surely that not
+another sound came from between its teeth. It was a big, strong dog and
+it died hard, but out there on the sand Reivers sat, silently keeping
+his hold till the last sign of life had gone from the brute's body. Not
+a sound rose to attract attention from the larger dugout.
+
+When the animal was quite dead Reivers crawled forward and untied the
+chain that held it to a rock. Noiselessly he crawled farther on and
+noiselessly slipped the carcass into the brook. The brisk current caught
+it and dragged it down. Reivers waited until he saw the thing disappear
+into the dark tunnel at the lower end of the cavern, then returned to
+the dugout and quietly lay down on his blankets.
+
+"God's blood!" gasped MacGregor and sat silent.
+
+"Well," yawned Reivers, "our friend Moir is short one dog."
+
+"You crazy fool!" MacGregor was grinding his teeth. "Ha' you no' thought
+of what Shanty Moir will do when he finds what you've done to his
+watch-dog?"
+
+"What I have done?" Reivers laughed his idiotic squaw-man's laugh.
+"D'you suppose a poor old bum like me could throttle a man-eater like
+that beast? You'll be the one to be blamed for it. Why should I touch
+Moir's dog? Moir and I came here together, chummy as a couple of
+thieves."
+
+"You would not--you could not do that? You could not put it on me? Man,
+they'd drop me in the river after the beast, if you got them to believe
+it."
+
+"Well?" said Reivers gently.
+
+The Scot bit his lip and grew crafty.
+
+"Well," he said, "there'd be only you left then to do the dirt-hauling
+for Shanty Moir."
+
+Reivers nodded appreciatively.
+
+"You deserve something for that, Mac," said he.
+
+He lay silent for a few minutes. Then he chuckled suddenly as if he had
+thought of a good joke.
+
+"Watch me closely now, Mac," he ordered, "and if you ever feel like
+speaking that word to Moir, I'll holler at you worse than this."
+
+He rolled himself to the front of the dugout, and suddenly there rang
+out in the cavern such a shriek of terror as stopped the blood in the
+veins of all who heard. Twice Reivers uttered his horrible cry. Then he
+began to shout drunkenly:
+
+"Take him off, take him away! Oh, oh, oh! Big dog coming out of the
+river. Take him away. Big dog swimming in the river. Take him away.
+Help, help!"
+
+Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout in advance of the
+others. He came with a six-shooter in his hand, and the gun covered
+Reivers, huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a vise. But
+Reivers observed that Moir stopped well out of reach.
+
+"What tuh ----!" roared Muir, as he noted the absence of the watch-dog.
+"What devil's work----"
+
+"The dog!" chattered Reivers. "Big dog; big as a house. Came out of the
+river. Tried to jump on me. Jumped back into the river.
+Swimming--swimming out there."
+
+Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till it pointed straight
+at Reivers's forehead. He did not step forward, but remained well out of
+reach.
+
+"Steady, old son," he said quietly, "steady, or this'll go off."
+
+Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended to come back to his
+senses.
+
+"Gimme a drink, mister," he pleaded. "I'm seeing things. I was sure
+there was a big dog out there. I'd 'a' sworn I saw him jump into the
+river. Now I see there isn't, but gimme a drink--quick!"
+
+"Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey," snapped Moir over his
+shoulder. "Wilt see about this." He turned the weapon on the cowering
+MacGregor. "Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What's been
+done here; where's Tige?"
+
+"Was it a real dog?" cried Reivers before MacGregor could reply. "I saw
+something--he went into the river."
+
+"Speak, you!" said Moir to the Scotchman. "Speak quick."
+
+"He's telling you straight," replied MacGregor, with a nod toward
+Reivers. "The dog went into the river. I saw him go down, out of sight."
+
+"Out of sight," muttered Reivers, swallowing the drink which Joey had
+brought him. "So it was a real dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he
+jumped back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he went into the
+river and never came out."
+
+Moir stepped over and examined the rock from which Reivers had slipped
+the dog's chain.
+
+"Tammy," he said quietly. Tammy came obediently, stopping a good two
+paces away from Moir.
+
+"See that?" said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy nodded.
+
+"You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?"
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and into tuh river and is
+lost."
+
+"Shanty, I swear----"
+
+"Swear all you want to, lad," said Moir and dropped him cold with a
+light tap on the jaw.
+
+"Pick him up." Moir's moving revolver had seemed to cover every one
+present, but now the muzzle hesitated on Joey. "Carry him into tuh
+shack."
+
+As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little dugout, but stopped
+well out of reach of a possible rush.
+
+"Old son," he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed at Reivers' right
+eye, "old son, if you yell again tonight let it be your prayers, because
+you'll need 'em. Dost hear? I suspect 'twas thy yelling scared Tige into
+the river. Wouldst send thee down after him, only I've use for you in
+tuh pits. Crawl in and lie still if wouldst live till daylight, ---- you.
+Wilt pay for the loss of Tige, I warn you that."
+
+He turned away and Reivers fell back on his blankets chuckling boyishly.
+He was in fine fettle. The Snow-Burner was coming back to his old form,
+and in the delight of the moment's difficulties he had temporarily lost
+the softening memories that had disturbed him of late.
+
+"How was it, old-timer?" he laughed. "Could you pick any flaw in it?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head in wonder.
+
+"I had a man go fey on me once, up on the Slave Lake trail," he said
+slowly. "He let go just such yells as came from your mouth now. I'm
+thinking no man could yell so lest he's fey himself, or has travelled
+wi' auld Nickie and stole some of his music."
+
+"Quite so. Exactly the impression I wished to create," said Reivers. "I
+thank you for your compliment, but your analysis is all wrong. Complete
+control of your vocal organs, that's all. You see I wished to let out
+just such a yell. It was rather hard, because my vocal organs never had
+made such a sound before, and they protested. I forced them to do it.
+
+"The man with the superior mind can force his body to do anything.
+Understand, Mac? It's the superior mind that counts. If you'd had a mind
+superior to Moir's you'd be top dog here, with Moir fetching bones for
+you. As it is, you're doing the fetching, and Moir's growing fat. And
+here I come along, with a mind superior to Moir's, and I'm going to be
+top dog now and gobble the whole proceeds of your squabbling. The mind,
+Mac, the grey stuff in the little bone-box at the top of your neck,
+that's all that counts. Nothing else. And I've got the best grey matter
+in this camp, and I'm going to be top dog as a matter of course."
+
+MacGregor flared up hotly.
+
+"You say, that's all that counts?" he said. "D'you mean to tell me to my
+face that after I'd struck hands with a man to be my partner, as I did
+with Shanty Moir, that I'd turn on him and play him the scurvy trick he
+played me, just because I could? Well, if you say that, mon, you lie,
+and I throw the word smack in your teeth. Go back on my hand-shake, just
+to be top dog and get the bones! God's blood! There's other things
+better than bones, and there's other things that count besides a
+superior mind. How many times do you suppose I could have shot Shanty
+Moir after we'd found this mine?"
+
+"Not once. You didn't have it in you. You couldn't do it. If you could
+you'd have been the superior man, and you're not."
+
+MacGregor thought it over.
+
+"You're right, mon, I couldn't do it. I thank God I couldn't. I'd rather
+be the slave I am at present than be able to do things like that."
+
+"Sentiment, Mac; foolish, unreasonable sentiment."
+
+"Sentiment!" MacGregor spoke hotly, then suddenly subsided. "Yes, you're
+right, lad," he admitted after awhile. "It's naught but sentiment. I see
+now. It's the kind of sentiment that white men die for, and that makes
+them the boss men of the world. Well, lad, I am sorry to hear you talk
+as if 'twas only your skin was white. But I do not see you top dog of
+this camp yet. I'll warrant Shanty Moir didn't allow you to slip a gun
+or knife into camp. And did you notice the little tool he had in his
+hand?"
+
+"A six-shooter," said Reivers. "A crude weapon compared to a good mind,
+MacGregor."
+
+"Aye? I'm glad to hear you say so, lad, for I've only a mind, such as it
+is, left me for a weapon, and I'm quite sure I must overcome the six-gun
+in Shanty's hand ere I ever win back to lay eyes on my daughter Hattie."
+
+"Your daughter Hattie!" Reivers sat up, jarred out of his composure.
+"You forget your daughter Hattie; you hear, MacGregor? And now shut up.
+There's been enough yawping to-night; I want to sleep."
+
+He rolled himself tightly in his blankets. MacGregor crawled miserably
+to his corner and huddled down to sleep as best he could in his cruel
+shackles. The dugout grew as still as a tomb. Faint sounds came from the
+place where Moir and his men were living, but as the night grew older
+these ceased, and a silence as complete and primitive as it knew before
+man bent his steps thither fell over the isolated cavern.
+
+Reivers did not sleep. MacGregor's last words had done the work. "My
+daughter Hattie." Hattie with the clean, pure face of her. Hattie with
+the wide grey eyes; with the look of pain upon her. Curse MacGregor!
+What business had he mentioning that name? Reivers had forgotten, or
+thought he had. He was himself again. And then this old fool--curse him!
+Curse the whole MacGregor tribe. And especially did he curse himself for
+being weak and foolish enough to permit such trifles to interfere with
+his sleep.
+
+He dozed away toward daylight and dreamed that Hattie MacGregor was
+looking at him. The hard look on her face had softened a little, and she
+said she was glad he had sent Neopa back to her lover, Nawa.
+
+"---- you, get out of there!"
+
+In his half-waking Reivers fancied it was his own voice driving the
+picture from his mind.
+
+"Get out, beasts, and get out quick!"
+
+It was Shanty Moir's voice and he was calling to MacGregor and Reivers
+to get up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI--SHANTY MOIR--TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE
+
+
+Reivers came forth from the dugout, stooped and shaking, the drunken
+squaw-man's morning condition to perfection, but in reality alert and
+watchful for the opportunity he was seeking. He had had a bad night, and
+he was anxious to have the job over with and get away with his loot to
+some place where he could forget.
+
+A surprise awaited him outside. Two tin plates loaded with meat and a
+tin cup half full of liquor were placed on the sand before the dugout.
+Ten feet away stood Shanty Moir, his six-shooter covering the two men as
+they emerged. With the instinct of the wild animal that he was, Moir
+knew the value of clamping his hold firmly on his victims in the cold
+grey of morning.
+
+"Drink and eat," he said, satisfied with the humility with which the two
+went to their food. "Eat fast, or you'll go into tuh pit with tuh belly
+empty."
+
+"I thought you hired me for a cook, mister," whined Reivers, as he
+raised the tin cup to his lips. "I want to cook."
+
+"Cook, ----!" sneered Moir. "Tuh squaw'll do all tuh cooking done here.
+Draft beast with tuh Scotch jackass, that's what 'ee be, old ox. Hurry
+up. Wilt have a little of tuh prod?"
+
+Out of the corner of his eye Reivers saw that MacGregor was eying the
+cup of liquor wistfully. Moved by an impulse that was strange to him he
+took a small drink and held out the cup to his companion. As MacGregor
+eagerly reached for it Moir's gun crashed out and the cup flew from
+Reivers's hand.
+
+"Tuh motto of this camp is, 'No treating,'" chuckled Moir. "Hooch is
+good on tuh trail. We're on tuh job now. You get liquor, old son,
+because 'tis medicine to you, and any hooch drinked here, I must
+prescribe."
+
+Across the creek, Tammy, at work building a fire under the thawing-pan,
+heard his chief's words and growled faintly.
+
+"Yes, and 'ee prescribe terrible small doses, too, Shanty," he muttered.
+"A good thing can be over-played. Hast no reason for refusing Joey and
+me a nip before starting work this morning."
+
+Moir, moving like a soft-footed lynx, was across the creek and behind
+Tammy before the latter realised what was coming. From his position Moir
+now dominated the whole camp, and a sickly smile appeared on Tammy's
+mouth.
+
+"Aw, Shanty!" he whined. "Didst only mean it for a joke. Can take a joke
+from an old chum, can't 'ee, Shanty?"
+
+"Get into tuh pit, Tammy," said Moir quietly, pointing with his gun to
+the tunnel where sounds indicated that Joey already was at work.
+
+"Aw, Shanty----"
+
+"Get in!"
+
+Slack-jawed with terror Tammy crawled into the dark tunnel.
+
+"Eh, Joey, ma son!" called Moir down the pit-mouth.
+
+"Aye?" came back the answer.
+
+"Dost 'ee, too, think 'ee should have a drink this morn'?"
+
+"Aye, Shanty," replied the unsuspecting Joey.
+
+"Have a hot one, then!" roared Shanty and kicked a blazing log from
+Tammy's fire into the pit.
+
+A mingling of shrieks and protests greeted its arrival.
+
+"Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not take a joke?"
+
+"Am taking it now, ma sons," laughed Moir, and kicked more brands down
+the tunnel.
+
+Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the tiny pit, Joey and
+Tammy essayed to crawl out. Bang! went Moir's six-shooter and they
+hastily retreated. The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down
+at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the two unfortunate
+men were being suffocated. Moir waited until the faintness of the sounds
+told how far gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers with his
+revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit by this time.
+
+"Step down and drag 'em out, old son," he said. "Come now, no hanging
+back. Tuh trigger on this gun is filed down so she pulls very light."
+
+Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling with fear, and
+toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious men out, though he could
+have walked away with one under each arm.
+
+"Throw water on 'em. Splash 'em good."
+
+Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting up, coughing and sneezing,
+and trying their best to make Moir believe they had only been joking.
+
+"Good enough, ma sons; so was I," chuckled Moir. "Now back to tuh job,
+and if ever you doubt who's top man here you'll stay in tuh pit till
+you're browned well enough to eat. Dost hear me?"
+
+"Aye, Shanty," said the two men humbly, and hurried back to their tasks.
+
+"And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and get into tuh harness,"
+commanded Moir.
+
+He continued to hold the gun in his hand and motioned to the sledge near
+the thawing-pan. High side-boards had been placed on the sledge, making
+it capable of holding twice its former load, and a looped rope
+supplemented the traces to which MacGregor was so ignominiously hitched.
+
+"Take hold of the rope, old son," directed Moir.
+
+He did not approach as MacGregor resignedly led the way to the sledge.
+Tammy turned from his thawing-pan to hitch the Scotchman to his traces
+and to strap down his hands. Moir stood back, the gun in his hand,
+dominating all three.
+
+"Now into tuh pit; Joey's got a load waiting," he commanded. "And one
+whine out of you, old ox, and you get the prod. Hi-jah! Giddap!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII--THE SNOW-BURNER WORKS FOR TWO
+
+
+With MacGregor leading the way, Reivers humbly picked up his rope and
+helped drag the sledge into the mine. The tunnel, high and broad enough
+only for two men to crawl abreast, ran at a steep slant into the sand
+for probably twenty-five feet. At its end it spread into a small room in
+which Joey was at work, chopping loose chunks of frozen earth.
+
+One glance around and Reivers knew from experience that this room had
+been the home of the pocket, and that, unless the signs lied, the pocket
+soon would be worked out. Judging by the extent of the excavation the
+pocket had been a good-sized one, and the amount of dust and nuggets
+taken from it undoubtedly would foot up to a neat sum. Yes, it would be
+a tidy fortune. It would be plenty to give him a new start in life,
+plenty to pay him for the trouble he had gone to, plenty even to pay him
+for the baseness of his present position.
+
+He obeyed Joey meekly when ordered, with curses and insults, to load the
+sledge. He could have throttled Joey down there in the mine without a
+sound coming up to warn those above of what was happening, but Moir's
+conduct of the morning had made an impression upon Reivers. A man who
+kept himself out of reach, who kept his six-shooter pointed at you all
+the time, and who could shoot tin cups out of your moving hand, was not
+a man to be despised.
+
+The first hour of work that day convinced Moir and his henchmen that
+their original unflattering estimate of Reivers was correct. Even a
+close observer, regarding him during that period of probation, would
+have seen nothing to indicate that he was anything but what Shanty Moir
+had judged him to be. A miserable, broken-down squaw-man, without a will
+of his own, and only one ambition--to clamour for as much liquor as
+possible--that was the character that Reivers played perfectly for the
+benefit of Moir and his two men.
+
+At first, they kept an eye on him, watching to see if by any chance the
+old fool might be dangerous. They discovered that he would be dangerous
+if turned loose--to their supply of liquor. Beyond that he had,
+apparently, not a single aim in the world. His physical weakness, they
+soon discovered, was exactly what was to be expected of a whisky bloat.
+He was able to help haul the sledge-loads of frozen earth up the incline
+of the shaft, and that was all. Even that left him puffing and
+trembling.
+
+"Is an old ox, as 'ee said, Shanty, with even tuh horns burnt off him by
+tuh hooch," said Joey, after the first few loads. "Keep a little o' tuh
+liquor running down his throat each day and he'll be a good draft beast
+to us. Nothing to fear o' him. Didst well when 'ee picked him out,
+chief."
+
+They stopped watching him. He was harmless. Which was exactly the frame
+of mind which Reivers had worked to create.
+
+MacGregor alone knew how cleverly Reivers was playing his part, and he
+regarded his new companion in misery with greater awe and swore beneath
+his breath in unholy admiration. He had excellent opportunity to
+appreciate Reivers's ability to play the part of a weakling, for the
+Snow-Burner, when not observed, caught his free hand in MacGregor's
+traces and pulled the full weight of the heavy sledge as if it had been
+a boy's plaything.
+
+"Eh, mon!" gasped the weakened Scotchman in relief. "I begin to
+comprehend now. 'Tis a surprise you're planning for Shanty Moir. Oh,
+aye! 'Tis a braw joke. But you maun l'ave me finish him, man; 'tis my
+right. And I thank you and will repay you well for the favour you are
+doing me in my present bunged-up condition."
+
+"Favour your eye!" snapped Reivers. "It's easier to pull the whole thing
+than to have you dragging on it. Don't think I'm doing it for your sake.
+You'll have a rude awakening, my friend, if you're building any hopes on
+me."
+
+"I dinna understand you," said MacGregor with a shake of his head.
+"You're different from any man I ever met. But at all events, you've
+made the loads lighter, and I think I must have perished soon had you
+not done so."
+
+"Shut up!" hissed Reivers irritably. "I tell you I'm doing it because
+it's easier for me."
+
+His attitude toward the old man was brutally domineering when they were
+alone and openly abusive when they were in the presence of Moir or the
+others. He showered foul epithets upon him, pretended to shoulder the
+greater part of the work on him, and abused him in a fashion that won
+the approval of the three brutes over them.
+
+"Make him do his share, old sonny," roared Moir. "Wilt have tuh prod?
+Joey, give him tuh prod so he can poke up tuh jackass when he lags
+back."
+
+"Don't need no prod," boasted Reivers. "I can handle him without any
+prod. Come on, pull up there, you loafer. Think I'm going to do it all?"
+
+MacGregor on such occasions would hold his head low to hide the gleam in
+his eyes and the grin that strove for room on his tightly pressed lips.
+His harness was hanging slack; Reivers took more of the load upon
+himself with every curse that he uttered.
+
+All through the day it was Reivers' strength that pulled the heavy
+sledge up the dirt incline of the tunnel, and at night, when the day's
+work was done, and MacGregor, tottering feebly toward his bunk, fell
+helpless through the dugout's flap, Reivers picked him up, laid him down
+gently and placed his own blanket beneath his head.
+
+"God bless you, lad!" whispered MacGregor.
+
+"Shut up!" hissed Reivers. "I don't want any talk like that."
+
+He looked down at the prostrate man for a moment. Then with a muttered
+curse he unloosened the straps that bound MacGregor's arms to his sides
+and hurled himself over to his own side of the shack. He was very angry
+with himself. Pity and succour for the helpless had never before been a
+part of his creed. Why should he trouble about MacGregor?
+
+"I'll have to strap you up again in the morning," he flung out suddenly,
+"but it won't hurt to have your hands free for the night. Shut up--lay
+still! I hear somebody coming."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII--"THE PENALTY OF A WHITE MAN'S MIND"
+
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" It was Tillie who came, bearing the evening food, and
+Reivers crept out on the sand to meet her. "Oh, Snow-Burner," she
+whispered quietly, "I am weary of this camp. The air is bad, and the
+country is not open. It is in my heart to poison Iron Hair as soon as
+the Snow-Burner says we are ready to go from this place."
+
+Reivers stared at her. A short while ago he would not have been shocked
+in the slightest degree to have heard this--to her, natural speech--fall
+from Tillie's lips. But of late another woman, another kind of woman,
+had been in his thoughts, and Tillie's words left him speechless for the
+moment.
+
+The squaw continued placidly--
+
+"The Snow-Burner comes here after gold?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And when he has the gold we go away?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good. The pig, Iron Hair, wears a great belt of buckskin about his
+middle. The gold is in there, much of it. I will poison him to-night,
+and we will take the belt and go away from here in the morning."
+
+Reivers made no reply. Here was success offered him without so much as a
+move of his hand. He need have no part in it, none at all. Tillie would
+bring him the gold belt. That was what he had come for; and hitherto he
+had never let anything in the world stand between him and the
+gratification of his desires. Yet he hesitated.
+
+"Is there more gold here than Iron Hair wears in his belt?" asked
+Tillie.
+
+Reivers shook his head.
+
+"Then why wait?" Her whisper was full of amazement. "It is not like the
+Snow-Burner. Was there ever a man who could make him do his will? And
+yet now the Snow-Burner labours for Iron Hair like a woman."
+
+"Like a woman?" He repeated her bold words in surprise, while she sat
+humbly awaiting the careless, back-hand blow which knocked her rolling
+on the sand. "And was that hand like the hand of a woman?" he asked.
+
+Tillie picked herself up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. It was long
+since the Snow-Burner had struck her strongly.
+
+"Oh, Snow-Burner!" she whispered proudly as she crawled back to his
+side. "Why do we wait? It is all ready. The Snow-Burner knows where the
+gold is that he came for. Tillie will do her share. The sleep-medicine
+is sewed in the corner of my blanket. There is enough to kill this big
+pig, Iron Hair, and his men three times over. Will not the Snow-Burner
+give the sign for Tillie to put the sleep-medicine in their food? Then
+they will sleep and not awaken, and the Snow-Burner and Tillie can go
+away with the gold. Was it not so that the Snow-Burner wished to do?"
+
+Reivers nodded. That was what he wished.
+
+It was very simple. Only a nod. After that--the sleep-medicine, the
+tasteless Indian poison, the secret of which Tillie possessed, and which
+she would have used on a hundred men had Reivers given the word.
+
+Yes, it was very simple--except that he could not forget Hattie
+MacGregor. The memory of her each hour had grown clearer, more
+torturing. Because of it he had taken the killing load of work from her
+father's shoulders; because of it he was growing weak. He swore
+mutteringly as he thought of it. He had permitted her memory to soften
+him, to make a boy of him. But now he was himself again. Tillie's words
+had done their work. He turned toward the squaw, and she saw by the look
+in his eyes that the Snow-Burner at last was going to give the fatal
+sign.
+
+"To-night," she pleaded. "Let it be to-night. It is a bad camp here. The
+air is not good. Iron Hair is a pig. Let me give the sleep-medicine
+to-night; then we go from here in the morning--together."
+
+She crept closer to him, slyly smiling up at him; and suddenly Reivers
+flung her away with a movement of loathing and sprang up, tall and
+straight.
+
+"No," he said quietly, "not to-night." And Tillie crouched at his feet.
+
+"Snow-Burner," she whispered, "I hear Iron Hair and his men talk. They
+go away soon. They take the gold with them. Does not the Snow-Burner
+want the gold?"
+
+Reivers looked down upon her. He was standing up, stiff and proud, as he
+should stand, but as he had not stood since he had begun to play at
+being a drunken squaw-man.
+
+"I do not want you to help me get the gold," he said slowly. "I do not
+want you to give Iron Hair the sleep-medicine, to-night, or any night. I
+will take the gold from Iron Hair without your help. I have spoken."
+
+He stood looking down at her, and Tillie, looking up at him, once more
+was reminded that he was a white man and that the vast gulf between them
+never might be bridged. Wearily, hopelessly, she rose to her feet.
+
+"The Snow-Burner has spoken; I have heard," she whispered, and went
+humbly back into the large dugout.
+
+Reivers laughed a small laugh of bitterness as he heard the flap drop
+behind her. He threw his head far back and gazed up at the slit of
+starlit sky that showed above the mouth of the cavern, and for once in
+his life he felt the common insignificance of human-kind alone in the
+vast scheme of Nature. He was weak; he had thrown away the easy way to
+success; he had let the memory of Hattie MacGregor's face, flaring
+before his eyes in the instant that Tillie thrust her lips up to his,
+beat him.
+
+He threw up his great arms and held them out, tense and hard as bars of
+living steel. He felt of his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his legs,
+and he laughed sardonically.
+
+"Body, you're just as superior to other men's bodies as you ever were,"
+he mused. "Yes, Body, you're just as fit to rend and prey on others as
+ever. But you're handicapped now. You're not permitted to do things as
+you used to do them. Body, you're paying the penalty of being burdened
+with a white man's mind."
+
+MacGregor looked up as Reivers re-entered the dugout bearing the evening
+food. A tiny fire in one corner lighted up the room and by its
+flickering flames he saw Reivers' face.
+
+"Blood o' God!" whispered the old man in awe. "What's come over you,
+man?"
+
+He rose on his elbow and peered more closely.
+
+"Man--man--you ha' not overcome Shanty Moir? You have not finished him
+without letting me----"
+
+Reivers laughed.
+
+"What are you talking about? Do I look as if I'd been fighting?"
+
+MacGregor studied him seriously.
+
+"I donno," said he slowly. "I donno that you look as if you had been
+fighting. But you come in with your head high up, and the look in your
+eyes of a man who has conquered. That I do know. Tell me, lad, what's
+taken place wi' you outside?"
+
+"None of your business," snapped Reivers. "Here's your supper." And he
+returned to his side of the dugout to sit down to think.
+
+He was on his mettle now. He had put to one side the easy, certain way
+to success that Tillie had offered. Success was not to be so easy as he
+had thought. Thus far it had been easy. He had met Moir, he had won his
+way into the mine, he had learned where the gold was hidden, all as he
+had planned. Remained to get the gold and get safely away. The time to
+do it in was short.
+
+Reivers' experienced miner's eyes had told him that the pocket was
+perilously near to being mined out. Any day, any hour now, and the
+pay-streak which they were following might end in barren dirt. That
+would be the end of his opportunity. Moir and his men would waste no
+time in the Dead Lands after making their cleanup. They would pack and
+travel at once, southward, to the railroad. They would not permit even
+so harmless an individual as a sodden squaw-man to trail them. Hence,
+Reivers knew that he must find or make his opportunity without waste of
+time and strike the instant it was found or made.
+
+He had been unable to find an opportunity that first day. Moir in his
+camp was a different man from Moir on the trail. He was the boss man
+here, and Reivers granted him ungrudged admiration for it. Liquor was
+his master on the trail; here he was master of it. His treatment of Joey
+and Tammy in the morning had explained his attitude on that question too
+clearly to make it worth while to attempt to entice him into a bout at
+drinking. Moir was boss here, boss of himself and others, and he always
+had his six-shooter handy to prove it.
+
+Tammy and Joey wore knives at their hips, but no guns. Moir's 30.40
+rifle hung carelessly on a nail near the door of his dugout. This had
+puzzled Reivers at first. Would a bad man like Moir be so simple as to
+leave his rifle where any one might lay hands on it, and carry a
+six-shooter in a manner to provoke a gun-fight? When he was ordered to
+carry a pail of water to the dugout Reivers managed to take a careful
+look at the rifle, and the puzzle was explained. The breech-block had
+been taken out and the fine weapon was no more deadly than any club
+eight pounds in weight.
+
+His respect for Moir had increased with this discovery. Evidently Moir
+was not so thick-headed after all. He took no chances. The only
+effective shooting-iron in camp was his six-shooter and, with this he
+was thoroughly master of the situation.
+
+In the first hour Reivers had noticed that Moir had a system of guarding
+himself. It was the system of the primitive fighting man and it
+consisted solely of: let no man get at your back. At no time, whether in
+the mine, at the washing-pans, in the open, or in the dugout did Moir
+permit any one to get behind him. He made no distinction. In the pit he
+stood with Joey before him. At the pans he worked behind Tammy. When the
+others grouped together he whirled as smoothly as a lynx if any one made
+to pass in his rear. Even when he sat at ease in the dugout with Tillie
+he placed his back against the bare stone wall at the rear of the room.
+So much Reivers had seen during his first day in the camp.
+
+"Does he sleep soundly at night?" he asked suddenly.
+
+"Who?" asked MacGregor.
+
+"Moir, of course."
+
+"Soundly?" The Scotchman gritted his teeth. "Aye as soundly as a lynx
+lying down by its kill in a wolf country."
+
+Reivers smiled a grim smile. There was no chance, then, of rushing
+Shanty Moir in his sleep. It would be harder to get the gold and get
+away than he had expected. In fact, the difficulties of it presented
+quite a problem. He liked problems, did the Snow-Burner, and his smile
+grew more grim as he rolled himself in his blankets and lay down to
+wait, dream-tortured by pictures of Hattie MacGregor, for the coming of
+daylight of the day in which he had resolved to force the problem to
+solution.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV--THE MADNESS OF "HELL-CAMP" REIVERS
+
+
+The day opened as the day before had opened. A bellow from Shanty Moir,
+and Reivers strapped MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled
+out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood a distance away, the
+big six-shooter balanced easily in his hand. But this morning Joey and
+Tammy, over by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance of their
+two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly sensed something new and
+sinister afoot. At the sight of MacGregor's decrepitude, as, stiff and
+tottering, he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy strove vainly to
+conceal the wolfish grins that appeared on their ugly faces.
+
+"Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep no longer," said Tammy.
+"Hast been a fair animal for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on
+his oats no more."
+
+"One fair day's work left in him," said Joey, appraising MacGregor
+shrewdly. "Will knock off a little early, eh, Shanty, so's to have tuh
+light to see him swim."
+
+"Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of dust," replied Shanty,
+and the three roared fiendishly together.
+
+"You poor, misbegotten spawn," said MacGregor, quietly beginning to eat,
+eyeing them one after the other. "I'll live to spit on the shamed
+corpses of the lot of you."
+
+As the day's work began, Reivers started to calculate each move that he
+and Moir made with a view to discovering the opportunity he was looking
+for. All that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without giving the
+latter an opportunity to use his gun.
+
+The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and Tammy armed with
+knives, he accepted as a matter of course. But a six-shooter in the
+hands of a man who could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade too
+much even for him to venture against. The manner in which Moir had shot
+up the tin cup the morning before proved how alert and sure was his
+trigger-finger. To make the suspicion of a move toward him, with the gun
+in his hand, would have spelled instant ruin.
+
+As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was more vigilant than ever. He
+kept far away from the pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or
+hanging ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first load of
+sand he understood why.
+
+The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing the drippings of dust
+washed down from the pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir
+was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of affairs. The
+fortune was in his grasp; he would break camp and be off in the same
+hour that the sand began to run low-grade.
+
+He took no part in the work to-day. He merely stood and watched. And
+Reivers watched back, and the hours passed, and the short day began to
+draw to a close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty Moir
+and live had presented itself.
+
+As the early twilight began to creep down into the cavern, the ugly
+grins with which Joey and Tammy regarded MacGregor began to increase.
+Suddenly Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw up both hands.
+
+"Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!" he shouted.
+
+"All out!" came Moir's bellow, as if he had been waiting for the signal.
+
+Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came over and stood behind
+Reivers and MacGregor who came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them.
+
+"Take that load down yonder!" ordered Moir, pointing to the black tunnel
+into which the creek disappeared in leaving the cavern.
+
+Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces behind the sledge. Moir,
+gun in hand, walked ten feet behind them.
+
+"Whoa!" he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor had drawn up against the
+cliff beside the stream's exit. "You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma
+sons. Then over with it quick."
+
+With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor's traces. They held him
+between them, and in his bound and weakened condition he was unable to
+struggle or turn around.
+
+Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor into the deep water
+in the tunnel. He sank like a stone and the current sucked him in.
+
+"Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!" laughed Moir, but he laughed a
+trifle too soon.
+
+In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into the darkness of the
+tunnel his face bobbed up above the waters. He looked up, and looked
+straight into Reivers's eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was the
+same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor the day when
+Reivers had left her cabin.
+
+Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad. He hit Tammy so hard and
+true that he flew through the air and struck against Moir. The next
+instant Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water, groping
+for MacGregor, while the current swept him into the total darkness.
+
+He heard the bullet from Moir's revolver strike the water behind him in
+the instant that his hands found MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he
+pulled the old man's head above water; then the current whirled him and
+his burden away. It whisked him downstream with a power irresistible. It
+threw him from side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked him
+and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools and spewed them up again.
+
+He bumped his head against the stone roof of the tunnel and swore. The
+roof was a scant foot above the water. He put his hand up. The roof was
+getting closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was only room
+for their upturned faces above the water.
+
+Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the end! The joke was on
+him. After all he had gone through, he was to drown like a silly fool
+through a fool's impulse.
+
+Presently roof and water came together. For a moment Reivers fought with
+his vast strength, holding his own for an instant against the current,
+hanging on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort. The
+current proved too strong. It sucked them under; the water closed above
+them. They were whirled and buffeted to the last breath of life in them,
+and then suddenly their heads slipped above water and they were looking
+straight up at the gray Winter sky.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV--A SURPRISE FOR SHANTY MOIR
+
+
+Reivers caught hold of a spear of rock the instant his head came out of
+water, and held on. He did not try to think or understand at first.
+Sufficient to know that he was alive and to pump his lungs full of the
+air they were crying for. He held MacGregor under his left arm, and he
+rather wondered that he hadn't let him go in that moment when he went
+under. MacGregor was beginning to revive, too. Reivers looked around.
+
+There was not much to see. They were in a tiny opening in the rocks, a
+yard or two in length. It was a duplicate of Moir's cavern on a
+miniature scale, except that here the rock walls were not high or
+impossible to climb. For this space the brook showed itself once more to
+the sun, then vanished again under the cliffs.
+
+"Is it Heaven?" gasped MacGregor, only half conscious.
+
+"Nearer hell," laughed Reivers.
+
+He lifted himself and his burden out of the water to a resting-place on
+a shelf of rock. For a minute or two he sat looking up at the rock walls
+and the grey sky above them. He looked down at the water, at the spot
+where they had been spewed from death back into life. And then he leaped
+upright and laughed, laughed so that the rocks rang with it, laughed so
+that MacGregor's senses cleared and he looked at his saviour in
+consternation. His laughter was the uncontrollable, heart-free laughter
+of the man who suddenly sees a great joke upon his enemy.
+
+He smote MacGregor between the shoulder-blades so he gasped and coughed.
+He tore the straps and harness from his arms, body and legs, tossed him
+up in the air, shook him and set him down on the rock.
+
+"I've got him!" he said at last. "Oh, Shanty Moir, what a surprise you
+have coming to your own black self!"
+
+MacGregor, with his senses cleared enough to realise that he was alive,
+and to remember how the miracle had come about, said quietly--
+
+"Man, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a man do."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Diving into that hole after me."
+
+"Oh, to ---- with that! That's past. The past doesn't count--not when the
+very immediate future is so full of juice and interest as happens to be
+the case just now. I've got Shanty Moir, old-timer. Do you understand?
+He's mine and all that he's got is mine, and he's going to be surprised.
+Oh, how surprised he's going to be!"
+
+MacGregor looked down at the two yards of rushing water, up at the rock
+walls and then at the jubilant Reivers.
+
+"I dinna see it," he said dryly.
+
+"Really?" Reivers suddenly became interested in him as if he presented a
+rare mental problem. "Can't you make that simple mind of yours work out
+the simple solution of this problem?"
+
+MacGregor shook his head.
+
+"What I see is this: we're alive, and that only for the present. We're
+in a little hole in the Dead Lands. Happen we climb out of the hole, we
+have no dogs, food, or weapons. The nearest camp is two good days'
+mushing, with good fresh dogs. Too far. If I could manage to stagger
+five miles I'd surprise myself. There is not so much as a dry match on
+us. No, I maun say, lad, my simple mind does not see the solution of the
+problem."
+
+"Try again, Mac," urged Reivers. "Make your mind work. What do we need
+to make our condition blessed among men; what do men need to be
+well-fitted on the Winter trail? You can make your mind do that sum,
+can't you?"
+
+"We need," replied MacGregor doggedly, "dogs, and food, and fire, and
+weapons."
+
+"Correct. And now what's the next thought that your grey matter produces
+after that masterpiece?"
+
+"That the nearest place where we may obtain these things is too far away
+for us to make, unless happen we meet some one on the trail, which is
+not likely."
+
+"Pessimism!" laughed Reivers. "Too much caution stunts the possibility
+of the mind. Interesting demonstration of the fact, with your mind as an
+example." He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone wall
+from under which they had just emerged. "What's the other side of those
+rocks, Mac?"
+
+"Shanty Moir and his six-shooter."
+
+"And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges, and gold, everything,
+everything to make us kings of the country, Mac! And they're ours--ours
+as surely as if we had 'em in our hands now."
+
+"I dinna see it," said MacGregor.
+
+"Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang get out of their camp?"
+
+"Up-stream, by the creek, of course."
+
+"Any other way?"
+
+"There's the way we came--but they do not know that."
+
+"Correct, and when we've plugged up that single exit they can't get away
+from us, Mac, and then we've got 'em!"
+
+MacGregor's eyes lighted up, then he grew dour again.
+
+"We have got 'em, if we plug up the river, I see," he admitted, "but
+when we have got them, what good does it do us? What are you going to
+do, then?"
+
+"That's the surprise, Mac; I won't tell even you." He looked swiftly for
+a way up the rock walls and found one. "The first question is: Do you
+think you can climb after me up that crevice there?"
+
+"I could climb through hell and back again if it would help in getting
+Shanty Moir."
+
+"All right. I can't quite give you hell, but I'll give Shanty Moir an
+imitation of it before he's much older. Come on. We've got some work to
+do before it gets dark."
+
+He led the way into the crevice he had marked for the climb up from the
+hole and boosted MacGregor up before him. It was slow, hard work, but
+MacGregor's weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping down upon
+Reivers' shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently pulled him down, took
+him on his back and crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his
+burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods away smoke was
+rising through the opening above Moir's camp, and at the sight of it
+MacGregor's numbed faculties came to life.
+
+"Lemme go, man!" he pleaded as Reivers caught him as he staggered toward
+the opening. "It's my chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from
+up here."
+
+"Save your strength; I've got use for it," said Reivers. "Can you walk?
+All right. Come on, then, and don't try to get near that gap."
+
+Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way carefully around the big
+opening till they came to the opposite side of the mass of rocks, where
+the creek entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. Crawling
+and slipping, they made their way down until they stood beside the bed
+of the stream.
+
+"Now to work, Mac," said Reivers, and seizing a rock bore it to the
+tunnel's mouth and dropped it into the water.
+
+"Aye, aye!" chuckled MacGregor, as he understood the significance of
+this move. "We'll wall the curs in."
+
+For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried and rolled the heaviest
+rocks he could move into position across the tunnel, and MacGregor
+staggered beneath smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their work
+was finished there was a rock wall across the mouth of the tunnel which
+it would have been almost impossible to tear down, especially from the
+inside.
+
+It was growing dark when the task was completed, and Reivers nodded in
+great satisfaction.
+
+"That'll hold 'em long enough for my purpose, and we just made it in
+time," he said. "Now come on up the mountain again, and then for the
+surprise."
+
+"The surprise, man?" panted MacGregor as he toiled up the rocks. "What
+are you going to do? Tell me what's in your head?"
+
+"Hush, hush!" laughed Reivers, pulling him up to the top. "Your position
+is that of the onlooker. It would spoil it for you if you knew what was
+going to happen."
+
+"An onlooker--me--when it's a case of getting Shanty Moir? Don't say that,
+lad. Don't leave me out. He's mine. You know that by all the rights of
+men and gods it's my right to get him. Give me my just share of
+revenge."
+
+"Shut up!"
+
+They were nearing the brink of the opening. Reivers' hand covered
+MacGregor's mouth as they leaned over and looked down upon the
+unsuspecting men in the cavern below.
+
+In the shut-in spot night had fallen. On the sand before the dugout
+Tillie was cooking over a brisk fire, going about her work as calmly as
+if nothing of moment had happened during the afternoon. Near by, Moir
+and Joey were packing the dog-sledge and repairing harness, evidently
+preparing to take the trail after the evening meal. Tammy sat by the
+fire, holding together with both hands the pieces of his nose which
+Reivers' blow had smashed flat on his face.
+
+Reivers scarcely looked at the men, but began to scan the walls for a
+way to get down. The walls slanted inwardly from the top, and at first
+it seemed impossible that a man could get safely into the cavern without
+the aid of a rope. But presently Reivers saw that for thirty feet
+directly above the large dugout the rocks were ragged enough to afford
+plenty of holds for hands and feet.
+
+The walls were nearly fifty feet high. If he could reach to the bottom
+of this rough space he would be hanging with his feet, ten or twelve
+feet above the cavern floor.
+
+"Good enough," he said aloud. "It's a cinch."
+
+"A cinch it is," breathed MacGregor softly. "We'll roll up a pile of
+rocks and kill 'em like rats in a pit. But you maun leave Shanty to me,
+lad, I----"
+
+"Shut up!" Reivers thrust the Scotchman back from the brink. "Do you
+want me to go after the harness for you? I told you that your job was to
+be the onlooker. I settle this thing with Shanty Moir myself."
+
+"But man----"
+
+"Moir kicked me. Do you understand? He placed his dirty foot on me. Do
+you see why I'm going to do it by myself?"
+
+"Placed his foot on you? God's blood! What has he done to me--robbed me,
+made an animal of me, stabbed me with a prod! Who has the better right
+to his foul life?"
+
+"It isn't a case of right, but of might, Mac," chuckled Reivers. "I've
+got the better might. Therefore, will you give me your word that you'll
+refrain from interfering with my actions until I've paid my debt to Mr.
+Moir, or must I go back after the harness and strap you up?"
+
+"Cruel----"
+
+"Promise!"
+
+"I promise," said MacGregor. "But it's wrong, sore wrong. I protest."
+
+"All right. Protest all you want to, but do it silently. Not another
+word or sound out of you now until the job's done."
+
+Together they crawled back to the brink above the large dugout and
+peered down into the darkening cavern. In a flash Reivers had his
+mackinaw and boots off. The cooking-fire was deserted. No one was in
+sight. Moir and his men and Tillie were at supper in the dugout, and
+Reivers's chance had come. He swung himself silently over the brink and
+hung by a handhold on the rock.
+
+"Don't interfere, Mac," he said warningly. "Not till I've paid Shanty
+Moir for the touch of his foot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI--A FIGHT THAT WAS A FIGHT
+
+
+With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged feet forward and caught
+toe-holds on the rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right
+hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid piece of protruding
+rock. Having tested it thoroughly he let go his holds with both feet and
+left hand and dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. Above
+him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the brink of the opening, gasped
+twice, once because he was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the
+bottom, and again when his right hand took the shock of his full weight
+without loosening its grip.
+
+Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he swung his feet inward
+again, secured another hold, lowered his right hand to another sure
+grip, and so made his startling way down the inwardly slanting cliff.
+
+At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, unable to stand the
+strain of watching. Had Reivers been able to see on top of the cliff he
+would have laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in the snow,
+earnestly praying.
+
+Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer down once more. Then he
+knew his prayers had been answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his
+hands, directly above the front of the large dugout, and his feet were
+less than ten feet above the bottom of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop
+of thanksgiving and gathered to him an armful of stones.
+
+For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and appraising the
+situation. He loosened his hold until his whole weight hung on the ends
+of his fingers.
+
+"Come out and fight, Shanty!" he bellowed suddenly. "Come out, you cheap
+cur, and fight like a man!"
+
+Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild animal on the instant of
+the weird challenge from above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in
+hand, tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and Reivers
+dropped and struck him neatly the instant he appeared.
+
+It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir's neck, Reivers would
+have killed him. He had no wish to kill him--yet. He landed on Moir's
+shoulders and the six-shooter went flying away as the two bodies crashed
+together and dropped on the sand with a thud.
+
+Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. Tammy and Joey were only
+a step behind Moir. Like wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like
+wildcats they rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then Moir
+was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, but he saw enough of
+the situation to satisfy him. Before him was something to fight, to
+rush, to annihilate. And he rushed.
+
+Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped joyously, a stone in each
+hand, as Reivers leaped forward to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir
+had expected a grapple, and Reivers' fist caught him full in the mouth
+and threw him back on his shoulders a man's length away.
+
+When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face had the appearance of
+crushed meat, but he growled through the blood and rushed again. Reivers
+struck, and Moir's nose disappeared in a welter of blood and gristle. He
+struck again, but Moir came on and locked him in his huge arms.
+
+Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were out. They saw their chance
+and leaped forward to strike at Reivers' back. With his life depending
+upon it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir's great body around, and Joey and
+Tammy stayed their hands barely in time to save plunging their knives
+into the back of their chief.
+
+Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two stones the size of his
+head. One struck Joey on the shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain
+into the dugout; the other dropped at Reivers' feet. With a yell he
+hurled Moir from him and snatched up the stone. Joey, reading his doom
+in the Snow-Burner's eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The
+heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck the water with a
+splash and was gone.
+
+But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms licked around from
+behind and raised Reivers off his feet. The hold was broken as suddenly
+as it was clamped on. They were face to face again, and face to face
+they fought, trampling the sand and the fire indiscriminately. Each blow
+from Reivers now splashed blood from Moir's face as from a soaked
+sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly:
+
+"That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That for the dirt you did me!"
+
+The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met the stone wall and
+came whining back. They cowered, jammering in fright at the terrible
+combat which raged, minute after minute, before them.
+
+Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A knife, dropped by Joey
+or Tammy, gleamed in the light of the fire. She picked it up. With a
+smile of great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly toward the
+struggling men. They were locked in a clinch now, and with the smile
+widening she moved around behind Moir's broad back. The knife flashed
+above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he wrenched an arm free
+and knocked the knife away.
+
+"Keep away!" he roared, springing out of the clinch. "This is between
+Iron Hair and me."
+
+Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing himself Reivers had hurled
+Moir to one side, and Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands
+nearly touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when Reivers had
+dropped upon him. Like the stab of a snake his hand reached out and
+snapped it up.
+
+"Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!" shrieked MacGregor and hurled
+another stone.
+
+His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir squarely on his big
+head and drove his face into the sand. He never moved after it.
+
+Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor on his knees was
+chanting his war-cry, his thanks that vengeance had not been denied him.
+Reivers smiled.
+
+"That's a good song, Mac, whatever it is!" he laughed, when the maddened
+Scotchman had grown quieter. "But the fact remains that you disobeyed my
+orders and interfered."
+
+"Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the black soul of Shanty
+Moir back to his brother the devil!" chanted MacGregor. "But, lad, I did
+not interfere until you'd paid him in full--until you'd paid double--for
+the kick he gave you. Three of them there were, and they were armed and
+you with bare fists! God's blood! Never since men stood up with fist to
+fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, and two men dead! Dead
+you are, you poor pups! And I can tell by the way you lived where you're
+roasting now.
+
+"Ah, ah! I ha' seen a man fight; I ha' seen what I shall never forget,
+and, poor stick that I am compared to him, I ha' e'en had a hand in it
+myself. Man, man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your belly's
+full of battle?"
+
+Reivers spoke quietly and coldly.
+
+"Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall as you can. I'll take
+the heavy stones from this side." He turned to Tillie. "Take the big
+belt from Iron Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the
+trail. We march to-night."
+
+And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron Hair, the beaten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII--THE SNOW-BURNER PAYS
+
+
+"And now the Snow-Burner has his gold. He has robbed the great Iron Hair
+in his own camp. Great is the Snow-Burner! Now he has the gold which he
+longed for. Now he is rich. The white men will bow down to him. Great is
+the Snow-Burner!"
+
+Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he stood on the edge
+of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly crooned the saga of his success. The
+gold belt of Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great
+weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it contained. The
+dogs were held in leash, eager to be quit of the harsh rock-chasms
+through which they had just travelled, and to strike their lope on a
+trail over the open country beyond.
+
+MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge. The exertions and
+excitement of the afternoon had exhausted him in his weakened condition.
+He sat slumped together, only half conscious of what was going on. In a
+moment he would be sound asleep.
+
+And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He had the gold, and he had
+a supply of food and a strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail.
+All that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the south. Two,
+three, four days' travelling and he would strike the railroad. And the
+railroad ran to tide-water, and on the water steamboats would carry him
+away to the world he had planned to return to.
+
+It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie's scheme for getting
+rid of Moir. But he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it. He wanted
+to do just one thing now, above all others, and that was what he set out
+to do.
+
+He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around MacGregor's middle.
+MacGregor was sound asleep now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound
+him carefully in place. Tillie's chant died down in astonishment.
+
+"We take the old one with us?" she asked.
+
+"We do," said Reivers. "Hi-yah! Together there! Mush, mush up!"
+
+To Tillie's joy he turned the dogs to the northwest, in the direction of
+the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner was lost to her; she knew that,
+when he had refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something to
+have him come back to the camp.
+
+Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought his team up the
+river-bed to Tillie's camp in the morning. MacGregor was out of his head
+by then, and for the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat in
+the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him soft food which the old
+squaws had prepared. In the evening he again tied the old man and the
+belt of gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie had read her
+doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she came out to the sledge prepared
+to follow.
+
+"You do not come any farther," said Reivers as he picked up the
+dog-whip.
+
+Tillie nodded.
+
+"I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a great man among the white
+women. Will the Snow-Burner come back--some time?"
+
+"I will never come back."
+
+"Ah-hh-hh!" Tillie's breath came fiercely. "So there is one white woman,
+then. If I had known----"
+
+But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and hurrying out of
+hearing.
+
+MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food, but still weak, lifted
+his head and looked around as the sledge sped over the frozen snow.
+
+"A new trail to me, lad," he said. "Where to, now?"
+
+"On a fool's trail," laughed Reivers bitterly, and drove on.
+
+Next morning MacGregor recognised the land ahead.
+
+"Straight for Dumont's Camp we're heading, lad," he said. "Is it there
+we go?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They came to Dumont's Camp as night fell. Reivers halted and made sundry
+enquiries.
+
+"In a shack half ways between here and Fifty Mile," was the substance of
+the replies.
+
+"Hi-yah! Mush, mush up!" and they were on the trail again.
+
+At daylight the next day, from a rise in the land, he saw the shack that
+had been designated. Smoke was rising from the chimney, and a small
+figure that he knew even at that distance came out, filled a pail with
+snow and went in again.
+
+Reivers stopped his dogs some distance from the shack. He threw
+MacGregor, gold belt and all, over his shoulder and went up to the door
+and knocked. For a second or two he smiled triumphantly as Hattie
+MacGregor opened the door and stood speechless at what she saw. Then he
+bowed low, laid his burden on the floor and went out without a word.
+
+The dogs shuddered as they heard him laugh coming back to them.
+
+"Hi-yah, mush!"
+
+He drove them furiously into a gully that shut out the sight of the
+shack and sat down on the sledge. The dogs whined. It was the time for
+the morning meal and the master was making no preparations to eat.
+
+"Still, you curs!" The whip fell mercilessly among them and they
+crouched in terror.
+
+The time went by. The sun began to climb upward in the sky. Still the
+man sat on the sledge, making no preparations for the morning meal. The
+memory of the whip-cuts died in the dogs' minds under the growing
+clamour of hunger. They began to whine again.
+
+"Still!" The master was on his feet, but the whip had fallen from his
+hand.
+
+Down at the end of the gully a small figure was coming over the snow.
+She was running, and her red hair flowed back over her shoulders, and
+she laughed aloud as she came up to him. The pain was gone from Hattie
+MacGregor's lips, and her whole face beamed with a complete, unreasoning
+happiness, but the pride of her breed shone in her eyes even unto the
+end.
+
+"Well, well!" sneered Reivers. "Aren't you afraid to come so near
+anything that pollutes the air?"
+
+She laughed again. She did not speak. She only looked at him and smiled,
+and by the Eve-wisdom in the smile he knew that his secret was hers. He
+felt himself weakening, but the Snow-Burner died hard. He tried to laugh
+his old, cold laugh, but the ice had been thawed in it.
+
+"What do you want?" he sneered. "I'm not a good enough man for you. Why
+did you come out here?"
+
+"Because I knew you would not go away again," she said, "and because now
+I know you are a good enough man for me."
+
+"You red-haired trull!" He raised his hand to strike her.
+
+She did not flinch; she merely smiled up at him confidently,
+contentedly. Suddenly she caught his clenched fist in her hands and
+kissed it. With a curse Reivers swung around on his dogs.
+
+"Hi-yah! Mush, mush out of here!"
+
+Out of the gully into the open he kicked and drove them. He did not look
+back. He knew that she was following.
+
+She followed patiently. She knew that there was nothing else for her to
+do. She had known it the first day she had looked into his eyes. He was
+her man, and she must follow him.
+
+So she trudged on behind her man as he forced the tired dogs to move.
+She smiled as she walked, and the wisdom of Eve was in her smile. She
+had reason to smile, for the Snow-Burner was driving straight toward the
+little shack.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen
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