That the cow-puncher (who, in his day, must have carried a “gun”) did keep on his hair became a topic of talk amongst the boys, confirming a conviction that Dennis had been aptly named.  Certainly he lacked backbone and jawbone.  Moreover, change of skies brought to him no change of luck.  Within a fortnight he was badly hurt, and obliged to remain in bed for nearly a week.

“I got mixed up with a log,” he explained to Mamie.  “It bruk loose, an’ I didn’t quite get outer the way.  See?”

“Me, too,” whispered Mamie.  “Same trouble here—­’zactly.”

Twice while he lay upon his back she brought to the bunk-house a chocolate layer cake and some broth.  Upon the occasion of her third visit she came empty-handed, with her too pale eyes full of tears, and her heart full of indignation.

“I ain’t got nothing,” she muttered.  “Tom says it’s his grub.”

“That’s all right,” replied Dennis, noting that she walked stiffly.  “But, look ye here; he ain’t been wallopin’ ye, has he?”

“Yes, he has.  When he was through I tole him I’d sooner have his blows than his kisses any day.”

“I hadn’t oughter hev come here,” said Dennis.

“Never saw the sun shine till you did,” murmured Mamie.

At this he tried to take her hand, but she evaded his grasp.  Then, with an extraordinary dignity, looking deep into the man’s eyes, she said slowly:  “I tole you that because it’s God’s truth, and sorter justifies your comin’; but I aim ter be an honest woman, and you must help me to remain so.”

With that she flitted away.

Next day Dennis went back to work.  And what work, for a man never at best strong, and now enfeebled by severe pain and illness!  Some magnificent timber had been found a couple of miles inland, situated not too far from the Coho.  The experts had already felled, stripped, and sawed into logs the huge trees.  To Dennis and others remained the arduous labour of guiding, with the help of windlasses, these immense logs to the river, whence they would descend in due time to the inlet, there to be joined together into vast rafts, later on again to be towed to their destination.  Of all labour, this steering of logs through dense forest to their appointed waterway is the hardest and roughest.  Dennis, of course, wore thick gloves, but in spite of these his hands were mutilated horribly, because he lacked the experience to handle the logs with discretion.  Even the best men are badly knocked about at this particular job, and the duffers are very likely to be killed outright.

At the end of ten lamentable days Dennis came to the conclusion that Tom Barker wanted to kill him by the Chinese torture of Ling, or death by a thousand cuts.  More than one of the boys said:  “Why don’t you get what dough is comin’ to ye and skip?” Dennis shook his head.  Not being able to explain to himself why he stayed, he held his tongue, and thus gained a reputation for grit which lightened other