“Whose opinion was it that you should supply the exact material you had promised?” Featherstone asked.

“Well,” said Foster, “Lawrence said so first, but I think we both meant to let them have the best.”

Featherstone’s glance at his wife indicated relief, but something in Alice’s face showed that she had known what Foster’s reply would be.  She had listened with keen interest, and he stopped, half amused and half embarrassed.  Perhaps he had talked too much, and while he meant to do Lawrence justice, he did not want to play the part of the indomitable pioneer for the girl’s benefit.  Moreover, he knew she would detect, and despise him for, any attempt to do so, and as he valued her good opinion, it was not modesty alone that led him to make Lawrence the hero of the piece.

“So you stuck to your bargain!” Featherstone remarked.  “Tell us how you carried it out.”

Foster forgot himself and the others as he continued, for he had a vivid memory of the struggle.  He took charge of the work in the woods, while Lawrence tactfully pressed for payment of outstanding accounts, put off creditors, and somehow provided money for wages.  As extra gangs had to be hired, Foster owned that he did not know how the thing was done.  He cut a grade for the skidway up the hill, slashing tangled bush and blasting rocks, worked in the snow by moonlight long after his men stopped, and afterwards learned that Lawrence often went without a meal when pay-day got near.  But they hauled out the logs and the lumber was delivered.  When he stopped, Featherstone looked up with some color in his face.

“Thank you,” he said.  “It is a moving tale.  The money we sent you was well spent.  I could have expected nothing better of my son.  But I suppose you found it paid to keep your promise.”

“In this case, it did,” Foster answered with a smile.  “Hulton’s gave us the first chance of any work they did not care to do themselves; you see, we had put in a few wood-working machines.  In fact, after a time, Hulton told Lawrence to walk through the factory now and then and send in anything the heads of departments required.  But I’ve talked long enough and fear you’re bored.”

“No,” said Featherstone simply, “you have given us great pleasure and made us realize the bracing life my son is leading.  You could have done us no favor that would equal this.”

Then he took Foster off to the gun-room, where they smoked and talked about the day’s shooting, until Featherstone said rather abruptly, “Perhaps I had better tell you that I didn’t send Lawrence the check that enabled you to build the mill.  It was not in my power to do so then.”

“But he said the money came from home.”

“It did.  Alice was left a small legacy and insisted on selling the shares it consisted of in order to help her brother.  I must confess that I thought she was rash, but the money was hers.  Now it is obvious that the sacrifice she made was justified.”