to look our land over will turn the whole proposition of the flotation down, and quit us cold.  But that’s not just all.  No, sir.  Elas Peterman isn’t the boy to leave it that way.  He’s handing out the story that when Sachigo smashes the Skandinavia’s going to jump right in and collect the wreckage cheap.  Then they’ll start up the mill, and sign on all hands on their own pay-roll, only stipulating that they won’t pay one single cent of what Sachigo owes for their cut.  So, if they’re such almighty fools as to cut, it’s going to be their dead loss and the Skandinavia’s gain.  Do you get it?  It’s smart.  I guess there’s a bigger brain behind it than Peterman’s.”

The camp-boss spat into the stove.  It was his one expression of disgust.

Bull rose from his chair.

“Here, I need food.  So does my boy out there with the dogs.  We’ll take it after I’m through with the men.  It’s snowing like hell, but I pull out two hours from now.  You see, I’m on a hot trail, an’ don’t fancy losing a minute.”

“You’re goin’ to talk to ’em—­the boys?” Porson’s eyes lit with a gleam of satisfaction.  “Can you—­twist ’em?”

Bull thrust a hand into his breast pocket and drew out a sealed packet.  He held it up before the other’s questioning eyes.

“I haven’t failed yet,” he said quietly.  “In nine of our camps back on the river the work’s running full already.  I’ve a whole big yarn for our boys.  But right here I’ve got what’s better.  It’s the only thing that’ll clinch the yarn I’m going to hand ’em.  This,” he went on, indicating the parcel in his hand, “is the bunch of dollars representing the price of this camp’s full winter cut, and the price of a bonus for making up all leeway already lost.  I’m going to have the boys count it.  Then I’m going to have them hand it right over to Abe Risdon to set in his safe, with a written order from me to pay out in full the moment the winter cut is complete.  Is it good?  Can the Skandinavia’s junk stand in face of it?  No, sir.  And so I’ve proved right along.  I don’t hold much of a brief for the intelligence of the forest-jack, but his belly rules him all the time.  You see, he’s human, and no more dishonest than the rest of us.  Have him guessing and worried and you’ll get trouble right along.  Show him the lies the Skandinavia’s been doping him with, and he’ll work out of sheer spite to beat their game.  You get right out and collect the gang.”

* * * * *

The snowfall had ceased.  And with its passing the temperature had fallen to something far below its average winter level.  The clouds had vanished miraculously, and in their place was a night sky ablaze with the light of myriad stars, and the soft splendour of a brilliant moon.

It was a scene of frigid desolation.  Away on the southern horizon lay the black line which marked the tremendous forest limits of the Beaver River.  For the rest it was a world of snow that hid up the rugged undulations of a sterile territory.