Perhaps Idepski knew his man, and understood the weakness of which Bat was so painfully aware.  Perhaps he was just fencing, or even putting up a bluff in view of his own position.  Whatever his purpose the effect of his added threat was instant.

Standing’s luminous eyes hardened.  The muscles of his jaws gripped.  He sat up, and his whole attitude expressed again that fighting mood in which Bat rejoiced.

“That’s all right,” he said sharply.  “That’s just talk.  You’ve come a hell of a long way with those boys of yours down at the Lizzie to worry out some body-snatching.  That’s all right.  I don’t just see how you’ve figgered to do it.  But that’s your affair.  The point is, I’m going to do the body-snatching instead of you.  And it’s quite clear to me how I intend doing it.  You’re going a trip—­right off.  And it’s a trip from which you won’t get a chance of getting back to Quebec under this time next year.  You see, winter’s closing down in a month, and Labrador and Northern Quebec aren’t wholesome territory for any man to set out to beat the trail in winter, especially with folks around anxious to stop him.  You reckon I’m to pass a while in a States penitentiary.  Well, meanwhile you’re going to try what this country can show you in the way of a—­prison ground.  And you’re going to try it for at least a year.  You’ll be treated white.  But you’ll need to work for your grub like other folks, and if you don’t feel like working you won’t eat.  We’re fifty-three degrees north here, and our ways are the tough ways of the tough country we live in.  There’s no sort of mercy in this country.  Bat, here, is going to see you on your trip, and, if you take my advice, you won’t rile Bat.  He’s got it in him, and in his hands, to make things darn unpleasant for you.  You’ve a goodish nerve, and maybe you’ve goodish sense.  You’ll need ’em both for the next twelve months.  After that it’s up to you.  But if you try kicking between now and then, why—­God help you.”

Standing beckoned Bat from his seat at the window.  He held up the door key.

“You best take this,” he said.  “No. 10.  And he starts out right away.  He needs to be well on the road before the Lizzie puts to sea.”

Bat took the key.  He moved away and unlocked the door, and remained beside it grimly regarding the man who had listened without comment to the sentence passed on him, without the smallest display of emotion.  Idepski was smoking his second cigarette.

“No. 10.  I s’pose that’s one of your lumber camps.”  Idepski looked up from his contemplation of the cigarette.  His dark eyes were levelled at the man across the writing table.  “A tough place, eh? or you wouldn’t be sending me there.”  He laughed in a fashion that left his eyes coldly enquiring.

Standing inclined his head.  He was without mercy, without pity.