So it was with some measure of surprise that Old John looked up from his packing at the girl’s question:  “Where are you going, Dad?”

“North, into Canada.  I’ve business there that needs my attention.”

“Will you take me with you?”

“Take ye with me!” he cried in astonishment.  “An’ what would ye be doin’ in the wild country, with the black flies an’ mosquitoes in the height of their glory.  They’d eat ye alive!  An’ the trailin’—­why, ye’ve never been outside a town in ye’re life!”

“And that is just why I want to go outside one!” answered the girl.  “Please, Dad, take me with you.  I can keep up on the trail, really I can.  Don’t I play golf, and tennis, and paddle a canoe, and do everything that anyone can do to keep themselves in shape?  I bet right now I can walk as far as you can in the woods or out of the woods.  And as for flies and mosquitoes, they won’t eat me any worse than they will you, and if worse comes to worst, I can plaster myself with that smelly old dope you carry in that bottle—­but I’d almost rather be eaten.”

Old John grinned.  “Well, I don’t know.  Maybe the trip would do ye good.  An’ when ye get there ye may not find it so dull.  Wentworth is there an’ he’ll prob’ly show ye around.”

“I don’t need Captain Wentworth to show me around,” she replied, and McNabb was not slow to note her tone.  “Of all people I ever met, I think he’s the biggest bore!  I don’t see what you hired him for.”

Old John stared at her in amazement.  “Why, it was on your own recommendation—­that, an’ the fact that I found out he done some really good work on the Nettle River project.  But you asked me in so many words to give him a job!”

“Well, if I did, I was an idiot,” she replied.  “And I guess you’ll wish you never hired him.  You’ll find you’ve made a grand mess of things!” A high-pitched, nervous quality had crept into the girl’s voice, and McNabb saw that she was very near to tears.  “Do you know what they’re saying?” she cried.  “They’re saying that Oskar has jumped ten-thousand-dollar bail that some friend put up for him!  They’re liars, and I hate them!  Wherever he is, he’ll come back at the proper time.  He’ll show them—­and he’ll show you, too!” With an effort, the girl steadied her trembling voice.  “And when he does come back, he’ll find he’s got one friend—­and I’ll—­I’ll make up for the rest.  I’m going to get ready now.  I want to get away from it all.  When do we start?”

“To-night,” answered old John, “on the late train.”  And when the door closed behind his daughter, he grinned and winked at himself in the mirror.

When old John McNabb and his daughter stepped off the sagging combination coach at the siding which was the northern end of the new tote-road, the first man they saw was Orcutt, resplendent in striped mackinaw, Stetson hat, and high-laced boots.  As the banker came toward them, McNabb stared about him in evident perplexity, his glance shifting from the piles of tarpaulin-covered material, to the loaded trucks that with a clash and grind of gears were just pulling out upon the new tote-road that stretched away between the tall balsam spires to the southward.