“To put it roughly, we differed about what you might call a principle, although Helen’s money had something to do with the thing.  You see, I lost my crop and she was hurt because I wouldn’t use her capital.”

“I don’t see altogether,” Dalton rejoined.  “In fact, your objection seems unusual.”

He pondered for a minute or two, and Festing marked the change in him.  Dalton had a reserve and thoughtfulness he had not expected.  He had grown very like Helen.

“A quarrel about a principle is apt to be dangerous,” he resumed.  “Although you are probably both wrong, you can persuade yourselves you are right.  Then while I was glad to hear about your wedding, I’ll admit that I saw some difficulties.  Helen has a strong will and is sometimes rather exacting, while you’re an obstinate fellow and a little too practical.  I must wait until I know more than I do now, but might be of some use as a peacemaker.  Isn’t it possible to compromise?  Can’t you meet half way?”

“Not in the meantime.  I can’t go home until I’m able to run the farm without your sister’s help.  There’s some risk of her despising me if I did go.”

“You may be right; I can’t judge,” Dalton thoughtfully agreed.  “Now I could, of course, find an excuse for getting you dismissed, but I know you both too well to imagine that plan would work.  You would go somewhere else, while though Helen is generous there’s a hard streak in her.  I really think she’d like you better afterwards if you carried your intentions out.”

He paused and smiled.  “She got the money you object to in a very curious way—­by refusing to indulge the wishes of our only rich relation.  I was more compliant because his plans met my views, and he paid for my education, but when he died we found Helen had got her share and mine.  I understand he told his lawyer that he still thought her wrong; but if she thought she was right, she was justified in refusing, and he admired her pluck.”

“She has pluck,” said Festing.  “On the whole I don’t think that makes things much better for me.  Anyhow, I’ve taken this contract and I’ve got to stay with it.”

“I’ll help you as far as I can,” said Dalton, who soon afterwards left the shack.

CHAPTER XX

FESTING GETS TO WORK

Mist rolled among the pines and it was raining hard when Festing led his team down the hill.  He wore big rubber boots and slickers, and a heavy log trailed behind the horses through the mud.  Some distance above the river the slope was gradual, and it was necessary to haul the logs to the skidway he had built.  They would then run down without help; indeed, the difficulty was to stop them when they reached the track.  Festing was wet and dirty, and the sweating horses were splashed.  When he stopped to unhook the chain, three or four men came up with cant-poles, and struggling in the churned-up mire, rolled the log to the top of the incline.