“The man does live, and the combination does exist,” he said, slowly.  “Greggy, I have known of men, and of combinations who have spent millions, who have sacrificed everything of honor and truth, who have driven thousands of men, women, and children to starvation—­and worse—­to achieve a victory in high finance.  I have known of men and combinations who have broken almost every law of man and God in the fight for money and power.  And so have you!  You have associated with some of these men.  You have laughed and talked with them, smoked with them, and have dined at their tables.  You spent a week at Selden’s summer borne, and it was Selden who cornered wheat three years ago and raised the price of bread two cents a loaf.  It was Selden who brought about the bread riots in New York, Chicago, and a score of other cities, who swung wide the prison doors for thousands, whose millions were gained at a cost of misery, crime, and even death.  And Selden is only one out of thousands who live to-day, watching for their opportunities, giving no heed to those who may fall under the juggernaut of their capital.  This isn’t the age of petty discrimination, Greggy.  It’s the age of the almighty dollar, and of the fight for it.  And there’s no chivalry, no quarter shown in this fight.  Men of Selden’s stamp don’t stop at women and children.  The scrubwoman’s dollar is just as big as yours or mine, and if a scheme could be promoted whereby every scrubwoman in America could be safely robbed of a dollar you’d find thousands of men down there in our cities ready to go into it to-morrow.  And to such men as these what is the sacrifice of a few women up here?”

Gregson dropped the letter, crumpled and twisted, upon the table.

“I wonder—­if I understand,” he said, looking into Philip’s white face.  “There has undoubtedly been previous correspondence, and this letter contains the final word.  It shows that your enemies have already succeeded in working up the forest people against you, and have filled them with suspicion.  Their last blow is to be—­”

He stopped, and Philip nodded at the horrified question in his eyes.

“Greggy, up here there is one law which reigns above all other law.  When I was in Prince Albert a year ago I was sitting on the veranda of the little old Windsor Hotel.  About me were a dozen wild men of the north, who had come down for a day or two to the edge of civilization.  Most of those men had not been out of the forests for a year.  Two of them were from the Barrens, and this was their first glimpse of civilized life in five years.  As we sat there a woman came up the street.  She turned in at the hotel.  About me there was a sudden lowering of voices, a shuffling of feet.  As she passed, every one of those twelve rose from their seats and stood with bowed heads and their caps in their hands until she had gone.  I was the only one who remained sitting!  That, Greggy, is the one great law of life up here, the worship of