DIVERSITY OF CA RIV RSIDE LIBRARY 
 
 3 1210018389005
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE
 

 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL
 
 WORKS of 
 STEWART 
 
 c 
 
 Garcten City, New ^(ork 
 
 DOUBLEDAXPAGE &CO. 
 
 1913
 
 Copyright, 1901 and 1902, by | ^) ) ^ 
 S. S. McCLURE CO. 
 
 1902 by 
 STEWART EDWARD WHITE
 
 A TABLE of the CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 Pag* 
 
 THE FOREST / 
 
 PART II 
 THE LANDLOOKER /// 
 
 PART 111 
 THE BLAZING OF THE TRAIL . . . 179 
 
 PART IV 
 THORPE'S DREAM GIRL 263 
 
 PART V 
 THE FOLLOWING OF THE TRAIL . . 307
 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL 
 
 r 
 
 Part I 
 The Forest
 
 Chapter S 
 
 F" JTT'HEN history has granted him the justice 
 l/l/ of perspective, we shall know the American 
 * * Pioneer as one of the most picturesque of 
 her many figures. Resourceful, self-reliant, bold; 
 adapting himself with fluidity to diverse circumstances 
 and conditions; meeting with equal cheerfulness of 
 confidence and completeness of capability both un- 
 known dangers and the perils by which he has been 
 educated; seizing the useful in the lives of the beasts 
 and men nearest him, and assimilating it with mar- 
 vellous rapidity; he presents to the world a picture 
 of complete adequacy which it would be difficult to 
 match in any other walk of life. He is a strong man, 
 with a strong man's virtues and a strong man's vices. 
 In him the passions are elemental, the dramas epic, 
 for he lives in the age when men are close to nature, 
 and draw from her their forces. He satisfies his needs 
 direct from the earth. Stripped of all the towns can 
 give him, he merely resorts to a facile substitution. 
 It becomes an affair of rawhide for leather, buckskin 
 for cloth, venison for canned tomatoes. We feel that 
 his steps are planted on solid earth, for civilizations 
 may crumble without disturbing his magnificent self- 
 poise. In him we perceive dimly his environment. 
 He has something about him which other men do not 
 possess a frank clearness of the eye, a swing of the 
 shoulder, a carriage of the hips, a tilt of the hat, an 
 air of muscular well-being which marks him as be- 
 longing to the advance guard, whether he wears buck- 
 skin, mackinaw, sombrero, or broadcloth. The woods
 
 4 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 are there, the plains, the rivers. Snow is there, and 
 the line of the prairie. Mountain peaks and still pine 
 forests have impressed themselves subtly; so that 
 when we turn to admire his unconsciously graceful 
 swing, we seem to hear the ax biting the pine, or the 
 prospector's pick tapping the rock. And in his eye 
 is the capability of quiet humor, which is just the 
 quality that the surmounting of many difficulties will 
 give a man. 
 
 Like the nature he has fought until he understands, 
 his disposition is at once kindly and terrible. Out- 
 side the subtleties of his calling, he sees only red. Re- 
 lieved of the strenuousness of his occupation, he turns 
 all the force of the wonderful energies that have car- 
 ried him far where other men would have halted, to 
 channels in which a gentle current makes flood 
 enough. It is the mountain torrent and the canal. 
 Instead of pleasure, he seeks orgies. He runs to wild 
 excesses of drinking, fighting, and carousing which 
 would frighten most men to sobriety with a happy, 
 reckless spirit that carries him beyond the limits of 
 even his extraordinary forces. 
 
 This is not the moment to judge him. And yet one 
 cannot help admiring the magnificently picturesque 
 spectacle of such energies running riot. The power 
 is still in evidence, though beyond its proper appli- 
 cation.
 
 Chapter II 
 
 /N the network of streams draining the eastern 
 portion of Michigan and known as the Saginaw 
 waters, the great firm of Morrison & Daly had 
 for many years carried on extensive logging opera- 
 tions in the wilderness. The number of their camps 
 was legion, of their employees a multitude. Each 
 spring they had gathered in their capacious booms 
 from thirty to fifty million feet of pine logs. 
 
 Now at last, in the early eighties, they reached the 
 end of their holdings. Another winter would finish 
 the cut. Two summers would see the great mills at 
 Beeson Lake dismantled or sold, while Mr. Daly, the 
 " woods partner " of the combination, would flit away 
 to the scenes of new and perhaps more extensive 
 operations. At this juncture Mr. Daly called to him 
 John Radway, a man whom he knew to possess ex- 
 tensive experience, a little capital, and a desire for 
 more of both. 
 
 " Radway," said he, when the two found them- 
 selves alone in the mr'll office, " we expect to cut this 
 year some fifty millions, which will finish our pine 
 Holdings in the Saginaw waters. Most of this timber 
 lies over in the Crooked Lake district, and that we 
 expect to put in ourselves. We own, however, five 
 million on the Cass Branch which we would like to 
 log on contract. Would you care to take the job ? " 
 
 " How much a thousand do you give ? " asked Rad- 
 way. 
 
 ** Four dollars," replied the lumberman. 
 
 " 111 look at it," replied the jobber.
 
 6 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 So Radway got the " descriptions " and a little map 
 divided into townships, sections, and quarter sec- 
 tions ; and went out to look at it. He searched until 
 he found a " blaze " on a tree, the marking on which 
 indicated it as the corner of a section. From this cor- 
 ner the boundary lines were blazed at right angles in 
 either direction. Radway followed the blazed lines. 
 Thus he was able accurately to locate isolated " for- 
 ties " (forty acres), " eighties," quarter sections, and 
 sections in a primeval wilderness. The feat, however, 
 required considerable woodcraft, an exact sense of di- 
 rection, and a pocket compass. 
 
 These resources were still further drawn upon for 
 the next task. Radway tramped the woods, hills, and 
 valleys to determine the most practical route over 
 which to build a logging road from the standing tim- 
 ber to the shores of Cass Branch. He found it to be 
 an affair of some puzzlement. The pines stood on a 
 country rolling with hills, deep with pot-holes. It be- 
 came necessary to dodge in and out, here and there, 
 between the knolls, around or through the swamps, 
 still keeping, however, the same general direction, and 
 preserving always the requisite level or down grade. 
 Radway had no vantage point from which to survey, 
 the country. A city man would promptly have lost 
 himself in the tangle; but the woodsman emerged 
 at last on the banks of the stream, leaving behind 
 him a meandering trail of clipped trees that wound, 
 twisted, doubled, and turned, but kept ever to a coun- 
 try without steep hills. From the main road he pur- 
 posed arteries to tap the most distant parts. 
 
 " I'll take it," said he to Daly. 
 
 Now Radway happened to be in his way a peculiar 
 character. He was acutely sensitive to the human side 
 of those with whom he had dealings. In fact, he was 
 more inclined to take their point of view than to hold 
 his own. For that reason, the subtler disputes were
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 7 
 
 likely to go against him. His desire to avoid com- 
 ing into direct collision of opinion with the other man, 
 veiled whatever of justice might reside in his own 
 contention. Consequently it was difficult for him 
 to combat sophistry or a plausible appearance of right. 
 Daly was perfectly aware of Radway's peculiarities, 
 and so proceeded to drive a sharp bargain with him. 
 
 Customarily a jobber is paid a certain proportion of 
 the agreed price as each stage of the work is com- 
 pleted so much when the timber is cut; so much 
 when it is skidded, or piled; so much when it is 
 stacked at the river, or banked; so much when the 
 " drive " down the waters of the river is finished. 
 Daly objected to this method of procedure. 
 
 " You see, Radway," he explained, " it is our kst 
 season in the country. When this lot is in, we want 
 to pull up stakes, so we can't take any chances on 
 not getting that timber in. If you don't finish your 
 job, it keeps us here another season. There can be 
 no doubt, therefore, that you finish your job. In 
 other words, we can't take any chances. If you start 
 the thing, you've got to carry it 'way through." 
 
 " I think I can, Mr. Daly," the jobber assured 
 him. 
 
 " For that reason," went on Daly, " we object to 
 paying you as the work progresses. We've got to 
 have a guarantee that you don't quit on us, and that 
 those logs will be driven down the branch as far as 
 the river in time to catch our drive. Therefore I'm 
 going to make you a good price per thousand, but 
 payable only when the logs are delivered to our river- 
 men." 
 
 Radway, with his usual mental attitude of one 
 anxious to justify the other man, ended by seeing only 
 his employer's argument. He did not perceive that 
 the latter's proposition introduced into the transac- 
 tion a gambling element. It became possible for Mor-
 
 8 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 rison & Daly to get a certain amount of work, short 
 of absolute completion, done for nothing. 
 
 " How much does the timber estimate ? " he in- 
 quired finally. 
 
 " About five millions." 
 
 " I'd need a camp of forty or fifty men then. I 
 don't see how I can run such a camp without bor- 
 rowing." 
 
 " You have some money, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a little. But I have a family, too." 
 
 "That's all right. Now look here." Daly drew 
 towards him a sheet of paper and began to set down 
 figures showing how the financing could be done. 
 Finally it was agreed. Radway was permitted to 
 draw on the Company's warehouse for what provis- 
 ions he would need. Daly let him feel it as a con- 
 cession. 
 
 All this was in August. Radway, who was a good 
 practical woodsman, set about the job immediately. 
 He gathered a crew, established his camp, and began 
 at once to cut roads through the country he had al- 
 ready blazed on his former trip. 
 
 Those of us who have ever paused to watch a group 
 of farmers working out their road taxes, must have 
 gathered a formidable impression of road-clearing. 
 And the few of us who, besides, have experienced the 
 adventure of a drive over the same highway after the 
 tax has been pronounced liquidated, must have in- 
 dulged in varied reflections as to the inadequacy of the 
 result. 
 
 Radway's task was not merely to level out and bal- 
 last the six feet of a road-bed already constructed, 
 but to cut a way for five miles through the unbroken 
 wilderness. The way had moreover to be not less 
 than twenty-five feet wide, needed to be absolutely 
 level and free from any kind of obstructions, and re- 
 quired in the swamps liberal ballasting with poles,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 9 
 
 called corduroys. To one who will take the trouble 
 o recall the variety of woods, thickets, and jungles 
 chat go to make up a wooded country especially in 
 the creek bottoms where a logging road finds often its 
 levelest way and the piles of windfalls, vines, 
 bushes, and scrubs that choke the thickets with a dis- 
 couraging and inextricable tangle, the clearing of five 
 miles to street width will look like an almost hopeless 
 undertaking. Not only must the growth be removed, 
 but the roots must be cut out, and the inequalities of 
 the ground levelled or filled up. Reflect further that 
 Radway had but a brief time at his disposal, but a 
 few months at most, and you will then be in a posi- 
 tion to gauge the first difficulties of those the Ameri- 
 can pioneer expects to encounter as a matter of course. 
 The cutting of the road was a mere incident in the 
 battle with the wilderness. 
 
 The jobber, of course, pushed his roads as rapidly 
 as possible, but was greatly handicapped by lack of 
 men. Winter set in early and surprised him with sev- 
 eral of the smaller branches yet to finish. The main 
 line, however, was done. 
 
 At intervals squares were cut out alongside. In 
 them two long timbers, or skids, were laid andiron- 
 wise for the reception of the piles of logs which would 
 be dragged from the fallen trees. They were called 
 skidways. Then finally the season's cut began. 
 
 The men who were to fell the trees, Radway distrib- 
 uted along one boundary of a " forty." They were in- 
 structed to move forward across the forty in a straight 
 line, felling every pine tree over eight inches in diam- 
 eter. While the " saw-gangs," three in number, pre- 
 pared to fell the first trees, other men, called " swamp- 
 ers," were busy cutting and clearing of roots narrow 
 little trails down through the forest from the pine to 
 the skidway at the edge of the logging road. The 
 trails were perhaps three feet wide, and marvels of
 
 io THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 smoothness, although no attempt was made to level 
 mere inequalities of the ground. They were called 
 travoy roads (French travois). Down them the logs 
 would be dragged and hauled, either by means of 
 heavy steel tongs or a short sledge on which one end 
 of the timber would be chained. 
 
 Meantime the sawyers were busy. Each pair of 
 men selected a tree, the first they encountered over 
 the blazed line of their " forty." After determining in 
 which direction it was to fall, they set to work to chop 
 a deep gash in that side of the trunk. 
 
 Tom Broadhead and Henry Paul picked out a tre- 
 mendous pine which they determined to throw across 
 a little open space in proximity to the travoy road. 
 One stood to right, the other to left, and alternately 
 their axes bit deep. It was a beautiful sight this, of 
 experts wielding their tools. The craft of the woods- 
 man means incidentally such a free swing of the 
 shoulders and hips, such a directness of stroke as the 
 blade of one sinks accurately in the gash made by 
 the other, that one never tires of watching the grace 
 of it. Tom glanced up as a sailor looks aloft. 
 
 " She'll do, Hank," he said. 
 
 The two then with a dozen half clips of the ax, re- 
 moved the inequalities of the bark from the saw's 
 path. The long, flexible ribbon of steel began to sing, 
 bending so adaptably to the hands and motions of the 
 men manipulating, that it did not seem possible so 
 mobile an instrument could cut the rough pine. In a 
 moment the song changed timbre. Without a word 
 the men straightened their backs. Tom flirted along 
 the blade a thin stream of kerosene oil from a bottle 
 in his hip pocket, and the sawyers again bent to their 
 work, swaying back and forth rhythmically, their mus- 
 cles rippling under the texture of their woolens like 
 those of a panther under its skin. The outer edge of 
 the saw-blade disappeared.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 11 
 
 " Better wedge her, Tom," advised Hank. 
 
 They paused while, with a heavy sledge, Tom drove 
 a triangle of steel into the crack made by the sawing. 
 This prevented the weight of the tree from pinching 
 the saw, which is a ruin at once to the instrument and 
 the temper of the filer. Then the rhythmical z-z-zl 
 s-z-z! again took up its song. 
 
 When the trunk was nearly severed, Tom drove an- 
 other and thicker wedge. 
 
 " limber! " hallooed Hank in a long-drawn melo- 
 dious call that melted through the woods into the dis- 
 tance. The swampers ceased work and withdrew to 
 safety. 
 
 But the tree stood obstinately upright. So the saw 
 leaped back and forth a few strokes more. 
 
 " Crack! " called the tree. 
 
 Hank coolly unhooked his saw handle, and Tom 
 drew the blade through and out the other side. 
 
 The tree shivered, then leaned ever so slightly from 
 the perpendicular, then fell, at first gently, afterwards 
 with a crescendo rush, tearing through the branches 
 of other trees, bending the small timber, breaking the 
 smallest, and at last hitting with a tremendous crash 
 and bang which filled the air with a fog of small twigs, 
 needles, and the powder of snow, that settled but 
 slowly. There is nothing more impressive than this 
 rush of a pine top, excepting it be a charge of cavalry 
 or the fall of Niagara. Old woodsmen sometimes 
 shout aloud with the mere excitement into which it 
 lifts them. 
 
 Then the swampers, who had by now finished the 
 travoy road, trimmed the prostrate trunk clear of afr 
 protuberances. It required fairly skillful ax work. 
 The branches had to be shaved close and clear, and at 
 the same time the trunk must not be gashed. And 
 often a man was forced to wield his instrument from a 
 constrained position.
 
 12 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The chopped branches and limbs had now to be 
 dragged clear and piled. While this was being fin- 
 ished, Tom and Hank marked off and sawed the log 
 lengths, paying due attention to the necessity of 
 avoiding knots, forks, and rotten places. Thus some 
 of the logs were eighteen, some sixteen, or fourteen, 
 and some only twelve feet in length. 
 
 Next appeared the teamsters with their little 
 wooden sledges, their steel chains, and their tongs 
 They had been helping the skidders to place the 
 parallel and level beams, or skids, on which the logs 
 were to be piled by the side of the road. The tree 
 which Tom and Hank had just felled, lay up a gentle 
 slope from the new travoy road, so little Fabian 
 Laveque, the teamster, clamped the bite of his tongs 
 to the end of the largest, or butt, log. 
 
 "Allez, Molly! "he cried. 
 
 The horse, huge, elephantine, her head down, nose 
 close to her chest, intelligently spying her steps, 
 moved. The log half rolled over, slid three feet, and 
 menaced a stump. 
 
 " Gee! " cried Laveque. 
 
 Molly stepped twice directly sideways, planted her 
 fore foot on a root she had seen, and pulled sharply. 
 The end of the log slid around the stump. 
 
 " Allez ! " commanded Laveque. 
 
 And Molly started gingerly down the hill. She 
 pulled the timber, heavy as an iron safe, here and 
 there through the brush, missing no steps, making no 
 false moves, backing, and finally getting out of the 
 way of an unexpected roll with the ease and intelli- 
 gence of Laveque himself. In five minutes the burden 
 lay by the travoy road. In two minutes more one end 
 of it had been rolled on the little flat wooden sledge 
 and, the other end dragging, it was winding majes- 
 tically down through the ancient forest. The little 
 Frenchman stood high on the forward end. Molly
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 13 
 
 stepped ahead carefully, with the strange intelligence 
 of the logger's horse. Through the tall, straight, deco- 
 rative trunks of trees the little convoy moved with the 
 massive pomp of a dead warrior's cortege. And little 
 Fabian Laveque, singing, a midget in the vastness, 
 typified the indomitable spirit of these conquerors of 
 a wilderness. 
 
 When Molly and Fabian had travoyed the log to 
 the skidway, they drew it with a bump across the two 
 parallel skids, and left it there to be rolled to the top 
 of the pile. 
 
 Then Mike McGovern and Bob Stratton and Jim 
 Gladys took charge of it. Mike and Bob were run- 
 ning the cant-hooks, while Jim stood on top of the 
 great pile of logs already decked. A slender, pliable 
 steel chain, like a gray snake, ran over the top of the 
 pile and disappeared through a pulley to an invisible 
 horse, Jenny, the mate of Molly. Jim threw the end 
 of this chain down. Bob passed it over and under the 
 log and returned it to Jim, who reached down after it 
 with the hook of his implement. Thus the stick of 
 timber rested in a long loop, one end of which led to 
 the invisible horse, and the other Jim made fast to the 
 top of the pile. He did so by jamming into another 
 log the steel swamp-hook with which the chain was 
 armed. When all was made fast, the horse started. 
 
 " She's a bumper ! " said Bob. " Look out, Mike ! " 
 
 The log slid to the foot of the two parallel poles laid 
 slanting up the face of the pile. Then it trembled on 
 the ascent. But one end stuck for an instant, and at 
 once the log took on a dangerous slant. Quick as 
 light Bob and Mike sprang forward, gripped the 
 hooks of the cant-hooks, like great thumbs and fore- 
 fingers, and, while one held with all his power, the 
 other gave a sharp twist upward. The log straight- 
 ened. It was a master feat of power, and the knack 
 of applying strength justly.
 
 H 
 
 At the top of the little incline, the timber hovered 
 for a second. 
 
 " One more ! " sang out Jim to the driver. He 
 poised, stepped lightly up and over, and avoided by 
 the safe hair's breadth being crushed when the log 
 rolled. But it did not lie quite straight and even. So 
 Mike cut a short thick block, and all three stirred 
 the heavy timber sufficiently to admit of the billet's 
 insertion. 
 
 Then the chain was thrown down for another. 
 
 Jenny, harnessed only to a straight short bar with 
 a hook in it, leaned to her collar and dug in her hoofs 
 at the word of command. The driver, close to her 
 tail, held fast the slender steel chain by an ingenious 
 hitch about the ever-useful swamp-hook. When Jim 
 shouted " whoa ! " from the top of the skidway, the 
 driver did not trouble to stop the horse, he merely 
 let go the hook. So the power was shut off suddenly, 
 as is meet and proper in such ticklish business. He 
 turned and walked back, and Jenny, like a dog, with- 
 out the necessity of command, followed him in slow 
 patience. 
 
 Now came Dyer, the sealer, rapidly down the log- 
 ging road, a small slender man with a little, turned- 
 ap mustache. The men disliked him because of his 
 affectation of a city smartness, and because he never 
 ate with them, even when there was plenty of room. 
 iRadway had confidence in him because he lived in 
 'the same shanty with him. This one fact a good deal 
 explains Radway's character. The sealer's duty at 
 present was to measure the diameter of the logs in 
 each skidway, and so compute the number of board 
 feet. At the office he tended van, kept the books, and 
 looked after supplies. 
 
 He approached the skidway swiftly, laid his flex- 
 ible rule across the face of each log, made a mark 
 nan his pine tablets in the column to which the log
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 15 
 
 belonged, thrust the tablet in the pocket of his coat, 
 seized a blue crayon, in a long holder, with which 
 he made an 8 as indication that the log had been 
 scaled, and finally tapped several times strongly with 
 a sledge hammer. On the face of the hammer in 
 relief was an M inside of a delta. This was the Com- 
 pany's brand, and so the log was branded as belong- 
 ing to them. He swarmed all over the skidway, rapid 
 and absorbed, in strange contrast of activity to the 
 slower power of the actual skidding. In a moment 
 he moved on to the next scene of operations without 
 having said a word to any of the men. 
 
 "A fine t'ing! " said Mike, spitting. 
 
 So day after day the work went on. Radway spent 
 his time tramping through the woods, figuring on new 
 work, showing the men how to do things better or 
 differently, discussing minute expedients with the 
 blacksmith, the carpenter, the cook. 
 
 He was not without his troubles. First he had not 
 enough men; the snow lacked, and then came too 
 abundantly; horses fell sick of colic or caulked them- 
 selves; supplies ran low unexpectedly; trees turned 
 out " punk " ; a certain bit of ground proved soft 
 for travoying, and so on. At election-time, of course, 
 a number of the men went out. 
 
 And one evening, two days after election-time, an- 
 other and important character entered the North 
 woods and our story.
 
 Chapter III 
 
 the evening in question, some thirty or forty 
 miles southeast of Radway's camp, a train was 
 crawling over a badly laid track which led 
 towards the Saginaw Valley. The whole affair was 
 very crude. To the edge of the right-of-way pushed 
 the dense swamp, like a black curtain shutting the vir- 
 gin country from the view of civilization. Even by 
 daylight the sight could have penetrated but a few 
 feet. The right-of-way itself was rough with upturned 
 stumps, blackened by fire, and gouged by many and 
 varied furrows. Across the snow were tracks of ani- 
 mals. 
 
 The train consisted of a string of freight cars, one 
 coach divided half and half between baggage and 
 smoker, and a day car occupied by two silent, awk- 
 ward women and a child. In the smoker lounged a 
 dozen men. They were of various sizes and descrip- 
 tions, but they all wore heavy blanket mackinaw coats, 
 rubber shoes, and thick German socks tied at the 
 knee. This constituted, as it were, a sort of uniform. 
 The air was so thick with smoke that the men had 
 difficulty in distinguishing objects across the length 
 of the car. 
 
 The passengers sprawled in various attitudes. 
 Some hung their legs over the arms of the seats; 
 others perched their feet on the backs of the seats in 
 front ; still others slouched in corners, half reclining. 
 Their occupations were as diverse. Three nearest the 
 baggage-room door attempted to sing, but without 
 much success. A man in the corner breathed softly 
 
 16
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 17 
 
 through a mouth organ, to the music of which his seat 
 mate, leaning his head sideways, gave close attention. 
 One big fellow with a square beard swaggered back 
 and forth down the aisle offering to everyone refresh- 
 ment from a quart bottle. It was rarely refused. Of 
 the dozen, probably three quarters were more or less 
 drunk. 
 
 After a time the smoke became too dense. A short, 
 thick-set fellow with an evil dark face coolly thrust 
 his heel through a window. The conductor, who, with 
 the brakeman and baggage master, was seated in the 
 baggage van, heard the jingle of glass. He arose. 
 
 Guess I'll take up tickets," he remarked. " Per- 
 haps it will quiet the boys down a little." 
 
 The conductor was a big man, raw-boned and 
 broad, with a hawk face. His every motion showed 
 lean, quick, panther-like power. 
 
 " Let her went," replied the brakeman, rising as a 
 matter of course to follow his chief. 
 
 The brakeman was stocky, short, and long armed. 
 In the old fighting days Michigan railroads chose 
 their train officials with an eye to their superior del- 
 toids. A conductor who could not throw an undesir- 
 able fare through a car window lived a short official 
 life. The two men loomed on the noisy smoking com- 
 partment. 
 
 " Tickets, please ! " clicked the conductor sharply. 
 
 Most of the men began to fumble about in their 
 pockets, but the three singers and the one who had 
 been offering the quart bottle did not stir. 
 
 " Ticket, Jack ! " repeated the conductor, " come 
 on, now." 
 
 The big bearded man leaned uncertainly against the 
 seat. 
 
 " Now look here, Bud," he urged in wheedling 
 tones, "I ain't got no ticket. You know how it is, 
 Bud. I blows my stake." He fished uncertainly in his
 
 18 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 pocket and produced the quart bottle, nearly empty, 
 "Have a drink?" 
 
 " No," said the conductor sharply. 
 
 " A' right," replied Jack, amiably, " take one my- 
 self." He tipped the bottle, emptied it, and hurled it 
 through a window. The conductor paid no apparent 
 attention to the breaking of the glass. 
 
 " If you haven't any ticket, you'll have to get off," 
 said he. 
 
 The big man straightened up. 
 
 " You go to hell! " he snorted, and with the sole of 
 his spiked boot delivered a mighty kick at the con- 
 ductor's thigh. 
 
 The official, agile as a wild cat, leaped back, then 
 forward, and knocked the man half the length of the 
 car. You see, he was used to it. Before Jack could 
 regain his feet the offi'cial stood over him. 
 
 The three men in the corner had also risen, and 
 were staggering down the aisle intent on battle. The 
 conductor took in the chances with professional 
 rapidity. 
 
 " Get at 'em, Jimmy," said he. 
 
 And as the big man finally swayed to his feet, he 
 was seized by the collar and trousers in the grip 
 known to " bouncers " everywhere, hustled to the 
 door, which someone obligingly opened, and hurled 
 from. the moving train into the snow. The conductor 
 did not care a straw whether the obstreperous Jack 
 lit on his head or his feet, hit a snowbank or a pile of 
 ties. Those were rough days, and the preservation 
 of authority demanded harsh measures. 
 
 Jimmy had got at 'em in a method of his own. He 
 gathered himself into a ball of potential trouble, and 
 hurled himself bodily at the legs of his opponents 
 which he gathered in a mighty bear hug. It would 
 have been poor fighting had Jimmy to carry the af- 
 fair to a finish by himself, but considered as an ex-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 19 
 
 pedient to gain time for the ejectment proceedings, it 
 was admirable. The conductor returned to find a 
 kicking, rolling, gouging mass of kinetic energy 
 knocking the varnish off all one end of the car. A 
 head appearing, he coolly batted it three times against 
 a corner of the seat arm, after which he pulled the con- 
 testant out by the hair and threw him into a seat where 
 he lay limp. Then it could be seen that Jimmy had 
 clasped tight in his embrace a leg each of the other 
 two. He hugged them close to his breast, and 
 jammed his face down against them to protect his 
 features. They could pound the top of his head and 
 welcome. The only thing he really feared was a kick 
 in the side, and for that there was hardly room. 
 
 The conductor stood over the heap, at a manifest 
 advantage. 
 
 " You lumber-jacks had enough, or do you want 
 to catch it plenty?" 
 
 The men, drunk though they were, realized their 
 helplessness. They signified they had had enough. 
 Jimmy thereupon released them and stood up, brush- 
 ing down his tousled hair with his stubby fingers. 
 
 " Now is it ticket or bounce ? " inquired the con- 
 ductor. 
 
 After some difficulty and grumbling, the two paid 
 their fare and that of the third, who was still dazed. 
 In return the conductor gave them slips. Then he 
 picked his lantern from the overhead rack whither he 
 had tossed it, slung it on his left arm, and sauntered 
 on down the aisle punching tickets. Behind him fol- 
 lowed Jimmy. When he came to the door he swung 
 across the platform with the easy lurch of the train- 
 man, and entered the other car, where he took the 
 tickets of the two women and the boy. One sitting 
 in the second car would have been unable to guess 
 from the bearing or manner of the two officials that 
 anything had gone wrong.
 
 20 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The interested spectators of the little drama in- 
 cluded two men near the water-cooler who were per- 
 fectly sober. One of them was perhaps a little past 
 the best of life, but still straight and vigorous. His 
 tean face was leather-brown in contrast to a long 
 mustache and heavy eyebrows bleached nearly white, 
 his eyes were a clear steady blue, and his frame was 
 slender but wiry. He wore the regulation mackinaw 
 blanket coat, a peaked cap with an extraordinarily 
 high crown, and buckskin moccasins over long stock- 
 ings. 
 
 The other was younger, not more than twenty-six 
 perhaps, with the clean-cut, regular features we have 
 come to consider typically American. Eyebrows that 
 curved far down along the temples, and eyelashes of a 
 darkness in contrast to the prevailing note of his com- 
 plexion combined to lend him a rather brooding, soft, 
 and melancholy air which a very cursory second ex- 
 amination showed to be fictitious. His eyes, like the 
 woodsman's, were steady, but inquiring. His jaw 
 was square and settled, his mouth straight. One 
 would be likely to sum him up as a man whose actions 
 would be little influenced by glamour or even by the 
 sentiments. And yet, equally, it was difficult to rid 
 the mind of the impression produced by his eyes. 
 Unlike the other inmates of the car, he wore an ordi- 
 nary business suit, somewhat worn, but of good cut, 
 and a style that showed even over the soft flannel 
 shirt. The trousers were, however, bound inside the 
 usual socks and rubbers. 
 
 The two seat mates had occupied their time each in 
 his own fashion. To the elder the journey was an 
 evil to be endured with the patience learned in watch- 
 ing deer runways, so he stared straight before him, 
 and spat with a certain periodicity into the centre of 
 the aisle. The younger stretched back lazily in an 
 attitude of ease which spoke of the habit of travelling,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL ^\ 
 
 Sometimes he smoked a pipe. Thrice he read over 
 a letter. It was from his sister, and announced her 
 arrival at the little rural village in which he had made 
 arrangements for her to stay. " It is interesting, 
 now," she wrote, " though the resources do not look 
 as though they would wear well. I am learning under 
 Mrs. Renwick to sweep and dust and bake and stew 
 and do a multitude of other things which I always 
 vaguely supposed came ready-made. I like it; but 
 after I have learned it all, I do not believe the prac- 
 tise will appeal to me much. However, I can stand it 
 well enough for a year or two or three, for I am 
 young ; and then you will have made your everlasting 
 fortune, of course." 
 
 Harry Thorpe experienced a glow of pride each 
 time he read this part of the letter. He liked the 
 frankness of the lack of pretence; he admired the 
 penetration and self-analysis which had taught her the 
 truth that, although learning a new thing is always 
 interesting, the practising of an old one is monoto- 
 nous. And her pluck appealed to him. It is not easy 
 for a girl to step from the position of mistress of ser- 
 vants to that of helping about the housework of a 
 small family in a small town for the sake of the home 
 to be found in it. 
 
 " She's a trump ! " said Thorpe to himself, " and she 
 shall have her everlasting fortune, if there's such a 
 thing in the country." 
 
 He jingled the three dollars and sixty cents in his 
 pocket, and smiled. That was the extent of his ever- 
 lasting fortune at present. 
 
 The letter had been answered from Detroit. 
 
 " I am glad you are settled," he wrote. " At least 
 I know you have enough to eat and a roof over you. 
 I hope sincerely that you will do your best to fit your- 
 self to your new conditions. I know it is hard, but 
 with my lack of experience and my ignorance as to
 
 22 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 where to take hold, it may be a good many years 
 before we can do any better." 
 
 When Helen Thorpe read this, she cried. Things 
 had gone wrong that morning, and an encouraging 
 word would have helped her. The somber tone of her 
 brother's communication threw her into a fit of the 
 blues from which, for the first time, she saw her sur- 
 roundings in a depressing and distasteful light. And 
 yet he had written as he did with the kindest possible 
 motives. 
 
 Thorpe had the misfortune to be one of those indi- 
 viduals who, though careless of what people in gen- 
 eral may think of them, are in a corresponding degree 
 sensitive to the opinion of the few they love. This 
 feeling was further exaggerated by a constitutional 
 shrinking from any outward manifestation of the emo- 
 tions. As a natural result, he was often thought in- 
 different or discouraging when in reality his natural 
 affections were at their liveliest. A failure to procure 
 for a friend certain favors or pleasures dejected him, 
 not only because of that friend's disappointment, but 
 because, also, he imagined the failure earned him a 
 certain blame. Blame from his heart's intimates he 
 shrank from. His life outside the inner circles of his 
 affections was apt to be so militant and so divorced 
 from considerations of amity, that as a matter of 
 natural reaction he became inclined to exaggerate the 
 importance of small objections, little reproaches, 
 slight criticisms from his real friends. Such criticisms 
 seemed to bring into a sphere he would have liked to 
 keep solely for the mutual reliance of loving kindness, 
 sorrething of the hard utilitarianism of the world at 
 large. In consequence he gradually came to choose 
 the line of least resistance, to avoid instinctively even 
 the slightly disagreeable. Perhaps for this reason he 
 was never entirely sincere with those he loved. He 
 never gave assent to, manifested approval of, or
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 23 
 
 showed enthusiasm over any plan suggested by them, 
 for the reason that he never dared offer a merely prob- 
 lematical anticipation. The affair had to be abso- 
 lutely certain in his own mind before he ventured to 
 admit anyone to the pleasure of looking forward to 
 it, and simply because he so feared the disappoint- 
 ment in case anything should go wrong. He did not 
 realize that not only is the pleasure of anticipation 
 often the best, but that even disappointment, provided 
 it happen through excusable causes, strengthens the 
 bonds of affection through sympathy. We do not 
 want merely results from a friend, merely finished 
 products. We like to be in at the making, even 
 though the product spoil. 
 
 This unfortunate tendency, together with his re- 
 serve, lent him the false attitude of a rather cold, self- 
 centered man, discouraging suggestions at first only 
 to adopt them later in the most inexplicable fashion, 
 and conferring favors in a ready-made impersonal 
 manner which destroyed utterly their quality as favors. 
 In reality his heart hungered for the affection which 
 this false attitude generally repelled. He threw the 
 wet blanket of doubt over warm young enthusiasms 
 because his mind worked with a certain deliberateness 
 which did not at once permit him to see the prac- 
 ticability of the scheme. Later he would approve. 
 But by that time, probably, the wet blanket had ef- 
 fectually extinguished the glow. You cannot always 
 savor your pleasures cold. 
 
 So after the disgrace of his father, Harry Thorpe 
 did a great deal of thinking and planning which he 
 kept carefully to himself. He considered in turn the 
 different occupations to which he could turn his hand, 
 and negatived them one by one. Few business firms 
 would care to employ the son of as shrewd an embez- 
 zler as Henry Thorpe. Finally he came to a decision. 
 He communicated this decision to his sister. It would
 
 24 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 have commended itself more logically to her had she 
 been able to follow step by step the considerations that 
 .had led her brother to it. As the event turned, she 
 was forced to accept it blindly. She knew that her 
 brother intended going West, but as to his hopes and 
 plans she was in ignorance. A little sympathy, a lit- 
 tle mutual understanding would have meant a great 
 deal to her, for a girl whose mother she but dimly re- 
 members, turns naturally to her next of kin. Helen 
 Thorpe had always admired her brother, but had 
 never before needed him. She had looked upon him 
 as strong, self-contained, a little moody. Now the 
 -toae of his letter caused her to wonder whether he 
 were not also a trifle hard and cold. So she wept on 
 receiving it, and the tears watered the ground for dis- 
 content. 
 
 At the beginning of the row in the smoking car, 
 Thorpe laid aside his letter and watched with keen 
 .appreciation the direct practicality of the trainmen's 
 method. When the bearded man fell before the 
 conductor's blow, he turned to the individual at 
 his side. 
 
 " He knows how to hit, doesn't he 1 " he observed. 
 ** That fellow was knocked well off his feet." 
 
 " He does," agreed the other dryly. 
 
 They fell into a desultory conversation of fits and 
 starts. Woodsmen of the genuine sort are never talka- 
 tive ; and Thorpe, as has been explained, was consti- 
 tutionally reticent. In the course of their disjointed 
 remarks Thorpe explained that he was looking for 
 work in the woods, and intended, first of all, to try 
 the Morrison & Daly camps at Beeson Lake. 
 
 " Know anything about logging ? " inquired the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Nothing," Thorpe confessed. 
 
 " Ain't much show for anything but 
 "What did you think of doing? "
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 25 
 
 w I don't know," sard Thorpe, doubtfully. " I have 
 driven horses a good deal; I thought I might drive 
 team." 
 
 The woodsman turned slowly and looked Thorpe 
 over with a quizzical eye. Then he faced to the front 
 again and spat. 
 
 " Quite like," he replied still more dryly. 
 
 The boy's remark had amused him, and he had 
 showed it, as much as he ever showed anything. Ex- 
 cepting always the riverman, the driver of a team 
 commands the highest wages among out-of-door 
 workers. He has to be able to guide his horses by lit- 
 tle steps over, through, and around slippery and brist- 
 ling difficulties. He must acquire the knack of facing 
 them square about in their tracks. He must hold 
 them under a control that will throw into their col- 
 lars, at command, from five pounds to their full power 
 of pull, lasting from five seconds to five minutes. And 
 above all, he must be able to keep them out of the 
 way of tremendous loads of logs on a road which con- 
 stant sprinkling has rendered smooth and glassy, at 
 the same time preventing the long tongue from 
 sweeping them bodily against leg-breaking debris 
 when a curve in the road is reached. It is easier to 
 drive a fire engine than a logging team. 
 
 But in spite of the naivete of the remark, the woods- 
 man had seen something in Thorpe he liked. Such 
 men become rather expert in the reading of character, 
 and often in a log shanty you will hear opinions of a 
 shrewdness to surprise you. He revised his first in- 
 tention to let the conversation drop. 
 
 " I think M. & D. is rather full up just now," he 
 remarked. " I'm walkin'-boss there. The roads is 
 about all made, and road-making is what a green- 
 horn tackles first. They's more chance earlier in the 
 year. But if the Old Fellow " (he strongly accented 
 the first word) " h'aint nothin' for you, just ask for
 
 26 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Tim Shearer, an' I'll try to put you on the trail for 
 some jobber's camp." 
 
 The whistle of the locomotive blew, and the conduc- 
 tor appeared in the doorway. 
 
 " Where's that fellow's turkey? " he inquired. 
 
 Several men looked toward Thorpe, who, not under- 
 standing this argot of the camps, was a little bewil- 
 dered. Shearer reached over his head and took from 
 the rack a heavy canvas bag, which he handed to the 
 conductor. 
 
 "That's the 'turkey' " he explained, "his war 
 bag. Bud'll throw it off at Scott's, and Jack'll get it 
 there." 
 
 " How far back is he ? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " About ten mile. He'll hoof it in all right." 
 
 A number of men descended at Scott's. The three 
 who had come into collision with Jimmy and Bud 
 were getting noisier. They had produced a stone jug, 
 and had collected the remainder of the passengers, 
 with the exception of Shearer and Thorpe, and now 
 were passing the jug rapidly from hand to hand. 
 Soon they became musical, striking up one of the 
 weird long-drawn-out chants so popular with the 
 shanty boy. Thorpe shrewdly guessed his compan- 
 ion to be a man of weight, and did not hesitate to 
 ascribe his immunity from annoyance to the other's 
 presence. 
 
 " It's a bad thing," said the walking-boss, " I used 
 to be at it myself, and I know. When I wanted 
 whisky, I needed it worse than a scalded pup does a 
 snow bank. The first year I had a hundred and fifty 
 dollars, and I blew her all in six days. Next year I 
 had a little more, but she lasted me three weeks. That 
 was better. Next year, I says to myself, I'll just save 
 fifty of that stake, and blow the rest. So I did. After 
 that I got to be sealer, and sort've quit. I just made 
 a deal with the Old Fellow to leave my stake with
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 27 
 
 headquarters no matter whether I call for it or not. 
 I got quite a lot coming, now." 
 
 " Bees'n Lake!" cried Jimmy fiercely through an 
 aperture of the door. 
 
 " You'll find th' boardin'-house just across over the 
 track," said the woodsman, holding out his hand, " so , 
 long. See you again if you don't find a job with the 
 Old Fellow. My name's Shearer." 
 
 "Mine is Thorpe," replied the other. "Thank 
 you." 
 
 The woodsman stepped forward past the carousers 
 to the baggage compartment, where he disappeared. 
 The revellers stumbled out the other door. 
 
 Thorpe followed and found himself on the frozen 
 platform of a little dark railway station. As he 
 walked, the boards shrieked under his feet and the 
 sharp air nipped at his face and caught his lungs. Be- 
 yond the fence-rail protection to the side of the plat- 
 form he thought he saw the suggestion of a broad 
 reach of snow, a distant lurking forest, a few shadowy 
 buildings looming mysterious in the night. The air 
 was twinkling with frost and the brilliant stars of the 
 north country. 
 
 Directly across the track from the railway station, 
 a single building was pricked from the dark by a soli- 
 tary lamp in a lower-story room. The four who had 
 descended before Thorpe made over toward this 
 light, stumbling and laughing uncertainly, so he knew 
 it was probably in the boarding-house, and prepared 
 to follow them. Shearer and the station agent, an 
 individual much muffled, turned to the disposition 
 of some light freight that had been dropped from the 
 baggage car. 
 
 The five were met at the steps by the proprietor of 
 the boarding-house. This man was short and stout, 
 with a harelip and cleft palate, which at once gave 
 him the well-known slurring speech of persons so
 
 28 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 afflicted, and imparted also to the timbre of his voice 
 a peculiarly hollow, resonant, trumpet-like note. He 
 stumped about energetically on a wooden leg of home 
 manufacture. It was a cumbersome instrument, 
 heavy, with deep pine socket for the stump, and a 
 projecting brace which passed under a leather belf 
 around the man's waist. This instrument he used 
 with the dexterity of a third hand. As Thorpe watched 
 him, he drove in a projecting nail, kicked two 
 " turkeys " dexterously inside the open door, and 
 stuck the armed end of his peg-leg through the top 
 and bottom of the whisky jug that one of the new ar- 
 rivals had set down near the door. The whisky 
 promptly ran out. At this the cripple flirted the im- 
 paled jug from the wooden leg far out over the rail 
 of the verandah into the snow. 
 
 A growl went up. 
 
 " What'n hell's that for ! " snarled one of the owners 
 of the whisky threateningly. 
 
 " Don't allow no whisky here," snuffed the harelip. 
 
 The men were very angry. They advanced toward 
 the cripple, who retreated with astonishing agility to 
 the lighted room. There he bent the wooden leg be- 
 hind him, slipped the end of the brace from beneath 
 the leather belt, seized the other, peg end in his right 
 hand, and so became possessed of a murderous bludg- 
 eon. This he brandished, hopping at the same time 
 back and forth in such perfect poise and yet with so 
 ludicrous an effect of popping corn, that the men were 
 surprised into laughing. 
 
 " Bully for you, peg-leg ! " they cried. 
 
 " Rules 'n regerlations, boys," replied the latter, 
 without, however, a shade of compromising in his 
 tones. " Had supper? " 
 
 On receiving a reply in the affirmative, he caught 
 up the lamp, and, having resumed his artificial leg in 
 one deft motion, led the way to narrow little rooms.
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 rHORPE was awakened a long time before 
 daylight by the ringing of a noisy bell. He 
 dressed, shivering, and stumbled down stairs 
 to a round stove, big as a boiler, into which the cripple 
 dumped huge logs of wood from time to time. After 
 breakfast Thorpe returned to this stove and sat half 
 dozing for what seemed to him untold ages. The cold 
 of the north country was initiating him. 
 
 Men came in, smoked a brief pipe, and went ouf.- 
 Shearer was one of them. The woodsman nodded; 
 curtly to the young man, his cordiality quite gone, 
 Thorpe vaguely wondered why. After a time he him- 
 self put on his overcoat and ventured out into the 
 town. It seemed to Thorpe a meager affair, built of 
 lumber, mostly unpainted, with always the dark, men- 
 acing fringe of the forest behind. The great saw 
 mill, with its tall stacks and its row of water-barrels 
 protection against fire on top, was the dominant 
 note. Near the mill crouched a little red-painted 
 structure from whose stovepipe a column of white 
 smoke rose, attesting the cold, a clear hundred feet 
 straight upward, and to whose door a number of men* 
 were directing their steps through the snow. Over 
 the door Thorpe could distinguish the word " Office." 
 He followed and entered. 
 
 In a narrow aisle railed off from the main part of 
 the room waited Thorpe's companions of the night 
 before. The remainder of the office gave accommo- 
 dation to three clerks. One of these glanced up in- 
 quiringly as Thorpe came in. 
 
 " I am looking for work," said Thorpe. 
 29
 
 30 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " Wait there," briefly commanded the clerk. 
 
 In a few moments the door of the inner room 
 opened, and Shearer came out. A man's head peered 
 from within. 
 
 " Come on, boys," said he. 
 
 The five applicants shuffled through. Thorpe found 
 himself in the presence of a man whom he felt to be 
 the natural leader of these wild, independent spirits. 
 He was already a little past middle life, and his form 
 had lost the elastic vigor of youth. But his eye was 
 keen, clear, and wrinkled to a certain dry facetious- 
 ness ; and his figure was of that bulk which gives an 
 impression of a subtler weight and power than the 
 merely physical. This peculiarity impresses us in 
 the portraits of such men as Daniel Webster and 
 others of the old jurists. The manner of the man 
 was easy, good-natured, perhaps a little facetious, but 
 these qualities were worn rather as garments than 
 exhibited as characteristics. He could afford them, 
 not because he had fewer difficulties to overcome or 
 battles to fight than another, but because his strength 
 was so sufficient to them that mere battles or diffi- 
 culties could not affect the deliberateness of his hu- 
 mor. You felt his superiority even when he was most 
 comradely with you. This man Thorpe was to meet 
 under other conditions, wherein the steel hand would 
 more plainly clink the metal. 
 
 He was now seated in a worn office chair before a 
 littered desk. In the close air hung the smell of stale 
 cigars and the clear fragrance of pine. 
 
 " What is it, Dennis ? " he asked the first of the 
 men. 
 
 " I've been out," replied the lumberman. " Have 
 you got anything for me, Mr. Daly ? " 
 
 The mill-owner laughed. 
 
 " I guess so. Report to Shearer. Did you vote for 
 the right man, Denny ? "
 
 "THE BLAZED TRAIL 31 
 
 The lumberman grinned sheepishly. " I don't 
 know, sir. I didn't get that far." 
 
 " Better let it alone. I suppose you and Bill want 
 to come back, too ? " he added, turning to the next 
 two in the line. " All right, report to Tim. Do you 
 want work? " he inquired of the last of the quartette,' 
 a big bashful man with the shoulders of a Hercules. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the latter uncomfortably. 
 
 "What do you do?" 
 
 " I'm a cant-hook man, sir." 
 
 " Where have you worked ? " 
 
 " I had a job with Morgan & Stebbins on the Gear 
 River last winter." 
 
 " All right, we need cant-hook men. Report at 
 ' seven,' and if they don't want you there, go to ' thir- 
 teen.' " 
 
 Daly looked directly at the man with an air of 
 finality. The lumberman still lingered uneasily, twist- 
 ing his cap in his hands. 
 
 " Anything you want ? " asked Daly at last. 
 
 " Yes, sir," blurted the big man. " If I come down 
 here and tell you I want three days off and fifty dol- 
 lars to bury my mother, I wish you'd tell me to go to 
 hell! I buried her three times last winter 1" 
 
 Daly chuckled a little. 
 
 " All right, Bub," said he, " to hell it is." 
 
 The man went out. Daly turned to Thorpe with 
 the last flickers of amusement in his eyes. 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " he inquired in a little 
 crisper tones. Thorpe felt that he was not treated 
 with the same careless familiarity, because, potentiv 
 ally, he might be more of a force to deal with. He 
 underwent, too, the man's keen scrutiny, and knew 
 that, every detail of his appearance had found its com- 
 ment in the other's experienced brain. 
 
 " I am looking for work," Thorpe replied 
 
 "What kind of work?"
 
 32 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 "Any kind, so I can learn something about the 
 lumber business." 
 
 The older man studied him keenly for a few mo- 
 ments. 
 
 " Have you had any other business experience ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 " What have you been doing? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 The lumberman's eyes hardened. 
 
 " We are a very busy firm here," he said with a 
 certain deliberation ; " we do not carry a big force of 
 men in any one department, and each of those men 
 has to fill his place and slop some over the sides. We 
 do not pretend or attempt to teach here. If you want 
 to be a lumberman, you must learn the lumber busi- 
 ness more directly than through the windows of a 
 bookkeeper's office. Go into the woods. Learn a 
 few first principles. Find out the difference between 
 Norway and white pine, anyway." 
 
 Daly, being what is termed a self-made man, en- 
 tertained a prejudice against youths of the leisure 
 class. He did not believe in their earnestness of pur- 
 pose, their capacity for knowledge, nor their perse- 
 verance in anything. That a man of twenty-six 
 should be looking for his first situation was incom- 
 prehensible to him. He made no effort to conceal 
 his prejudice, because the class to which the young 
 man had belonged enjoyed his hearty contempt. 
 
 The truth is, he had taken Thorpe's ignorance a 
 little too much for granted. Before leaving his home, 
 and while the project of emigration was still in the 
 air, the young fellow had, with the quiet enthusiasm 
 of men of his habit of mind, applied himself to the 
 mastering of whatever the books could teach. That 
 is not much. The literature on lumbering seems to 
 be singularly limited. Still he knew the trees, and 
 had sketched an outline into which to paint expert-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 33 
 
 ence. He said nothing of this to the man before 
 because of that strange streak in his nature which 
 prompted him to conceal what he felt most strongly ; 
 to leave to others the task of guessing out his atti- 
 tude ; to stand on appearances without attempting to 
 justify them, no matter how simple the justification 
 might be. A moment's frank, straightforward talk 
 might have caught Daly's attention, for the lumber- 
 man was, after all, a shrewd reader of character where 
 his prejudices were not concerned. Then events 
 would have turned out very differently. 
 
 After his speech the business man had whirled back 
 to his desk. 
 
 " Have you anything for me to do in the woods, 
 then? " the other asked quietly. 
 
 " No," said Daly over his shoulder. 
 
 Thorpe went out. 
 
 Before leaving Detroit he had, on the advice of 
 friends, visited the city office of Morrison & Daly. 
 There he had been told positively that the firm were 
 hiring men. Now, without five dollars in his pocket, 
 he made the elementary discovery that even in chop- 
 ping wood skilled labor counts. He did not know 
 where to turn next, and he would not have had the 
 money to go far in any case. So, although Shearer's 
 brusque greeting that morning had argued a lack of 
 cordiality, he resolved to remind the riverman of his 
 promised assistance. 
 
 That noon he carried out his resolve. To his sur- 
 prise Shearer was cordial in his way. He came 
 afterward to appreciate the subtle nuances of manner 
 and treatment by which a boss retains his moral su- 
 premacy in a lumber country, repels that too great 
 familiarity which breeds contempt, without imperil- 
 ing the trust and comradeship which breeds will- 
 ingness. In the morning Thorpe had been a pros- 
 pective employee of the firm, and so a possible
 
 34 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 subordinate of Shearer himself. Now he was Shearer's 
 equal. 
 
 " Go up and tackle Radway. He's jobbing for us 
 on the Cass Branch. He needs men for roadin', I 
 know, because he's behind. You'll get a job there," 
 
 " Where is it ? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " Ten miles from here. She's blazed, but you bet- 
 ter wait for th' supply team, Friday. If you try to 
 make her yourself, you'll get lost on some of th old 
 loggin' roads." 
 
 Thorpe considered. 
 
 " I'm busted," he said at last frankly. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," replied the walking-boss. 
 " Marshall, come here ! " 
 
 The peg-legged boarding-house keeper stumped in. 
 
 " What is it ? " he trumpeted snufflingly. 
 
 " This boy wants a job till Friday. Then he's go- 
 ing up to Radway's with the supply team. Now quit 
 your hollerin' for a chore-boy for a few days." 
 
 " All right," snorted Marshall, " take that ax and 
 split some dry wood that you'll find behind th' house.** 
 
 " I'm very much obliged to you," began Thorpe to 
 the walking-boss, " and " 
 
 "That's all right," interrupted the latter, " some 
 day you can give me a job."
 
 Chapter V 
 
 FT^OR five days Thorpe cut wood, made fires, 
 rj drew water, swept floors, and ran errands. 
 M. Sometimes he would look across the broad 
 stump-dotted plain to the distant forest. He had 
 imagination. No business man succeeds without it. 
 With him the great struggle to wrest from an impass- 
 ive and aloof nature what she has so long held secure- 
 ly as her own, took on the proportions of a battle. 
 The distant forest was the front. To it went the new 
 bands of fighters. From it came the caissons for food, 
 that ammunition of the frontier ; messengers bringing 
 tidings of defeat or victory; sometimes men groan- 
 ing on their litters from the twisting and crushing and 
 breaking inflicted on them by the calm, ruthless en- 
 emy ; once a dead man bearing still on his chest the 
 mark of the tree that had killed him. Here at head- 
 quarters sat the general, map in hand, issuing his 
 orders, directing his forces. 
 
 And out of the forest came mystery. Hunters 
 brought deer on sledges. Indians, observant and 
 grave, swung silently across the reaches on their 
 snowshoes, and silently back again carrying their mea- 
 ger purchases. In the daytime ravens wheeled and 
 croaked about the outskirts of the town, bearing the 
 shadow of the woods on their plumes and of the 
 north-wind in the somber quality of their voices ; rare 
 eagles wheeled gracefully to and fro; snow squalls 
 coquetted with the landscape. At night the many 
 creatures of the forest ventured out across the plains 
 in search of food, weasels ; big white hares ; deer, 
 
 35
 
 36 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 planting daintily their little sharp hoofs where the 
 frozen turnips were most plentiful; porcupines in 
 quest of anything they could get their keen teeth in- 
 to; and often the big timber wolves would send 
 shivering across the waste a long whining howl. And 
 in the morning their tracks would embroider the snow 
 with many stories. 
 
 The talk about the great stove in the boarding- 
 house office also possessed the charm of balsam fra- 
 grance. One told the other occult facts about the 
 " Southeast of the southwest of eight." The second 
 in turn vouchsafed information about another point of 
 the compass. Thorpe heard of many curious practical 
 expedients. He learned that one can prevent awk- 
 ward air-holes in lakes by " tapping " the ice with an 
 ax, for the air must get out, naturally or artifici- 
 ally ; that the top log on a load should not be large 
 because of the probability, when one side has dumped 
 with a rush, of its falling straight down from its orig- 
 inal height, so breaking the sleigh; that a thin slice 
 of salt pork well peppered is good when tied about 
 a sore throat; that choking a horse will cause him 
 to swell up and float on the top of the water, thus 
 rendering it easy to slide him out on the ice from 
 a hole he may have broken into; that a tree lodged 
 against another may be brought to the ground by 
 felling a third against it, that snowshoes made of 
 caribou hide do not become baggy, because caribou 
 shrinks when wet, whereas other rawhide stretches. 
 These, and many other things too complicated to 
 elaborate here, he heard discussed by expert opinion. 
 Gradually he acquired an enthusiasm for the woods, 
 just as a boy conceives a longing for the out-of-door 
 life of which he hears in the conversation of his elders 
 about the winter fire. He became eager to get away 
 to the front, to stand among the pines, to grapple with 
 the difficulties of thicket, hill, snow, and cold that
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 37 
 
 nature silently interposes between the man and his 
 task. 
 
 At the end of the week he received four dollars from 
 his employer ; dumped his valise into a low bobsleigh 
 driven by a man muffled in a fur coat; assisted in 
 loading the sleigh with a variety of things, from 
 Spearhead plug to raisins ; and turned his face at last 
 toward the land of his hopes and desires. 
 
 The long drive t > camp was at once a delight and a 
 misery to him. Its miles stretched longer and longer 
 as time went on; and the miles of a route new to a 
 man are always one and a half at least. The forest, 
 so mysterious and inviting from afar, drew within 
 itself coldly when Thorpe entered it. He was as yet a 
 stranger. The snow became the prevailing note. The 
 white was everywhere, concealing jealously beneath 
 rounded uniformity the secrets of the woods. And 
 it was cold. First Thorpe's feet became numb, then 
 his hands, then his nose was nipped, and finally his 
 warm clothes were lifted from him by invisible hands, 
 and he was left naked to shivers and tremblings. He 
 found it torture to sit still on the top of the bale of 
 hay; and yet he could not bear to contemplate the 
 cold shock of jumping from the sleigh to the ground, 
 of touching foot to the chilling snow. The driver 
 pulled up to breathe his horses at the top of a hill, 
 and to fasten under one runner a heavy chain, which, 
 grinding into the snow, would act as a brake on the 
 descent. 
 
 " You're dressed pretty light," he advised ; " better 
 hoof it a ways and get warm." 
 
 The words tipped the balance of Thorpe's decision. 
 He descended stiffly, conscious of a disagreeable 
 shock from a six-inch jump. 
 
 In ten minutes, the wallowing, slipping, and leap- 
 ing after the tail of the sled had sent his blood ting- 
 ling to the last of his protesting members. Cold with-
 
 38 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 drew. He saw now that the pines were beautiful and 
 solemn and still ; and that in the temple of their col- 
 umns dwelt winter enthroned. Across the carpet of 
 the snow wandered the trails of her creatures, the 
 stately regular prints of the partridge; the series of 
 pairs made by the squirrel; those of the weasel and 
 mink, just like the squirrels' except that the prints 
 were not quite side by side, and that between every 
 other pair stretched the mark of the animal's long, 
 slender body ; the delicate tracery of the deer mouse ; 
 the fan of the rabbit ; the print of a baby's hand that 
 the raccoon left; the broad pad of a lynx; the dog- 
 like trail of wolves ; these, and a dozen others, all 
 equally unknown, gave Thorpe the impression of a 
 great mysterious multitude of living things which 
 moved about him invisible. In a thicket of cedar and 
 scrub willow near the bed of a stream, he encoun- 
 tered one of those strangely assorted bands of woods- 
 creatures which are always cruising it through the 
 country. He heard the cheerful little chickadee ; he 
 saw the grave nuthatch with its appearance of a total 
 lack of humor ; he glimpsed a black-and-white wood- 
 pecker or so, and was reviled by a ribald blue jay. Al- 
 ready the wilderness was taking its character to him. 
 
 After a little while, they arrived by way of a hill, 
 over which they plunged into the middle of the camp. 
 Thorpe saw three large buildings, backed end to 
 end, and two smaller ones, all built of heavy logs, 
 roofed with plank, and lighted sparsely through one 
 or two windows apiece. The driver pulled up opposite 
 the space between two of the larger buildings, and be- 
 gan to unload his provisions. Thorpe set about aid- 
 ing him, and so found himself for the first time in a 
 " cook camp." 
 
 It was a commodious building, Thorpe had no 
 idea a log structure ever contained so much room. 
 One end furnished space for two cooking ranges and
 
 two bunks placed one over the other. Along one sidfr 
 ran a broad table-shelf, with other shelves over it and 
 numerous barrels underneath, all filled with cans, 
 loaves of bread, cookies, and pies. The center was 
 occupied by four long bench-flanked tables, down 
 whose middle straggled utensils containing sugar, 
 apple-butter, condiments, and sauces, and whose 
 edges were set with tin dishes for about forty men. 
 The cook, a rather thin-faced man with a mustache, 
 directed where the provisions were to be stowed ; and 
 the " cookee," a hulking youth, assisted Thorpe and 
 the driver to carry them in. During the course of 
 the work Thorpe made a mistake. 
 
 " That stuff doesn't come here," objected the 
 cookee, indicating a box of tobacco the newcomer 
 was carrying. " She goes to the * van.' " 
 
 Thorpe did not know what the " van " might be, 
 but he replaced the tobacco on the sleigh. In a few 
 moments the task was finished, with the exception 
 of a half dozen other cases, which the driver desig- 
 nated as also for the " van." The horses were un- 
 hitched, and stabled in the third of the big log build- 
 ings. The driver indicated the second. 
 
 " Better go into the men's camp and sit down 'till 
 th' boss gets in," he advised. 
 
 Thorpe entered a dim, over-heated structure, lined 
 on two sides by a double tier of large bunks parti- 
 tioned from one another like cabins of boats, and cen- 
 tered by a huge stove over which hung slender poles. 
 The latter were to dry clothes on. Just outside the 
 bunks ran a straight hard bench. Thorpe stood at the 
 entrance trying to accustom his eyes to the dimness. 
 
 " Set down," said a voice, " on th' floor if you want 
 to; but I'd prefer th' deacon seat." 
 
 Thorpe obediently took position on the bench, or 
 "deacon seat." His eyes, more used to the light/ 
 could make out a thin, tall, bent old man, with bare
 
 40 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 cranium, two visible teeth, and a three days' stubble 
 of white beard over his meager, twisted face. 
 
 He caught, perhaps, Thorpe's surprised expression. 
 
 "You think th' old man's no good, do you?" he 
 cackled, without the slightest malice, " looks is de- 
 ceivin' ! " He sprang up swiftly, seized the toe of his 
 right foot in his left hand, and jumped his left foot 
 through the loop thus formed. Then he sat down 
 again, and laughed at Thorpe's astonishment. 
 
 " Old Jackson's still purty smart," said he. " I'm 
 barn-boss. They ain't a man in th' country knows 
 as much about hosses as I do. We ain't had but two 
 sicV this fall, an' between you an' me, they's a skate 
 lot. You're a greenhorn, ain't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," confessed Thorpe. 
 
 " Well," said Jackson, reflectively but rapidly, " Le 
 Fabian, he's quiet but bad; and O'Grady, he talks 
 loud but you can bluff him ; and Perry, he's only bad 
 when he gets full of red likker ; and Norton he's bad 
 when he gets mad like, and will use axes." 
 
 Thorpe did not know he was getting valuable points 
 on the camp bullies. The old man hitched nearer and 
 peered in his face. 
 
 " They don't bluff you a bit," he said, " unless you 
 likes them, and then they can back you way off the 
 skidway." 
 
 Thorpe smiled at the old fellow's volubility. He 
 did not know how near to the truth the woodsman's 
 shrewdness had hit ; for to himself, as to most strong 
 characters, his peculiarities were the normal, and 
 therefore the unnoticed. His habit of thought in re- 
 spect to other people was rather objective than sub- 
 jective. He inquired so impersonally the significance 
 of whatever was before him, that it lost the human 
 quality both as to itself and himself. To him men 
 were things. This attitude relieved him of self-con- 
 sciousness. He never bothered his head as to what
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 41 
 
 the other man thought of him, his ignorance, or his 
 awkwardness, simply because to him the other man 
 was nothing but an element in his problem. So in 
 such circumstances he learned fast. Once introduce 
 the human element, however, and his absurdly sensi- 
 tive self-consciousness asserted itself. He was, as 
 Jackson expressed it, backed off the skidway. 
 
 At dark the old man lit two lamps, which served 
 dimly to gloze the shadows, and thrust logs of wood 
 into the cast-iron stove. Soon after, the men came in. 
 They were a queer, mixed lot. Some carried the in- 
 disputable stamp of the frontiersman in their bear- 
 ing and glance ; others looked to be mere day-labor- 
 ers, capable of performing whatever task they were 
 set to, and of finding the trail home again. There 
 were active, clean-built, precise Frenchmen, with 
 small hands and feet, and a peculiarly trim way of 
 wearing their rough garments; typical native-born 
 American lumber-jacks powerful in frame, rakish in 
 air, reckless in manner; big blonde Scandinavians and 
 Swedes, strong men at the sawing; an Indian or so, 
 strangely in contrast to the rest ; and a variety of Irish- 
 men, Englishmen, and Canadians. These men tramped 
 in without a word, and set busily to work at various 
 tasks. Some sat on the " deacon seat " and began to 
 take off their socks and rubbers; others washed at a 
 little wooden sink; still others selected and lit lanterns 
 from a pendant row near the window, and followed old 
 Jackson out of doors. They were the teamsters. 
 
 " You'll find the old man in the office," said Jack- 
 son. 
 
 Thorpe made his way across to the small log cabin 
 indicated as the office, and pushed open the door. 
 He found himself in a little room containing two 
 bunks, a stove, a counter and desk, and a number of 
 shelves full of supplies. About the walls hung fire- 
 arms, snowshoes, and a variety of clothes.
 
 42 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 A man sat at the desk placing figures on a sheet of 
 paper. He obtained the figures from statistics pen- 
 cilled on three thin leaves of beech-wood riveted to- 
 gether. In a chair by the stove lounged a bulkier 
 figure, which Thorpe concluded to be that of the 
 "old man." 
 
 " I was sent here by Shearer," said Thorpe directly ; 
 "he said you might give me some work." 
 
 So long a silence fell that the applicant began to 
 wonder if his question had been heard. 
 
 " I might," replied the man drily at last. 
 
 " Well, will you ? " Thorpe inquired, the humor of 
 the situation overcoming him. 
 
 " Have you ever worked in the woods ? " 
 
 " No." 
 x The man smoked silently. 
 
 " I'll put you on the road in the morning," he con- 
 cluded, as though this were the deciding qualification. 
 
 One of the men entered abruptly and approached 
 the counter. The writer at the desk laid aside his 
 tablets. 
 
 " What is it, Albert?" he added. 
 
 " Jot of chewin'," was the reply. 
 
 The sealer took from the shelf a long plug of to- 
 bacco and cut off two inches. 
 
 " Ain't hitting the van much, are you, Albert ? " he 
 commented, putting the man's name and the amount 
 in a little book. Thorpe went out, after leaving his 
 name for the time book, enlightened as to the method 
 of obtaining supplies. He promised himself some 
 warm clothing from the van, when he should have 
 worked out the necessary credit. 
 
 At supper he learned something else, that he 
 must not talk at table. A moment's reflection taught 
 him the common-sense of the rule. For one thing, 
 supper was a much briefer affair than it would have 
 been had every man felt privileged to take his will ia
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 43 
 
 conversation; not to speak of the absence of noise 
 and the presence of peace. Each man asked for what 
 he wanted. 
 
 " Please pass the beans," he said with the deliberate 
 intonation of a man who does not expect that his re- 
 quest will be granted. 
 
 Besides the beans were fried salt pork, boiled pota- 
 toes, canned corn, mince pie, a variety of cookies and 
 doughnuts, and strong green tea. Thorpe found him- 
 self eating ravenously of the crude fare. 
 
 That evening he underwent a catechism, a few prac- 
 tical jokes, which he took good-naturedly, and a vast 
 deal of chaffing. At nine the lights were all out. By 
 daylight he and a dozen other men were at work, hew- 
 ing a road that had to be as smooth and level as a 
 New York boulevard.
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 rHORPE and four others were set to work on 
 this road, which was to be cut through a creek 
 bottom leading, he was told, to " seventeen." 
 The figures meant nothing to him. Later, each num- 
 ber came to possess an individuality of its own. He 
 learned to use a double-bitted ax. 
 
 Thorpe's intelligence was of the practical sort that 
 wonderfully helps experience. He watched closely 
 one of the older men, and analyzed the relation borne 
 by each one of his movements to the object in view. 
 In a short time he perceived that one hand and arm 
 are mere continuations of the helve, attaching the 
 blade of the ax to the shoulder of the wielder; and 
 that the other hand directs the stroke. He acquired 
 the knack thus of throwing the bit of steel into the 
 gash as though it were a baseball on the end of a 
 string; and so accomplished power. By experiment 
 he learned just when to slide the guiding hand down 
 the helve ; and so gained accuracy. He suffered none 
 of those accidents so common to new choppers. His 
 ax did not twist itself from his hands, nor glance to 
 cut his foot. He attained the method of the double 
 bit, and how to knock roots by alternate employment 
 of the edge and flat. In a few days his hands became 
 hard and used to the cold. 
 
 From shortly after daylight he worked. Four 
 other men bore him company, and twice Radway him- 
 self came by, watched their operations for a moment, 
 and moved on without comment. After Thorpe had 
 caught his second wind, he enjoyed his task, proving 
 
 44
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 45 
 
 a certain pleasure in the ease with which he handled 
 his tool. 
 
 At the end of an interminable period, a faint, mu- 
 sical halloo swelled, echoed, and died through the 
 forest, beautiful as a spirit. It was taken up by an- 
 other voice and repeated. Then by another. Now 
 near at hand, now far away it rang as hollow as a 
 bell. The sawyers, the swampers, the skidders, and 
 the team men turned and put on their heavy blanket 
 coats. 
 
 Down on the road Thorpe heard it too, and won- 
 dered what it might be. 
 
 " Come on, Bub ! she means chew ! " explained old 
 man Heath kindly. Old man Heath was a veteran 
 woodsman who had come to swamping in his old age. 
 He knew the game thoroughly, but could never save 
 his " stake " when Pat McGinnis, the saloon man, 
 enticed him in. Throughout the morning he had 
 kept an eye on the newcomer, and was secretly pleased 
 in his heart of the professional at the readiness with 
 which the young fellow learned. 
 
 Thorpe resumed his coat, and fell in behind the lit- 
 tle procession. After a short time he came upon a 
 horse and sledge. Beyond it the cookee had built a 
 little camp fire, around and over which he had 
 grouped big fifty-pound lard-tins, half full of hot 
 things to eat. Each man, as he approached, picked 
 up a tin plate and cup from a pile near at hand. 
 
 The cookee was plainly master of the situation. He. 
 issued peremptory orders. When Erickson, the 
 blonde Swede, attempted surreptitiously to appropri- 
 ate a doughnut, the youth turned on him savagely. 
 
 " Get out of that, you big tow-head ! " he cried with 
 
 V * ,1 
 
 an oath. 
 
 A dozen Canada jays, fluffy, impatient, perched 
 near by or made little short circles over and back. 
 They awaited the remains of the dinner. Bob Stratton
 
 46 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 and a devil-may-care giant by the name of Nolan con- 
 structed a joke wherewith to amuse the interim. They 
 cut a long pole, and placed it across a log and through 
 a bush, so that one extremity projected beyond the 
 bush. Then diplomacy won a piece of meat from the 
 cookee. This they nailed to the end of the pole by 
 means of a pine sliver. The Canada jays gazed on 
 the morsel with covetous eyes. When the men had 
 retired, they swooped. One big fellow arrived first, 
 and lit in defiance of the rest. 
 
 " Give it to 'im ! " whispered Nolan, who had been 
 watching. 
 
 Bob hit the other end of the pole a mighty whack 
 with his ax. The astonished jay, projected straight 
 upward by the shock, gave a startled squawk and 
 cut a hole through the air for the tall timber. Strat- 
 ton and Nolan went into convulsions of laughter. 
 
 " Get at it ! " cried the cookee, as though setting a 
 pack of dogs on their prey. 
 
 The men ate, perched in various attitudes and 
 places. Thorpe found it difficult to keep warm. The 
 violent exercise had heated him through, and now 
 the north country cold penetrated to his bones. He 
 huddled close to the fire, and drank hot tea, but it 
 did not do him very much good. In his secret mind 
 he resolved to buy one of the blanket mackinaws that 
 very evening. He began to see that the costumes of 
 each country have their origin in practicality 
 
 That evening he picked out one of the best. As he 
 was about to inquire the price, Radway drew the van 
 book toward him, inquiring, 
 
 " Let's see ; what's the name ? " 
 
 In an instant Thorpe was charged on the book with 
 three dollars and a half, although his work that day 
 had earned him less than a dollar. On his way back 
 to the men's shanty he could not help thinking how 
 easy it would be for him to leave the next morning
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 47 
 
 two dollars and a half ahead. He wondered if this 
 method of procedure obtained in all the camps. 
 
 The newcomer's first day of hard work had tired 
 him completely. He was ready for nothing so much 
 as his bunk. But he had forgotten that it was Satur- 
 day night. His status was still to assure. 
 
 They began with a few mild tricks. Shuffle the 
 Brogan followed Hot Back. Thorpe took all of it 
 good-naturedly. Finally a tall individual with a thin 
 white face, a reptilian forehead, reddish hair, and long 
 baboon arms, suggested tossing in a blanket. Thorpe 
 looked at the low ceiling, and declined. 
 
 " I'm with the game as long as you say, boys," said 
 he, " and I'll have as much fun as anybody, but that's 
 going too far for a tired man." 
 
 The reptilian gentleman let out a string of oaths 
 whose meaning might be translated, " We'll see about 
 that ! " 
 
 Thorpe was a good boxer, but he knew by now the 
 lumber jack's method of fighting, anything to 
 hurt the other fellow. And in a genuine old-fashioned 
 knock-down-and-drag-out rough-and-tumble your 
 woodsman is about the toughest customer to handle 
 you will Ce likely to meet. He is brought up on fight- 
 ing. Nothing pleases him better than to get drunk 
 and, with a few companions, to embark on an earnest 
 effort to " clean out " a rival town. And he will accept 
 cheerfully punishment enough to kill three ordinary 
 men. It takes one of his kind really to hurt him. 
 
 Thorpe, at the first hostile movement, sprang back 
 to the door, seized one of the three-foot billets of hard- 
 wood intended for the stove, and faced his opponents. 
 
 " I don't know which of you boys is coming first," 
 said he quietly, " but he's going to get it good and 
 plenty." ], 
 
 If the affair had been serious, these men would 
 never have recoiled before the mere danger of a stick
 
 48 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 of hardwood. The American woodsman is afraid of 
 nothing human. But this was a good-natured bit of 
 foolery, a test of nerve, and there was no object in 
 getting a broken head for that. The reptilian gentle- 
 man alone grumbled at the abandonment of the at- 
 tack, mumbling something profane. 
 
 " If you hanker for trouble so much," drawled the 
 unexpected voice of old Jackson from the corner, 
 " mebbe you could put on th' gloves." 
 
 The idea was acclaimed. Somebody tossed out a 
 dirty torn old set of buckskin boxing gloves. 
 
 The rest was farce. Thorpe was built on the true 
 athletic lines, broad, straight shoulders, narrow 
 flanks, long, clean, smooth muscles. He possessed, 
 besides, that hereditary toughness and bulk which no 
 gymnasium training will ever quite supply. The 
 other man, while powerful and ugly in his rushes, was 
 clumsy and did not use his head. Thorpe planted his 
 hard straight blows at will. In this game he was as 
 manifestly superior as his opponent would probably 
 have been had the rules permitted kicking, gouging, 
 and wrestling. Finally he saw his opening and let 
 out with a swinging pivot blow. The ol ' picked 
 himself out of a corner, and drew off ^. gloves. 
 Thorpe's status was assured. 
 
 A Frenchman took down his fiddle and began to 
 squeak. In the course of the dance old Jackson and 
 old Heath found themselves together, smoking their 
 pipes of Peerless. 
 
 " The young feller's all right," observed Heath ; 
 " he cuffed Ben up to a peak all right." 
 
 " Went down like a peck of wet fish-nets," repjied 
 Jackson tranquilly.
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 /N the office shanty one evening about a week later, 
 Radway and his sealer happened to be talking 
 over the situation. The sealer, whose name was 
 Dyer, slouched back in the shadow, watching his 
 great honest superior as a crafty, dainty cat might 
 watch the blunderings of a St. Bernard. When he 
 spoke, it was with a mockery so subtle as quite to 
 escape the perceptions of the lumberman. Dyer had 
 a precise little black mustache whose ends he was con- 
 stantly twisting into points, black eyebrows, and long 
 effeminate black lashes. You would have expected 
 his dress in the city to be just a trifle flashy, not 
 enough so to be loud, but sinning as to the trifles of 
 good taste. The two men conversed in short elliptical 
 sentences, using many technical terms. 
 
 " That ' seventeen ' white pine is going to under- 
 run," said Dyer. " It won't skid over three hundred 
 thousand." 
 
 " It's small stuff," agreed Radway, " and so much 
 the worse for us ; but the Company'll stand in on it 
 because small stuff like that always over-runs on the 
 mill-cut." 
 
 The sealer nodded comprehension. 
 
 " When you going to dray-haul that Norway across 
 Pike Lake?" 
 
 " To-morrow. She's springy, but the books say five 
 inches of ice will hold a team, and there's more than 
 that. How much are we putting in a day, now ? " 
 
 " About forty thousand." 
 
 49
 
 50 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Radway fell silent. 
 
 " That's mighty little for such a crew," he observed 
 at last, doubtfully. 
 
 " I always said you were too easy with them. You 
 got to drive them more." 
 
 , " Well, it's a rough country," apologized Radway, 
 f trying, as was his custom, to find excuses for the other 
 party as soon as he was agreed with in his blame, 
 I " there's any amount of potholes ; and, then, we've 
 had so much snow the ground ain't really froze under- 
 neath. It gets pretty soft in some of them swamps. 
 Can't figure on putting up as much in this country 
 as we used to down on the Muskegon." 
 
 The sealer smiled a thin smile all to himself behind 
 the stove. Big John Radway depended so much on 
 the moral effect of approval or disapproval by those 
 with whom he lived. It amused Dyer to withhold the 
 timely word, so leaving the jobber to flounder be- 
 tween his easy nature and his sense of what should 
 be done. 
 
 Dyer knew perfectly well that the work was behind, 
 and he knew the reason. For some time the men 
 had been relaxing their efforts. They had worked 
 honestly enough, but a certain snap and vim had 
 lacked. This was because Radway had been too easy 
 on them. 
 
 Your true lumber-jack adores of all things in crea- 
 tion a man whom he feels to be stronger than him- 
 self. If his employer is big enough to drive him, then 
 he is willing to be driven to the last ounce of his 
 strength. But once he gets the notion that his 
 " boss " is afraid of, or for, him or his feelings or his 
 health, he loses interest in working for that man. So 
 a little effort to lighten or expedite his work, a little 
 leniency in excusing the dilatory finishing of a job, 
 a little easing-up under stress of weather, are taken 
 as so many indications of a desire to conciliate. And
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 51 
 
 conciliation means weakness every time. Your lum- 
 ber-jack likes to be met front to front, one strong 
 man to another. As you value your authority, the 
 love of your men, and the completion of your work, 
 keep a bluff brow and an unbending singleness of 
 purpose. 
 
 Radway's peculiar temperament rendered htm 
 liable to just this mistake. It was so much easier for 
 him to do the thing himself than to be harsh to the 
 point of forcing another to it, that he was inclined to 
 take the line of least resistance when it came to a 
 question of even ordinary diligence. He sought often 
 in his own mind excuses for dereliction in favor of a 
 man who would not have dreamed of seeking them 
 for himself. A good many people would call this 
 kindness of heart. Perhaps it was ; the question is a 
 little puzzling. But the facts were as stated. 
 
 Thorpe had already commented on the feeling 
 among the men, though, owing to his inexperience, 
 he was not able to estimate its full value. The men 
 were inclined to a semi-apologetic air when they 
 spoke of their connection with the camp. Instead of 
 being honored as one of a series of jobs, this seemed 
 to be considered as merely a temporary halting-place 
 in which they took no pride, and from which they 
 looked forward in anticipation or back in memory to 
 better things. 
 
 " Old Shearer, he's the bully boy," said Bob Strat- 
 ton. " I remember when he was foreman for M. & 
 D. at Camp O. Say, we did hustle them saw-logs in ! 
 I should rise to remark! Out in th' woods by first 
 streak o' day. I recall one mornin' she was pretty 
 cold, an' the boys grumbled some about turnin' out. 
 ' Cold,' says Tim, ' you sons of guns ! You got your 
 ch'ice. It may be too cold for you in the woods, but 
 it's a damm sight too hot fer you in hell, an' you're 
 going to one or the other 1 ' And he meant it too,
 
 52 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Them was great days ! Forty million a year, and not 
 a hitch." 
 
 One man said nothing in the general discussion. 
 It was his first winter in the woods, and plainly in 
 the eyes of the veterans this experience did not count. 
 It was a faute de mieux, in which one would give an 
 honest day's work, and no more. 
 
 As has been hinted, even the inexperienced new- 
 comer noticed the lack of enthusiasm, of unity. Had 
 he known the loyalty, devotion, and adoration that a 
 thoroughly competent man wins from his " hands," 
 the state of affairs would have seemed even more sur- 
 prising. The lumber-jack will work sixteen, eigh- 
 teen hours a day, sometimes up to the waist in water 
 full of floating ice ; sleep wet on the ground by a lit- 
 tle fire ; and then next morning will spring to work 
 at daylight with an " Oh, no, not tired ; just a little 
 itiff, sir! " in cheerful reply to his master's inquiry, 
 
 for the right man ! Only it must be a strong man, 
 
 with the strength of the wilderness in his eye. 
 The next morning Radway transferred Molly and 
 
 Jenny, with little Fabian Laveque and two of the 
 younger men, to Pike Lake. There, earlier in the sea- 
 son, a number of pines had been felled out on the 
 ice, cut in logs, and left in expectation of ice thick 
 enough to bear the travoy " dray." Owing to the 
 fact that the shores of Pike Lake were extremely pre- 
 cipitous, it had been impossible to travoy the logs up 
 over the hill. 
 
 Radway had sounded carefully the thickness of the 
 ice with an ax. Although the weather had of late 
 been sufficiently cold for the time of year, the snow, 
 as often happens, had fallen before the temperature. 
 Under the warm white blanket, the actual freezing 
 had been slight. However, there seemed to be at least 
 eight inches of clear ice, which would suffice. 
 
 Some of the logs in question were found to be half
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 53 
 
 imbedded in the ice. It became necessary first of all 
 to free them. Young Henrys cut a strong bar six or 
 eight feet long, while Pat McGuire chopped a hole 
 alongside the log. Then one end of the bar was thrust 
 into the hole, the logging chain fastened to the other ; 
 and, behold, a monster lever, whose fulcrum was the 
 ice and whose power was applied by Molly, hitched 
 to the end of the chain. In this simple manner a 
 task was accomplished in five minutes which would 
 have taken a dozen men an hour. When the log had 
 been cat-a-cornered from its bed, the chain was fas- 
 tened around one end by means of the ever-useful 
 steel swamp-hook, and it was yanked across the dray. 
 Then the travoy took its careful way across the ice 
 to where a dip in the shore gave access to a skidway. 
 
 Four logs had thus been safely hauled. The fifth 
 was on its journey across the lake. Suddenly without 
 warning, and with scarcely a sound, both horses sank 
 through the ice, which bubbled up around them and 
 over their backs in irregular rotted pieces. Little 
 Fabian Laveque shouted, and jumped down from his 
 log. Pat McGuire and young Henrys came running. 
 
 The horses had broken through an air-hole, about 
 which the ice was strong. Fabian had already seized 
 Molly by the bit, and was holding her head easily 
 above water. 
 
 " Kitch Jenny by dat he't ! " he cried to Pat. 
 
 Thus the two men, without exertion, sustained the 
 noses of the team above the surface. The position 
 demanded absolutely no haste, for it could have been 
 maintained for a good half hour. Molly and Jenny, 
 their soft eyes full of the intelligence of the situation, 
 rested easily in full confidence. But Pat and Henrys, 
 new to this sort of emergency, were badly frightened 
 and excited. To them the affair had come to a dead- 
 lock. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! " cried Pat, clinging desperately to
 
 54 ^HE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Jenny's headpiece. " What will we'z be doin' ? We 
 can't niver haul them two horses on the ice." 
 
 " Tak' de log-chain," said Fabian to Henrys, " an' 
 tie him around de nee' of Jenny." 
 
 Henrys, after much difficulty and nervous fumbling, 
 managed to loosen the swamp-hook ; and after much 
 more difficulty and nervous fumbling succeeded in 
 making it fast about the gray mare's neck. Fabian 
 intended with this to choke the animal to that pe- 
 culiar state when she would float like a balloon on the 
 water, and two men could with ease draw her over 
 the edge of the ice. Then the unexpected happened. 
 
 The instant Henrys had passed the end of the chain 
 through the knot, Pat, possessed by some Hibernian 
 notion that now all was fast, let go of the bit. Jenny's 
 head at once went under, and the end of the logging 
 chain glided over the ice and fell plump in the hole. 
 
 Immediately all was confusion. Jenny kicked and 
 struggled, churning the water, throwing it about, 
 kicking out in every direction. Once a horse's head 
 dips strongly, the game is over. No animal drowns 
 more quickly. The two young boys scrambled away, 
 and French oaths could not induce them to approach. 
 Molly, still upheld by Fabian, looked at him piteously 
 with her strange intelligent eyes, holding herself mo- 
 tionless and rigid with complete confidence in this 
 master who had never failed her before. Fabian dug 
 his heels into the ice, but could not hang on. The 
 drowning horse was more than a dead weight. Pres- 
 ently it became a question of letting go or being 
 dragged into the lake on top of the animals. With a 
 sob the little Frenchman relinquished his hold. The 
 water seemed slowly to rise and over-film the troubled 
 look of pleading in Molly's eyes. 
 
 " Assassins ! " hissed Laveque at the two unfortu- 
 nate youths. That was all. 
 
 When the surface of the waters had again mirrored
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 55 
 
 the clouds, they hauled the carcasses out on the ice 
 and stripped the harness. Then they rolled the log 
 from the dray, piled the tools on it, and took their way 
 to camp. In the blue of the winter's sky was a single 
 speck. 
 
 The speck grew. Soon it swooped. With a hoarse 
 CToak it lit on the snow at a wary distance, and began 
 to strut back and forth. Presently, its suspicions at 
 rest, the raven advanced, and with eager beak began 
 its dreadful meal. By this time another, which had 
 seen the first one's swoop, was in view through the 
 ether; then another; then another. In an hour the 
 brotherhood of ravens, thus telegraphically notified, 
 was at feast.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 JTHABIAN LAVEQUE elaborated the details of 
 rj the catastrophe with volubility. 
 Jt "Hee's not fonny dat she bre'ks t'rough," he 
 
 said. " I 'ave see dem bre'k t'rough two, t'ree tarn 
 in de day, but nevaire dat she get drown I Wen dose 
 dam-fool can't t'ink wit' hees haid sacrt Dieu! eet 
 is so easy, to chok' dat cheval she make me cry 
 wit' de eye! " 
 
 " I suppose it was a good deal my fault," com- 
 mented Radway, doubtfully shaking his head, after 
 Laveque had left the office. " I ought to have been 
 surer about the ice." 
 
 " Eight inches is a little light, with so much snow 
 atop," remarked the sealer carelessly. 
 
 By virtue of that same careless remark, however, 
 Radway was so confirmed in his belief as to his own 
 culpability that he quite overlooked Fabian's just 
 contention that the mere thinness of the ice was 
 in reality no excuse for the losing of the horses. So 
 Pat and Henrys were not discharged were not in- 
 structed to " get their time." Fabian Laveque 
 promptly demanded his. 
 
 " Sacrt bleu! " said he to old Jackson. " I no work 
 wid dat dam-fool dat no t'ink wit' hees haid." 
 
 This deprived the camp at once of a teamster and a 
 team. When you reflect that one pair of horses takes 
 care of the exertions of a crew of sawyers, several 
 swampers, and three or four cant-hook men, you will 
 readily see what a serious derangement their loss 
 would cause. And besides, the animals themselves 
 
 56
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 57 
 
 are difficult to replace. They are big strong beasts, 
 selected for their power, staying qualities, and intelli- 
 gence, worth anywhere from three to six hundred dol- 
 lars a pair. They must be shipped in from a distance. 
 And, finally, they require a very careful and patient 
 training before they are of value in co-operating with 
 the nicely adjusted efforts necessary to place the saw- 
 log where it belongs. Ready-trained horses are never 
 for sale during the season. 
 
 Radway did his best. He took three days to search 
 out a big team of farm horses. Then it became neces- 
 sary to find a driver. After some deliberation he de- 
 cided to advance Bob Stratton to the post, that 
 " decker " having had more or less experience the 
 year before. Erickson, the Swede, while not a star 
 cant-hook man, was nevertheless sure and reliable. 
 Radway placed him in Stratton's place. But now he 
 must find a swamper. He remembered Thorpe. 
 
 So the young man received his first promotion 
 toward the ranks of skilled labor. He gained at last 
 a field of application for the accuracy he had so in- 
 telligently acquired while road-making, for now a 
 false stroke marred a saw-log; and besides, what was 
 more to his taste, he found himself near the actual 
 scene of operation, at the front, as it were. He had 
 under his very eyes the process as far as it had been 
 carried. 
 
 In his experience here he made use of the same 
 searching analytical observation that had so quickly 
 taught him the secret of the ax-swing. He knew that 
 each of the things he saw, no matter how trivial, was 
 either premeditated or the product of chance. If pre- 
 meditated, he tried to find out its reason for being. 
 If fortuitous, he wished to know the fact, and always 
 attempted to figure out the possibility of its elimina- 
 tion. 
 
 So he learned why and when the sawyers threw a
 
 $8 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 tree up or down hill ; how much small standing tim- 
 ber they tried to fell it through; what consideration 
 held for the cutting of different lengths of log ; how 
 the timber was skilfully decked on the skids in such 
 a manner that the pile should not bulge and fall, and 
 ' so that the sealer could easily determine the opposite 
 ends of the same log; in short, a thousand and one 
 little details which ordinarily a man learns only as the 
 exigencies arise to call in experience. Here, too, he 
 first realized he was in the firing line. 
 
 Thorpe had assigned him as bunk mate the young 
 fellow who assisted Tom Broadhead in the felling. 
 Henry Paul was a fresh-complexioned, clear-eyed, 
 quick-mannered young fellow with an air of steady 
 responsibility about him. He came from the southern 
 part of the State, where, during the summer, he 
 worked on a little homestead farm of his own. After 
 a few days he told Thorpe that he was married, and 
 after a few days more he showed his bunk mate the 
 photograph of a sweet-faced young woman who 
 looked trustingly out of the picture. 
 
 " She's waitin' down there for me, and it ain't so 
 very long till spring," said Paul wistfully. " She's 
 the best little woman a man ever had, and there ain't 
 nothin' too good for her, chummy ! " 
 
 Thorpe, soul-sick after his recent experiences with 
 the charity of the world, discovered a real pleasure in 
 this fresh, clear passion. As he contemplated the 
 abounding health, the upright carriage, the sparkling, 
 bubbling spirits of the young woodsman, he could 
 easily imagine the young girl and the young happi- 
 ness, too big for a little backwoods farm. 
 
 Three days after the newcomer had started in at the 
 swamping, Paul, during their early morning walk 
 from camp to the scene of their operations, confided 
 in him further. 
 
 " Got another letter, chummy," said he, " come in
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 59 
 
 yesterday. She tells me," he hesitated with a blush, 
 and then a happy laugh, " that they ain't going to be 
 only two of us at the farm next year." 
 
 " You mean ! " queried Thorpe. 
 
 " Yes," laughed Paul, " and if it's a girl she gets 
 named after her mother, you bet." 
 
 The men separated. In a moment Thorpe found 
 himself waist-deep in the pitchy aromatic top of an old 
 bull-sap, clipping away at the projecting branches. 
 After a time he heard Paul's gay halloo. 
 
 " Timber! " came the cry, and then the swish-sh-sh, 
 crash! of the tree's fall. 
 
 Thorpe knew that now either Hank or Tom must 
 be climbing with the long measuring pole along the 
 prostrate trunk, marking by means of shallow ax-clips 
 where the saw was to divide the logs. Then Torn 
 shouted something unintelligible. The other men 
 seemed to understand, however, for they dropped 
 their work and ran hastily in the direction of the voice. 
 Thorpe, after a moment's indecision, did the same. 
 He arrived to find a group about a prostrate man. 
 The man was Paul. 
 
 Two of the older woodsmen, kneeling, were con- 
 ducting coolly a hasty examination. At the front 
 every man is more or less of a surgeon. 
 
 " Is he hurt badly? " asked Thorpe ; " what is it? " 
 
 " He's dead," answered one of the other men 
 soberly. 
 
 With the skill of ghastly practice some of them wove 
 a litter on which the body was placed. The pathetic 
 little procession moved in the solemn, inscrutable 
 forest. 
 
 When the tree had fallen it had crashed through 
 the top of another, leaving suspended in the branches 
 of the latter a long heavy limb. A slight breeze dis- 
 lodged it. Henry Paul was impaled as by a javelin. 
 
 This is the chief of the many perils of the woods.
 
 60 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Like crouching pumas the instruments of a man's 
 destruction poise on the spring, sometimes for days. 
 Then swiftly, silently, the leap is made. It is a danger 
 unavoidable, terrible, ever-present. Thorpe was des- 
 tined in time to see men crushed and mangled in ? 
 hundred ingenious ways by the saw log, knocked into 
 space and a violent death by the butts of trees, 
 ground to powder in the mill of a jam, but never 
 would he be more deeply impressed than by this 
 ruthless silent taking of a life. The forces of nature 
 are so tame, so simple, so obedient ; and in the next 
 instant so absolutely beyond human control or direc- 
 tion, so whirlingly contemptuous of puny human ef- 
 fort, that in time the wilderness shrouds itself to our 
 eyes in the same impenetrable mystery as the sea. 
 
 That evening the camp was unusually quiet. Tal- 
 lier let his fiddle hang. After supper Thorpe was ap- 
 proached by Purdy, the reptilian red-head with whom 
 he had had the row some evenings before. 
 
 "You in, chummy?" he asked in a quiet voice. 
 " It's a five apiece for Hank's woman." 
 
 " Yes," said Thorpe. 
 
 The men were earning from twenty to thirty dollars 
 a month. They had, most of them, never seen Hank 
 Paul before this autumn. He had not, mainly because 
 of his modest disposition, enjoyed any extraordinary 
 degree of popularity. Yet these strangers cheerfully, 
 as a matter of course, gave up the proceeds of a week's 
 hard work, and that without expecting the slightest 
 personal credit. The money was sent " from tht 
 boys." Thorpe later read a heart-broken letter of 
 thanks to the unknown benefactors. It touched him 
 deeply, and he suspected the other men of the same 
 emotions, but by that time they had regained the in- 
 dependent, self-contained poise of the frontiersman. 
 They read it with unmoved faces, and tossed it aside 
 with a more than ordinarily rough joke or oath.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 61 
 
 Thorpe understood their reticence. It was a part of 
 his own nature. He felt more than ever akin to these 
 men. 
 
 As swamper he had more or less to do with a cant- 
 hook in helping the teamsters roll the end of the log 
 on the little " dray." He soon caught the knack. 
 Towards Christmas he had become a fairly efficient 
 cant-hook man, and was helping roll the great sticks 
 of timber up the slanting skids. Thus always intelli- 
 gence counts, especially that rare intelligence which 
 resolves into the analytical and the minutely observ- 
 ing. 
 
 On Sundays Thorpe fell into the habit of accom- 
 panying old Jackson Hines on his hunting expedi- 
 tions. The ancient had been raised in the woods. He 
 seemed to know by instinct the haunts and habits of 
 all the wild animals, just as he seemed to know by 
 instinct when one of his horses was likely to be trou- 
 bled by the colic. His woodcraft was really remark- 
 able. 
 
 So the two would stand for hours in the early morn- 
 ing and late evening waiting for deer on the edges 
 of the swamps. They haunted the runways during 
 the middle of the day. On soft moccasined feet they 
 stole about in the evening with a bull's-eye lantern 
 fastened on the head, of one of them for a " jack." 
 Several times they surprised the wolves, and shone 
 the animals' eyes like the scattered embers of a camp 
 fire. 
 
 Thorpe learned to shoot at a deer's shoulders rather 
 than his heart, how to tell when the animal had sus- 
 tained a mortal hurt from the way it leaped and the 
 white of its tail. He even made progress in the dif- 
 ficult art of still hunting, where the man matches his 
 senses against those of the creatures of the forest, 
 and sometimes wins. He soon knew better than to 
 cut the animal's throat, and learned from Hines that
 
 62 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 a single stab at a certain point of the chest was much 
 better for the purposes of bleeding. And, what is 
 more, he learned not to over-shoot down hill. 
 
 Besides these things Jackson taught him many 
 other, minor, details of woodcraft. Soon the young 
 man could interpret the thousands of signs, so insig- 
 nificant in appearance and so important in reality, 
 which tell the history of the woods. He acquired the 
 knack of winter fishing. 
 
 These Sundays were perhaps the most nearly per- 
 fect of any of the days of that winter. In them the 
 young man drew more directly face to face with the 
 wilderness. He called a truce with the enemy ; and 
 in return that great inscrutable power poured into his 
 heart a portion of her grandeur. His ambition grew ; 
 and, as always with him, his determination became 
 the greater and the more secret. In proportion as his 
 ideas increased, he took greater pains to shut them in 
 from expression. For failure in great things would 
 bring keener disappointment than failure in little. 
 
 He was getting just the experience and the knowl- 
 edge he needed ; but that was about all. His wages 
 were twenty-five dollars a month, which his van bill 
 would reduce to the double eagle. At the end of the 
 winter he would have but a little over a hundred 
 dollars to show for his season's work, and this could 
 mean at most only fifty dollars for Helen. But the 
 future was his. He saw now more plainly what he 
 had dimly perceived before, that for the man who 
 buys timber, and logs it well, a sure future is waiting. 
 And in this camp he was beginning to learn from 
 failure the conditions of success.
 
 Chapter IX 
 
 rHEY finished cutting on section seventeen 
 during Thorpe's second week. It became nec- 
 essary to begin on section fourteen, which lay 
 two miles to the east. In that direction the character 
 of the country changed somewhat. 
 
 The pine there grew thick on isolated " islands " of 
 not more than an acre or so in extent, little knolls 
 rising from the level of a marsh. In ordinary condi- 
 tions nothing would have been easier than to have 
 ploughed roads across the frozen surface of this 
 marsh. The peculiar state of the weather interposed 
 tremendous difficulties. 
 
 The early part of autumn had been characterized by 
 a heavy snow-fall immediately after a series of mild 
 days. A warm blanket of some thickness thus over- 
 laid the earth, effectually preventing the freezing 
 which subsequent cold weather would have caused. 
 All the season Radway had contended with this con- 
 dition. Even in the woods, muddy swamp and 
 spring-holes caused endless difficulty and necessitated 
 a great deal of " corduroying," or the laying of poles 
 side by side to form an artificial bottom. Here in the 
 open some six inches of water and unlimited mud 
 awaited the first horse that should break through the 
 layer of snow and thin ice. Between each pair of 
 islands a road had to be " tramped." 
 
 Thorpe and the rest were put at this disagreeable 
 job. All day long they had to walk mechanically back 
 and forth on diagonals between the marks set by Rad- 
 
 63
 
 64 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 way with his snowshoes. Early in the morning thcif 
 feet were wet by icy water, for even the light weight 
 of a man sometimes broke the frozen skin of the 
 marsh. By night a road of trampled snow, of greater, 
 or less length, was marked out across the expanse.1 
 Thus the blanket was thrown back from the warm 
 earth, and thus the cold was given a chance at the 
 water beneath. In a day or so the road would bear 
 a horse. A bridge of ice had been artificially con- 
 structed, on either side of which lay unsounded depths. 
 This road was indicated by a row of firs stuck in the 
 snow on either side. 
 
 It was very cold. All day long the restless wind 
 swept across the shivering surface of the plains, and 
 tore around the corners of the islands. The big woods 
 are as good as an overcoat. The overcoat had been 
 taken away. 
 
 When the lunch-sleigh arrived, the men huddled 
 shivering in the lee of one of the knolls, and tried to 
 eat with benumbed fingers before a fire that was but 
 a mockery. Often it was nearly dark before their 
 work had warmed them again. All of the skidways 
 had to be placed on the edges of the islands them- 
 selves, and the logs had to be travoyed over the steep 
 little knolls. A single misstep out on to the plain 
 meant a mired horse. Three times heavy snows ob- 
 literated the roads, so that they had to be ploughed 
 out before the men could go to work again. It was 
 a struggle. 
 
 Radway was evidently worried. He often paused 
 before a gang to inquire how they were " making it." 
 He seemed afraid they might wish to quit, which was 
 indeed the case, but he should never have taken be- 
 fore them any attitude but that of absolute confidence 
 in their intentions. His anxiety was natural, however, 
 i He real zed the absolute necessity of skidding and 
 hauling this job before the heavy choking snows of
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 65 
 
 the latter part of January should make it impossible 
 to keep the roads open. So insistent was this necessity 
 that he had seized the first respite in the phenomenal 
 snow-fall of the early autumn to begin work. The 
 cutting in the woods could wait. 
 
 Left to themselves, orobably the men would never 
 have dreamed of objecting to whatever privations the 
 task carried with it. Radway's anxiety for their com- 
 fort, however, caused them finally to imagine that 
 perhaps they might have some just grounds for com- 
 plaint after all. That is a great trait of the lumber 
 jack. 
 
 But Dyer, the sealer, finally caused the outbreak. 
 Dyer was an efficient enough man in his way, but he 
 loved his own ease. His habit was to stay in his 
 bunk of mornings until well after daylight. To this 
 there could be no objection except on the part of 
 the cook, who was supposed to attend to his business 
 himself for the sealer was active in his work, when 
 once he began it, and could keep up with the skid- 
 ding. B^t now he displayed a strong antipathy to 
 the north wind on the plains. Of course he could not 
 very well shirk the work entirely, but he did a good 
 deal of talking on the very cold mornings. 
 
 " I don't pose for no tough son-of-a-gun," said he 
 to Radway, " and I've got some respect for my ears 
 and feet. She'll warm up a little by to-morrow, and 
 perhaps the wind'll die. I can catch up on you fel- 
 lows by hustling a little, so I guess I'll stay in and 
 work on the books to-day." 
 
 " All right," Radway assented, a little doubtfully. 
 
 This happened perhaps two days out of the week. 
 Finally Dyer hung out a thermometer, which he used 
 to consult. The men saw it, and consulted it too. At 
 once they felt much colder. 
 
 " She was stan' ten below," spvttered Baptiste Tel- 
 lier, the Frenchman who played the fiddle. " He
 
 66 THE BLA/ED TRAIL 
 
 freeze t'rou to hees eenside. Dat is too cole for mak 
 de work." 
 
 "Them plains is sure a holy fright," assented 
 Purdy. 
 
 " Th' old man knows it himself," agreed big Nolan ; 
 " did you see him rammin' around yesterday askin' 
 us if we found her too cold ? He knows damn well he 
 ought not to keep a man out that sort o' weather." 
 
 " You'd shiver like a dog in a briar path on a warm 
 day in July," said Jackson Hines contemptuously. 
 
 " Shut up! " said they. " You're barn-boss. You 
 don't have to be out in th' cold." 
 
 This was true. So Jackson's intervention went for 
 a little worse than nothing. 
 
 " It ain't lak' he has nuttin' besides," went on Bap- 
 tiste. " He can mak' de cut in de meedle of de fores'." 
 
 " That's right," agreed Bob Stratton, " they's the 
 west half of eight ain't been cut yet." 
 
 So they sent a delegation to Radway. Big Nolan 
 was the spokesman. 
 
 " Boss," said he bluntly, " she's too cold to work 
 on them plains to-day. She's the coldest day we had." 
 
 Radway was too old a hand at the business to make 
 any promises on the spot. 
 
 " I'll see, boys," said he. 
 
 When the breakfast was over the crew were set to 
 making skidways and travoy roads on eight. This 
 was a precedent. In time the work on the plains was 
 grumblingly done in any weather. However, as to 
 this Radway proved firm enough. He was a good 
 fighter when he knew he was being imposed on. A 
 man could never cheat or defy him openly without 
 collecting a little war that left him surprised at the 
 jobber's belligerency. The doubtful cases, those on 
 the subtle line of indecision, found him weak. He 
 could be so easily persuaded that he was in the wrong. 
 At times it even seemed that he was anxious to be
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 67 
 
 proved at fault, so eager was he to catch fairly the 
 justice of the other man's attitude. He held his men 
 inexorably and firmly to their work on the indispu- 
 tably comfortable days; but gave in often when an 
 able-bodied woodsman should have seen in the 
 weather no inconvenience, even. As the days slipped 
 by, however, he tightened the reins. Christmas was 
 approaching. An easy mathematical computation re- 
 duced the question of completing his contract with 
 Morrison & Daly to a certain weekly quota. In fact 
 he was surprised at the size of it. He would have to 
 work diligently and steadily during the rest of the 
 winter. 
 
 Having thus a definite task to accomplish in a defi- 
 nite number of days, Radway grew to be more of a 
 taskmaster. His anxiety as to the completion of the 
 work overlaid his morbidly sympathetic human in- 
 terest. Thus he regained to a small degree the respect 
 of his men. Then he lost it again. 
 
 One morning he came in from a talk with the sup- 
 ply-teamster, and woke Dyer, who was not yet up. 
 
 " I'm going down home for two or three weeks," 
 he announced to Dyer, " you know my address. 
 You'll have to take charge, and I guess you'd better 
 let the scaling go. We can get the tally at the bank- 
 ing grounds when we begin to haul. Now we ain't 
 got all the time there is, so you want to keep the boys 
 at it pretty well." 
 
 Dyer twisted the little points of his mustache. " All 
 right, sir," said he with his smile so inscrutably inso- 
 lent that Radway never saw the insolence at all. He 
 thought this a poor year for a man in Radway's posi- 
 tion to spend Christmas with his family, but it was 
 none of his business. 
 
 " Do as much as you can in the marsh, Dyer," went 
 on the jobber. " I don't believe ifc's really necessary 
 to lay off any more there on account of the weather.
 
 68 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 We've simply got to get that job in before the big 
 snows." 
 
 " All right, sir," repeated Dyer. 
 
 The sealer did what he considered his duty. All 
 day long he tramped back and forth from one gang 
 of men to the other, keeping a sharp eye on the details 
 of the work. His practical experience was sufficient 
 to solve readily such problems of broken tackle, ex- 
 tra expedients, or facility which the days brought 
 forth. The fact that in him was vested the power to 
 discharge kept the men at work. 
 
 Dyer was in the habit of starting for the marsh an 
 hour or so after sunrise. The crew, of course, were 
 at work by daylight. Dyer heard them often through 
 his doze, just as he heard the chore-boy come in to 
 build the fire and fill the water pail afresh. After a 
 time the fire, built of kerosene and pitchy jack pine, 
 would get so hot that in self-defense he would arise 
 and dress. Then he would breakfast leisurely. 
 
 Thus he incurred the enmity of the cook and 
 cookee. Those individuals have to prepare food three 
 times a day for a half hundred heavy eaters ; besides 
 which, on sleigh-haul, they are supposed to serve a 
 breakfast at three o'clock for the loaders and a variety 
 of lunches up to midnight for the sprinkler men. As 
 a consequence, they resent infractions of the little sys- 
 tem they may have been able to introduce. 
 
 Now the business of a foreman is to be up as soon 
 as anybody. He does none of the work himself, but 
 he must see that somebody else does it, and does it 
 well. For this he needs actual experience at the work 
 itself, but above all zeal and constant presence. He 
 must know how a thing ought to be done, and he 
 must be on hand unexpectedly to see how its accom- 
 plishment is progressing. Dyer should have been out 
 of bed at first horn-blow. 
 
 One morning he slept until nearly ten o'clock. It
 
 69 
 
 was inexplicable! He hurried from his bunk, made 
 a hasty toilet, and started for the dining-room to get 
 some sort of a lunch to do him until dinner time. As 
 he stepped from the door of the office he caught sight 
 of two men hurrying from the cook camp to the men's 
 camp. He thought he heard the hum of conversation 
 in the latter building. The cookee set hot coffee be- 
 fore him. For the rest, he took what he could find 
 cold on the table. 
 
 On an inverted cracker box the cook sat reading an 
 old copy of the Police Gazette. Various fifty-pound 
 lard tins were bubbling and steaming on the range. 
 The cookee divided his time between them and the 
 task of sticking on the log walls pleasing patterns 
 made of illustrations from cheap papers and the gaudy 
 labels of canned goods. Dyer sat down, feeling, for 
 the first time, a little guilty. This was not because 
 of a sense of a dereliction in duty, but because he 
 feared the strong man's contempt for inefficiency. 
 
 " I sort of pounded my ear a little long this morn- 
 ing," he remarked with an unwonted air of bonhomie. 
 
 The cook creased his paper with one hand and went 
 on reading; the little action indicating at the same 
 time that he had heard, but intended to vouchsafe no 
 attention. The cookee continued his occupations. 
 
 " I suppose the men got out to the marsh on time," 
 suggested Dyer, still easily. 
 
 The cook laid aside his paper and looked the sealer 
 in the eye. 
 
 " You're the foreman ; I'm the cook," said he. 
 " You ought to know." 
 
 The cookee had paused, the paste brush in his hand. 
 
 Dyer was no weakling. The problem presenting, 
 he rose to the emergency. Without another word he 
 pushed back his coffee cup and crossed the narrow 
 open passage to the men's camp. 
 
 When he opened the door a silence fell. He could
 
 70 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 see dimly that the room was full of lounging and 
 smoking lumbermen. As a matter of fact, not a man 
 had stirred out that morning. This was more for the 
 sake of giving Dyer a lesson than of actually shirking 
 the work, for a lumber-jack is honest in giving his 
 time when it is paid for. 
 
 "How's this, men!" cried Dyer sharply; "why 
 aren't you out on the marsh? " 
 
 No one answered for a minute. Then Baptiste: 
 
 " He mak' too tam cole for de marsh. Meester 
 Radway he spik dat we kip off dat marsh w'en he 
 mak' cole." 
 
 Dyer knew that the precedent was indisputable. 
 
 "Why didn't you cut on eight then?" he asked, 
 still in peremptory tones. 
 
 " Didn't have no one to show us where to begin," 
 drawled a voice in the corner. 
 
 Dyer turned sharp on his heel and went out. 
 
 " Sore as a boil, ain't he! " commented old Jackson 
 Hines with a chuckle. 
 
 In the cook camp Dyer was saying to the cook, 
 " Well, anyway, we'll have dinner early and get a 
 good start for this afternoon." 
 
 The cook again laid down his paper. " I'm tend- 
 ing to this job of cook," said he, " and I'm getting 
 the meals on time. Dinner will be on time to-day 
 not a minute early, and not a minute late." 
 
 Then he resumed his perusal of the adventures of 
 ladies to whom the illustrations accorded magnificent 
 calf-development. 
 
 The crew worked on the marsh that afternoon, and 
 the subsequent days of the week. They labored con- 
 scientiously but not zealously. There is a deal of dif- 
 ference, and the lumber-jack's unaided conscience is 
 likely to allow him a certain amount of conversation 
 from the decks of skidways. The work moved slowly. 
 At Christmas a number of the men " went out." Most
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 71 
 
 of them were back again after four or five days, for, 
 while men were not plenty, neither was work. The 
 equilibrium was nearly exact. 
 
 But the convivial souls had lost to Dyer the days 
 of their debauch, and until their thirst for recupera- 
 tive " Pain Killer," " Hinckley " and Jamaica Ginger 
 was appeased, they were not much good. Instead of 
 keeping up to fifty thousand a day, as Radway had 
 figured was necessary, the scale would not have ex- 
 ceeded thirty. 
 
 Dyer saw all this plainly enough, but was not able 
 to remedy it. That was not entirely his fault. He 
 did not dare give the delinquents their time, for he 
 would not have known where to fill their places. This 
 lay in Radway's experience. Dyer felt that responsi- 
 bilities a little too great had been forced on him, which 
 was partly true. In a few days the young man's facile 
 conscience had covered all his shortcomings with the 
 blanket excuse. He conceived that he had a griev- 
 ance against Radway!
 
 Chapter X 
 
 JTJADWAY returned to camp by the 6th of 
 r^ January. He went on snowshoes over the en- 
 M. V tire job ; and then sat silently in the office smok- 
 ing " Peerless " in his battered old pipe. Dyer 
 watched him amusedly, secure in his grievance in case 
 blame should be attached to him. The jobber looked 
 older. The lines of dry good-humor about his eyes 
 had subtly changed to an expression of pathetic 
 anxiety. He attached no blame to anybody, but rose 
 the next morning at horn-blow, and the men found 
 they had a new master over them. 
 
 And now the struggle with the wilderness came to 
 grapples. Radway was as one possessed by a burn- 
 ing fever. He seemed everywhere at once, always 
 helping with his own shoulder and arm, hurrying eag- 
 erly. For once luck seemed with him. The marsh 
 was cut over; the "eighty" on section eight was 
 skidded without a break. The weather held cold and 
 clear. 
 
 Now it became necessary to put the roads in shape 
 for hauling. All winter the blacksmith, between his 
 tasks of shoeing and mending, had occupied his time 
 in fitting the iron-work on eight log-sleighs which the 
 carpenter had hewed from solid sticks of timber. 
 They were tremendous affairs, these sleighs, with run- 
 ners six feet apart, and bunks nine feet in width for 
 the reception of logs. The bunks were so connected 
 by two loosely-coupled rods that, when emptied, they 
 could be swung parallel with the road, so reducing 
 the width of the sleigh. The carpenter had also built 
 
 72
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 73 
 
 two immense tanks on runners, holding each some 
 seventy barrels of water, and with holes so arranged 
 in the bottom and rear that on the withdrawal of plugs 
 the water would flood the entire width of the road. 
 These sprinklers were filled by horse power. A chain* 
 running through blocks attached to a solid upper 
 framework, like the open belfry of an Italian monas- 
 tery, dragged a barrel up a wooden track from the 
 water hole to the opening in the sprinkler. When in 
 action this formidable machine weighed nearly two 
 tons and resembled a moving house. Other men had 
 felled two big hemlocks, from which they had hewed 
 beams for a V plow. 
 
 The V plow was now put in action. Six horses 
 drew it down the road, each pair superintended by a 
 driver. The machine was weighted down by a num- 
 ber of logs laid across the arms. Men guided it by 
 levers, and by throwing their weight against the fans 
 of the plow. It was a gay, animated scene this, full 
 of the spirit of winter the plodding, straining horses, 
 the brilliantly dressed, struggling men, the sullen- 
 yielding snow thrown to either side, the shouts, warn- 
 ings, and commands. To right and left grew white 
 banks of snow. Behind stretched a broad white path 
 in which a scant inch hid the bare earth. 
 
 For some distance the way led along comparatiyely 
 high ground. Then, skirting the edge of a lake, it 
 plunged into a deep creek bottom between hills. 
 Here, earlier in the year, eleven bridges had been con- 
 structed, each a labor of accuracy; and perhaps as 
 many swampy places had been " corduroyed " by car- 
 peting them with long parallel poles. Now the first 
 difficulty began. 
 
 Some of the bridges had sunk below the level, and 
 the approaches had to be corduroyed to a practicable 
 grade. Others again were humped up like tom-cats, 
 and had to be pulled apart entirely. In spots the
 
 74 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " corduroy " had spread, so that the horses thrust 
 their hoofs far down into leg-breaking holes. The 
 experienced animals were never caught, however. As 
 soon as they felt the ground giving way beneath one 
 foot, they threw their weight on the other. 
 
 Still, that sort of thing was to be expected. 
 A gang of men who followed the plow carried axes 
 and cant-hooks for the purpose of repairing extem- 
 poraneously just such defects, which never would have 
 been discovered otherwise than by the practical ex- 
 perience. Radway himself accompanied the plow. 
 Thorpe, who went along as one of the " road 
 monkeys," saw now why such care had been required 
 of him in smoothing the way of stubs, knots, and 
 hummocks. 
 
 Down the creek an accident occurred on this ac- 
 count. The plow had encountered a drift. Three 
 times the horses had plunged at it, and three times 
 had been brought to a stand, not so much by the 
 drag of the V plow as by the wallowing they them- 
 selves had to do in the drift. 
 
 " No use, break her through, boys," said Radway. 
 
 So a dozen men hurled their bodies through, mak- 
 ing an opening for the horses. 
 
 "Hi! yup!" shouted the three teamsters, gather- 
 ing up their reins. 
 
 The horses put their heads down and plunged. The 
 whole apparatus moved with a rush, men clinging, 
 animals digging their hoofs in, snow flying. Suddenly 
 there came a check, then a crack, and then the plow 
 shot forward so suddenly and easily that the horses 
 all but fell on their noses. The flanging arms of the 
 V, forced in a place too narrow, had caught between 
 heavy stubs. One of the arms had broken square off. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to fell another hem- 
 lock and hew out another beam, which meant a day 
 lost. Radway occupied his men with shovels in clear-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 7; 
 
 ing the edge of the road, and started one of his sprink- 
 lers over the place already cleared. Water holes of 
 suitable size had been blown in the creek bank by 
 dynamite. There the machines were filled. It was 
 a slow process. Stratton attached his horse to the 
 chain and drove him back and forth, hauling the bar- 
 rel up and down the slideway. At the bottom it was 
 capsized and filled by means of a long pole shackled 
 to its bottom and manipulated by old man Heath. 
 At the top it turned over by its own weight. Thus 
 seventy odd times. 
 
 Then Fred Green hitched his team on, and the four 
 horses drew the creaking, cumbrous vehicle spouting 
 down the road. Water gushed in fans from the open- 
 ings on either side and beneath ; and in streams from 
 two holes behind. Not for an instant as long as the 
 flow continued dared the teamsters breathe their 
 horses, for a pause would freeze the runners tight to 
 the ground. A tongue at either end obviated the 
 necessity of turning around. 
 
 While the other men hewed at the required beam 
 for the broken V plow, Heath, Stratton, and Green 
 went over the cleared road-length once. To do so 
 required three sprinklerfuls. When the road should 
 be quite free, and both sprinklers running, they would 
 have to keep at it until after midnight. 
 
 And then silently the wilderness stretched forth her 
 hand and pushed these struggling atoms back to their 
 place. 
 
 That night it turned warmer. The change was 
 heralded by a shift of wind. Then some blue jays 
 appeared from nowhere and began to scream at their 
 more silent brothers, the whisky jacks. 
 
 " She's goin' to rain," said old Jackson. " The air 
 is kind o' holler." 
 
 "Hollow?" said Thorpe, laughing. "How is 
 that?"
 
 7 6 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " I don' no," confessed Hines, " but she is. She 
 jest feels that way." 
 
 In the morning the icicles dripped from the roof, 
 and although the snow did not appreciably melt, it 
 shrank into itself and became pock-marked on the 
 surface. 
 
 Radway was down looking at the road. 
 
 " She's holdin' her own," said he, " but there ain't 
 any use putting more water on her. She ain't freez- 
 ing a mite. We'll plow her out." 
 
 So they finished the job, and plowed her out, leav- 
 ing exposed the wet, marshy surface of the creek- 
 bottom, on which at night a thin crust formed. Across 
 the marsh the old tramped road held up the horses, 
 and the plow swept clear a little wider swath. 
 
 " She'll freeze a little to-night," said Radway hope- 
 fully. " You sprinkler boys get at her and wet her 
 down." 
 
 Until two o'clock in the morning the four teams 
 and the six men creaked back and forth spilling 
 hardly-gathered water weird, unearthly, in the flick- 
 ering light of their torches. Then they crept in and 
 ate sleepily the food that a sleepy cookee set out for 
 them. 
 
 By morning the mere surface of this sprinkled water 
 had frozen, the remainder beneath had drained away, 
 and so Radway found in his road considerable patches 
 of shell ice, useless, crumbling. He looked in despair 
 at the sky. Dimly through the gray he caught the 
 tint of blue. 
 
 The sun came out. Nut-hatches and wood-peckers 
 ran gayly up the warming trunks of the trees. Blue 
 jays fluffed and perked and screamed in the hard-wood 
 tops. A covey of grouse ventured from the swamp 
 and strutted vainly, a pause of contemplation between 
 each step. Radway, walking out on the tramped road 
 of the marsh, cracked the artificial skin and thrust his
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 77 
 
 loot through into icy water. That night the sprinklers 
 stayed in. 
 
 The devil seemed in it. If the thaw would only 
 cease before the ice bottom so laboriously constructed 
 was destroyed! Radway vibrated between the office 
 and the road. Men were lying idle ; teams were doing 
 the same. Nothing went on but the days of the year; 
 and four of them had already ticked off the calendar. 
 The deep snow of the unusually cold autumn had now 
 disappeared from the tops of the stumps. Down in 
 the swamp the covey of partridges were beginning to 
 hope that in a few days more they might discover a 
 bare spot in the burnings. It even stopped freezing 
 during the night. At times Dyer's little thermometer 
 marked as high as forty degrees. 
 
 " I often heard this was a sort V summer resort," 
 observed Tom Broadhead, " but danged if I knew it 
 was a summer resort all the year 'round." 
 
 The weather got to be the only topic of conversa- 
 tion. Each had his say, his prediction. It became 
 maddening. Towards evening the chill of melting 
 snow would deceive many into the belief that a cold 
 snap was beginning. 
 
 " She'll freeze before morning, sure," was the hope- 
 ful comment. 
 
 And then in the morning the air would be more 
 balmily insulting than ever. 
 
 " Old man is as blue as a whetstone," commented 
 Jackson Mines, " an' I don't blame him. This 
 weather'd make a man mad enough to eat the devil 
 with his horns left on." 
 
 By and by it got to be a case of looking on the bright 
 side of the affair from pure reaction. 
 
 " I don't know," said Radway, " it won't be so ba( 
 after all. A couple of days of zero weather, with al\ 
 this water lying around, would fix things up in pretty 
 good shape. If she only freezes tight, we'll have a
 
 78 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 good solid bottom to build on, and that'll be quite a 
 good rig out there on the marsh." 
 
 The inscrutable goddess of the wilderness smiled, 
 and calmly, relentlessly, moved her next pawn. 
 
 It was all so unutterably simple, and yet so effective. 
 Something there was in it of the calm inevitability of 
 fate. It snowed. 
 
 All night and all day the great flakes zig-zagged 
 softly down through the air. Radway plowed away 
 two feet of it. The surface was promptly covered by 
 a second storm. Radway doggedly plowed it out 
 again. 
 
 This time the goddess seemed to relent. The 
 ground froze solid. The sprinklers became assiduous 
 in their labor. Two days later the road was ready for 
 the first sleigh, its surface of thick, glassy ice, beautiful 
 to behold; the ruts cut deep and true; the grades 
 sanded, or sprinkled with retarding hay on the de- 
 scents. At the river the banking ground proved 
 solid. Radway breathed again, then sighed. Spring 
 was eight days nearer. He was eight days more 
 behind.
 
 Chapter XI 
 
 .^S soon as loading began, the cook served break- 
 /J fast at three o'clock. The men worked by the 
 X JL light of torches, which were often merely catsup 
 jugs with wicking in the necks. Nothing could be 
 more picturesque than a teamster conducting one of 
 his great pyramidical loads over the little inequalities 
 of the road, in the ticklish places standing atop with 
 the bent knee c f the Roman charioteer, spying and 
 forestalling the chances of the way with a fixed eye 
 and an intense concentration that relaxed not one 
 inch in the miles of the haul. Thorpe had become a 
 full-fledged cant-hook man. 
 
 He liked the work. There is about it a skill that 
 fascinates. A man grips suddenly with the hook of 
 his strong instrument, stopping one end that the other 
 may slide; he thrusts the short, strong stock between 
 the log and the skid, allowing it to be overrun; he 
 stops the roll with a sudden sure grasp applied at just 
 the right moment to be effective. Sometimes he al- 
 lows himself to be carried up bodily, clinging to the 
 cant-hook like an acrobat to a bar, until the log has 
 rolled once; when, his weapon loosened, he drops 
 lightly, easily to the ground. And it is exciting to 
 pile the logs on the sleigh, first a layer of five, say; 
 then one of six smaller; of but three; of two; until, 
 at the very apex, the last is dragged slowly up the 
 skids, poised, and, just as it is about to plunge down 
 the other side, is gripped and held inexorably by the 
 little men in blue flannel shirts. 
 
 Chains bind the loads. And if ever, during the load- 
 ing, or afterwards when the sleigh is in motion, the 
 
 79
 
 8o THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 weight of the logs causes the pyramid to break down 
 and squash out ; then woe to the driver, or whoever 
 nappen^ to be near! A saw log does not make a great 
 deal of fuss while falling, but it falls through anything 
 that happens in its way, and a man who gets mixed 
 up in a load of twenty-five or thirty of them obeying 
 the laws of gravitation from a height of some fifteen 
 to twenty feet, can be crushed into strange shapes and 
 fragments. For this reason the loaders are picked and 
 careful men. 
 
 At the banking grounds, which lie in and about the 
 bed of the river, the logs are piled in a gigantic skid- 
 way to await the spring freshets, which will carry them 
 down stream to the " boom." In that enclosure they 
 remain until sawed in the mill. 
 
 Such is the drama of the saw log, a story of grit, 
 resourcefulness, adaptability, fortitude and ingenuity 
 hard to match. Conditions never repeat themselves 
 in the woods as they do in the factory. The wilder- 
 ness offers ever new complications to solve, difficulties 
 to overcome. A man must think of everything, figure 
 on everything, from the grand sweep of the country 
 at large to the pressure on a king-bolt. And where 
 another possesses the boundless resources of a great 
 city, he has to rely on the material stored in one cor- 
 ner of a shed. It is easy to build a palace with men 
 and tools; it is difficult to build a log cabin with noth- 
 ing but an ax. His wits must help him where his 
 experience fails; and his experience must push him 
 mechanically along the track of habit when successive 
 buffetings have beaten his wits out of his head. * In 
 a day he must construct elaborate engines, roads, and 
 implements which old civilization considers the works 
 of leisure. Without a thought of expense he must 
 abandon as temporary, property which other indus- 
 tries cry out at being compelled to acquire as per- 
 manent. For this reason he becomes in time different
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL Si 
 
 from his fellows. The wilderness leaves something 
 of her mystery in his eyes, that mystery of hidden, 
 unknown but guessed, power. Men look after him 
 on the street, as they would look after any other 
 pioneer, in vague admiration of a scope more virile 
 than their own. 
 
 Thorpe, in common with the other men, had thought 
 Radway's vacation at Christmas time a mistake. He 
 could not but admire the feverish animation that now 
 characterized the jobber. Every mischance was as 
 quickly repaired as aroused expedient could do the 
 work. 
 
 The marsh received first attention. There the rest- 
 less snow drifted uneasily before the wind. Nearly 
 every day the road had to be plowed, and the 
 sprinklers followed the teams almost constantly. 
 Often it was bitter cold, but no one dared to suggest 
 to the determined jobber that it might be better to 
 remain indoors. The men knew as well as he that 
 the heavy February snows would block traffic beyond 
 hope of extrication. 
 
 As it was, several times an especially heavy fall 
 clogged the way. The snow-plow, even with extra 
 teams, could hardly force its path through. Men with 
 shovels helped. Often but a few loads a day, and they 
 small, could be forced to the banks by the utmost ex- 
 ertions of the entire crew. Esprit de corps awoke. 
 The men sprang to their tasks with alacrity, gave more 
 than an hour's exertion to each of the twenty-four, took 
 a pride in repulsing the assaults of the great enemy, 
 whom they personified under the generic " She." 
 Mike McGovern raked up a saint somewhere whom 
 he apostrophized in a personal and familiar manner. 
 
 He hit his head against an overhanging branch. 
 
 " You're a nice wan, now ain't ye? " he cried angrily 
 at the unfortunate guardian of his soul. " Dom if Oi 
 don't quit ye! Ye see!"
 
 82 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 "Be the gate of Hivin!" he shouted, when h 
 opened the door of mornings and discovered another 
 six inches of snow, " Ye're a burrd! If Oi couldn't 
 make out to be more of a saint than that, Oi'd quit 
 the biznis! Move yor pull, an' get us some dacint 
 weather! Ye awt t' be road monkeyin' on th' golden 
 streets, thot's what ye awt to be doin' ! " 
 
 Jackson Hines was righteously indignant, but with 
 the shrewdness of the old man, put the blame partly 
 where it belonged. 
 
 " I ain't sayin'," he observed judicially, " that this 
 weather ain't hell. It's hell and repeat. But a man 
 sort've got to expec' weather. He looks for it, and 
 he oughta be ready for it. The trouble is we got be- 
 hind Christmas. It's that Dyer. He's about as mean 
 as they make 'em. The only reason he didn't die long 
 ago is becuz th' Devil's thought him too mean to pay 
 any 'tendon to. If ever he should die an' go to 
 Heaven he'd pry up th' golden streets an' use the 
 infernal pit for a smelter." 
 
 With this magnificent bit of invective, Jackson 
 seized a lantern and stumped out to see that the team- 
 sters fed their horses properly. 
 
 " Didn't know you were a miner, Jackson," called 
 Thorpe, laughing. 
 
 " Young feller," replied Jackson at the door, " it's 
 a lot easier to tell what I ain't been." 
 
 So floundering, battling, making a little progress 
 every day, the strife continued. 
 
 One morning in February, Thorpe was helping load 
 a big butt log. He was engaged in " sending up "; 
 that is, he was one of the two men who stand at either 
 side of the skids to help the ascending log keep straight 
 and true to its bed on the pile. His assistant's end 
 caught on a sliver, ground for a second, and slipped 
 back. Thus the log ran slanting across the skids in- 
 stead of perpendicular to them. To rectify the fault, 
 Thorpe dug his cant-hook into the timber and threw
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 83 
 
 ms weight on the stock. He hoped in this manner 
 to check correspondingly the ascent of his end. In 
 other words, he took the place, on his side, of the pre- 
 venting sliver, so equalizing the pressure and forcing 
 the timber to its proper position. Instead of rolling, 
 the log slid. The stock of the cant-hook was jerked 
 from his hands. He fell back, and the cant-hook, after 
 clinging for a moment to the rough bark, snapped 
 down and hit him a crushing blow on the top of the 
 head. 
 
 Had a less experienced man than Jim Gladys been 
 stationed at the other end, Thorpe's life would have 
 ended there. A shout of surprise or horror would 
 have stopped the horse pulling on the decking chain; 
 the heavy stick would have slid back on the prostrate 
 young man, who would have thereupon been ground 
 to atoms as he lay. With the utmost coolness Gladys 
 swarmed the slanting face of the load; interposed the 
 length of his cant-hook stock between the log and it; 
 held it exactly long enough to straighten the timber, 
 but not so long as to crush his own head and arm; and 
 ducked, just as the great piece of wood rumbled over 
 the end of the skids and dropped with a thud into the 
 place Norton, the " top " man, had prepared for it. 
 
 It was a fine deed, quickly thought, quickly dared. 
 No one saw it. Jim Gladys was a hero, but a hero 
 without an audience. 
 
 They took Thorpe up and carried him in, just as 
 they had carried Hank Paul before. Men who had not 
 spoken a dozen words to him in as many days gathered 
 his few belongings and stuffed them awkwardly intc 
 his satchel. Jackson Hines prepared the bed of straw 
 and warm blankets in the bottom of the sleigh that 
 was to take him out. 
 
 " He would have made a good boss," said the old 
 fellow. " He's a- hard man to nick." 
 
 Thorpe was carried in from the front, and the battle 
 
 ent on without him.
 
 Chapter XII 
 
 rHORPE never knew how carefully he was car- 
 ried to camp, nor how tenderly the tote team- 
 ster drove his hay-couched burden to Beeson 
 Lake. He had no consciousness of the jolting train, 
 in the baggage car of which Jimmy, the little brake- 
 man, and Bud, and the baggage man spread blankets, 
 and altogether put themselves to a great deal of 
 trouble. When finally he came to himself, he was in 
 a long, bright, clean room, and the sunset was throw- 
 ing splashes of light on the ceiling over his head. 
 
 He watched them idly for a time; then turned on 
 his pillow. At once he perceived a long, double row 
 of clean white-painted iron beds, on which lay or sat 
 figures of men. Other figures, of women, glided here 
 and there noiselessly. They wore long, spreading 
 dove-gray clothes, with a starched white kerchief 
 drawn over the shoulders and across the breast. 
 Their heads were quaintly white-garbed in stiff wing- 
 like coifs, fitting close about the oval of the face. Then 
 Thorpe sighed comfortably, and closed his eyes and 
 blessed the chance that he had bought a hospital ticket 
 of the agent who had visited camp the month before. 
 For these were Sisters, and the young man lay in the 
 Hospital of St. Mary. 
 
 Time was when the lumber-jack who had the mis- 
 fortune to fall sick or to meet with an accident was 
 in a sorry plight indeed. If he possessed a " stake," 
 he would receive some sort of unskilled attention in 
 one of the numerous and fearful lumberman's board- 
 ing-houses, just so long as his money lasted, not one 
 
 84
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 85 
 
 instant more. Then he was bundled brutally into the 
 street, no matter what his condition might be. Penni- 
 less, without friends, sick, he drifted naturally to the 
 county poorhouse. There he was patched up quickly 
 and sent out half-cured. The authorities were not so 
 much to blame. With the slender appropriations a* 
 their disposal, they found difficulty in taking care 01 
 those who came legitimately under their jurisdiction. 
 It was hardly to be expected that they would welcome 
 with open arms a vast army of crippled and diseased 
 men temporarily from the woods. The poor lumber- 
 jack was often left broken in mind and body from 
 causes which a little intelligent care would have ren- 
 dered unimportant. 
 
 With the establishment of the first St. Mary's hos- 
 pital, I think at Bay City, all this was changed. Now, 
 in it and a half dozen others conducted on the same 
 principles, the woodsman receives the best of medi- 
 cines, nursing, and medical attendance. From one of 
 the numerous agents who periodically visit the camps, 
 he purchases for eight dollars a ticket which admits 
 him at any time during the year to the hospital, where 
 he is privileged to remain free of further charge until 
 convalescent. So valuable are these institutions, and 
 so excellently are they maintained by the Sisters, that 
 a hospital agent is always welcome, even in those 
 camps from which ordinary peddlers and insurance 
 men are rigidly excluded. Like a great many other 
 charities built on a common-sense self-supporting ra- 
 tional basis, the woods hospitals are under the Romao 
 Catholic Church. 
 
 In one of these hospitals Thorpe lay for six week? 
 suffering from a severe concussion of the brain. A) 
 the end of the fourth, his fever had broken, but he 
 was pronounced as yet too weak to be moved. 
 
 His nurse was a red-cheeked, blue-eyed, homely lit- 
 tle Irish girl, brimming with motherly good-humor.
 
 86 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 When Thorpe found strength to talk, the two became 
 friends. Through her influence he was moved to a 
 bed about ten feet from the window. Thence his 
 privileges were three roofs and a glimpse of the dis* 
 tant river. 
 
 The roofs were covered with snow. One day 
 Thorpe saw it sink into itself and gradually run away. 
 The tinkle tinkle tank tank of drops sounded from his 
 own eaves. Down the far-off river, sluggish reaches 
 of ice drifted. Then in a night the blue disappeared 
 from the stream. It became a menacing gray, and 
 even from his distance Thorpe could catch the swirl 
 of its rising waters. A day or two later dark masses 
 drifted or shot across the field of his vision, and twice 
 he thought he distinguished men standing upright and 
 bold on single logs as they rushed down the current. 
 
 " What is the date? " he asked of the Sister. 
 
 " The elevent' of March." 
 
 " Isn't it early for the thaw? " 
 
 "Listen to 'im!" exclaimed the Sister delightedly, 
 "Early is it! Sure th' freshet co't thim all. Look, 
 darlint, ye kin see th' drive from here." 
 
 " I see," said Thorpe wearily, " when can I get 
 out? " 
 
 " Not for wan week," replied the Sister decidedly. 
 
 At the end of the week Thorpe said good-by to his 
 attendant, who appeared as sorry to see him go as 
 though the same partings did not come to her a dozen 
 times a year; he took two days of tramping the little 
 town to regain the use of his legs, and boarded the 
 morning train for Beeson Lake. He did not pause in 
 the village, but bent his steps to the river trail.
 
 Chapter XIII 
 
 rHORPE found the woods very different from 
 when he had first traversed them. They were 
 full of patches of wet earth and of sunshine; 
 of dark pine, looking suddenly worn, and of fresh 
 green shoots of needles, looking deliciously spring- 
 like. This was the contrast everywhere stern, ear- 
 nest, purposeful winter, and gay, laughing, careless 
 spring. It was impossible not to draw in fresh spirits 
 with every step. 
 
 He followed the trail by the river. Butterballs and 
 scoters paddled up at his approach. Bits of rotten ice 
 occasionally swirled down the diminishing stream. 
 The sunshine was clear and bright, but silvery rather 
 than golden, as though a little of the winter's snow, 
 a last ethereal incarnation, had lingered in its sub- 
 stance. Around every bend Thorpe looked for some 
 of Radway's crew " driving " the logs down the cur- 
 rent. He knew from chance encounters with several 
 of the men in Bay City that Radway was still in camp; 
 which meant, of course, that the last of the season's 
 operations were not yet finished. Five miles further 
 Thorpe began to wonder whether this last conclusion 
 might not be erroneous. The Cass Branch had 
 shrunken almost to its original limits. Only here and 
 there a little bayou or marsh attested recent freshets. 
 The drive must have been finished, even this early, 
 for the stream in its present condition would hardly 
 float saw logs, certainly not in quantity. 
 
 Thorpe, puzzled, walked on. At the banking 
 ground he found empty skids. Evidently the drive 
 
 87
 
 88 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 was over. And yet even to Thorpe's ignorance, it 
 seemed incredible that the remaining million and a 
 half of logs had been hauled, banked and driven dur- 
 ing the short time he had lain in the Bay City hos- 
 pital. More to solve the problem than in any hope 
 of work, he set out up the logging road. 
 
 Another three miles brought him to camp. It 
 looked strangely wet and sodden and deserted. In 
 fact, Thorpe found a bare half dozen people in it, 
 Radway, the cook, and four men who were helping to 
 pack up the movables, and who later would drive out 
 the wagons containing them. The jobber showed 
 strong traces of the strain he had undergone, but 
 greeted Thorpe almost jovially. He seemed able to 
 show more of his real nature now that the necessity 
 of authority had been definitely removed. 
 
 " Hullo, young man," he shouted at Thorpe's mud- 
 splashed figure, " come back to view the remains ? All 
 well again, heigh? That's good! " 
 
 He strode down to grip the young fellow heartily by 
 the hand. It was impossible not to be charmed by the 
 sincere cordiality of his manner. 
 
 " I didn't know you were through," explained 
 Thorpe, " I came to see if I could get a job." 
 
 " Well now I am sorry! " cried Radway, " you can 
 turn in and help though, if you want to." 
 
 Thorpe greeted the cook and old Jackson Hmes, 
 the only two whom he knew, and set to work to tie 
 up bundles of blankets, and to collect axes, peavies, 
 and tools of all descriptions. This was evidently the 
 last wagon-trip, for little remained to be done. 
 
 " I ought by rights to take the lumber of the roofs 
 and floors," observed Radway thoughtfully, " but I 
 guess she don't matter." 
 
 Thorpe had never seen him in better spirits. He 
 ascribed the older man's hilarity to relief over the com- 
 pletion of a difficult task. That evening the seven
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 89 
 
 dined together at one end of the long table. The big 
 room exhaled already the atmosphere of desertion. 
 
 "Not much like old times, is she?" laughed Rad- 
 way. " Can't you just shut your eyes and hear Bap- 
 tiste say, ' Mak' heem de soup one tam more for me ' ? 
 She's pretty empty now." 
 
 Jackson Hines looked whimsically down the bare 
 board. " More room than God made for geese in Ire~ 
 land," was his comment. 
 
 After supper they even sat outside for a little time 
 to smoke their pipes, chair-tilted against the logs of 
 the cabins, but soon the chill of melting snow drove 
 them indoors. The four teamsters played seven-up in 
 the cook camp by the light of a barn lantern, while 
 Thorpe and the cook wrote letters. Thorpe's was to 
 his sister. 
 
 " I have been in the hospital for about a month," he 
 wrote. " Nothing serious a crack on the head, 
 which is all right now. But I cannot get home this 
 summer, nor, I am afraid, can we arrange about the 
 school this year. I am about seventy dollars ahead 
 of where I was last fall, so you see it is slow business. 
 This summer I am going into a mill, but the wages 
 for green labor are not very high there either," and 
 so on. 
 
 When Miss Helen Thorpe, aged seventeen, received 
 this document she stamped her foot almost angrily. 
 " You'd think he was a day-laborer! " she cried. 
 14 Why doesn't he try for a clerkship or something in 
 the city where he'd have a chance to use his brains! " 
 
 The thought of her big, strong, tanned brother 
 chained to a desk rose to her, and she smiled a little 
 sadly. 
 
 " I know," she went on to herself, " he'd rather be 
 a common laborer in the woods than railroad manager 
 ifi the office. He loves his out-of-doors." 
 
 " Helen ! " called a voice from below, " if you're
 
 90 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 through up there, I wish you'd come down and help 
 me carry this rug out." 
 
 The girl's eyes cleared with a snap. 
 
 " So do I ! " she cried defiantly, " so do I love out- 
 of-doors! I like the woods and the fields and the 
 trees just as much as he does, only differently; but / 
 don't get out!" 
 
 And thus she came to feeling rebelliously that her 
 brother had been a little selfish in his choice of an 
 occupation, that he sacrificed her inclinations to his 
 own. She did not guess, how could she? his 
 dreams for her. She did not see the future through 
 his thoughts, but through his words. A negative 
 hopelessness settled down on her, which soon her 
 strong spirit, worthy counterpart of her brother's, 
 changed to more positive rebellion. Thorpe had 
 aroused antagonism where he craved only love. The 
 knowledge of that fact would have surprised and hurt 
 him, for he was entirely without suspicion of it. He 
 lived subjectively to so great a degree that his thoughts 
 and aims took on a certain tangible objectivity, they 
 became so real to him that he quite overlooked the 
 necessity of communication to make them as real to 
 others. He assumed unquestioningly that the other 
 must know. So entirely had he thrown himself into 
 his ambition of making a suitable position for Helen, 
 so continually had he dwelt on it in his thoughts, so 
 earnestly had he striven for it in every step of the 
 great game he was beginning to play, that it never 
 occurred to him he should also concede a definite out- 
 ward manifestation of his feeling in order to assure 
 its acceptance. Thorpe believed that he had sacrificed 
 every thought and effort to his sister. Helen was be- 
 coming convinced that he had considered only himself. 
 
 After finishing the letter which gave occasion to this 
 train of thought, Thorpe lit his pipe and strolled out 
 into the darkness. Opposite the little office he stopped 
 amazed.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 91 
 
 Through the narrow window he could see Radway 
 seated in front of the stove. Every attitude of the man 
 denoted the most profound dejection. He had sunk 
 down into his chair until he rested on almost the small 
 of his back, his legs were struck straight out in front 
 of him, his chin rested on his breast, and his two 'arms 
 hung listless at his side, a pipe half falling from the 
 fingers of one hand. All the facetious lines had 
 turned to pathos. In his face sorrowed the anxious, 
 questing, wistful look of .the St. Bernard that does not 
 understand. 
 
 " What's the matter with the boss, anyway? " asked 
 Thorpe in a low voice of Jackson Hines, when the 
 seven-up game was finished. 
 
 " H'aint ye heard? " inquired the old man in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Why, no. What?" 
 
 " Busted," said the old man sententiously. 
 
 " How? What do you mean? " 
 
 " What I say. He's busted. That freshet caught 
 him too quick. They's more'n a million and a half 
 logs left in the woods that can't be got out this year, 
 and as his contract calls for a finished job, he don't get 
 nothin' for what he's done." 
 
 " That's a queer rig," commented Thorpe. " He's 
 done a lot of valuable work here, the timber's cut 
 and skidded, anyway; and he's delivered a good deal 
 of it to the main drive. The M. & D. outfit get all the 
 advantage of that." 
 
 " They do, my son. When old Daly's hand gets 
 near anything, it cramps. I don't know how the old 
 man come to make such a contrac', but he did. Re- 
 sult is, he's out his expenses and time." 
 
 To understand exactly the catastrophe that had oc- 
 curred, it is necessary to follow briefly an outline of 
 the process after the logs have been piled on the banks. 
 There they remain until the break-up attendant on
 
 92 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 spring shall flood the stream to a freshet. The roll- 
 ways are then broken, and the saw logs floated down 
 the river to the mill where they are to be cut into 
 lumber. 
 
 If for any reason this transportation by water is de- 
 layed until the flood goes down, the logs are stranded 
 or left in pools. Consequently every logger puts into 
 the two or three weeks of freshet water a feverish ac- 
 tivity which shall carry his product through before the 
 ebb. 
 
 The exceptionally early break-up of this spring, 
 combined with the fact that, owing to the series of 
 incidents and accidents already sketched, the actual 
 cutting and skidding had fallen so far behind, caught 
 Radway unawares. He saw his rollways breaking out 
 while his teams were still hauling in the woods. In 
 order to deliver to the mouth of the Cass Branch the 
 three million already banked, he was forced to drop 
 everything else and attend strictly to the drive. This 
 left still, as has been stated, a million and a half on 
 skidways, which Radway knew he would be unable to 
 get out that year. 
 
 In spite of the jobber's certainty that his claim was 
 thus annulled, and that he might as well abandon the 
 enterprise entirely for all he would ever get out of it, 
 he finished the " drive " conscientiously and saved to 
 the Compcny the logs already banked. Then he had 
 interviewed Daly. The latter refused to pay him one 
 cent. Nothing remained but to break camp and grin 
 as best he might over the loss of his winter's work 
 and expenses. 
 
 The next day Radway and Thorpe walked the ten 
 miles of the river trail together, while the teamsters 
 and the cook drove down the five teams. Under the 
 influence of the solitude and a certain sympathy which 
 Thorpe manifested, Radway talked a very little, 
 
 " I got behind; that's all there is to it," he said. " I
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 s'pose I ought to have driven the men a little; but still, 
 I don't know. It gets pretty cold on the plains. I 
 guess I bit off more than I could chew." 
 
 His eye followed listlessly a frenzied squirrel swing- 
 ing from the tops of poplars. 
 
 " I wouldn't 'a done it for myself," he went on. " I 
 don't like the confounded responsibility. They's too 
 much worry connected with it all. I had a good snug 
 little stake mighty nigh six thousand. She's all 
 gone now. That'd have been enough for me I ain't 
 a drinkin' man. But then there was the woman and 
 the kid. This ain't no country for woman-folks, and I 
 wanted t' take little Lida out o' here. I had lots of 
 experience in the woods, and I've seen men make big 
 money time and again, who didn't know as much about 
 it as I do. But they got there, somehow. Says I, I'll 
 make a stake this year I'd a had twelve thousand in 
 th' bank, if things'd have gone right and then we'll 
 jest move down around Detroit an' I'll put Lida in 
 school." 
 
 Thorpe noticed a break in the man's voice, and 
 glancing suddenly toward him was astounded to catch 
 his eyes brimming with tears. Radway perceived the 
 surprise. 
 
 " You know when I left Christmas? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes/' 
 
 " I was gone two weeks, and them two weeks done 
 me. We was going slow enough before, God knows, 
 but even with the rank weather and all, I think we'd 
 have won out, if we could have held the same gait." 
 
 Radway paused. Thorpe was silent. 
 
 "The boys thought it was a mighty poor rig, my 
 leaving that way." 
 
 He paused again in evident expectation of a reply. 
 Again Thorpe was silent. 
 
 * Didn't they? " Radway insisted. 
 
 " Yes, they did," answered Thorpe.
 
 94 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The older man sighed. " I thought so," he went on. 
 " Well, I didn't go to spend Christmas. I went be- 
 cause Jimmy brought me a telegram that Lida was sick 
 with diphtheria. I sat up nights with her for 'leven 
 days." 
 
 " No bad after-effects, I hope? " inquired Thorpe. 
 
 " She died," said Radway simply. 
 
 The two men tramped stolidly on. This was too 
 great an affair for Thorpe to approach except on the 
 knees of his spirit. After a long interval, during 
 which the waters had time to still, the young man 
 changed the subject. 
 
 " Aren't you going to get anything out of M. & 
 D.?" he asked. 
 
 " No. Didn't earn nothing. I left a lot of their saw 
 logs hung up in the woods, where they'll deteriorate 
 from rot and worms. This is their last season in this 
 district." 
 
 "Got anything left?" 
 
 " Not a cent." 
 
 " What are you going to do? " 
 
 " Do! " cried the old woodsman, the fire springing 
 to his eye. " Do! I'm going into the woods, by God! 
 I'm going to work with my hands, and be happy! I'm 
 going to do other men's work for them and take other 
 men's pay. Let them do the figuring and worrying. 
 Ill boss their gangs and make their roads and see to 
 their logging for 'em, but it's got to be theirs. Do! 
 I'm going to be a free man by the G. jumping 
 Moses!"
 
 Chapter XIV 
 
 rHORPE dedicated a musing instant to the in- 
 congruity of rejoicing over a freedom gained 
 by ceasing to be master and becoming servant. 
 
 " Radway," said he suddenly, " I need money and 
 I need it bad. I think you ought to get something 
 out of this job of the M. & D. not much, but some- 
 thing. Will you give me a share of what I can collect 
 from them ? " 
 
 " Sure ! " agreed the jobber readily, with a laugh. 
 " Sure ! But you won't get anything. I'll give you 
 ten per cent quick." 
 
 " Good enough ! " cried Thorpe. 
 
 " But don't be too sure you'll earn day wages doing 
 it," warned the other. " I saw Daly when I was down 
 here last week." 
 
 " My time's not valuable," replied Thorpe. " Now 
 when we get to town I want your power of attorney 
 and a few figures, after which I will not bother you 
 again." 
 
 The next day the young man called for the second 
 time at the little red-painted office under the shadow 
 of the mill, and for the second time stood before the 
 bulky power of the junior member of the firm. 
 
 " Well, young man, what can I do for you? " asked 
 the latter. 
 
 " I have been informed," said Thorpe without pre- 
 liminary, " that you intend to pay John Radway noth- 
 ing for the work done on the Cass Branch this winter. 
 Is that true? " 
 
 Daly studied his antagonist meditatively. " If it is 
 true, what is it to you? " he asked at length. 
 
 95
 
 96 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 ' I am acting in Mr. Radway's interest." 
 
 ' You are one of Radway's men? " 
 
 ' Yes." 
 
 ' In what capacity have you been working for him? " 
 
 ' Cant-hook man," replied Thorpe briefly. 
 
 ' I see," said Daly slowly. Then suddenly, with an 
 intensity of energy that startled Thorpe, he cried: 
 " Now you get out of here! Right off! Quick! " 
 
 The younger man recognized the compelling and 
 autocratic boss addressing a member of the crew. 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the kind! " he replied with a 
 flash of fire. 
 
 The mill-owner leaped to his feet every inch a leader 
 of men. Thorpe did not wish to bring about an actual 
 scene of violence. He had attained his object, which 
 was to fluster the other out of his judicial calm. 
 
 " I have Radway's power of attorney," he added. 
 
 Daly sat down, controlled himself with an effort, and 
 growled out, " Why didn't you say so? " 
 
 " Now I would like to know your position," went on 
 Thorpe. " I am not here to make trouble, but as an 
 associate of Mr. Radway, I have a right to understand 
 
 the case. Of course I have his side of the story ," 
 
 he suggested, as though convinced that a detailing of 
 the other side might change his views. 
 
 Daly considered carefully, fixing his flint-blue eyes 
 unswervingly on Thorpe's face. Evidently his scrutiny 
 advised him that the young man was a force to be 
 reckoned with. 
 
 " It's like this," said he abruptly, " we contracted 
 last fall with this man Radway to put in five million 
 feet of our timber, delivered to the main drive at the 
 mouth of the Cass Branch. In this he was to act in- 
 dependently except as to the matter of provisions. 
 Those he drew from our van, and was debited with the 
 amount of the same. Is that clear? " 
 
 44 Perfectly," replied Thorpe.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 97 
 
 " In return we were to pay him, merchantable scale, 
 four dollars a thousand. If, however, he failed to pu* 
 in the whole job, the contract was void." 
 
 " That's how I understand it," commented Thorpe, 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, he didn't get in the five million. There's a 
 million and a half hung up in the woods." 
 
 " But you have in your hands three million and a 
 half, which under the present arrangement you get free 
 of any charge whatever." 
 
 " And we ought to get it," cried Daly. " Great 
 guns! Here we intend to saw this summer and quit. 
 We want to get in every stick of timber we own so 
 as to be able to clear out of here for good and all at 
 the close of the season ; and now this condigned jobber 
 ties us up for a million and a half." 
 
 " It is exceedingly annoying," conceded Thorpe, 
 " and it is a good deal of Radway's fault, I am willing 
 to admit, but it's your fault too." 
 
 " To be sure," replied Daly with the accent of sar- 
 casm. 
 
 " You had no business entering into any such con- 
 tract. It gave him no show." 
 
 " I suppose that was mainly his lookout, wasn't it? 
 and as I already told you, we had to protect ourselves." 
 
 " You should have demanded security for the com- 
 pletion of the work. Under your present agreement, 
 if Radway got in the timber, you were to pay him a 
 fair price. If he didn't, you appropriated everything 
 he had already done. In other words, you made him 
 a bet." 
 
 " I don't care what you call it," answered Daly, who 
 had recovered his good-humor in contemplation of 
 the security of his position. " The fact stands aB 
 right." 
 
 It does," replied Thorpe unexpectedly, " and I'm 
 glad of it Now let's examine a few figures. You
 
 98 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 owned five million feet of timber, which at the price 
 of stumpage " (standing trees) " was worth ten thou- 
 sand dollars." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " You come out at the end of the season with three 
 million and a half of saw logs, which with the four 
 dollars' worth of logging added, are worth twenty-one 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 "Hold on!" cried Daly, "we paid Radway four 
 dollars; we could have done it ourselves for less." 
 
 " You could not have done it for one cent less than 
 four-twenty in that country," replied Thorpe, " as any 
 expert will testify." 
 
 " Why did we give it to Radway at four, then? " 
 
 " You saved the expense of a salaried overseer, and 
 yourselves some bother," replied Thorpe. " Radway 
 could do it for less, because, for some strange reason 
 which you yourself do not understand, a jobber can 
 always log for less than a company." 
 
 " We could have done it for four," insisted Daly 
 stubbornly, " but get on. What are you driving at? 
 My time's valuable." 
 
 " Well, put her at four, then," agreed Thorpe. 
 " That makes your saw logs worth over twenty thou- 
 sand dollars. Of this value Radway added thirteen 
 thousand. You have appropriated that much of his 
 without paying him one cent." 
 
 Daly seemed amused. " How about the million and 
 a half feet of ours he appropriated? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " I'm coming to that. Now for your losses. At th 
 stumpage rate your million and a half which Radway 
 ' appropriated ' would be only three thousand. But 
 for the sake of argument, we'll take the actual sum 
 you'd have received for saw logs. Even then the mil- 
 lion and a half would only have been worth between 
 eight and nine thousand. Deducting this purely theo- 
 retical loss, Radway has occasioned you, from the
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 99 
 
 amount he has gained for you, you are still some four 
 or five thousand ahead of the game. For that you 
 paid him nothing." 
 
 " That's Radway's lookout." 
 
 " In justice you should pay him that amount. He 
 is a poor man. He has sunk all he owned in this vent- 
 ure, some twelve thousand dollars, and he has noth- 
 ing to live on. Even if you pay him five thousand, 
 he has lost considerable, while you have gained." 
 
 " How have we gained by this bit of philanthropy? " 
 
 " Because you originally paid in cash for all that 
 timber on the stump just ten thousand dollars and you 
 get from Radway saw logs to the value of twenty," 
 replied Thorpe sharply. " Besides you still own the 
 million and a half which, if you do not care to put them 
 in yourself, you can sell for something on the skids." 
 
 " Don't you know, young man, that white pine logs 
 on skids will spoil utterly in a summer? Worms get 
 into 'em." 
 
 " I do," replied Thorpe, " unless you bark them; 
 which process will cost you about one dollar a thou- 
 sand. You can find any amount of small purchasers 
 at reduced price. You can sell them easily at three 
 dollars. That nets you for your million and a half i 
 little over four thousand dollars more. Under the cir- 
 cumstances, I do not think that my request for five 
 thousand is at all exorbitant." 
 
 Daly laughed. " You are a shrewd figurer, and 
 your remarks are interesting," said he. 
 
 " Will you give five thousand dollars? " asked 
 Thorpe. 
 
 " I will not," replied Daly, then with a sudden 
 change of humor, " and now I'll do a little talking. 
 I've listened to you just as long as I'm going to. I 
 have Radway's contract in that safe and I live up to 
 it I'll thank you to go plumb to hell ! " 
 
 " That's your last word, is it? " asked Thorpe, risiag.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Then," said he slowly and distinctly, " I'll tell you 
 what /'// do. I intend to collect in full the four dollars 
 a thousand for the three million and a half Mr. Rad- 
 way has delivered to you. In return Mr. Radway will 
 purchase of you at the stumpage rates of two dollars 
 a thousand the million and a half he failed to put in. 
 That makes a bill against you, if my figuring is cor- 
 rect, of just eleven thousand dollars. You will pay 
 that bill, and I will tell you why: your contract will 
 be classed in any court as a gambling contract for lack 
 of consideration. You have no legal standing in the 
 world. I call your bluff, Mr. Daly, and I'll fight you 
 from the drop of the hat through every court in 
 Christendom." 
 
 " Fight ahead," advised Daly sweetly,__who knew 
 perfectly well that Thorpe's law was faulty. As a mat- 
 ter of fact the young man could have collected on other 
 grounds, but neither was aware of that. 
 
 " Furthermore," pursued Thorpe in addition, " 111 
 repeat my offer before witnesses; and if I win the first 
 suit, I'll sue you for the money we could have made 
 by purchasing the extra million and a half before it 
 had a chance to spoil." 
 
 This statement had its effect, for it forced an im- 
 mediate settlement before the pine on the skids should 
 deteriorate. Daly lounged back with a little more 
 deadly carelessness. 
 
 " And, lastly," concluded Thorpe, playing his trump 
 card, " the suit from start to finish will be published 
 in every important paper in this country. If you do 
 not believe I have the influence to do this, you are at 
 liberty to doubt the fact." 
 
 Daly was cogitating many things. He knew that 
 publicity was the last thing to be desired. Thorpe's 
 statement had been made in view of the fact that much 
 of the business of a lumber firm is done on credit. He
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 thought that perhaps a rumor of a big suit going 
 against the firm might weaken confidence. As a mat- 
 ter of fact, this consideration had no weight whatevek 
 with the older man, although the threat of publicity 
 actually gained for Thorpe what he demanded. The 
 lumberman feared the noise of an investigation solely 
 and simply because his firm, like so many others, was 
 engaged at the time in stealing government timber in 
 the upper peninsula. He did not call it stealing; but 
 that was what it amounted to. Thorpe's shot in the 
 air hit full. 
 
 " I think we can arrange a basis of settlement," he 
 said finally. " Be here to-morrow morning at ten with 
 Radway." 
 
 " Very well," said Thorpe. 
 
 " By the way," remarked Daly, " I don't believe I 
 know your name?" 
 
 ** Thorpe," was the reply. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Thorpe," said the lumberman with cold 
 anger, " if at any time there is anything within my 
 power or influence that you want I'll see that you 
 don't get it."
 
 Chapter XV 
 
 rHE whole affair was finally compromised to* 
 nine thousand dollars. Radway, grateful be- 
 yond expression, insisted on Thorpe's accept- 
 ance of an even thousand of it. With this money in 
 hand, the latter felt justified in taking a vacation for 
 the purpose of visiting his sister, so in two days aftel 
 the signing of the check he walked up the straight 
 garden path that led to Renwick's home. 
 
 It was a little painted frame house, back from the 
 street, fronted by a precise bit of lawn, with a willow 
 bush at one corner. A white picket fence effectually 
 separated it from a broad, shaded, not unpleasing 
 street. An osage hedge and a board fence respective!) 
 bounded the side and back. 
 
 Under the low porch Thorpe rang the bell at a door 
 flanked by two long, narrow strips of imitation stained 
 glass. He entered then a little dark hall from which 
 the stairs rose almost directly at the door, containing 
 with difficulty a hat-rack and a table on which rested 
 a card tray with cards. In the course of greeting an 
 elderly woman, he stepped into the parlor. This was 
 a small square apartment carpeted in dark Brussels, 
 and stuffily glorified in the bourgeois manner by a 
 white marble mantel-piece, several pieces of mahogany 
 furniture upholstered in haircloth, a table on which 
 reposed a number of gift book*- in celluloid and other 
 fancy bindings, an old-fashioned piano with a doily 
 and a bit of china statuary, a cabinet or so containing 
 such things as ore specimens, dried seaweed and coins, 
 and a spindle-legged table or two upholding glass cases
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 103 
 
 garnished with stuffed birds and wax flowers. The 
 ceiling was so low that the heavy window hangings 
 depended almost from the angle of it and the walls. 
 
 Thorpe, by some strange freak of psychology, sud- 
 denly recalled a wild, windy day in the forest. He had 
 stood on the top of a height. He saw again the sharp 
 puffs of snow, exactly like the smoke from bursting 
 shells, where a fierce swoop of the storm struck the 
 laden tops of pines ; the dense swirl, again exactly like 
 smoke but now of a great fire, that marked the lakes. 
 The picture super-imposed itself silently over this 
 stuffy bourgeois respectability, like the shadow of a 
 dream. He heard plainly enough the commonplace 
 drawl of the woman before him offering him the plati- 
 tudes of her kind. 
 
 " You are lookin* real well, Mr. Thorpe," she was 
 saying, " an' I just know Helen will be glad to see you. 
 She had a hull afternoon out to-day and won't be back 
 to tea. Dew set and tell me about what you've been 
 a-doin* and how you're a-gettin' along." 
 
 " No, thank you, Mrs. Renwick," he replied, " I'D 
 come back later. How is Helen?" 
 
 "She's purty well; and sech a nice girl I think 
 ihe's getting right handsome." 
 
 " Can you tell me where she went? ** 
 
 But Mrs. Renwick did not know. So Thorpe wan- 
 dered about the maple-shaded streets of the little town. 
 
 For the purposes he had in view five hundred dol- 
 lars would be none too much. The remaining five 
 hundred he had resolved to invest in his sister's com- 
 fort and happiness. He had thought the matter over 
 and come to his decision in that secretive, careful 
 fashion so typical of him, working over every logical 
 step of his induction so thoroughly that it ended by 
 becoming part of his mental fiber. So when he 
 reached the conclusion it had already become to him 
 an axionx In presenting it as such to his sister, be
 
 104 THE BLAZF:D TRAIL 
 
 never realized that she had not followed with him thtf 
 logical steps, and so could hardly be expected to ac- 
 cept the conclusion out-of-hand. 
 
 Thorpe wished to give his sister the best education 
 possible in the circumstances. She was now nearly 
 eighteen years old. He knew likewise that he would 
 probably experience a great deal of difficulty in finding 
 another family which would afford the young girl 
 quite the same equality coupled with so few disadvan- 
 tages. Admitted that its level of intellect and taste 
 was not high, Mrs. Renwick was on the whole a good 
 influence. Helen had not hi the least the position of 
 servant, but of a daughter. She helped around the 
 house ; and in return she was fed, lodged and clothed 
 (or nothing. 
 
 So though the money might have enabled Helen to 
 live independently hi a modest way for a year or so, 
 Thorpe preferred that she remain where she was. His 
 game was too much a game of chance. He might mid 
 Himself at the end of the year without further means. 
 Above all things he wished to assure Helen's material 
 safety until such time as he should be quite certain of 
 himself. 
 
 In pursuance of this idea he had gradually evolved 
 what seemed to him an excellent plan. He had al- 
 ready perfected it by correspondence with Mrs. Ren- 
 wick. It was, briefly, this: he, Thorpe, would at once 
 lure a servant girl, who would make anything but 
 supervision unnecessary in so small a household. The 
 remainder of the money he had already paid for a 
 year's tuition in the Seminary of the town. Thus 
 Helen gained her leisure and an opportunity for study; 
 and still retained her home in case of reverse. 
 
 Thorpe found his sister already a young lady. After 
 tiie first delight of meeting had passed, they sat aid* 
 by side on the haircloth sofa and took stock of 
 other.
 
 Helen had developed from the school child to the 
 woman. She was a handsome girl, possessed of 9 
 rfender, well-rounded form, deep hazel eyes with the 
 level gaze of her brother, a clean-cut patrician face, 
 and a thorough-bred neatness of carriage that adver- 
 tised her good blood. Altogether a figure rather 
 aloof, a face rather impassive; but with the possibility 
 of passion and emotion, and a will to back them. 
 
 " Oh, but you're tanned and and bigt " she cried* 
 kissing her brother. " You've had such a strange 
 winter, haven't you? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied absently. 
 
 Another man would have struck her young imag- 
 ination with the wild, free thrill of the wilderness. 
 Thus he would have gained her sympathy and under- 
 standing. Thorpe was too much in earnest. 
 
 " Things came a little better than I thought they 
 were going to, toward the last," said he, '* and I made 
 a little money." 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad!" she cried. "Was it much?" 
 
 " No, not much," he answered. The actual figures 
 would have been so much better! " I've made ar- 
 rangements with Mrs. Renwick to hire a servant girl, 
 so you will have all your time free ; and I have paid a 
 year's tuition for you in the Seminary." 
 
 "Oh!" said the girl, and fell silent. 
 
 After a time, " Thank you very much, Harry dear,* 
 Then after another interval, " I think I'll go get ready 
 for supper." 
 
 Instead of getting ready for supper, she paced ex- 
 citedly up and down her room. 
 
 " Oh, why didn't he say what he was about ? * she 
 cried to herself. " Why didn't he ! Why didn't he I" 
 
 Next morning she opened the subject again. 
 
 " Harry, dear," said she, " I have a little scheme, 
 and I want to see if it is not feasible. How much wiQ 
 tfee girl and the Seminary cost?"
 
 tot THE BLAZED THAR 
 
 * About four hundred dollars.** 
 
 " Well now, see, dear. With four hundred dollar* 
 I can live for a year very nicely by boarding with 
 ome girls I know who live in a sort of a club; 
 and I could learn much more by going to the High 
 School and continuing with some other classes I 
 am interested in now. Why see, Harry!" she cried, 
 all interest. " We have Professor Carghill come twice 
 a week to teach us English, and Professor Johns, who 
 teaches us history, and we hope to get one or two 
 more this winter. If I go to the Seminary, 111 have 
 to miss all that And Harry, really I don't want to 
 go to the Seminary. I don't think I should like it 
 I know I shouldn't." 
 
 " But why not live here, Helen? " he asked. 
 
 " Because I'm tired of it! " she cried; " sick to the 
 soul of the stuffiness, and the glass cases, and the 
 the goodness of it!" 
 
 Thorpe remembered his vision of the wild, wind* 
 tossed pines, and sighed. He wanted very, very much 
 to act in accordance with his sister's desires, although 
 he winced under the sharp hurt pang of the sensitive 
 man whose intended kindness is not appreciated. The 
 impossibility of complying, however, reacted to shut 
 his real ideas and emotions the more inscrutably 
 within him. 
 
 " I'm afraid you would not find the girls' boarding- 
 club scheme a good one, Helen," said he. " You'd 
 find it would work better in theory than in practice.* 
 
 " But it has worked with the other girls! " she cried 
 
 " I think you would be better off here." 
 
 Helen bravely choked back her disappointment. 
 
 " I might live here, but let the Seminary drop, any- 
 way. That would save a good deal," she begged 
 " I'd get quite as much good out of my work outside, 
 and then we'd have all that money besides." 
 
 "I don't know; I'll see," replied Thorpe. "Tha
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 107 
 
 mental discipline of class-room work might be a good 
 thing." 
 
 He had already thought of this modification him- 
 self, but with his characteristic caution, threw cold 
 water on the scheme until he could ascertain definitely 
 whether or not it was practicable. He had already 
 paid the tuition for the year, and was in doubt as to 
 its repayment. As a matter of fact, the negotiation 
 took about two weeks. 
 
 During that time Helen Thorpe went through her 
 disappointment and emerged on the other side. Her 
 nature was at once strong and adaptable. One by one 
 she grappled with the different aspects of the case, 
 and turned them the other way. By a tour de force 
 she actually persuaded herself that her own plan was 
 not really attractive to her. But what heart-breaks 
 and tears this cost her, only those who in their youth 
 have encountered such absolute negations of cherished 
 ideas can guess. 
 
 Then Thorpe told her. 
 
 " I've fixed it, Helen," said he. " Yon can attend 
 the High School and the classes, if you please. I have 
 put the two hundred and fifty dollars out at interest 
 for you." 
 
 " Oh, Harry! " she cried reproachfully. " Why didnt 
 you tell me before 1 " 
 
 He did not understand; but the pleasure o! it had 
 all faded. She no longer felt enthusiasm, nor grati- 
 tude, nor anything except a dull feeling that she had 
 been unnecessarily discouraged. And on his sidt 
 Thorpe was vaguely wounded. 
 
 The days, however, passed in the main pleasurably 
 for them both. They were fond of one another. The 
 barrier slowly rising between them was not yet 
 cemented by lack of affection on either side, but 
 father by lack of belief in the other's affection, Helen 
 taiagined Thorpe's interest in her becoming daily mar*
 
 io8 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 perfunctory. Thorpe fancied his sister cold, unreasoa 
 ing, and ungrateful. As yet this was but the vague 
 dust of a cloud. They could not forget that, but for 
 each other, they were alone in the world. Thorpe 
 delayed his departure from day to day, making all 
 the preparations he possibly could at home. 
 
 Finally Helen came on him busily unpacking a 
 box which a dray had left at the door. He unwound 
 and laid one side a Winchester rifle, a variety of fishing 
 tackle, and some other miscellanies of the woodsman. 
 Helen was struck by the beauty of the sporting imple- 
 ments. 
 
 " Oh, Harry! H she cried, " aren't they fine! What 
 are you going to do with them ? " 
 
 " Going camping," replied Thorpe, his head in the 
 excelsior. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "This summer." 
 
 Helen's eyes lit up with a fire of delight ** How 
 nice! May I go with you?" she cried. 
 
 Thorpe shook his head. 
 
 " I'm afraid not, little girl. It's going to be a hard 
 trip a long ways from anywhere. You couldn't stand 
 it* 
 
 Trn sure I could. Try me." 
 
 * No," replied Thorpe. ** I know you couldn't 
 Well be sleeping on the ground and going on foot 
 through much extremely difficult country." 
 
 " I wish you'd take me somewhere," pursued Helen. 
 " I can't get away this summer unless you do. Why 
 don't you camp somewhere nearer home, so I can 
 go?" 
 
 Thorpe arose and kissed her tenderly. He was ex- 
 tremely sorry that he could not spend the summer with 
 his sister, but he believed likewise that their future 
 depended to a great extent on this very trip. But be 
 iia not tay x
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 ""I can't, little girl; that's all We've got our way 
 to make." 
 
 She understood that he considered the trip too ex- 
 pensive for them both. At this moment a paper flut 
 tered from the excelsior. She picked it up. A glance 
 showed her a total of figures that made her gasp. 
 
 " Here is your bill," she said with a strange choke 
 hi her voice, and left the room. 
 
 *' He can spend sixty dollars on his old guns ; but 
 he can't afford to let me leave this hateful house," 
 she complained to the apple tree. " He can go 'way 
 off camping somewhere to have a good time, but he 
 leaves me sweltering in this miserable little town all 
 summer. I don't care if he is supporting me. He 
 ought to. He's my brother. Oh, I wish I were a 
 man; I wish I were dead!" 
 
 Three days later Thorpe left for the north. He 
 was reluctant to go. When the time came, he at- 
 tempted to kiss Helen good-by. She caught sight of 
 the rifle in its new leather and canvas case, and on 
 a sudden impulse which she could not explain to her- 
 self, she turned away her face and ran into the house. 
 Thorpe, vaguely hurt, a little resentful, as the genu- 
 inely misunderstood are apt to be, hesitated a moment, 
 then trudged down the street. Helen too paused at 
 the door, choking back her grief. 
 
 " Harry! Harry! " she cried wildly; btrt it was too 
 late. 
 
 Both felt themselves to be in the right. Each real- 
 ized this fact in the other. Each recognized the im- 
 possibility of imposing his own point of tiew over the 
 other's.
 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL 
 
 r 
 
 Part II 
 The Landlooker
 
 Chapter XVI 
 
 /N every direction the woods. Not an opening of 
 any kind offered the mind a breathing place under 
 the free sky. Sometimes the pine groves, vast, 
 solemn, grand, with the patrician aloofness of the truly 
 great; sometimes the hardwood, bright, mysterious, 
 full of life; sometimes the swamps, dark, dank, 
 speaking with the voices of the shyer creatures ; some- 
 times the spruce and balsam thickets, aromatic, 
 enticing. But never the clear, open sky. 
 
 And always the woods creatures, in startling abun- 
 dance and tameness. The solitary man with the pack- 
 straps across his forehead and shoulders had never 
 seen so many of them. They withdrew silently before 
 him as he advanced. They accompanied him on 
 either side, watching him with intelligent, bright eyes. 
 They followed him stealthily for a little distance, as 
 though escorting him out of their own particular ter- 
 ritory. Dozens of times a day the traveller glimpsed 
 the flaunting white flags of deer. Often the creatures 
 would take but a few hasty jumps, and then would 
 wheel, the beautiful embodiments of the picture deer, 
 to snort and paw the leaves. Hundreds of birds, of 
 which he did not know the name, stooped to his in- 
 spection, whirred away at his approach, or went about 
 tneir business with hardy indifference under his very 
 eyes. Blase porcupines trundled superbly from his 
 path. Once a mother-partridge simulated a broken 
 wing, fluttering painfully. Early one morning the 
 traveller ran plump on a fat lolling bear, taking his 
 ease from the new sun, and his meal from a panic- 
 in
 
 *14 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 rtricken army of ants. As beseemed two innocent 
 wayfarers they honored each other with a salute of 
 surprise, and went their way. And all about and 
 through, weaving, watching, moving like spirits, were 
 the forest multitudes which the young man never saw, 
 but which he divined, and of whose movements he 
 sometimes caught for a single instant the faintest pat- 
 ter or rustle. It constituted the mystery of the forest, 
 that great fascinating, lovable mystery which, once it 
 steals into the heart of a man, has always a hearing 
 and a longing when it makes its voice heard. 
 
 The young man's equipment was simple in the ex- 
 treme. Attached to a heavy leather belt of cartridges 
 hung a two-pound ax and a sheath knife. In his 
 pocket reposed a compass, an air-tight tin of matches, 
 and a map drawn on oiled paper of a district divided 
 into sections. Some few of the sections were colored, 
 which indicated that they belonged to private parties. 
 All the rest was State or Government land. He car- 
 ried in his hand a repeating rifle. The pack, if opened, 
 would have been found to contain a woolen and a rub- 
 ber blanket, fishing tackle, twenty pounds or so of 
 flour, a package of tea, sugar, a slab of bacon carefully 
 wrapped in oiled cloth, salt, a suit of underwear, and 
 several extra pairs of thick stockings. To the out- 
 side of the pack had been strapped a frying pan, a tin 
 pail, and a cup. 
 
 For more than a week Thorpe had journeyed 
 through the forest without meeting a human being, 
 or seeing any indications of man, excepting always 
 the old blaze of the government survey. Many years 
 before, officials had run careless lines through the 
 country along the section-boundaries. At this time 
 the blazes were so weather-beaten that Thorpe often 
 found difficulty in deciphering the indications marked 
 on them. These latter stated always the section, the 
 township, and the range east or west by number. All
 
 THfc BLAZED TRAIL 115 
 
 ihorpe had to do was to find the same figures on his 
 map. He knew just where he was. By means of his 
 compass he could lay his course to any point that 
 suited his convenience. 
 
 The map he had procured at the United States Land 
 Office in Detroit. He had set out with the scanty 
 equipment just described for the purpose of " looking " 
 a suitable bunch of pine in the northern peninsula, 
 which, at that time, was practically untouched. Ac- 
 cess to its interior could be obtained only on foot or 
 by river. The South Shore Railroad was already en- 
 gaged in pushing a way through the virgin forest, but 
 it had as yet penetrated only as far as Seney; and after 
 all, had been projected more with the idea of estab- 
 lishing a direct route to Duluth and the copper dis- 
 tricts than to aid the lumber industry. Marquette, 
 Menominee, and a few smaller places along the coast 
 were lumbering near at home; but they shipped en- 
 tirely by water. Although the rest of the peninsula 
 also was finely wooded, a general impression obtained 
 among the craft that it would prove too inaccessible 
 for successful operation. 
 
 Furthermore, at that period, a great deal of talk 
 was believed as to the inexhaustibility of Michigan 
 pine. Men in a position to know what they were 
 talking about stated dogmatically that the forests of 
 the southern peninsula would be adequate for a great 
 many years to come. Furthermore, the magnificent 
 timber of the Saginaw, Muskegon, and Grand River 
 valleys in the southern peninsula occupied entire 
 attention. No one cared to bother about property 
 at so great a distance from home. As a consequence, 
 few as yet knew even the extent of the resources so 
 far north. 
 
 Thorpe, however, with the far-sightedness of the 
 born pioneer, had perceived that the exploitation of 
 the upper country was an affair of a few years only.
 
 It6 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The forests of southern Michigan were vast, but not 
 limitless; and they had all passed into private owner- 
 ship. The north, on the other hand, would not prove 
 as inaccessible as it now seemed, for the carrying trade 
 would some day realize that the entire waterway of 
 the Great Lakes offered an unrivalled outlet. With 
 that elementary discovery would begin a rush to th 
 new country. Tiring of a profitless employment fur- 
 ther south he resolved to anticipate it, and by acquir- 
 ing his holdings before general attention should be 
 turned that way, to obtain of the best. 
 
 He was without money, and practically without 
 friends; while Government and State lands cost re- 
 spectively two dollars and a half and a dollar and a 
 quarter an acre, cash down. But he relied on the 
 good sense of capitalists to perceive, from the statis- 
 tics which his explorations would furnish, the wonder- 
 ful advantage of logging a new country with the chain 
 of Great Lakes as shipping outlet at its very door. In 
 return for his information, he would expect a half in- 
 terest in the enterprise. This is the usual method of 
 procedure adopted by landlookers everywhere. 
 
 We have said that the country was quite new to 
 logging, but the statement is not strictly accurate, 
 Thorpe was by no means the first to see the money 
 in northern pine. Outside the big mill districts al- 
 ready named, cuttings of considerable size were al- 
 ready under way, the logs from which were usually 
 sold to the mills of Marquette or Menominee. Here 
 and there along the best streams, men had already 
 begun operations. 
 
 But they worked on a small scale and with an eye 
 to the immediate present only; bending their efforts 
 to as large a cut as possible each season rather than 
 to the acquisition of holdings for future operations. 
 This they accomplished naively by purchasing one 
 forty and cutting a dozen. Thorpe's map showed
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 117 
 
 often near the forks of an important stream a section 
 whose coloring indicated private possession. Legally 
 the owners had the right only to the pine included iff 
 the marked sections; but if anyone had taken the 
 trouble to visit the district, he would have found oper- 
 ations going on for miles up and down stream. The 
 colored squares would prove to be nothing but so 
 many excuses for being on the ground. The bulk 
 of the pine of any season's cut he would discover 
 had been stolen from unbought State or Government 
 land. 
 
 This in the old days was a common enough trick. 
 One man, at present a wealthy and respected citizen, 
 cut for six years, and owned just one forty-acres I 
 Another logged nearly fifty million feet from an 
 eighty ! In the State to-day live prominent business 
 men, looked upon as models in every way, good fel- 
 lows, good citizens, with sons and daughters proud 
 of their social position, who, nevertheless, made the 
 bulk of their fortunes by stealing Government pine. 
 
 " What you want to-day, old man ? " inquired a 
 wholesale lumber dealer of an individual whose name 
 now stands for domestic and civic virtue. 
 
 " I'll have five or six million saw logs to sell you 
 in the spring, and I want to know what you'll give 
 for them." 
 
 " Go on ! " expostulated the dealer with a laugh 
 " ain't you got that forty all cut yet? " 
 
 " She holds out pretty well," replied the other with 
 a grin. 
 
 An official, called the Inspector, is supposed to re- 
 port such stealings, after which another official is to 
 prosecute. Aside from the fact that the danger of 
 discovery is practically zero in so wild and distant a 
 country, it is fairly well established that the old-time 
 logger found these two individuals susceptible to flv 
 gentle art oi " sugaring." The officials, as wen as C3?
 
 ii8 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 lumberman, became rich. If worst came to worst, 
 and investigation seemed imminent, the operator 
 could still purchase the land at legal rates, and so 
 escape trouble. But the intention to appropriate was 
 there, and, to confess the truth, the whitewashing by 
 purchase needed but rarely to be employed. I have 
 time and again heard landlookers assert that the old 
 Land Offices were rarely " on the square," but as to 
 that I cannot, of course, venture an opinion. 
 
 Thorpe was perfectly conversant with this state of 
 affairs. He knew, also, that in all probability many 
 of the colored districts on his map represented firms 
 engaged in steals of greater or less magnitude. He 
 was further aware that most of the concerns stole the 
 timber because it was cheaper to steal than to buy; 
 but that they would buy readily enough if forced to 
 do so in order to prevent its acquisition by another. 
 This other might be himself. In his exploration, 
 therefore, he decided to employ the utmost circum- 
 spection. As much as possible he purposed to avoid 
 other men ; but if meetings became inevitable, he hoped 
 to mask his real intentions. He would pose as a 
 hunter and fisherman. 
 
 During the course of his week in the woods, he 
 discovered that he would be forced eventually to resort 
 to this expedient. He encountered quantities of fine 
 timber in the country through which he travelled, and 
 some day it would be logged, but at present the diffi- 
 culties were too great. The streams were shallow, 
 or they did not empty into a good shipping port. In- 
 vestors would naturally look first for holdings along 
 the more practicable routes. 
 
 A cursory glance sufficed to show that on such 
 waters the little red squares had already blocked a 
 foothold for other owners. Thorpe surmised that he 
 would undoubtedly discover fine unbought timber 
 along their banks, but that the men already engaged
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 119 
 
 in stealing it would hardly be likely to allow him 
 peaceful acquisition. 
 
 For a week, then, he journeyed through magnificent 
 timber without finding what he sought, working al- 
 ways more and more to the north, until finally he stood 
 on the shores of Superior. Up to now the streams 
 had not suited him. He resolved to follow the shore 
 west to the mouth of a fairly large river called the 
 Ossawinamakee.* It showed, in common with most 
 streams of its size, land already taken, but Thorpe 
 hoped to find good timber nearer the mouth. After 
 several days' hard walking with this object in view, 
 he found himself directly north of a bend in the river; 
 so, without troubling to hunt for its outlet into Su- 
 perior, he turned through the woods due south, with 
 the intention of striking in on the stream. This he 
 succeeded in accomplishing some twenty miles inland, 
 where also he discovered a well-defined and recently 
 used trail leading up the river. Thorpe camped 
 one night at the bend, and then set out to follow the 
 trail. 
 
 It led him for upwards of ten miles nearly due south, 
 sometimes approaching, sometimes leaving the river, 
 but keeping always in its direction. The country in 
 general was rolling. Low parallel ridges of gentle 
 declivity glided constantly across his way, their val- 
 leys sloping to the river. Thorpe had never seen a 
 grander forest of pine than that which clothed them. 
 
 For almost three miles, after the young man had 
 passed through a preliminary jungle of birch, cedar, 
 spruce, and hemlock, it ran without a break, clear, 
 clean, of cloud-sweeping altitude, without underbrush. 
 Most of it was good bull-sap, which is known by the 
 fineness of the bark, though often in the hollows it 
 shaded gradually into the rough-skinned cork pine. 
 In those days few people paid any attention to the 
 
 * Accent the last syllable.
 
 120 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Norway, and hemlock was not even thought of. With 
 every foot of the way Thorpe became more and more 
 impressed. 
 
 At first the grandeur, the remoteness, the solemnity 
 of the virgin forest fell on his spirit with a kind of awe. 
 The tall, straight trunks lifted directly upwards to the 
 vaulted screen through which the sky seemed as re- 
 mote as the ceiling of a Roman church. Ravens 
 wheeled and croaked in the blue, but infinitely far 
 away. Some lesser noises wove into the stillness 
 without breaking the web of its splendor, for the pine 
 silence laid soft, hushing fingers on the lips of those 
 who might waken the sleeping sunlight. 
 
 Then the spirit of the pioneer stirred within his soul. 
 The wilderness sent forth its old-time challenge to the 
 hardy. In him awoke that instinct which, without 
 itself perceiving the end on which it is bent, clears the 
 way for the civilization that has been ripening in old- 
 world hot-houses during a thousand years. Men 
 must eat; and so the soil must be made productive. 
 We regret, each after his manner, the passing of the 
 Indian, the buffalo, the great pine forests, for they 
 are of the picturesque; but we live gladly on the 
 product of the farms that have taken their places. 
 Southern Michigan was once a pine forest: now the 
 twisted stump-fences about the most fertile farms of 
 the north alone break the expanse of prairie and of 
 trim " wood-lots." 
 
 Thorpe knew little of this, and cared less. These 
 feathered trees, standing close-ranked and yet each 
 isolate in the dignity and gravity of a sphinx of stone, 
 set to dancing his blood of the frontiersman. He 
 spread out his map to make sure that so valuable a 
 clump of timber remained still unclaimed. A few 
 sections lying near the headwaters were all he found 
 marked as sold. He resumed his tramp light-heart- 
 edly.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 121 
 
 At the ten-mile point he came upon a dam. It was 
 a crude dam, built of logs, whose face consisted 
 of strong buttresses slanted up-stream, and whose 
 sheer was made of unbarked timbers laid smoothly 
 side by side at the required angle. At present its gate 
 was open. Thorpe could see that it was an unusually 
 large gate, with a powerful apparatus for the raising 
 and the lowering of it. 
 
 The purpose of the dam in this new country did not 
 puzzle him in the least, but its presence bewildered 
 him. Such constructions are often thrown across 
 logging streams at proper intervals in order that the 
 operator may be independent of the spring freshets. 
 When he wishes to " drive " his logs to the mouth of 
 the stream, he first accumulates a head of water be- 
 hind his dams, and then, by lifting the gates, creates 
 an artificial freshet sufficient to float his timber to the 
 pool formed by the next dam below. The device is 
 common enough; but it is expensive. People do not 
 build dams except in the certainty of some years of 
 logging, and quite extensive logging at that. If the 
 stream happens to be navigable, the promoter must 
 first get an Improvement Charter from a board of 
 control appointed by the State. So Thorpe knew that 
 he had to deal, not with a hand-to-mouth-timber-thief, 
 but with a great company preparing to log the country 
 on a big scale. 
 
 He continued his journey. At noon he came to 
 another and similar structure. The pine forest had 
 yielded to knolls of hardwood separated by swamp- 
 holes of blackthorn. Here he left his pack and pushed 
 ahead in light marching order. About eight miles 
 above the first dam, and eighteen from the bend of 
 the river, he ran into a " slashing " of the year before. 
 The decapitated stumps were already beginning to 
 turn brown with weather, the tangle of tops and limbs 
 was partially concealed by poplar growths and wild
 
 122 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 raspberry vines. Parenthetically, it may be remarked 
 that the promptitude with which these growths suc- 
 ceed the cutting of the pine is an inexplicable marvel. 
 Gear forty acres at random in the very center of a 
 pine forest, without a tract of poplar within an hun- 
 dred miles; the next season will bring up the fresh 
 shoots. Some claim that blue jays bring the seeds in 
 their crops. Others incline to the theory that the 
 creative elements lie dormant in the soil, needing only 
 the sun to start them to life. Final speculation is 
 impossible, but the fact stands. 
 
 To Thorpe this particular clearing became at once 
 of the greatest interest. He scrambled over and 
 through the ugly debris which for a year or two after 
 logging operations cumbers the ground. By a rather 
 prolonged search he found what he sought, the/ 
 " section corners " of the tract, on which the govern- 
 ment surveyor had long ago marked the " descrip- 
 tions." A glance at the map confirmed his suspicions. 
 The slashing lay some two miles north of the sections 
 designated as belonging to private parties. It was 
 Government land. 
 
 Thorpe sat down, lit a pipe, and did a little thinking. 
 
 As an axiom it may be premised that the shorter 
 the distance logs have to be transported, the less it 
 costs to get them in. Now Thorpe had that very 
 morning passed through beautiful timber lying much 
 nearer the mouth of the river than either this, or the 
 sections further south. Why had these men delib- 
 ^erately ascended the stream? Why had they stolen 
 timber eighteen miles from the bend, when they could 
 'equally well have stolen just as good fourteen miles 
 nearer the terminus of their drive? 
 
 Thorpe ruminated for some time without hitting 
 upon a solution. Then suddenly he remembered the 
 two dams, and his idea that the men in charge of the 
 river must be wealthy and must intend operating on
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 123 
 
 a large scale. He thought he glimpsed it. After an- 
 other pipe, he felt sure. 
 
 The Unknowns were indeed going in on a large 
 scale. They intended eventually to log the whole of 
 the Ossawinamakee basin. For this reason they had 
 made their first purchase, planted their first foot-hold, 
 near the headwaters. Furthermore, located as they 
 were far from a present or an immediately future civ- 
 ilization, they had felt safe in leaving for the moment 
 their holdings represented by the three sections al- 
 ready described. Some day they would buy all the 
 standing Government pine in the basin ; but in the 
 meantime they would steal all they could at a sufficient 
 distance from the lake to minimize the danger of dis 
 covery. They had not dared to appropriate the three- 
 mile tract Thorpe had passed through, because in that 
 locality the theft would probably be remarked, so they 
 intended eventually to buy it. Until that should be- 
 come necessary, however, every stick cut meant so 
 much less to purchase. 
 
 " They're going to cut, and keep on cutting, work- 
 ing down river as fast as they can," argued Thorpe. 
 " If anything happens so they have to, they'll buy in 
 the pine that is left; but if things go well with them, 
 they'll take what they can for nothing. They're get- 
 ting this stuff out up-river first, because they can steal 
 safer while the country is still unsettled; and even 
 when it does fill up, there will not be much likelihood 
 of an investigation so far in-country, at least until 
 after they have folded their tents." 
 
 It seems to us who are accustomed to the accurate 
 policing of our twentieth century, almost incredible 
 that such wholesale robberies should have gone on 
 with so little danger of detection. Certainly detection 
 was a matter of sufficient simplicity. Someone hap- 
 pens along, like Thorpe, carrying a Government map 
 in his pocket. He runs across a parcel of unclaimed
 
 124 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 land already cut over. It would seem easy to lodge 
 a complaint, institute a prosecution against the men 
 known to have put in the timber. But it is almost 
 never done. 
 
 Thorpe knew that men occupied in so precarious a 
 business would be keenly on the watch. At the first 
 hint of rivalry, they would buy in the timber they had 
 selected. But the situation had set his fighting blood 
 to racing. The very fact that these men were thieves 
 on so big a scale made him the more obstinately de- 
 termined to thwart them. They undoubtedly wanted 
 the tract down river. Well, so did he! 
 
 He purposed to look it over carefully, to ascertain 
 its exact boundaries and what sections it would be 
 necessary to buy in order to include it, and perhaps 
 even to estimate it in a rough way. In the accom- 
 plishment of this he would have to spend the summer, 
 and perhaps part of the fall, in that district. He could 
 hardly expect to escape notice. By the indications 
 on the river, he judged that a crew of men had shortly 
 before taken out a drive of logs. After the timber 
 had been rafted and towed to Marquette, they would 
 feturn. He might be able to hide in the forest, but 
 sooner or later, he was sure, one of the company's 
 landlookers or hunters would stumble on his camp. 
 Then his very concealment would tell them what he 
 was after. The risk was too great. For above all 
 things Thorpe needed time. He had, as has been said, 
 to ascertain what he could offer. Then he had to 
 offer it. He would be forced to interest capital, and 
 that is a matter of persuasion and leisure. 
 
 Finally his shrewd, intuitive good-sense flashed the 
 solution on him. He returned rapidly to his pack, 
 assumed the straps, and arrived at the first dam about 
 dark of the long summer day. 
 
 There he looked carefully about him. Some fifty 
 feet from the water's edge a birch knoll supported,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 125 
 
 besides the birches, a single big hemlock. With his 
 belt ax, Thorpe cleared away the little white trees. 
 He stuck the sharpened end of one of them in the bark 
 of the shaggy hemlock, fastened the other end in a 
 crotch eight or ten feet distant, slanted the rest of the 
 saplings along one side of this ridge pole, and turned 
 in, after a hasty supper, leaving the completion of his 
 permanent camp to the morrow.
 
 Chapter XVII 
 
 /N the morning he thatched smooth the roof of 
 the shelter, using for the purpose the thick 
 branches of hemlocks; placed two green spruce 
 logs side by side as cooking range; slung his pot on 
 a rod across two forked sticks; cut and split a quan- 
 tity of wood; spread his blankets; and called himself 
 established. His beard was already well grown, and 
 his clothes had become worn by the brush and faded 
 by the sun and rain. In the course of the morning 
 he lay in wait very patiently near a spot overflowed 
 by the river, where, the day before, he had noticed 
 lily-pads growing. After a time a doe and a spotted 
 fawn came and stood ankle-deep in the water, and ate 
 of the lily-pads. Thorpe lurked motionless behind his 
 screen of leaves; and as he had taken the precaution 
 so to station himself that his hiding-place lay down- 
 wind, the beautiful animals were unaware of his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 By and by a prong-buck joined them. He was a 
 two-year-old, young, tender, with the velvet just off 
 his antlers. Thorpe aimed at his shoulder, six inches 
 above the belly-line, and pressed the trigger. As 
 though by enchantment the three woods creatures dis- 
 appeared. But the hunter had noticed that, whereas 
 the doe and fawn flourished bravely the broad white 
 flags of their tails, the buck had seemed but a streak 
 of brown. By this he knew he had hit. 
 
 Sure enough, after two hundred yards of following 
 the prints of sharp hoofs and occasional gobbets of 
 blood on the leaves, he came upon his prey dead. It 
 
 126
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 127 
 
 became necessary to transport the animal to camp. 
 Thorpe stuck his hunting- knife deep into the front of 
 the deer's chest, where the neck joins, which allowed 
 most of the blood to drain away. Then he fastened 
 wild grape vines about the antlers, and, with a little 
 exertion drew the body after him as though it had 
 been a toboggan. 
 
 It slid more easily than one would imagine, along 
 the grain ; but not as easily as by some other methods 
 with which Thorpe was unfamiliar. 
 
 At camp he skinned the deer, cut most of the meat 
 into thin strips which he salted and placed in the sun 
 to dry, and hung the remainder in a cool arbor of 
 boughs. The hide he suspended over a pole. 
 
 All these things he did hastily, as though he might 
 be in a hurry ; as indeed he was. 
 
 At noon he cooked himself a venison steak and 
 some tea. Then with his hatchet he cut several small 
 pine poles, which he fashioned roughly in a number 
 of shapes and put aside for the future. The brains of 
 the deer, saved for the purpose, he boiled with water 
 in his tin pail, wishing it were larger. With the liquor 
 thus obtained he intended later to remove the hair and 
 grain from the deer hide. Toward evening he caught 
 a dozen trout in the pool below the dam. These he 
 ate for supper. 
 
 Next day he spread the buck's hide out on the 
 ground and drenched it liberally with the product of 
 deer-brains. Later the hide was soaked in the river, 
 after which, by means of a rough two-handled spatula, 
 Thorpe was enabled after much labor to scrape away 
 entirely the hair and grain. He cut from the edge of 
 the hide a number of long strips of raw-hide, but 
 anointed the body of the skin liberally with the brain 
 liquor. 
 
 " Glad I don't have to do that every day! " he com- 
 mented, wiping his brow with &e back of his wrist.
 
 128 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 As t e skin dried he worked and kneaded it to soft- 
 ness. The result was a fair quality of white buckskin, 
 the first Thorpe had ever made. If wetted, it would 
 harden dry and stiff. Thorough smoking in the fumes 
 of punk maple would obviate this, but that detail 
 Thorpe left until later. 
 
 " I don't know whether it's all necessary," he said 
 to himself doubtfully, " but if you're going to assume 
 a disguise, let it be a good one." 
 
 In the meantime, he had bound together with his 
 rawhide thongs several of the oddly shaped pine tim- 
 bers to form a species of dead-fall trap. It was slow 
 work, for Thorpe's knowledge of such things was the- 
 oretical. He had learned his theory well, however, 
 and in the end arrived. 
 
 All this time he had made no effort to look over 
 the pine, nor did he intend to begin until he could 
 be sure of doing so in safety. His object now was 
 to give his knoll the appearances of a trapper's 
 camp. 
 
 Towards the end of the week he received his first 
 visit. Evening was drawing on, and Thorpe was bus- 
 fly engaged in cooking a panful of trout, resting the 
 frying pan across the two green spruce logs between 
 which glowed the coals. Suddenly he became aware 
 of a presence at his side. How it had reached the 
 spot he could not imagine, for he had heard no ap- 
 proach. He looked up quickly. 
 
 " How do," greeted the newcomer gravely. 
 
 The man was an Indian, silent, solemn, with the 
 straight, unwinking gaze of his race. 
 
 " How do," replied Thorpe. 
 
 The Indian without further ceremony threw his pack 
 to the ground, and, squatting on his heels, watched 
 the white man's preparations. When the meal was 
 cooked, he coolly produced a knife, selected a clean 
 bit of hemlock bark, and helped himself. Then he lit
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 129 
 
 a pipe, and gazed keenly about him. The buckskin 
 interested him. 
 
 " No good," said he, feeling of its texture. 
 
 Thorpe laughed. " Not very," he confessed. 
 
 " Good," continued the Indian, touching lightly his 
 own moccasins. 
 
 " What you do ? " he inquired after a long silence, 
 punctuated by the puffs of tobacco. 
 
 " Hunt ; trap ; fish," replied Thorpe with equal sen- 
 tentiousness. 
 
 " Good," concluded the Indian, after a ruminative 
 pause. 
 
 That night he slept on the ground. Next day he 
 made a better shelter than Thorpe's in less than half 
 the time; and was off hunting before the sun was an 
 hour high. He was armed with an old-fashioned 
 smooth-bore muzzle-loader; and Thorpe was aston- 
 ished, after he had become better acquainted with his 
 new companion's methods, to find that he hunted deer 
 with fine bird shot. The Indian never expected to 
 kill or even mortally wound his game; but he would 
 follow for miles the blood drops caused by his little 
 wounds, until the animals in sheer exhaustion allowed 
 him to approach close enough for a dispatching blow. 
 At two o'clock he returned with a small buck, tied 
 scientifically together for toting, with the waste parts 
 cut away, but every ounce of utility retained. 
 
 "I show," said the Indian: and he did. Thorpe 
 learned the Indian tan; of what use are the hollow 
 shank bones ; how the spinal cord is the toughest, soft- 
 est, and most pliable sewing-thread known. 
 
 The Indian appeared to intend making the birch- 
 knoll his permanent headquarters. Thorpe was at 
 first a little suspicious of his new companion, but the 
 man appeared scrupulously honest, was never in- 
 trusive, and even seemed genuinely desirous of teach- 
 ing the white little tricks of the woods brought to their
 
 130 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Cerfection by the Indian alone. He ended by liking 
 im. The two rarely spoke. They merely sat near 
 each other, and smoked. One evening the Indian 
 suddenly remarked: 
 
 " You look 'urn tree." 
 
 " What's that? " cried Thorpe, startled. 
 
 " You no hunter, no trapper. You look 'um tree, 
 for make 'um lumber." 
 
 The white had not begun as yet his explorations. 
 He did not dare until the return of the logging crew 
 or the passing of someone in authority at the up-river 
 camp, for he wished first to establish in their mind* 
 the innocence of his intentions. 
 
 " What makes you think that, Charley? " he asked, 
 
 " You good man in woods," replied Injin Charley 
 sententiously, " I tell by way you look at him pine." 
 
 Thorpe ruminated. 
 
 " Charley," said he, " why are you staying here with 
 me?" 
 
 " Big frien'," replied the Indian promptly. 
 
 " Why are you my friend ? What have I ever done 
 for you?" 
 
 " You gottum chief's eye," replied his companion 
 with simplicity. 
 
 Thorpe looked at the Indian again. There seemed 
 to be only one course. 
 
 " Yes, I'm a lumberman," he confessed, " and I'm 
 looking for pine. But, Charley, the men up the river 
 must not know what I'm after." 
 
 " They gettum pine," interjected the Indian like a 
 dash. 
 
 " Exactly," replied Thorpe, surprised afresh at the 
 Other's perspicacity. 
 
 "Good!" ejaculated Injin Charley, and fell silent. 
 
 With this, the longest conversation the two had at- 
 tempted in their peculiar acquaintance, Thorpe was 
 forced to be content. He was, however, ill at ease
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 131 
 
 over the incident. It added an element of uncertainty 
 to an already precarious position. 
 
 Three days later he was intensely thankful the con* 
 versation had taken place. 
 
 After the noon meal he lay on his blanket under the 
 hemlock shelter, smoking and lazily watching Injin 
 Charley busy at the side of the trail. The Indian had 
 terminated a long two days' search by toting from the 
 forest a number of strips of the outer bark of white 
 birch, in its green state pliable as cotton, thick as 
 leather, and light as air. These he had cut into ar- 
 bitrary patterns known only to himself, and was now 
 sewing as a long shapeless sort of bag or sac to a 
 slender beech-wood oval. Later it was to become a 
 birch-bark canoe, and the beech-wood oval would be 
 the gunwale. 
 
 So idly intent was Thorpe on this piece of construc- 
 tion that he did not notice the approach of two men 
 from the down-stream side. They were short, alert 
 men, plodding along with the knee-bent persistency 
 of the woods-walker, dressed in broad hats, flannel 
 shirts, coarse trousers tucked in high laced " cruis- 
 ers " ; and carrying each a bulging meal sack looped 
 by a cord across the shoulders and chest. Both were 
 armed with long slender sealer's rules. The first in- 
 timation Thorpe received of the presence of these two 
 men was the sound of their voices addressing Injin 
 Charley. 
 
 " Hullo Charley," said one of them, " what you 
 doing here? Ain't seen you since th' Sturgeon dis- 
 trict" 
 
 " Mak' 'urn canoe," replied Charley rather ob- 
 viously. 
 
 " So I see. But what you expect to get in this God- 
 forsaken country? " 
 
 " Beaver, muskrat, mink, otter." 
 
 "Trapping, eh?" The man gazed keenly at
 
 132 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Thorpe s recumbent figure. " Who's the other fel- 
 low?" 
 
 Thorpe held his breath; then exhaled it in a long 
 sigh of relief. 
 
 " Him white man," Injin Charley was replying, 
 " him hunt too. He mak' 'um buckskin." 
 
 The landlooker arose lazily and sauntered toward 
 the group. It was part of his plan to be well recog- 
 nized so that in the future he might arouse no sus- 
 picions. 
 
 " Howdy," he drawled, " got any smokin'? " 
 
 " How are you," replied one of the sealers, eying 
 him sharply, and tendering his pouch. Thorpe filled 
 his pipe deliberately, and returned it with a heavy- 
 lidded glance of thanks. To all appearances he was 
 one of the lazy, shiftless white hunters of the back- 
 woods. Seized with an inspiration, he said, " What 
 sort of chances is they at your camp for a little flour ? 
 Me and Charley's about out. I'll bring you meat; or 
 I'll make you boys moccasins. I got some good 
 buckskin." 
 
 It was the usual proposition. 
 
 " Pretty good, I guess. Come up and see," ad- 
 vised the sealer. " The crew's right behind us." 
 
 " I'll send up Charley," drawled Thorpe, " I'm busy 
 now makin' traps," he waved his pipe, calling atten- 
 tion to the pine and rawhide dead-falls. 
 
 They chatted a few moments, practically and with 
 an eye to the strict utility of things about them, as 
 became woodsmen. Then two wagons creaked lurch- 
 ing by, followed by fifteen or twenty men. The last 
 of these, evidently the foreman, was joined by the two 
 sealers. 
 
 "What's that outfit?" he inquired with the sharp- 
 ness of suspicion. 
 
 " Old Injin Charley you remember, the old boy 
 that tanned that buck for you down on Cedar Creek."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 133 
 
 ** Yes, but the other fellow." 
 
 " Oh, a hunter," replied the sealer carelessly. 
 
 " Sure? " 
 
 The man laughed. " Couldn't be nothin' else," he 
 asserted with confidence. " Regular old backwoods 
 mossback." 
 
 At the same time Injin Charley was setting about 
 the splitting of a cedar log. 
 
 " You see," he remarked, " I big frien'."
 
 Chapter XVIII 
 
 /N the days that followed, Thorpe cruised about- 
 the great woods. It was slow business, but fasci- 
 nating. He knew that when he should embark 
 on his attempt to enlist considerable capital in an " un- 
 sight unseen " investment, he would have to be well 
 supplied with statistics. True, he was not much of a 
 timber estimator, nor did he know the methods usually 
 employed, but his experience, observation, and read- 
 ing had developed a latent sixth sense by which he 
 could appreciate quality, difficulties of logging, and 
 such kindred practical matters. 
 
 First of all he walked over the country at large, to 
 find where the best timber lay. This was a matter of 
 tramping; though often on an elevation he succeeded 
 in climbing a tall tree whence he caught bird's-eye 
 views of the country at large. He always carried his 
 gun with him, and was prepared at a moment's notice 
 to seem engaged in hunting, either for game or for 
 spots in which later to set his traps. The expedient 
 was, however, unnecessary. 
 
 Next he ascertained the geographical location of 
 the different clumps and forests, entering the sections, 
 the quarter-sections, even the separate forties in his 
 note-book ; taking in only the " descriptions " contain- 
 ing the best pine. 
 
 Finally he wrote accurate notes concerning the 
 topography of each and every pine district, the lay 
 of the land; the hills, ravines, swamps, and valleys; the 
 distance from the river; the character of the soil. In 
 short, he accumulated all the information he could by 
 which the cost of logging might be estimated. 
 
 134
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 135 
 
 The work went much quicker than he had antici- 
 pated, mainly because he could give his entire atten- 
 tion to it. Injin Charley attended to the commissary, 
 with a delight in the process that removed it from the 
 category of work. When it rained, an infrequent 
 occurrence, the two hung Thorpe's rubber blankets 
 before the opening of the driest shelter, and waited 
 philosophically for the weather to clear. Injin 
 Charley had finished the first canoe, and was now 
 leisurely at work on another. Thorpe had filled his 
 note-book with the class of statistics just described. 
 He decided now to attempt an estimate of the timber. 
 
 For this he had really too little experience. He 
 knew it, but determined to do his best. The weak 
 point of his whole scheme lay in that it was going to 
 be impossible for him to allow the prospective pur- 
 chaser a chance of examining the pine. That difficulty 
 Thorpe hoped to overcome by inspiring personal con- 
 fidence in himself. If he failed to do so, he might 
 return with a landlooker whom the investor trusted, 
 and the two could re-enact the comedy of this summer. 
 Thorpe hoped, however, to avoid the necessity. It 
 would be too dangerous. He set about a rough esti- 
 mate of the timber. 
 
 Injin Charley intended evidently to work up a trade 
 in buckskin during the coming winter. Although 
 the skins were in poor condition at this time of the 
 year, he tanned three more, and smoked them. ID 
 the day-time he looked the country over as carefully 
 as did Thorpe. But he ignored the pines, and paid 
 attention only to the hardwood and the beds of little 
 creeks. Injin Charley was in reality a trapper, and 
 he intended to get many fine skins in this promising 
 district. He worked on his tanning and his canoe- 
 making late in the afternoon. 
 
 One evening just at sunset Thorpe was helping the 
 Indian shape his craft. The loose sac of birch-bark
 
 136 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 sewed to the long beech oval was slung between two 
 tripods. Injin Charley had fashioned a number of 
 thin, flexible cedar strips of certain arbitrary lengths 
 and widths. Beginning with the smallest of these, 
 Thorpe and fiis companion were catching one end under 
 the beech oval, bending the strip bow-shape inside the 
 sac, and catching again the other side of the oval. 
 Thus the spring of the bent cedar, pressing against the 
 inside of the birch-bark sac, distended it tightly. The 
 cut of the sac and the length of the cedar strips gave 
 to the canoe its graceful shape. 
 
 The two men bent there at their task, the dull glow 
 of evening falling upon them. Behind them the knoll 
 stood out in picturesque relief against the darker pine, 
 the little shelters, the fire-places of green spruce, 
 the blankets, the guns, a deer's carcass suspended 
 by the feet from a cross pole, the drying buckskin 
 on either side. The river rushed by with a never- 
 ending roar and turmoil. Through its shouting one 
 perceived, as through a mist, the still lofty peace of 
 evening. 
 
 A young fellow, hardly more than a boy, exclaimed 
 with keen delight of the picturesque as his canoe shot 
 around the bend into sight of it. 
 
 The canoe was large and powerful, but well filled. 
 An Indian knelt in the stern ; amidships was well laden 
 with duffle of all descriptions; then the young fellow 
 sat in the bow. He was a bright-faced, eager-eyed, 
 curly-haired young fellow, all enthusiasm and fire. His 
 figure was trim and clean, but rather slender ; and his 
 movements were quick but nervous. When he stepped 
 carefully out on the flat rock to which his guide brought 
 the canoe with a swirl of the paddle, one initiated would 
 have seen that his clothes, while strong and service- 
 able, had been bought from a sporting catalogue. 
 There was a trimness, a neatness, about them. 
 
 " This is a good place," he said to the guide, " well
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 137 
 
 camp here." Then he turned up the steep bank with- 
 out looking back. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he called in a cheerful, unembarrassed 
 fashion to Thorpe and Charley. " How are you? 
 Care if I camp here? What you making? By Jove! 
 I never saw a canoe made before. I'm going to watch 
 you. Keep right at it." 
 
 He sat on one of the outcropping boulders and took 
 off his hat. 
 
 " Say ! you've got a great place here ! You here all 
 summer? Hullo! you've got a deer hanging up. Are 
 there many of 'em around here ? I'd like to kill a deer 
 first rate. I never have. It's sort of out of season now, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 " We only kill the bucks," replied Thorpe. 
 
 " I like fishing, too," went on the boy ; " are there 
 any here? In the pool? John," he called to his guide, 
 " bring me my fishing tackle." 
 
 In a few moments he was whipping the pool with 
 long, graceful drops of the fly. He proved to be adept. 
 Thorpe and Injin Charley stopped work to watch him. 
 At first the Indian's stolid countenance seemed a trifle 
 doubtful. After a time it cleared. 
 
 "Good!" he grunted. 
 
 " You do that well," Thorpe remarked. " Is it diffi- 
 cult?" 
 
 " It takes practice," replied the boy. " See that 
 riffle? " He whipped the fly lightly within six inches 
 of a little suction hole; a fish at once rose and struck. 
 
 The others had been little fellows and easily handled. 
 At the end of fifteen minutes the newcomer landed a 
 fine two-pounder. 
 
 " That must be fun," commented Thorpe. " I never 
 happened to get in with fly-fishing. I'd like to try it 
 sometime." 
 
 "Try it now!" urged the boy, enchanted that be 
 could teach a woodsman anything.
 
 138 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " No," Thorpe declined, " not to-night, to-morrow 
 perhaps." 
 
 The other Indian had by now finished the erection 
 of a tent, and had begun to cook supper over a little 
 sheet-iron camp stove. Thorpe and Charley could 
 smell ham. 
 
 " You've got quite a pantry," remarked Thorpe. 
 
 " Won't you eat with me?" proffered the boy hos- 
 pitably. 
 
 But Thorpe declined. He could, however, see 
 canned goods, hard tack, and condensed milk. 
 
 In the course of the evening the boy approached the 
 older man's camp, and, with a charming diffidence, 
 asked permission to sit awhile at their fire. 
 
 He was full of delight over everything that savored 
 of the woods, or woodscraft. The most trivial and 
 everyday affairs of the life interested him. His eager 
 questions, so frankly proffered, aroused even the taci- 
 turn Charley to eloquence. The construction of the 
 shelter, the cut of a deer's hide, the simple process oi 
 " jerking " venison, all these awakened his enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " It must be good to live in the woods," he said with 
 a sigh, " to do all things for yourself. It's so free! " 
 
 The men's moccasins interested him. He asked a 
 dozen questions about them, how they were ctrt, 
 whether they did not hurt the feet, how long they 
 would wear. He seemed surprised to learn that they 
 are excellent in cold weather. 
 
 " I thought any leather would wet through in the 
 snow! " he cried. " I wish I could get a pair some- 
 where!" he exclaimed. "You don't know where I 
 could buy any, do you? " he asked of Thorpe. 
 
 " I don't know," answered he, " perhaps Charley 
 here will make you a pair." 
 
 " Will you, Charley? " cried the boy. 
 
 " I mak' him," replied the Indian stolidly. \
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 139 
 
 Ttie many-voiced night of the woods descended close 
 about the little camp fire, and its soft breezes wafted 
 stray sparks here and there like errant stars. The 
 newcomer, with shining eyes, breathed deep in satis- 
 faction. He was keenly alive to the romance, the 
 grandeur, the mystery, the beauty of the littlest things, 
 seeming to derive a deep and solid contentment from 
 the mere contemplation of the woods and its ways and 
 creatures. 
 
 " I just do love this ! " he cried again and again, 
 " Oh, it's great, after all that fuss down there! " and he 
 cried it so fervently that the other men present smiled; 
 but so genuinely that the smile had in it nothing but 
 kindliness. 
 
 " I came out for a month," said he suddenly, " and 
 I guess I'll stay the rest of it right here. You'll let 
 me go with you sometimes hunting, won't you? " he 
 appealed to them with the sudden open-heartedness 
 of a child. " I'd like first rate to kill a deer." 
 
 " Sure," said Thorpe, " glad to have you." 
 
 " My name is Wallace Carpenter," said the boy with 
 a sudden unmistakable air of good-breeding. 
 
 " Well," laughed Thorpe, " two old woods loafers 
 like us haven't got much use for names. Charley here 
 is called Geezigut, and mine's nearly as bad; but I 
 guess plain Charley and Harry will do." 
 
 " All right, Harry," replied Wallace. 
 
 After the young fellow had crawled into the sleeping 
 bag which his guide had spread for him over a fragrant 
 layer of hemlock and balsam, Thorpe and his com- 
 panion smoked one more pipe. The whip-poor-wills 
 called back and forth across the river. Down in the 
 thicket, fine, clear, beautiful, like the silver thread of 
 a dream, came the notes of the white-throat trie 
 nightingale of the North. Injin Charley knocked the 
 last ashes from his pipe. 
 
 " Him nice boy! " said he.
 
 Chapter XIX 
 
 rHE young fellow stayed three weeks, and was 
 a constant joy to Thorpe. His enthusiasms 
 were so whole-souled; his delight so perpetual; 
 his interest so fresh! The most trivial expedients of 
 woods lore seemed to him wonderful. A dozen times 
 a day he exclaimed in admiration or surprise over some 
 bit of woodcraft practiced by Thorpe or one of the 
 Indians. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have lived here six weeks 
 and only brought in what you could carry on your 
 backs! " he cried. 
 
 " Sure," Thorpe replied. 
 
 " Harry, you're wonderful ! I've got a whole canoe 
 load, and imagined I was travelling light and roughing 
 it. You beat Robinson Crusoe ! He had a whole ship 
 to draw from." 
 
 " My man Friday helps me out," answered Thorpe, 
 laughingly indicating Injin Charley. 
 
 Nearly a week passed before Wallace managed to 
 kill a deer. The animals were plenty enough; but the 
 young man's volatile and eager attention stole his 
 patience. And what few running shots offered, he 
 missed, mainly because of buck fever. Finally, by a 
 lucky chance, he broke a four-year-old's neck, drop- 
 ping him in his tracks. The hunter was delighted 
 He insisted on doing everything for himself cruel 
 hard work it was too including the toting and skin- 
 ning. Even the tanning he had a share in. At first 
 he wanted the hide cured, " with the hair on." Injia 
 Charley explained that the fur would drop out It 
 was the wrong season of the year for pelts. 
 
 140
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 141 
 
 "Then we'll have buckskin and I'll get a buckskin 
 shirt out of it," suggested Wallace. 
 
 Injin Charley agreed. One day Wallace returned 
 from fishing in the pool to find that the Indian had 
 cut out the garment, and was already sewing it to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried, a little disappointed, " I wanted to 
 see it done! " 
 
 Injin Charley merely grunted. To make a buckskin 
 shirt requires the hides of three deer. Charley had 
 supplied the other two, and wished to keep the young 
 man from finding it out. 
 
 Wallace assumed the woods life as a man would 
 assume an unaccustomed garment. It sat him well, 
 and he learned fast, but he was always conscious of it. 
 He liked to wear moccasins, and a deer knife; he liked 
 to cook his own supper, or pluck the fragrant hemlock 
 browse for his pillow. Always he seemed to be trying 
 to realize and to savor fully the charm, the picturesque- 
 ness, the romance of all that he was doing and seeing. 
 To Thorpe these things were a part of everyday life; 
 matters of expedient or necessity. He enjoyed them, 
 but subconsciously, as one enjoys an environment. 
 Wallace trailed the cloak of his glories in frank admira- 
 tion of their splendor. 
 
 This double point of view brought the men very 
 close together. Thorpe liked the boy because he was 
 open-hearted, free from affectation, assumptive of no 
 superiority, in short, because he was direct and sin- 
 cere, although in a manner totally different from 
 Thorpe's own directness and sincerity. Wallace, on 
 his part, adored in Thorpe the free, open-air life, the 
 adventurous quality, the quiet hidden power, the re- 
 sourcefulness and self-sufficiency of the pioneer. He 
 was too young as yet to go behind the picturesque or 
 romantic; so he never thought to inquire of himself 
 what Thorpe did there in the wilderness, or indeed if
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 he did anything at all. He accepted Thorpe for what 
 he thought him to be, rather than for what he might 
 think him to be. Thus he reposed unbounded confi- 
 dence in him. 
 
 After a while, observing the absolute ingenuousness 
 of the boy, Thorpe used to take him from time to time 
 on some of his daily trips to the pines. Necessarily 
 he explained partially his position and the need of 
 secrecy. Wallace was immensely excited and impor- 
 tant at learning a secret of such moment, and deeply 
 flattered at being entrusted with it. 
 
 Some may trunk that here, considering the magni- 
 tude of the interests involved, Thorpe committed an 
 indiscretion. It may be; but if so, it was practically 
 ;an inevitable indiscretion. Strong, reticent characters 
 like Thorpe's prove the need from time to time of 
 violating their own natures, of running counter to 
 their ordinary habits of mind and deed. It is a neces- 
 sary relaxation of the strenuous, a debauch of the soul. 
 Its analogy in the lower plane is to be found in the 
 dissipations of men of genius; or still lower in the 
 orgies of fighters out of training. Sooner or later 
 Thorpe was sure to emerge for a brief space from that 
 iron-bound silence of the spirit, of which he himself 
 was the least aware. It was not so much a hunger for 
 affection, as the desire of a strong man temporarily to 
 get away from his strength. Wallace Carpenter be- 
 came in his case the exception to prove the rule. 
 
 Little by little the eager questionings of the youth 
 extracted a full statement of the situation. He learned 
 of the timber-thieves up the river, of their present 
 operations; and their probable plans; of the valuable 
 pine lying still unclaimed; of Thorpe's stealthy raid 
 into the enemy's country. It looked big to him, 
 epic! These were tremendous forces in motion, here 
 was intrigue, here was direct practical application of 
 the powers he had been playing with.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 143 
 
 " Why, it's great ! It's better than any book I ever 
 read!" 
 
 He wanted to know what he could do to help. 
 
 " Nothing except keep quiet," replied Thorpe, al- 
 ready uneasy, not lest the boy should prove unreliable, 
 but lest his very eagerness to seem unconcerned should 
 arouse suspicion. " You mustn't try to act any dif- 
 ferent. If the men from up-river come bv, be just as 
 cordial to them as you can, and don't a\_z mysterious 
 and important." 
 
 " All right," agreed Wallace, bubbling with excite- 
 ment. " And then what do you do after you get the 
 timber estimated?" 
 
 " I'll go South and try, quietly, to raise some money. 
 That will be difficult, because, you see, people don't 
 know me ; and I am not in a position to let them look 
 over the timber. Of course it will be merely a ques- 
 tion of my judgment. They can go themselves to the 
 Land Office and pay their money. There won't be 
 any chance of my making way with that. The investors 
 will become possessed of certain ' descriptions ' lying 
 in this country, all right enough. The rub is, will 
 they have enough confidence in me and my judgment 
 to believe the timber to be what I represent it? " 
 
 " I see," commented Wallace, suddenly grave. 
 
 That evening Injin Charley went on with his canoe 
 building. He melted together in a pot, resin and pitch. 
 The proportion he determined by experiment, for the 
 mixture had to be neither hard enough to crack nor 
 soft enough to melt in the sun. Then he daubed the 
 mess over all the seams. Wallace superintended the 
 operation for a time in silence. 
 
 " Harry," he said suddenly with a crisp decision new 
 to his voice, " will you take a little walk with me down 
 by the dam. I want to talk with you." 
 
 They strolled to the edge of the bank and stood for 
 a moment looking at the swirling waters.
 
 144 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " I want you to tell me all about logging," began 
 Wallace. " Start from the beginning. Suppose, for 
 instance, you had bought this pine here we were talking 
 about, what would be your first move?" 
 
 They sat side by side on a log, and Thorpe explained. 
 He told of the building of the camps, the making of 
 the roads; the cutting, swamping, travoying, skidding; 
 the banking and driving. Unconsciously a little of the 
 battle clang crept into his narrative. It became a 
 struggle, a gasping tug and heave for supremacy be- 
 tween the man and the wilderness. The excitement 
 of war was in it. When he had finished, Wallace drew 
 a deep breath. 
 
 " When I am home," said he simply, " I live in a 
 Dig house on the Lake Shore Drive. It is heated by 
 steam and lighted by electricity. I touch a button or 
 turn a screw, and at once I am lighted and warmed. 
 At certain hours meals are served me. I don't know 
 how they are cooked, or where the materials come 
 from. Since leaving college I have spent a little time 
 down town every day; and then I've played golf or 
 tennis or ridden a horse in the park. The only real 
 thing left is the sailing. The wind blows just as hard 
 and the waves mount just as high to-day as they did 
 when Drake sailed. All the rest is tame. We do little 
 imitations of the real thing with blue ribbons tied to 
 them, and think we are camping or roughing it. This 
 life of yours is glorious, is vital, it means something in 
 the march of the world; and I doubt whether ours 
 does. You are subduing the wilderness, extending the 
 frontier. After you will come the backwoods farmer 
 to pull up the stumps; and after him the big farmer 
 and the cities." 
 
 The young follow spoke with unexpected swiftness 
 and earnestness. Thorpe looked at him in surprise. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking," said the boy, 
 flushing. " You are surprised that I can be in earnest
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 145 
 
 about anything. I'm out of school up here. Let me 
 shout and play with the rest of the children." 
 
 Thorpe watched him with sympathetic eyes, but with 
 lips that obstinately refused to say one word. A woman 
 would have felt rebuffed. The boy's admiration, how- 
 ever, rested on the foundation of the more manly quali- 
 ties he had already seen in his friend. Perhaps this 
 very aloofness, this very silent, steady-eyed power ap- 
 pealed to him. 
 
 " I left college at nineteen because my father died," 
 said he. " I am now just twenty-one. A large estate 
 descended to me, and I have had to care for its invest- 
 ments all alone. I have one sister, that is all." 
 
 " So have I," cried Thorpe, and stopped. 
 
 " The estates have not suffered," went on the boy 
 simply. " I have done well with them. But," he cried 
 fiercely, " I hate it! It is petty and mean and worry- 
 ing and nagging! That's why I was so glad to get 
 out in the woods." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Have some tobacco," said Thorpe. 
 
 Wallace accepted with a nod. 
 
 " Now, Harry, I have a proposal to make to yon. 
 It is this ; you need thirty thousand dollars to buy your 
 land. Let me supply it, and come in as half partner." 
 
 An expression of doubt crossed the landlooker's 
 face. 
 
 " Oh pkase!" cried the boy, " I do want to get in 
 something real! It will be the making of me!" 
 
 " Now see here," interposed Thorpe suddenly, " you 
 don't even know my name." 
 
 " I know you" replied the boy. 
 
 " My name is Harry Thorpe," pursued the other. 
 " My father was Henry Thorpe, an embezzler." 
 
 " Harry," replied Wallace soberly, " I am sorry I 
 made you say that. I do not care for your name 
 except perhaps to put it in the articles of partnership,
 
 146 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 and I have no concern with your ancestry. I tell 
 you it is a favor to let me in on this deal. I don't 
 know anything about lumbering, but I've got eyes. 
 I can see that big timber standing up thick and tall, 
 and I know people make profits in the business. It 
 'sn't a question of the raw material surely, and you 
 have experience." 
 
 " Not so much as you think," interposed Thorpe. 
 
 " There remains," went on Wallace without atten- 
 tion to Thorpe's remark, " only the question of " 
 
 " My honesty," interjected Thorpe grimly. 
 
 " No ! " cried the boy hotly, " of your letting me in 
 on a good thing! " 
 
 Thorpe considered a few moments in silence. 
 
 " Wallace," he said gravely at last, " I honestly do 
 think that whoever goes into this deal with me will 
 make money. Of course there's always chances against 
 it. But I am going to do my best. I've seen other men 
 fail at it, and the reason they've failed is because they 
 did not demand success of others and of themselves. 
 That's it; success! When a general commanding 
 troops receives a report on something he's ordered 
 done, he does not trouble himself with excuses; he 
 merely asks whether or not the thing was accomplished. 
 Difficulties don't count. It is a soldier's duty to per- 
 form the impossible. Well, that's the way it ought to 
 be with us. A man has no right to come to me and 
 say, ' I failed because such and such things happened.' 
 Either he should succeed in spite of it all ; or he should 
 step up and take his medicine without whining. Well, 
 I'm going to succeed! " 
 
 The man's accustomed aloofness had gone. His 
 eye flashed, his brow frowned, the muscles of his cheeks 
 contracted under his beard. In the bronze light of 
 evening he looked like a fire-breathing statue to that 
 great ruthless god he had himself invoked, Success. 
 
 Wallace gazed at him with fascinated admiration. 
 
 \
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 147 
 
 "Then you will?" he asked tremulously. 
 
 " Wallace," he replied again, " they'll say you have 
 been the victim of an adventurer, but the result will 
 prove them wrong. If I weren't perfectly sure of this, 
 I wouldn't think of it, for I like you, and I know you 
 want to go into this more out of friendship for me and 
 because your imagination is touched, than from any 
 business sense. But I'll accept, gladly. And I'll do 
 my best!" 
 
 " Hooray ! " cried the boy, throwing his cap up in 
 the air. " We'll do 'em up in the first round ! " 
 
 At last when Wallace Carpenter reluctantly quitted 
 his friends on the Ossawinamakee, he insisted on 
 leaving with them a variety of the things he had 
 brought. 
 
 " I'm through with them," said he. " Next time I 
 come up here we'll have a camp of our own, won't we, 
 Harry? And I do feel that I am awfully in you fellows' 
 debt. You've given me the best time I have ever had 
 in my life, and you've refused payment for the mocca- 
 sins and things you've made for me. I'd feel much 
 better if you'd accept them, just as keepsakes." 
 
 " All right, Wallace," replied Thorpe, " and much 
 obliged." 
 
 " Don't forget to come straight to me when you get 
 through estimating, now, will you? Come to the house 
 and stay. Our compact holds now, honest Injin; 
 doesn't it?" asked the boy anxiously. 
 
 " Honest Injin," laughed Thorpe. " Gqod-by." 
 
 The little canoe shot away down the current. The 
 last Injin Charley and Thorpe saw of the boy was as 
 he turned the curve. His hat was off and waving in 
 his hand, his curls were blowing in the breeee, his 
 eyes sparkled with bright good-will, and his lips parted 
 in a cheery halloo of farewell. 
 
 " Him nice boy," repeated Injin Charley, turning to 
 his canoe.
 
 Chapter XX 
 
 rHUS Thorpe and the Indian unexpectedly 
 found themselves in the possession of luxury. 
 The outfit had not meant much to Wallace 
 Carpenter, for he had bought it in the city, where such 
 things are abundant and excite no remark; but to the 
 woodsman each article possessed a separate and par- 
 ticular value. The tent, an iron kettle, a side of bacon, 
 oatmeal, tea, matches, sugar, some canned goods, a 
 box of hard-tack, these, in the woods, represented 
 wealth. Wallace's rifle chambered the .38 Winchester 
 cartridge, which was unfortunate, for Thorpe's .44 had 
 barely a magazineful left. 
 
 The two men settled again into their customary 
 ways of life. Things went much as before, except that 
 the flies and mosquitoes became thick. To men as 
 hardened as Thorpe and the Indian, these pests were 
 not as formidable as they would have been to anyone 
 directly from the city, but they were sufficiently annoy- 
 ing. Thorpe's old tin pail was pressed into service as 
 a smudge-kettle. Every evening about dusk, when the 
 insects first began to emerge from the dark swamps, 
 Charley would build a tiny smoky fire in the bottom 
 of the pail, feeding it with peat, damp moss, punk maple, 
 and other inflammable smoky fuel. This censer swung 
 twice or thrice about the tent, effectually cleared it. 
 Besides, both men early established on their cheeks an 
 invulnerable glaze of a decoction of pine tar, oil, and 
 a pungent herb. Towards the close of July, however, 
 the insects began sensibly to diminish, both in numbers 
 and persistency. 
 
 148
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 149 
 
 Up to the present Thorpe had enjoyed a clear field. 
 Now two men came down from above and established 
 a temporary camp in the woods half a mile below the 
 dam. Thorpe soon satisfied himself that they were 
 picking out a route for the logging road. Plenty 
 which could be cut and travoyed directly to the bank- 
 ing ground lay exactly along the bank of the stream; 
 but every logger possessed of a tract of timber tries 
 each year to get in some that is easy to handle and 
 some that is difficult. Thus the average of expense is 
 maintained. 
 
 The two men, of course, did not bother themselves 
 with the timber to be travoyed, but gave their entire 
 attention to that lying further back. Thorpe was en- 
 abled thus to avoid them entirely. He simply trans- 
 ferred his estimating to the forest by the stream. Once 
 he met one of the men ; but was fortunately in a country 
 that lent itself to his pose of hunter. The other he did 
 not see at all. 
 
 But one day he heard him. The two up-river men 
 were following carefully but noisily the bed of a little 
 creek. Thorpe happened to be on the side-hill, so he 
 seated himself quietly until they should have moved on 
 down. One of the men shouted to the other, who, 
 crashing through a thicket, did not hear. " Ho-o-o! 
 Dyer! " the first repeated. " Here's that infernal comer; 
 over here ! " 
 
 " Yop! " assented the other. " Coming! " 
 
 Thorpe recognized the voice instantly as that oi 
 Radway's sealer. His hand crisped in a gesture of 
 disgust. The man had always been obnoxious to 
 him. 
 
 Two days later he stumbled on their camp. He 
 paused in wonder at what he saw. 
 
 The packs lay open, their contents scattered in every 
 direction. The fire had been hastily extinguished with 
 a bucket of water, and a frying pan lay where it had
 
 150 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 been overturned. If the thing had been possible, 
 Thorpe would have guessed at a hasty and unpremedi- 
 tated flight. 
 
 He was about to withdraw carefully lest he be dis- 
 covered, when he was startled by a touch on his elbow. 
 It was Injin Charley. 
 
 " Dey go up river," he said. " I come see what de 
 row." 
 
 The Indian examined rapidly the condition of the 
 little camp. 
 
 " Dey look for somethin'," said he, making his hand 
 revolve as though rummaging, and indicating the 
 packs. 
 
 " I t'ink dey see you in de woods," he concluded. 
 " Dey go camp gettum boss. Boss he gone on river 
 trail two t'ree hour." 
 
 " You're right, Charley," replied Thorpe, who had 
 been drawing his own conclusions. " One of them 
 knows me. They've been looking in their packs for 
 their note-books with the descriptions of these sections 
 in them. Then they piled out for the boss. If I know 
 anything at all, the boss'll make tracks for Detroit." 
 
 "Wot you do?" asked Injin Charley curiously. 
 
 M I got to get to Detroit before they do; that's all." 
 
 Instantly the Indian became all action. 
 
 " You come," he ordered, and set out at a rapid pace 
 for camp. 
 
 There, with incredible deftness, he packed together 
 about twelve pounds of the jerked venison and a pair 
 of blankets, thrust Thorpe's waterproof match safe in 
 his pocket, and turned eagerly to the young man. 
 
 " You come," he repeated. 
 
 Thorpe hastily unearthed his " descriptions " and 
 wrapped them up. The Indian, in silence, rearranged 
 the displaced articles in such a manner as to relieve 
 the camp of its abandoned air. 
 
 It was nearly sundown. Without a word the two
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL ,Jl 
 
 men struck off into the forest, the Indian in tlie lead. 
 Their course was southeast, but Thorpe asked no ques- 
 tions. He followed blindly. Soon he found that if he 
 did even that adequately, he would have little atten- 
 tion left for anything else. The Indian walked with 
 long, swift strides, his knees always slightly bent, even 
 at the finish of the step, his back hollowed, his 
 shoulders and head thrust forward. His gait had a 
 queer sag in it, up and down in a long curve from one 
 rise to the other. After a time Thorpe became fasci- 
 nated in watching before him this easy, untiring lope, 
 hour after hour, without the variation of a second's 
 fraction in speed nor an inch in length. It was as 
 though the Indian were made of steel springs. He 
 never appeared to hurry; but neither did he ever 
 rest. 
 
 At first Thorpe followed him with comparative ease, 
 but at the end of three hours he was compelled to put 
 forth decided efforts to keep pace. His walking was 
 no longer mechanical, but conscious. When it be- 
 comes so, a man soon tires. Thorpe resented the in- 
 equalities, the stones, the roots, the patches of soft 
 ground which lay in his way. He felt dully that they 
 were not fair. He could negotiate the distance; but 
 anything else was a gratuitous insult. 
 
 Then suddenly he gained his second wind. He felt 
 better and stronger and moved freer. For second wind 
 is only to a very small degree a question of the breath- 
 ing power. It is rather the response of the vital forces 
 to a will that refuses to heed their first grumbling pro- 
 tests. Like dogs by the fire they do their utmost to 
 convince their master that the limit of freshness is 
 reached; but at last, under the whip, spring to their 
 work. 
 
 At midnight Injin Charley called a halt. He spread 
 his blanket, leaned on one elbow long enough to eat 
 3 strip of dried meat, and fell asleep. Thorpe imitated
 
 152 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 his example. Three hours later the Indian roused his 
 companion, and the two set out again. 
 
 Thorpe had walked a leisurely ten days through the 
 woods far to the north. In that journey he had en- 
 countered many difficulties. Sometimes he had been 
 tangled for hours at a time in a dense and almost 
 impenetrable thicket. Again he had spent a half day 
 in crossing a treacherous swamp. Or there had inter- 
 posed in his trail abattises of down timber a quarter 
 of a mile wide over which it had been necessary to 
 pick a precarious way eight or ten feet from the 
 ground. 
 
 This journey was in comparison easy. Most of the 
 time the travellers walked along high beech ridges or 
 through the hardwood forests. Occasionally they 
 were forced to pass into the lowlands, but always little 
 saving spits of highland reaching out towards each 
 other abridged the necessary wallowing. Twice they 
 swam rivers. 
 
 At first Thorpe thought this was because the country 
 was more open ; but as he gave better attention to their 
 route, he learned to ascribe it entirely to the skill of 
 his companion. The Indian seemed by a species of 
 instinct to select the most practicable routes. He 
 seemed to know how the land ought to lie, so that he 
 was never deceived by appearances into entering a 
 cul de sac. His beech ridges always led to other beech 
 ridges; his hardwood never petered out into the terrible 
 black swamps. Sometimes Thorpe became sensible 
 that they had commenced a long detour; but it was 
 never an abrupt detour, unforeseen and blind. 
 
 From three o'clock until eight they walked continu- 
 ally without a pause, without an instant's breathing 
 spell. Then they rested a half hour, ate a little venison, 
 and smoked a pipe. 
 
 An hour after noon they repeated the rest. Thorpe 
 rose with a certain physical reluctance. The Indian
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 153 
 
 seemed as fresh or as tired as when he started. 
 At sunset they took an hour. Then forward again by 
 the dim intermittent light of the moon and stars 
 through the ghostly haunted forest, until Thorpe 
 thought he would drop with weariness, and was men- 
 tally incapable of contemplating more than a hundred 
 steps in advance. 
 
 " When I get to that square patch of light, 111 quit," 
 he would say to himself, and struggle painfully the re- 
 quired twenty rods. 
 
 " No, I won't quit here," he would continue, " 111 
 make it that birch. Then I'll lie down and die." 
 
 And so on. To the actual physical exhaustion of 
 Thorpe's muscles was added that immense mental wear- 
 iness which uncertainty of the time and distance inflicts 
 on a man. The journey might last a week, for all he 
 knew. In the presence of an emergency these men of 
 action had actually not exchanged a dozen words. The 
 Indian led; Thorpe followed. 
 
 When the halt was called, Thorpe fell into his 
 blanket too weary even to eat. Next morning sharp, 
 shooting pains, like the stabs of swords, ran through 
 his groin. 
 
 " You come," repeated the Indian, stolid as ever. 
 
 When the sun was an hour high the travellers sud- 
 denly ran into a trail, which as suddenly dived into a 
 spruce thicket On the other side of it Thorpe unex- 
 pectedly found himself in an extensive clearing, dotted 
 with the blackened stumps of pines. Athwart the dis- 
 tance he could perceive the wide blue horizon of Lake 
 Michigan. He had crossed the Upper Peninsula on 
 foot! 
 
 " Boat come by to-day," said Injin Charley, indicat- 
 ing the tall stacks of a mill. *' Him no stop. You male* 
 him stop take you with him. You get train Mackinaw 
 Qty to-night. Dose men, dey on dat train.*' 
 
 Thorpe calculated rapidly. The enemy would re-
 
 154 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 quire, even with their teams, a day to cover the thirty 
 miles to the fishing village of Munising, whence the 
 stage ran each morning to Seney, the present terminal 
 of the South Shore Railroad. He, Thorpe, on foot 
 and three hours behind, could never have caught the 
 stage. But from Seney only one train a day was de- 
 spatched to connect at Mackinaw City with the Michi- 
 gan Central, and on that one train, due to leave this 
 very morning, the up-river man was just about pulling 
 out. He would arrive at Mackinaw City at four o'clock 
 of the afternoon, where he would be forced to wait until 
 eight in the evening. By catching a boat at the mill 
 to which Injin Charley had led him, Thorpe could 
 still make the same train. Thus the start in the race 
 for Detroit's Land Office would be fair. 
 
 " All right/' he cried, all his energy returning to 
 him. "Here goes! We'll beat him out yet!" 
 
 " You come back ? " inquired the Indian, peering 
 with a certain anxiety into his companion's eyes. 
 
 " Come back! " cried Thorpe. " You bet your hat! H 
 
 " I wait," replied the Indian, and was gone. 
 
 " Oh, Charley! " shouted Thorpe in surprise. 
 " Come on and get a square meal, anyway." 
 
 But the Indian was already on his way back to the 
 distant Ossawinamakee. 
 
 Thorpe hesitated in two minds whether to follow 
 and attempt further persuasion, for he felt keenly 
 the interest the other had displayed. Then he saw, 
 over the headland to the east, a dense trail of black 
 smoke. He set off on a stumbling run towards th<* 
 mill.
 
 Chapter XXI 
 
 JT y E arrived out of breath in a typical little mitf 
 m m town consisting of the usual unpainted houses, 
 M. JL the saloons, mill, office, and general store. To 
 the latter he addressed himself for information. 
 
 The proprietor, still sleepy, was mopping out the 
 place. 
 
 " Does that boat stop here? " shouted Thorpe across 
 the suds. 
 
 " Sometimes," replied the man somnolently. 
 
 " Not always?" 
 
 " Only when there's freight for her.** 
 
 "Doesn't she stop for passengers?" 
 
 " Nope." 
 
 " How does she know when there's freight? " 
 
 " Oh, they signal her from the mill " but Thorpe 
 was gone. 
 
 At the mill Thorpe dove for the engine room. He 
 knew that elsewhere the clang of machinery and the 
 hurry of business would leave scant attention for him. 
 And besides, from the engine room the signals would 
 be given. He found, as is often the case in north- 
 country sawmills, a Scotchman in charge. 
 
 " Does the boat stop here this morning? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Weel," replied the engineer with fearful delibera- 
 tion, " I canna say. But I hae received na orders to 
 that effect." 
 
 " Can't you whistle her in for me? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " I canna," answered the engineer, promptly enough 
 this time. 
 
 155
 
 156 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Ye're na what a body might call freight" 
 
 " No other way out of it? " 
 
 " Na." 
 
 Thorpe was seized with an idea. 
 
 " Here! " he cried. " See that boulder over there? 
 I want to ship that to Mackinaw City by freight on this 
 boat." 
 
 The Scotchman's eyes twinkled appreciatively. 
 
 "I'm dootin' ye hae th' freight-bill from the office,** 
 he cbjected simply. 
 
 " See here," replied Thorpe, " I've just got to get 
 that boat. It's worth twenty dollars to me, and I'll 
 square it with the captain. There's your twenty." 
 
 The Scotchman deliberated, looking aslant at the 
 ground and thoughtfully oiling a cylinder with a greasy 
 rag. 
 
 " It'll na be a matter of life and death?" he asked 
 hopefully. " She aye stops for life and death." 
 
 " No," replied Thorpe reluctantly. Then with an 
 explosion, " Yes, by God, it is! If I don't make that 
 boat, I'll kill you." 
 
 The Scotchman chuckled and pocketed the money. 
 " I'm dootin' that's in order," he replied. " I'll no be 
 party to any such proceedin's. I'm goin' noo for a fresh 
 pail of watter," he remarked, pausing at the door, " but 
 as a wee item of information: yander's th' wheestle 
 rope ; and a mon wheestles one short and one long for 
 th' boat." 
 
 He disappeared. Thorpe seized the cord and gave 
 the signal. Then he ran hastily to the end of the long 
 lumber docks, and peered with great eagerness in the 
 direction of the black smoke. 
 
 The steamer was as yet concealed behind a low spit 
 of land which ran out from the west to form one side 
 of the harbor. In a moment, however, her bows ap- 
 peared, headed directly down towards the Straits of
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 157 
 
 Mackinaw. When opposite the little bay Thorpe con- 
 fidently looked to see her turn in, but to his consterna- 
 tion she held her course. He began to doubt whether 
 his signal had been heard. Fresh black smoke poured 
 from the funnel; the craft seemed to gather speed as 
 she approached the eastern point. Thorpe saw his 
 hopes sailing away. He wanted to stand up absurdly 
 and wave his arms to attract attention at that impos- 
 sible distance. He wanted to sink to the planks in 
 apathy. Finally he sat down, and with dull eyes 
 watched the distance widen between himself and his 
 aims. 
 
 And then with a grand free sweep she turned and 
 headed directly for him. 
 
 Other men might have wept or shouted. Thorpe 
 merely became himself, imperturbable, commanding, 
 apparently cold. He negotiated briefly with the captain, 
 paid twenty dollars more for speed and the privilege of 
 landing at Mackinaw City. Then he slept for eight 
 hours on end and was awakened in time to drop into a 
 small boat which deposited him on the broad sand 
 beach of the lower peninsula.
 
 Chapter XXII 
 
 rHE train was just leisurely making up for de- 
 parture. Thorpe, dressed as he was in old 
 " pepper and salt " garments patched with 
 buckskin, his hat a flopping travesty on headgear, his 
 moccasins, worn and dirty, his face bearded and 
 bronzed, tried as much as possible to avoid attention. 
 He sent an instant telegram to Wallace Carpenter con- 
 ceived as follows: 
 
 " Wire thirty thousand my order care Land Office, 
 Detroit, before nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Do 
 it if you have to rustle all night. Important." 
 
 Then he took a seat in the baggage car on a pile of 
 boxes and philosophically waited for the train to start. 
 He knew that sooner or later the man, provided he 
 were on the train, would stroll through the car, and he 
 wanted to be out of the way. The baggage man proved 
 friendly, so Thorpe chatted with him until after bed- 
 time. Then he entered the smoking car and waited 
 patiently for morning. 
 
 So far the affair had gone very well. It had depended 
 on personal exertions, and he had made it go. Now 
 he was forced to rely on outward circumstances. He 
 argued that the up-river man would have first to make 
 his financial arrangements before he could buy in the 
 land, and this would give the landlooker a chance to 
 get in ahead at the office. There would probably be 
 no difficulty about that. The man suspected nothing. 
 But Thorpe had to confess himself fearfully uneasy 
 about his own financial arrangements. That was the 
 rub. Wallace Carpenter had been sincere enough in 
 
 K8
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 159 
 
 his informal striking of partnership, but had he re- 
 tained his enthusiasm? Had second thought convicted 
 him of folly? Had conservative business friends dis- 
 suaded him? Had the glow faded in the reality of his 
 accustomed life? And even if his good-will remained 
 unimpaired, would he be able, at such short notice, to 
 raise so large a sum ? Would he realize from Thorpe's 
 telegram the absolute necessity of haste? 
 
 At the last thought, Thorpe decided to send a second 
 message from the next station. He did so. It read: 
 " Another buyer of timber on same train with me. 
 Must have money at nine o'clock or lose land." He 
 paid day rates on it to insure immediate delivery. 
 Suppose the boy should be away from home ! 
 
 Everything depended on Wallace Carpenter; and 
 Thorpe could not but confess the chance slender. One 
 other thought made the night seem long. Thorpe had 
 but thirty dollars left. 
 
 Morning came at last, and the train drew in and 
 stopped. Thorpe, being in the smoking car, dropped 
 off first and stationed himself near the exit where he 
 could look over the passengers without being seen. 
 They filed past. Two only he could accord the role 
 of master lumbermen all the rest were plainly 
 drummers or hayseeds. And in these two Thorpe rec- 
 ognized Daly and Morrison themselves. They passed 
 within ten feet of him, talking earnestly together. At 
 the curb they hailed a cab and drove away. Thorpe 
 with satisfaction heard them call the name of a hotel. - 
 
 It was still two hours before the Land Office would 
 be open. Thorpe ate breakfast at the depot and wan- 
 dered slowly up Jefferson Avenue to Woodward, a 
 strange piece of our country's medievalism in modern 
 surroundings. He was so occupied with his own 
 thoughts that for some time he remained unconscious 
 of the attention he was attracting. Then, with a start, 
 he felt that everyone was staring at him. The hour was
 
 160 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 early, so that few besides the working classes were 
 abroad, but he passed one lady driving leisurely to an 
 early train whose frank scrutiny brought him to him- 
 self. He became conscious that his broad hat was 
 weather-soiled and limp, that his flannel shirt was 
 faded, that his " pepper and salt " trousers were 
 patched, that moccasins must seem as anachronistic as 
 chain mail. It abashed him. He could not know that 
 it was all wild and picturesque, that his straight and 
 muscular figure moved with a grace quite its own and 
 the woods', that the bronze of his skin contrasted 
 splendidly with the clearness of his eye, that his whole 
 bearing expressed the serene power that comes only 
 from the confidence of battle. The woman in the car- 
 riage saw it, however. 
 
 " He is magnificent! " she cried. " I thought such 
 men had died with Cooper! " 
 
 Thorpe whirled sharp on his heel and returned at 
 once to a boarding-house off Fort Street, where he had 
 " outfitted " three months before. There he reclaimed 
 his valise, shaved, clothed himself in linen and cheviot 
 once more, and sauntered slowly over to the Land 
 Office to await its opening.
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 
 yil nine o'clock neither of the partners had 
 
 >nf appeared. Thorpe entered the office and ap- 
 ^ Ji preached the desk. 
 
 " Is there a telegram here for Harry Thorpe ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 The clerk to whom he addressed himself merely 
 motioned with his head toward a young fellow behind 
 the railing in a corner. The latter, without awaiting 
 the question, shifted comfortably and replied: 
 
 " No." 
 
 At the same instant steps were heard in the corridor, 
 the door opened, and Mr. Morrison appeared on the 
 sill. Then Thorpe showed the stuff of which he was 
 made. 
 
 " Is this the desk for buying Government lands? " 
 he asked hurriedly. 
 
 " Yes," replied the clerk." 
 
 " I have some descriptions I wish to buy in." 
 
 " Very well," replied the clerk, " what township? " 
 
 Thorpe detailed the figures, which he knew by heart, 
 the clerk took from a cabinet the three books contain- 
 ing them, and spread them out on the counter. At this 
 moment tke bland voice of Mr. Morrison made itself 
 heard at Thorpe's elbow. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Smithers," it said with the 
 deliberation of the consciously great man. " I have 
 a few descriptions I would like to buy in the northern 
 peninsula." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Morrison. Archie there will 
 attend to you, Archie, see what Mr. Morrison wishes." 
 
 161
 
 162 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The lumberman and the other clerk consulted in a 
 low voice, after which the official turned to fumble 
 among the records. Not finding what he wanted, he 
 approached Smithers. A whispered consultation en- 
 sued between these two. Then Smithers called: 
 
 " Take a seat, Mr. Morrison. This gentleman is 
 looking over these townships, and will have finished 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 Morrison's eye suddenly became uneasy. 
 
 " I am somewhat busy this morning," he objected 
 with a shade of command in his voice. 
 
 " If this gentleman ? " suggested the clerk deli- 
 cately 
 
 " I am sorry," put in Thorpe with brevity, " my 
 time, too, is valuable." 
 
 Morrison looked at him sharply. 
 
 " My deal is a big one," he snapped. " I can prob- 
 ably arrange with this gentleman to let him have his 
 farm." 
 
 " I claim precedence," replied Thorpe calmly. 
 
 " Well," said Morrison swift as light, "I'll tell you, 
 Smithers. I'll leave my list of descriptions and a check 
 with you. Give me a receipt, and mark my lands off 
 after you've finished with this gentleman." 
 
 Now Government and State lands are the property 
 of the man who pays for them. Although the clerk's 
 receipt might not give Morrison a valid claim; never- 
 theless it would afford basis for a lawsuit. Thorpe 
 -aw the trap, and interposed. 
 
 " Hold on," he interrupted, " I claim precedence. 
 You can give no receipt for any land in these town- 
 ships until after my business is transacted. I have 
 reason to believe that this gentleman and myself arc 
 both after the same descriptions." 
 
 "What! " shouted Morrison, assuming surprise. 
 
 " You will have to await your turn, Mr. Morrison," 
 said the clerk, virtuous before so many witnesses.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 163 
 
 The business man was in a white rage of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " I insist on my application being filed at once! " he 
 cried waving his check. " I have the money right here 
 to pay for every acre of it ; and if I know the law, the 
 first man to pay takes the land." 
 
 He slapped the check down on the rail, and hit it 
 a number of times with the flat of his hand. Thorpe 
 turned and faced him with a steel look in his level 
 eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Morrison," he said, " you are quite right. The 
 first man who pays gets the land; but I have won 
 the first chance to pay. You will kindly step one 
 side until I finish my business with Mr. Smithers 
 here." 
 
 " I suppose you have the amount actually with you,** 
 said the clerk, quite respectfully, " because if you have 
 not, Mr. Morrison's claim will take precedence." 
 
 " I would hardly have any business in a land office, 
 if I did not know that," replied Thorpe, and began his 
 dictation of the description as calmly as though his 
 inside pocket contained the required amount in bank 
 bills. 
 
 Thorpe's hopes had sunk to zero. After all, looking 
 at the matter dispassionately, why should he expect 
 Carpenter to trust him, a stranger, with so large a 
 sum? It had been madness. Only the blind confi- 
 dence of the fighting man led him further into the 
 struggle. Another would have given up, would have 
 stepped aside from the path of this bona-fide purchaser 
 with the money in his hand. 
 
 But Thorpe was of the kind that hangs on until the 
 last possible second, not so much in the expectation of 
 winning, as in sheer reluctance to yield. Such men 
 shoot their last cartridge before surrendering, swim 
 the last ounce of strength from their arms before 
 throwing them up to sink, search coolly until the latest
 
 i<54 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 moment for a way from the burning building 1 , and 
 sometimes come face to face with miracles. 
 
 Thorpe's descriptions were contained in the battered 
 little note-book he had carried with him in the woods. 
 For each piece of land first there came the township 
 described by latitude and east-and-west range. After 
 this generic description followed another figure rep- 
 resenting the section of that particular district. So 
 49 17 W 8, meant section 8, of the township on 
 range 49 north, 17 west. If Thorpe wished to pur- 
 chase the whole section, that description would suffice- 
 On the other hand, if he wished to buy only one forty, 
 he described its position in the quarter-section. Thus 
 SW NW 49 17 8, meant the southwest forty 
 of the northwest quarter of section 8 in the township 
 already described. 
 
 The clerk marked across each square of his map 
 as Thorpe read them, the date and the purchaser's 
 name. 
 
 In his note-book Thorpe had, of course, entered the 
 briefest description possible. Now, in dictating to the 
 clerk, he conceived the idea of specifying each sub- 
 division. This gained some time. Instead of saying 
 simply, " Northwest quarter of section 8," he made of 
 it four separate descriptions, as follows : Northwest 
 quarter of northwest quarter; northeast of northwest 
 quarter; southwest of northwest quarter; and south- 
 east of northwest quarter. 
 
 He was not so foolish as to read the descriptions in 
 succession, but so scattered them that the clerk, put- 
 ting down the figures mechanically, had no idea of the 
 amount of unnecessary work he was doing. The 
 minute hands of the clock dragged around. Thorpe 
 droned down the long column. The clerk scratched 
 industriously, repeating in a half voice each descrip- 
 tion as it was transcribed. 
 
 At length the task was finished. It became neces-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 165 
 
 sary to type duplicate lists of the descriptions. While 
 the somnolent youth finished this task, Thorpe listened 
 for the messenger boy on the stairs. 
 
 A faint slam was heard outside the rickety old build- 
 ing. Hasty steps sounded along the corridor. The 
 landlooker merely stopped the drumming of his fingers 
 on the broad arm of the chair. The door flew open, 
 and Wallace Carpenter walked quickly to him. 
 
 Thorpe's face lighted up as he rose to greet his part- 
 ner. The boy had not forgotten their compact after 
 all. 
 
 "Then it's all right?" queried the latter breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Sure/' answered Thorpe heartily, " got 'em in 
 good shape." 
 
 At the same time he was drawing the youth beyond 
 the vigilant watchfulness of Mr. Morrison. 
 
 " You're just in time," he said in an undertone* 
 " Never had so close a squeak. I suppose you have 
 cash or a certified check: that's all they'll take here." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Carpenter blankly. 
 
 " Haven't you that money? " returned Thorpe quick 
 as a hawk. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, isn't it here? " cried Wallace in 
 consternation. " I wired Duncan, my banker, here 
 last night, and received a reply from him. He answered 
 that he'd see to it. Haven't you seen him?" 
 
 " No," repeated Thorpe in his turn. 
 
 " What can we do? " 
 
 " Can you get your check certified here near at 
 hand?" ' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, go do it. And get a move on you. You 
 have precisely until that boy there finishes clicking that 
 machine. Not a second longer." 
 
 " Can't you get them to wait a few minutes?" 
 
 " Wallace," said Thorpe, " do you see that white-
 
 166 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 whiskered old lynx in the corner? That's Morrison, 
 the man who wants to get our land. If I fail to plank 
 down the cash the very instant it is demanded, he gets 
 is chance. And he'll take it. Now, go. Don't hurry 
 tintil you get beyond the door: then fly! " 
 
 Thorpe sat down again in his broad-armed chair and 
 resumed his drumming. The nearest bank was six 
 blocks away. He counted over in his mind the steps 
 of Carpenter's progress ; now to the door, now in the 
 next block, now so far beyond. He had just escorted 
 him to the door of the bank, when the clerk's voice 
 broke in on him. 
 
 " Now," Smithers was saying, " I'll give you a re- 
 ceipt for the amount, and later will send to your address 
 the title deeds of the descriptions." 
 
 Carpenter had yet to find the proper official, to 
 identify himself, to certify the check, and to return. 
 It was hopeless. Thorpe dropped his hands in sur- 
 render. 
 
 Then he saw the boy lay the two typed lists before 
 his principal, and dimly he perceived that the youth, 
 shamefacedly, was holding something bulky toward 
 himself. 
 
 " Wh what is it ? " he stammered, drawing his 
 hand back as though from a red-hot iron. 
 
 " You asked me for a telegram," said the boy 
 stubbornly, as though trying to excuse himself, 
 " and I didn't just catch the name, anyway. When 
 I saw it on those lists I had to copy, I thought of 
 this here." 
 
 " Where'd you get it ? " asked Thorpe breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " A fellow came here early and left it for you while 
 I was sweeping out," explained the boy. " Said he had 
 to catch a train. It's yours all right, ain't it?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Thorpe. 
 
 He took the envelope and walked uncertainly to the
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 167 
 
 tall window. He looked out at the chimneys. After 
 a moment he tore open the envelope. 
 
 " I hope there's no bad news, sir? " said the clerk, 
 startled at the paleness of the face Thorpe turned to 
 the desk. 
 
 " No," replied the landlooker. " Give me a receipt. 
 There's a certified check for your money!"
 
 Chapter XXIV 
 
 71 "TOW that the strain was over, Thorpe expe- 
 /% / rienced a great weariness. The long journey 
 Jl V through the forest, his sleepless night on the 
 train, the mental alertness of playing the game with 
 shrewd foes, all these stretched his fibers out one by 
 one and left them limp. He accepted stupidly the 
 clerk's congratulations on his success, left the name of 
 the little hotel off Fort Street as the address to which 
 to send the deeds, and dragged himself off with in- 
 finite fatigue to his bed-room. There he fell at once 
 into profound unconsciousness. 
 
 He was awakened late in the afternoon by the sen- 
 sation of a strong pair of young arms around his 
 shoulders, and the sound of Wallace Carpenter's fresh 
 voice crying in his ears: 
 
 "Wake up, wake up! you Indian! You've been 
 asleep all day, and I've been waiting here all that time. 
 I want to hear about it. Wake up, I say! " 
 
 Thorpe rolled to a sitting posture on the edge of 
 the bed, and smiled uncertainly. Then as the sleep 
 drained from his brain, he reached out his hand. 
 
 " You bet we did 'em, Wallace," said he, " but it 
 looked like a hard proposition for a while." 
 
 " How was it? Tell me about it! " insisted the boy 
 eagerly. " You don't know how impatient I've been. 
 The clerk at the Land Office merely told me it was 
 all right. How did you fix it?" 
 
 While Thorpe washed and shaved and leisurely 
 freshened himself, he detailed his experiences of the 
 last week. 
 
 " And," he concluded gravely, " there's only one 
 
 168
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 169 
 
 man I know or ever heard of to whom I would have 
 considered it worth while even to think of sending that 
 telegram, and you are he. Somehow I knew you'd 
 come to the scratch." 
 
 " It's the most exciting thing I ever heard of," 
 sighed Wallace drawing a full breath, " and I wasn't 
 in it! It's the sort of thing I long for. If I'd only 
 waited another two weeks before coming down ! " 
 
 " In that case we couldn't have gotten hold of the 
 money, remember," smiled Thorpe. 
 
 " That's so." Wallace brightened " I did count, 
 didn't I?" 
 
 " I thought so about ten o'clock this morning," 
 Thorpe replied. 
 
 " Suppose you hadn't stumbled on their camp ; sup* 
 pose Injin Charley hadn't seen them go up-river; 
 suppose you hadn't struck that little mill town fust at 
 the time you did ! " marvelled Wallace. 
 
 " That's always the way," philosophized Thorpe in 
 reply. " It's the old story of ' if the horse-shoe nail 
 hadn't been lost/ you know. But we got there; and 
 that's the important thing." 
 
 ** We did! " cried the boy, his enthusiasm rekindling; 
 ** and to-night we'll celebrate with the best dinner we 
 can buy in town ! " 
 
 Thorpe was tempted, but remembered the thirty 
 dollars in his pocket, and looked doubtful. 
 
 Carpenter possessed, as part of his volatile enthusi- 
 astic temperament, keen intuitions. 
 
 ">on't refuse!" he begged. "I've set my heart 
 on giving my senior partner a dinner. Surely you 
 won't refuse to be my guest here, as I was yours in 
 the woods I" 
 
 " Wallace,** said Thorpe, " I'll go you. I'd like to 
 dine with you ; but moreover, I'll confess, I should like 
 to eat a good dinner again. It's been more than a year 
 since X*ve seen a salad, or heard of after-dinner coffee."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " Come on then," cried Wallace. 
 
 Together they sauntered through the lengthening 
 shadows to a certain small restaurant near Woodward 
 Avenue, then much in vogue among Detroit's epi- 
 cures. It contained only a half dozen tables, but was 
 spotlessly clean, and its cuisine was unrivalled. A large 
 fireplace near the center of the room robbed it of half 
 its restaurant air ; and a thick carpet on the floor took 
 the rest. The walls were decorated in dark colors 
 after the German style. Several easy chairs grouped 
 before the fireplace, and a light wicker table heaped 
 with magazines and papers invited the guests to lounge 
 while their orders were being prepared. 
 
 Thorpe was not in the least Sybaritic in his tastes, 
 but he could not stifle a sigh of satisfaction at sinking 
 so naturally into the unobtrusive little comforts which 
 the ornamental life offers to its votaries. They rose 
 up around him and pillowed him, and were grateful to 
 the tired fibers of his being. His remoter past had 
 enjoyed these things as a matter of course. They had 
 framed the background to his daily habit. Now that 
 the background had again slid into place on noiseless 
 grooves, Thorpe for the first time became conscious 
 that his strenuous life had indeed been in the open 
 air, and that the winds of earnest endeavor, while 
 bracing, had chilled. Wallace Carpenter, with the 
 poet's insight and sympathy, saw and understood this 
 feeling. 
 
 " I want you to order this dinner," said he, handing 
 over to Thorpe the card which an impossibly correct 
 waiter presented him. " And I want it a good one. 
 I want you to begin at the beginning and skip nothing. 
 Pretend you are ordering just the dinner you would 
 like to offer your sister," he suggested on a sudden in- 
 spiration. " I assure you I'll try to be just as critical 
 and exigent as she would be." 
 
 Thorpe took up the card d**"wnily.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 171 
 
 ** There are no oysters and clams now," said he, " so 
 we'll pass right on to the soup. It seems to me a dese- 
 cration to pretend to replace them. We'll have a 
 bisque," he told the waiter, " rich and creamy. Then 
 planked whitefish, and have them just a light crisp 
 brown. You can bring some celery, too, if you have 
 it fresh and good. And for entree tell your cook to 
 make some macaroni au gratin, but the inside must be 
 soft and very creamy, and the outside very crisp. 
 I know it's a queer dish for a formal dinner like ours," 
 he addressed Wallace with a little laugh, " but it's 
 very, very good. We'll have roast beef, rare and juicy; 
 if you bring it any way but a cooked red, I'll send it 
 back; and potatoes roasted with the meat, and brown 
 gravy. Then the breast of chicken with the salad, in 
 the French fashion. And I'll make the dressing. 
 We'll have an ice and some fruit for dessert. Black 
 coffee." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the waiter, his pencil poised. 
 "And the wines?" 
 
 Thorpe ruminated sleepily. 
 
 " A rich red Burgundy," he decided, " for all the 
 dinner. If your cellar contains a very good smooth 
 Beaune, we'll have that." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the waiter, and departed. 
 
 Thorpe sat and gazed moodily into the wood fire- 
 Wallace respected his silence. It was yet too early for 
 the fashionable world, so the two friends had the place 
 to themselves. Gradually the twilight fell; strange 
 shadows leaped and died on the wall. A boy dressed 
 all in white turned on the lights. By and by the waiter 
 announced that their repast awaited them. 
 
 Thorpe ate, his eyes half closed, in somnolent satis- 
 faction. Occasionally he smiled contentedly across at 
 Wallace, who smiled in response. After the coffee he 
 had the waiter bring cigars. They went back between 
 the tables to a little upholstered smoking room, where
 
 i;2 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 they sank into the depths of leather chairs, and blew 
 the gray clouds of smoke towards the ceiling. About 
 nine o'clock Thorpe spoke the first word. 
 
 " I'm stupid this evening, I'm afraid," said he, shak- 
 ing himself. " Don't think on that account I am not 
 enjoying your dinner. I believe," he asserted earnestly, 
 " that I never had such an altogether comfortable, 
 happy evening before in my life." 
 
 " I know," replied Wallace sympathetically. 
 
 " It seems just now," went on Thorpe, sinking more 
 luxuriously into his armchair, " that this alone is liv- 
 ing to exist in an environment exquisitely toned; 
 to eat, to drink, to smoke the best, not like a gormand, 
 but delicately as an artist would. It is the flower of 
 our civilization." 
 
 Wallace remembered the turmoil of the wilderness 
 brook; the little birch knoll, yellow in the evening 
 glow; the mellow voice of the summer night crooning 
 through the pines. But he had the rare tact to say 
 nothing. 
 
 " Did it ever occur to you that what you needed, 
 when sort of tired out this way," he said abruptly after 
 a moment, " is a woman to understand and sympathize ? 
 Wouldn't it have made this evening perfect to have 
 seen opposite you a being whom you loved, who under- 
 stood your moments of weariness, as well as your 
 moments of strength?" 
 
 " No," replied Thorpe, stretching his arms over his 
 head, " a woman would have talked It takes a friend 
 and a man, to know when to keep silent for three 
 straight hours." 
 
 The waiter brought the bill on a tray, and Carpenter 
 paid it. 
 
 " Wallace," said Thorpe suddenly after a long in- 
 terval, " we'll borrow enough by mortgaging our land 
 to supply the working expenses. I suppose capital 
 will have to investigate, and that'll take time; but I can
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 173 
 
 begin to pick up a crew and make arrangements for 
 transportation and supplies. You can let me have a 
 thousand dollars on the new Company's note for 
 initial expenses. We'll draw up articles of partnership 
 to-morrow."
 
 Chapter XXV 
 
 It "TEXT day the articles of partnership were 
 l\f drawn; and Carpenter gave his note for the 
 X V necessary expenses. Then in answer to a pen- 
 cilled card which Mr. Morrison had evidently left at 
 Thorpe's hotel in person, both young men called at the 
 lumberman's place of business. They were ushered 
 immediately into the private office. 
 
 Mr. Morrison was a smart little man with an ingra- 
 tiating manner and a fishy eye. He greeted Thorpe 
 with marked geniality. 
 
 "My opponent of yesterday!" he cried jocularly. 
 *' Sit down, Mr. Thorpe ! Although you did me out of 
 some land I had made every preparation to purchase, 
 I can't but admire your grit and resourcefulness. How 
 <iid you get here ahead of us? " 
 
 " I walked across the upper peninsula, and caught 
 a boat," replied Thorpe briefly. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed! " replied Mr. Morrison, placing the 
 tips of his fingers together. "Extraordinary! Well, 
 Mr. Thorpe, you overreached us nicely; and I suppose 
 we must pay for our carelessness. We must have that 
 pine, even though we pay stumpage on it. Now what 
 would you consider a fair price for it?" 
 
 " It is not for sale," answered Thorpe. 
 
 " We'll waive all that. Of course it is to your in- 
 terest to make difficulties and run the price up as high 
 as you can. But my time is somewhat occupied just 
 at present, so I would be very glad to hear your top 
 price we will come to an agreement afterwards." 
 
 " You do not understand me, Mr. Morris;^ I told 
 you the pine is not for sale, and I mean it." 
 
 174
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 175 
 
 "But surely What did you buy it for, then?" 
 cried Mr. Morrison, with evidences of a growing ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " We intend to manufacture it." 
 
 Mr. Morrison's fishy eyes nearly popped out of his 
 head. He controlled himself with an effort. 
 
 " Mr. Thorpe," said he, " let us try to be reasonable. 
 Our case stands this way. We have gone to a great 
 deal of expense on the Ossawinamakee in expectation 
 of undertaking very extensive operations there. To 
 that end we have cleared the stream, built three dams, 
 and have laid the foundations of a harbor and boom. 
 This has been very expensive. Now your purchase in- 
 cludes most of what we had meant to log. You have, 
 roughly speaking, about three hundred millions in 
 your holding, in addition to which there are several 
 millions scattering near it, which would pay nobody 
 but yourself to get in. Our holdings are further up 
 stream, and comprise only about the equal of yours." 
 
 " Three hundred millions are not to be sneezed at," 
 replied Thorpe. 
 
 " Certainly not," agreed Morrison, suavtly, gaming 
 confidence from the sound of his own voice. " Not in 
 this country. But you must remember that a man goes 
 into the northern peninsula only because he can get 
 something better there than here. When the firm of 
 Morrison & Daly establishes itself now, it must be for 
 the last time. We want enough timber to do us for 
 the rest of the time we are in business." 
 
 " In that case, you will have to hunt up another 
 locality," replied Thorpe calmly. 
 
 Morrison's eyes flashed. But he retained his appear- 
 ance of geniality, and appealed to Wallace Carpenter. 
 
 " Then you will retain the advantage of our dams 
 and improvements," said he. " Is that fair? " 
 
 " No, not on the face of it," admitted Thorpe. " But 
 you did your work in a navigable stream for private
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 purposes, without the consent of the Board of Control. 
 Your presence on the river is illegal. You should have 
 taken out a charter as an Improvement Company. 
 Then, as long as you 'tended to business and kept the 
 concern in repair, we'd have paid you a toll per thou 
 sand feet. As soon as you let it slide, however, the 
 works would revert to the State. I won't hinder your 
 doing that yet; although I might. Take out your char- 
 ter and fix your rate of toll." 
 
 " In other words, you force us to stay there and run 
 a little two-by-four Improvement Company for your 
 benefit, or else lose the value of our improvements? " 
 
 " Suit yourself," answered Thorpe carelessly. " You 
 can always log your present holdings." 
 
 " Very well," cried Morrison, so suddenly in a pas- 
 sion that Wallace started back. " It's war! And let 
 me tell you this, young man ; you're a new concern and 
 we're an old one. We'll crush you like that! " He 
 crisped an envelope vindictively, and threw it in the 
 waste-basket. 
 
 " Crush ahead," replied Thorpe with great good 
 humor. " Good-day, Mr. Morrison," and the two went 
 out. 
 
 Wallace was sputtering and trembling with nervous 
 excitement. His was one of those temperaments which 
 require action to relieve the stress of a stormy inter- 
 view. He was brave enough, but he would always 
 tremble in the presence of danger until the moment for 
 striking arrived. He wanted to do something at once. 
 
 " Hadn't we better see a lawyer? " he asked. 
 " Oughtn't we to look out that they don't take some 
 of our pine? Oughtn't we " 
 
 " You just leave all that to me," replied Thorpe. 
 "The first thing we want to do is to rustle some 
 money." 
 
 " And you can leave that to mt" echoed Wallace. 
 " I know a little of such things, and I have business
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 177 
 
 connections who know more. You just get the camp 
 running." 
 
 " I'll start for Bay City to-night," submitted Thorpe. 
 " There ought to be a good lot of lumber-jacks lying 
 around idle at this time of year; and it's a good place 
 to outfit from because we can probably get freight 
 rates direct by boat. We'll be a little late in starting, 
 but we'll get in some logs this winter, anyway."
 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL 
 
 r 
 
 Part III 
 The Blazing of the Trail
 
 Chapter XXVI 
 
 A LUMBERING town after the drive is a fear- 
 
 ft ful thing. Men just off the river draw a deep 
 JL J. breath, and plunge into the wildest reactionary 
 dissipation. In droves they invade the cities, wild, 
 picturesque, lawless. As long as the money lasts, they 
 blow it in. 
 
 " Hot money! " is the cry. " She's burnt holes in all 
 my pockets already! " 
 
 The saloons are full, the gambling houses overflow, 
 all the places of amusement or crime run full blast. 
 A chip rests lightly on everyone's shoulder. Fights 
 are as common as raspberries in August. Often one 
 of these formidable men, his muscles toughened and 
 quickened by the active, strenuous river work, will set 
 out to " take the town apart." For a time he leaves 
 rack and ruin, black eyes and broken teeth behind him, 
 until he meets a more redoubtable " knocker " and is 
 pounded and kicked into unconsciousness. Organized 
 gangs go from house to house forcing the peaceful in- 
 mates to drink from their bottles. Others take posses- 
 sion of certain sections of the street and resist d fow- 
 trance the attempts of others to pass. Inoffensive 
 citizens are stood on their heads, or shaken upside 
 down until the contents of their pockets rattle on the 
 street. Parenthetically, these contents are invariably 
 returned to their owners. The riverman's object is fun, 
 not robbery. 
 
 And if rip-roaring, swashbuckling, drunken glory is 
 what he is after, he gets it. The only trouble is, that a 
 whole winter's hard work goes in two or three weeks.
 
 182 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 The only redeeming feature is, that he is never, in or 
 out of his cups, afraid of anything that walks the earth. 
 
 A man comes out of the woods or off the drive with 
 two or three hundred dollars, which he is only too 
 anxious to throw away by the double handful. It 
 follows naturally that a crew of sharpers are on hand 
 to find out who gets it. They are a hard lot. Bold, 
 unprincipled men, they too are afraid of nothing; not 
 even a drunken lumber-jack, which is one of the dan- 
 gerous wild animals of the American fauna. Their 
 business is to relieve the man of his money as soon 
 as possible. They are experts at their business. 
 
 The towns of Bay City and Saginaw alone in 1878 
 supported over fourteen hundred tough characters. 
 Block after block was devoted entirely to saloons. 
 In a radius of three hundred feet from the famous old 
 Catacombs could be numbered forty saloons, where 
 drinks were sold by from three to ten " pretty waiter 
 girls." When the boys struck town, the proprietors 
 and waitresses stood in their doorways to welcome 
 them. 
 
 " Why, Jack! " one would cry, " when did you drift 
 in? Tickled to death to see you! Come in an' have 
 a drink. That your chum? Come in, old man, and 
 have a drink. Never mind the pay; that's all right." 
 
 And after the first drink, Jack, of course, had to 
 treat, and then the chum. 
 
 Or if Jack resisted temptation and walked resolutely 
 on, one of the girls would remark audibly to another. 
 
 " He ain't no lumber-jack ! You can see that easy 
 'miff ! He's jest off th' hay-trail! " 
 
 Ten to one that brought him, for the woodsman is 
 above all things proud and jealous of his craft. 
 
 In the center of this whirlpool of iniquity stood the 
 Catacombs as the hub from which lesser spokes in the 
 wheel radiated. Any old logger of the Saginaw Valley 
 can tell you of the Catacombs, just as any old logger
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 183 
 
 of any other valley will tell you of the " Pen," the 
 " White Row," the " Water Streets " of Alpena, Port 
 Huron, Ludington, Muskegon, and a dozen other lum- 
 ber towns. 
 
 The Catacombs was a three-story building. In the 
 basement were vile, ill-smelling, ill-lighted dens, small, 
 isolated, dangerous. The shanty boy with a small 
 stake, far gone in drunkenness, there tasted the last 
 drop of wickedness, and thence was flung unconscious 
 and penniless on the streets. A trap-door directly into 
 the river accommodated those who were inconsiderate 
 enough to succumb under rough treatment. 
 
 The second story was given over to drinking. Polly 
 Dickson there reigned supreme, an anomaly. She was 
 as pretty and fresh and pure-looking as a child ; and at 
 the same time was one of the most ruthless and un- 
 scrupulous of the gang. She could at will exercise a 
 fascination the more terrible in that it appealed at once 
 1o her victim's nobler instincts of reverence, his capacity 
 for what might be called aesthetic fascination, as well 
 as his passions. When she finally held him, she 
 crushed him as calmly as she would a fly. 
 
 Four bars supplied the drinkables. Dozens of 
 " pretty waiter girls " served the customers. A force 
 of professional fighters was maintained by the estab- 
 lishment to preserve that degree of peace which 
 should look to the preservation of mirrors and glass- 
 ware. 
 
 The third story contained a dance hall and a theater. 
 The character of both would better be left to the im- 
 agination. 
 
 Night after night during the season, this den ran at 
 top- steam. 
 
 By midnight, when the orgy was at its height, the 
 windows brilliantly illuminated, the various bursts of 
 music, laughing, cursing, singing, shouting, fighting, 
 breaking in turn or all togrethev from its open w
 
 184 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 it was, as Jackson Hines once expressed it to me, like 
 hell let out for noon. 
 
 The respectable elements of the towns were power- 
 less. They could not control the elections. Their 
 police would only have risked total annihilation by 
 attempting a raid. At the first sign of trouble they 
 walked straightly in the paths of their own affairs, 
 awaiting the time soon to come when, his stake 
 " blown-in," the last bitter dregs of his pleasure gulped 
 down, the shanty boy would again start for the woods
 
 Chapter XXVII 
 
 Tt "TOW in August, however, the first turmoil hact 
 l\i died. The "jam" had boiled into town, 
 X V " taken it apart," and left the inhabitants to 
 piece it together again as they could; the " rear " had 
 not yet arrived. As a consequence, Thorpe found the 
 city comparatively quiet. 
 
 Here and there swaggered a strapping riverman, his 
 small felt hat cocked aggressively over one eye, its 
 brim curled up behind; u cigar stump protruding at an 
 angle from beneath his sweeping moustache ; his hands 
 thrust into the pockets of his trousers, " slagged " off 
 at the knee ; the spikes of his river boots cutting little 
 triangular pieces from the wooden sidewalk. His eye 
 was aggressively humorous, and the smile of his face 
 was a challenge. 
 
 For in the last month he had faced almost certain 
 death a dozen times a day. He had ridden logs down 
 the rapids where a loss of balance meant in one instant 
 a ducking and in the next a blow on the back from 
 some following battering-ram; he had tugged and 
 strained and jerked with his peavey under a sheer wall 
 of tangled timber twenty feet high, behind which 
 pressed the full power of the freshet, only to jump 
 with the agility of a cat from one bit of unstable footing 
 to another when the first sharp crack warned him that 
 he had done his work, and that the whole mass was 
 about to break down on him like a wave on the 
 shore; he had worked fourteen hours a day in 
 ice-water, and had slept damp; he had pried at 
 the key log in the railways on the bank until 
 
 185
 
 1 86 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 i 
 
 the whole pile had begun to rattle down into the 
 river like a cascade, and had jumped, or ridden, or 
 even dived out of danger at the last second. In a 
 hundred passes he had juggled with death as a child 
 plays with a rubber balloon. No wonder that he has 
 brought to the town and his vices a little of the lofty 
 bearing of an heroic age. No wonder that he fears no 
 man, since nature's most terrible forces of the flood 
 have hurled a thousand weapons at him in vain. His 
 muscles have been hardened, his eye is quiet and sure, 
 his courage is undaunted, and his movements are as 
 quick and accurate as a panther's. Probably nowhere 
 in the world is a more dangerous man of his hands 
 than the riverman. He would rather fight than eat, 
 especially when he is drunk, as, like the cow-boy, he 
 usually is when he gets into town. A history could 
 be written of the feuds, the wars, the raids instituted 
 ^y one camp or one town against another. 
 
 The men would go in force sometimes to another 
 city with the avowed purpose of cleaning it out. One 
 battle I know of lasted nearly all night. Deadly 
 weapons were almost never resorted to, unless indeed 
 a hundred and eighty pounds of muscle behind a fist 
 hard as iron might be considered a deadly weapon. 
 A man hard pressed by numbers often resorted to a 
 billiard cue, or an ax, or anything else that happened 
 to be handy, but that was an expedient called out by 
 necessity. Knives or six-shooters implied a certain 
 premeditation which was discountenanced. 
 
 On the other hand, the code of fair fighting obtained 
 hardly at all. The long spikes of river-boots made an 
 admirable weapon in the straight kick. I have seen 
 men whose faces were punctured as thickly as though 
 by small-pox, where the steel points had penetrated. 
 In a free-for-all knock-down-and-drag-out, kicking, 
 gouging, and biting are all legitimate. Anything to 
 injure the other man, provided always you do not knife
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 187 
 
 him. And when you take a half dozen of these endur- 
 ing, active, muscular, and fiery men, not one entertain- 
 ing in his innermost heart the faintest hesitation or fear, 
 and set them at each other with the lightning tireless- 
 ness of so many wild-cats, you get as hard a fight as 
 you could desire. And they seem to like it. 
 
 One old fellow, a good deal of a character in his 
 way, used to be on the " drive " for a firm lumbering 
 near Six Lakes. He was intensely loyal to his " Old 
 Fellows," and every time he got a little " budge " in 
 him, he instituted a raid on the town owned by a rival 
 firm. So frequent and so severe did these battles be- 
 come that finally the men we v re informed that another 
 such expedition would mean instant discharge. The 
 rule had its effect. The raids ceased. 
 
 But one day old Dan visited the saloon once too 
 often. He became very warlike. The other men 
 merely laughed, for they were strong enough them- 
 selves to recognize firmness in others, and it never 
 occurred to them that they could disobey so absolute 
 a command. So finally Dan started out quite alone. 
 
 He invaded the enemy's camp, attempted to clean 
 out the saloon with a billiard cue single handed, was 
 knocked down, and would have been kicked to death 
 as he lay on the floor if he had not succeeded in rolling 
 under the billiard table where the men's boots could 
 not reach him. As it was, his clothes were literally torn 
 to ribbons, one eye was blacked, his nose broken, one 
 ear hung to its place by a mere shred of skin, and his 
 face and flesh were ripped and torn everywhere by the 
 " corks " on the boots. Any but a riverman would 
 have qualified for the hospital. Dan rolled to the other 
 side of the table, made a sudden break, and escaped. 
 
 But his fighting blood was not all spilled. He raided 
 the butcher-shop, seized the big carving knife, and re- 
 turned to the battle field. 
 
 The nemy decamped rapidly some of them
 
 188 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 through the window. Dan managed to get in bat 
 one blow. He ripped the coat down the man's back 
 as neatly as though it had been done with shears, one 
 clean straight cut from collar to bottom seam. A quar- 
 ter of an inch nearer would have split the fellow's back- 
 bone. As it was, he escaped without even a scratch. 
 
 Dan commandeered two bottles of whisky, and, 
 gory and wounded as he was, took up the six-mile 
 tramp home, bearing the knife over his shoulder as a 
 banner of triumph. 
 
 Next morning, weak from the combined effects of 
 war and whisky, he reported to headquarters. 
 
 " What is it, Dan? " asked the Old Fellow without 
 turning. 
 
 " I come to get my time," replied the riverman 
 humbly. 
 
 " What for ? " inquired the lumberman. 
 
 " I have been over to Howard City," confessed Dan. 
 
 The owner turned and looked him over. 
 
 " They sort of got ahead of me a little," explained 
 Dan sheepishly. 
 
 The lumberman took stock of the old man's cuts 
 and bruises, and turned away to hide a smile. 
 
 " I guess I'll let you off this trip," said he. " Go 
 to work when you can. I don't believe you'll go 
 back there again." 
 
 " No, sir," replied Dan humbly. 
 
 And so the life of alternate work and pleasure, both 
 full of personal danger, develops in time a class of men 
 whose like is to be found only among the cowboys, 
 scouts, trappers, and Indian fighters of our other 
 frontiers. The moralists will always hold up the hands 
 of horror at such types; the philosopher will admire 
 them as the last incarnation of the heroic age, when 
 the man is bigger than his work. Soon the factories, 
 the machines, the mechanical structures and construc- 
 tions, the various branches of co-operation will produce
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 189 
 
 Efnaa-atitomatically institutions evidently more impor- 
 tant than the genius or force of any one human being. 
 The personal element will have become nearly elimi- 
 nated. In the woods and on the frontier still are many 
 whose powers are greater than their works; whose 
 fame is greater than their deeds. They are men, power- 
 ful, virile, even brutal at times; but magnificent with 
 the strength of courage and resource. 
 
 All this may seem a digression from the thread of 
 our tale, but as a matter of fact it is necessary that 
 you understand the conditions of the time and place 
 in which Harry Thorpe had set himself the duty of 
 success. 
 
 He had seen too much of incompetent labor to be 
 satisfied with anything but the best. Although his 
 ideas were not as yet formulated, he hoped to be able 
 to pick up a crew of first-class men from those who 
 had come down with the advance, or " jam," of the 
 spring's drive. They should have finished their orgies 
 by now, and, empty of pocket, should be found hang- 
 ing about the boarding-houses and the quieter saloons. 
 Thorpe intended to offer good wages for good men. 
 He would not need more than twenty at first, for 
 during the approaching winter he purposed to log on 
 a very small scale indeed. The time for expansion 
 would come later. 
 
 With this object in view he set out from his hotel 
 about half-past seven on the day of his arrival, to cruise 
 about in the lumber-jack district already described. 
 The hotel clerk had obligingly given him the names of 
 a number of the quieter saloons, where the boys " hung 
 out " between bursts of prosperity. In the first of 
 these Thorpe was helped materially in his vague and 
 uncertain quest by encountering an old acquaintance. 
 
 From the sidewalk he heard the vigorous sounds 
 of a one-sided altercation punctuated by frequent bursts 
 of quickly silenced laughter. Evidently some one was
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 very angry, and the rest amused. After a moment 
 Thorpe imagined he recognized the excited voice. So 
 he pushed open the swinging screen door and entered. 
 
 The place was typical. Across one side ran the 
 hard-wood bar with foot-rest and little towels hung 
 in metal clasps under its edge. Behind it was a long 
 mirror, a symmetrical pile of glasses, a number of 
 plain or ornamental bottles, and a miniature keg or 
 so of porcelain containing the finer whiskys and 
 brandies. The bar-keeper drew beer from two pumps 
 immediately in front of him, and rinsed glasses in some 
 sort of a sink under the edge of the bar. The center of 
 the room was occupied by a tremendous stove capable 
 of burning whole logs of cordwood. A stovepipe led 
 from the stove here and there in wire suspension to a 
 final exit near the other corner. On the wall were two 
 sporting chromos, and a good variety of lithographed 
 calendars and illuminated tin signs advertising beers 
 and spirits. The floor was liberally sprinkled with damp 
 sawdust, and was occupied, besides the stove, by a 
 number of wooden chairs and a single round table. 
 
 The latter, a clumsy heavy affair beyond the strength 
 of an ordinary man, was being deftly interposed be- 
 tween himself and the attacks of the possessor of 
 the angry voice by a gigantic young riverman in 
 the conventional stagged (i.e., chopped off) trousers, 
 " cork " shoes, and broad belt typical of his craft. 
 In the aggressor Thorpe recognized old Jackson 
 Hines. 
 
 " Damn you ! " cried the old man, qualifying the 
 oath, " let me get at you, you great big sock-stealer, 
 I'll make you hop high! I'll snatch you bald-headed 
 so quick that you'll think you never had anv hair! " 
 
 " Fll settle with you in the morning, Jackson," 
 laughed the riverman. 
 
 " You want to eat a good breakfast, then, because 
 you won't have no appetite for dinner."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 19* 
 
 "The men roared, with encouraging calls. The river- 
 man put on a ludicrous appearance of offended dig- 
 nity. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't swell up like a poisoned pup!" 
 cried old Jackson plaintively, ceasing his attacks from 
 sheer weariness. " You know you're as safe as a cow 
 tied to a brick wall behind that table." 
 
 Thorpe seized the opportunity to approach. 
 
 " Hello, Jackson," said he. 
 
 The old man peered at him out of the blur of hi* 
 excitement. 
 
 " Don't you know me?" inquired Thorpe. 
 
 " Them lamps gives 'bout as much light as a piece 
 of chalk," complained Jackson testily. " Knows you? 
 You bet I do! How are you, Harry? Where you been 
 keepin' yourself? You look *bout as fat as a stall-fed 
 knittin' needle." 
 
 " I've been landlooking in the upper peninsula," 
 explained Thorpe, " on the Ossawinamakee, up in the 
 Marquette country." 
 
 "Sho'l" commented Jackson in wonder, "way up 
 there where the moon changes! " 
 
 " It's a fine country," went on Thorpe so everyone 
 could hear, " with a great cutting of white pine. It 
 runs as high as twelve hundred thousand to the forty 
 sometimes." 
 
 " Trees clean an* free of limbs? " asked Jackson. 
 
 " They're as good as the stuff over on seventeen; 
 you remember that." 
 
 " Clean as a baby's leg," agreed Jackson. 
 
 " Have a glass of beer? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " Dry as a tobacco box," confessed Hines. 
 
 ** Have something, the rest of you? " invited Thorpe. 
 
 So they all drank. 
 
 On a sudden inspiration Thorpe resolved to ask the 
 old man's advice as to crew and horses. It might not 
 be good for much, but it would do no harm.
 
 192 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Jackson listened attentively to the other's brief re- 
 citaL 
 
 " Why don't you see Tim Shearer? He ain't doin' 
 nothin' since the jam came down," was his comment. 
 
 " Isn't he with the M. & D. people? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " Nope. Quit." 
 
 * How's that? " 
 
 " 'Count of Morrison. Morrison he comes up to u n 
 things some. He does. Tim he's getting the drive in 
 shape, and he don't want to be bothered, but old Mor- 
 rison he's as busy as hell beatin' tan-bark. Finally Tim, 
 he calls him. " ' Look here, Mr. Morrison/ says he, 
 " I'm runnin' this drive. If I don't get her there, all 
 right; you can give me my time. 'Till then you ain't 
 got nothin' to say/ 
 
 " Well, that makes the Old Fellow as sore as a 
 scalded pup. He's used to bossin' clerks and such 
 things, and don't have much of an idea of lumber- 
 jacks. He has big ideas of respect, so he ' calls ' Tim 
 dignified like. 
 
 " Tim didn't hit him ; but I guess he felt like th' man 
 who met the bear without any weapon, even a news- 
 paper would V come handy. He hands in his time 
 t' once and quits. Sence then he's been as mad as a 
 bar-keep with a lead quarter, which ain't usual for 
 Tim. He's been filin' his teeth for M. & D. right along. 
 Somethin's behind it all, I reckon." 
 
 "Where'll I find him?" asked Thorpe. 
 
 Jackson gave the name of a small boarding-house. 
 Shortly after, Thorpe left him to amuse the others with 
 bis unique conversation, and hunted up Shearer** 
 stopping-place.
 
 Cnaptei XXVHI 
 
 rHE boarding-house proved to be of the typical 
 lumber-jack class, a narrow " stoop,*' a hall- 
 way and stairs in the center, and an office and 
 bar on either side. Shearer and a half dozen other men 
 about his own age sat, their chairs on two legs and their 
 M cork " boots on the rounds of the chairs, smoking 
 olacidlv in the tepid eveniner air. The light came from 
 inside the building, so that while Thorpe, was in plain 
 view, he could not make out which of the dark figures 
 on the piazza, was the man he wanted. He approached, 
 and attempted an identifying scrutiny. The men, with 
 the taciturnity of their class in the presence of a 
 stranger, said nothing. 
 
 " Well, bub," finally drawled a voice from the corner, 
 *' blowed that stake you made out of Radway, yet? " 
 
 "That you, Shearer?" inquired Thorpe advancing. 
 " You're the man I'm looking for." 
 
 " You've found me," replied the old man dryly. 
 
 Thorpe was requested elaborately to " shake hands ** 
 with the owners of six names. Then he had a chance 
 to intimate quietly to Shearer that he wanted a word 
 with him alone. The riverman rose silently and led 
 the way up the straight, uncarpeted stairs, along a 
 narrow, uncarpeted hall, to a square, uncarpeted bed- 
 room. The walls and ceiling of this apartment were of 
 unpainted planed pine. It contained a cheap bureau, 
 one chair, and a bed and washstand to match the 
 bureau. Shearer lit the lamp and sat on the bed. 
 
 " What is it? " he asked. 
 
 " I have a little pine up in the northern peninsula 
 
 193
 
 194 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 within walking distance of Marquette," said Thorpe, 
 " and I want to get a crew of about twenty men. It 
 occurred to me that you might be willing to help 
 me." 
 
 The riverman frowned steadily at his interlocutor 
 from under his bushy brows. 
 
 " How much pine you got?" he asked finally. 
 
 " About three hundred millions," replied Thorpe 
 quietly. 
 
 The old man's blue eyes fixed themselves with un- 
 wavering steadiness on Thorpe's face. 
 
 "You're jobbing some of it, eh?" he submitted 
 finally as the only probable conclusion. " Do you think 
 you know enough about it ? Who does it belong to ? " 
 
 " It belongs to a man named Carpenter and my- 
 self." 
 
 The riverman pondered this slowly for an appre- 
 ciable interval, and then shot out another question. 
 
 "How'dyougetit?" 
 
 Thorpe told him simply, omitting nothing except 
 the name of the firm up-river. When he had finished, 
 Shearer evinced no astonishment nor approval. 
 
 " You done well," he commented finally. Then after 
 another interval: 
 
 " Have you found out who was the men stealin' the 
 pine? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Thorpe quietly, " it was Morrison 
 & Daly." 
 
 The old man flickered not an eyelid. He slowly 
 filled his pipe and lit it. 
 
 " I'll get you a crew of men," said he, " if you'll 
 take me as foreman." 
 
 " But it's a little job at first," protested Thorpe. " I 
 only want a camp of twenty. It wouldn't be worth 
 your while." 
 
 " That's my look-out. I'll take th' job," replied the 
 logger grimly. " You got three hundred million there,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 195 
 
 ain't you? And you're goin' to cut it? It ain't such a 
 small job." 
 
 Thorpe could hardly believe his good-fortune in 
 having gained so important a recruit. With a practical 
 man as foreman, his mind would be relieved of a great 
 Jeal of worry over unfamiliar detail. He saw at once 
 that he would himself be able to perform all the duties 
 of sealer, keep in touch with the needs of the camp, 
 and supervise the campaign. Nevertheless he an- 
 swered the older man's glance with one as keen, and 
 said: 
 
 " Look here, Shearer, if you take this job, we may as 
 well understand each other at the start. This is going 
 to be my camp, and I'm going to be boss. I don't 
 know much about logging, and I shall want you to 
 take charge of all that, but I shall want to know just 
 why you do each thing, and if my judgment advises 
 otherwise, my judgment goes. If I want to discharge 
 a man, he walks without any question. I know about 
 what I shall expect of each man; and I intend to get 
 it out of him. And in questions of policy mine is the 
 say-so every trip. Now I know you're a good man, 
 one of the best there is, and I presume I shall find 
 your judgment the best, but I don't want any mistakes 
 to start with. If you want to be my foreman on those 
 terms, just say so, and I'll be tickled to death to have 
 you." 
 
 For the first time the lumberman's face lost, during 
 a single instant, its mask of immobility. His steel- 
 blue eyes flashed, his mouth twitched with some strong 
 emotion. For the first time, too, he spoke without 
 his contemplative pause of preparation. 
 
 " That's th' way to talk! " he cried. " Go with you? 
 Well I should rise to remark! You're the boss; and 
 I always said it. I'll get you a gang of bully boys 
 that will roll logs till there's skating in hell! " 
 
 Thorpe left, after making an appointment at his own
 
 196 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 hotel for the following day, more than pleased with 
 his luck. Although he had by now fairly good and 
 practical ideas in regard to the logging of a bunch of 
 pine, he felt himself to be very deficient in the details. 
 In fact, he anticipated his next step with shaky confi- 
 dence. He would now be called upon to buy four 
 or five teams of horses, and enough feed to last them 
 the entire winter; he would have to arrange for pro- 
 visions in abundance and variety for his men; he would 
 have to figure on blankets, harness, cook-camp uten- 
 sils, stoves, blacksmith tools, iron, axes, chains, cant- 
 hooks, van-goods, pails, lamps, oil, matches, all sorts 
 of hardware, in short, all the thousand and one 
 things, from needles to court-plaster, of which a self- 
 sufficing community might come in need. And he 
 would have to figure out his requirements for the en- 
 tire winter. After navigation closed, he could import 
 nothing more. 
 
 How could he know what to buy, how many bar- 
 rels of flour, how much coffee, raisins, baking powder, 
 soda, pork, beans, dried apples, sugar, nutmeg, pepper, 
 salt, crackers, molasses, ginger, lard, tea, corned beef, 
 catsup, mustard, to last twenty men five or six 
 months? How could he be expected to think of each 
 item of a list of two hundred, the lack of which meant 
 measureless bother, and the desirability of which sug- 
 gested itself only when the necessity arose? It is easy, 
 when the mind is occupied with multitudinous detail, 
 to forget simple things, like brooms or iron shovels. 
 With Tim Shearer to help his inexperience, he felt 
 easy. He knew he could attend to advantageous buy- 
 ing, and to making arrangements with the steamship 
 line to Marquette for the landing of his goods at the 
 mouth of the Ossawinamakee. 
 
 Deep in these thoughts, he wandered on at random. 
 He suddenly came to himself in the toughest quarter 
 of Bay City.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 197 
 
 Through the summer night shrilled the sound of 
 cachinations painted to the colors ol mirth. A cheap 
 piano rattled and thumped through an open window. 
 Men's and women's voices mingled in rising and fall- 
 ing gradations of harshness. Lights streamed irregu- 
 larly across the dark. 
 
 Thorpe became aware of a figure crouched in the 
 door-way almost at his feet. The sill lay in shadow so 
 the bulk was lost, but the flickering rays of a distant 
 street lamp threw into relief the high-lights of a violin, 
 and a head. The face upturned to him was thin and 
 white and wolfish under a broad white brow. Dark 
 eyes gleamed at him with the expression of a fierce 
 animal. Across the forehead ran a long but shallow 
 cut from which blood dripped. The creature clasped 
 both arms around a violin. He crouched there and 
 stared up at Thorpe, who stared down at him. 
 
 " What's the matter? " asked the latter finally. 
 
 The creature made no reply, but drew his arms 
 closer about his instrument, and blinked his wolf eyes. 
 
 Moved by some strange, half-tolerant whim of 
 compassion, Thorpe made a sign to the unknown to 
 rise. 
 
 " Come with me," said he, " and I'll have your 
 forehead attended to." 
 
 The wolf eyes gleamed into his with a sudden savage 
 concentration. Then their owner obediently arose. 
 
 Thorpe now saw that the body before him was of 
 a cripple, short-legged, hunch-backed, long-armed, 
 pigeon-breasted. The large head sat strangely top- 
 heavy between even the broad shoulders. It confirmed 
 the hopeless but sullen despair that brooded on the 
 white countenance. 
 
 At the hotel Thorpe, examining the cut, found it 
 more serious in appearance than in reality. With a 
 few pieces of sticking plaster he drew its edges to- 
 gether.
 
 198 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Then he attempted to interrogate his find. 
 
 " What is your name? " he asked. 
 
 " Phil." 
 
 "Phil what?*' 
 
 Silence. 
 
 " How did you get hurt? * 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Were you playing your fiddle in one of those 
 houses? " 
 
 The cripple nodded slowly. 
 
 " Are you hungry ? " asked Thorpe, with a sudden 
 thoughtfulness. 
 
 " Yes," replied the cripple, with a lightning gleam in 
 his wolf eyes. 
 
 Thorpe rang the bell. To the boy who answered it 
 he said: 
 
 " Bring me half a dozen beef sandwiches and a glass 
 of milk, and be quick about it." 
 
 " Do you play the fiddle much? " continued Thorpe. 
 
 The cripple nodded again. 
 
 " Let's hear what you can do." 
 
 " They cut my strings! " cried Phil with a passionate 
 wail. 
 
 The cry came from the heart, and Thorpe was 
 touched by it. The price of strings was evidently a big 
 sum. 
 
 " I'll get you more in the morning," said he. 
 " Would you like to leave Bay City? " 
 
 " Yes ! " cried the boy with passion. 
 
 " You would have to work. You would have to be 
 chore-boy in a lumber camp, and play fiddle for the 
 men when they wanted you to." 
 
 " I'll do it," said the cripple. 
 
 "Are you sure you could? You will have to split 
 all the wood for the men, the cook, and the office; 
 you will haye to draw the water, and fill the lamps,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 199 
 
 and keep the camps clean. You will be paid for it, 
 but it is quite a job. And you would have to do it 
 well. If you did not do it well, I would discharge 
 you." 
 
 " I will do it ! " repeated the cripple with a shade 
 more earnestness, 
 
 " All right, then I'll take you," replied Thorpe. 
 
 The cripple said nothing, nor moved a muscle of 
 his face, but the gleam of the wolf faded to give place 
 to the soft, affectionate glow seen in the eyes of a setter 
 dog. Thorpe was startled at the change. 
 
 A knock announced the sandwiches and milk. The 
 cripple fell upon them with both hands in a sudden 
 ecstacy of hunger. When he had finished, he looked 
 again at Thorpe, and this time there were tears in his 
 eyes. 
 
 A little later Thorpe interviewed the proprietor of 
 the hotel. 
 
 " I wish you'd give this boy a good cheap room and 
 charge his keep to me," said he. " He's going north 
 with me." 
 
 Phil was led away by the irreverent porter, hugging 
 tightly his unstrung violin to his bosom. 
 
 Thorpe lay awake for some time after retiring. Phil 
 claimed a share of his thoughts. 
 
 Thorpe's winter in the woods had impressed upon 
 him that a good cook and a fiddler will do more to keep 
 men contented than high wages and easy work. So 
 his protection of the cripple was not entirely disinter- 
 ested. But his imagination persisted in occupying 
 itself with the boy. What terrible life of want and 
 vicious associates had he led in this terrible town? 
 What treatment could have lit that wolf-gleam in his 
 eyes? What hell had he inhabited that he was so eager 
 to get away? In an hour or so he dozed. He dreamed 
 that the cripple had grown to enormous proportions
 
 200 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 and was overshadowing his life. A slight noise outside 
 his bed-room door brought him to his feet. 
 
 He opened the door and found that in the stillness 
 of the night the poor deformed creature had taken the 
 blankets from his bed and had spread them across the 
 door-sill of the man who had befriended him.
 
 Chapter XXIX 
 
 ^P"**HREE weeks later the steam barge Pole 
 
 m sailed down the reach of Saginaw Bay. 
 M Thorpe had received letters from Carpenter 
 
 advising- him of a credit to him at a Marquette bank, 
 and inclosing a draft sufficient for current expenses. 
 Tim Shearer had helped make out the list of neces- 
 saries. In time everything was loaded, the gang- 
 plank hauled in, and the little band of Argonauts set 
 their faces toward the point where the Big Dipper 
 swings. 
 
 The weather was beautiful. Each morning the sun 
 rose out of the frosty blue lake water, and set in a sea 
 of deep purple. The moon, once again at the full, 
 drew broad paths across the pathless waste. From the 
 southeast blew daily the lake trades, to die at sunset, 
 and then to return in the soft still nights from the wesu 
 A more propitious beginning for the adventure could 
 not be imagined. 
 
 The ten horses in the hold munched their hay and 
 oats as peaceably as though a* home in their own 
 stables. Jackson Hines had helped select them from 
 the stock of firms changing locality or going out of 
 business. His judgment in such matters was infallible, 
 but he had resolutely refused to take the position of 
 barn-boss which Thorpe offered him. 
 
 " No," said he, " she's too far north. I'm gettin' old, 
 and the rheumatics ain't what you might call aban- 
 donin' of me. Up there it's colder than hell on a 
 stoker's holiday." 
 
 So Shearer had picked out a barn-boss of his own. 
 
 401
 
 202 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 This man was important, for the horses are the main- 
 stay of logging operations. He had selected also, a 
 blacksmith, a cook, four teamsters, half a dozen cant- 
 hook men, and as many handy with ax or saw. 
 
 " The blacksmith is also a good wood-butcher (car- 
 penter)," explained Shearer. " Four teams is all we 
 ought to keep going at a clip. If we need a few ax- 
 
 f meri, we can pick 'em up at Marquette. I think this 
 
 'gang'll stick. I picked 'em." 
 
 There was not a young man in the lot. They were 
 most of them in the prime of middle life, between 
 thirty and forty, rugged in appearance, " cocky " in 
 manner, with the swagger and the oath of so many 
 buccaneers, hard as nails. Altogether Thorpe thought 
 them about as rough a set of customers as he had ever 
 seen. Throughout the day they played cards on deck, 
 and spat tobacco juice abroad, and swore incessantly. 
 Toward himself and Shearer their manner was an odd 
 mixture of independent equality and a slight deference. 
 It was as much as to say, " You're the boss, but I'm as 
 good a man as you any day." They would be a rough, 
 turbulent, unruly mob to handle, but under a strong 
 man they might accomplish wonders. 
 
 Constituting the elite of the profession, as it were, 
 whose swagger every lad new to the woods and 
 river tried to emulate, to whom lesser lights looked 
 up as heroes and models, and whose lofty, half-con- 
 temptuous scorn of everything and everybody outside 
 their circle of " bully boys " was truly the aristocracy 
 of class, Thorpe might have wondered at their con- 
 senting to work for an obscure little camp belonging 
 to a greenhorn. Loyalty to and pride in the firm for 
 which he works is a strong characteristic of the lumber- 
 jack. He will fight at the drop of a hat on behalf of 
 his " Old Fellows " ; brag loud and long of the season's 
 cut, the big loads, the smart methods of his camps; 
 and even after he has been discharged for some
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 203 
 
 flagrant debauch, he cherishes no rancor, but speaks 
 with soft reminiscence to the end of his days concern- 
 ing " that winter in '81 when the Old Fellows put in 
 sixty million on Flat River." 
 
 For this reason he feels that he owes it to his repu- 
 tation to ally himself only with firms of creditable size 
 and efficiency. The small camps are for the young- 
 sters. Occasionally you will see two or three of the 
 veterans in such a camp, but it is generally a case of 
 lacking something better. 
 
 The trutn is, Shearer had managed to inspire in the 
 minds of his cronies an idea that they were about to 
 participate in a fight. He re-told Thorpe's story 
 artistically, shading the yellows and the reds. He 
 detailed the situation as it existed. The men agreed 
 that the " young fellow had sand enough for a lake 
 front." After that there needed but a little skillful 
 maneuvering to inspire them with the idea that it would 
 be a great thing to take a hand, to " make a camp '* 
 in spite of the big concern up-river. 
 
 Shearer knew that this attitude was tentative. Every- 
 thing depended on how well Thorpe lived up to his 
 reputation at the outset, how good a first impression 
 of force and virility he would manage to convey, for 
 the first impression possessed the power of transmut- 
 ing the present rather ill-defined enthusiasm into 
 loyalty or dissatisfaction. But Tim himself believed 
 in Thorpe blindly. So he had no fears. 
 
 A little incident at the beginning of the voyage did 
 much to reassure him. It was on the old question oi 
 whisky. 
 
 Thorpe had given orders that no whisky was to be 
 brought aboard, as he intended to tolerate no high-sea 
 orgies. Soon after leaving dock he saw one of the 
 teamsters drinking from a pint flask. Without a word 
 he stepped briskly forward, snatched the bottle from 
 the man's lips, and threw it overboard. Then he turned
 
 204 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 sharp on his heel and walked away, without troubling 
 himself as to how the fellow was going to take it. 
 
 Tke occurrence pleased the men, for it showed them 
 they had made no mistake. But it meant little else. 
 The chief danger really was lest they become too set- 
 tled in the protective attitude. As they took it, they 
 were about, good-naturedly, to help along a worthy 
 greenhorn. This they considered exceedingly gener- 
 ous on their part, and in their own minds they were 
 inclined to look on Thorpe much as a grown man 
 would look on a child. There needed an occasion for 
 him to prove himself bigger than they. 
 
 Fine weather followed them up the long blue reach 
 of Lake Huron ; into the noble breadth of the Detour 
 Passage, past the opening through the Thousand 
 Islands of the Georgian Bay ; into the St. Mary's River. 
 They were locked through after some delay on account 
 of the grain barges from Duluth, and at last turned 
 their prow westward in the Big Sea Water, beyond 
 which lay Hiawatha's Po-ne-mah, the Land of the 
 Hereafter. 
 
 Thorpe was about late that night, drinking in the 
 mystic beauty of the scene. Northern lights, pale and 
 dim, stretched their arc across beneath the Dipper. 
 The air, soft as the dead leaves of spring, fanned his 
 cheek. By and by the moon, like a red fire at sea, 
 lifted itself from the waves. Thorpe made his way to 
 the stern, beyond the square deck house, where he 
 intended to lean on the rail in silent contemplation of 
 the moon-path. 
 
 He found another before him. Phil, the little 
 cripple, was peering into the wonderful east, its light 
 in his eyes. He did not look at Thorpe when the latter 
 approached, but seemed aware of his presence, for he 
 moved swiftly to give room. 
 
 "It is very beautiful; isn't it, Phil?" said Thorpe 
 After a moment
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 205 
 
 * It is the Heart Song of the Sea," replied the crippfe 
 m a hushed voice. 
 
 Thorpe looked down surprised. 
 
 "Who told you that?" he asked. 
 
 But the cripple, repeating the words of a chance 
 preacher, could explain himself no farther. In a dim 
 way the ready-made phrase had expressed the smoth- 
 ered poetic craving of his heart, the belief that the 
 sea, the sky, the woods, the men and women, you, I, 
 all have our Heart Songs, the Song which is most 
 beautiful. 
 
 " The Heart Song of the Sea," he repeated gropingly, 
 * I don't know ... I play it," and he made the 
 motion of drawing a bow across strings, " very still and 
 low." And this was all Thorpe's question could elicit 
 
 Thorpe fell silent in the spell of the night, and pon- 
 dered over the chances of life which had cast on the 
 shores of the deep as driftwood the soul of a poet. 
 
 " Your Song," said the cripple timidly, " some day 
 I will hear it. Not yet. That night in Bay City, when 
 you took me in, I heard it very dim. But I cannot 
 play it yet on my violin." 
 
 " Has your violin a song of its own?*' queried the 
 man. 
 
 " I cannot hear it. It tries to sing, but there is some- 
 thing in the way. I cannot. Some day I will hear it 
 and play it, but " and he drew nearer Thorpe and 
 touched his arm " that day will be very bad for me. 
 I lose something." His eyes of the wistful dog were 
 big and wondering. 
 
 " Queer little Phil! " cried Thorpe laughing whim- 
 sically. " Who tells you these things? " 
 
 " Nobody," said the cripple dreamily, " they come 
 when it is like to-night. In Bay City they do not 
 come." 
 
 At this moment a third voice broke in on them. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, Mr. Thorpe," said the captain of the
 
 vessel. ** Thought it was some of them lumber-jacks, 
 and I was going to fire 'em below. Fine night." 
 
 " It is that," answered Thorpe, again the cold, un- 
 responsive man of reticence. " When do you expect 
 to get in, Captain?" 
 
 " About to-morrow noon," replied the captain, mov- 
 ing away. Thorpe followed him a short distance, dis- 
 cussing the landing. The cripple stood all night, his 
 bright, luminous eyes gazing clear and unwinking at 
 the moonlight, listening to his Heart Song of the
 
 Chapter XXX 
 
 Tt "TEXT morning- continued the traditions of its 
 
 l\i calm predecessors. Therefore by daybreak 
 X V every man was at work. The hatches were 
 opened, and soon between-decks was cumbered with 
 boxes, packing cases, barrels, and crates. In their im- 
 provised stalls, the patient horses seemed to catch a 
 hint of shore-going and whinnied. By ten o'clock there 
 loomed against the strange coast line of the Pictured 
 Rocks, a shallow bay and what looked to be a dock 
 distorted by the northern mirage. 
 
 " That's her," said the captain. 
 
 Two hours later the steamboat swept a wide curve, 
 slid between the yellow waters of two outlying reefs, 
 and, with slackened speed, moved slowly toward the 
 wharf of log cribs filled with stone. 
 
 The bay or the dock Thorpe had never seen. He 
 took them on the captain's say-so. He knew very well 
 that the structure had been erected by and belonged to 
 Morrison & Daly, but the young man had had the fore- 
 sight to purchase the land lying on the deep water side 
 of the bay. He therefore anticipated no trouble in 
 unloading; for while Morrison & Daly owned the pier 
 itself, the land on which it abutted belonged to him. 
 
 From the arms of the bay he could make out a dozen 
 figures standing near the end of the wharf. When, 
 with propeller reversed, the Pole Star bore slowly down 
 towards her moorings, Thorpe recognized Dyer at the 
 head of eight or ten woodsmen. The sight of Radway's 
 old sealer somehow filled him with a quiet but danger- 
 
 307
 
 208 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 ous anger, especially since that official, on whom rested 
 a portion at least of the responsibility of the jobber's 
 failure, was now found in the employ of the very com- 
 pany which had attempted that failure. It looked 
 suspicious. 
 
 " Catch this line! " sung out the mate, hurling the 
 coil of a handline on the wharf. 
 
 No one moved, and the little rope, after a moment, 
 slid overboard with a splash. 
 
 The captain, with a curse, signalled full speed astern. 
 
 " Captain Morse ! " cried Dyer, stepping forward. 
 " My orders are that you are to land here nothing but 
 M. & D. merchandise." 
 
 " I have a right to land," answered Thorpe, " The 
 shore belongs to me." 
 
 "This dock doesn't," retorted the other sharply, 
 " and you can't set foot on her." 
 
 " You have no legal status. You had no business 
 
 building in the first place " began Thorpe, and 
 
 then stopped with a choke of anger at the futility of 
 arguing legality in such a case. 
 
 The men had gathered interestedly in the waist of 
 the ship, cool, impartial, severely critical. The vessel, 
 gathering speed astern, but not yet obeying her re- 
 versed helm, swung her bow in towards the dock. 
 Thorpe ran swiftly forward, and during the instant of 
 rubbing contact, leaped. 
 
 He alighted squarely upon his feet. Without an in- 
 stant's hesitation, hot with angry energy at finding his 
 enemy within reach of his hand, he rushed on Dyer, 
 and with one full, clean in-blow stretched him stunned 
 on the dock. For a moment there was a pause of 
 astonishment. Then the woodsmen closed upon 
 him. 
 
 During that instant Thorpe had become possessed of 
 a weapon. It came hurling through the air from above 
 to fall at his feet Shearer, with the cool calculation
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 209 
 
 of the pioneer whom no excitement can distract from 
 the main issue, had seen that it would be impossible to 
 follow his chief, and so had done the next best thing, 
 thrown him a heavy iron belaying pin. 
 
 Thorpe was active, alert, and strong. The men 
 could come at him only in front. As offset, he could 
 not give ground, even for one step. Still, in the hands 
 of a powerful man, the belaying pin is by no means a 
 despicable weapon. Thorpe hit with all his strength 
 and quickness. He was conscious once of being on the 
 point of defeat. Then he had cleared a little space 
 for himself. Then the men were on him again more 
 savagely than ever. One fellow even succeeded in hit- 
 ting him a glancing blow on the shoulder. 
 
 Then came a sudden crash. Thorpe was nearly 
 thrown from his feet. The next instant a score of yell- 
 ing men leaped behind and all around him. There 
 ensued a moment's scuffle, the sound of dull blows; 
 and the dock was clear of all but Dyer and three others 
 who were, like himself, unconscious. The captain, 
 yielding to the excitement, had run his prow plump 
 against the wharf. 
 
 Some of the crew received the mooring lines. AH 
 was ready for disembarkation. 
 
 Bryan Moloney, a strapping Irish-American of the 
 big-boned, red-cheeked type, threw some water over 
 the four stunned combatants. Slowly they came to 
 life. They were promptly yanked to their feet by the 
 irate rivermen, who commenced at once to bestow 
 sundry vigorous kicks and shakings by way of punish- 
 ment. Thorpe interposed. 
 
 " Quit it! " he commanded. " Let them go! " 
 
 The men grumbled. One or two were inclined to 
 be openly rebellious. 
 
 " If I hear another peep out of you," said Thorpe 
 to these latter, " you can climb right aboard and take 
 the return trip." He looked them in the eye until they
 
 210 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 muttered, and then went on : " Now, we've got to get 
 unloaded and our goods ashore before those fellows 
 report to camp. Get right moving, and hustle! " 
 
 If the men expected any comment, approval, or 
 familiarity from their leader on account of their little 
 fracas, they were disappointed. This was a good thing. 
 The lumber-jack demands in his boss a certain funda- 
 mental unapproachability, whatever surface bonlwmie 
 he may evince. 
 
 So Dyer and his men picked themselves out of the 
 trouble sullenly and departed. The ex-sealer had 
 nothing to say as long as he was within reach, but 
 when he had gained the shore, he turned. 
 
 " You won't think this is so funny when you get in 
 the law-courts! " he shouted. 
 
 Thorpe made no reply. " I guess we'll keep even," 
 he muttered. 
 
 " By the jumping Moses/' snarled Scotty Parsons 
 turning in threat. 
 
 " Scotty ! " said Thorpe sharply. 
 
 Scotty turned back to his task, which was to help 
 the blacksmith put together the wagon, the component 
 parts of which the others had trundled out. 
 
 With thirty men at the job it does not take a great 
 while to move a small cargo thirty or forty feet. By 
 three o'clock the Pole Star was ready to continue her 
 journey. Thorpe climbed aboard, leaving Shearer in 
 charge. 
 
 " Keep the men at it, Tim," said he. " Put up the 
 walls of the warehouse good and strong, and move the 
 stuff in. If it rains, you can spread the tent over the 
 roof, and camp in with the provisions. If you get 
 through before I return, you might take a scout up 
 the river and fix on a camp site. I'll bring back the 
 lumber for roofs, floors, and trimmings with me, and 
 will try to pick up a few axmen for swamping. Above 
 all things, have a good man or so always in charge.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 211 
 
 Those fellows won't bother us any more for the pres- 
 ent, I think ; but it pays to be on deck. So long." 
 
 In Marquette, Thorpe arranged for the cashing of 
 his time checks and orders; bought lumber at the mills; 
 talked contract with old Harvey, the mill-owner and 
 prospective buyer of the young man's cut ; and engaged 
 four axmen whom he found loafing about, waiting for 
 the season to open. 
 
 When he returned to the bay ic found the warehouse 
 complete except for the roofs and gables. These, with 
 their reinforcement of tar-paper, were nailed on in 
 short order. Shearer and Andrews, the surveyor, were 
 scouting up the river. 
 
 " No trouble from above, boys? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " Nary trouble," they replied. 
 
 The warehouse was secured by padlocks, the wagon 
 loaded with the tent and the necessaries of life and 
 work. Early in the morning the little procession 
 laughing, joking, skylarking with the high spirits of 
 men in the woods took its way up the river-trail. 
 Late that evening, tired, but still inclined to mischief, 
 they came to the first dam, where Shearer and An- 
 drews met them. 
 
 "How do you like it, Tim?" asked Thorpe that 
 evening. 
 
 " She's all right," replied the riverman with em- 
 phasis; which, for him, was putting it strong. 
 
 At noon of the following day the party arrived at 
 the second dam. Here Shearer had decided to build 
 the permanent camp. Injin Charley was constructing 
 one of his endless series of birch-bark canoes. Later 
 he would paddle the whole string to Marquette, where 
 he would sell them to a hardware dealer for two dollars 
 and a half apiece. 
 
 To Thorpe, who had walked on ahead with his fore- 
 man, it seemed that he had never been away. There 
 was the knoll; the rude camp with the deer hides; the
 
 212 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 venison hanging suspended from the pole; the endless 
 broil and tumult of the clear north-country stream; the 
 yellow glow over the hill opposite. Yet he had gone 
 a nearly penniless adventurer; he returned at the head 
 of an enterprise. 
 
 Injin Charley looked up and grunted as Thorpe ap- 
 proached. 
 
 "How are you, Charley?" greeted Thorpe reti- 
 cently. 
 
 " You gettum pine? Good! " replied Charley in the 
 same tone. 
 
 That was all; for strong men never talk freely erf 
 what is in their hearts. There is no need; they under- 
 stand.
 
 Chapter XXXI 
 
 rWO months passed away. Winter set in. The 
 camp was built and inhabited. Routine had 
 established itself, and all was going well. 
 
 The first move of the M. & D. Company had been 
 one of conciliation. Thorpe was approached by the 
 walking-boss of the camps up-river. The man made 
 no reference to or excuse for what had occurred, nor 
 did he pretend to any hypocritical friendship for the 
 younger firm. His proposition was entirely one of 
 mutual advantage. The Company had gone to consid- 
 erable expense in constructing the pier of stone cribs. 
 It would be impossible for the steamer to land at any 
 other point. Thorpe had undisputed possession of the 
 shore, but the Company could as indisputably remove 
 the dock. Let it stay where it was. Both companies 
 could then use it for their mutual convenience. 
 
 To this Thorpe agreed. Baker, the walking-boss, 
 tried to get him to sign a contract to that effect. 
 Thorpe refused. 
 
 " Leave your dock where it is and use it when you 
 want to," said he. " I'll agree not to interfere as long 
 as you people behave yourselves." 
 
 The actual logging was opening up well. Both 
 Shearer and Thorpe agreed that it would not do to be 
 too ambitious the first year. They set about clearing 
 their banking ground about a half mile below the first 
 dam; and during the six weeks before snow-fall cut 
 three short roads of half a mile each. Approximately 
 two million feet would be put in from these roads 
 which could be extended in years to come while 
 
 aw
 
 214 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 another million could be travoyed directly to the land- 
 ing from its immediate vicinity. 
 
 " We won't skid them," said Tim. " We'll haul from 
 the stump to the bank. And we'll tackle only a snow- 
 road proposition : we ain't got time to monkey with 
 buildin' sprinklers and plows this year. We'll make 
 a little stake ahead, and then next year we'll do it right 
 and get in twenty million. That railroad'll get along 
 a ways by then, and men'll be more plenty." 
 
 Through the lengthening evenings they sat crouched 
 on wooden boxes either side of the stove, conversing 
 rarely, gazing at one spot with a steady persistency 
 which was only an outward indication of the persistency 
 with which their minds held to the work in hand. Tim, 
 the older at the business, showed this trait more 
 strongly than Thorpe. The old man thought of noth- 
 ing but logging. From the stump to the bank, from 
 the bank to the camp, from the camp to the stump 
 again, his restless intelligence travelled tirelessly, pick- 
 ing up, turning over, examining the littlest details with 
 an ever-fresh curiosity and interest. Nothing was 
 too small to escape this deliberate scrutiny. Nothing 
 was in so perfect a state that it did not bear one more 
 inspection. He played the logging as a chess player 
 his game. One by one he adopted the various possi- 
 bilities, remote and otherwise, as hypotheses, and 
 thought out to the uttermost copper rivet what would 
 be the best method of procedure in case that possibility 
 should confront him. 
 
 Occasionally Thorpe would introduce some other 
 topic of conversation. The old man would listen to his 
 remark with the attention of courtesy; would allow a 
 decent period of silence to intervene; and then, revert- 
 ing to the old subject without comment on the new, 
 would emit one of his terse practical suggestions, result 
 of a long spell of figuring. That is how success is 
 made.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 215 
 
 In the men's camp the crew lounged, smoked, 
 danced, or played cards. In those days no one thought 
 of forbidding gambling. One evening Thorpe, who 
 had been too busy to remember Phil's violin, al- 
 though he noticed, as he did every other detail of the 
 camp, the cripple's industry, and the precision with 
 which he performed his duties, strolled over and 
 looked through the window. A dance was in progress. 
 The men were waltzing, whirling solemnly round and 
 round, gripping firmly each other's loose sleeves just 
 above the elbow. At every third step of the waltz they 
 stamped one foot. 
 
 Perched on a cracker box sat Phil. His head was 
 thrust forward almost aggressively over his instru- 
 ment, and his eyes glared at the dancing men with the 
 old wolf-like gleam. As he played, he drew the bow 
 across with a swift jerk, thrust it back with another, 
 threw his shoulders from one side to the other in 
 abrupt time to the music. And the music 1 Thorpe 
 unconsciously shuddered; then sighed in pity. It was 
 atrocious. It was not even in tune. Two out of three 
 of the notes were either sharp or flat, not so flagrantly 
 as to produce absolute disharmony, but just enough to 
 set the teeth on edge. And the rendition was as color- 
 less as that of a poor hand-organ. 
 
 The performer seemed to grind out his fearful stuff 
 with a fierce delight, in which appeared little of the 
 sesthetic pleasure of the artist. Thorpe was at a loss 
 to define it. 
 
 " Poor Phil," he said to himself. " He has the musi- 
 cal soul without even the musical earl " 
 
 Next day, while passing out of the cook camp he 
 Addressed one of the men: 
 
 44 Well, Billy," he inquired, " how do you like your 
 fiddler?" 
 
 " All right! " replied Billy with emphasis. " She's 
 got some go to her."
 
 216 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 In the woods the work proceeded finely. From the 
 travoy sledges and the short roads a constant stream 
 of logs emptied itself on the bank. There long parallel 
 skidways had been laid the whole width of the river 
 valley. Each log as it came was dragged across those 
 monster andirons and rolled to the bank of the river. 
 The cant-hook men dug their implements into the 
 rough bark, leaned, lifted, or clung to the projecting 
 stocks until slowly the log moved, rolling with gradu- 
 ally increasing momentum. Then they attacked it 
 with fury lest the momentum be lost. Whenever it 
 began to deviate from the straight rolling necessary to 
 keep it on the center of the skids, one of the workers 
 thrust the shoe of his cant-hook under one end of the 
 log. That end promptly stopped; the other, still roll- 
 ing, soon caught up; and the log moved on evenly, as 
 was fitting. 
 
 At the end of the rollway the log collided with other 
 logs and stopped with the impact of one bowling ball 
 against another. The men knew that being caught 
 between the two meant death or crippling for life. 
 Nevertheless they escaped from the narrowing interval 
 at the latest possible moment, for it is easier to keep a 
 log rolling than to start it. 
 
 Then other men piled them by means of long steel 
 chains and horses, just as they would have skidded them 
 in the woods. Only now the logs mounted up and up 
 until the skidways were thirty or forty feet high. 
 Eventually the pile of logs would fill the banking 
 ground utterly, burying the landing under a nearly 
 continuous carpet of timber as thick as a two-story 
 house is tall. The work is dangerous. A saw log 
 containing six hundred board feet weighs about one 
 ton. This is the weight of an ordinary iron safe 
 When one of them rolls or falls from even a moderate 
 height, its force is irresistible. But when twenty or 
 thirty cascade down the bold front of a skidway, carry-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 217 
 
 ing a man or so with them, the affair becomes a catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 Thorpe's men, however, were all old-timers, and 
 nothing of the sort occurred. At first it made him catch 
 his breath to see the apparent chances they took; but 
 after a little he perceived that seeming luck was in 
 reality a coolness of judgment and a long experience in 
 the peculiar ways of that most erratic of inanimate 
 cussedness the pine log. The banks grew daily. 
 Everybody was safe and sound. 
 
 The young lumberman had sense enough to know 
 that, while a crew such as his is supremely effective, it 
 requires careful handling to keep it good-humored and 
 willing. He knew every man by his first name, and each 
 day made it a point to talk with him for a moment or 
 so. The subject was invariably some phase of the 
 work. Thorpe never permitted himself the familiarity 
 of introducing any other topic. By this course he pre- 
 served the nice balance between too great reserve, 
 which chills the lumber-jack's rather independent en- 
 thusiasm, and the too great familiarity, which loses his 
 respect. He never replied directly to an objection or 
 a request, but listened to it non-committally; and later, 
 without explanation or reasoning, acted as his judg- 
 ment dictated. Even Shearer, with whom he was in 
 most intimate contact, respected this trait in him. 
 Gradually he came to feel that he was making a way 
 with his men. It was a status, not assured as yet nor 
 even very firm, but a status for all that. 
 
 Then one day one of the best men, a teamster, came 
 in to make some objection to the cooking. As a matter 
 of fact, the cooking was perfectly good. It generally 
 is, in a well-conducted camp, but the lumber-jack is a 
 great hand to growl, and he usually begins with his 
 food. 
 
 Thorpe listened to his vague objections in silence. 
 
 " All right," he remarked simply.
 
 2l8 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Next day he touched the man on the shoulder just 
 as he was starting to work. 
 
 " Step into the office and get your time," said he. 
 
 " What's the matter? " asked the man. 
 
 " I don't need you any longer." 
 
 The two entered the little office. Thorpe looked 
 through the ledger and van book, and finally handed 
 the man his slip. 
 
 " Where do I get this? " asked the teamster, looking 
 at it uncertainly. 
 
 " At the bank in Marquette," replied Thorpe with- 
 out glancing around. 
 
 " Have I got to go 'way up to Marquette? n 
 
 " Certainly," replied Thorpe briefly. 
 
 " Who's going to pay my fare south? " 
 
 44 You are. You can get work at Marquette." 
 
 " That ain't a fair shake," cried the man excitedly. 
 
 " 111 have no growlers in this camp," said Thorpe 
 with decision. 
 
 " By God! " cried the man, " you damned " 
 
 " You get out of here! " cried Thorpe with a con- 
 centrated blaze of energetic passion that made the fel- 
 low step back. 
 
 " I ain't goin' to get on the wrong side of the law 
 by foolin' with this office," cried the other at the door, 
 " but if I had you outside for a minute " 
 
 " Leave this office ! " shouted Thorpe. 
 
 " S'pose you make me ! " challenged the man in- 
 solently. 
 
 In a moment the defiance had come, endangering the 
 careful structure Thorpe had reared with such pains. 
 The young man was suddenly angry in exactly the 
 same blind, unreasoning manner as when he had 
 Jeaped single-handed to tackle Dyer's crew. 
 
 Without a word he sprang across the shack, seized a 
 two-bladed ax from the pile behind the door, swung it 
 around his head and cast it full at the now frightened
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 219 
 
 teamster. The latter dodged, and the swirling steel 
 buried itself in the snowbank beyond. Without an in- 
 stant's hesitation Thorpe reached back for another. 
 The man took to his heels. 
 
 "I don't want to see you around here again!" 
 shouted Thorpe after him. 
 
 Then in a moment he returned to the office and sat 
 down overcome with contrition. 
 
 " It might have been murder! " he told himself, awe- 
 stricken. 
 
 But, as it happened, nothing could have turned out 
 better. 
 
 Thorpe had instinctively seized the only method by 
 which these strong men could be impressed. A rough- 
 and-tumble attempt at ejectment would have been use- 
 less. Now the entire crew looked with vast admiration 
 on their boss as a man who intended to have his own 
 way no matter what difficulties or consequences might 
 tend to deter him. And that is the kind of man they 
 liked. This one deed was more effective in cementing 
 their loyalty than any increase of wages would have 
 been. 
 
 Thorpe knew that their restless spirits would soon 
 tire of the monotony of work without ultimate interest. 
 Ordinarily the hope of a big cut is sufficient to keep men 
 of the right sort working for a record. But these men 
 had no such hope the camp was too small, and they 
 were too few. Thorpe adopted the expedient, now 
 quite common, of posting the results of each day's 
 work in the men's shanty. 
 
 Three teams were engaged in travoying, and two in 
 skidding the logs, either on the banking ground, or 
 along the road. Thorpe divided his camp into four 
 sections, which he distinguished by the names of the 
 teamsters. Roughly speaking, each of the three haul- 
 ing teams had its own gang of sawyers and skidders to 
 supply it with logs and to take them from it, for '
 
 220 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the skidding teams, one was split; the horses were 
 big enough so that one of them to a skidway sufficed. 
 Thus three gangs of men were performing each day 
 practically the same work. Thorpe scaled the results, 
 and placed them conspicuously for comparison. 
 
 Red Jacket, the teamster of the sorrels, one day was 
 credited with 11,000 feet; while Long Pine Jim and 
 Rollway Charley had put in but 10,500 and 10,250 re- 
 spectively. That evening all the sawyers, swampers, 
 and skidders belonging to Red Jacket's outfit were 
 considerably elated; while the others said little and 
 prepared for business on the morrow. 
 
 Once Long Pine Jim lurked at the bottom for three 
 days. Thorpe happened by the skidway just as Long 
 Pine arrived with a log. The young fellow glanced 
 solicitously at the splendid buckskins, the best horses 
 in camp. 
 
 " I'm afraid I didn't give you a very good team, 
 Jimmy," said he, and passed on. 
 
 That was all ; but men of the rival gangs had heard. 
 In camp Long Pine Jim and his crew received chaffing 
 with balefully red glares. Next day they stood at the 
 top by a good margin, and always after were com- 
 petitors to be feared. 
 
 Injin Charley, silent and enigmatical as ever, had 
 constructed a log shack near a little creek over in the 
 hardwood. There he attended diligently to the busi- 
 ness of trapping. Thorpe had brought him a deer 
 knife from Detroit; a beautiful instrument made of the 
 best tool steel, in one long piece extending through 
 the buck-horn handle. One could even break bones 
 with it. He had also lent the Indian the assistance ot 
 two of his Marquette men in erecting the shanty; and 
 had given him a barrel of flour for the winter. From 
 time to time Injin Charley brought in fresh meat, for 
 which he was paid. This with his trapping, and his 
 manufacture of moccasins, snowshoes and birch canoes,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 221 
 
 made him a very prosperous Indian indeed. Thorpe 
 rarely found time to visit him, but he often glided into 
 the office, smoked a pipeful of the white man's tobacco 
 in friendly fashion by the stove, and glided out again 
 without having spoken a dozen words. 
 
 Wallace made one visit before the big snows came, 
 and was charmed. He ate with gusto of the " salt- 
 horse," baked beans, stewed prunes, mince pie, and 
 cakes. He tramped around gaily in his moccasins or 
 on the fancy snowshoes he promptly purchased of Injin 
 Charley. There was nothing new to report in regard 
 to financial matters. The loan had been negotiated 
 easily on the basis of a mortgage guaranteed by Car- 
 penter's personal signature. Nothing had been heard 
 from Morrison & Daly. 
 
 When he departed, he left behind him four little 
 long-eared, short-legged beagle hounds. They were 
 solemn animals, who took life seriously. Never a 
 smile appeared in their questioning eyes. Wherever 
 one went, the others followed, pattering gravely along 
 in serried ranks. Soon they discovered that the swamp 
 over the knoll contained big white hares. Their mis- 
 sion in life was evident. Thereafter from the earliest 
 peep of daylight until the men quit work at night they 
 chased rabbits. The quest was hopeless, but they kept 
 obstinately at it, wallowing with contained excite- 
 ment over a hundred paces of snow before they would 
 get near enough to scare their quarry to another jump. 
 It used to amuse the hares. All day long the mellow 
 bell-tones echoed over the knoll. It came in time to 
 be part of the color of the camp, just as were the pines 
 and birches, or the cold northern sky. At the fall of 
 night, exhausted, trailing their long ears almost to the 
 ground, they returned to the cook, who fed them and 
 made much of them. Next morning they were at it as 
 hard as ever. To them it was the quest for the Grail, 
 hopeless, but glorious.
 
 222 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Little Phil, entrusted with the alarm clock, was the 
 first up in the morning. In the fearful biting cold of 
 an extinct camp, he lighted his lantern and with numb 
 hands raked the ashes from the stove. A few sticks ol 
 dried pine topped by split wood of birch or maple, all 
 well dashed with kerosene, took the flame eagerly. 
 Then he awakened the cook, and stole silently into the 
 office, where Thorpe and Shearer and Andrews, the 
 surveyor, lay asleep. There quietly he built another 
 fire, and filled the water-pail afresh. By the time this 
 task was finished, the cook sounded many times a 
 conch, and the sleeping camp awoke. 
 
 Later Phil drew water for the other shanties, swept 
 out all three, split wood and carried it in to the cook 
 and to the living-camps, filled and trimmed the lamps, 
 perhaps helped the cook. About half the remainder 
 of the day he wielded an ax, saw and wedge in the 
 hardwocd, collecting painfully for his strength was 
 not great material for the constant fires it was his 
 duty to maintain. Often he would stand motionless in 
 the vast frozen, creaking forest, listening with awe to 
 the voices which spoke to him alone. There was some- 
 thing uncanny in the misshapen dwarf with the fixed 
 marble white face and the expressive changing eyes, 
 something uncanny, and something indefinably beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 He seemed to possess an instinct which warned him 
 of the approach of wild animals. Long before a white 
 man, or even an Indian, would have suspected the 
 presence of game, little Phil would lift his head with 
 a peculiar listening toss. Soon, stepping daintily 
 through the snow near the swamp edge, would come 
 a deer; or pat-apat-patting on his broad hairy paws, a 
 lynx would steal by. Except Injin Charley, Phil was 
 the only man in that country who ever saw a beaver 
 in the open daylight. 
 
 At camp sometimes when all the men were away
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 223 
 
 and his own work was done, he would crouch like a 
 raccoon in the far corner of his deep square bunk with 
 the board ends that made of it a sort of little cabin, 
 and play to himself softly on his violin. No one ever 
 heard him. After supper he was docilely ready to fid- 
 dle to the men's dancing. Always then he gradually 
 worked himself to a certain pitch of excitement. His 
 eyes glared with the wolf-gleam, and the music was 
 vulgarly atrocious and out of tune. 
 
 As Christmas drew near, the weather increased in 
 severity. Blinding snow-squalls swept whirling from 
 the northeast, accompanied by a high wind. The air 
 was full of it, fine, dry, powdery, like the dust of 
 glass. The men worked covered with it as a tree is 
 covered after a sleet. Sometimes it was impossible 
 to work at all for hours at a time ; but Thorpe did not 
 allow a bad morning to spoil a good afternoon. The 
 instant a lull fell on the storm, he was out with his 
 scaling rule, and he expected the men to give him 
 something to scale. He grappled the fierce winter by 
 the throat, and shook from it the price of success. 
 
 Then came a succession of bright cold days and clear 
 cold nights. The aurora gleamed so brilliantly that 
 the forest was as bright as by moonlight. In the 
 strange weird shadow cast by its waverings the wolves 
 stole silently, or broke into wild ululations as they 
 struck the trail of game. Except for these weird in- 
 vaders, the silence of death fell on the wilderness. 
 Deer left the country. Partridges crouched trailing 
 under the snow. All the weak and timid creatures of 
 the woods shrank into concealment and silence before 
 these fierce woods-marauders with the glaring famine- 
 struck eyes. 
 
 Injin Charley found his traps robbed. In return he 
 constructed deadfalls, and dried several scalps. When 
 spang came, he would send them out for the bounty. 
 In the night, from time to time, the horses would
 
 224 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 awake trembling at an unknown terror. Then the long 
 weird howl would shiver across the starlight near at 
 hand, and the chattering man who rose hastily to quiet 
 the horses' frantic kicking, would catch a glimpse of 
 gaunt forms skirting the edge of the forest. 
 
 And the little beagles were disconsolate, for their 
 quarry had fled. In place of the fan-shaped triangular 
 trail for which they sought, they came upon dog-like 
 prints. These they sniffed at curiously, and then de- 
 parted growling, the hair on their backbones erect and 
 stiff.
 
 Chapter XXXII 
 
 Y the end of the winter some four million :^< 
 logs were piled in the bed or upon the banks 
 of the stream. To understand what that means, 
 you must imagine a pile of solid timber a mile in length. 
 This tremendous mass lay directly in the course of the 
 stream. When the winter broke up, it had to be sepa- 
 rated and floated piecemeal down the current. The 
 process is an interesting and dangerous one, and one 
 of great delicacy. It requires for its successful com- 
 pletion picked men of skill, and demands as toll its 
 yearly quota of cripples and dead. While on the drive, 
 men work fourteen hours a day, up to their waists in 
 water filled with floating ice. 
 
 On the Ossawinamakee, as has been stated, three 
 dams had been erected to simplify the process of driv- 
 ing. When the logs were in right distribution, the 
 gates were raised, and the proper head of water floated 
 them down. 
 
 Now the river being navigable, Thorpe was possessed 
 or certain rights on it. Technically he was entitled to 
 * normal head of water, whenever he needed it; or a 
 special head, according to agreement with the parties 
 owning the dam. Early in the drive, he found that 
 Morrison & Daly intended to cause him trouble. It 
 began in a narrows of the river between high, rocky 
 banks. Thorpe's drive was floating through close- 
 packed. The situation was ticklish. Men with spiked 
 boots ran here and there from one bobbing log to 
 another, pushing with their peaveys, hurrying one log, 
 
 225
 
 226 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 retarding another, working like beavers to keep the 
 whole mass straight. The entire surface of the water 
 was practically covered with the floating timbers. A 
 moment's reflection will show the importance of pre- 
 serving a full head of water. The moment the stream 
 should drop an inch or so, its surface would contract, 
 the logs would then be drawn close together in the 
 narrow space; and, unless an immediate rise should lift 
 them up and apart from each other, a jam would form, 
 behind which the water, rapidly damming, would press 
 to entangle it the more. 
 
 This is exactly what happened. In a moment, as 
 though by magic, the loose wooden carpet ground 
 together. A log in the advance up-ended ; another 
 thrust under it. The whole mass ground together, 
 stopped, and began rapidly to pile up. The men 
 escaped to the shore in a marvellous manner of their 
 own. 
 
 Tim Shearer found that the gate at the dam above 
 had been closed. The man in charge had simply 
 obeyed orders. He supposed M. & D. wished to back 
 up the water for their own logs. 
 
 Tim indulged in some picturesque language. 
 
 " You ain't got no right to close off more'n enough 
 to leave us th' nat'ral flow unless by agreement," he 
 concluded, and opened the gates. 
 
 Then it was a question of breaking the jam. This 
 had to be done by pulling out or chopping through 
 certain " key " logs which locked the whole mass. 
 Men stood under the face of imminent ruin over 
 them a frowning sheer wall of bristling logs, behind 
 which pressed the weight of the rising waters and 
 hacked and tugged calmly until the mass began to 
 stir. Then they escaped. A moment later, with a roar, 
 the jam vomited down on the spot where they had 
 stood. It wafe dangerous work. Just one half day later 
 it had to be done again, and for the same reason.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 227 
 
 This time Thorpe went back with Shearer. No one 
 was at the dam, but the gates were closed. The two 
 opened them again. 
 
 That very evening a man rode up on horseback in- 
 quiring for Mr. Thorpe. 
 
 " I'm he," said the young fellow. 
 
 The man thereupon dismounted and served a paper. 
 It proved to be an injunction issued by Judge Sherman 
 enjoining Thorpe against interfering with the prop- 
 erty of Morrison & Daly, to wit, certain dams 
 erected at designated points on the Ossawinamakee. 
 There had not elapsed sufficient time since the com- 
 mission of the offense for the other firm to secure the 
 issuance of this interesting document, so it was at 
 once evident that the whole affair had been pre- 
 arranged by the up-river firm for the purpose of block- 
 ing off Thorpe's drive. After serving the injunction, 
 the official rode away. 
 
 Thorpe called his foreman. The latter read the in- 
 junction attentively through a pair of steel-bowed 
 spectacles. 
 
 " Well, what you going to do ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of all the consummate gall ! " exploded Thorpe. 
 " Trying to enjoin me from touching a dam when 
 they're refusing me the natural flow ! They must have 
 bribed that fool judge. Why, his injunction isn't 
 worth the powder to blow it up! " 
 
 " Then you're all right, ain't ye? " inquired Tim. 
 
 " It'll be the middle of summer before we get a 
 hearing in court," said he. " Oh, they're a cute lay- 
 out! They expect to hang me up until it's too late to 
 do anything with the season's cut! " 
 
 He arose and began to pace back and forth. 
 
 " Tim," said he, " is there a man in the crew who's 
 afraid of nothing and will obey orders? " 
 
 " A dozen," replied Tim promptly. 
 
 "Who's the best?"
 
 228 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 "Scotty Parsons." 
 
 " Ask him to step here." 
 
 In a moment the man entered the office. 
 
 " Scotty," said Thorpe, " I want you to understand 
 that I stand responsible for whatever I order you to do." 
 
 " All right, sir," replied the man. 
 
 " In the morning," said Thorpe, " you take two men 
 and build some sort of a shack right over the sluice- 
 gate of that second dam, nothing very fancy, but 
 good enough to camp in. I want you to live there 
 day and night. Never leave it, not even for a minute. 
 The cookee will bring you grub. Take this Winches- 
 ter. If any of the men from up-river try to go out on 
 the dam, you warn them off. If they persist, you shoot 
 near them. If they keep coming, you shoot at them. 
 Understand?" 
 
 " You bet," answered Scotty with enthusiasm. 
 
 " All right," concluded Thorpe. 
 
 Next day Scotty established himself, as had been 
 agreed. He did not need to shoot anybody. Daly 
 himself came down to investigate the state of affairs, 
 when his men reported to him the occupancy of the 
 dam. He attempted to parley, but Scotty would have 
 none of it. 
 
 " Get out ! " was his first and last word. 
 
 Daly knew men. He was at the wrong end of the 
 whip. Thorpe's game was desperate, but so was his 
 need, and this was a backwoods country a long ways 
 from the little technicalities of the law. It was one 
 thing to serve an injunction; another to enforce it. 
 Thorpe finished his drive with no more of the difficul- 
 ties than ordinarily bother a riverman. 
 
 At the mouth of the river, booms of logs chained 
 together at the ends had been prepared. Into the 
 enclosure the drive was floated and stopped. Then a 
 raft was formed by passing new manila ropes over the 
 logs, tc each one of which the line was fastened by
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 229 
 
 a hardwood forked pin driven astride of it. A tug 
 dragged the raft to Marquette. 
 
 Now Thorpe was summoned legally on two counts. 
 First, Judge Sherman cited him for contempt of court. 
 Second, Morrison & Daly sued him for alleged dam- 
 ages in obstructing their drive by holding open the 
 dam-sluice beyond the legal head of water. 
 
 Such is a brief but true account of the coup-de-force 
 actually carried out by Thorpe's lumbering firm in 
 northern Michigan. It is better known to the craft 
 than to the public at large, because eventually the affair 
 was compromised. The manner of that compromise is 
 to follow.
 
 Chapter XXXIII 
 
 the call of trial, Thorpe took a three 
 weeks' vacation to visit his sister. Time, filled 
 with excitement and responsibility, had erased 
 from his mind the bitterness of their parting. He had 
 before been too busy, too grimly in earnest, to allow 
 himself the luxury of anticipation. Now he found 
 himself so impatient that he could hardly wait to get 
 there. He pictured their meeting, the things they 
 would say to each other. 
 
 As formerly, he learned on his arrival that she was 
 not at home. It was the penalty of an attempted sur- 
 prise. Mrs. Renwick proved not nearly so cordial as 
 the year before ; but Thorpe, absorbed in his eagerness, 
 did not notice it. If he had, he might have guessed 
 the truth : that the long propinquity of the fine and the 
 commonplace, however safe at first from the insulation 
 of breeding and natural kindliness, was at last begin- 
 ning to generate sparks. 
 
 No, Mrs. Renwick did not know where Helen was: 
 thought she had gone over to the Hughes's. The 
 Hughes live two blocks down the street and three to 
 the right, in a brown house back from the street. 
 Very well, then; she would expect Mr. Thorpe to 
 spend the night. 
 
 The latter wandered slowly down the charming 
 driveways of the little western town. The broad dusty 
 street was brown with sprinkling from numberless 
 garden hose. A double row of big soft maples met 
 over it, and shaded the sidewalk and part of the wide 
 lawns. The grass was fresh and green. Houses with 
 capacious verandas on which were glimpsed easy 
 
 330
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 231 
 
 chairs and hammocks, sent forth a mild glow from a 
 silk-shaded lamp or two. Across the evening air 
 floated the sounds of light conversation and laughter 
 from these verandas, the tinkle of a banjo, the thrum 
 of a guitar. Automatic sprinklers whirled and hummed 
 here and there. Their delicious artificial coolness 
 struck refreshingly against the cheek. 
 
 Thorpe found the Hughes residence without diffi- 
 culty, and turned up the straight walk to the veranda. 
 On the steps of the latter a rug had been spread. 
 A dozen youths and maidens lounged in well-bred ease 
 on its soft surface. The gleam of white summer 
 dresses, of variegated outing clothes, the rustle of 
 frocks, the tinkle of low, well-bred laughter confused 
 Thorpe, so that, as he approached the light from a tall 
 lamp just inside the hall, he hesitated, vainly trying to 
 make out the figures before him. 
 
 So it was that Helen Thorpe saw him first, and came 
 fluttering to meet him. 
 
 "Oh, Harry! What a surprise!" she cried, and 
 flung her arms about his neck to kiss him. 
 
 " How do you do, Helen," he replied sedately. 
 
 This was the meeting he had anticipated so long. 
 The presence of others brought out in him, irresistibly, 
 the repression of public display which was so strong 
 an element of his character. 
 
 A little chilled, Helen turned to introduce him to her 
 friends. In the cold light of her commonplace recep- 
 tion she noticed what in a warmer effusion of feelings 
 she would never have seen, that her brother's clothes 
 were out of date and worn; and that, though his car- 
 riage was notably strong and graceful, the trifling 
 constraint and dignity of his younger days had become 
 almost an awkwardness after two years among uncul- 
 tivated men. It occurred to Helen to be just a little 
 ashamed of him. 
 
 He took a place on the steps and sat without saying
 
 232 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 a word all the evening. There was nothing for him 
 to say. These young people talked thoughtlessly, as 
 young people do, of the affairs belonging to their own 
 little circle. Thorpe knew nothing of the cotillion, or 
 the brake ride, or of the girl who visited Alice Souther- 
 land; all of which gave occasion for so much lively 
 comment. Nor was the situation improved when some 
 of them, in a noble effort at politeness, turned the con- 
 versation into more general channels. The topics of 
 the day's light talk were absolutely unknown to him. 
 The plays, the new books, the latest popular songs, 
 jokes depending for their point on an intimate knowl- 
 edge of the prevailing vaudeville mode, were as un- 
 familiar to him as Miss Alice Southerland's guest. He 
 had thought pine and forest and the trail so long, that 
 he found these square-elbowed subjects refusing to be 
 jostled aside by any trivialities. 
 
 So he sat there silent in the semi-darkness. This 
 man, whose lightest experience would have aroused the 
 eager attention of the entire party, held his peace 
 because he thought he had nothing to say. 
 
 He took Helen back to Mrs. Renwick's about ten 
 o'clock. They walked slowly beneath the broad- 
 leaved maples, whose shadows danced under the tall 
 electric lights, and talked. 
 
 Helen was an affectionate, warm-hearted girl. Or- 
 dinarily she would have been blind to everything 
 except the delight of having her brother once more 
 with her. But his apparently cold reception had first 
 chilled, then thrown her violently into a critical mood. 
 His subsequent social inadequacy had settled her into 
 the common-sense level of everyday life. 
 
 " How have you done, Harry ? " she inquired anx- 
 iously. " Your letters have been so vague." 
 
 " Pretty well," he replied. " If things go right, I 
 hope some day to have a better place for you than 
 this."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 233 
 
 ef heart contracted suddenly. It was all she could 
 do to keep from bursting into tears. One would have 
 to realize perfectly her youth, the life to which she had 
 been accustomed, the lack of encouragement she had 
 labored under, the distastefulness of her surroundings, 
 the pent-up dogged patience she had displayed during 
 the last two years, the hopeless feeling of battering 
 against a brick wall she always experienced when she 
 received the replies to her attempts on Harry's confi- 
 dence, to appreciate how the indefiniteness of his 
 answer exasperated her and filled her with sullen de- 
 spair. She said nothing for twenty steps. Then : 
 
 "Harry," she said quietly, " can't you take me away 
 from Mrs. Ren wick's this year? " 
 
 " I don't know, Helen. I can't tell yet. Not just 
 now, at any rate." 
 
 " Harry," she cried, " you don't know what you're 
 doing. I tell you I can't stand Mrs. Ren wick any 
 longer." She calmed herself with an effort, and went 
 on more quietly. " Really, Harry, she's awfully dis- 
 agreeable. If you can't afford to keep me anywhere 
 else " she glanced timidly at his face and for the 
 first time saw the strong lines about the jaw and the 
 tiny furrows between the eyebrows. " I know you've 
 worked hard, Harry dear," she said with a sudden sym- 
 pathy, " and that you'd give me more, if you could. 
 But so have I worked hard. Now we ought to change 
 this in some way. I can get a position as teacher, or 
 some other work somewhere. Won't you let me do 
 that?" 
 
 Thorpe was thinking that it would be easy enough 
 to obtain Wallace Carpenter's consent to his taking 
 a thousand dollars from the profits of the year. But 
 he knew also that the struggle in the courts might need 
 every cent the new company could spare. It would 
 look much better were he to wait until after the ver- 
 dict. If favorable, there would be no difficulty about
 
 234 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 sparing the money. If adverse, there would be no 
 money to spare. The latter contingency he did not 
 seriously anticipate, but still it had to be considered. 
 And so, until the thing was absolutely certain, he hesi- 
 tated to explain the situation to Helen for fear of dis- 
 appointing her! 
 
 "I think you'd better wait, Helen," said he. 
 " There'll be time enough for all that later when it be- 
 comes necessary. You are very young yet, and it will 
 not hurt you a bit to continue your education for a lit- 
 tle while longer." 
 
 " And in the meantime stay with Mrs. Renwick ? " 
 flashed Helen. 
 
 ' Yes. I hope it will not have to be for very long." 
 
 ' How long do you think, Harry ? " pleaded the 
 girl. 
 
 ' That depends on circumstances," replied Thorpe. 
 
 ' Oh ! " she cried indignantly. 
 
 ' Harry," she ventured after a time, " why not write 
 to Uncle Amos ? " 
 
 Thorpe stopped and looked at her searchingly. 
 
 " You can't mean that, Helen," he said, drawing a 
 long breath. 
 
 " But why not ? " she persisted. 
 
 " You ought to know." 
 
 " Who would have done any different? If you had 
 a brother and discovered that he had appropriated 
 most all the money of a concern of which you were 
 president, wouldn't you think it your duty to have him 
 arrested ? " 
 
 " No ! " cried Thorpe suddenly excited. " Never 1 
 If he was my brother, I'd help him, even if he'd com- 
 mitted murder ! " 
 
 " We differ there," replied the girl coldly. " I con- 
 sider that Uncle Amos was a strong man who did his 
 duty as he saw it, in spite of his feelings. That he had 
 father arrested is nothing against him in my eyes.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 235 
 
 And his wanting us to come to him since, seems to 
 ine very generous. I am going to write to him." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind," commanded 
 Thorpe sternly. " Amos Thorpe is an unscrupulous 
 man who became unscrupulously rich. He deliber- 
 ately used our father as a tool, and then destroyed him. 
 I consider that anyone of our family who would have 
 anything to do with him is a traitor ! " 
 
 The girl did not reply. 
 
 Next morning Thorpe felt uneasily repentant for his 
 strong language. After all, the girl did lead a monot- 
 onous life, and he could not blame her for rebelling 
 against it from time to time. Her remarks had been 
 born of the rebellion ; they had meant nothing in them- 
 selves. He could not doubt for a moment her loyalty 
 to the family. 
 
 But he did not tell her so. That is not the way of 
 men of his stamp. Rather he cast about to see what 
 he could do. 
 
 Injin Charley had, during the winter just past, occu- 
 pied odd moments in embroidering with beads and 
 porcupine quills a wonderful outfit of soft buckskin 
 gauntlets, a shirt of the same material, and moccasins 
 of moose-hide. They were beautifully worked, and 
 Thorpe, on receiving them, had at once conceived the 
 idea of giving them to his sister. To this end he had 
 consulted another Indian near Marquette, to whom he 
 had confided the task of reducing the gloves and moc- 
 casins. The shirt would do as it was, for it was in- 
 tended to be worn as a sort of belted blouse. As has 
 been said, all were thickly beaded, and represented a 
 vast quantity of work. Probably fifty dollars could 
 not have bought them, even in the north country. 
 
 Thorpe tendered this as a peace offering. Not 
 understanding women in the least, he was surprised to 
 see his gift received by a burst of tears and a sudden 
 xit from the room. Helen thought he had bought
 
 236 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the things; and she was still sore from the pinch of 
 the poverty she had touched the evening before. 
 Nothing will exasperate a woman more than to be pre- 
 sented with something expensive for which she does 
 not particularly care, after being denied, on the 
 ground of economy, something she wants very much. 
 
 Thorpe stared after her in hurt astonishment. Mrs. 
 Renwick sniffed. 
 
 That afternoon the latter estimable lady attempted 
 to reprove Miss Helen, and was snubbed; she per- 
 sisted, and an open quarrel ensued. 
 
 " I will not be dictated to by you, Mrs. Renwick," 
 said Helen, " and I don't intend to have you interfere 
 in any way with my family affairs." 
 
 " They won't stand much investigation," replied 
 Mrs. Renwick, goaded out of her placidity. 
 
 Thorpe entered to hear the last two speeches. He 
 said nothing, but that night he wrote to Wallace Car- 
 penter for a thousand dollars. Every stroke of the 
 pen hurt him. But of course Helen could not stay 
 here now. 
 
 " And to think, just to think that he let that woman 
 insult me so, and didn't say a word ! " cried Helen to 
 herself. 
 
 Her method would have been to have acted irrevo- 
 cably on the spot, and sought ways and means after- 
 wards. Thorpe's, however, was to perfect all his plans 
 before making the first step. 
 
 Wallace Carpenter was not in town. Before the 
 letter had followed him to his new address, and the 
 answer had returned, a week had passed. Of course 
 the money was gladly put at Thorpe's disposal. The 
 latter at once interviewed his sister. 
 
 " Helen," he said, " I have made arrangements for 
 some money. What would you like to do this year? M 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him with clear 
 bright gaze. If he could so easily raise the money,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 237 
 
 why had he not done so before? He knew how much 
 she wanted it. Her happiness did not count. Only 
 when his quixotic ideas of family honor were attacked 
 did he bestir himself. 
 
 " I am going to Uncle Amos's," she replied distinctly. 
 
 " What ? " asked Thorpe incredulously. 
 
 For answer she pointed to a letter lying open on the 
 table. Thorpe took it and read : 
 
 " My dear Niece : 
 
 " Both Mrs. Thorpe and myself more than rejoice 
 that time and reflection have removed that, I must 
 confess, natural prejudice which the unfortunate fam- 
 ily affair, to which I will not allude, raised in your 
 mind against us. As we said long ago, our home is 
 your's when you may wish to make it so. You state 
 your present readiness to come immediately. Unless 
 you wire to the contrary, we shall expect you next 
 Tuesday evening on the four:forty train. I shall be 
 at the Central Station myself to meet you. If your 
 brother is now with you, I should be pleased to see 
 him also, and will be most happy to give him a posi- 
 tion with the firm. 
 
 " Aff . your uncle, 
 
 "AMOS THORPE. 
 
 " New York, June 6, 1883." 
 
 On finishing the last paragraph the reader crumpled 
 the letter and threw it into the grate. 
 
 " I am sorry you did that, Helen," said he, " but I 
 don't blame you, and it can't be helped. We won't 
 need to take advantage of his ' kind offer ' now." 
 
 " I intend to do so, however," replied the girl coldly. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " I mean," she cried, " that I am sick of waiting on 
 your good pleasure. I waited, and slaved, and stood 
 unbearable things for two years. I did it cheerfully.
 
 2 3 8 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 And in return I don't get a civil word, not a decent 
 -explanation, not even a caress," she fairly sobbed 
 out the last word. " I can't stand it any longer. 
 J have tried and tried and tried, and then when I've 
 come to you for the littlest word of encouragement, 
 you have pecked at me with those stingy little kisses, 
 and have told me I was young and ought to finish my 
 education ! You put me in uncongenial surround- 
 ings, and go off into the woods camping yourself. 
 You refuse me money enough to live in a three-dollar 
 boarding-house, and you buy expensive rifles and fish- 
 ing tackle for yourself. You can't afford to send me 
 away somewhere for the summer, but you bring me 
 back gee-gaws you have happened to fancy, worth a 
 month's board in the country. You haven't a cent 
 when it is a question of what / want ; but you raise 
 money quick enough when your old family is insulted. 
 Isn't it my family too ? And then you blame me be- 
 cause, after waiting in vain two years for you to do 
 something, I start out to do the best I can for myself. 
 I'm not of age ; but you're not my guardian ! " 
 
 During this long speech Thorpe had stood motion- 
 less, growing paler and p^aler. Like most noble nat- 
 ures, when absolutely in the right, he was incapable 
 of defending himself against misunderstandings. He 
 Avas too wounded ; he was hurt to the soul. 
 
 " You know that is not true, Helen," he replied, al- 
 most sternly. 
 
 " It is true ! " she asseverated, " and I'm through! " 
 
 M It's a little hard," said Thorpe passing his hand 
 wearily before his eyes, " to work hard this way for 
 years, and then " 
 
 She laughed with a hard little note of scorn. 
 
 " Helen," said Thorpe with new energy, " I forbid 
 you to have anything to do with Amos Thorpe. I 
 think he is a scoundrel and a sneak." 
 
 " What grounds have you to think so ? "
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 239 
 
 " None," he confessed, " that is, nothing definite. 
 But I know men ; and I know his type. Some day I 
 shall be able to prove something. I do not wish you 
 to have anything to do with him." 
 
 " I shall do as I please," she replied, crossing her 
 hands behind her. 
 
 Thorpe's eyes darkened. 
 
 " We have talked this over a great many times," he 
 warned, "and you've always agreed with me. Re- 
 member, you owe something to the family." 
 
 " Most of the family seem to owe something," she 
 replied with a flippant laugh. " I'm sure I didn't 
 choose the family. If I had, I'd have picked out a 
 better one ! " 
 
 The flippancy was only a weapon which she used 
 unconsciously, blindly, in her struggle. The man 
 could not know this. His face hardened, and his 
 voice grew cold. 
 
 " You may take your choice, Helen," he said for- 
 mally. " If you go into the household of Amos 
 Thorpe, if you deliberately prefer your comfort to your 
 honor, we will have nothing more in common." 
 
 They faced each other with the cool, deadly glance 
 of the race, so similar in appearance but so unlike in 
 nature. 
 
 " I, too, offer you a home, such as it is," repeated 
 the man. " Choose ! " 
 
 At the mention of the home for which means were 
 so quickly forthcoming when Thorpe, not she, consid- 
 ered it needful, the girl's eyes flashed. She stooped 
 and dragged violently from beneath the bed a flat 
 steamer trunk, the lid of which she threw open. A 
 dress lay on the bed. With a fine dramatic gesture 
 she folded the garment and laid it in the bottom of the 
 trunk. Then she knelt, and without vouchsafing an- 
 other glance at her brother standing rigid by the door, 
 she began feverishly to arrange the folds. 
 
 The choice was made. He turned and went out.
 
 Chapter XXXIV 
 
 TT W'T'ttH Thorpe there could be no half-way 
 i/i/ measure. He saw that the rupture with his 
 r r sister was final, and the thrust attained him 
 
 in one of his few unprotected points. It was not as 
 though he felt either himself or his sister consciously in 
 the wrong. He acquitted her of all fault, except as to 
 the deadly one of misreading and misunderstanding. 
 The fact argued not a perversion but a lack in her char- 
 acter. She was other than he had thought her. 
 
 As for himself, he had schemed, worked, lived only 
 fur her. He had come to her from the battle expect- 
 ing rest and refreshment. To the world he had shown 
 the hard, unyielding front of the unemotional ; he had 
 looked ever keenly outward ; he had braced his muscles 
 in the constant tension of endeavor. So much the 
 more reason why, in the hearts of the few he loved, he, 
 the man of action, should find repose ; the man of 
 sternness, should discover that absolute peace of the 
 spirit in which not the slightest motion of the will 
 is necessary; the man of repression should be per- 
 mitted affectionate, care-free expansion of the natural 
 affection, of the full sympathy which will understand 
 and not mistake for weakness. Instead of this, he 
 was forced into refusing where he would rather have 
 given ; into denying where he would rather have as- 
 sented ; and finally into commanding where he longed 
 most ardently to lay aside the cloak of authority. His 
 motives were misread; his intentions misjudged; his 
 love doubted. 
 
 But worst of all, Thorpe's mind could see no possi- 
 MO
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 241 
 
 bility of an explanation. If she could not see of her 
 own accord how much he loved her, surely it was a 
 hopeless task to attempt an explanation through mere 
 words. If, after all, she was capable of misconceiving 
 the entire set of his motives during the past two years, 
 expostulation would be futile. In his thoughts of her 
 he fell into a great spiritual dumbness. Never, even 
 in his moments of most theoretical imaginings, did 
 he see himself setting before her fully and calmly the 
 hopes and ambitions of which she had been the main- 
 spring. And before a reconciliation, many such re- 
 hearsals must take place in the secret recesses of a 
 man's being. 
 
 Thorpe did not cry out, nor confide in a friend, nor 
 do anything even so mild as pacing the floor. The 
 only outward and visible sign a close observer might 
 have noted was a certain dumb pain lurking in the 
 depths of his eyes like those of a wounded spaniel. 
 He was hurt, but did not understand. He suffered in 
 silence, but without anger. This is at once the noblest 
 and the most pathetic of human suffering. 
 
 At first the spring of his life seemed broken. He 
 did not care for money ; and at present disappointment 
 bad numbed his interest in the game. It seemed 
 hardly worth the candle. 
 
 Then in a few days, after his thoughts had ceased to 
 dwell constantly on the one subject, he began to look 
 about him mentally. Beneath his other interests he 
 still felt constantly a dull ache, something unpleasant, 
 uncomfortable. Strangely enough it was almost iden- 
 tical in quality with the uneasiness that always under- 
 lay his surface-thoughts when he was worried about 
 some detail of his business. Unconsciously, again 
 as in his business, the combative instinct aroused. 
 In lack of other object on which to expend itself, 
 Thorpe's fighting spirit turned with energy to the 
 subject of the lawsuit.
 
 242 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Under the unwonted stress of the psychological con- 
 dition just described, he thought at white heat. His 
 ideas were clear, and followed each other quickly, 
 almost feverishly. 
 
 After his sister left the Renwicks, Thorpe himself 
 went to Detroit, where he interviewed at once Nor- 
 throp, the brilliant young lawyer whom the firm had 
 engaged to defend its case. 
 
 " I'm afraid we have no show," he replied to 
 Thorpe's question. " You see, you fellows were on 
 the wrong side of the fence in trying to enforce the 
 law yourselves. Of course you may well say that 
 justice was all on your side. That does not count. 
 The only recourse recognized for injustice lies in the 
 law courts. I'm afraid you are due to lose your case." 
 
 " Well," said Thorpe, " they can't prove much 
 damage." 
 
 " I don't expect that they will be able to procure a 
 very heavy judgment," replied Northrop. " The facts 
 I shall be able to adduce will cut down damages. But 
 the costs will be very heavy." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Thorpe. 
 
 " And," then pursued Northrop with a dry smile, 
 " they practically own Sherman. You may be in for 
 contempt of court at their instigation. As I under- 
 stand it, they are trying rather to injure you than to 
 get anything out of it themselves." 
 
 ''' That's it," nodded Thorpe. 
 
 " In other words, it's a case for compromise." 
 
 " Just what I wanted to get at," said Thorpe with 
 satisfaction. " Now answer me a question. Suppose 
 a man injures Government or State land by trespass. 
 The land is afterwards bought by another party. Has 
 the latter any claim for damage against the trespasser ? 
 Understand me, the purchaser bought after the tres- 
 pass was committed." 
 
 " Certainly," answered Northrop without hesitation.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 243 
 
 " Provided suit is brought within six years of the time 
 the trespass was committed." 
 
 " Good ! Now see here. These M. & D. people 
 stole about a section of Government pine up on that 
 river, and I don't believe they've ever bought in the 
 land it stood on. In fact I don't believe they suspect 
 that anyone knows they've been stealing. How would 
 it do, if I were to buy that section at the Land Office, 
 and threaten to sue them for the value of the pine that 
 originally stood on it ? " 
 
 The lawyer's eyes glimmered behind the lenses of 
 his pince-nez ; but, with the caution of the professional 
 man he made no other sign of satisfaction. 
 
 " It would do very well indeed," he replied, " but 
 you'd have to prove they did the cutting, and you'll 
 have to pay experts to estimate the probable amount 
 of the timber. Have you the description of the sec- 
 tion?" 
 
 " No," responded Thorpe, " but I can get it ; and I 
 can pick up witnesses from the woodsmen as to the 
 cutting." 
 
 " The more the better. It is rather easy to discredit 
 the testimony of one or two. How much, on a broad 
 guess, would you estimate the timber to come to ? " 
 
 " There ought to be about eight or ten million," 
 guessed Thorpe after an instant's silence, " worth in 
 the stump anywhere from sixteen to twenty thousand 
 dollars. It would cost me only eight hundred to 
 buy it." 
 
 " Do so, by all means. Get your documents and 
 evidence all in shape, and let me have them. I'll set 
 that the suit is discontinued then. Will you sue 
 them?" 
 
 " No, I think not," replied Thorpe. " I'll just hold 
 it back as a sort of club to keep them in line." 
 
 The next day, he took the train north. He had 
 something definite and urgent to do, and, as always
 
 244 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 with practical affairs demanding attention and re- 
 source, he threw himself whole-souled into the accom- 
 plishment of it. By the time he had bought the six- 
 teen forties constituting the section, searched out a 
 dozen witnesses to the theft, and spent a week with the 
 Marquette expert in looking over the ground, he had 
 fallen into the swing of work again. His experience 
 still ached ; but dully. 
 
 Only now he possessed no interests outside of those 
 in the new country ; no affections save the half-protect- 
 ing? good-natured comradeship with Wallace, the 
 mutual self-reliant respect that subsisted between Tim 
 Shearer and himself, and the dumb, unreasoning dog- 
 liking he shared with Injin Charley. His eye became 
 clearer and steadier ; his methods more simple and di- 
 rect. The taciturnity of his mood redoubled in thick- 
 ness. He was less charitable to failure on the part 
 of subordinates. And the new firm on the Ossawin- 
 amakee prospered.
 
 Chapter XXXV 
 
 f iIVE years passed. 
 
 rj In that time Thorpe had succeeded in cutting 
 m a hundred million feet of pine. The money re- 
 ceived for this had all been turned back into the Com- 
 pany's funds. From a single camp of twenty-five men. 
 with ten horses and a short haul of half a mile, th 
 concern had increased to six large, well-equipped com- 
 munities of eighty to a hundred men apiece, using 
 nearly two hundred horses, and hauling as far as eight 
 or nine miles. 
 
 Near the port stood a mammoth sawmill capable 
 of taking care of twenty-two million feet a year, about 
 which a lumber town had sprung up. Lake schooners 
 lay in a long row during the summer months, while 
 busy loaders passed the planks from one to the other 
 into the deep holds. Besides its original holding, the 
 company had acquired about a hundred and fifty mill- 
 ion more, back near the headwaters of tributaries to 
 the Ossawinamakee. In the spring and early summer 
 months, the drive was a wonderful affair. 
 
 During the four years in which the Morrison & Daly 
 Company shared the stream with Thorpe, the two 
 firms lived in complete amity and understanding. 
 Northrop had played his cards skillfully. The older 
 capitalists had withdrawn suit. Afterwards they kept 
 scrupulously within their rights, and saw to it that no 
 more careless openings were left for Thorpe's shrewd- 
 ness. They were keen enough business men, but had 
 made the mistake, common enough to established 
 power, of underrating the strength of an appar- 
 
 45
 
 246 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 ently insignificant opponent. Once they understood 
 Thorpe's capacity, that young man had no more 
 chance to catch them napping. 
 
 And as the younger man, on his side, never attempt- 
 ed to overstep his own rights, the interests of the rival 
 firms rarely clashed. As to the few disputes that dicj 
 arise, Thorpe found Mr. Daly singularly anxious to 
 please. In the desire was no friendliness, however. 
 Thorpe was watchful for treachery, and could hardly 
 believe the affair finished when at the end of the fourth 
 year the M. & D. sold out the remainder of its pine to 
 a firm from Manistee, and transferred its operations 
 to another stream a few miles east, where it had ac- 
 quired more considerable holdings. 
 
 " They're altogether too confounded anxious to help 
 us on that freight, Wallace," said Thorpe wrinkling 
 his brow uneasily. " I don't like it. It isn't natural. 
 
 " No," laughed Wallace, " neither is it natural for 
 a dog to draw a sledge. But he does it when he has 
 to. They're afraid of you, Harry : that's all." 
 
 Thorpe shook his head, but had to acknowledge 
 that he could evidence no grounds for his mistrust. 
 
 The conversation took place at Camp One, which 
 was celebrated in three states. Thorpe had set out 
 to gather around him a band of good woodsmen. Ex- 
 cept on a pinch he would employ no others. 
 
 " I don't care if I get in only two thousand feet this 
 winter, and if a boy does that," he answered Shearer's 
 expostulations, " it's got to be a good boy." 
 
 The result of his policy began to show even in the 
 second year. Men were a little proud to say that they 
 had put in a winter at " Thorpe's One." Those who 
 had worked there during the first year were loyally en- 
 thusiastic over their boss's grit and resourcefulness, 
 their camp's order, their cook's good " grub." As they 
 were authorities, others perforce had to accept the dic- 
 tum. There grew a desire among the better class to
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 247 
 
 see what Thorpe's " One " might be like. In th< 
 autumn Harry had more applicants than he knew what 
 to do with. Eighteen of the old men returned. He 
 took them all, but when it came to distribution, three 
 found themselves assigned to one or the other of the 
 new camps. And quietly the rumor gained that these 
 three had shown the least willing spirit during the 
 previous winter. The other fifteen were sobered to 
 the industry which their importance as veterans might 
 have impaired. 
 
 Tim Shearer was foreman of Camp One; Scotty 
 Parsons was drafted from the veterans to take charge 
 of Two; Thorpe engaged two men known to Tim to 
 boss Three and Four. But in selecting the " push " for 
 Five he displayed most strikingly his keen apprecia- 
 tion of a man's relation to his environment. He 
 sought out John Radway and induced him to accept 
 the commission. 
 
 " You can do it, John/' said he, " and I know it. I 
 want you to try; and if you don't make her go, I'll call 
 it nobody's fault but my own." 
 
 " I don't see how you dare risk it, after that Cass 
 Branch deal, MT. Thorpe," replied Radway, almost 
 brokenly. " But I would like to tackle it, I'm dead 
 sick of loafing. Sometimes it seems like I'd die, if I 
 don't get out in the woods again." 
 
 " We'll call it a deal, then," answered Thorpe. 
 
 The result proved his sagacity. Radway was one 
 of the best foremen in the outfit. He got more out 
 of his men, he rose better to emergencies, and he ac- 
 complished more with the same resources than any 
 of the others, excepting Tim Shearer. As long as the 
 work was done for someone else, he was capable and 
 efficient. Only when he was called upon to demand 
 on his own account, did the paralyzing shyness affect 
 him. 
 
 But the one feature that did more to attract the very
 
 248 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 best element among woodsmen, and so make possible 
 the practice of Thorpe's theory of success, was Camp 
 One. The men's accommodations at the other five 
 were no different and but little better than those in a 
 thousand other typical lumber camps of both penin- 
 sulas. They slept in box-like bunks filled with hay or 
 straw over which blankets were spread ; they sat on a 
 narrow hard bench or on the floor ; they read by the 
 dim light of a lamp fastened against the big cross 
 beam ; they warmed themselves at a huge iron stove 
 in the center of the room around which suspended 
 wires and poles offered space for the drying of socks ; 
 they washed their clothes when the mood struck them. 
 It was warm and comparatively clean. But it was 
 dark, without ornament, cheerless. 
 
 The lumber-jack never expects anything different 
 In fact, if he were pampered to the extent of ordinary 
 comforts, he would be apt at once to conclude himself 
 indispensable ; whereupon he would become worthless. 
 
 Thorpe, however, spent a little money not much 
 and transformed Camp One. Every bunk was pro- 
 vided with a tick, which the men could fill with hay, 
 balsam, or hemlock, as suited them. Cheap but at- 
 tractive curtains on wires at once brightened the room 
 and shut each man's " bedroom " from the main hall. 
 The deacon seat remained, but was supplemented by 
 a half-dozen simple and comfortable chairs. In the 
 center of the room stood a big round table over which 
 glowed two hanging lamps. The table was littered 
 with papers and magazines. Home life was still 
 further suggested by a canary bird in a gilt cage, a 
 sleepy cat, and two pots of red geraniums. Thorpe 
 had further imported a washerwoman who dwelt in a 
 separate little cabin under the hill. She washed the 
 men's belongings at twenty-five cents a week, which 
 amount Thorpe deducted from each man's wages, 
 whether he had the washing done or not. This en-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 249 
 
 couraged cleanliness. Phil scrubbed out every day, 
 while the men were in the woods. 
 
 Such was Thorpe's famous Camp One in the days 
 of its splendor. Old woodsmen will still tell you about 
 it, with a longing reminiscent glimmer in the corners 
 of their eyes as they recall its glories and the men who 
 worked in it. To have " put in " a winter in Camp 
 One was the mark of a master; and the ambition of 
 every raw recruit to the forest. Probably Thorpe's 
 name is remembered to-day more on account of the 
 intrepid, skillful, loyal men his strange genius gath- 
 ered about it, than for the herculean feat of having 
 carved a great fortune from the wilderness in but five 
 years' time. 
 
 But Camp One was a privilege. A man entered it 
 only after having proved himself; he remained in it 
 only as long as his efficiency deserved the honor. Its 
 members were invariably recruited from one of the 
 other four camps ; never from applicants who had not 
 been in Thorpe's employ. A raw man was sent to 
 Scotty, or Jack Hyland, or Radway, or Kerlie. There 
 he was given a job, if he happened to suit, and men 
 were needed. By and by, perhaps, when a member 
 of Camp One fell sick or was given his time, Tim 
 Shearer would send word to one of the other five that 
 he needed an axman or a sawyer, or a loader, or team- 
 ster, as the case might be. The best man in the other 
 camps was sent up. 
 
 So Shearer was foreman of a picked crew. Proba- 
 bly no finer body of men was ever gathered at one 
 camp. In them one could study at his best the Amer- 
 ican pioneer. It was said at that time that you had 
 never seen logging done as it should be until you had 
 visited Thorpe's Camp One on the Ossawinamakee. 
 
 Of these men Thorpe demanded one thing suc- 
 cess. He tried never to ask of them anything he did 
 not believe to be thoroughly possible ; but he expected
 
 250 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 always that in some manner, by hook or crook, 
 would carry the affair through. No matter how good 
 the excuse, it was never accepted. Accidents would 
 happen, there as elsewhere ; a way to arrive in spite of 
 them always exists, if only a man is willing to use his 
 wits, unflagging energy, and time. Bad luck is a real- 
 ity ; but much of what is called bad luck is nothing but 
 a want of careful foresight, and Thorpe could better 
 afford to be harsh occasionally to the genuine for the 
 sake of eliminating the false. If a man failed, he left 
 Camp One. 
 
 The procedure was very simple. Thorpe never ex- 
 plained his reasons even to Shearer. 
 
 " Ask Tom to step in a moment," he re uested of 
 the latter. 
 
 " Tom," he said to that individual, " I think I can 
 use you better at Four. Report to Kerlie there." 
 
 And strangely enough, few even of these proud and 
 independent men ever asked for their time, or pre- 
 ferred to quit rather than to work up again to the 
 glories of their prize camp. 
 
 For while new recruits were never Accepted at 
 Camp One, neither was a man ever discharged there. 
 He was merely transferred to one of the other fore- 
 men. 
 
 It is necessary to be thus minute in order that the 
 reader may understand exactly the class of men 
 Thorpe had about his immediate person. Some of 
 them had the reputation of being the hardest citizens 
 in three States, others were mild as turtle doves. 
 They were all pioneers. They had the independence, 
 the unabashed eye, the insubordination even, of the 
 man who has drawn his intellectual and moral nour- 
 ishment at the breast of a wild nature. They wer* 
 afraid of nothing alive. From no one, were he chore- 
 boy or president, would they take a single word " 
 with the exception always of Tim Shearer and Thorpe-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 251 
 
 The former they respected because in their pictur- 
 esque guild he was a master craftsman. The latter 
 they adored and quoted and fought for in distant 
 saloons, because he represented to them their own 
 ideal, what they would be if freed from the heavy gyves 
 of vice and executive incapacity that weighed them 
 down. 
 
 And they were loyal. It was a point of honor with 
 them to stay " until the last dog was hung." He who 
 deserted in the hour of need was not only a renegade, 
 but a fool. For he thus earned a magnificent licking 
 if ever he ran up against a member of the " Fighting 
 Forty." A band of soldiers they were, ready to at- 
 tempt anything their commander ordered, devoted, 
 enthusiastically admiring. And, it must be confessed, 
 they were also somewhat on the order of a band of 
 pirates. Marquette thought so each spring after the 
 drive, when, hat-tilted, they surged swearing and 
 shouting down to Denny Hogan's saloon. Denny had 
 to buy new fixtures when they went away ; but it was 
 worth it. 
 
 Proud ! it was no name for it. Boast ! the fame of 
 Camp One spread abroad over the land, and was be- 
 lieved in to about twenty per cent of the anecdotes de- 
 tailed of it which was near enough the actual truth. 
 Anecdotes disbelieved, the class of men from it would 
 have given it a reputation. The latter was varied 
 enough, in truth. Some people thought Camp One 
 must be a sort of hell-hole of roaring, fighting devils. 
 Others sighed and made rapid calculations of the num- 
 ber of logs they could put in, if only they could get 
 hold of help like that. 
 
 Thorpe himself, of course, made his headquarters 
 at Camp One. Thence he visited at least once a week 
 all the other camps, inspecting the minutest details, 
 not ocily of the work, but of the everyday life. For 
 this purpose he maintained a light box sleigh and a
 
 252 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 pair of bays, though often, when the snow became 
 deep, he was forced to snowshoes. 
 
 During the five years he had never crossed the 
 Straits of Mackinaw. The rupture with his sister had 
 made repugnant to him all the southern country. He 
 preferred to remain in the woods. All winter long he 
 was more than busy at his logging. Summers he 
 spent at the mill. Occasionally he visited Marquette, 
 but always on business. He became used to seeing 
 only the rough faces of men. The vision of softer 
 graces and beauties lost its distinctness before this 
 strong, hardy northland, whose gentler moods were 
 like velvet over iron, or like its own summer leaves 
 veiling the eternal darkness of the pines. 
 
 He was happy because he was too busy to be any- 
 thing else. The insistent need of success which he 
 had created for himself, absorbed all other sentiments. 
 He demanded it of others rigorously. He could do no 
 less than demand it of himself. It had practically be- 
 come one of his tenets of belief. The chief end of any 
 man, as he saw it, was to do well and successfully what 
 his life found ready. Anything to further this fore- 
 ordained activity was good; anything else was bad. 
 These thoughts, aided by a disposition naturally fer- 
 vent and single in purpose, hereditarily ascetic and 
 conscientious for his mother was of old New Eng- 
 land stock gave to him in the course of six years' 
 striving a sort of daily and familiar religion to which 
 he conformed his life. 
 
 Success, success, success. Nothing could be of 
 more importance. Its attainment argued a man's effi- 
 ciency in the Scheme of Things, his worthy fulfillment 
 of the end for which a divine Providence had placed 
 him on earth. Anything that interfered with it, per- 
 sonal comfort, inclination, affection, desire, love of 
 ease, individual liking, was bad. 
 
 Luckily for Thorpe's peace of mind, his habit ol
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 253 
 
 looking on men as things helped him keep to this at- 
 titude of mind. His lumbermen were tools, good, 
 sharp, efficient tools, to be sure, but only because he 
 had made them so. Their loyalty aroused in his 
 breast no pride nor gratitude. He expected loyalty. 
 He would have discharged at once a man who did not 
 show it. The same with zeal, intelligence, effort 
 they were the things he took for granted. As for the 
 admiration and affection which the Fighting Forty 
 displayed for him personally, he gave not a thought 
 to it. And the men knew it, and loved him the more 
 from the fact. 
 
 Thorpe cared for just three people, and none of them 
 happened to clash with his machine. They were Wal- 
 lace Carpenter, little Phil, and Injin Charley. 
 
 Wallace, for reasons already explained at length, 
 was always personally agreeable to Thorpe. Latter- 
 ly, since the erection of the mill, he had developed un- 
 expected acumen in the disposal of the season's cut 
 to wholesale dealers in Chicago. Nothing could have 
 been better for the firm. Thereafter he was often in 
 the woods, both for pleasure and to get his partner's 
 ideas on what the firm would have to offer. The entire 
 responsibility r* the city end of the business was in 
 his hands. 
 
 Injin Charley continued to hunt and trap in the 
 country round about. Between him and Thorpe had 
 grown a friendship the more solid in that its increase 
 had been mysteriously without outward cause. Once 
 or twice a month the lumberman would snowshoe 
 down to the little cabin at the forks. Entering, 
 he would nod briefly and seat himself on a cracker- 
 box. 
 
 " How do, Charley," said he. 
 
 " How do," replied Charley. 
 
 They filled pipes and smoked. At rare intervals 
 one of them made a remark, tersely,
 
 254 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " Catch um three beaver las' week," remarked 
 Charley. 
 
 " Good haul," commented Thorpe. 
 
 Or: 
 
 " I saw a mink track by the big boulder," offered 
 Thorpe. 
 
 " H'm ! " responded Charley in a long-drawn fal- 
 setto whine. 
 
 Yet somehow the men came to know each other bet- 
 ter and better ; and each felt that in an emergency he 
 could depend on the other to the uttermost in spite 
 of the difference in race. 
 
 As for Phil, he was like some strange, shy animal, 
 retaining all its wild instincts, but led by affection to 
 become domestic. He drew the water, cut the wood, 
 none better. In the evening he played atrociously 
 his violin, none worse, bending his great white 
 brow forward with the wolf-glare in his eyes, swaying 
 his shoulders with a fierce delight in the subtle disso- 
 nances, the swaggering exactitude of time, the vulgar 
 rendition of the horrible tunes he played. And often 
 he went into the forest and gazed wondering through 
 his liquid poet's eyes at occult things. Above all, he 
 worshipped Thorpe. And in turn the lumberman ac- 
 corded him a good-natured affection. He was as in- 
 dispensable to Camp One as the beagles. 
 
 And the beagles were most indispensable. No one 
 could have got along without them. In the course 
 of events and natural selection they had increased to 
 eleven. At night they slept in the men's camp under- 
 neath or very near the stove. By daylight in the 
 morning they were clamoring at the door. Never had 
 they caught a hare. Never for a moment did their 
 hopes sink. The men used sometimes to amuse them- 
 selves by refusing the requested exit. The little dogs 
 agonized. They leaped and yelped, falling over each 
 other like a tangle of angleworms. Then finally, when
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 255 
 
 the door at last flung wide, they precipitated them- 
 selves eagerly and silently through the opening. A 
 few moments later a single yelp rose in the direction 
 of the swamp ; the band took up the cry. From then 
 until dark the glade was musical with baying. At 
 supper time they returned straggling, their expression 
 pleased, six inches of red tongue hanging from the 
 corners of their mouths, ravenously ready for supper. 
 
 Strangely enough the big white hares never left tke 
 swamp. Perhaps the same one was never chased two 
 days in succession. Or it is possible that the quarry 
 enjoyed the harmless game as much as did the little 
 dogs. 
 
 Once only while the snow lasted was the hunt aban- 
 doned for a few days. Wallace Carpenter announced 
 his intention of joining forces with the diminutive 
 hounds. 
 
 " It's a shame, so it is, doggies ! " he laughed at the 
 tried pack. " We'll get one to-morrow." 
 
 So he took his shotgun to the swamp, and after a 
 half hour's wait, succeeded in killing the hare. From 
 that moment he was the hero of those ecstacized ca- 
 nines. They tangled about him everywhere. He 
 hardly dared take a step for fear of crushing one of 
 the open faces and expectant, pleading eyes looking 
 tip at him. It grew to be a nuisance. Wallace always 
 claimed his trip was considerably shortened because 
 he coulu not get away from his admirers.
 
 Chapter XXXVI 
 
 ti . FINANCIALLY the Company was rated high, 
 rj and yet was heavily in debt. This condition of 
 JL affairs by no means constitutes an anomaly in 
 the lumbering business. 
 
 Tht profits of the first five years had been immedi- 
 ately .^invested in the business. Thorpe, with the 
 foresignt that had originally led him into this new 
 country, saw farther than the instant's gain. He in- 
 tended to establish in a few years more a big plant 
 which would be returning benefices in proportion not 
 only to the capital originally invested, but also in ratio 
 to the energy, time, and genius he had himself ex- 
 pended. It was not the affair of a moment. It was 
 not the affair of half-measures, of timidity. 
 
 Thorpe knew that he could play safely, cutting a few 
 millions a year, expanding cautiously. By this method 
 he would arrive, but only after a long period. 
 
 Or he could do as many other firms have done; 
 start on borrowed money. 
 
 In the latter case he had only one thing to fear, and 
 that was fire. Every cent, and many times .ver, of 
 his obligations would be represented in the state of 
 raw material. All he had to do was to cut it out by 
 the very means which the yearly profits of his busi- 
 ness would enable him to purchase. For the moment, 
 he owed a great deal ; without the shadow of a doubt 
 mere industry would clear his debt, and leave him 
 with substantial acquisitions created, practically, from 
 nothing but his own abilities. The money obtained 
 irom his mortgages was a tool which he picked uj> 
 
 356
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 257 
 
 an instant, used to fashion one of his own, and laid 
 aside. 
 
 Every autumn the Company found itself suddenly 
 in easy circumstances. At any moment that Thorpe 
 had chosen to be content with the progress made, he 
 could have, so to speak, declared dividends with his 
 partner. Instead of undertaking more improvements, 
 for part of which he borrowed some money, he could 
 have divided the profits of the season's cut. But this 
 he was not yet ready to do. 
 
 He had established five more camps, he had acquired 
 over a hundred and fifty million more of timber lying 
 contiguous to his own, he had built and equipped a 
 modern high-efficiency mill, he had constructed a har- 
 bor break-water and the necessary booms, he had 
 bought a tug, built a boarding-house. All this costs 
 money. He wished now to construct a logging rail- 
 road. Then he promised himself and Wallace that 
 they would be ready to commence paying operations. 
 
 The logging railroad was just then beginning to 
 gain recognition. A few miles of track, a locomotive, 
 and a number of cars consisting uniquely of wheels 
 and " bunks," or cross beams on which to chain the 
 logs, and a fairly well-graded right-of-way comprised 
 the outfit. Its use obviated the necessity of driving the 
 river always an expensive operation. Often, too, 
 the decking at the skidways could be dispensed with ; 
 and the sleigh hauls, if not entirely superseded for the 
 remote districts, were entirely so in the country for a 
 half mile on either side of the track, and in any case 
 were greatly shortened. There obtained, too, the ad- 
 ditional advantage of being able to cut summer and 
 winter alike. Thus, the plant once established, log- 
 ging by railroad was not only easier but cheaper. Of 
 late years it has come into almost universal use in big 
 jobs and wherever the nature of the country will per- 
 mit. The old-fashioned, picturesque ice-road sleigh-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 haul will last as long as north-woods lumbering, 
 even in the railroad districts, but the loconotive 
 now does the heavy v rk. 
 
 With the capital to )e obtained from the following 
 winter's product, Thcipe hoped to be able to establish 
 a branch which should run from a point some two miles 
 behind Camp One, to a "dump" a short distance above 
 the mill. For this he had made all the estimates, and 
 even the preliminary survey. He was therefore the 
 more grievously disappointed, when Wallace Carpen- 
 ter made it impossible for him to do so. 
 
 He was sitting in the mill-office one day about the 
 middle of July. Herrick, the engineer, had just been 
 in. He could not keep the engine in order, although 
 Thorpe knew that it could be done. 
 
 " I've sot up nights with her," said Herrick, " and 
 she's no go. I think I can fix her when my head gets 
 all right. I got headachy lately. And somehow that 
 last lot of Babbit metal didn't seem to act just right." 
 
 Thorpe looked out of the window, tapping his desk 
 slowly with the end of a lead pencil. 
 
 " Collins," said he to the bookkeeper, without rais- 
 ing his voice or altering his position, " make out Her- 
 rick's time." 
 
 The man stood there astonished. 
 
 " But I had hard luck, sir," he expostulated. 
 " She'll go all right now, I think." 
 
 Thorpe turned and looked at him. 
 
 " Herrick," he said, not unkindly, " this is the 
 second time this summer the mill has had to close 
 early on account of that engine. We have supplied 
 you with everything you asked for. If you can't do it, 
 we shall have to get a man who can." 
 
 " But I had " began the man once more. 
 
 " I ask every man to succeed in what I give him 
 to do," interrupted Thorpe. " If he has a headache, 
 he must brace up or quit. If his Babbit doesn't act
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 259 
 
 just right he must doctor it up; or get some more, 
 even if he has to steal it. If he has hard luck, he must 
 sit up nights to better it. It's none of my concern how 
 hard or how easy a time a man has in doing what I 
 tell him to. / expect him to do it. If I have to do aM 
 a man's thinking for him, I may as well hire Swedes 
 and be done with it. I have too many details to attend 
 to already without bothering about excuses." 
 
 The man stood puzzling over this logic. 
 
 " I ain't got any other job," he ventured. 
 
 " You can go to piling on the docks," replied 
 Thorpe, " if you want to." 
 
 Thorpe was thus explicit because he rather liked 
 Herrick. It was hard for him to discharge the man 
 peremptorily, and he proved the need of justifying 
 himself in his own eyes. 
 
 Now he sat back idly in the clean painted little room 
 with the big square desk and the three chairs. 
 Through the door he could see Collins, perched on a 
 high stool before the shelf-like desk. From the open 
 window came the clear, musical note of the circular 
 saw, the fresh aromatic smell of new lumber, the brac- 
 ing air from Superior sparkling in the offing. He felt 
 tired. In rare moments such as these, when the mus- 
 cles of his striving relaxed, his mind turned to the past 
 Old sorrows rose before him and looked at him with 
 their sad eyes ; the sorrows that had helped to make 
 him what he was, He wondered where his sister was. 
 She would be twenty-two years old now. A tender- 
 ness, haunting, tearful, invaded his heart. He suf- 
 fered. At such moments the hard shell of his rough 
 woods life seemed to rend apart. He longed with a 
 great longing for sympathy, for love, for the softer 
 influences that cradle even warriors between the 
 clangors of the battles. 
 
 The outer door, beyond the cage behind which Col- 
 lins and his shelf desk were placed, flew open. Thorpe
 
 260 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 heard a brief greeting, and Wallace Carpenter stood 
 before him. 
 
 " Why, Wallace, I didn't know you were coming ! " 
 began Thorpe, and stopped. The boy, usually stf 
 fresh and happily buoyant, looked ten years older. 
 Wrinkles had gathered between his eyes. " Why, 
 what's the matter? " cried Thorpe. 
 
 He rose swiftly and shut the door into the outer 
 office. Wallace seated himself mechanically. 
 
 " Everything ! everything ! " he said in despair. 
 14 I've been a fool ! I've been blind ! " 
 
 So bitter was his tone that Thorpe was startled. 
 The lumberman sat down on the other side of the 
 desk. 
 
 " That'll do, Wallace," he said sharply. " Tell me 
 briefly what is the matter." 
 
 " I've been speculating! " burst out the boy. 
 
 " Ah ! " said his partner. 
 
 " At first I bought only dividend-paying stocks out- 
 right. Then I bought for a rise, but still outright. 
 Then I got in with a fellow who claimed to know ail 
 about it. I bought on a margin. There came a 
 slump. I met the margins because I am sure there 
 will be a rally, but now all my fortune is in the thing. 
 I'm going to be penniless. I'll lose it all." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Thorpe. 
 
 " And the name of Carpenter is so old-established, 
 so honorable ! " cried the unhappy boy, " and my 
 sister ! " 
 
 " Easy ! " warned Thorpe. " Being penniless isn't 
 the worst thing that can happen to a man." 
 
 " No ; but I am in debt," went on the boy more 
 calmly. " I have given notes. When they come due, 
 I'm a goner." 
 
 " How much ? " asked Thorpe laconically. 
 
 " Thirty thousand dollars." 
 
 " Well, you have that amount in this firm."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 264 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " If you want it, you can have it." 
 
 Wallace considered a moment. 
 
 " That would leave me without a cent," he replied. 
 
 " But it would save your commercial honor." 
 
 " Harry," cried Wallace suddenly, " couldn't this 
 firm go on my note for thirty thousand more? Its 
 credit is good, and that amount would save my mar- 
 gins." 
 
 " You are partner," replied Thorpe, " your signa- 
 ture is as good as mine in this firm." 
 
 " But you know I wouldn't do it without your con- 
 sent," replied Wallace reproachfully. " Oh, Harry ! " 
 cried the boy, " when you needed the amount, I let 
 you have it ! " 
 
 Thorpe smiled. 
 
 " You know you can have it, if it's to be had, Wal- 
 lace. I wasn't hesitating on that account. I was 
 merely trying to figure out where we can raise such 
 a ?um as sixty thousand dollars. We haven't got it. M 
 
 " But you'll never have to pay it," assured Wallace 
 eagerly. " If I can save my margins, I'll be all right." 
 
 " A man has to figure on paying whatever he puts 
 his signature to," asserted Thorpe. " I can give you 
 our note payable at the end of a year. Then I'll hustle 
 in enough timber to make up the amount. It means 
 we don't get our railroad, that's all." 
 
 " I knew you'd help me out. Now it's all right," 
 said Wallace, with a relieved air. 
 
 Thorpe shook his head. He was already trying to 
 figure how to increase his cut to thirty million feet. 
 
 " I'll do it," he muttered to himself, after Wallace 
 had gone out to visit the mill. " I've been demanding 
 success of others for a good many years; now I'll d^ 
 nwnd it of myself."
 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL 
 
 r -.; 
 
 Part IV 
 Thorpe's Dream Girl 
 
 r r 
 r
 
 Chapter XXXVII 
 
 rHE moment had struck for the woman. 
 Thorpe did not know it, but it was true. A 
 solitary, brooding life in the midst of grand 
 surroundings, an active, strenuous life among great 
 responsibilities, a starved, hungry life of the affections 
 whence even the sister had withdrawn her love, all 
 these had worked unobtrusively towards the forma- 
 tion of a single psychological condition. Such a mo- 
 ment comes to every man. In it he realizes the beau- 
 ties, the powers, the vastnesses which unconsciously 
 his being has absorbed. They rise to the surface as a 
 need, which, being satisfied, is projected into the visi- 
 ble world as an ideal to be worshipped. Then is happi- 
 ness and misery beside which the mere struggle to 
 dominate men becomes trivial, the petty striving with 
 the forces of nature seems a little thing. And the 
 woman he at that time meets takes on the qualities of 
 the dream; she is more than woman, less than god- 
 dess ; she is the best of that man made visible. 
 
 Thorpe found himself for the first time filled with 
 the spirit of restlessness. His customary iron even- 
 ness of temper was gone, so that he wandered quickly 
 from one detail of his work to another, without seem- 
 ing to penetrate below the surface-need of any one 
 task. Out of the present his mind was always escap- 
 ing to a mystic fourth dimension which he did not 
 understand. But a week before, he had felt himself 
 absorbed in the component parts of his enterprise, the 
 totality of which arched far over his head, shutting out 
 the skv. Now he was outside of it. He had, without
 
 266 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 his volition, abandoned the creator's standpoint of the 
 god at the heart of his work. It seemed as important, 
 as great to him, but somehow it had taken on a strange 
 solidarity, as though he had left it a plastic beginning 
 and returned to find it hardened into the shapes of 
 finality. He acknowledged it admirable, and won- 
 dered how he had ever accomplished it! He con- 
 fessed that it should be finished as it had begun, and 
 could not discover in himself the Titan who had 
 watched over its inception. 
 
 Thorpe took this state of mind much to heart, and 
 in combating it expended more energy than would 
 have sufficed tc accomplish the work. Inexorably he 
 held himself to the task. He filled his mind full of 
 lumbering. The millions along the bank on section 
 nine must be cut and travoyed directly to the rollways. 
 It was a shame that the necessity should arise. From 
 section nine Thorpe had hoped to lighten the expenses 
 when finally he should begin operations on the distant 
 and inaccessible headwaters of French Creek. Now 
 there was no help for it. The instant necessity was to 
 get thirty millions of pine logs down the river before 
 Wallace Carpenter's notes came due. Every other 
 consideration had to yield before that. Fifteen mill- 
 ions more could be cut on seventeen, nineteen, and 
 eleven, regions hitherto practically untouched, by 
 the men in the four camps inland. Camp One and 
 Camp Three could attend to section nine. 
 
 These were details to which Thorpe applied his 
 mind. As he pushed through the sun-flecked forest, 
 laying out his roads, placing his travoy trails, spying 
 the difficulties that might supervene to mar the fair 
 face of honest labor, he had always this thought before 
 him, that he must apply his mind. By an effort, a 
 tremendous effort, he succeeded in doing so. The 
 effort left him limp. He found himself often standing, 
 or moving gently, his eyes staring sightless, his mind
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 267 
 
 cradled on vague misty clouds of absolute inaction, 
 his will chained so softly and yet so firmly that he felt 
 no strength and hardly the desire to break from the 
 dream that lulled him. Then he was conscious of the 
 physical warmth of the sun, the faint sweet woods 
 smells, the soothing caress of the breeze, the sleepy 
 cicada-like note of the pine creeper. Through his 
 naif-closed lashes the tangled sun-beams made soft- 
 tinted rainbows. He wanted nothing so much as to 
 sit on the pine needles there in the golden flood of 
 radiance, and dream dream on vaguely, comfort- 
 ably, sweetly dream of the summer 
 
 Thorpe, with a mighty and impatient effort, snapped 
 the silken cords asunder. 
 
 " Lord, Lord ! " he cried impatiently. " What's 
 coming to me ? I must be a little off my feed ! " 
 
 And he hurried rapidly to his duties. After an hour 
 of the hardest concentration he had ever been required 
 to bestow on a trivial subject, he again unconsciously 
 sank by degrees into the old apathy. 
 
 " Glad it isn't the busy season ! " he commented to 
 himself. " Here, I must quit this ! Guess it's the 
 warm weather. I'll get down to the mill for a day or 
 two." 
 
 There he found himself incapable of even the most 
 petty routine work. He sat to his desk at eight 
 o'clock and began the perusal of a sheaf of letters, 
 comprising a certain correspondence, which Collins 
 brought him. The first three he read carefully; the 
 following two rather hurriedly; of the next one he 
 seized only the salient and essential points ; the seventh 
 and eighth he skimmed ; the remainder of the bundle 
 he thrust aside in uncontrollable impatience. Next 
 day he returned to the woods. 
 
 The incident of the letters had aroused to the full 
 his old fighting spirit, before which no mere instincts 
 could stand. He clamped the iron to his actions and
 
 268 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 forced them to the way appointed. Once more his 
 mental processes became clear and incisive, his com- 
 mands direct and to the point. To all outward appear- 
 ance Thorpe was as before. 
 
 He opened Camp One, and the Fighting Forty came 
 back from distant drinking joints. This was in early 
 September, when the raspberries were entirely done 
 and the blackberries fairly in the way of vanishing. 
 That able-bodied and devoted band of men was on 
 hand when needed. Shearer, in some subtle manner 
 of his own, had let them feel that this year meant thirty 
 million or " bust." They tightened their leather belts 
 and stood ready for commands. Thorpe set them to 
 work near the river, cutting roads along the lines he 
 had blazed to the inland timber on seventeen and nine- 
 teen. After much discussion with Shearer the young 
 man decided to take out the logs from eleven by driv- 
 ing them down French Creek. 
 
 To this end a gang was put to clearing the creek- 
 bed. It was a tremendous job. Centuries of forest 
 life had choked the little stream nearly to the level of 
 its banks. Old snags and stumps lay imbedded in the 
 ooze; decayed trunks, moss-grown, blocked the cur- 
 rent; leaning tamaracks, fallen timber, tangled vines, 
 dense thickets gave to its course more the appearance 
 of a tropical jungle than of a north country brook- 
 bed. All these things had to be removed, one by one, 
 and either piled to one side or burnt. In the end, 
 however, it would pay. French Creek was not a large 
 stream, but it could be driven during the time of the 
 spring freshets. 
 
 Each night the men returned in the beautiful dream- 
 like twilight to the camp. There they sat, after eating, 
 smoking their pipes in the open air. Much of the time 
 they sang, while Phil, crouching wolf-like over his 
 violin, rasped out an accompaniment of dissonances. 
 From a distance it softened and fitted pleasantly into
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 269 
 
 the framework of the wilderness. The men's voices 
 lent themselves well to the weird minor strains of the 
 chanteys. These times when the men sang, and the 
 night-wind rose and died in the hemlock tops were 
 Thorpe's worst moments. His soul, tired with the 
 day's iron struggle, fell to brooding. Strange thoughts 
 came to him, strange visions. He wanted something 
 he knew not what ; he longed, and thrilled, and 
 aspired to a greater glory than that of brave deeds, 
 a softer comfort than his old foster mother, the wilder- 
 ness, could bestow. 
 
 The men were singing in a mighty chorus, swaying 
 their heads in unison, and bringing out with a roar 
 the emphatic words of the crude ditties written bj 
 some genius from their own ranks. 
 
 M Come all ye sons of freedom throughout old Michigan, 
 Come all ye gallant lumbermen, list to a shanty man, 
 On the banks of the Muskegon, where the rapid water* 
 
 flow, 
 
 QHf we'll range the wild woods der while a-lumbering 
 we go," 
 
 Here was the bold unabashed front of the pioneer, 
 here was absolute certainty in the superiority of his 
 calling, absolute scorn of all others. Thorpe passed 
 his hand across his brow. The same spirit was once 
 fully and freely his. 
 
 * The music of our burnished ax shall make the wood* 
 
 resound, 
 
 And many a lofty ancient pine will tumble to the ground* 
 At night around our shanty fire we'll sing while rudt 
 
 winds blow, 
 OH / we* II range the wild woods o*er while a-lumbering 
 
 we go I " 
 
 That was what he was here for. Things were going 
 right. It would be pitiful to fail merely on account
 
 27 o THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 r* this idiotic lassitude, this unmanly weakness, this. 
 boyish impatience and desire for play. He a woods- 
 man ! He a fellow with these big strong men ! 
 
 A single voice, clear and high, struck into a quick 
 measure : 
 
 * / am a jolly shanty boy, 
 
 As you will soon discover ; 
 To all the dodges I am fly, 
 
 A hustling pine-woods rover. 
 A peavey-hook it is my pride, 
 
 An ax I well can handle. 
 To fell a tree or punch a bull 
 
 Get rattling Danny Randall? 
 
 And then with a rattle and crash the whole Fighting 
 Forty shrieked out the chorus : 
 
 " Bung yer eye ! bung yer eye ! " 
 
 Active, alert, prepared for any emergency that might 
 arise; hearty, ready for everything, from punching 
 bulls to felling trees that was something like! 
 Thorpe despised himself. The song went oa. 
 
 a / love a girl in Saginaw, 
 
 She lives with her mother. 
 I defy all Michigan 
 
 To find such another. 
 She's tall and slim, her hair is red. 
 
 Her face is plump and pretty. 
 She's my daisy Sunday best-day girl, 
 
 And her front name stands for Kitty." 
 
 And again as before the Fighting Forty howled 
 truculently : 
 
 ** Bung yer eye t bung yer eye ! " 
 
 The words were vulgar, the air a mere minor chant. 
 Yet Thorpe's mind was stilled. His aroused subcon-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 271 
 
 sciousness had been engaged in reconstructing these 
 men entire as their songs voiced rudely the inner char- 
 acteristics of their beings. Now his spirit halted, 
 finger on lip. Their bravery, pride of caste, resource, 
 bravado, boastfulness, all these he had checked off 
 approvingly. Here now was the idea of the Mate. 
 Somewhere for each of them was a " Kitty," a " daisy 
 Sunday best-day girl " ; the eternal feminine ; the softer 
 side ; the tenderness, beatrty^- glory of even so harsh a 
 world as they were compelled to inhabit. - At the pres- 
 ent or in the past these woods roisterers, this Fighting 
 Forty, had known love. Thorpe" arose abruptly and 
 turned at random into the forest. The ong pursued 
 him as he went, but he heard only the clear sweet 
 tones, not the words. And yet even the words would 
 have spelled to his awakened sensibilities another idea, 
 would have symbolized, however rudely, compan- 
 ionship and the human delight of acting a part before 
 a woman. 
 
 " / took her to a dance one night % 
 
 A mossback gave the bidding 
 Silver Jack bossed the shebang. 
 
 And Big Dan played the fiddle. 
 We danced and drank the livelong night 
 
 With fights between the dancing , 
 Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch 
 
 And sent the mossbacks prancing :" 
 
 And with the increasing war and turmoil of Ac 
 quick water the last shout of the Fighting Forty min- 
 gled faintly and was lost. 
 
 " Bung yer eye I bung yer eye ! " 
 
 Thorpe found himself at the edge of the woods fao- 
 ing a little glade into which streamed the radiance of 
 a full moon.
 
 Chapter XXXVIII 
 
 rHERE he stood and looked silently, not 
 understanding, not caring to inquire. Across 
 the way a white-throat was singing, clear, 
 beautiful, like the shadow of a dream. The girl stood 
 listening. 
 
 Her small fair head was inclined ever so little side- 
 ways and her finger was on her lips as though she 
 wished to still the very hush of night, to which impres- 
 sion the inclination of her supple body lent its grace. 
 The moonlight shone full upon her countenance. A lit- 
 tle white face it was, with wide clear eyes and a sensi- 
 tive, proud mouth that now half parted like a child's. 
 Her eyebrows arched from her straight nose in the pe- 
 culiarly graceful curve that falls just short of pride on 
 the one side and of power on the other, to fill the eyes 
 with a pathos of trust and innocence. The man watch- 
 ing could catch the poise of her long white neck and 
 the molten moon-fire from her tumbled hair, the 
 color of corn-silk, but finer. 
 
 And yet these words mean nothing. A painter 
 might have caught her charm, but he must needs be 
 a poet as well, and a great poet, one capable of 
 grandeurs and subtleties. 
 
 To the young man standing there rapt in the spell 
 of vague desire, of awakened vision, she seemed most 
 like a flower or a mist. He tried to find words to 
 formulate her to himself, but did not succeed. Always 
 it came back to the same idea the flower and the 
 mist. Like the petals of a flower most delicate was 
 her questioning, upturned face; like the bend of a 
 
 273
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 273 
 
 Lower most rare the stalk of her graceful throat ; like 
 the poise of a flower most dainty the attitude of her 
 beautiful, perfect body sheathed in a garment that out- 
 lined each movement, for the instant in suspense. 
 Like a mist the glimmering of her skin, the shining of 
 her hair, the elusive moonlike quality of her whole per- 
 sonality as she stood there in the ghost-like clearing 
 listening, her fingers on her lips. 
 
 Behind her lurked the low, even shadow of the for- 
 est where the moon was not, a band cf velvet against 
 which the girl and the light-touched twigs and bushes 
 and grass blades were etched like frost against a black 
 window pane. There was something, too, of the frost- 
 work's evanescent spiritual quality in the scene, as 
 though at any moment, with a puff of the balmy sum- 
 mer wind, the radiant glade, the hovering figure, the 
 filagreed silver of the entire setting would melt into 
 the accustomed stern and menacing forest of the north- 
 land, with its wolves, and its wild deer, and the voices 
 of its sterner calling. 
 
 Thorpe held his breath and waited. Again the 
 white-throat lifted his clear, spiritual note across the 
 brightness, slow, trembling with ecstacy. The girl 
 never moved. She stood in the moonlight like a beau- 
 tiful emblem of silence, half real, half fancy, part 
 woman, wholly divine, listening to the little bird's 
 message. 
 
 For the third time the song shivered across the 
 night ; then Thorpe with a soft sob, dropped his face 
 in his hands and looked no more. 
 
 He did not feel the earth beneath his knees, nor the 
 whip of the sumach across his face ; he did not see the 
 moon shadows creep slowly along the fallen birch; 
 nor did he notice that the white-throat had hushed its 
 song. His inmost spirit was shaken. Something had 
 entered his soul and filled it to the brim, so that he 
 dared no longer stand in the face of radiance until he
 
 274 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 had accounted with himself. Another drop would 
 overflow the cup. 
 
 Ah, sweet God, the beauty of it, the beauty of it! 
 That questing, childlike starry gaze, seeking so purely 
 to the stars themselves! That flower face, those 
 drooping, half parted lips! That inexpressible, un- 
 seizable something they had meant ! Thorpe searched 
 humbly eagerly then with agony through his 
 troubled spirit, and in its furthermost depths saw the 
 mystery as beautifully remote as ever. It approached 
 and swept over him and left him gasping passion- 
 racked. Ah, sweet God, the beauty of it ! the beauty 
 of it ! the vision ! the dream ! 
 
 He trembled and sobbed with his desire to seize it, 
 with his impotence to express it, with his failure even 
 to appreciate it as his heart told him it should be ap- 
 preciated. 
 
 He dared not look. At length he turned and stum- 
 bled back through the moonlit forest crying on his old 
 gods in vain. 
 
 At the banks of the river he came to a halt. There 
 in the velvet pines the moonlight slept calmly, and 
 the shadows rested quietly under the breezeless sky. 
 Near at hand the river shouted as ever its cry of joy 
 over the vitality of life, like a spirited boy before the 
 face of inscrutable nature. All else was silence. Then 
 from the waste boomed a strange, hollow note, rising, 
 dying, rising again, instinct with the spirit of the wilds. 
 It fell, and far away sounded a heavy but distant crash. 
 The cry lifted again. It was the first bull moose call- 
 ing across the wilderness to his mate. 
 
 And then, faint but clear down the current of a 
 chance breeze drifted the chorus of the Fighting 
 Forty. 
 
 " The forests so brown at our stroke go down. 
 
 And cities spring up where they fell ; 
 While logs well run and work well done 
 Is the story the shanty boys tell"
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 275 
 
 Thorpe turned from the river with a thrust forward 
 of his head. He was not a religious man, and in his 
 six years' woods experience had never been to church. 
 Mow he looked up over the tops of the pines to where 
 ;he Pleiades glittered faintly among the brighter stars. 
 
 " Thanks, God," said he briefly.
 
 Chapter XXXIX 
 
 JTT^OR several days this impression satisfied him 
 rj completely. He discovered, strangely enough, 
 m that his restlessness had left him, that once 
 more he was able to give to his work his former energy 
 and interest. It was as though some power had raised 
 its finger and a storm had stilled, leaving cairn, un- 
 ruffled skies. 
 
 He did not attempt to analyze this ; he did not evea 
 make an effort to contemplate it. His critical faculty 
 was stricken dumb and it asked no questions of him. 
 At a touch his entire life had changed. Reality or 
 vision, he had caught a glimpse of something so en- 
 tirely different from anything his imagination or ex- 
 perience had ever suggested to him, that at first he 
 could do no more than permit passively its influences 
 to adjust themselves to his being. 
 
 Curiosity, speculation, longing, all the more active 
 emotions remained in abeyance while outwardly, for 
 three days, Harry Thorpe occupied himself only with 
 the needs of the Fighting Forty at Camp One. 
 
 In the early morning he went out with the gang. 
 While they chopped or heaved, he stood by serene. 
 Little questions of expediency he solved. Dilemmas 
 he discussed leisurely with Tim Shearer. Occasion- 
 ally he lent a shoulder when the peaveys lacked of pry- 
 ing a stubborn log from its bed. Not once did he 
 glance at the nooning sun. His patience was quiet 
 and sure. When evening came he smoked placidly 
 outside the office, listening to the conversation and 
 laughter of the men, caressing one of the beagles, while 
 
 276
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 277 
 
 the rest slumbered about his feet, watching dreamily 
 the night shadows and the bats. At about nine o'clock 
 he went to bed, and slept soundly. He was vaguely 
 conscious of a great peace within him, a great stillness 
 of the spirit, against which the metallic events of his 
 craft clicked sharply in vivid relief. It was the peace 
 and stillness of a river before it leaps. 
 
 Little by little the condition changed. The man felt 
 vague stirrings of curiosity. He speculated aimlessly 
 as to whether or not the glade, the moonlight, the girl, 
 had been real or merely the figments of imagination. 
 Almost immediately the answer leaped at him from 
 his heart. Since she was so certainly flesh and blood, 
 whence did she come? what was she doing there in 
 the wilderness ? His mind pushed the query aside as 
 unimportant, rushing eagerly to the essential point: 
 When could he see her again? How find for the 
 second time the vision before which his heart felt the 
 instant need of prostrating itself. His placidity had 
 gone. That morning he made some vague excuse to 
 Shearer and set out blindly down the river. 
 
 He did not know where he was going, any more 
 than did the bull moose plunging through the trackless 
 wilderness to his mate. Instinct, the instinct of all 
 wild natural creatures, led him. And so, without 
 thought, without clear intention even, most would 
 say by accident, he saw her again. It was near the 
 " pole trail " ; which was less like a trail than a rail- 
 fence. 
 
 For when the snows are deep and snowshoes not the 
 property of every man who cares to journey, the old- 
 fashioned " pole trail " comes into use. It is merely 
 a series of horses built of timber across which thick 
 Norway logs are laid, about four feet from the ground, 
 to form a continuous pathway. A man must be a 
 tight-rope walker to stick to the pole trail when ice 
 and snow have sheathed its logs. If he makes a mis-
 
 278 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 step, he is precipitated ludicrously into feathery 
 depths through which he must flounder to the nearest 
 timber horse before he can remount. In summer, as 
 has been said, it resembles nothing so much as a thick 
 one-rail fence of considerable height, around which a 
 fringe of light brush has grown. 
 
 Thorpe reached the fringe of bushes, and was about 
 to dodge under the fence, when he saw her. So he 
 stopped short, concealed by the leaves and the timber 
 V>rse. 
 
 She stood on a knoll in the middle of a grove of 
 monster pines. There was something of the cathedral 
 in the spot. A hush dwelt in the dusk, the long col- 
 umns lifted grandly to the Roman arches of the frond, 
 faint murmurings stole here and there like whispering 
 acolytes. The girl stood tall and straight among the 
 tall, straight pines like a figure on an ancient tapestry. 
 She was doing nothing just standing there but 
 the awe of the forest was in her wide, clear eyes. 
 
 The great sweet feeling clutched the young man's 
 throat again. But while the other, the vision of the 
 frost-work glade and the spirit-like figure of silence , 
 had been unreal and phantasmagoric, this was of the 
 earth. He looked, and looked, and looked again. He 
 saw the full pure curve of her cheek's contour, neither 
 oval nor round, but like the outline of a certain kind 
 of plum. He appreciated the half-pathetic downward 
 droop of the corners of her mouth, her red mouth 
 in dazzling, bewitching contrast to the milk-\Yhiteness 
 of her skin. He caught the fineness of her nose, 
 straight as a Grecian's, but with some faint suggestion 
 about the nostrils that hinted at piquance. And the 
 waving corn silk of her altogether charming and un- 
 ruly hair, the superb column of her long neck on which 
 her little head poised proudly like a flower, her sup- 
 ple body, whose curves had the long undulating grace 
 of the current in a swift river, her slender white hand
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 279 
 
 with the pointed fingers all these he saw one after 
 the other, an^< his soul shouted within him at the sight. 
 He wrestled with the emotions that choked him. 
 " Ah, God ! Ah, God ! " he cried softly to himself like 
 one in pain. He, the man of iron frame, of iron nerve, 
 hardened by a hundred emergencies, trembled in every 
 muscle before a straight, slender girl, clad all in brown, 
 standing alone in the middle of the ancient forest. 
 
 In a moment she stirred slightly, and turned. 
 Drawing herself to her full height, she extended her 
 hands over her head palm outward, and, with an inde- 
 scribably graceful gesture, half mockingly bowed a 
 ceremonious adieu to the solemn trees. Then with a 
 little laugh she moved away in the direction of the 
 river. 
 
 At once Thorpe proved a great need of seeing her 
 again. In his present mood there was nothing of the 
 awe-stricken peace he had experienced after the moon- 
 light adventure. He wanted the sight of her as he 
 had never wanted anything before. He must have it, 
 and he looked about him fiercely as though to chal- 
 lenge any force in Heaven or Hell that would deprive 
 him of it. His eyes desired to follow the soft white 
 curve of her cheek, to dance with the light of her corn- 
 silk hair, to delight in the poetic movements of her 
 tall, slim body, to trace the full outline of her chin, to 
 wonder at the carmine of her lips, red as a blood-spot 
 on the snow. These things must be at once. The 
 strong man desired it. And finding it impossible, he 
 raged inwardly and tore the tranquillities of his heart, 
 as on the shores of the distant Lake of Stars, the bull- 
 moose trampled down the bushes in his passion. 
 
 So it happened that he ate hardly at all that day, and 
 slept ill, and discovered the greatest difficulty in pre- 
 serving the outward semblance of ease which the pres- 
 ence of Tim Shearer and the Fighting Forty de 
 manded.
 
 280 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 And next day he saw her again, and the next, be- 
 cause the need of his heart demanded it, and because, 
 simply enough, she came every afternoon to the clump 
 of pines by the old pole trail. 
 
 Now had Thorpe taken the trouble to inquire, he 
 could have learned easily enough all there was to be 
 known of the affair. But he did not take the trouble. 
 His consciousness was receiving too many new im- 
 pressions, so that in a manner it became bewildered. 
 At first, as has been seen, the mere effect of the vision 
 was enough ; then the sight of the girl sufficed him. 
 But now curiosity awoke and a desire for something 
 more. He must speak to her, touch her hand, look 
 into her eyes. He resolved to approach her, and the 
 mere thought choked him and sent him weak. 
 
 When he saw her again from the shelter of the pole 
 trail, he dared not, and so stood there prey to a novel 
 sensation, that of being baffled in an intention. It 
 awoke within him a vast passion compounded part of 
 rage at himself, part of longing for that which he could 
 not take, but most of love for the girl. As he hesi- 
 tated in one mind but in two decisions, he saw that she 
 was walking slowly in his direction. 
 
 Perhaps a hundred paces separated the two. She 
 took them deliberately, pausing now and again to lis- 
 ten, to pluck a leaf, to smell the fragrant balsam and 
 fir tops as she passed them. Her progression was a 
 series of poses, the one of which melted imperceptibly 
 into the other without appreciable pause of transition. 
 So subtly did her grace appeal to the sense of sight, 
 that out of mere sympathy the other senses responded 
 with fictions of their own. Almost could the young 
 man behind the trail savor a faint fragrance, a faint 
 music that surrounded and preceded her like the 
 shadows of phantoms. He knew it as an illusion, 
 born ot his desire, and yet it was a noble illusion, for it 
 had its origin in her.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 281 
 
 In a moment she had reached the fringe of brush 
 about the pole trail. They stood face to face. 
 
 She gave a little start of surprise, and her hand 
 leaped to her breast, where it caught and stayed. Her 
 childlike down-drooping mouth parted a little more, 
 and the breath quickened through it. But her eyes, 
 her wide, trusting, innocent eyes, sought his and 
 rested. 
 
 He did not move. The eagerness, the desire, the 
 long years of ceaseless struggle, the thirst for affec- 
 tion, the sob of awe at the moonlit glade, the love, 
 all these flamed in his eyes and fixed his gaze in an 
 unconscious ardor that had nothing to do with con- 
 vention or timidity. One on either side of the spike- 
 marked old Norway log of the trail they stood, and 
 for an appreciable interval the duel of their glances 
 lasted, he masterful, passionate, exigent ; she proud, 
 cool, defensive in the aloofness of her beauty. Then 
 at last his prevailed. A faint color rose from her neck, 
 deepened, and spread over her face and forehead. In 
 a moment she dropped her eyes. 
 
 " Don't you think you stare a little rudely Mr. 
 Thorpe ? " she asked.
 
 Chapter XL 
 
 rHE vision was over, but the beauty remained. 
 The spoken words of protest made her a 
 woman. Never again would she, nor any 
 other creature of the earth, appear to Thorpe as she 
 had in the silver glade or the cloistered pines. He 
 had had his moment of insight. The deeps had twice 
 opened to permit him to look within. Now they had 
 closed again. But out of them had fluttered a great 
 love and the priestess of it. Always, so long as life 
 should be with him, Thorpe was destined to see in this 
 tall graceful girl with the red lips and the white skin 
 and the corn-silk hair, more beauty, more of the great 
 mysterious spiritual beauty which is eternal, than her 
 father or her mother or her dearest and best. For to 
 them the vision had not been vouchsafed, while he had 
 seen her as the highest symbol of God's splendor. 
 
 Now she stood before him, her head turned haU 
 away, a faint flush still tingeing the chalk-white of her 
 skin, watching him with a dim, half-pleading smile in 
 expectation of his reply. 
 
 " Ah, moon of my soul ! light of my life ! " he cried, 
 but he cried it within him, though it almost escaped 
 his vigilance to his lips. What he really said sounded 
 almost harsh in consequence. 
 
 " How did you know my name ? " he asked. 
 
 She planted both elbows on the Norway and framed 
 her little face deliciously with her long pointed hands. 
 
 " If Mr. Harry Thorpe can ask that question," she 
 replied, " he is not quite so impolite as I had thought 
 him." 
 
 282
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 283 
 
 " If you don't stop pouting your lips, I shall kiss 
 them ! " cried Harry to himself. 
 
 " How is that ? " he inquired breathlessly. 
 
 " Don't you know who I am? " she asked in re- 
 turn. 
 
 " A goddess, a beautiful woman ! " he answered 
 ridiculously enough. 
 
 She looked straight at him. This time his gaze 
 dropped. 
 
 " I am a friend of Elizabeth Carpenter, who is Wal- 
 lace Carpenter's sister, who I believe is Mr. Harry 
 Thorpe's partner." 
 
 She paused as though for comment. The young 
 man opposite was occupied in many other more im- 
 portant directions. Some moments later the words 
 trickled into his brain, and some moments after that 
 he realized their meaning. 
 
 " We wrote Mr. Harry Thorpe that we were about 
 to descend on his district with wagons and tents and 
 Indians and things, and asked him to come and see 
 us." 
 
 " Ah, heart o' mine, what clear, pure eyes she has ! 
 How they look at a man to drown his soul ! " 
 
 Which, even had it been spoken, was hardly the 
 comment one would have expected. 
 
 The girl looked at him for a moment steadily, then 
 smiled. The change of countenance brought Thorpe 
 to himself, and at the same moment the words she had 
 spoken reached his comprehension. 
 
 " But I never received the letter. I'm so sorry," 
 said he. " It must be at the mill. You see, I've been 
 up in the woods for nearly a month." 
 
 " Then we'll have to forgive you." 
 
 " But I should think they would have done some- 
 thing for you at the mill " 
 
 " Oh, we didn't come by way of your mill. We 
 drove from Marquette."
 
 284 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 "I see," cried Thorpe, enlightened. "But I'm 
 sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry you didn't let me 
 know. I suppose you thought I was still at the mill. 
 How did you get along? Is Wallace with you? " 
 
 " No," she replied, dropping her hands and straight- 
 ening her erect figure. " It's horrid. He was coming, 
 and then some business came up and he couldn't get 
 away. We are having the loveliest time though. I 
 do adore the woods. Come," she cried impatiently, 
 sweeping aside to leave a way clear, " you shall meet 
 my friends." 
 
 Thorpe imagined she referred to the rest of the tent- 
 ing party. He hesitated. 
 
 " I am hardly in fit condition," he objected. 
 
 She laughed, parting her red lips. " You are ex- 
 tremely picturesque just as you are," she said with 
 rather embarrassing directness. " I wouldn't have you 
 any different for the world. But my friends don't 
 mind. They are used to it." She laughed again. 
 
 Thorpe crossed the pole trail, and for the first time 
 found himself by her side. The warm summer odors 
 were in the air, a dozen lively little birds sang in the 
 brush along the rail, the sunlight danced and flickered 
 through the openings. 
 
 Then suddenly they were among the pines, and the 
 air was cool, the vista dim, and the bird songs incon- 
 ceivably far away. 
 
 The girl walked directly to the foot of a pine three 
 feet through, and soaring up an inconceivable distance 
 through the still twilight. 
 
 " This is Jimmy," said she gravely. " He is a dear 
 good old rough bear when you don't know him, but 
 he likes me. If you put your ear close against him," 
 she confided, suiting the action to the word, " you can 
 hear him talking to himself. This little /eJlpw is 
 
 Tommy. I don't care so much tor Tommy because 
 he's sticky. Still, I like hii 
 
 him pretty well, and heret
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 285 
 
 Dick, and that's Bob, and the one just beyond is 
 Jack." 
 
 " Where is Harry ? " asked Thorpe. 
 
 " I thought one in a woods was quite sufficient," 
 she replied with the least little air of impertinence. 
 
 " Why do you name them such common, everyday 
 names ? " he inquired. 
 
 " I'll tell you. It's because they are so big and 
 grand themselves, that it did not seem to me they need- 
 ed high-sounding names. What do you think?" she 
 begged with an appearance of the utmost anxiety. 
 
 Thorpe expressed himself as in agreement. As the 
 half-quizzical conversation progressed, he found their 
 relations adjusting themselves with increasing rapid- 
 ity. He had been successively the mystic devotee be- 
 fore his vision, the worshipper before his goddess ; 
 now he was unconsciously assuming the attitude of 
 the lover before his mistress. It needs always this 
 humanizing touch to render the greatest of all pas- 
 sions livable. 
 
 And as the human element developed, he proved at 
 the same time greater and greater difficulty in repress- 
 ing himself and greater and greater fear of the results 
 in case he should not do so. He trembled with the 
 desire to touch her long slender hand, and as soon as 
 his imagination had permitted him that much he had 
 already crushed her to him and had kissed passionately 
 her starry face. Words hovered on his lips longing for 
 flight. He withheld them by an effort that left him 
 almost incoherent, for he feared with a deadly fear lest 
 he lose forever what the vision had seemed to offer 
 to his hand. 
 
 So he said little, and that lamely, for he dreaded to 
 say too much. To her playful sallies he had no riposte. 
 And in consequence he fell more silent with another 
 boding that he was losing his cause outright for lack 
 of a ready word.
 
 286 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 He need not have been alarmed. A woman in such 
 a case hits as surely as a man misses. Her very dain- 
 tiness and preciosity of speech indicated it. For 
 where a man becomes stupid and silent, a woman 
 covers her emotions with words and a clever speech. 
 Not in vain is a proud-spirited girl stared down in such 
 a contest of looks ; brave deeds simply told by a friend 
 are potent to win interest in advance ; a straight, mus- 
 cular figure, a brown skin, a clear, direct eye, a car- 
 riage of power and acknowledged authority, strike 
 hard at a young imagination ; a mighty passion sweeps 
 aside the barriers of the heart. Such a victory, such a 
 friend, such a passion had Thorpe. 
 
 And so the last spoken exchange between them 
 meant nothing ; but if each could have read the unsaid 
 words that quivered on the other's heart, Thorpe 
 would have returned to the Fighting Forty more tran- 
 quilly, while she would probably not have returned to 
 the camping party at all for a number of hours. 
 
 " I do not think you had better come with me," she 
 said. " Make your call and be forgiven on your own 
 account. I don't want to drag you in at my chariot 
 wheels." 
 
 " All right. I'll come this afternoon," Thorpe had 
 replied. 
 
 " I love her, I must have her. I must go at 
 once," his soul had cried, " quick now before I 
 kiss her! " 
 
 " How strong he is," she said to herself, " how 
 brave-looking ; how honest ! He is different from the 
 other men. He is magnificent."
 
 Chapter XLI 
 
 rHAT afternoon Thorpe met the other mem- 
 bers of the party, offered his apologies and ex- 
 planations, and was graciously forgiven. He 
 found the personnel to consist of, first of all, Mrs. 
 Gary, the chaperone, a very young married woman of 
 twenty-two or thereabouts; her husband, a youth of 
 three years older, clean-shaven, light-haired, quiet- 
 mannered ; Mis? Elizabeth Carpenter, who resembled 
 her brotner in the characteristics of good-looks, viva- 
 cious disposition and curly hair; an attendant satellite 
 of the masculine persuasion called Morton; and last 
 of all the girl whom Thorpe had already so variously 
 encountered and whom he now met as Miss Hilda Far- 
 rand. Besides these were Ginger, a squab negro built 
 to fit the galley of a yacht; and three Indian guides- 
 They inhabited tents, which made quite a little en- 
 campment. 
 
 Thorpe was received with enthusiasm. Wallace 
 Carpenter's stories of his woods partner, while never 
 doing more than justice to the truth, had been of a 
 warm color tone. One and all owned a lively curios- 
 ity to see what a real woodsman might be like. When 
 he proved to be handsome and well mannered, as well 
 as picturesque, his reception was no longer in doubt. 
 
 Nothing could exceed his solicitude as to their com- 
 fort and amusement. He inspected personally the ar- 
 rangement of the tents, and suggested one or two 
 changes conducive to the littler comforts. This was 
 not much like ordinary woods-camping. The largest 
 wall-tent contained three folding cots for the women, 
 
 28"
 
 288 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 over which, in the daytime, were flung bright-colored 
 Navajo blankets. Another was spread on the ground. 
 Thorpe later, however, sent over two bear skins, which 
 were acknowledgedly an improvement. To the tent 
 pole a mirror of size was nailed, and below it stood a 
 portable washstand. The second tent, devoted to the 
 two men, was not quite so luxurious ; but still boasted 
 of little conveniences the true woodsman would never 
 tonsider worth the bother of transporting. The third, 
 equally large, was the dining tent. The other three, 
 smaller, and on the A tent order, served respectively 
 as sleeping rooms for Ginger and the Indians, and as 
 a general store-house for provisions and impedimenta. 
 
 Thorpe sent an Indian to Camp One for the bear- 
 skins, put the rest to digging a trench around the 
 sleeping tents in order that a rain storm might not 
 cause a flood, and ordered Ginger to excavate a square 
 hole some feet deep which he intended to utilize as a 
 larder. 
 
 Then he gave Morton and Gary hints as to the deer 
 they wished to capture, pointed out the best trout 
 pools, and issued advice as to the compassing of cer- 
 tain blackberries, not far distant. 
 
 Simple things enough they were to do it was as 
 though a city man were to direct a newcomer to Cen- 
 tral Park, or impart to him a test for the destinations 
 of trolley lines yet Thorpe's new friends were pro- 
 foundly impressed with his knowledge of occult things. 
 The forest was to them, as to most, more or less of a 
 mystery, unfathomable except to the favored of ge- 
 nius. A man who could interpret it, even a little, into 
 the speech of everyday comfort and expediency pos- 
 sessed a strong claim to their imaginations. When he 
 had finished these practical affairs, they wanted him 
 to sit down and tell them more things, to dine with 
 them, to smoke about their camp fire in the evening. 
 But here they encountered a decided check. Thorpe
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 289 
 
 became silent, almost morose. He talked in monosyl- 
 lables, and soon went away. They did not know what 
 to make of him, and so were, of course, the more pro- 
 foundly interested. The truth was, his habitual reti- 
 cence would not have permitted a great degree of ex- 
 pansion in any case, but now the presence of Hilda 
 made any but an attitude of hushed waiting for hei 
 words utterly impossible to him. He wished well to 
 them all. If there was anything he could do for them, 
 he would gladly undertake it. But he would not act 
 the lion nor tell of his, to them, interesting adventures. 
 
 However, when he discovered that Hilda had ceased 
 visiting the clump of pines near the pole trail, his desire 
 forced him back among these people. He used to 
 walk in swiftly at almost any time of day, casting quick 
 glances here and there in search of his divinity. 
 
 " How do, Mrs. Gary," he would say. " Nice 
 weather. Enjoying yourself ? " 
 
 On receiving the reply he would answer heartily, 
 ** That's good ! " and lapse into silence. When Hilda 
 was about he followed every movement of hers with 
 his eyes, so that his strange conduct lacked no expla- 
 nation nor interpretation, in the minds of the women 
 at least. Thrice he redeemed his reputation for being 
 an interesting character by conducting the party on 
 little expeditions here and there about the country. 
 Then his woodcraft and resourcefulness spoke for him. 
 They asked him about the lumbering operations, but 
 he seemed indifferent. 
 
 " Nothing to interest you," he affirmed. " We're 
 just cutting roads now. You ought to be here for the 
 drive." 
 
 To him there was really nothing interesting in the 
 cutting of roads nor the clearing of streams. It was 
 all in a day's work. 
 
 Once he took them over to see Camp One. They 
 were immensely pleased, and were correspondingly
 
 2go THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 loud in exclamations. Thorpe's comments were brief 
 and dry. After the noon dinner he had the unfortu- 
 nate idea of commending the singing of one of the 
 men. 
 
 " Oh, I'd like to hear him," cried Elizabeth Carpen- 
 :er. " Can't you get him to sing for us, Mr. Thorpe ? " 
 
 Thorpe went to the men's camp, where he singled 
 out the unfortunate lumber-jack in question. 
 
 " Come on, Archie," he said. " The ladies want to 
 hear you sing." 
 
 The man objected, refused, pleaded, and finally 
 obeyed what amounted to a command. Thorpe re- 
 entered the office with triumph, his victim in tow. 
 
 " This is Archie Harris," he announced heartily. 
 44 He's our best singer just now. Take a chair, 
 Archie." 
 
 The man perched on the edge of the chair and looked 
 straight out before him. 
 
 " Do sing for us, won't you, Mr. Harris ? " requested 
 Mrs. Cary in her sweetest tones. 
 
 The man said nothing, nor moved a muscle, but 
 turned a brick-red. An embarrassed silence of expec- 
 ation ensued. 
 
 " Hit her up, Archie," encouraged Thorpe. 
 
 " I ain't much in practice no how," objected the man 
 in a little voice, without moving. 
 
 " I'm sure you'll find us very appreciative," said 
 Elizabeth Carpenter. 
 
 " Give us a song, Archie, let her go," urged Thorpe 
 impatiently. 
 
 " All right," replied the man very meekly. 
 
 Another silence fell. It got to be a little awful. The 
 poor woodsman, pilloried before the regards of this 
 polite circle, out of his element, suffering cruelly, 
 nevertheless made no sign nor movement one way or 
 the other. At last when the situation had almost 
 reached the breaking point of hysteria, he began.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL -491 
 
 His voice ordinarily was rather a good tenor. Now 
 fie pitched it too high ; and went on straining at the 
 high notes to the very end. Instead of offering one 
 of the typical woods chanteys, he conceived that before 
 so grand an audience he should give something fancy. 
 He therefore struck into a sentimental song of the 
 cheap music-hall type. There were nine verses, ano 
 he drawled through them all, hanging whiningly on 
 the nasal notes in the fashion of the untrained singer. 
 Instead of being a performance typical of the strange 
 woods genius, it was merely an atrocious bit of cheap 
 sentimentalism, badly rendered. 
 
 The audience listened politely. When the song was 
 finished it murmured faint thanks. 
 
 " Oh, give us ' Jack Haggerty,' Archie,** urged 
 Thorpe. 
 
 But the woodsman rose, nodded his head awkward- 
 ly, and made his escape. He entered the men's camp 
 swearing, and for the remainder of the day made none 
 but blasphemous remarks. 
 
 The beagles, however, were a complete success. 
 They tumbled about, and lolled their tongues, and 
 laughed up out of a tangle of themselves in a fascinat- 
 ing manner. Altogether the visit to Camp One was 
 a success, the more so in that on the way back, for the 
 first time, Thorpe found that chance and Mrs. Gary 
 had allotted Hilda to his care. 
 
 A hundred yards down the trail they encountered 
 Phil. The dwarf stopped short, looked attentively at 
 the girl, and then softly approached. When quite near 
 to her he again stopped, gazing at her with his sou* 
 in his liquid eyes. 
 
 " You are more beautiful than the sea at night/' he 
 said directly. 
 
 The others laughed. " There's sincerity for you, 
 Miss Hilda," said young Mr. Morton. 
 
 " Who is he ? " asked the girl after they had moved
 
 292 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " Our chore-boy," answered Thorpe with great 
 brevity, for he was thinking of something much more 
 important. 
 
 After the rest of the party had gone ahead, leaving 
 them sauntering more slowly down the trail, he gave 
 it voice. 
 
 " Why don't you come to the pine grove any 
 more ? " he asked bluntly. 
 
 " Why ? " countered Hilda in the manner of women. 
 
 " I want to see you there. I want to talk with you. 
 I can't talk with all that crowd around." 
 
 " I'll come to-morrow," she said then with a little 
 mischievous laugh, " if that'll make you talk." 
 
 " You must think I'm awfully stupid," agreed 
 Thorpe bitterly. 
 
 " Ah, no ! Ah, no 1 " she protested softly. " You 
 must not say that." 
 
 She was looking at him very tenderly, if he had only 
 known it, but he did not, for his face was set in discon- 
 tented lines straight before him. 
 
 u It is true," he replied. 
 
 They walked on in silence, while gradually the dan- 
 
 Eous fascination of the woods crept down on them, 
 t before sunset a hush falls on nature. The wind 
 died, the birds have not yet begun their evening 
 songs, the light itself seems to have left off sparkling 
 and to lie still across the landscape. Such a hush 
 now lay on their spirits. Over the way a creeper was 
 droning sleepily a little chant, the only voice in the 
 wilderness. In the heart of the man, too, a little voice 
 raised itself alone. 
 
 " Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart I " it breathed 
 over and over again. After a while he said it gently 
 in a half voice. 
 
 " No, no, hush ! " said the girl, and she laid the soft, 
 warm fingers of one hand across his lips, and looked 
 at him from a height of superior soft-eyed tenderness
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 293 
 
 as a woman might look at a child. " You must not. 
 It is not right." 
 
 Then he kissed the fingers very gently before they 
 were withdrawn, and she said nothing at all in rebuke, 
 but looked straight before her with troubled eyes. 
 
 The voices of evening began to raise their jubilant 
 notes. From a tree nearby the olive thrush sang like 
 clockwork; over beyond carolled eagerly a black- 
 throat, a myrtle warbler, a dozen song sparrows, and 
 a hundred vireos and creepers. Down deep in the 
 blackness of the ancient woods a hermit thrush uttered 
 his solemn bell note, like the tolling of the spirit of 
 peace. And in Thorpe's heart a thousand tumultuous 
 voices that had suddenly roused to clamor, died into 
 nothingness at the music of her softly protesting voice.
 
 Chapter XLII 
 
 rHORPE returned to Camp One shortly after 
 dark. He found there Scotty Parsons, who 
 had come up to take charge of the crew en- 
 gaged in clearing French Creek. The man brought 
 him a number of letters sent on by Collins, among 
 which was one from Wallace Carpenter. 
 
 After commending the camping party to his com- 
 panion's care, and giving minute directions as to how 
 and where to meet it, the young fellow went on to say 
 that affairs were going badly on the Board. 
 
 " Some interest that I haven't been able to make out 
 yet has been hammering our stocks down day after 
 day," he wrote. " I don't understand it, for the stocks 
 are good they rest on a solid foundation of value 
 and intrinsically are worth more than is bid for them 
 right now. Some powerful concern is beating them 
 down for a purpose of its own. Sooner or later they 
 will let up, and then we'll get things back in good 
 shape. I am amply protected now, thanks to you, and 
 ani not at all afraid of losing my holdings. The only 
 difficulty is that I am unable to predict exactly when 
 the other fellows will decide that they have accom- 
 plished whatever they are about, and let up. It may 
 not be before next year. In that case I couldn't help 
 you out on those, notes when they come due. So put 
 in your best licks, old man. You may have to pony 
 up for a little while, though of course sooner or later 
 I can put it all back. Then, you bet your life, I keep 
 out of it. Lumbering's good enough for yours truly. 
 
 " By the way, you might shine up to Hilda Farrand 
 294
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 295 
 
 and join the rest of the fortune-hunters. She's got it 
 to throw to the birds, and in her own right. Seriously, 
 old fellow, don't put yourself into a false position 
 through ignorance. Not that there is any danger to 
 a hardened old woodsman like you." 
 
 Thorpe went to the group of pines by the pole trail 
 the following afternoon because he had said he would, 
 but with a new attitude of mind. He had come into 
 contact with the artificiality of conventional relations, 
 and it stiffened him. No wonder she had made him 
 keep silence the afternoon before! She had done it 
 gently and nicely, to be sure, but that was part of her 
 good-breeding. Hilda found him formal, reserved, 
 polite ; and marvelled at it. In her was no coquetry. 
 She was as straightforward and sincere as the look of 
 her eyes. 
 
 They sat down on a log. Hilda turned to him with 
 her graceful air of confidence. 
 
 " Now talk to me," said she. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Thorpe in a practical tone of 
 voice, " what do you want me to talk about ? " 
 
 She shot a swift, troubled glance at him, concluded 
 herself mistaken, and said : 
 
 " Tell me about what you do up here your life 
 all about it." 
 
 " Well " replied Thorpe formally, " we haven't 
 
 '.much to interest a girl like you. It is a question of 
 
 saw logs with us " and he went on in his dryest, most 
 
 technical manner to detail the process of manufacture. 
 
 It might as well have been bricks. 
 
 The girl did not understand. She was hurt. At 
 surely as the sun tangled in the distant pine frond, she 
 had seen in his eyes a great passion. Now it was 
 coldly withdrawn. 
 
 " What has happened to you ? " she asked finally out 
 of her great sincerity. 
 
 " Me ? Nothing," replied Thorpe.
 
 296 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 A forced silence fell upon him. Hilda seemed grad- 
 ually to lose herself in reverie. After a time she said 
 softly. 
 
 " Don't you love this woods ? " 
 
 " It's an excellent bunch of pine," replied Thorpe 
 bluntly. " It'll cut three million at least." 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried drawing back, her hands pressed 
 against the log either side of her, her eyes wide. 
 
 After a moment she caught her breath convulsively, 
 and Thorpe became conscious that she was studying 
 him furtively with a quickening doubt. 
 
 After that, by the mercy of God, there was no more 
 talk between them. She was too hurt and shocked 
 and disillusioned to make the necessary effort to go 
 away. He was too proud to put an end to the posi- 
 tion. They sat there apparently absorbed in thought, 
 while all about them the accustomed life of the woods 
 drew nearer and nearer to them, as the splash of their 
 entrance into it died away. 
 
 A red squirrel poised thirty feet above them, leaped, 
 and clung swaying to a sapling-top a dozen yards from 
 the tree he had quitted. Two chickadees upside down 
 uttering liquid undertones, searched busily for insects 
 next their heads. Wilson's warblers, pine creepers, 
 black-throats, myrtle and magnolia warblers, oven 
 birds, peewits, blue jays, purple finches, passed silently 
 or noisily, each according to his kind. Once a lone 
 spruce hen dusted herself in a stray patch of sunlight 
 until it shimmered on a tree trunk, raised upward, and 
 disappeared, to give place to long level dusty shafts 
 that shot here and there through the pines laying the 
 spell of sunset on the noisy woods brawlers. 
 
 Unconsciously the first strain of opposition and of 
 hurt surprise had relaxed. Each thought vaguely his 
 thoughts. Then in the depths of the forest, perhaps 
 near at hand, perhaps far away, a single hermit thrush 
 began to sing. His song was of three solemn deep
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 297 
 
 liquid notes ; followed by a slight rhetorical pause as 
 of contemplation ; and then, deliberately, three notes 
 more on a different key and so on without haste and 
 without pause. It is the most dignified, the most spir- 
 itual, the holiest of woods utterances. Combined with 
 the evening shadows and the warm soft air, it offered 
 to the heart an almost irresistible appeal. The man's 
 artificial antagonism modified; the woman's disen- 
 chantment began to seem unreal. 
 
 Then subtly over and through the bird-song another 
 sound became audible. At first it merely repeated the 
 three notes faintly, like an echo, but with a rich, sad 
 undertone that brought tears. Then, timidly and still 
 softly, it elaborated the theme, weaving in and out 
 through the original three the glitter and shimmer of 
 a splendid web of sound, spreading before the awak- 
 ened imagination a broad river of woods-imagery that 
 reflected on its surface all the subtler moods of the 
 forest. The pine shadows, the calls of the wild creat- 
 ures, the flow of the brook, the splashes of sunlight 
 through the trees, the sigh of the wind, the shout of 
 the rapid, all these were there, distinctly to be felt 
 in their most ethereal and beautiful forms. And yet 
 it was all slight and tenuous as though the crack of a 
 twig would break it through so that over it contin- 
 ually like a grand full organ-tone repeated the notes 
 of the bird itself. 
 
 With the first sigh of the wonder-music the girl had 
 started and caught her breath in the exquisite pleasure 
 of it. As it went on they both forgot everything but 
 the harmony and each other. 
 
 " Ah, beautiful ! " she murmured. 
 
 " What is it ? " he whispered marvelling. 
 
 " A violin, played by a master." 
 
 The bird suddenly hushed, and at once the strata 
 abandoned the woods-note and took another motif. 
 At first it played softly in the higher notes, a tinkling
 
 298 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 lightsome little melody that stirred a kindly surface- 
 smile over a full heart. Then suddenly, without tran- 
 sition, it dropped to the lower register, and began to 
 sob and wail in the full vibrating power of a great 
 passion. 
 
 And the theme it treated was love. It spoke sol- 
 emnly, fearfully of the greatness of it, the glory. 
 These as abstractions it amplified in fine full-breathed 
 chords that swept the spirit up and up as on the waves 
 of a mighty organ. Then one by one the voices of 
 other things were heard, the tinkling of laughter, the 
 roar of a city, the sob of a grief, a cry of pain suddenly 
 shooting across the sound, the clank of a machine, the 
 tumult of a river, the puff of a steamboat, the murmur- 
 ing of a vast crowd, and one by one, without seem- 
 ing in the least to change their character, they merged 
 imperceptibly into, and were part of the grand- 
 breathed chords, so that at last all the fames and ambi- 
 tions and passions of the world came, in their apoth- 
 eosis, to be only parts of the master-passion of them 
 all 
 
 And while the echoes of the greater glory still swept 
 beneath thir uplifted souls like ebbing waves, so that 
 they still sat rigid and staring with the majesty of it, 
 the violin softly began to whisper. Beautiful it was as 
 a spirit, beautiful beyond words, beautiful beyond 
 thought. Its beauty struck sharp at the heart. And 
 they two sat there hand in hand dreaming dreaming 
 dreaming 
 
 At last the poignant ecstasy seemed slowly, slowly 
 to die. Fainter and fainter ebbed the music. Through 
 it as through a mist the solemn aloof forest began to 
 show to the consciousness of the two. They sought 
 each other's eyes gently smiling. The music was very 
 soft and dim and sad. They leaned to each other with 
 a sob. Their lips met. The music ceased. 
 
 Alone in the forest side by side they looked out to-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 299 
 
 gether for a moment into that eternal vision which 
 lovers only are permitted to see. The shadows fell. 
 About them brooded the inscrutable pines stretching 
 a canopy over them enthroned. A single last shaft 
 of the sun struck full upon them, a single light-spot 
 in the gathering gloom. They were beautiful. 
 
 And over behind the trees, out of the light and the 
 love and the beauty, little Phil huddled, his great 
 shaggy head bowed in his arms. Beside him lay his 
 violin, and beside that his bow, broken. He had 
 snapped it across his knee. That day he had heard 
 at last the Heart Song of the Violin, and uttering it, 
 had bestowed love. But in accordance with his proph- 
 ecy he had that day lost what he cared for most in all 
 the world, his friend.
 
 Chapter XLIII 
 
 rHAT was the moon of delight. The days 
 passed through the hazy forest like stately fig- 
 ures from an old masque. In the pine grove 
 on the knoll the man and the woman had erected a 
 temple to love, and love showed them one to the other. 
 In Hilda Farrand was no guile, no coquetry, no de- 
 ceit. So perfect was her naturalism that often by those 
 who knew her least she was considered affected. Her 
 trust in whomever she found herself with attained so 
 directly its reward ; her unconsciousness of pose was 
 so rhythmically graceful; her ignorance and innocence 
 so triumphantly effective, that the mind with difficulty 
 rid itself of the belief that it was all carefully studied. 
 This was not true. She honestly did not know that 
 she was beautiful ; was unaware of her grace ; did not 
 realize the potency of her wealth. 
 
 This absolute lack of self-consciousness was most 
 potent in overcoming Thorpe's natural reticence. He 
 expanded to her. She came to idolize him in a man- 
 ner at once inspiring and touching in so beautiful a 
 creature. In him she saw reflected all the lofty at- 
 tractions of character which she herself possessed, but 
 of which she was entirely unaware. Through his 
 words she saw to an ideal. His most trivial actions 
 were ascribed to motives of a dignity which would 
 have been ridiculous, if it had not been a little pathetic. 
 The woods-life, the striving of the pioneer kindled her 
 imagination. She seized upon the great facts of them 
 and fitted those facts with reasons of her own. Her 
 insight perceived the adventurous spirit, the battle- 
 
 300
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 301 
 
 courage, the indomitable steadfastness which always 
 in reality lie back of these men of the frontier to urge 
 them into the life ; and of them constructed conscious 
 motives of conduct. To her fancy the lumbermen, of 
 whom Thorpe was one, were self-conscious agents of 
 advance. They chose hardship, loneliness, the stren- 
 uous life because they wished to clear the way for a 
 higher civilization. To her it seemed a great and 
 noble sacrifice. She did not perceive that while all 
 this is true, it is under the surface, the real spur is a 
 desire to get on, and a hope of making money. For, 
 strangely enough, she differentiated sharply the life 
 and the reasons for it. An existence in subduing the 
 forest was to her ideal; the making of a fortune 
 through a lumbering firm she did not consider in the 
 least important. That this distinction was most po- 
 tent, the sequel will show. 
 
 In all of it she was absolutely sincere, and not at all 
 stupid. She had always had all she could spend, with- 
 out question. Money meant nothing to her, one way 
 or the other. If need was, she might have experi- 
 enced some difficulty in learning how to economize, 
 but none at all in adjusting herself to the necessity of 
 it. The material had become, in all sincerity, a basis 
 for the spiritual. She recognized but two sorts of mo- 
 tives ; of which the ideal, comprising the poetic, the 
 daring, the beautiful, were good; and the material, 
 meaning the sordid and selfish, were bad. With her 
 the mere money-getting would have to be allied with 
 some great and poetic excuse. 
 
 That is the only sort of aristocracy, in the popular 
 sense of the word, which is real; the only scorn of 
 money which can be respected. 
 
 There are some faces which symbolize to the be- 
 holder many subtleties of soul-beauty which bj no 
 other method could gain expression. Those subtle- 
 ties may not, probably do not, exist in the possessor
 
 302 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 of the face. The power of such a countenance lies 
 not so much in what it actually represents, as in the 
 suggestion it holds out to another. So often it is with 
 a beautiful character. Analyze it carefully, and you 
 will reduce it generally to absolute simplicity and ab- 
 solute purity two elements common enough in adul- 
 teration ; but place it face to face with a more complex 
 personality, and mirror-like it will take on a hundred 
 delicate shades of ethical beauty, while at the same 
 time preserving its own lofty spirituality. 
 
 Thus Hilda Farrand reflected Thorpe. In the clear 
 mirror of her heart his image rested transfigured. It 
 was as though the glass were magic, so that the gross 
 and material was absorbed and lost, while the more 
 spiritual qualities reflected back. So the image was 
 retained in its entirety, but etherealized, refined. It 
 is necessary to attempt, even thus faintly and inade- 
 quately, a sketch of Hilda's love, for a partial under- 
 standing of it is necessary to the comprehension of 
 what followed the moon of delight. 
 
 That moon saw a variety of changes. 
 
 The bed of French Creek was cleared. Three of the 
 roads were finished, and the last begun. So much for 
 the work of it. 
 
 Morton and Gary shot four deer between them, 
 which \ras unpardonably against the law, caught fish 
 in plenty, smoked two and a half pounds of tobacco, 
 and read half of one novel. Mrs. Gary and Miss Car- 
 penter walked a total of over a hundred miles, bought 
 twelve pounds of Indian work of all sorts, embroidered 
 the circle of two embroidery frames, learned to paddle 
 a birch-bark canoe, picked fifteen quarts of berries, and 
 gained six pounds in weight. All the party together 
 accomplished five picnics, four explorations, and thirty 
 excellent campfires in the evening. So much for the 
 fun of it. 
 
 Little Phil disappeared utterly, taking with him his
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 303 
 
 violin, but leaving his broken bow. Thorpe has it 
 even to this day. The lumberman caused search and 
 inquiry on all sides. The cripple was never heard of 
 again. He had lived his brief hour, taken his subtle 
 artist's vengeance of misplayed notes on the crude ap- 
 preciation of men too coarse-fibered to recognize it, 
 brought together by the might of sacrifice and con- 
 summate genius two hearts on the brink of misunder- 
 standing ; now there was no further need for him, 
 he had gone. So much for the tragedy of it. 
 
 " I saw you long ago," said Hilda to Thorpe. 
 " Long, long ago, when I was quite a young girl. I 
 had been visiting in Detroit, and was on my way all 
 alone to catch an early train. You stood on the cor- 
 ner thinking, tall and straight and brown, with a 
 weatherbeaten old hat and a weatherbeaten old coat 
 and weatherbeaten old moccasins, and such a proud, 
 clear, undaunted look on your face. I 1 ive remem- 
 bered you ever since." 
 
 And then he told her of the race to the Land Office, 
 while her eyes grew brighter and brighter with the 
 epic splendor of the story. She told him that she had 
 loved him from that moment and believed her tell- 
 ing; while he, the unsentimental leader of men, per- 
 suaded himself and her that he had always in some 
 mysterious manner carried her image prophetically in 
 his heart. So much for the love of it. 
 
 In the last days of the month of delight Thorpe re- 
 ceived a second letter from his partner, which to some 
 extent awakened him to the realities. 
 
 " My dear Harry," it ran. " I have made a startling 
 discovery. The other fellow is Morrison. I have 
 been a blind, stupid dolt, and am caught nicely. You 
 can't call me any more names than I have already 
 called myself. Morrison has been in it from the start. 
 By an accident I learned he was behind the fellow who 
 induced me to invest, and it is he who has been ham-
 
 304 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 mering the stock down ever since. They couldn't lick 
 you at your game, so they tackled me at mine. I'm 
 not the man you are, Harry, and I've made a mess of 
 it. Of course their scheme is plain enough on the 
 face of it. They're going to involve me so deeply that 
 I will drag the firm down with me. 
 
 " If you can fix it to meet those notes, they can't 
 do it. I have ample margin to cover any more de- 
 clines they may be able to bring about. Don't fret 
 about that. Just as sure as you can pay that sixty 
 thousand, just so sure we'll be ahead of the game at 
 this time next year. For God's sake get a move on 
 you, old man. If you don't good Lord ! The firm'll 
 bust because she can't pay; I'll bust because I'll have 
 to let my stock go on margins it'll be an awful 
 smash. But you'll get there, so we needn't worry. I've 
 been an awful fool, and I've no right to do the getting 
 into trouble and leave you to the hard work of getting 
 out again. But as partner I'm going to insist on your 
 having a salary etc." 
 
 The news aroused all Thorpe's martial spirit. Now 
 at last the mystery surrounding Morrison & Daly's 
 unnatural complaisance was riven. It had come to 
 grapples again. He was glad of it. Meet those notes ? 
 Well I guess so! He'd show them what sort of a 
 proposition they had tackled. Sneaking, underhanded 
 scoundrels! taking advantage of a mere boy. Meet 
 those notes? You bet he would; and then he'd go 
 down there and boost those stocks until M. & D 
 looked like a last year's bird's nest. He thrust the 
 letter in his pocket and walked buoyantly to the pines. 
 
 The two lovers sat there all the afternoon drinking 
 in half sadly the joy of the forest and of being near 
 each other, for the moon of delight was almost done. 
 In a week the camping party would be breaking up, 
 and Hilda must return to the city. It was uncertain 
 when they would be able to see each other again,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 305 
 
 though there was talk of getting up a whiter party to 
 visit Camp One in January. The affair would be 
 unique. 
 
 Suddenly the girl broke off and put her fingers to 
 her lips. For some time, dimly, an intermittent and 
 faint sound had been felt, rather than actually heard, 
 like the irregular muffled beating of a heart. Gradu- 
 ally it had insisted on the attention. Now at last it 
 broke through the film of consciousness. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. 
 
 Thorpe listened. Then his face lit mightily with the 
 joy of battle. 
 
 " My axmen," he cried. " They are cutting the 
 road." 
 
 A faint call echoed. Then without warning, nearer 
 at hand the sharp ring of an ax sounded through the 
 forest
 
 THE 
 
 BLAZED 
 TRAIL 
 
 r ' , , 
 
 Part V 
 The Following of the Trail 
 
 r r
 
 Chapter XLIV 
 
 M . lOR a moment they sat listening to the cleat 
 
 rj staccato knocking of the distant blows, and the 
 
 JL more forceful thuds of the man nearer at hand. 
 
 A bird or so darted from the direction of the sound 
 
 and shot silently into the thicket behind them. 
 
 "What are they doing? Are they cutting lum- 
 ber?" asked Hilda. 
 
 " No," answered Thorpe, " we do not cut saw logs 
 at this time of year. They are clearing out a road." 
 
 " Where does it go to ? " 
 
 " Well, nowhere in particular. That is, it is a log- 
 ging road that starts at the river and wanders up 
 through the woods where the pine is." 
 
 " How clear the axes sound. Can't we go down and 
 watch them a little while ? " 
 
 " The main gang is a long distance away ; sound 
 carries very clearly in this still air. As for that fellow 
 you hear so plainly, he is only clearing out small stuff 
 to get ready for the others. You wouldn't see any- 
 thing different from your Indian chopping the cord- 
 wood for your camp fire. He won't chop out any big 
 trees." 
 
 " Let's not go, then," said Hilda submissively. 
 
 " When you come up in the winter," he pursued^ 
 " you will see any amount of big timber felled." 
 
 " I would like to know more about it," she sighed, 
 a quaint little air of childish petulance gravin^ two 
 lines between her eyebrows. " Do you know, Harry, 
 you are a singularly uncommunicative sort of being, 
 I have to guess that your life is interesting and pio 
 
 309
 
 310 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 turesque, that is," she amended, " I should have to 
 do so if Wallace Carpenter had not told me a little 
 something about it. Sometimes I think you are not 
 nearly poet enough for the life you are living. Why, 
 you are wonderful, you men of the north, and you let 
 us ordinary mortals who have not the gift of divina- 
 tion imagine you entirely occupied with how many 
 pounds of iron chain you are going to need during the 
 winter." She said these things lightly as one who 
 speaks things not for serious belief. 
 
 " It is something that way," he agreed with a laugh. 
 
 " Do you know, sir," she persisted, " that I really 
 don't know anything at all about the life you lead here ? 
 From what I have seen, you might be perpetually oc- 
 cupied in eating things in a log cabin, and in disappear- 
 ing to perform some mysterious rites in the forest." 
 She looked at him with a smiling mouth but tender 
 eyes, her head tilted back slightly. 
 
 " It's a good deal that way, too," he agreed again. 
 " We use a barrel of flour in Camp One every two and 
 a half days ! " 
 
 She shook her head in a faint negation that only 
 half understood what he was saying, her whole heart 
 in her tender gaze. 
 
 " Sit there," she breathed very softly, pointing to the 
 dried needles on which her feet rested, but without 
 altering the position of her head or the steadfastness 
 of her look. 
 
 He obeyed. 
 
 "Now tell me," she breathed, still in the fascinated 
 monotone. 
 
 "What? "he inquired. 
 
 " Your life ; what you do ; all about it. You must 
 tell me a story." 
 
 Thorpe settled himself more lazily, and laughed with 
 quiet enjoyment. Never had he felt the expansion of 
 a similar mood. The barrier between himself and self-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 31! 
 
 expression had faded, leaving not the smallest debris 
 of the old stubborn feeling. 
 
 " The story of the woods," he began, " the story of 
 the saw log. It would take a bigger man than I to 
 tell it. I doubt if any one man ever would be big 
 enough. It is a drama, a struggle, a battle. Those 
 men you hear there are only the skirmishers extend- 
 ing the firing line. We are fighting always with 
 Time. I'll have to hurry now to get those roads done 
 and a certain creek cleared before the snow. Then 
 we'll have to keep on the keen move to finish our cut- 
 ting before the deep snow ; to haul our logs before the 
 spring thaws ; to float them down the river while the 
 freshet water lasts. When we gain a day we have 
 scored a victory; when the wilderness puts us back 
 an hour, we have suffered a defeat. Our ammunition 
 is Time; our small shot the minutes, our heavy ord- 
 nance the hours ! " 
 
 The girl placed her hand on his shoulder. He cov- 
 ered it with his own. 
 
 " But we win ! " he cried. " We win ! " 
 
 " That is what I like," she said softly, " the strong 
 spirit that wins ! " She hesitated, then went on gently, 
 " But the battlefields, Harry ; to me they are dreadful. 
 I went walking yesterday morning, before you came 
 over, and after a while I found myself in the most 
 awful place. The stumps of trees, the dead branches, 
 the trunks lying all about, and the glaring hot sun over 
 everything ! Harry, there was not a single bird in all 
 that waste, a single green thing. You don't know how 
 it affected me so early in the morning. I saw just one 
 lonesome pine tree that had been left for some reason 
 or another, standing there like a sentinel. I could 
 shut my eyes and see all the others standing, and al- 
 most hear the birds singing and the wind in the 
 branches, just as it is here." She seized his fingers in 
 her other hand. " Harry," she said earnestly, " I don't
 
 312 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 believe I can ever forget that experience, any more 
 than I could have forgotten a battlefield, were I to see 
 one. I can shut my eyes now, and can see this place, 
 our dear little wooded knoll wasted and blackened as 
 that was." 
 
 The man twisted his shoulder uneasily and withdrew 
 his hand. 
 
 " Harry," she said again, after a pause, " you must 
 promise to leave this woods until the very last. I 
 suppose it must all be cut down some day, but I do not 
 want to be here to see after it is all over." 
 
 Thorpe remained silent. 
 
 " Men do not care much for keepsakes, do they, 
 Harry? they don't save letters and flowers as we 
 girls do but even a man can feel the value of a great 
 beautiful keepsake such as this, can't he, dear? Our 
 meeting-place do you remember how I found you 
 down there by the old pole trail, staring as though you 
 had seen a ghost? and that beautiful, beautiful 
 music ! It must always be our most sacred memory. 
 Promise me you will save it until the very, very 
 last." 
 
 Thorpe said nothing because he could not rally his 
 faculties. The sentimental association connected with 
 the grove had actually never occurred to him. His 
 keepsakes were impressions which he carefully guard- 
 ed in his memory. To the natural masculine indiffer- 
 ence toward material bits of sentiment he had added 
 the instinct of the strictly portable early developed in 
 the rover. He had never even possessed a photograph 
 of his sister. Now this sudden discovery that such 
 things might be part of the woof of another person's 
 spiritual garment came to him ready-grown to the 
 proportions of a problem. 
 
 In selecting the districts for the season's cut, he had 
 included in his estimates this very grove. Since then 
 he had seen no reason for changing his decision. The
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 313 
 
 operations would not commence until winter. By 
 that time the lovers would no longer care to use it as 
 at present. Now rapidly he passed in review a dozen 
 expedients by which his plan might be modified to 
 permit of the grove's exclusion. His practical mind 
 discovered flaws in every one. Other bodies of timber 
 promising a return of ten thousand dollars were not 
 to be found near the river, and time now lacked for 
 the cutting of roads to more distant forties. 
 
 " Hilda," he broke in abruptly at last, " the men you 
 hear are clearing a road to this very timber." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked. 
 
 " This timber is marked for cutting this very win- 
 ter." 
 
 She had not a suspicion of the true state of affairs. 
 " Isn't it lucky I spoke of it ! " she exclaimed. " How 
 could you have forgotten to countermand the order 1 
 You must see to it to-day ; now ! " 
 
 She sprang up impulsively and stood waiting for 
 him. He arose more slowly. Even before he spoke 
 her eyes dilated with the shock from her quick intui- 
 tions. 
 
 " Hilda, I cannot," he said. 
 
 She stood very still for some seconds. 
 
 " Why not ? " she asked quietly. 
 
 " Because I have not time to cut a road through to 
 another bunch of pine. It is this or nothing." 
 
 " Why not nothing, then ? " 
 
 " I want the money this will bring." 
 
 His choice of a verb was unfortunate. The employ- 
 ment of that one little word opened the girl's mind to 
 a flood of old suspicions which the frank charm of the 
 northland had thrust outside. Hilda Farrand was an 
 heiress and a beautiful girl. She had been constantly 
 reminded of the one fact by the attempts of men to use 
 flattery of the other as a key to her heart and her fort- 
 une. From early girlhood she had been sought by the
 
 314 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 brilliant impecunious of two continents. The con- 
 tinued experience had varnished her self-esteem with 
 a glaze of cynicism sufficiently consistent to protect it 
 against any but the strongest attack. She believed in 
 no man's protestations. She distrusted every man's 
 motives as far as herself was concerned. This attitude 
 of mind was not unbecoming in her for the simple 
 reason that it destroyed none of her graciousness as 
 regards other human relations besides that of love. 
 That men should seek her in matrimony from a selfish 
 motive was as much to be expected as that flies should 
 seek the sugar bowl. She accepted the fact as one of 
 nature's laws, annoying enough but inevitable ; a 
 thing to guard against, but not one of sufficient mo- 
 ment to grieve over. 
 
 With Thorpe, however, her suspicions had been 
 lulled. There is something virile and genuine about 
 the woods and the men who inhabit them that strongly 
 predisposes the mind to accept as proved in their en- 
 tirety all the other virtues. Hilda had fallen into this 
 state of mind. She endowed each of the men whom 
 she encountered with all the robust qualities she had 
 no difficulty in recognizing as part of nature's charm 
 in the wilderness. Now at a word her eyes were 
 opened to what she had done. She saw that she had 
 assumed unquestioningly that her lover possessed the 
 qualities of his environment. 
 
 Not for a moment did she doubt the reality of her 
 love. She had conceived one of those deep, uplifting 
 passions possible only to a young girl. But her cyni- 
 cal experience warned her that the reality of that pas- 
 sion's object was not proven by any test besides the 
 fallible one of her own poetizing imagination. The 
 reality of the ideal she had constructed might be a van- 
 ishable quantity even though the love of it was not. 
 So to the interview that ensued she brought, not the 
 partiality of a loving heart, nor even the impartiality
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 315 
 
 of one sitting in judgment, but rather the perverted 
 prejudice of one who actually fears the truth. 
 
 "Will you tell me for what you want the money ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 The young man caught the note of distrust. At 
 once, instinctively, his own confidence vanished. He 
 drew within himself, again beyond the power of justify- 
 ing himself with the needed word. 
 
 " The firm needs it in the business," said he. 
 
 Her next question countered instantaneously. 
 
 " Does the firm need the money more than you do 
 me?" 
 
 They stared at each other in the silence of the situa- 
 tion that had so suddenly developed. It had come 
 into being without their volition, as a dust cloud 
 springs up on a plain. 
 
 " You do not mean that, Hilda," said Thorpe quietly. 
 " It hardly comes to that." 
 
 " Indeed it does," she replied, every nerve of her fine 
 organization strung to excitement. " I should be 
 more to you than any firm." 
 
 " Sometimes it is necessary to look after the bread 
 and butter," Thorpe reminded her gently, although he 
 knew that was not the real reason at all. 
 
 " If your firm can't supply it, I can," she answered. 
 " It seems strange that you won't grant my first re- 
 quest of you, merely because of a little money." 
 
 " It isn't a little money," he objected, catching man- 
 like at the practical question. " You don't realize what 
 an amount a clump of pine like this stands for. Just 
 in saw logs, before it is made into lumber, it will be 
 worth about thirty thousand dollars, of course 
 there's the expense of logging to pay out of that," he 
 added, out of his accurate business conservatism, " but 
 there's ten thousand dollars' profit in it." 
 
 The girl, exasperated by cold details at such a time, 
 blazed out. " I never heard anything so ridiculous in
 
 316 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 my life ! " she cried. " Either you are not at all the 
 man I thought you, or you nave some better reason 
 than you have given. Tell me, Harry ; tell me at once. 
 You don't know what you are doing." 
 
 " The firm needs it, Hilda," said Thorpe, " in ordet 
 to succeed. If we do not cut this pine, we may 
 fail." 
 
 In that he stated his religion. The duty of success 
 was to him one of the loftiest of abstractions, for it 
 measured the degree of a man's efficiency in the sta- 
 tion to which God had called him. The money, as 
 such, was nothing to him. 
 
 Unfortunately the girl had learned a different lan- 
 guage. She knew nothing of the hardships, the strug- 
 gles, the delight of winning for the sake of victory 
 rather than the sake of spoils. To her, success meant 
 getting a lot of money. The name by which Thorpe 
 labelled his most sacred principle, to her represented 
 something base and sordid. She had more money 
 herself than she knew. It hurt her to the soul that 
 the condition of a small money-making machine, as 
 she considered the lumber firm, should be weighed 
 even for an instant against her love. It was a great 
 deal Thorpe's fault that she so saw the firm. He might 
 easily have shown her the great forces and principles 
 for which it stood. 
 
 " If I were a man," she said, and her voice was tense, 
 " if I were a man and loved a woman, I would be ready 
 to give up everything for her. My riches, my pride, 
 my life, my honor, my soul even, they would be as 
 nothing, as less than nothing to me, if I loved. 
 Harry, don't let me think I am mistaken. Let this 
 miserable firm of yours fail, if fail it must for lack of 
 my poor little temple of dreams," she held out her 
 hands with a tender gesture of appeal. The affair had 
 gone beyond the preservation of a few trees. It had 
 become the question of an ideal. Gradually, in spite
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 317 
 
 of herself, the conviction was forcing itself upon her 
 that the man she had loved was no different from the 
 rest ; that the greed of the dollar had corrupted him 
 too. By the mere yielding to her wishes, she wanted 
 to prove the suspicion wrong. 
 
 Now the strange part of the whole situation was, 
 that in two words Thorpe could have cleared it. If he 
 had explained that he needed the ten thousand dollars 
 to help pay a note given to save from ruin a foolish 
 friend, he would have supplied to the affair just the 
 higher motive the girl's clear spirituality demanded. 
 Then she would have shared enthusiastically in the 
 sacrifice, and been the more loving and repentant from 
 her momentary doubt. All she needed was that the 
 man should prove himself actuated by a noble, instead 
 of a sordid, motive. The young man did not say the 
 two words, because in all honesty he thought them un- 
 important. It seemed to him quite natural that he 
 should go on Wallace Carpenter's note. That fact 
 altered not a bit the main necessity of success. It was 
 a man's duty to make the best of himself, it was 
 Thorpe's duty to prove himself supremely efficient in 
 his chosen calling ; the mere coincidence that his part- 
 ner's troubles worked along the same lines meant 
 nothing to the logic of the situation. In stating baldly 
 that he needed the money to assure the firm's exist- 
 ence, he imagined he had adduced the strongest possi- 
 ble reason for his attitude. If the girl was not influ- 
 enced by that, the case was hopeless. 
 
 It was the difference of training rather than the dif- 
 ference of ideas. Both clung to unselfishness as the 
 highest reason for human action ; but each expressed 
 the thought in a manner incomprehensible to the 
 other. 
 
 " I cannot, Hilda," he answered steadily. 
 
 " You sell me for ten thousand dollars ! I cannot 
 believe it 1 Harry ! Harry ! Must I put it to you as
 
 318 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 a choice? Don't you love me enough to spare me 
 that?" 
 
 He did not reply. As long as it remained a dilem- 
 ma, he would not reply. He was in the right. 
 
 " Do you need the money more than you do me ? 
 more than you do love ? " she begged, her soul in her 
 eyes ; for she was begging also for herself. " Think, 
 Harry ; it is the last chance ! " 
 
 Once more he was face to face with a vital decision. 
 To his surprise he discovered in his mind no doubt 
 as to what the answer should be. He experienced no 
 conflict of mind ; no hesitation ; for the moment, no 
 regret. During all his woods life he had been follow- 
 ing diligently the trail he had blazed for his conduct. 
 Now his feet carried him unconsciously to the same 
 end. There was no other way out. In the winter of 
 his trouble the clipped trees alone guided him, and at 
 the end of them he found his decision. It is in crises 
 of this sort, when a little reflection or consideration 
 would do wonders to prevent a catastrophe, that all 
 the forgotten deeds, decisions, principles, and thoughts 
 of a man's past life combine solidly into the walls of 
 fatality, so that in spite of himself he finds he must 
 act in accordance with them. In answer to Hilda's 
 question he merely inclined his head. 
 
 " I have seen a vision," said she simply, and lowered 
 her head to conceal her eyes. Then she looked at him 
 again. " There can be nothing better than love," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, one thing," said Thorpe, " the duty of suc- 
 cess." 
 
 The man had stated his creed; the woman hers. 
 The one is born perfect enough for love; the other 
 must work, must attain the completeness of a fulfilled 
 function, must succeed, to deserve it. 
 
 She left him then, and did not see him again. Four 
 days later the camping party left. Thorpe sent Tim
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 3*9 
 
 Shearer over, as his most efficient man, to see that they 
 got off without difficulty, but himself retired on some 
 excuse to Camp Four. Three weeks gone in October 
 he received a marked newspaper announcing the en- 
 gagement of Miss Hilda Farrand to Mr. Hildreth 
 Morton of Chicago. 
 
 He had burned his ships, and stood now on an un- 
 friendly shore. The first sacrifice to his jealous god 
 had been consummated, and now, live or die, he stood 
 pledged to win his fight.
 
 Chapter XLV 
 
 W "f .^INTER set in early and continued late; 
 l/j/ which in the end was a good thing for the 
 r r year's cut. The season was capricious, 
 
 hanging for days at a time at the brink of a thaw, only to 
 stiffen again into severe weather. This was trying on 
 the nerves. For at each of these false alarms the six 
 camps fell into a feverish haste to get the job finished 
 before the break-up. It was really quite extraordinary 
 how much was accomplished under the nagging spur 
 of weather conditions and the cruel rowelling of 
 Thorpe. 
 
 The latter had now no thought beyond his work, 
 and that was the thought of a madman. He had been 
 stern and unyielding enough before, goodness knows, 
 but now he was terrible. His restless energy perme- 
 ated every molecule in the economic structure over 
 which he presided, roused it to intense vibration. Not 
 for an instant was there a resting spell. The veriest 
 chore-boy talked, thought, dreamed of nothing but saw 
 logs. Men whispered vaguely of a record cut. Team- 
 sters looked upon their success or failure to keep near 
 the top on the day's haul as a signal victory or a dis- 
 graceful defeat. The difficulties of snow, accident, 
 topography which an ever-watchful nature threw 
 down before the rolling car of this industry, were 
 swept aside like straws. Little time was wasted and 
 no opportunities. It did not matter how smoothly 
 affairs happened to be running for the moment, every 
 advantage, even the smallest, was eagerly seized to 
 advance the work. A drop of five degrees during 
 
 320
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 321 
 
 the frequent warm spells brought out the sprinklers, 
 even in dead of night ; an accident was white-hot in 
 the forge almost before the crack of the iron had ceased 
 to echo. At night the men fell into their bunks like 
 sandbags, and their last conscious thought, if indeed 
 they had any at all, was of eagerness for the morrow 
 in order that they might push the grand total up an- 
 other notch. It was madness ; but it was the madness 
 these men loved. 
 
 For now to his old religion Thorpe had added a fa- 
 naticism, and over the fanaticism was gradually creep- 
 ing a film of doubt. To the conscientious energy 
 which a sense of duty supplied, was added the tremen- 
 dous kinetic force of a love turned into other channels. 
 And in the wild nights while the other men slept, 
 Thorpe's half-crazed brain was revolving over and 
 over again the words of the sentence he had heard from 
 Hilda's lips : "There can be nothing better than love." 
 
 His actions, his mind, his very soul vehemently de- 
 nied the proposition. He clung as ever to his high 
 Puritanic idea of man's purpose. But down deep in a 
 very tiny, sacred corner of his heart a very small voice 
 sometimes made itself heard when other, more militant 
 voices were still : " It may be ; it may be ! " 
 
 The influence of this voice was practically nothing. 
 It made itself heard occasionally. Perhaps even, for 
 the time being, its weight counted on the other side 
 of the scale ; for Thorpe took pains to deny it fiercely, 
 both directly and indirectly by increased exertions. 
 But it persisted ; and once in a moon or so, when the 
 conditions were quite favorable, it attained for an in- 
 stant a shred of belief. 
 
 Probably never since the Puritan days of New Eng- 
 land has a community lived as sternly as did that win- 
 ter of 1888 the six camps under Thorpe's management. 
 There was something a little inspiring about it. The 
 men fronted their daily work with the same grim-faced,
 
 322 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 clear-eyed steadiness of veterans going into battle; 
 with the same confidence, the same sure patience that 
 disposes effectively of one thing before going on to the 
 next. There was little merely excitable bustle ; there 
 was no rest. Nothing could stand against such a spirit. 
 Nothing did. The skirmishers which the wilderness 
 threw out, were brushed away. Even the inevitable 
 delays seemed not so much stoppages as the instant's 
 pause of a heavy vehicle in a snow drift, succeeded by 
 the momentary acceleration as the plunge carried it 
 through. In the main, and by large, the machine 
 moved steadily and inexorably. 
 
 And yet one possessed of the finer spiritual intui- 
 tions could not have shaken off the belief in an impend- 
 ing struggle. The feel of it was in the air. Nature's 
 forces were too mighty to be so slightly overcome ; the 
 splendid energy developed in these camps too vast to 
 be wasted on facile success. Over against each other 
 were two great powers, alike in their calm confidence, 
 animated with the loftiest and most dignified spirit of 
 enmity. Slowly they were moving toward each other. 
 The air was surcharged with the electricity of their op- 
 position. Just how the struggle would begin was un- 
 certain ; but its inevitability was as assured as its mag- 
 nitude. Thorpe knew it, and shut his teeth, looking 
 keenly about him. The Fighting Forty knew it, and 
 longed for the grapple to come. The other camps 
 knew it, and followed their leader with perfect trust. 
 The affair was an epitome of the historic combats be- 
 gun with David and Goliath. It was an affair of 
 Titans. The little courageous men watched their en- 
 emy with cat's eyes. 
 
 The last month of hauling was also one of snow. 
 In this condition were few severe storms, but each day 
 a little fell. By and by the accumulation amounted to 
 much. In the woods where the wind could not get 
 at it, it lay deep and soft above the tops of bushes. The
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 323 
 
 grouse ate browse from the slender hardwood tips like 
 a lot of goldfinches, or precipitated themselves head- 
 long down through five feet of snow to reach the 
 ground. Often Thorpe would come across the irregu- 
 lar holes of their entrance. Then if he took the trou- 
 ble to stamp about a little in the vicinity with his snow- 
 shoes, the bird would spring unexpectedly from the 
 clear snow, scattering a cloud with its strong wings. 
 The deer, herded together, tramped " yards " where 
 the feed was good. Between the yards ran narrow 
 trails. When the animals went from one yard to an- 
 other in these trails, their ears and antlers alone were 
 visible. On either side of the logging roads the snow 
 piled so high as to form a kind of rampart. When all 
 this water in suspense should begin to flow, and to 
 seek its level in the water-courses of the district, the 
 logs would have plenty to float them, at least. 
 
 So late did the cold weather last that, even with the 
 added plowing to do, the six camps beat all records. 
 On the banks at Camp One were nine million feet; 
 the totals of all five amounted to thirty-three million. 
 About ten million of this was on French Creek ; the 
 remainder on the main banks of the Ossawinamakee. 
 Besides this the firm up-river, Sadler & Smith, had put 
 up some twelve million more. The drive promised to 
 be quite an affair. 
 
 About the fifteenth of April attention became 
 strained. Every day the mounting sun made heavy 
 attacks on the snow: every night the temperature 
 dropped below the freezing point. The river began to 
 show more air holes, occasional open places. About 
 the center the ice looked worn and soggy. Someone 
 saw a flock of geese high in the air. Then came rain. 
 
 One morning early, Long Pine Jim came into the 
 men's camp bearing a huge chunk of tallow. This he 
 held against the hot stove until its surface had soft- 
 ened, when he began to swab liberal quantities of
 
 324 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 grease on his spiked river shoes, which he fished out 
 from under his bunk. 
 
 " She's comin', boys," said he. 
 
 He donned a pair of woolen trousers that had been 
 chopped off at the knee, thick woolen stockings, and 
 the river shoes. Then he tightened his broad leather 
 belt about his heavy shirt, cocked his little hat over his 
 ear, and walked over in the corner to select a peavey 
 from the lot the blacksmith had just put in shape. A 
 peavey is like a cant-hook except that it is pointed 
 at the end. Thus it can be used either as a hook or a 
 pike. At the same moment Shearer, similarly attired 
 and equipped, appeared in the doorway. The opening 
 of the portal admitted a roar of sound. The river was 
 rising. 
 
 " Come on, boys, she's on ! " said he sharply. 
 
 Outside, the cook and cookee were stowing articles 
 in the already loaded wanigan. The scow contained 
 tents, blankets, provisions, and a portable stove. It 
 followed the drive, and made a camp wherever expedi- 
 ency demanded. 
 
 " Lively, boys, lively ! " shouted Thorpe. " She'll be 
 down on us before we know it ! " 
 
 Above the soft creaking of dead branches in the wind 
 sounded a steady roar, like the bellowing of a wild 
 beast lashing itself to fury. The freshet was abroad, 
 forceful with the strength of a whole winter's accumu- 
 lated energy. 
 
 The men heard it and their eyes brightened with tke 
 lust of battle. They cheered.
 
 Chapter XLVI 
 
 >^T the banks of the river, Thorpe rapidly issued 
 
 jLt his directions. The affair had been all pre- 
 ^ i arranged. During the week previous he and 
 his foremen had reviewed the situation, examining the 
 state of the ice, the heads of water in the three dams. 
 Immediately above the first rollways was Dam Three 
 with its two wide sluices through which a veritable 
 flood could be loosened at will ; then four miles farther 
 lay the rollways of Sadler & Smith, the up-river firm ; 
 and above them tumbled over a forty-five foot ledge 
 the beautiful Siscoe Falls; these first rollways of 
 Thorpe's spread in the broad marsh flat below the 
 dam contained about eight millions ; the rest of the 
 season's cut was scattered for thirty miles along the 
 bed of the river. 
 
 Already the ice cementing the logs together had be- 
 gun to weaken. The ice had wrenched and tugged 
 savagely at the locked timbers until they had, with a 
 mighty effort, snapped asunder the bonds of their 
 hibernation. Now a narrow lane of black rushing 
 water pierced the rollways, to boil and eddy in the con- 
 sequent jam three miles below. 
 
 To the foremen Thorpe assigned their tasks, calling 
 them to him one by one, as a general calls his aids. 
 
 " Moloney," said he to the big Irishman, " take your 
 crew and break that jam. Then scatter your men 
 down to within a mile of the pond at Dam Two, and 
 see that the river runs clear. You can tent for a day 
 or so at West Bend or some other point about half way 
 down ; and after that you had better camp at the dam. 
 
 325
 
 326 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 Just as soon as you get logs enough in the pond, start 
 to sluicing them through the dam. You won't need 
 more than four men there, if you keep a good head. 
 You can keep your gates open five or six hours. And 
 Moloney." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I want you to be careful not to sluice too long. 
 There is a bar just below the dam, and if you try to 
 sluice with the water too low, you'll center and jam 
 there, as sure as shooting." 
 
 Bryan Moloney turned on his heel and began to pick 
 his way down stream over the solidly banked logs. 
 Without waiting the command, a dozen men followed 
 him. The little group bobbed away irregularly into 
 the distance, springing lightly from one timber to the 
 other, holding their quaintly-fashioned peaveys in the 
 manner of a rope dancer's balancing pole. At the 
 lowermost limit of the rollways, each man pried a log 
 into the water, and, standing gracefully erect on this 
 unstable craft, floated out down the current to the 
 icene of his dangerous labor. 
 
 " Kerlie," went on Thorpe, " your crew can break 
 rollways with the rest until we get the river fairly filled, 
 und then you can move on down stream as fast as you 
 are needed. Scotty, you will have the rear. Tim and 
 I will boss the river." 
 
 At once the signal was given to Ellis, the dam 
 watcher. Ellis and his assistants thereupon began to 
 pry with long iron bars at the ratchets of the heavy 
 gates. The chore-boy bent attentively over the 
 ratchet-pin, lifting it delicately to permit another inch 
 of raise, dropping it accurately to enable the men at 
 the bars to seize a fresh purchase. The river's roar 
 deepened. Through the wide sluiceways a torrent 
 foamed and tumbled. Immediately it spread through 
 the brush on either side to the limits of the freshet 
 banks, and then gathered for its leap against the un-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 327 
 
 easy rollways. Along the edge of the dark channel 
 the face of the logs seemed to crumble away. Farther 
 in towards the banks where the weight of timber still 
 outbalanced the weight of the flood, the tiers grumbled 
 and stirred, restless with the stream's calling. Far 
 down the river, where Bryan Moloney and his crew 
 were picking at the jam, the water in eager streamlets 
 sought the interstices between the logs, gurgling ex- 
 citedly like a mountain brook. 
 
 The jam creaked and groaned in response to the 
 ^pressure. From its face a hundred jets of water 
 (spurted into the lower stream. Logs up-ended here 
 land there, rising from the bristling surface slowly, like 
 so many arms from lower depths. Above, the water 
 eddied back foaming; logs shot down from the roll- 
 ways, paused at the slackwater, and finally hit with a 
 hollow and resounding boom! against the tail of the 
 jam. A moment later they too up-ended, so becom- 
 ing an integral part of the chevaux de frise. 
 
 The crew were working desperately. Down in the 
 heap somewhere, two logs were crossed in such a man- 
 ner as to lock the whole. They sought those logs. 
 
 Thirty feet above the bed of the river six men 
 clamped their peaveys into the soft pine ; jerking, pull- 
 ing, lifting, sliding the great logs from their places. 
 Thirty feet below, under the threatening face, six other 
 men coolly picked out and set adrift, one by one, the 
 timbers not inextricably imbedded. From time to 
 time the mass creaked, settled, perhaps even moved 
 a foot or two ; but always the practiced rivermen, after 
 a glance, bent more eagerly to their work. 
 
 Outlined against the sky, big Bryan Moloney stood 
 directing the work. He had gone at the job on the 
 bias of indirection, picking out a passage at either side 
 that the center might the more easily "pull." He knew 
 by the tenseness of the log he stood on that, behind the 
 jam, power had gathered sufficient to push the whole
 
 328 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 tangle down-stream. Now he was offering it the 
 chance. 
 
 Suddenly the six men below the jam scattered. 
 Four of them, holding their peaveys across their bodies, 
 jumped lightly from one floating log to another in the 
 zigzag to shore. When they stepped on a small log 
 they re-leaped immediately, leaving a swirl of foam 
 where the little timber had sunk under them ; when 
 they encountered one larger, they hesitated for a barely 
 perceptible instant. Thus their progression was of 
 fascinating and graceful irregularity. The other two 
 ran the length of their footing, and, overleaping an 
 open of water, landed heavily and firmly on the very 
 ends of two small floating logs. In this manner the 
 force of the jump rushed the little timbers end-on 
 through the water. The two men, maintaining mar- 
 vellously their balance, were thus ferried to within 
 leaping distance of the other shore. 
 
 In the meantime a barely perceptible motion was 
 communicating itself from one particle to another 
 through the center of the jam. A cool and observant 
 spectator might have imagined that the broad timber 
 carpet was changing a little its pattern, just as the 
 earth near the windows of an arrested railroad train 
 seems for a moment to retrogress. The crew re- 
 doubled its exertions, clamping its peaveys here and 
 there, apparently at random, but in reality with the 
 most definite of purposes. A sharp crack exploded im- 
 mediately underneath. There could no longer exist 
 any doubt as to the motion, although it was as yet slug- 
 gish, glacial. Then in silence a log shifted in silence 
 and slowly but with irresistible force. Jimmy 
 Powers quietly stepped over it, just as it menaced his 
 leg. Other logs in all directions up-ended. The jam 
 crew were forced continually to alter their positions, 
 riding the changing timbers bent-kneed, as a circus 
 rider treads his four galloping horses.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 329 
 
 Then all at once down by the face something 
 crashed. The entire stream became alive. It hissed 
 and roared, it shrieked, groaned and grumbled. At 
 first slowly, then more rapidly, the very forefront of 
 the center melted inward and forward and downward 
 until it caught the fierce rush of the freshet and shot 
 out from under the jam. Far up-stream, bristling and 
 formidable, the tons of logs, grinding savagely to- 
 gether, swept forward. 
 
 The six men and Bryan Moloney who, it will be 
 remembered, were on top worked until the last mo- 
 ment. When the logs began to cave under them so 
 rapidly that even the expert rivermen found difficulty 
 in " staying on top," the foreman set the example of 
 hunting safety. 
 
 " She ' pulls,' boys," he yelled. 
 
 Then in a manner wonderful to behold, through the 
 smother of foam and spray, through the crash and yell 
 of timbers protesting the flood's hurrying, through the 
 leap of destruction, the drivers zigzagged calmly and 
 surely to the shore. 
 
 All but Jimmy Powers. He poised tense and eager 
 on the crumbling face of the jam. Almost immediate- 
 ly he saw what he wanted, and without pause sprang 
 boldly and confidently ten feet straight downward, to 
 alight with accuracy on a single log floating free in the 
 current. And then in the very glory and chaos of the 
 jam itself he was swept down-stream. 
 
 After a moment the constant acceleration in speed 
 checked, then commenced perceptibly to slacken. At 
 once the rest of the crew began to ride down-stream. 
 Each struck the caulks of his river boots strongly into 
 a log, and on such unstable vehicles floated miles with 
 the current. From time to time, as Bryan Moloney 
 indicated, one of them went ashore. There, usually at 
 a bend of the stream where the likelihood of jamming 
 was great, they took their stands. When necessary.
 
 330 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 they ran out over the face of the river to separate a 
 congestion likely to cause trouble. The rest of the 
 time they smoked their pipes. 
 
 At noon they ate from little canvas bags which had 
 been filled that morning by the cookee. At sunset 
 they rode other logs down the river to where their 
 camp had been made for them. There they ate hugely, 
 hung their ice-wet garments over a tall framework con- 
 structed around a monster fire, and turned in on hem- 
 lock branches. 
 
 All night long the logs slipped down the moonlit 
 current, silently, swiftly, yet without haste. The por- 
 cupines invaded the sleeping camp. From the whole 
 length of the river rang the hollow boom, boom, boom, 
 of timbers striking one against the other. 
 
 The drive was on.
 
 Chapter XL VII 
 
 /N the meantime the main body of the crew under 
 Thorpe and his foremen were briskly tumbling the 
 logs into the current. Sometimes under the urg- 
 ing of the peaveys, but a single stick would slide down ; 
 or again a double tier would cascade with the roar of 
 a little Niagara. The men had continually to keep on 
 the tension of an alert, for at any moment they were 
 called upon to exercise their best judgment and quick- 
 ness to keep from being carried downward with the 
 rush of the logs. Not infrequently a frowning sheer 
 wall of forty feet would hesitate on the brink of plunge. 
 Then Shearer himself proved his right to the title of 
 riverman. 
 
 Shearer wore caulks nearly an inch in length. He 
 had been known to ride ten miles, without shifting his 
 feet, on a log so small that he could carry it without 
 difficulty. For cool nerve he was unexcelled. 
 
 " I don't need you boys here any longer," he said 
 quietly. 
 
 When the men had all withdrawn, he walked confi- 
 dently under the front of the rollway, glancing with 
 practiced eye at the perpendicular wall of logs over 
 him. Then, as a man pries jack-straws, he clamped 
 his peavey and tugged sharply. At once the rollway 
 flattened and toppled. A mighty splash, a hurl of fly- 
 ing foam and crushing timbers, and the spot on which 
 the riverman had stood was buried beneath twenty feet 
 of solid green wood. To Thorpe it seemed that 
 Shearer must have been overwhelmed, but the river- 
 man always mysteriously appeared at one side or the 
 
 331
 
 332 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 other, nonchalant, urging the men to work before the 
 logs should have ceased to move. Tradition claimed 
 that only once in a long woods life had Shearer been 
 forced to " take water "before a breaking rollway : and 
 then he saved his peavey. History stated that he had 
 never lost a man on the river, simply and solely because 
 he invariably took the dangerous tasks upon himself. 
 
 As soon as the logs had caught the current, a dozen 
 men urged them on. With their short peaveys, the 
 drivers were enabled to prevent the timbers from 
 swirling in the eddies one of the first causes of a 
 jam. At last, near the foot of the flats, they abandoned 
 them to the stream, confident that Moloney and his 
 crew would see to their passage down the river. 
 
 In three days the rollways were broken. Now it 
 became necessary to start the rear. 
 
 For this purpose Billy Camp, the cook, had loaded 
 his cook-stove, a quantity of provisions, and a supply 
 of bedding, aboard a scow. The scow was built of 
 tremendous hewn timbers, four or five inches thick, to 
 withstand the shock of the logs. At either end were 
 long sweeps to direct its course. The craft was per- 
 haps forty feet long, but rather narrow, in order that 
 it might pass easily through the chute of a dam. It 
 was called the " wanigan." 
 
 Billy Camp, his cookee, and his crew of two were 
 now doomed to tribulation. The huge, unwieldy craft 
 from that moment was to become possessed of the 
 devil. Down the white water of rapids it would bump, 
 smashing obstinately against boulders, impervious to 
 the frantic urging of the long sweeps ; against the roots 
 and branches of the streamside it would scrape with 
 the perverseness of a vicious horse; in the broad 
 reaches it would sulk, refusing to proceed ; and when 
 expediency demanded its pause, it would drag Billy 
 Camp and his entire crew at the rope's end, while they 
 tried vainly to snub it against successively uprooted
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIi, 333 
 
 trees and stumps. When at last the wanigan was 
 moored fast for the night, usually a mile or so below 
 the spot planned, Billy Camp pushed back his bat- 
 tered old brown derby hat, the badge of his office, 
 with a sigh of relief. To be sure he and his men had 
 still to cut wood, construct cooking and camp fires, 
 pitch tents, snip browse, and prepare supper for 
 seventy men ; but the hard work of the day was over. 
 Billy Camp did not mind rain or cold he would 
 cheerfully cook away with the water dripping from 
 his battered derby to his chubby and cold-purpled 
 nose but he did mind the wanigan. And the worst 
 of it was, he got no sympathy nor aid from the crew. 
 From either bank he and his anxious struggling assist- 
 ants were greeted with ironic cheers and facetious re- 
 marks. The tribulations of the wanigan were as the 
 salt of life to the spectators. 
 
 Billy Camp tried to keep back of the rear in clear 
 water, but when the wanigan so disposed, he found 
 himself jammed close in the logs. There he had a 
 chance in his turn to become spectator, and so to re- 
 pay in kind some of the irony and facetiousness. 
 
 Along either bank, among the bushes, on sandbars, 
 and in trees, hundreds and hundreds of logs had been 
 stranded when the main drive passed. These logs 
 the rear crew were engaged in restoring to the cur- 
 rent. 
 
 And as a man had to be able to ride any kind of a 
 log in any water; to propel that log by jumping on it, 
 by rolling it squirrel fashion with the feet, by punting 
 it as one would a canoe ; to be skillful in pushing, pry- 
 ing, and poling other logs from the quarter deck of 
 the same cranky craft ; as he must be prepared at any 
 and all times to jump waist deep into the river, to work 
 in ice-water hours at a stretch ; as he was called upon 
 to break the most dangerous jams on the river, repre- 
 senting, as they did, the accumulation which the jam
 
 334 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 crew had left behind them, it was naturally considered 
 the height of glory to belong to the rear crew. Here 
 were the best of the Fighting Forty, men with a 
 reputation as " white-water birlers " men afraid of 
 nothing. 
 
 Every morning the crews were divided into two sec- 
 ,ions under Kerlie and Jack Hyland. Each crew had 
 charge of one side of the river, with the task of clean- 
 ing it thoroughly of all stranded and entangled logs. 
 Scotty Parsons exercised a general supervisory eye 
 over both crews. Shearer and Thorpe traveled back 
 and forth the length of the drive, riding the logs down 
 stream, but taking to a partly submerged pole trail 
 when ascending the current. On the surface of the 
 river in the clear water floated two long graceful boats 
 called bateaux. These were in charge of expert boat- 
 men, men able to propel their craft swiftly forwards, 
 backwards and sideways, through all kinds of water. 
 They carried in racks a great supply of pike-poles, 
 peaveys, axes, rope and dynamite, for use in various 
 emergencies. Intense rivalry existed as to which crew 
 " sacked " the farthest down stream in the course of 
 the day. There was no need to urge the men. Some 
 stood upon the logs, pushing mightily with the long 
 pike-poles. Others, waist deep in the water, clamped 
 the jaws 'of their peaveys into the stubborn timbers, 
 and, shoulder bent, slid them slowly but surely into the 
 swifter waters. Still others, lining up on either side 
 of one of the great brown tree trunks, carried it bodily 
 to its appointed place. From one end of the rear to 
 the other, shouts, calls, warnings, and jokes flew back 
 and forth. Once or twice a vast roar of Homeric 
 laughter went up as some unfortunate slipped and 
 soused into the water. When the current slacked, and 
 the logs hesitated in their run, the entire crew hastened, 
 bobbing from log to log, down river to see about it. 
 Then they broke the jam, standing surely on the edge
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 335 
 
 of the great darkness, while the ice water sucked in 
 and out of their shoes. 
 
 Behind the rear Big Junko poled his bateau back- 
 wards and forwards exploding dynamite. Many of 
 , the bottom tiers of logs in the rollways had been 
 .frozen down, and Big Junko had to loosen them from 
 the bed of the stream. He was a big man, this, as his 
 nickname indicated, built of many awkwardnesses. 
 His cheekbones were high, his nose flat, his lips thick 
 and slobbery. He sported a wide, ferocious strag- 
 gling mustache and long eye-brows, under which 
 gleamed little fierce eyes. His forehead sloped back 
 like a beast's, but was always hidden by a disreputable 
 felt hat. Big Junko did not know much, and had the 
 passions of a wild animal, but he was a reckless river- 
 man and devoted to Thorpe. Just now he exploded 
 dynamite. 
 
 The sticks of powder were piled amidships. Big 
 Junko crouched over them, inserting the fuses and 
 caps, closing the openings with soap, finally lighting 
 them, and dropping them into the water alongside, 
 where they immediately sank. Then a few strokes of 
 s. short paddle took him barely out of danger. He 
 huddled down in his craft, waiting. One, two, three 
 seconds passed. Then a hollow boom shook the 
 stream. A cloud of water sprang up, strangely beau- 
 tiful. After a moment the great brown logs rose sud- 
 denly to the surface from below, one after the other, 
 like leviathans of the deep. And Junko watched, dim- 
 ly fascinated, in his rudimentary animal's brain, by the 
 sight of the power he had evoked to his aid. 
 
 When night came the men rode down stream to 
 where the wanigan had made camp. There they slept, 
 often in blankets wetted by the wanigan's eccentrici- 
 ties, to leap to their feet at the first cry in early morn- 
 ing. Some days it rained, in which case they were 
 wet all the time. Almost invariably there was a jam
 
 336 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 to break, though strangely enough almost every one 
 of the old-timers believed implicitly that " in the full of 
 the moon logs will run free at night." 
 
 Thorpe and Tim Shearer nearly always slept in a 
 dog tent at the rear ; though occasionally they passed 
 the night at Dam Two, where Bryan Moloney and his 
 crew were already engaged in sluicing the logs through 
 the chute. 
 
 The affair was simple enough. Long booms ar- 
 ranged in the form of an open V guided the drive to 
 the sluice gate, through which a smooth apron of water 
 rushed to turmoil in an eddying pool below. Two men 
 tramped steadily backwards and forwards on the 
 booms, urging the logs forward by means of long pike 
 poles to where the suction could seize them. Below 
 the dam, the push of the sluice water forced them sev- 
 eral miles down stream, where the rest of Bryan Mo- 
 loney 's crew took them in charge. 
 
 Thus through the wide gate nearly three-quarters 
 of a million feet an hour could be run a quantity 
 more than sufficient to keep pace with the exertions 
 of the rear. The matter was, of course, more or less 
 delayed by the necessity of breaking out such roll- 
 ways as they encountered from time to time on the 
 banks. At length, however, the last of the logs drift- 
 ed into the wide dam pool. The rear had arrived at 
 Dam Two, and Thorpe congratulated himself that one 
 stage of his journey had been completed. Billy Camp 
 began to worry about shooting the wanigan through 
 the sluice-way.
 
 Chapter XLVIII 
 
 rHE j ear had been tenting at the dam for two 
 days, and was about ready to break camp, when 
 Jimmy Powers swung across the trail to tell 
 them of the big jam. 
 
 Ten miles along the river bed, the stream dropped 
 over a little half-falls into a narrow, rocky gorge. It 
 was always an anxious spot for the river drivers. In 
 fact, the plunging of the logs head-on over the fall 
 had so gouged out the soft rock below, that an eddy 
 of great power had formed in the basin. Shearer and 
 Thorpe had often discussed the advisability of con- 
 structing an artificial apron of logs to receive the im- 
 pact. Here, in spite of all efforts, the jam had formed, 
 first a little center of a few logs in the middle of the 
 stream, dividing the current, and shunting the logs 
 to right and left ; then " wings " growing out from 
 either bank, built up from logs shunted too violently ; 
 finally a complete stoppage of the channel, and the 
 consequent rapid piling up as the pressure of the drive 
 increased. Now the bed was completely filled, far 
 above the level of the falls, by a tangle that defied the 
 jam crew's best efforts. 
 
 The rear at once took the trail down the river. 
 Thorpe and Shearer and Scotty Parsons looked over 
 the ground. 
 
 " She may ' pull,' if she gets a good start," decided 
 Tim. 
 
 Without delay the entire crew was set to work. 
 Nearly a hundred men can pick a great many logs in 
 the course of a day. Seveial times the jam started, 
 
 337
 
 338 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 but always " plugged " before the motion had become 
 irresistible. This was mainly because the rocky walls 
 narrowed at a slight bend to the west, so that the drive 
 was throttled, as it were. It was hoped that perhaps 
 the middle of the jam might burst through here, leav- 
 ing the wings stranded. The hope was groundless. 
 
 " We'll have to shoot," Shearer reluctantly decided. 
 
 The men were withdrawn. Scotty Parsons cut a 
 sapling twelve feet long, and trimmed it. Big Junko 
 thawed his dynamite at a little fire, opening the ends 
 of the packages in order that the steam generated 
 might escape. Otherwise the pressure inside the oiled 
 paper of the package was capable of exploding the 
 whole affair. When the powder was warm, Scotty 
 bound twenty of the cartridges around the end of the 
 sapling, adjusted a fuse in one of them, and soaped 
 the opening to exclude water. Then Big Junko thrust 
 the long javelin down into the depths of the jam, leav- 
 ing a thin stream of smoke behind him as he turned 
 away. With sinister, evil eye he watched the smoke 
 for an instant, then zigzagged awkwardly over the jam, 
 the long, ridiculous tails of his brown cutaway coat 
 flopping behind him as he leaped. A scant moment 
 later the hoarse dynamite shouted. 
 
 Great chunks of timber shot to an inconceivable 
 height; entire logs lifted bodily into the air with the 
 motion of a fish jumping ; a fountain of water gleamed 
 against the sun and showered down in fine rain. The 
 jam shrugged and settled. That was all ; the " shot " 
 had failed. 
 
 The men ran forward, examining curiously the great 
 hole in the log formation. 
 
 " We'll have to flood her," said Thorpe. 
 
 So all the gates of the dam were raised, and the tor- 
 rent tried its hand. It had no effect. Evidently the 
 affair was not one of violence, but of patience. The 
 crew went doggedly to Work.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 339 
 
 Day after day the clank, dank, clink of the peaveys 
 sounded with the regularity of machinery. The only 
 practicable method was to pick away the flank logs, 
 leaving a long tongue pointing down-stream from 
 the center to start when it would. This happened 
 time and again, but always failed to take with it 
 the main jam. It was cruel hard work; a man who 
 has lifted his utmost strength into a peavey knows 
 that. Any but the Fighting Forty would have grum- 
 bled. 
 
 Collins, the bookkeeper, came up to view the tangle. 
 Later a photographer from Marquette took some 
 views, which, being exhibited, attracted a great deal 
 of attention, so that by the end of the week a number 
 of curiosity seekers were driving over every day to see 
 the Big Jam. A certain Chicago journalist in search 
 of balsam health of lungs even sent to his paper a little 
 item. This, unexpectedly, brought Wallace Carpen- 
 ter to the spot. Although reassured as to the gravity 
 of the situation, he remained to see. 
 
 The place was an amphitheater for such as chose 
 to be spectators. They could stand or sit on the sum- 
 mit of the gorge cliffs, overlooking the river, the fall, 
 and the jam. As the cliff was barely sixty feet high, 
 the view lacked nothing in clearness. 
 
 At last Shearer became angry. 
 
 " We've been monkeying long enough," said he. 
 " Next time we'll leave a center that will go out. W'll 
 shut the dams down tight and dry-pick out two wings 
 that'll start her." 
 
 The dams were first run at full speed, and then shut 
 down. Hardly a drop of water flowed in the bed of 
 the stream. The crews set laboriously to work to pull 
 and roll the logs out in such flat fashion that a head 
 of water should send them out. 
 
 This was even harder work than the other, for they 
 had not the floating power of water to help them in
 
 240 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the lifting. As usual, part of the men worked below, 
 part above. 
 
 Jimmy Powers, curly-haired, laughing-faced, was ir- 
 repressible. He badgered the others until they threw 
 bark at him and menaced him with their peaveys. 
 Always he had at his tongue's end the proper quip for 
 the occasion, so that in the long run the work was 
 lightened by him. When the men stopped to think at 
 all, they thought of Jimmy Powers with very kindly 
 hearts, for it was known that he had had more trouble 
 than most, and that the coin was not made too small 
 for him to divide with a needy comrade. To those 
 who had seen his mask of whole-souled good-nature 
 fade into serious sympathy, Jimmy Powers's poor little 
 jokes were very funny indeed. 
 
 " Did 'je see th' Swede at the circus las' summer? " 
 he would howl to Red Jacket on the top tier. 
 
 " No," Red Jacket would answer, " was he there ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jimmy Powers would reply ; then, after a 
 pause " in a cage ! " 
 
 It was a poor enough jest, yet if you had been there, 
 you would have found that somehow the log had in the 
 meantime leaped of its own accord from that difficult 
 position. 
 
 Thorpe approved thoroughly of Jimmy Powers ; he 
 thought him a good influence. He told Wallace so, 
 standing among the spectators on the cliff-top. 
 
 '" He is all right," said Thorpe. " I wish I had more 
 like him. The others are good boys, too." 
 
 Five men were at the moment tugging futilely at a 
 reluctant timber. They were attempting to roll one 
 end of it over the side of another projecting log, but 
 were continually foiled, because the other end was 
 jammed fast. Each bent his knees, inserting his shoul- 
 der under the projecting peavey stock, to straighten 
 in a mighty effort. 
 
 " Hire a boy ! " " Get some powder of Junko ! "
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 341 
 
 " Have Jimmy talk it out ! " " Try that little one over 
 by the corner," called the men on top of the jam. 
 
 Everybody laughed, of course. It was a fine spring 
 day, clear-eyed and crisp, with a hint of new foliage in 
 the thick buds of the trees. The air was so pellucid 
 that one distinguished without difficulty the straight 
 entrance to the gorge a mile away, and even the West 
 Bend, fully five miles distant. 
 
 Jimmy Powers took off his cap and wiped his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " You boys," he remarked politely, " think you are 
 boring with a mighty big auger." 
 
 " My God ! " screamed one of the spectators on top 
 of the cliff. 
 
 At the same instant Wallace Carpenter seized his 
 friend's arm and pointed. 
 
 Down the bed of the stream from the upper bend 
 rushed a solid wall of water several feet high. It flung 
 itself forward with the headlong impetus of a cascade. 
 Even in the short interval between the visitor's ex- 
 clamation and Carpenter's rapid gesture, it had 
 loomed into sight, twisted a dozen trees from the river 
 bank, and foamed into the entrance of the gorge. An 
 instant later it collided with the tail of the jam. 
 
 Even in the railroad rush of those few moments sev- 
 eral things happened. Thorpe leaped for a rope. The 
 crew working on top of the jam ducked instinctively 
 to right and left and began to scramble towards safety. 
 The men below, at first bewildered and not compre- 
 hending, finally understood, and ran towards the face 
 of the jam with the intention of clambering up it. 
 There could be no escape in the narrow canon below, 
 the walls of which rose sheer. 
 
 Then the flood hit square. It was the impact of ir- 
 resistible power. A great sheet of water rose like surf 
 from the tail of the jam ; a mighty cataract poured 
 down over its surface, lifting the free logs ; from either
 
 342 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 wing timbers crunched, split, rose suddenly into 
 wracked prominence, twisted beyond the semblance 
 of themselves. Here and there single logs were even 
 projected bodily upwards, as an apple seed is shot from 
 between the thumb and forefinger. Then the jam 
 moved. 
 
 Scotty Parsons, Jack Hyland, Red Jacket, and the 
 forty or fifty top men had reached the shore. By the 
 wriggling activity which is a riverman's alone, they 
 succeeded in pulling themselves beyond the snap of 
 death's jaws. It was a narrow thing for most of them, 
 and a miracle for some. 
 
 Jimmy Powers, Archie Harris, Long Pine Jim, Big 
 Nolan, and Mike Moloney, the brother of Bryan, were 
 in worse case. They were, as has been said, engaged 
 in " flattening " part of the jam about eight or ten rods 
 below the face of it. When they finally understood 
 that the affair was one of escape, they ran towards the 
 jam, hoping to climb out. Then the crash came. 
 They heard the roar of the waters, the wrecking of the 
 timbers, they saw the logs bulge outwards in anticipa- 
 tion of the break. Immediately they turned and fled, 
 they knew not where. 
 
 All but Jimmy Powers. He stopped short in his 
 tracks, and threw his battered old felt hat defiantly full 
 into the face of the destruction hanging over him. 
 Then, his bright hair blowing in the wind of death, he 
 turned to the spectators standing helpless and para- 
 lyzed, forty feet above him. 
 
 It was an instant's impression, the arrested mo- 
 tion seen in the flash of lightning and yet to the 
 onlookers it had somehow the quality of time. For 
 perceptible duration it seemed to them they stared at 
 the contrast between the raging hell above and the yet 
 peaceable river bed below. They were destined to re- 
 member that picture the rest of their natural lives, in 
 such detail that each one of them could almost have
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 343 
 
 reproduced it photographically by simply closing his 
 eyes. Yet afterwards, when they attempted to recall 
 definitely the impression, they knew it could have last- 
 ed but a fraction of a second, for the reason that, clear 
 and distinct in each man's mind, the images of the flee- 
 ing men retained definite attitudes. It was the in- 
 stantaneous photography of events. 
 
 " So long, boys," they heard Jimmy Powers's voice. 
 Then the rope Thorpe had thrown fell across a caldron 
 of tortured waters and of tossing logs.
 
 Chapter XLIX 
 
 y^vURING perhaps ten seconds the survivors 
 I Iwatched the end of Thorpe's rope trailing in the 
 J. ^Sftood. Then the young man with a deep sigh 
 began to pull it towards him. 
 
 At once a hundred surmises, questions, ejaculations 
 broke out. 
 
 " What happened ? " cried Wallace Carpenter. 
 
 " What was that man's name? " asked the Chicago 
 journalist with the eager instinct of his profession. 
 
 " This is terrible, terrible, terrible ! " a white-haired 
 physician from Marquette kept repeating over and 
 over. 
 
 A half dozen ran towards the point of the cliff to peer 
 down stream, as though they could hope to distin- 
 guish anything in that waste of flood water. 
 
 " The dam's gone out," replied Thorpe. " I don't 
 understand it. Everything was in good shape, as far 
 as I could see. It didn't act like an ordinary break. 
 The water came too fast. Why, it was as dry as a 
 bone until just as that wave came along. An ordinary 
 break would have eaten through little by little before 
 it burst, and Davis should have been able to stop it. 
 This came all at once, as if the dam had disappeared. 
 I don't see." 
 
 His mind of the professional had already began to 
 query causes. 
 
 "How about the men?" asked Wallace. "Isn't 
 there something I can do ? " 
 
 " You can head a hunt down the river," answered 
 Thorpe. " I think it is useless until the water goes 
 
 344
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 345 
 
 down. Poor Jimmy. He was one of the best men 
 I had. I wouldn't have had this happen " 
 
 The horror of the scene was at last beginning to fil- 
 ter through numbness into Wallace Carpenter's im- 
 pressionable imagination. 
 
 " No, no ! " he cried vehemently. " There is some- 
 thing criminal about it to me ! I'd rather lose every 
 log in the river ! " 
 
 Thorpe looked at him curiously. " It is one of the 
 chances of war," said he, unable to refrain from the 
 utterance of his creed. " We all know it." 
 
 " I'd better divide the crew and take in both banks 
 of the river," suggested Wallace in his constitutional 
 necessity of doing something. 
 
 " See if you can't get volunteers from this crowd," 
 suggested Thorpe. " I can let you have two men to 
 show you trails. If you can make it that way, it will 
 help me out. I need as many of the crew as possible 
 to use this flood water." 
 
 " Oh, Harry," cried Carpenter, shocked. " You 
 can't be going to work again to-day after that horrible 
 sight, before we have made the slightest effort to re- 
 cover the bodies ! " 
 
 " If the bodies can be recovered, they shall be," re- 
 plied Thorpe quietly. " But the drive will not wait. 
 We have no dams to depend on now, you must remem- 
 ber, and we shall have to get out on freshet water." 
 
 " Your men won't work. I'd refuse just as they 
 will ! " cried Carpenter, his sensibilities still suffering. 
 
 Thorpe smiled proudly. " You do not know them. 
 They are mine. I hold them in the hollow of my 
 hand!" 
 
 " By Jove ! " cried the journalist in sudden enthusi- 
 asm. " By Jove ! that is magnificent I " 
 
 The men of the river crew had crouched on their 
 narrow footholds while the jam went out. Each had 
 dung to his peavey, as is the habit of rivermen. Down
 
 346 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the current past their feet swept the debris of flood. 
 Soon logs began to swirl by, at first few, then many 
 from the remaining rollways which the river had 
 automatically broken. In a little time the eddy caught 
 up some of these logs, and immediately the inception 
 of another jam threatened. The rivermen, without 
 hesitation, as calmly as though catastrophe had not 
 thrown the weight of its moral terror against their sto- 
 icism, sprang, peavey in hand, to the insistent work. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said the journalist again. " That is 
 magnificent ! They are working over the spot where 
 their comrades died ! " 
 
 Thorpe's face lit with gratification. He turned to 
 the young man. 
 
 " You see," he said in proud simplicity. 
 
 With the added danger of freshet water, the work 
 went on. 
 
 At this moment Tim Shearer approached from in- 
 land, his clothes dripping wet, but his face retaining its 
 habitual expression of iron calmness. " Anybody 
 caught ? " was his first question as he drew near. 
 
 " Five men under the face," replied Thorpe briefly. 
 
 Shearer cast a glance at the river. He needed to 
 be told no more. 
 
 " I was afraid of it," said he. " The rollways must 
 be all broken out. It's saved us that much, but the 
 freshet water won't last long. It's going to be a dose 
 squeak to get 'em out now. Don't exactly figure on 
 what struck the dam. Thought first I'd go right up 
 that way, but then I came down to see about the boys." 
 
 Carpenter could not understand this apparent cal- 
 lousness on the part of men in whom he had always 
 thought to recognize a fund of rough but genuine feel- 
 ing. To him the sacredness of death was incompatible 
 with the insistence of work. To these others the two, 
 of grim necessity, went hand in hand. 
 
 " Where were you ? " asked Thorpe of Shearer.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 347 
 
 ** On the pole trail. I got in a little, as you see." 
 
 In reality the foreman had had a close call for his 
 life. A toughly-rooted basswood alone had saved 
 him. 
 
 " We'd better go up and take a look," he suggested, 
 * Th* boys has things going here all right" 
 
 The two men turned towards the brush. 
 
 " Hi, Tim," called a voice behind them. 
 
 Red Jacket appeared clambering up the cliff. 
 
 " Jack told me to give this to you," he panted, hold' 
 ing out a chunk of strangely twisted wood. 
 
 " Where 'd he get this ? " inquired Thorpe, quickly, 
 ** It's a piece of the dam," he explained to Wallace* 
 who had drawn near. 
 
 " Picked it out of the current," replied the man. 
 
 The foreman and his boss bent eagerly over the 
 morsel. Then they stared with solemnity into each 
 Other's eyes. 
 
 " Dynamite, by God I " exclaimed Shearer.
 
 Chapter L 
 
 to . ^OR a moment the three men stared at each 
 rj other without speaking. 
 
 JL "What does it mean?" almost whispered 
 
 Carpenter. 
 
 " Mean ? Foul play 1 " snarled Thorpe. " Come 
 on, Tim." 
 
 The two struck into the brush, threading the paths 
 with the ease of woodsmen. It was necessary to keep 
 to the high inland ridges for the simple reason that the 
 pole trail had by now become impassable. Wallace 
 Carpenter, attempting to follow them, ran, stumbled, 
 and fell through brush that continually whipped his 
 face and garments, continually tripped his feet. All 
 he could obtain was a vanishing glimpse of his com- 
 panions' backs. Thorpe and his foreman talked 
 briefly. 
 
 " It's Morrison and Daly," surmised Shearer. " I 
 left them 'count of a trick like that. They wanted me 
 to take charge of Perkinson's drive and hang her a 
 purpose. I been suspecting something they've been 
 layin' too low " 
 
 Thorpe answered nothing. Through the site of the 
 old dam they found a torrent pouring from the nar- 
 rowed pond, at the end of which the dilapidated wings 
 flapping in the current attested the former structure. 
 Davis stood staring at the current. 
 
 Thorpe strode forward and shook him violently by 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " How did this happen ? " he demanded hoarsely. 
 " Speak 1" 
 
 348
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 349 
 
 The man turned to him in a daze. " I don't know," 
 le answered. 
 
 " You ought to know. How was that ' shot ' ex- 
 ploded ? How did they get in here without you seeing 
 them ? Answer me ! " 
 
 " I don't know," repeated the man. " I jest went 
 over in th' bresh to kill a few pa'tridges, and when I 
 come back I found her this way. I wasn't goin' to 
 close down for three hours yet, and I thought they was 
 no use a hangin' around here." 
 
 " Were you hired to watch this dam, or weren't 
 you ? " demanded the tense voice of Thorpe. " Answer 
 me, you fool." 
 
 " Yes, I was," returned the man, a shade of aggres- 
 sion creeping into his voice. 
 
 " Well, you've done it well. You've cost me my 
 dam, and you've killed five men. If the crew finds out 
 about you, you'll go over the falls, sure. You get out 
 of here 1 Pike ! Don't you ever let me see your face 
 again ! " 
 
 The man blanched as he thus learned of his com- 
 rades' deaths. Thorpe thrust his face at him, lashed 
 by circumstances beyond his habitual self-control. 
 
 " It's men like you who make the trouble," he 
 stormed. " Damn fools who say they didn't mean 
 to. It isn't enough not to mean to. They should 
 wean not to! I don't ask you to think. I just want 
 you to do what I tell you, and you can't even do 
 that." 
 
 He threw his shoulder into a heavy blow that 
 reached the dam watcher's face, and followed it imme- 
 diately by another. Then Shearer caught his arm, 
 motioning the dazed and bloody victim of the attack 
 to get out of sight. Thorpe shook his foreman off 
 with one impatient motion, and strode away up the 
 river, his head erect, his eyes flashing, his nostrils dis- 
 tended.
 
 350 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " I reckon you'd better mosey," Shearer dryly ad- 
 vised the dam watcher ; and followed. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the two men reached Dam 
 Three, or rather the spot on which Dam Three had 
 stood. The same spectacle repeated itself here, ex- 
 cept that Ellis, the dam watcher, was nowhere to be 
 seen. 
 
 " The dirty whelps," cried Thorpe, " they did a good 
 job!" 
 
 He thrashed about here and there, and so came 
 across Ellis blindfolded and tied. When released, the 
 dam watcher was unable to give any account of his 
 assailants. 
 
 " They came up behind me while I was cooking," he 
 said. " One of 'em grabbed me and the other one 
 kivered my eyes. Then I hears the ' shot ' and knows 
 there's trouble." 
 
 Thorpe listened in silence. Shearer asked a few 
 questions. After the low-voiced conversation Thorpe 
 arose abruptly. 
 
 " Where you going ? " asked Shearer. 
 
 But the young man did not reply. He swung, with 
 the same long, nervous stride, into the down-river 
 trail. 
 
 Until late that night the three men for Ellis in- 
 sisted on accompanying them hurried through the 
 forest. Thorpe walked tirelessly, upheld by his violent 
 but repressed excitement. When his hat fell from his 
 head, he either did not notice the fact, or did not care 
 to trouble himself for its recovery, so he glanced 
 through the trees bare-headed, his broad white brow 
 gleaming in the moonlight. Shearer noted the fire in 
 his eyes, and from the coolness of his greater age, 
 counselled moderation. 
 
 " I wouldn't stir the boys up," he panted, for the 
 pace was very swift. " They'll kill some one over 
 there, it'll be murder on both sides."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 351 
 
 He received no answer. About midnight they came 
 io the camp. 
 
 Two great fires leaped among the trees, and the men, 
 past the idea of sleep, grouped between them, talking. 
 The lesson of twisted timbers was not lost to their 
 experience, and the evening had brought its accumula- 
 tion of slow anger against the perpetrators of the out- 
 rage. These men were not given to oratorical mouth- 
 ings, but their low-voiced exchanges between the puff- 
 ings of a pipe led to a steadier purpose than that of 
 hysteria. Even as the woodsmen joined their group, 
 they had reached the intensity of execution. Across 
 their purpose Thorpe threw violently his personality. 
 
 " You must not go," he commanded. 
 
 Through their anger they looked at him askance. 
 
 " I forbid it," Thorpe cried. 
 
 They shrugged their indifference and arose. This 
 was an affair of caste brotherhood ; and the blood of 
 their mates cried out to them. 
 
 "The work," Thorpe shouted hoarsely. "The 
 work! We must get those logs outl We haven't 
 time ! " 
 
 But the Fighting Forty had not Thorpe's ideal. 
 Success meant a day's work well done ; while ven- 
 geance stood for a righting of the realities which had 
 been unrighteously overturned. Thorpe's dry-eyed, 
 burning, almost mad insistence on the importance of 
 the day's task had not its ordinary force. They looked 
 upon him from a standpoint apart, calmly, dispassion- 
 ately, as one looks on a petulant child. The grim call 
 of tragedy had lifted them above little mundane things. 
 
 Then swiftly between the white, strained face of the 
 madman trying to convince his heart that his mind 
 had been right, and the fanatically exalted rivermen, 
 interposed the sanity of Radway. The old jobber 
 faced the men calmly, almost humorously, and some- 
 how the very bigness of the man commanded atten-
 
 352 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 tion. When he spoke, his coarse, good-natured, every- 
 day voice fell through the tense situation, clarifying 
 it, restoring it to the normal. 
 
 " You fellows make me sick," said he. " You 
 haven't got the sense God gave a rooster. Don't you 
 see you're playing right in those fellows' hands? 
 What do you suppose they dynamited them dams for ? 
 To kill our boys ? Don't you believe it for a minute. 
 They never dreamed we was dry pickin' that jam. 
 They sent some low-lived whelp down there to hang 
 our drive, and by smoke it looks like they was going 
 to succeed, thanks to you mutton-heads. 
 
 " 'Spose you go over and take 'em apart ; what then ? 
 You have a scrap ; probably you lick 'em." The men 
 growled ominously, but did not stir. " You whale 
 daylights out of a lot of men who probably don't know 
 any more about this here shooting of our dams than 
 a hog does about a ruffled shirt. Meanwhile your 
 drive hangs. Well ? Well ? Do you suppose the 
 men who were back of that shooting, do you suppose 
 Morrison and Daly give a tinker's dam how many men 
 of theirs you lick? What they want is to hang our 
 drive. If they hang our drive, it's cheap at the price 
 of a few black eyes." 
 
 The speaker paused and grinned good-humoredly at 
 the men's attentive faces. Then suddenly his own be- 
 came grave, and he swung into his argument all the 
 impressiveness of his great bulk. 
 
 " Do you want to know how to get even ? " he asked, 
 shading each word. "Do you want to know how to 
 make those fellows sing so small you can't hear them ? 
 Well, I'll tell you. Take out this drive! Do it in spite 
 of them ! Show them they're no good when they buck 
 up against Thorpe's One ! Our boys died doing their 
 duty the way a riverman ought to. Now hump your- 
 selves! Don't let 'em die in vain ! " 
 
 The crew stirred uneasily, looking at each other for
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 353 
 
 approval of the conversion each had experienced. 
 Radway, seizing the psychological moment, turned 
 easily toward the blaze. 
 
 " Better turn in, boys, and get some sleep," he said. 
 " We've got a hard day to-morrow." He stooped to 
 light his pipe at the fire. When he had again straight- 
 ened his back after rather a prolonged interval, the 
 group had already disintegrated. A few minutes later 
 the cookee scattered the brands of the fire from before 
 a sleeping camp. 
 
 Thorpe had listened non-committally to the collo- 
 quy. He had maintained the suspended attitude of a 
 man who is willing to allow the trial of other methods, 
 but who does not therefore relinquish his own. At the 
 favorable termination of the discussion he turned away 
 without comment. He expected to gain this result. 
 Had he been in a more judicial state of mind he might 
 have perceived at last the reason, in the complicated 
 scheme of Providence, for his long connection with 
 John Radway.
 
 Chapter LI 
 
 EFORE daylight Injin Charley drifted into the 
 to find Thorpe already out. With a curt 
 nod the Indian seated himself by the fire, and, 
 producing a square plug of tobacco and a knife, be- 
 gan leisurely to fill his pipe. Thorpe watched him in 
 silence. Finally Injin Charley spoke in the red man's 
 clear-cut, imitative English, a pause between each sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " I find trail three men," said he, " Both dam, three 
 men. One man go down river. Those men have 
 cork-boot. One man no have cork-boot. He boss." 
 
 The Indian suddenly threw his chin out, his head 
 back, half closed his eyes in a cynical squint. As by 
 a flash Dyer, the sealer, leered insolently from behind 
 the Indian's stolid mask. 
 
 " How do you know ? " said Thorpe. 
 
 For answer the Indian threw his shoulders forward 
 in Dyer's nervous fashion. 
 
 " He make trail big by the toe, light by the heel. 
 He make trail big on inside." 
 
 Charley arose and walked, after Dyer's springy 
 fashion, illustrating his point in the soft wood ashes 
 of the immediate fireside. 
 
 Thorpe looked doubtful. " I believe you are right, 
 Charley," said he. " But it is mighty little to go on. 
 You can't be sure." 
 
 " I sure," replied Charley. 
 
 He puffed strongly at the heel of his smoke, then 
 arose, and without farewell disappeared in the forest. 
 
 Thorpe ranged the camp impatiently, glancing 
 
 354
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 355 
 
 often at the sky. At length he laid fresh logs on the 
 fire and aroused the cook. It was bitter cold in the 
 early morning. After a time the men turned out of 
 their own accord, at first yawning with insufficient rest, 
 and then becoming grimly tense as their returned wits 
 reminded them of the situation. 
 
 From that moment began the wonderful struggle 
 against circumstances which has become a by-word 
 among rivermen everywhere. A forty-day drive had 
 to go out in ten. A freshet had to float out thirty 
 million feet of logs. It was tremendous ; as even the 
 men most deeply buried in the heavy hours of that time 
 dimly realized. It was epic ; as the journalist, by now 
 thoroughly aroused, soon succeeded in convincing his 
 editors and his public. Fourteen, sixteen, sometimes 
 eighteen hours a day, the men of the driving crew 
 worked like demons. Jams had no chance to form. 
 The phenomenal activity of the rear crew reduced by 
 half the inevitable sacking. Of course, under the press- 
 ure, the lower dam had gone out. Nothing was to be 
 depended on but sheer dogged grit. Far up-river Sad- 
 ler & Smith had hung their drive for the season. They 
 had stretched heavy booms across the current, and so 
 had resigned themselves to a definite but not extraor- 
 dinary loss. Thorpe had at least a clear river. 
 
 Wallace Carpenter could not understand how hu- 
 man flesh and blood endured. The men themselves 
 had long since reached the point of practical exhaus- 
 tion, but were carried through by the fire of their 
 leader. Work was dogged until he stormed into 
 sight ; then it became frenzied. He seemed to impart 
 to those about him a nervous force and excitability as 
 real as that induced by brandy. When he looked at 
 a man from his cavernous, burning eyes, that man 
 jumped. 
 
 It was all willing enough work. Several definite 
 causes, each adequate alone to something extraordi-
 
 356 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 nary, focussed to the necessity. His men worshipped 
 Thorpe; the idea of thwarting the purposes of their 
 comrade's murderers retained its strength ; the innate 
 pride of caste and craft the sturdiest virtue of the 
 riverman was in these picked men increased to the 
 dignity of a passion. The great psychological forces 
 of a successful career gathered and made head against 
 the circumstances which such careers always arouse in 
 polarity. 
 
 Impossibilities were puffed aside like thistles. The 
 men went at them headlong. They gave way before 
 the rush. Thorpe always led. Not for a single in- 
 stant of the day nor for many at night was he at rest. 
 He was like a man who has taken a deep breath to 
 reach a definite goal, and who cannot exhale until the 
 burst of speed be over. Instinctively he seemed to 
 realize that a let-down would mean collapse. 
 
 After the camp had fallen asleep, he would often lie 
 awake half of the few hours of their night, every muscle 
 tense, staring at the sky. His mind saw definitely 
 every detail of the situation as he had last viewed it. 
 In advance his imagination stooped and sweated to the 
 work which his body was to accomplish the next morn- 
 ing. Thus he did everything twice. Then at last the 
 tension would relax. He would fall into uneasy sleep. 
 But twice that did not follow. Through the dissolving 
 iron mist of his striving, a sharp thought cleaved like 
 an arrow. It was that after all he did not care. The 
 religion of Success no longer held him as its devout- 
 est worshiper. He was throwing the fiber? of his life 
 into the engine of toil, not because of moral duty, but 
 because of moral pride. He meant to succeed in order 
 to prove to himself that he had not been wrong. 
 
 The pain of the arrow-wound always aroused him 
 from his doze with a start. He grimly laughed the 
 thought out of court. To his waking moments his re- 
 ligion was sincere, was real. But deep down in his
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 357 
 
 sub-consciousness, below his recognition, the other 
 influence was growing like a weed. Perhaps the vis- 
 ion, not the waking, had been right. Perhaps that far- 
 off beautiful dream of a girl which Thorpe's idealism 
 had constructed from the reactionary necessities of 
 Thorpe's harsh life had been more real than his forest 
 temples of his ruthless god! Perhaps there were 
 greater things than to succeed, greater things than 
 success. Perhaps, after all, the Power that put us here 
 demands more that we cleave one to the other in lov- 
 ing-kindness than that we learn to blow the penny 
 whistles it has tossed us. And then the keen, poig- 
 nant memory of the dream girl stole into the young 
 man's mind, and in agony was immediately thrust 
 forth. He would not think of her. He had given her 
 up. He had cast the die. For success he had bar- 
 tered her, in the noblest, the loftiest spirit of devotion. 
 He refused to believe that devotion fanatical ; he re- 
 fused to believe that he had been wrong. In the still 
 darkness of the night he would rise and steal to the 
 edge of the dully roaring stream. There, his eyes 
 blinded and his throat choked with a longing more 
 manly than tears, he would reach out and smooth the 
 round rough coats of the great logs. 
 
 " We'll do it ! " he whispered to them and to him- 
 self. " We'll do it ! We can't be wrong. God would 
 not have let us ! "
 
 Chapter LII 
 
 rjT^ALLACE CARPENTER'S search expedi- 
 t/t/ tion had proved a failure, as Thorpe had 
 r r foreseen, but at the end of the week, when 
 the water began to recede, the little beagles ran upon a 
 mass of flesh and bones. The man was unrecogniza- 
 ble, either as an individual or as a human being. The 
 remains were wrapped in canvas and sent for inter- 
 ment in the cemetery at Marquette. Three of the 
 others were never found. The last did not come to 
 light until after the drive had quite finished. 
 
 Down at the booms the jam crew received the drive 
 as fast as it came down. From one crib to another 
 across the broad extent of the river's mouth, heavy 
 booms were chained end to end effectually to close 
 the exit to Lake Superior. Against these the logs 
 caromed softly in the slackened current, and stopped. 
 The cribs were very heavy with slanting, instead of 
 square, tops, in order that the pressure might be down- 
 wards instead of sidewise. This guaranteed their 
 permanency. In a short time the surface of the lagoon 
 was covered by a brown carpet of logs running in 
 strange patterns like windrows of fallen grain. Final- 
 ly, across the straight middle distance of the river, ap- 
 peared little agitated specks leaping back and forth. 
 Thus the rear came in sight and the drive was all but 
 over. 
 
 Up till now the weather had been clear but oppres- 
 sively hot for this time of year. The heat had come 
 suddenly and maintained itself well. It had searched 
 out with fierce directness all the patches of snow lying 
 
 358
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 359 
 
 under the thick firs and balsams of the swamp edge, 
 it had shaken loose the anchor ice of the marsh bot- 
 toms, and so had materially aided the success of the 
 drive by increase of water. The men had worked for 
 the most part in undershirts. They were as much in 
 the water as out of it, for the icy bath had become al- 
 most grateful. Hamilton, the journalist, who had 
 attached himself definitely to the drive, distributed 
 bunches of papers, in which the men read that the un- 
 seasonable condition prevailed all over the country. 
 
 At length, however, it gave signs of breaking. The 
 sky, which had been of a steel blue, harbored great 
 piled thunder-heads. Occasionally athwart the heat 
 shot a streak of cold air. Towards evening the thun- 
 der-heads shifted and finally dissipated, to be sure, but 
 the portent was there. 
 
 Hamilton's papers began to tell of disturbances in 
 the South and West. A washout in Arkansas de- 
 railed a train; a cloud-burst in Texas wiped out a 
 camp ; the cities along the Ohio River were enjoying 
 their annual flood with the usual concomitants of 
 floating houses and boats in the streets. The men 
 wished they had some of that water here. 
 
 So finally the drive approached its end and all con- 
 cerned began in anticipation to taste the weariness 
 that awaited them. They had hurried their powers. 
 The few remaining tasks still confronting them, all at 
 once seemed more formidable than what they had ac- 
 complished. They could not contemplate further ex- 
 ertion. The work for the first time became dogged, 
 distasteful. Even Thorpe was infected. He, too, 
 wanted more than anything else to drop on the bed in 
 Mrs. Hathaway's boarding house, there to sponge 
 from his mind all colors but the dead gray of rest. 
 There remained but a few things to do. A mile of 
 sacking would carry the drive beyond the influence 
 of freshet water. After that there would be no hurry.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 He looked around at the hard, fatigue-worn facet 
 of the men about him, and in the obsession of his 
 wearied mood he suddenly felt a great rush of affection 
 for these comrades who had so unreservedly spent 
 themselves for his affair. Their features showed ex- 
 haustion, it is true, but their eyes gleamed still with 
 the steady half-humorous purpose of the pioneer. 
 When they caught his glance they grinned good- 
 humoredly. 
 
 All at once Thorpe turned and started for the bank. 
 
 " That'll do, boys," he said quietly to the nearest 
 group. " She's down ! " 
 
 It was noon. The sackers looked up in surprise. 
 Behind them, to their very feet, rushed the soft smooth 
 slope of Hemlock Rapids. Below them flowed a 
 broad, peaceful river. The drive had passed its last 
 obstruction. To all intents and purposes it was over. 
 
 Calmly, with matter-of-fact directness, as though 
 they had not achieved the impossible ; as though they, 
 a handful, had not cheated nature and powerful ene- 
 mies, they shouldered their peaveys and struck into 
 the broad wagon road. In the middle distance loomed 
 the tall stacks of the mill with the little board town 
 about it. Across the eye spun the thread of the rail- 
 road. Far away gleamed the broad expanses of Lake 
 Superior. 
 
 The cook had, early that morning, moored the wan- 
 igan to the bank. One of the teamsters from town 
 had loaded the men's " turkeys " on his heavy wagon. 
 The wanigan's crew had thereupon trudged into town. 
 
 The men paired off naturally and fell into a drag- 
 ging, dogged walk. Thorpe found himself unexpect- 
 edly with Big Junko. For a time they plodded on 
 without conversation. Then the big man ventured a 
 remark. 
 
 " I'm glad she's over," said he. " I got a good stake 
 comin'."
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 361 
 
 ** Yes," replied Thorpe indifferently. 
 
 ** I got most six hundred dollars comin'," persisted 
 Junko. 
 
 " Might as well be six hundred cents," commented 
 Thorpe, " it'd make you just as drunk." 
 
 Big Junko laughed self-consciously but without the 
 slightest resentment. 
 
 " That's all right," said he, " but you betcher life I 
 don't blow this stake." 
 
 " I've heard that talk before," shrugged Thorpe. 
 
 " Yes, but this is different. I'm goin' to git married 
 on this. How's that? " 
 
 Thorpe, his attention struck at last, stared at his 
 companion. He noted the man's little twinkling ani- 
 mal eyes, his high cheek bones, his flat nose, his thick 
 and slobbery lips, his straggling, fierce mustache and 
 eyebrows, his grotesque long-tailed cutaway coat. 
 So to him, too, this primitive man reaching dully from 
 primordial chaos, the great moment had yielded its 
 vision. 
 
 " Who is she ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 " She used to wash at Camp Four." 
 
 Thorpe dimly remembered the woman now an 
 overweighted creature with a certain attraction of elf- 
 ishly blowing hair, with a certain pleasing full-cheeked, 
 full-bosomed health. 
 
 The two walked on in re-established silence. Final- 
 ly the giant, unable to contain himself longer, broke 
 out again. 
 
 " I do like that woman," said he with a quaintly de- 
 liberate seriousness. ** That's the finest woman in this 
 district." 
 
 Thorpe felt the quick moisture rush to his eyes. 
 There was something inexpressibly touching in those 
 dimple words as Big Junko uttered them. 
 
 " And when you are married," he asked, " what are 
 you going to do? Ar<*- you going to stay on the 
 ffrer?"
 
 362 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " No, I'm goin' to clear a farm. The woman sbft 
 says that's the thing to do. I like the river, too. Btrt 
 you bet when Carrie says a thing, that's plenty good 
 enough for Big Junko." 
 
 " Suppose," suggested Thorpe, irresistibly impelled 
 towards the attempt, " suppose I should offer you two 
 hundred dollars a month to stay on the river. Would 
 you stay ? " 
 
 " Carrie don't like it," replied Junko. 
 
 "Two hundred dollars is big wages/' persisted 
 Thorpe. " It's twice what I give Radway." 
 
 " I'd like to ask Carrie/' 
 
 * No, take it or leave it now." 
 
 Well, Carrie says she don't like it," answered the 
 merman with a sigh. 
 
 Thorpe looked at his companion fixedly. Some- 
 how the bestial countenance had taken on an attrac- 
 tion of its own. He remembered Big Junko as a wild 
 beast when his passions were aroused, as a man whose 
 honesty had been doubted. 
 
 " You've changed, Junko," said he. 
 
 " I know," said the big man. " I been a scalawag 
 all right. I quit it. I don't know much, but Carrie 
 she's smart, and I'm goin' to do what she says. When 
 you get stuck on a good woman like Carrie, Mr. 
 Thorpe, you don't give much of a damn for anything 
 else. Sure ! That's right 1 It's the biggest thing top 
 o' earth!" 
 
 Here it was again, the opposing creed. And from 
 such a source. Thorpe's iron will contracted again. 
 
 " A woman is no excuse for a man's neglecting his 
 work," he snapped. 
 
 " Shorely not," agreed Junko serenely. " I aim to 
 finish out my time all right, Mr. Thorpe. Don't you 
 worry none about that. I done my best for you. 
 And," went on the riverman in the expansion of this 
 unwonted confidence with his employer, " I'd like to
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 363 
 
 rise to remark that you're the best boss I ever had, 
 and we boys wants to stay with her till there's skating 
 :nhell!" 
 
 " All right," murmured Thorpe indifferently. 
 
 His momentary interest had left him. Again the 
 reactionary weariness dragged at his feet Suddenly 
 the remaining half mile to town seemed very long 
 indeed.
 
 Chapter LIII 
 
 JMT^ALLAGE CARPENTER and Hamilton, 
 
 l/i/ the journalist, seated against the sun- 
 
 r r warmed bench of Mrs. Hathaway's board- 
 
 oig-house, commented on the band as it stumbled in 
 
 to the wash-room. 
 
 " Those men don't know how big they are," re- 
 marked the journalist. " That's the way with most 
 big men. And that man Thorpe belongs to another 
 age. I'd like to get him to telling his experiences; 
 he'd be a gold mine to me." 
 
 " And would require about as much trouble to 
 'work,' " laughed Wallace. " He won't talk." 
 
 " That's generally the trouble, confound 'em," 
 sighed Hamilton. " The fellows who can talk haven't 
 anything to say ; and those who have something to tell 
 are dumb as oysters. I've got him in though." He 
 spread one of a roll of papers on his knees. " I got 
 a set of duplicates for you. Thought you might like 
 to keep them. The office tells me," he concluded mod- 
 estly, " that they are attracting lots of attention, but 
 are looked upon as being a rather clever sort of fic- 
 tion/" 
 
 Wallace picked up the sheet. His eye was at once 
 met by the heading, " ' So long, boys,' " in letters a 
 half inch in height, and immediately underneath in 
 smaller type, " said Jimmy Powers, and threw his hat 
 in the face of death." 
 
 " It's all there," explained the journalist, " the 
 jam and the break, and all this magnificent struggle 
 afterwards. It makes a great yarn. I feel tempted 
 
 364
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 365 
 
 sometimes to help it out a little artistically, you 
 know but of course that wouldn't do. She'd make 
 a ripping yarn, though, if I could get up some motive 
 outside mere trade rivalry for the blowing up of those 
 dams. That would just round it off." 
 
 Wallace Carpenter was about to reply that such a 
 motive actually existed, when the conversation was 
 interrupted by the approach of Thorpe and Big Junko. 
 The former looked twenty years older after his winter. 
 His eye was dull, his shoulders drooped, his gait was 
 inelastic. The whole bearing of the man was that of 
 one weary to the bone. 
 
 " I've got something here to show you, Harry," 
 cried Wallace Carpenter, waving one of the papers. 
 " It was a great drive and here's something to remem- 
 ber it by." 
 
 "All right, Wallace, by and by," replied Thorpe 
 dully. " I'm dead. I'm going to turn in for a while. 
 I need sleep more than anything else. I can't think 
 now." 
 
 He passed through the little passage into the " par- 
 lor bed-room," which Mrs. Hathaway always kept 
 in readiness for members of the firm. There he fell 
 heavily asleep almost before his body had met the 
 bed. 
 
 In the long dining room the rivermen consumed a 
 belated dinner. They had no comments to make. It 
 was over. 
 
 The two on the veranda smoked. To the right, at 
 the end of the sawdust street, the mill sang its varying 
 and lulling keys. The odor of fresh-sawed pine per- 
 fumed the air. Not a hundred yards away the rivei 
 slipped silently to the distant blue Superior, escaping 
 between the slanting stone-filled cribs which held back 
 the logs. Down the south and west the huge thunder- 
 heads gathered and flashed and grumbled, as they bad 
 done every afternoon for days previous.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 *' Queer thing," commented Hamilton finally, "these 
 cold streaks in the air. They are just as distinct as 
 though they had partitions around them." 
 
 " Queer climate anyway," agreed Carpenter. 
 
 Excepting always for the mill, the little settlement 
 appeared asleep. The main booms were quite desert- 
 ed. Not a single figure, armed with its picturesque 
 pike-pole, loomed athwart the distance. After awhile 
 Hamilton noticed something. 
 
 " Look here, Carpenter," said he, " what's happen- 
 ing out there ? Have some of your confounded logs 
 junk, or what ? There don't seem to be near so many 
 of them somehow." 
 
 " No, it isn't that," proffered Carpenter after a mo- 
 ment's scrutiny, " there are just as many logs, but they 
 are getting separated a 'little so you can see the open 
 water between them." 
 
 " Guess you're right. Say, look here, I believe that 
 the river is rising ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, we haven't had any rain." 
 
 " She's rising just the same. I'll tell you how I 
 know; you see that spile over there near the left- 
 iiand crib? Well, I sat on the boom this morning 
 watching the crew, and I whittled the spile with my 
 Icnife you can see the marks from here. I cut the 
 thing about two feet above the water. Look at it 
 now." / 
 
 " She's pretty near the water line, that's right," ad- 
 mitted Carpenter. 
 
 " I should think that might make the boys hot," 
 commented Hamilton. " If they'd known this was 
 coming, they needn't have hustled so to get the drive 
 down." 
 
 " That's so," Wallace agreed. 
 
 About an hour later the younger man in his turn 
 made a discovery. 
 
 " She's been rising right along," he submitted.
 
 ** Your marks are nearer the water, and, do you know, 
 [ believe the logs are beginning to feel it. See, they've 
 closed up the little openings between them, and they 
 are beginning to crowd down to the lower end of the 
 pond." 
 
 " I don't know anything about this business," haz- 
 arded the journalist, " but by the mere look of the 
 thing I should think there was a good deal of pressure 
 on that same lower end. By Jove, look there! See 
 those logs up-end ? I believe you're going to have a 
 jam right here in your own booms ! " 
 
 " I don't know," hesitated Wallace, " I never heard 
 of its happening." 
 
 " You'd better let someone know." 
 
 " I hate to bother Harry or any of the rivermen. 
 I'll just step down to the mill. Mason he's our mill 
 foreman he'll know." 
 
 Mason came to the edge of the high trestle and took 
 one look. 
 
 " Jumping fish-hooks! " he cried. " Why, the river's 
 up six inches and still a comin' ! Here you, Tom ! " 
 he called to one of the yard hands, " you tell Solly to 
 get steam on that tug double quick, and have Dave 
 hustle together his driver crew." 
 
 " What you going to do? " asked Wallace. 
 
 " I got to strengthen the booms," explained the mill 
 foreman. " We'll drive some piles across between the 
 cribs." 
 
 " Is there any danger ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, the river would have to rise a good deal 
 higher than she is now to make current enough to 
 hurt. They've had a hard rain up above. This will 
 go down in a few hours." 
 
 After a time the tug puffed up to the booms, escort- 
 ing the pile driver. The latter towed a little raft of 
 long sharpened piles, which it at once began to drive 
 in such positions as would most effectually strengthen
 
 3 68 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the booms. In the meantime the thunder-heads had 
 slyly climbed the heavens, so that a sudden deluge of 
 rain surprised the workmen. For an hour it poured 
 down in torrents ; then settled to a steady gray beat. 
 Immediately the aspect had changed. The distant rise 
 of land was veiled ; the brown expanse of logs became 
 slippery and glistening; the river below the booms 
 was picked into staccato points by the drops ; distant 
 Superior turned lead color and seemed to tumble 
 strangely athwart the horizon. 
 
 Solly, the tug captain, looked at his mooring hawsers 
 and then at the nearest crib. 
 
 " She's riz two inches in th' las' two hours," he an- 
 nounced, " and she's runnin' like a mill race." Solly 
 was a typical north-country tug captain, short and 
 broad, with a brown, clear face, and the steadiest and 
 calmest of steel-blue eyes. " When she begins to feel 
 th' pressure behind," he went on, " there's goin' to be 
 trouble." 
 
 Towards dusk she began to feel that pressure. 
 Through the rainy twilight the logs could be seen rais- 
 ing their ghostly arms of protest. Slowly, without 
 tumult, the jam formed. In the van the logs crossed 
 silently ; in the rear they pressed in, were sucked under 
 in the swift water, and came to rest at the bottom of 
 the river. The current of the river began to protest, 
 pressing its hydraulics through the narrowing crevices. 
 The situation demanded attention. 
 
 A breeze began to pull off shore in the body of rain. 
 Little by little it increased, sending the water by in 
 gusts, ruffling the already hurrying river into greater 
 haste, raising far from the shore dimly perceived 
 white-caps. Between the roaring of the wind, the dash 
 of rain, and the rush of the stream, men had to shout to 
 make themselves heard. 
 
 " Guess you'd better rout out the boss," screamed 
 Solly to Wallace Carpenter ; " this damn water's com-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 369 
 
 in' up an hich an hour right along. When she backs 
 up once, she'll push this jam out sure." 
 
 Wallace ran to the boarding house and roused his 
 partner from a heavy sleep. The latter understood the 
 situation at a word. While dressing, he explained to 
 the younger man wherein lay the danger. 
 
 " If the jam breaks once," said he, " nothing top of 
 earth can prevent it from going out into the Lake, and 
 there it'll scatter, Heaven knows where. Once scat- 
 tered, it is practically a total loss. The salvage 
 wouldn't pay the price of the lumber." 
 
 They felt blindly through the rain in the direction 
 of the lights on the tug and pile-driver. Shearer, the 
 water dripping from his flaxen mustache, joined them 
 like a shadow. 
 
 " I heard you come in," he explained to Carpenter. 
 At the river he announced his opinion. " We can hold 
 her all right," he assured them. " It'll take a few more 
 piles, but by morning the storm'll be over, and she'll 
 begin to go down again." 
 
 The three picked their way over the creaking, sway- 
 ing timber. But when they reached the pile-driver, 
 they found trouble afoot. The crew had mutinied, and 
 refused longer to drive piles under the face of the jam. 
 
 " If she breaks loose, she's going to bury us," said 
 they. 
 
 " She won't break," snapped Shearer, "get to work.'' 
 
 " It's dangerous," they objected sullenly. 
 
 " By God, you get off this driver," shouted Solly. 
 " Go over and lie down in a ten-acre lot, and see if you 
 feel safe there ! " 
 
 He drove them ashore with a storm of profanity and 
 a multitude of kicks, his steel-blue eyes blazing. 
 
 " There's nothing for it but to get the boys out 
 again," said Tim ; " I kinder hate to do it." 
 
 But when the Fighting Forty, half asleep but daunt- 
 less, took charge of the driver, a catastrophe made it-
 
 370 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 self known. One of the ejected men had tripped the 
 lifting chain of the hammer after another had knocked 
 away the heavy preventing block, and so the hammer 
 had fallen into the river and was lost. None other 
 was to be had. The pile driver was useless. 
 
 A dozen men were at once despatched for cables, 
 chains, and wire ropes from the supply at the ware- 
 house. 
 
 " I'd like to have those whelps here," cried Shearer, 
 " I'd throw them under the jam." 
 
 " It's part of the same trick," said Thorpe grimly ; 
 " those fellows have their men everywhere among us. 
 I don't know whom to trust." 
 
 " You think it's Morrison & Daly ? " queried Car- 
 penter astonished. 
 
 " Think ? I know it. They know as well as you or 
 I that if we save these logs, we'll win out in the stock 
 exchange ; and they're not such fools as to let us save 
 them if it can be helped. I have a score to settle with 
 those fellows ; and when I get through with this thing 
 I'll settle it all right." 
 
 " What are you going to do now ? " 
 
 " The only thing there is to be done. We'll string 
 heavy booms, chained together, between the cribs, and 
 then trust to heaven they'll hold. I think we can hold 
 the jam. The water will begin to flow over the bank 
 before long, so there won't be much increase of press- 
 ure over what we have now; and as there won't be 
 any shock to withstand, I think our heavy booms will 
 do the business." 
 
 He turned to direct the boring of some long boom 
 logs in preparation for the chains. Suddenly he 
 whirled again to Wallace with so strange an expres- 
 sion in his face that the young man almost cried out 
 The uncertain light of the lanterns showed dimly the 
 streaks of rain across his countenance, and his eye 
 flared with a look almost of panic.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 371 
 
 " I never thought of it ! * he said in a low voice. 
 " Fool that I am ! I don't see how I missed it. Wal- 
 lace, don't you see what those devils will do next ? " 
 
 "No, what do you mean?" gasped the younger 
 man. 
 
 " There are twelve million feet of logs up river in 
 Sadler & Smith's drive. Don't you see what they'll 
 do?" 
 
 " No, I don't believe " 
 
 " Just as soon as they find out that the river is boom- 
 ing, and that we are going to have a hard time to hold 
 our jam, they'll let loose those twelve million on us. 
 They'll break the jam, or dynamite it, or something. 
 And let me tell you, that a very few logs hitting the 
 tail of our jam will start the whole shooting match so 
 that no power on earth can stop it." 
 
 " I don't imagine they'd think of doing that " 
 
 began Wallace by way of assurance. 
 
 "Think of it! You don't know them. They've 
 thought of everything. You don't know that man 
 Daly. Ask Tim, he'll tell you." 
 
 " Well, the " 
 
 " I've got to send a man up there right away. Per- 
 haps we can get there in time to head them off. They 
 have to send their man over By the way," he 
 queried, struck with a new idea, " how long have you 
 been driving piles ? " 
 
 " Since about three o'clock." 
 
 " Six hours," computed Thorpe. M I wish you'd 
 come for me sooner." 
 
 He cast his eye rapidly over the men. 
 
 " I don't know just who to send. There isn't a good 
 enough woodsman in the lot to make Siscoe Falls 
 through the woods a night like this. The river trail 
 is too long; and a cut through the woods is blind. 
 Andrews is the only man I know of who could do it, 
 but I think Billy Mason said Andrews had gone up on
 
 372 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 the Gunther track to run lines. Come on; we'll 
 see." 
 
 With infinite difficulty and caution, they reached the 
 shore. Across the gleaming logs shone dimly the lan- 
 terns at the scene of work, ghostly through the rain. 
 Beyond, on either side, lay impenetrable drenched 
 darkness, racked by the wind. 
 
 " / wouldn't want to tackle it," panted Thorpe. " If 
 it wasn't for that cursed tote road between Sadler's 
 and Daly's, I wouldn't worry. It's just too easy for 
 them." 
 
 Behind them the jam cracked and shrieked and 
 groaned. Occasionally was heard, beneath the sharper 
 noises, a dull boom, as one of the heavy timbers forced 
 by the pressure from its resting place, shot into the air, 
 and fell back on the bristling surface. 
 
 Andrews had left that morning. 
 
 " Tim Shearer might do it," suggested Thorpe, " but 
 I hate to spare him." 
 
 He picked his rifle from its rack and thrust the mag- 
 azine full of cartridges. 
 
 " Come on, Wallace," said he, " we'll hunt him up." 
 
 They stepped again into the shriek and roar of the 
 storm, bending their heads to its power, but indiffer- 
 ent in the already drenched condition of their clothing, 
 to the rain. The saw-dust street was saturated like a 
 sponge. They could feel the quick water rise abouV 
 the pressure at their feet. From the invisible houses 
 ,lley heard a steady monotone of flowing from the 
 roofs. Far ahead, dim in the mist, sprayed the light 
 of lanterns. 
 
 Suddenly Thorpe felt a touch on his arm. Faintly 
 he perceived at his elbow the high lights of a face from 
 which the water streamed. 
 
 " Injin Charley ! " he cried, " the very man ! "
 
 Chapter LIV 
 
 JT^APIDLY Thorpe explained what was to be 
 redone, and thrust his rifle into the Indian's hands. 
 JL \. The latter listened in silence and stolidity, then 
 turned, and without a word departed swiftly in the 
 darkness. The two white men stood a minute atten- 
 tive. Nothing was to be heard but the steady beat of 
 rain and the roaring of the wind. 
 
 Near the bank of the river they encountered a man, 
 visible only as an uncertain black outline against the 
 glow of the lanterns beyond. Thorpe, stopping him, 
 found Big Junko. 
 
 " This is no time to quit," said Thorpe, sharply. 
 
 " I 'aint quitting" replied Big Junko. 
 
 " Where are you going, then ? " 
 
 Junko was partially and stammeringly unrespon- 
 sive. 
 
 " Looks bad," commented Thorpe. " You'd better 
 get back to your job." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Junko helplessly. In the momentary 
 slack tide of work, the giant had conceived the idea of 
 searching out the driver crew for purposes of pugilis- 
 tic vengeance. Thorpe's suspicions stung him, but 
 his simple mind could see no direct way to explanation. 
 
 All night long in the chill of a spring rain and wind- 
 storm the Fighting Forty and certain of the mill crew 
 gave themselves to the labor of connecting the slant- 
 ing stone cribs so strongly, by means of heavy timbers 
 chained end to end, that the pressure of a break in the 
 jam might not sweep aside the defenses. Wallace 
 Carpenter, Shorty, the chore-boy, and Anderson, the 
 
 373
 
 374 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 barn-boss, picked a dangerous passage back and forth 
 carrying pails of red-hot coffee which Mrs. Hathaway 
 constantly prepared. The cold water numbed the 
 men's hands. With difficulty could they manipulate 
 the heavy chains through the auger holes; with pain 
 they twisted knots, bored holes. They did not com- 
 plain. Behind them the jam quivered, perilously near 
 the bursting point. From it shrieked aloud the demons 
 of pressure. Steadily the river rose, an inch an hour. 
 The key might snap at any given moment, they 
 could not tell, and with the rush they knew very 
 well that themselves, the tug, and the disabled pile- 
 driver would be swept from existence. The worst of 
 it was that the blackness shrouded their experience 
 into uselessness; they were utterly unable to tell by 
 the ordinary visual symptoms how near the jam might 
 be to collapse. 
 
 However, they persisted, as the old-time riverman 
 always does, so that when dawn appeared the barrier 
 was continuous and assured. Although the pressure 
 of the river had already forced the logs against the de* 
 fenses, the latter held the strain well. 
 
 The storm had settled into its gait. Overhead the 
 sky was filled with gray, beneath which darker scuds 
 flew across the zenith before a howling southwest 
 wind. Out in the clear river one could hardly stand 
 upright against the gusts. In the fan of many direc- 
 tions furious squalls swept over the open water below 
 the booms and an eager boiling current rushed to the 
 lake. 
 
 Thorpe now ga,ve orders that the tug and driver 
 should take shelter. A few moments later he ex- 
 pressed himself as satisfied. The dripping crew, their 
 harsh faces gray in the half-light, picked their way to 
 the shore. 
 
 In the darkness of that long night's work no man 
 knew his neighbor. Men from the river, men from the
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 375 
 
 mill, men from the yard all worked side by side. Thus 
 no one noticed especially a tall, slender, but well-knit 
 individual dressed in a faded mackinaw and a limp 
 slouch hat which he wore pulled over his eyes. This 
 young fellow occupied himself with the chains.' 
 Against the racing current the crew held the ends of 
 the heavy booms, while he fastened them together. 
 He worked well, but seemed slow. Three times 
 Shearer hustled him on after the others had finished, 
 examining closely the work that had been done. On 
 the third occasion he shrugged his shoulder somewhat 
 impatiently. 
 
 The men straggled to shore, the young fellow just 
 described bringing up the rear. He walked as though 
 tired out, hanging his head and dragging his feet. 
 When, however, the boarding-house door had closed 
 on the last of those who preceded him, and the town 
 lay deserted in the dawn, he suddenly became trans- 
 formed. Casting a keen glance right and left to be 
 sure of his opportunity, he turned and hurried reck- 
 lessly back over the logs to the center booms. There 
 he knelt and busied himself with the chains. 
 
 In his zigzag progression over the jam he so blended 
 with the morning shadows as to seem one of them, and 
 he would have escaped quite unnoticed had not a sud- 
 den shifting of the logs under his feet compelled him 
 to rise for a moment to his full height. So Wallace 
 Carpenter, passing from his bedroom, along the porch, 
 to the dining room, became aware of the man on the 
 logs. 
 
 His first thought was that something demanding 
 instant attention had happened to the boom. He 
 therefore ran at once to the man's assistance, ready to 
 help him personally or to call other aid as the exig- 
 ency demanded. Owing to the precarious nature of 
 the passage, he could not see beyond his feet until very 
 close to the workman. Then he looked up to find the
 
 376 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 man, squatted on the boom, contemplating him sax 
 donically. 
 
 " Dyer ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Right, my son," said the other coolly. 
 
 " What are you doing? " 
 
 "If you want to know, I am filing this chain.** 
 
 Wallace made one step forward and so became aware 
 that at last firearms were taking a part in this desper- 
 ate game. 
 
 " You stand still," commanded Dyer from behind 
 the revolver. " It's unfortunate for you that you hap- 
 pened along, because now you'll have to come with 
 me till this little row is over. You won't have to stay 
 long; your logs'll go out in an hour. I'll just trouble 
 you to go into the brush with me for a while." 
 
 The sealer picked his file from beside the weakened 
 Hnk. 
 
 "What have you against us, anyway, Dyer?'" 
 asked Wallace. His quick mind had conceived a plan. 
 At the moment, he was standing near the outermost 
 edge of the jam, but now as he spoke he stepped quiet- 
 ly to the boom log. 
 
 Dyer's black eyes gleamed at him suspiciously, but 
 the movement appeared wholly natural in view of the 
 return to shore. 
 
 " Nothing," he replied. " I didn't like your gang 
 particularly, but that's nothing." 
 
 " Why do you take such nervy chances to injure 
 us ? " queried Carpenter. 
 
 " Because there's something in it," snapped the 
 sealer. " Now about face ; mosey ! " 
 
 Like a flash Wallace wheeled and dropped into the 
 river, swimming as fast as possible below water before 
 his breath should give out. The swift current hurried 
 him away. When at last he rose for air, the spit oi 
 Dyer's pistol caused him no uneasiness. A moment 
 later he struck out boldly for shore.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 377 
 
 What Dyer's ultimate plan might be, he could not 
 guess. He had stated confidently that the jam would 
 break " in an hour." He might intend to start it with 
 dynamite. Wallace dragged himself from the water 
 and commenced breathlessly to run toward the board- 
 ing-house. 
 
 Dyer had already reached the shore. Wallace 
 raised what was left of his voice in a despairing shout. 
 The sealer mockingly waved his hat, then turned and 
 ran swiftly and easily toward the shelter of the woods. 
 At their border he paused again to bow in derision. 
 Carpenter's cry brought men to the boarding-house 
 door. From the shadows of the forest two vivid 
 flashes cut the dusk. Dyer staggered, turned com- 
 pletely about, seemed partially to recover, and disap- 
 peared. An instant later, across the open space where 
 the sealer had stood, with rifle a-trail, the Indian leaped 
 in pursuit.
 
 Chapter LV 
 
 'JTJTT'HAT is it?" "What's the matter? * 
 l/J/ "What the hell's up?" "What's hap- 
 r r pened? " burst on Wallace in a volley. 
 
 " It's Dyer," gasped the young man. " I found him 
 on the boom ! He held me up with a gun while he 
 filed the boom chains between the center piers. 
 They're just ready to go. I got away by diving. 
 Hurry and put in a new chain; you haven't much 
 time!" 
 
 " He's a gone-er now," interjected Solly grimly. 
 " Charley is on his trail and he is hit." 
 
 Thorpe's intelligence leaped promptly to the practi- 
 cal question. 
 
 " Injin Charley, where'd he come from ? I sent him 
 op Sadler & Smith's. It's twenty miles, even through 
 the woods." 
 
 As though by way of colossal answer the whole 
 surface of the jam moved inward and upward, thrust- 
 ing the logs bristling against the horizon. 
 
 " She's going to break ! " shouted Thorpe, starting 
 on a run towards the river. " A chain, quick 1 " 
 
 The men followed, strung high with excitement 
 Hamilton, the journalist, paused long enough to 
 glance up-stream. Then he, too, ran after them, 
 screaming that the river above was full of logs. By 
 that they all knew that Injin Charley's mission had 
 failed, and that something under ten million feet of logs 
 were racing down the river like so many battering 
 rams. 
 
 At the boom the great jam was already a-tremble 
 S78
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 379 
 
 with eagerness to spring. Indeed a miracle alone 
 seemed to hold the timbers in their place. 
 
 " It's death, certain death, to go out on that boom," 
 muttered Billy Mason. 
 
 Tim Shearer stepped forward coolly, ready as al- 
 ways to assume the perilous duty. He was thrust 
 back by Thorpe, who seized the chain, cold-shut and 
 hammer which Scotty Parsons brought, and ran light- 
 ly out over the booms, shouting, 
 
 " Back ! back ! Don't follow me, on your lives t 
 Keep 'em back, Tim ! " 
 
 The swift water boiled from under the booms. 
 Bang! smash! bang! crashed the logs, a mile up- 
 stream, but plainly audible above the waters and the 
 wind. Thorpe knelt, dropped the cold-shut through 
 on either side of the weakened link, and prepared to 
 close it with his hammer. He intended further to 
 strengthen the connection with the other chain. 
 
 " Lem' me hold her for you. You can't close her 
 alone," said an unexpected voice next his elbow. 
 
 Thorpe looked up in surprise and anger. Over him 
 leaned Big Junko. The men had been unable to pre- 
 vent his following. Animated by the blind devotion 
 of the animal for its master, and further stung to 
 action by that master's doubt of his fidelity, the giant 
 had followed to assist as he might. 
 
 '' You damned fool," cried Thorpe exasperated, then 
 held the hammer to him, " strike while I keep the chain 
 underneath," he commanded. 
 
 Big Junko leaned forward to obey, kicking strongly 
 his caulks into the barked surface of the boom log. 
 The spikes, worn blunt by the river work already ac- 
 complished, failed to grip. Big Junko slipped, caught 
 himself by an effort, overbalanced in the other direc- 
 tion, and fell into the stream. The current at once 
 swept him away, but fortunately in such a direction 
 that he was enabled to catch the slanting end of a
 
 380 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " dead head " log whose lower end was jammed in the 
 crib. The dead head was slippery, the current strong; 
 Big Junko had no crevice by which to assure his hold. 
 In another moment he would be torn away. 
 
 " Let go and swim ! " shouted Thorpe. 
 
 " I can't swim," replied Junko in so low a Toice as 
 to be scarcely audible. 
 
 For a moment Thorpe staretJ at him. 
 
 " Tell Carrie," said Big Junko. 
 
 Then there beneath the swirling gray sky, under the 
 frowning jam, in the midst of flood waters, Thorpe had 
 his second great Moment of Decision. He did not 
 pause to weigh reasons or chances, to discuss with 
 himself expediency, or the moralities of failure. His 
 actions were foreordained, mechanical. All at once 
 the great forces which the winter had been bringing to 
 power, crystallized into something bigger than him- 
 self or his ideas. The trail lay before him ; there was 
 no choice. 
 
 Now clearly, with no shadow of doubt, he took the 
 other view : There could be nothing better than Love. 
 Men, their works, their deeds were little things. Suc- 
 cess was a little thing ; the opinion of men a little thing. 
 Instantly he felt the truth of it. 
 
 And here was Love in danger. That it held its 
 moment's habitation in clay of the coarser mould had 
 nothing to do with the great elemental truth of it. For 
 the first time in his life Thorpe felt the full crushing 
 power of an abstraction. Without thought, instinct- 
 ively, he threw before the necessity of the moment all 
 that was lesser. It was the triumph of what was real 
 m the man over that which environment, alienation, 
 difficulties had raised up within him. 
 
 At Big Junko's words, Thorpe raised his hammer 
 and with one mighty blow severed the chains which 
 bound the ends of the booms across the opening. The 
 free end of one of the poles immediately swung down
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 381 
 
 with the current in the direction of Big Junko. Thorpe 
 ike a cat ran to the end of the boom, seized the giant 
 by the collar, and dragged him through the water to 
 safety. 
 
 " Run ! " he shouted. " Run for your life ! " 
 
 The two started desperately back, skirting the edge 
 of the logs which now the very seconds alone seemed 
 to hold back. They were drenched and blinded with 
 spray, deafened with the crash of timbers settling to 
 the leap. The men on shore could no longer see them 
 for the smother. The great crush of logs had actually 
 begun its first majestic sliding motion when at last 
 they emerged to safety. 
 
 At first a few of the loose timbers found the opening, 
 slipping quietly through with the current ; then more ; 
 finally the front of the jam dove forward ; and an in- 
 stant later the smooth, swift motion had gained its 
 impetus and was sweeping the entire drive down 
 through the gap. 
 
 Rank after rank, like soldiers charging, they ran. 
 The great fierce wind caught them up ahead of the cur- 
 rent. In a moment the open river .was full of logs jost- 
 ling eagerly onward. Then suddenly, far out above 
 the uneven tossing skyline of Superior, the strange 
 northern " loom," or mirage, threw the specters of 
 thousands of restless timbers rising and falling on the 
 bosom of the lake.
 
 Chapter LVI 
 
 rHEY stood and watched them go. 
 " Oh, the great man ! Oh, the great man ! * 
 murmured the writer, fascinated. 
 
 The grandeur of the sacrifice had struck them 
 dumb. They did not understand the motives beneath 
 it all, but the fact was patent. Big Junko broke down 
 and sobbed. 
 
 After a time the stream of logs through the gap 
 slackened. In a moment more, save for the inevitably 
 stranded few, the booms were empty. A deep sigh 
 went up from the attentive multitude. 
 
 " She's gone! " said one man, with the emphasis of 
 a novel discovery ; and groaned. 
 
 Then the awe broke from about their minds, and 
 they spoke many opinions and speculations. Thorpe 
 had disappeared. They respected his emotion and did 
 not follow him. 
 
 " It was just plain damn foolishness ; but it was 
 great ! " said Shearer. " That no-account jackass of a 
 Big Junko ain't worth as much per thousand feet as 
 good white pine." 
 
 Then they noticed a group of men gathering about 
 the office steps, and on it someone talking. Collins, 
 the bookkeeper, was making a speech. 
 
 Collins was a little hatchet-faced man, with straight, 
 lank hair, nearsighted eyes, a timid, order-loving dis- 
 position, and a great suitability 'jr his profession. He 
 was accurate, unemotional, and valuable. All his 
 actions were as dry as the saw-dust in the burner. 
 No one had ever seen him excited. But he was 
 
 382
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 383 
 
 human; and now his knowledge of the Company's 
 affairs showed him the dramatic contrast He knew! 
 He knew that the property of the firm had been 
 mortgaged to the last dollar in order to assist expan- 
 sion, so that not another cent could be borrowed 
 to tide over present difficulty. He knew that the notes 
 for sixty thousand dollars covering the loan to Wal- 
 lace Carpenter came due in three months; he knew 
 from the long table of statistics which he was eternally 
 preparing and comparing that the season's cut should 
 have netted a profit of two hundred thousand dollars 
 enough to pay the interest on the mortgages, to 
 take up the notes, and to furnish a working capital for 
 the ensuing year. These things he knew in the strange 
 concrete arithmetical manner of the routine book- 
 keeper. Other men saw a desperate phase of firm 
 rivalry; he saw a struggle to the uttermost. Other 
 men cheered a rescue : he thrilled over the magnificent 
 gesture of the Gambler scattering his stake in largesse 
 to Death. 
 
 It was the simple turning of the hand from full 
 breathed prosperity to lifeless failure. 
 
 His view was the inverse of his master's. To 
 Thorpe it had suddenly become a very little thing in 
 contrast to the great, sweet elemental truth that the 
 dream girl had enunciated. To Collins the affair was 
 miles vaster than the widest scope of his own narrow 
 life. 
 
 The firm could not take up its notes when they came 
 due ; it could not pay the interest on the mortgages, 
 which would now be foreclosed ; it could not even pay 
 in full the men who had worked for it that would 
 come under a court's adjudication. 
 
 He had therefore watched Thorpe's desperate sally 
 to mend the weakened chain, in all the suspense of a 
 man whose entire universe is in the keeping of the 
 chance moment. It must be remembered that at bot-
 
 384 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 torn, below the outer consciousness, Thorpe's final de- 
 cision had already grown to maturity. On the other 
 hand, no other thought than that of accomplishment 
 had even entered the little bookkeeper's head. The 
 rescue and all that it had meant had hit him like a 
 stroke of apoplexy, and his thin emotions had curdled 
 to hysteria. Full of the idea he appeared before the 
 men. 
 
 With rapid, almost incoherent speech he poured it 
 out to them. Professional caution and secrecy were 
 forgotten. Wallace Carpenter attempted to push 
 through the ring for the purpose of stopping him. 
 A gigantic riverman kindly but firmly held him back. 
 
 " I guess it's just as well we hears this," said the 
 latter. 
 
 It all came out the loan to Carpenter, with a hint 
 at the motive : the machinations of the rival firm on the 
 Board of Trade ; the notes, the mortgages, the neces- 
 sity of a big season's cut ; the reasons the rival firm had 
 for wishing to prevent that cut from arriving at the 
 market ; the desperate and varied means they had em- 
 ployed. The men listened silent. Hamilton, his eyes 
 glowing like coals, drank in every word. Here was 
 the master motive he had sought; here was the story 
 great to his hand 1 
 
 " That's what we ought to get," cried Collins, almost 
 weeping, " and now we've gone and bust, just because 
 that infernal river-hog had to fall off a boom. By 
 God, it's a shame 1 Those scalawags have done us 
 after all 1" 
 
 Out from the shadows of the woods stole Injin 
 Charley. The whole bearing and aspect of the man 
 had changed. His eye gleamed with a distant far- 
 seeing fire of its own, which took no account of any- 
 thing but some remote vision. He stole along almost 
 furtively, but with a proud upright carriage of his 
 neck, a backward tilt of his fine head, a distention oi
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 385 
 
 his nostrils that lent to his appearance a panther-like 
 pride and stealthiness. No one saw him. Suddenly 
 he broke through the group and mounted the steps 
 beside Collins. 
 
 " The enemy of my brother is gone," said he simply 
 in his native tongue, and with a sudden gesture held 
 out before them a scalp. 
 
 The medieval barbarity of the thing appalled them 
 for a moment. The days of scalping were long since 
 past, had been closed away between the pages of for- 
 gotten histories, and yet here again before them was 
 the thing in all its living horror. Then a growl arose. 
 The human animal had tasted blood. 
 
 All at once like wine their wrongs mounted to their 
 heads. They remembered their dead comrades. They 
 remembered the heart-breaking days and nights of tofl 
 they had endured on account of this man and his asso- 
 ciates. They remembered the words of Collins, the 
 little bookkeeper. They hated. They shook their 
 fists across the skies. They turned and with one ac- 
 cord struck back for the railroad right-of-way which 
 led to Shingleville, the town controlled by Morrison 
 & Daly. 
 
 The railroad lay for a mile straight through a thick 
 tamarack swamp, then over a nearly treeless cranberry 
 plain. The tamarack was a screen between the two 
 towns. When half-way through the swamp, Red- 
 Jacket stopped, removed his coat, ripped the lining 
 from it, and began to fashion a rude mask. 
 
 " Just as well they don't recognize us," said he. 
 
 " Somebody in town will give us away," suggested 
 Shorty, the chore-boy. 
 
 " No, they won't ; they're all here," assured Kerlie. 
 
 It was true. Except for the women and children, 
 who were not yet about, the entire village had assem- 
 bled. Even old Vanderhoof, the fire-watcher of the 
 yard, hobbled along breathlessly on his rheumatic
 
 3S6 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 legs. In a moment the masks were fitted. In a mo- 
 ment more the little band had emerged from the shel- 
 ter of the swamp, and so came into full view of its ob- 
 jective point. 
 
 Shingleville consisted of a big mill ; the yards, now 
 nearly empty of lumber; the large frame boarding- 
 house ; the office ; the stable ; a store ; two saloons ; and 
 a dozen dwellings. The party at once fixed its eyes 
 on this collection of buildings, and trudged on down 
 the right-of-way with unhastening grimness. 
 
 Their approach was not unobserved. Daly saw 
 them ; and Baker, his foreman, saw them. The two 
 at once went forth to organize opposition. When the 
 attacking party reached the mill-yard, it found the boss 
 and the foreman standing alone on the sawdust, re- 
 volvers drawn. 
 
 Daly traced a line with his toe. 
 
 " The first man that crosses that line gets it," said he. 
 
 They knew he meant what he said. An instant's 
 pause ensued, while the big man and the little faced 
 a mob. Daly's rivermen were still on drive. He 
 knew the mill men too well to depend on them. 
 Truth to tell, the possibility of such a raid as this had 
 not occurred to him ; for the simple reason that he did 
 not anticipate the discovery of his complicity with the 
 forces of nature. Skillfully carried out, the plan was 
 a good one. No one need know of the weakened 
 link, and it was the most natural thing in the world 
 that Sadler & Smith's drive should go out with the 
 increase of water. 
 
 The men grouped swiftly and silently on the other 
 side of the sawdust line. The pause did not mean that 
 Daly's defense was good. I have known of a crew of 
 striking mill men being so bluffed down, but not such 
 men as these. 
 
 " Do you know what's going to happen to you ? " 
 said a voice from the group. The speaker was Rad*
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 387 
 
 way, but the contractor kept himself well in the back- 
 ground. " We're going to burn your mill ; we're go- 
 ing to burn your yards; we're going to burn your 
 whole shooting match, you low-lived whelp 1 " 
 
 " Yes, and we're going to string you to your own 
 trestle ! " growled another voice harshly. 
 
 " Dyer ! " said Injin Charley, simply, shaking the 
 wet scalp arm's length towards the lumbermen. 
 
 At this grim interruption a silence fell. The owner 
 paled slightly ; his foreman chewed a nonchalant straw. 
 Down the still and deserted street crossed and re- 
 crossed the subtle occult influences of a half-hundred 
 concealed watchers. Daly and his subordinate were 
 very much alone, and very much in danger. Their 
 last hour had come ; and they knew it. 
 
 With the recognition of the fact, they immediately 
 raised their weapons in the resolve to do as much dam- 
 age as possible before being overpowered. 
 
 Then suddenly, full in the back, a heavy stream of 
 water knocked them completely off their feet, rolled 
 them over and over on the wet sawdust, and finally 
 jammed them both against the trestle, where it held 
 them, kicking and gasping for breath, in a choking 
 cataract of water. The pistols flew harmlessly into 
 the air. For an instant the Fighting Forty stared in 
 paralyzed astonishment. Then a tremendous roar of 
 laughter saluted this easy vanquishment of a formida- 
 ble enemy. 
 
 Daly and Baker were pounced upon and captured. 
 There was no resistance. They were too nearly stran- 
 gled for that. Little Solly and old Vanderhoof turned 
 off the water in the fire hydrant and disconnected the 
 hose they had so effectively employed. 
 
 " There, damn you ! " said Rollway Charley, jerking 
 the millman to his feet. " How do you like too much 
 water ? hey ? " 
 
 The unexpected comedy changed the party's mood.
 
 $88 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 It was no longer a question of killing. A number 
 broke into the store, and shortly emerged, bearing 
 pails of kerosene with which they deluged the slabs on 
 the windward side of the mill. The flames caught the 
 structure instantly. A thousand sparks, borne by the 
 off-shore breeze, fastened like so many stinging insects 
 on the lumber in the yard. 
 
 It burned as dried balsam thrown on a camp fire. 
 The heat of it drove the onlookers far back in the vil- 
 lage, where in silence they watched the destruction. 
 From behind locked doors the inhabitants watched 
 with them. 
 
 The billow of white smoke filled the northern sky. 
 A whirl of gray wood ashes, light as air, floated on and 
 ever on over Superior. The site of the mill, the 
 squares where the piles of lumber had stood, glowed 
 incandescence over which already a white film was 
 forming. 
 
 Daly and his man were slapped and cuffed hither 
 and thither at the men's wilL Their faces bled, their 
 bodies ached as one bruise. 
 
 " That squares us," said the men. " If we can't cut 
 this year, neither kin you. It's up to you now ! " 
 
 Then, like a destroying horde of locusts, they gutted 
 the office and the store, smashing what they could not 
 carry to the fire. The dwellings and saloons they did 
 not disturb. Finally, about noon, they kicked their 
 two prisoners into the river, and took their way strag- 
 glingly back along the right-of-way. 
 
 " I surmise we took that town apart some! " re- 
 marked Shorty with satisfaction. 
 
 " I should rise to remark," replied Kerlie. Big 
 Junko said nothing, but his cavernous little animal 
 eyes glowed with satisfaction. He had been the firs* 
 to lay hands on Daly ; he had helped to carry the pe- 
 troleum ; he had struck the first match ; he had evea 
 administered the final kick.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 At the boarding-house they found Wallace Carpen- 
 ter and Hamilton seated on the veranda. It was now 
 afternoon. The wind had abated somewhat, and the 
 sun was struggling with the still flying scuds. 
 
 " Hello, boys," said Wallace, " been for a little walk 
 in the woods ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Jack Hyland, " we " 
 
 " I'd rather not hear," interrupted Wallace. 
 * There's quite a fire over east. I suppose you haven't 
 noticed it." 
 
 Hyland looked gravely eastward. 
 
 " Sure 'nough ! " said he. 
 
 ** Better get some grub," suggested Wallace. 
 
 After the men had gone in, he turned to the jour- 
 nalist. 
 
 " Hamilton," he began, " write all you know about 
 the drive, and the break, and the rescue, but as to the 
 burning of the mill " 
 
 The other held out his hand. 
 
 " Good," said Wallace offering his own. 
 
 And that was as far as the famous Shingleville raid 
 ever got. Daly did his best to collect even circum- 
 stantial evidence against the participants, but in vain, 
 He could not even get anyone to say that a single mem- 
 ber of the village of Carpenter had absented himself 
 from town that morning. This might have been from 
 loyalty, or it might have been from fear of the ven- 
 geance the Fighting Forty would surely visit on a 
 traitor. Probably it was a combination of both. The 
 fact remains, however, that Daly never knew surely 
 of but one man implicated in the destruction of his 
 plant. That man was Injin Charley, but Injin Char- 
 ley promptly disappeared. 
 
 After an interval, Tim Shearer, Radway and Kerlie 
 came out again. 
 
 " Where's the boss ? " asked Shearer. 
 
 " I don't know, Tim," replied Wallace seriously.
 
 390 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " I've looked everywhere. He's gone. He must have 
 been all cut up. I think he went out in the woods to 
 get over it. I am not worrying. Harry has lots of 
 sense. He'll come in about dark." 
 
 "Sure! "said Tim. 
 
 " How about the boy's stakes ? queried Radway. 
 " I hear this is a bad smash for the firm." 
 
 " We'll see that the men get their wages all right," 
 replied Carpenter, a little disappointed that such a 
 question should be asked at such a time. 
 
 " All right," rejoined the contractor. " We're si 
 going to need our money this summer."
 
 Chapter LVII 
 
 rHORPE walked through the silent group oi 
 men without seeing them. He had no thought 
 for what he had done, but for the triumphant 
 discovery he had made in spite of himself. This he 
 saw at once as something to glory in and as a duty to 
 be fulfilled. 
 
 It was then about six o'clock in the morning. 
 Thorpe passed the boarding-house, the store, and the 
 office, to take himself as far as the little open shed that 
 served the primitive town as a railway station. There 
 he set the semaphore to flag the east-bound train from 
 Duluth. At six thirty-two, the train happening on 
 time, he climbed aboard. He dropped heavily into a 
 seat and stared straight in front of him until the con- 
 ductor had spoken to him twice. 
 
 " Where to, Mr. Thorpe? " he asked. 
 
 The latter gazed at him uncomprehendingly. 
 
 " Oh ! Mackinaw City," he replied at last. 
 
 *' How're things going up your way ? " inquired the 
 conductor by way of conversation while he made out 
 the pay-slip. 
 
 " Good 1 " responded Thorpe mechanically. 
 
 The act of paying for his fare brought to his con- 
 sciousness that he had but a little over ten dollars with 
 ^him. He thrust the change back into his pocket, and 
 took up his contemplation of nothing. The river water 
 dripped slowly from his " cork " boots to form a pool 
 on the car floor. The heavy wool of his short driving 
 trousers steamed in the car's warmth. His shoulders 
 dried in a little cloud of vapor. He noticed none oi
 
 392 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 these things, but stared ahead, his gaze vacant, the 
 bronze of his face set in the lines of a brown study, 
 his strong capable hands hanging purposeless between 
 his knees. The ride to Mackinaw City was six hours 
 long, and the train in addition lost some ninety 
 minutes ; but in all this distance Thorpe never altered 
 his pose nor his fixed attitude of attention to some 
 inner voice. 
 
 The car-ferry finally landed them on the southern 
 peninsula. Thorpe descended at Mackinaw City to 
 find that the noon train had gone. He ate a lunch at 
 the hotel, borrowed a hundred dollars from the 
 agent of Louis Sands, a lumberman of his acquaint- 
 ance ; and seated himself rigidly in the little waiting 
 room, there to remain until the nine-twenty that night. 
 When the cars were backed down from the siding, he 
 boarded the sleeper. In the doorway stood a disap- 
 proving colored porter. 
 
 " Yo'll fin' the smokin' cah up fo'wu'd, suh," said 
 the latter, firmly barring the way. 
 
 " It's generally forward," answered Thorpe. 
 
 '* This yeah's th' sleepah," protested the functionary. 
 ** You pays extry." 
 
 " I am aware of it," replied Thorpe curtly. " Give 
 me a lower." 
 
 " Yessah!" acquiesced the darkey, giving way, but 
 still in doubt He followed Thorpe curiously, peering 
 into the smoking room on him from time to time. A 
 little after twelve his patience gave out. The stolid 
 gloomy man of lower six seemed to intend sitting up 
 all night. 
 
 " Yo' berth is ready, sah," he delicately suggested. 
 
 Thorpe arose obediently, walked to lower six, and, 
 without undressing, threw himself on the bed. After- 
 wards the porter, in conscientious discharge of his 
 duty, looked diligently beneath the seat for boots to 
 polish. Happening to glance up, after fruitless search.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 he discovered the boots still adorning the feet of their 
 owner. 
 
 " Well, for th' lands sake ! " ejaculated the scandal- 
 ized negro, beating a hasty retreat. 
 
 He was still more scandalized when, the following 
 noon, his strange fare brushed by him without bestow- 
 ing the expected tip. 
 
 Thorpe descended at Twelfth Street in Chicago 
 without any very clear notion of where he was going. 
 For a moment he faced the long park-like expanse of 
 the lake front, then turned sharp to his left and picked 
 his way south up the interminable reaches of Michigan 
 Avenue. He did this without any conscious motive, 
 mainly because the reaches seemed interminable, 
 and he proved the need of walking. Block after block 
 he clicked along, the caulks of his boots striking fire 
 from the pavement. Some people stared at him a lit- 
 tle curiously. Others merely glanced in his direction, 
 attracted more by the expression of his face than the 
 peculiarity of his dress. At that time rivermen were 
 not an uncommon sight along the water front. 
 
 After an interval he seemed to have left the smoke 
 and dirt behind. The street became quieter. Board- 
 ing-houses and tailors' shops ceased. Here and there 
 appeared a bit of lawn, shrubbery, flowers. The resi- 
 dences established an uptown crescendo of magnifi- 
 cence. Policemen seemed trimmer, better -gloved. 
 Occasionally he might have noticed in front of one of 
 the sandstone piles, a besilvered pair champing before 
 a stylish vehicle. By and by he came to himself to 
 find that he was staring at the deep-carved lettering in 
 a stone horse-block before a large dwelling. 
 
 His mind took the letters in one after the other, per- 
 ceiving them plainly before it accorded them recogni- 
 tion. Finally he had completed the word FarrawL 
 He whirled sharp on his heel, mounted the broad 
 white stone steps, and rang the bell.
 
 394 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 It was answered almost immediately by a clean- 
 shaven, portly and dignified man with the most impas- 
 sive countenance in the world. This man looked upon 
 Thorpe with lofty disapproval. 
 
 " Is Miss Hilda Farrand at home ? " he asked. 
 
 " I cannot say," replied the man. " If you will step 
 to the back door, I will ascertain." 
 
 " The flowers will do. Now see that the south room 
 ie ready, Annie," floated a voice from within. 
 
 Without a word, but with a deadly earnestness,, 
 Thorpe reached forward, seized the astonished servant 
 by the collar, yanked him bodily outside the door, 
 stepped inside, and strode across the hall toward a 
 closed portiere whence had come the voice. The 
 riverman's long spikes cut little triangular pieces from 
 the hardwood floor. Thorpe did not notice that He 
 thrust aside the portiere. 
 
 Before him he saw a young and beautiful girl. She 
 was seated, and her lap was filled with flowers. At his 
 sudden apparition, her hands flew to her heart, and 
 her lips slightly parted. For a second the two stood 
 looking at each other, just as nearly a year before their 
 eyes had crossed over the old pole trail. 
 
 To Thorpe the girl seemed more beautiful than ever. 
 She exceeded even his retrospective dreams of her, 
 for the dream had persistently retained something of 
 the quality of idealism which made the vision unreal, 
 while the woman before him had become human flesh 
 and blood, adorable, to be desired. The red of this 
 violent unexpected encounter rushed to her face, her 
 bosom rose and fell in a fluttering catch for breath; 
 but her eyes were steady and inquiring. 
 
 Then the butler pounced on Thorpe from behind 
 with the intent to do great bodily harm. 
 
 M Morris 1 " commanded Hilda sharply, " what arc 
 you doing ? " 
 
 The man cut short his heroism in confusion,
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " You may go," concluded Hilda. 
 
 Thorpe stood straight and unwinking by the straight 
 portiere. After a moment he spoke. 
 
 " I have come to tell you that you were right and I 
 was wrong," said he steadily. " You told me there 
 could be nothing better than love. In the pride of my 
 strength I told you this was not so. I was wrong." 
 
 He stood for another instant, looking directly at 
 her, then turned sharply, and head erect walked from 
 the room. 
 
 Before he had reached the outer door the girl was 
 at his side. 
 
 " Why are you going ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have nothing more to say." 
 
 " Nothing? " 
 
 44 Nothing at all." 
 
 She laughed happily to herself. 
 
 " But I have much. Come back." 
 
 They returned to the little morning room, Thorpe's! 
 caulked boots gouging out the little triangular fur- 
 rows in the hardwood floor. Neither noticed that. 
 Morris, the butler, emerged from his hiding and held 
 tip the hands of horror. 
 
 " What are you going to do now ? " she catechised, 
 facing him in the middle of the room. A long tendril 
 of her beautiful corn-silk hair fell across her eyes ; her 
 red lips parted in a faint wistful smile; beneath the 
 draperies of her loose gown the pure slender lines of 
 her figure leaned toward him. 
 
 " I am going back," he replied patiently. 
 
 " I knew you would come," said she. " I have been 
 expecting you." 
 
 She raised one hand to brush back the tendril of 
 hair, but it was a mechanical gesture, one that did not 
 stir even the surface consciousness of the strange 
 half-smiling, half-wistful, starry gaze with which she 
 watched his face.
 
 396 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 " Oh, Harry," she breathed, with a sudden flash ol 
 insight, " you are a man born to be much misunder- 
 stood/' 
 
 He held himself rigid, but in his veins was creeping 
 a molten fire, and the fire was beginning to glow 
 dully in his eye. Her whole being called him. His 
 heart leaped, his breath came fast, his eyes swam. 
 With almost hypnotic fascination the idea obsessed 
 him to kiss her lips, to press the soft body of the 
 young girl, to tumble her hair down about her flower 
 face. He had not come for this. He tried to steady 
 himself, and by an effort that left him weak he suc- 
 ceeded. Then a new flood of passion overcame him. 
 In the later desire was nothing of the old humble ado- 
 ration. It was elemental, real, almost a little savage. 
 He wanted to seize her so fiercely as to hurt her. 
 Something caught his throat, filled his lungs, weak- 
 ened his kfaees. For a moment it seemed to him that 
 he was going to faint. 
 
 And still she stood there before him, saying nothing, 
 leaning slightly towards him, her red lips half parted, 
 her eyes fixed almost wistfully on his face. 
 
 " Go away ! " he whispered hoarsely at last. The 
 voice was not his own. " Go away 1 Go away I " 
 
 Suddenly she swayed to him. 
 
 " Oh, Harry, Harry," she whispered, " must I tdl 
 you? Don't you see? " 
 
 The flood broke through him. He seized her 
 hungrily. He crushed her to him until she gasped: 
 he pressed his lips against hers until she all but cried 
 out with the pain of it ; he ran his great brown hands 
 blindly through her hair until it came down about them 
 both in a cloud of spun light 
 
 " Tell me 1 " he whispered. " Tell me ! " 
 
 "Oh! Oh! "she cried. "Please! What is ft?" 
 
 " I do not believe it," he murmured savagely. 
 
 She drew herself from him with gentle dignity.
 
 397 
 
 * I am not worthy to say it," she said soberly, " but 
 I love you with all my heart and soul ! " 
 
 Then for the first and only time in his life Thorpe 
 fell to weeping, while she, understanding, stood by and 
 comforted him.
 
 Chapter LVIII 
 
 rHE few moments of Thorpe's tears eased the 
 emotional strain under which, perhaps uncon- 
 sciously, he had been laboring for nearly a year 
 past. The tenseness of his nerves relaxed. He was 
 able to look on the things about him from a broader 
 standpoint than that of the specialist, to front life with 
 saving humor. The deep breath after striving could 
 at last be taken. 
 
 In this new attitude there was nothing strenuous, 
 nothing demanding haste ; only a deep glow of content 
 and happiness. He savored deliberately the joy of a 
 luxurious couch, rich hangings, polished floor, sub- 
 dued light, wanned atmosphere. He watched with 
 soul-deep gratitude the soft girlish curves of Hilda's 
 body, the poise of her flower head, the piquant, half- 
 wistful, half-childish set of her red lips, the clear star- 
 like glimmer of her dusky eyes. It was all near to 
 ihim ; his. 
 
 " Kiss me, dear," he said. 
 
 She swayed to him again, deliciously graceful, deli- 
 clously unselfconscious, trusting, adorable. Already 
 in the little nothingnesses of manner, the trifles of 
 mental and bodily attitude, she had assumed that 
 faint trace of the maternal which to the observant 
 tells so plainly that a woman has given herself to a 
 man. 
 
 She leaned her cheek against her hand, and her hand 
 against his shoulder. 
 
 " I have been reading a story lately," said she, " that 
 has interested me very much. It was about a man
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 renounced all he held most dear to shield a 
 friend. 
 
 M Yes, w said Thorpe. 
 
 " Then he renounced all his most valuable posses- 
 sions because a poor common man needed the sacri- 
 fice." 
 
 " Sounds like a medieval story," said he with uncon- 
 scious humor. 
 
 " It happened recently," rejoined Hilda. " I read it 
 in the papers." 
 
 " Well, he blazed a good trail," was Thorpe's sigh- 
 ing comment. " Probably he had his chance. We 
 don't all of us get that. Things go crooked and get 
 tangled up, so we have to do the best we can. I don't 
 believe I'd have done it." 
 
 " Oh, you are delicious ! " she cried. 
 
 After a time she said very humbly : " I want to beg 
 your pardon for misunderstanding you and causing 
 you so much suffering. I was very stupid, and didn't 
 see why you could not do as I wanted you to." 
 
 "' That is nothing to forgive. I acted like a fool." 
 
 " I have known about you," she went on. " It has 
 all come out in the Telegram. It has been very excit- 
 ing. Poor boy, you look tired." 
 
 He straightened himself suddenly. ** I have forgot- 
 ten, actually forgotten," he cried a little bitterly. 
 " Why, I am a pauper, a bankrupt, I " 
 
 " Harry," she interrupted gently, but very firmly, 
 "you must not say what you were going to say. I 
 cannot allow it, Money came between us before. It 
 must not do so again. Am I not right, dear ? " 
 
 She smiled at him with the lips of a child and the 
 eyes of a woman. 
 
 " Yes," he agreed after a struggle, " you are right 
 But now I must begin all over again. It will be a long 
 time before I shall be able to claim you. I have my 
 way to make."
 
 400 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 ** Yes," said she diplomatically. 
 
 " But you 1 " he cried suddenly. " The papers re- 
 mind me. How about that Morton ? " 
 
 "What about him?" asked the girl, astonished 
 " He is very happily engaged." 
 
 Thorpe's face slowly filled with blood. 
 
 " You'll break the engagement at once," he com- 
 manded a little harshly. 
 
 " Why should I break the engagement ? " demanded 
 Hilda, eying him with some alarm. 
 
 " I should think it was obvious enough." 
 
 " But it isn't," she insisted. " Why ? " 
 
 Thorpe was silent as he always had been in emer- 
 gencies, and as he was destined always to be. His was 
 not a nature of expression, but of action. A crisis 
 always brought him, like a bull-dog, silently to the 
 
 grip- 
 Hilda watched him puzzled, with bright eyes, like 
 a squirrel. Her quick brain glanced here and 
 there among the possibilities, seeking the explana- 
 tion. Already she knew better than to demand it of 
 him. 
 
 " You, actually don't think he's engaged to me! " sh< 
 burst out finally. 
 " Isn't he ? " asked Tnorpe. 
 
 " Why no, stupid ! He's engaged to Elizabeth Car- 
 penter, Wallace's sister. Now where did you get that 
 silly idea?" 
 
 " I saw it in the paper." 
 
 " And you believe all you see ! Why didn't you ask 
 Wallace but of course you wouldn t ! Harry, yov 
 are the most incoherent dumb old brute I ever saw ! 
 I could shake you 1 Why don't you say something oc- 
 casionally when it's needed, instead of sitting dumb as 
 a sphinx and getting into all sorts of trouble? But 
 you never will. I know you. You dear old bear! 
 You need a wife to interpret things for you. You
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 401 
 
 a different language from most people." She 
 said this between laughing and crying ; between a sense 
 of the ridiculous uselessness of withholding a single 
 timely word, and a tender pathetic intuition of the suf- 
 fering such a nature must endure. In the prospect of 
 the future she saw her use. It gladdened her and filled 
 her with a serene happiness possible only to those 
 who feel themselves a necessary and integral part in 
 the lives of the ones they love. Dimly she perceived 
 this truth. Dimly beyond it she glimpsed that other 
 great truth of nature, that the human being is rarely 
 completely efficient alone, that in obedience to his 
 greater use he must take to himself a mate before he 
 can succeed. 
 
 Suddenly she jumped to her feet with an exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, Harry! I'd forgotten utterly!" she cried in 
 laughing consternation. " I "have a luncheon here 
 at half-past one! It's almost that now. I must run 
 and dress. Just look at me; just look! You did 
 that!" 
 
 " I'll wait here until the confounded thing is over," 
 said Thorpe. 
 
 " Oh, no, you won't," replied Hilda decidedly. 
 " You are going down town right now and get some- 
 thing to put on. Then you are coming back here to 
 stay." 
 
 Thorpe glanced in surprise at his driver's clothes, 
 and his spiked boots. 
 
 " Heavens and earth ! " he exclaimed, " I should 
 think so ! How am I to get out without ruining the 
 floor?" 
 
 Hilda laughed and drew aside the portiere. 
 
 " Don't you think you have done that pretty well 
 already ? " she asked. " There, don't look so solemn, 
 We're not going to be sorry for a. single thing we've
 
 402 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 done to-day, are we ? " She stood close to him hold- 
 ing the lapels of his jacket in either hand, searching 
 his face wistfully with her fathomless dusky eyes. 
 
 " No, sweetheart, we are not," replied Thorpe 
 soberly.
 
 Chapter LIX 
 
 it is useless to follow the sequel in <fe 
 tafl, to tell how Hilda persuaded Thorpe to take 
 her money. She aroused skillfully his fighting 
 blood, induced him to use one fortune to rescue an- 
 other. To a woman such as she this was not a very 
 difficult task in the long run. A few scruples of pride ;" 
 that was all. 
 
 " Do not consider its being mine," she answered to 
 his objections. " Remember the lesson we learned so 
 bitterly. Nothing can be greater than love, not even 
 our poor ideals. You have my love ; do not disappoint 
 me by refusing so little a thing as my money." 
 
 "I hate to do it," he replied; "it doesn't look 
 right." 
 
 M You must," she insisted. " I will not take the po- 
 sition of rich wife to a poor man ; it is humiliating to 
 both. I will not marry you until you have made your 
 success." 
 
 " That is right," said Thorpe heartily. 
 
 " Well, then, are you going to be so selfish as to 
 keep me waiting while you make an entirely new start, 
 when a little help on my part will bring your plans to 
 completion ? " 
 
 She saw the shadow of assent in his eyes. 
 
 " How much do you need ? " she asked swiftly. 
 
 " I must take up the notes," he explained. " I must 
 pay the men. I may need something on the stock- 
 market. If I go in on this thing, I'm going in for 
 keeps. I'll get after those fellows who have beea 
 
 403
 
 404 THE bLAZED TRAIL 
 
 swindling Wallace. Say a hundred thousand dol- 
 lars." 
 
 " Why, it's nothing," she cried. 
 
 ** I'm glad you think so," he replied grimly. 
 
 She ran to her dainty escritoire, where she scribbled 
 eagerly for a few moments. 
 
 " There," she cried, her eyes shining, " there is my 
 check book all signed in blank. I'll see that the 
 money is there.'* 
 
 Thorpe took the book, staring at it with sightless 
 eyes. Hilda, perched on the arm of his chair, watched 
 his face closely, as later became her habit of interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. 
 
 Thorpe looked up with a pitiful little smile that 
 seemed to beg indulgence for what he was about to 
 say. 
 
 " I was just thinking, dear. I used to imagine I was 
 a strong man, yet see how little my best efforts amount 
 to. I have put myself into seven years of the hardest 
 labor, working like ten men in order to succeed. I 
 have foreseen all that mortal could foresee. I have 
 always thought, and think now, that a man is no man 
 unless he works out the sort of success for which he is 
 fitted. I have done fairly well until the crises came. 
 Then I have been absolutely powerless, and if left to 
 myself, I would have failed. At the times when a 
 really strong man would have used effectively the 
 strength he had been training, I have fallen back mis- 
 erably on outer aid. Three times my affairs have be- 
 come critical. In the crises I have been saved, first 
 by a mere boy ; then by an old illiterate man ; now by a 
 weak woman 1 " 
 
 She heard him through in silence. 
 
 " Harry," she said soberly when he had quite fin- 
 ished, " I agree with you that God meant the strong 
 man to succeed ; that without success the man has not
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 405 
 
 fulfilled his reason for being. But, Harry, are you 
 quite sure that God meant him to succeed alone f " 
 
 The dusk fell through the little room. Out in the 
 hallway a tall clock ticked solemnly. A noiseless ser- 
 vant appeared in the doorway to light the lamps, but 
 was silently motioned away. 
 
 " I had not thought of that," said Thorpe at last. 
 
 " You men are so selfish," went on Hilda. " You 
 would take everything from us. Why can't you leave 
 us the poor little privilege of the occasional deciding 
 touch, the privilege of succor. It is all that weakness 
 can do for strength." 
 
 " And why," she went on after a moment, " why is 
 not that, too, a part of a man's success the gathering 
 about him of people who can and will supplement his 
 efforts ? Who was it inspired Wallace Carpenter with 
 confidence in an unknown man ? You. What did it? 
 Those very qualities by which you were building your 
 success. Why did John Radway join forces with you ? 
 How does it happen that your men are of so high a 
 standard of efficiency ? Why am I willing to give you 
 everything, everything, to my heart and soul? Be- 
 cause it is you who ask it. Because you, Harry 
 Thorpe, have woven us into your fortune, so that we 
 have no choice. Depend upon us in the crises of your 
 work ! Why, so are you dependent on your ten fin- 
 gers, your eyes, the fiber of your brain ! Do you think 
 the less of your fulfillment for that ? " 
 
 So it was that Hilda Farrand gave her lover confi- 
 dence, brought him out from his fanaticism, launched 
 him afresh into the current of events. He remained 
 in Chicago all that summer, giving orders that all work 
 at the village of Carpenter should cease. With his 
 affairs that summer we have little to do. His com- 
 mon-sense treatment of the stock market, by which a 
 policy of quiescence following an outright buying of 
 the stock which he had previously held on margins.
 
 406 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 retrieved the losses already sustained, and finally put 
 both partners on a firm financial footing. That is an- 
 other story. So too is his reconciliation with and 
 understanding of his sister. It came about through 
 Hilda, of course. Perhaps in the inscrutable way of 
 Providence the estrangement was of benefit, even 
 necessary, for it had thrown him entirely within 
 himself during his militant years. 
 
 Let us rather look to the end of the summer. It 
 now became a question of re-opening the camps. 
 Thorpe wrote to Shearer and Radway, whom he had 
 retained, that he would arrive on Saturday noon, and 
 suggested that the two begin to look about for men. 
 Friday, himself, Wallace Carpenter, Elizabeth Carpen- 
 ter, Morton, Helen Thorpe, and Hilda Farrand bourd- 
 ed the north-bound train.
 
 Chapter LX 
 
 rHE train of the South Shore Railroad shot its 
 way across the broad reaches of the northern 
 peninsula. On either side of the right-of-way 
 lay mystery in the shape of thickets so dense and over- 
 grown that the eye could penetrate them but a few feet 
 at most. Beyond them stood the forests. Thus Nat- 
 ure screened her intimacies from the impertinent eye 
 of a new order of things. 
 
 Thorpe welcomed the smell of the northland. He 
 became almost eager, explaining, indicating to the 
 girl at his side. 
 
 " There is. the Canada balsam," he cried. " Do you 
 remember how I showed it to you first ? And yonder 
 the spruce. How stuck up your teeth were when you 
 tried to chew the gum before it had been heated. Do 
 you remember ? Look ! Look there ! It's a white 
 pine ! Isn't it a grand tree ? It's the finest tree in the 
 forest, by my way of thinking, so tall, so straight, so 
 feathery, and so dignified. See, Hilda, look quick! 
 There's an old logging road all filled with raspberry 
 vines. We'd find lots of partridges there, and perhaps 
 a bear. Wouldn't you just like to walk down it about 
 sunset? " 
 
 " Yes, Harry." 
 
 " I wonder what we're stopping for. Seems to me 
 they are stopping at every squirrel's trail. Oh, this 
 must be Seney. Yes, it is. Queer little place, isn't it ? 
 but sort of attractive. Good deal like our town. You 
 have never seen Carpenter, have you? Location's 
 
 407
 
 408 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 fine, anyway; and to me it's sort of picturesque. 
 You'll like Mrs. Hathaway. She's a buxom, motherly 
 woman who runs the boarding-house for eighty men, 
 and still finds time to mend my clothes for me. And 
 you'll like Solly. Solly's the tug captain, a mighty 
 good fellow, true as a gun barrel. We'll have him take 
 us out, some still day. We'll be there in a few minutes 
 now. See the cranberry marshes. Sometimes there's 
 a good deal of pine on little islands scattered over it, 
 but it's very hard to log, unless you get a good winter. 
 We had just such a proposition when I worked for 
 Radway. Oh, you'll like Radway, he's as good as 
 gold. Helen ! "* 
 
 " Yes," replied his sister. 
 
 " I want you to know Radway. He's the man who 
 gave me my start." 
 
 " All right, Harry," laughed Helen. " I'll meet any- 
 body or anything from bears to Indians." 
 
 " I know an Indian too Geezigut, an Ojibwa 
 we called him Injin Charley. He was my first friend 
 in the north woods. He helped me get my timber. 
 This spring he killed a man a good job, too and 
 is hiding now. I wish I knew where he is. But we'll 
 see him some day. He'll come back when the thing 
 blows over. See ! See ! " 
 
 " What ? " they all asked, breathless. 
 
 " It's gone. Over beyond the hills there I caught 
 a glimpse of Superior." 
 
 " You are ridiculous, Harry," protested Helen 
 Thorpe laughingly. " I never saw you so. You are 
 a regular boy ! " 
 
 " Do you like boys ? " he asked gravely of Hilda. 
 
 " Adore them ! " she cried. 
 
 " All right, I don't care," he answered his sister in 
 triumph. 
 
 The air brakes began to make themselves felt, and 
 shortly the train came to a grinding stop.
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 409 
 
 " What station is this ? " Thorpe asked the colored 
 porter. 
 
 " Shingleville, sah," the latter replied. 
 
 " I thought so. Wallace, when did their mill burn, 
 anyway ? I haven't heard about it." 
 
 " Last spring, about the time you went down." 
 
 " Is that so ? How did it happen ? " 
 
 " They claim incendiarism," parried Wallace cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 Thorpe pondered a moment, then laughed. " I am 
 in the mixed attitude of the small boy," he observed, 
 " who isn't mean enough to wish anybody's property 
 destroyed, but who wishes that if there is a fire, to be 
 where he can see it. I am sorry those fellows had to 
 lose their mill, but it was a good thing for us. The 
 man who set that fire did us a good turn. If it hadn't 
 been for the burning of their mill, they would hav;. 
 made a stronger fight against us in the stock market." 
 
 Wallace and Hilda exchanged glances. The girl 
 was long since aware of the inside history of those 
 days. 
 
 " You'll have to tell them that," she whispered over 
 the back of her seat. " It will please them." 
 
 " Our station is next ! " cried Thorpe, " and it's only 
 a little ways. Come, get ready ! " 
 
 They all crowded into the narrow passage-way near 
 the door, for the train barely paused. 
 
 " All right, sah," said the porter, swinging down his 
 little step. 
 
 Thorpe ran down to help the ladies. He was nearly 
 taken from his feet by a wild-cat yell, and a moment 
 later that result was actually accomplished by a rush 
 of men that tossed him bodily onto its shoulders. At 
 the same moment, the mill and tug whistles began to 
 screech, miscellaneous fire-arms exploded. Even the 
 locomotive engineer, in the spirit of the occasion, 
 leaned down heartily on his whistle rope. The saw-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 dust street was filled with screaming, jostling men. 
 The homes of the town were brilliantly draped with 
 cheesecloth, flags and bunting. 
 
 For a moment Thorpe could not make out what had 
 happened. This turmoil was so different from the 
 dead quiet of desertion he had expected, that he was 
 unable to gather his faculties. All about him were 
 familiar faces upturned to his own. He distinguished 
 the broad, square shoulders of Scotty Parsons, Jack 
 Hyland, Kerlie, Bryan Moloney ; Ellis grinned at him 
 from the press; Billy Camp, the fat and shiny drive 
 cook ; Mason, the foreman of the mill ; over beyond 
 howled Solly, the tug captain, Rollway Charley, 
 Shorty, the chore-boy ; everywhere were features that 
 he knew. As his dimming eyes travelled here and 
 there, one by one the Fighting Forty, the best crew 
 of men ever gathered in the northland, impressed 
 themselves on his consciousness. Saginaw birlers, 
 Flat River drivers, woodsmen from the forests of 
 lower Canada, bully boys out of the Muskegon waters, 
 peavey men from Au Sable, white-water dare-devils 
 from the rapids of the Menominee all were there to 
 do him honor, him in whom they had learned to see 
 the supreme qualities of their calling. On the out- 
 skirts sauntered the tall form of Tim Shearer, a straw 
 peeping from beneath his flax-white mustache, his 
 eyes glimmering under his flax-white eyebrows. He 
 did not evidence as much excitement as the others, 
 but the very bearing of the man expressed the deepest 
 satisfaction. Perhaps he remembered that zero morn- 
 ing so many years before when he had watched the 
 thinly-clad, shivering chore-boy set his face for the 
 first time towards the dark forest. 
 
 Big Junko and Anderson deposited their burden on 
 the raised platform of the office steps. Thorpe turned 
 and fronted the crowd. 
 
 At once pandemonium broke loose, as though the
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 411 
 
 previous performance had been nothing but a low- 
 voiced rehearsal. 
 
 The men looked upon their leader and gave voice 
 to the enthusiasm that was in them. He stood alone 
 there, straight and tall, the muscles of his brown face 
 set to hide his emotion, his head thrust back proudly, 
 the lines of his strong figure tense with power, the 
 glorification in finer matter of the hardy, reliant men 
 who did him honor. 
 
 " Oh, aren't you proud of him ? " gasped Hilda, 
 squeezing Helen's arm with a little sob. 
 
 In a moment Wallace Carpenter, his countenance 
 glowing with pride and pleasure, mounted the plat- 
 form and stood beside his friend, while Morton 
 and the two young ladies stopped half way up the 
 steps. 
 
 At once the racket ceased. Everyone stood at at- 
 tention. 
 
 " Mr. Thorpe," Wallace began, " at the request of 
 your friends here, I have a most pleasant duty to fulfill. 
 They have asked me to tell you how glad they are to 
 see you ; that is surely unnecessary. They have also 
 asked me to congratulate you on having won the fight 
 with our rivals." 
 
 " You done 'em good." " Can't down the Old Fel- 
 low," muttered joyous voices. 
 
 " But," said Wallace, " I think that I first have a 
 story to tell on my own account. 
 
 " At the time the jam broke this spring, we owed 
 the men here for a year's work. At that time I con,- 
 sidered their demand for wages ill-timed and grasp- 
 ing. I wish to apologize. After the money was paid 
 them, instead of scattering, they set to work under 
 Jack" Radway and Tim Shearer to salvage your logs. 
 They have worked long hours all summer. They 
 have invested every cent of their year's earnings in 
 supplies and tools, and now they are prepared to show
 
 412 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 you in the Company's booms, three million feet of 
 logs, rescued by their grit and hard labor from total 
 loss." 
 
 At this point the speaker was interrupted. " Saw 
 off," " Shut up," " Give us a rest," growled the audi- 
 ence. " Three million feet ain't worth talkin' about," 
 " You make me tired," " Say your little say the way 
 you oughter," " Found purty nigh two millions pock- 
 eted on Mare's Island, or we wouldn't a had that 
 much," " Damn-fool undertaking, anyhow." 
 
 " Men," cried Thorpe, " I have been very fortunate. 
 From failure success has come. But never have I 
 been more fortunate than in my friends. The firm is 
 HOW on its feet. It could afford to lose three times 
 the logs it lost this year " 
 
 He paused and scanned their faces. 
 
 " But," he continued suddenly, " it cannot now, nor 
 ever can afford to lose what those three million feet 
 represent, the friends it has made. I can pay you 
 back the money you have spent and the time you have 
 
 put in " Again he looked them over, and then 
 
 for the first time since they have known him his face 
 lighted up with a rare and tender smile of affection. 
 " But, comrades, I shall not offer to do it : the gift is 
 accepted in the spirit with which it was offered " 
 
 He got no further. The air was rent with sound. 
 Even the members of his own party cheered. From 
 every direction the crowd surged inward. The women 
 and Morton were forced up the platform to Thorpe. 
 The latter motioned for silence. 
 
 " Now, boys, we have done it," said he, " and so will 
 go back to work. From now on you are my comrades 
 in the fight." 
 
 His eyes were dim; his breast heaved; his voice 
 shook. Hilda was weeping from excitement. Through 
 the tears she saw them all looking at their leader, and 
 in the worn, hard faces glowed the affection and admi-
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL 
 
 412 
 
 ration of a dog for its master. Something there was 
 especially touching in this, for strong men rarely show 
 it. She felt a great wave of excitement sweep over 
 her. Instantly she was standing by Thorpe, her eyes 
 streaming, her breast throbbing with emotion. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, stretching her arms out to them 
 passionately, " Oh ! I love you ; I love you all 1 " 
 
 THE END
 
 THF. COUXTRY LIFE FKESB 
 GAJU3ES CTTY JJ. T.
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 001 259 602 9