GASTON OLAF HENRY OYEN OP CAT-IT. TJBPAtfY. LOS ANGSTS GASTON OLAF BY HENRY OYEN AUTHOR OF "THE MAN-TRAIL," "THE SNOW-BURNER," ETC. NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, I9l6, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. GASTON OLAF COMES TO HAVENS FALLS . . 9 II. A CHALLENGE 15 III. THE GIRL WITH THE BROWN EYES .... 23 IV. THE TAMING OF RED SHIRT 28 V. DEVIL DAVE TAGGART 35 VI. BROWN EYES CAN BE COLD 44 VII. A MAN'S SIZE JOB 50 VIII. A CROOKED TRAIL 56 IX. "NOT A WHITE MAN'S OUTFIT" 66 X. DEVIL DAVE AT PLAY 73 XI. GASTON BEGINS TO THINK 80 XII. TAGGART'S MAN No LONGER 86 XIII. THE CROOK TRAIL EXPOSED 91 XIV. TAGGART'S SYSTEM 97 XV. GASTON HAS A SCHEME 104 XVI. TOM PINE is PUZZLED 109 XVII. "FOR ROSE HAVENS" 115 XVIII. THE SPRING BREAK-UP 120 XIX. THE TRAP 127 XX. How TAGGART LOST THE DRIVE 132 XXI. "You CAN'T LIVE HERE AFTER THIS" . . . 140 XXII. TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND CASH 149 XXIII. THE MONEY SAVED 156 XXIV. A FRESH START 162 XXV. GASTON'S DREAM 168 XXVI. THE FIRST MARSHAL OF HAVENS FALLS . . . 176 5 2131813 6 CHAPTER XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. Contents TAGGART'S CHANCE 183 SATURDAY NIGHT 189 A FIGHT 197 THE COMING OF LAW AND ORDER .... 206 TAGGART'S DEFIANCE 211 THE POWER OF WOMAN 216 BATTLE 224 G ASTON BUYS STORE CLOTHES 232 A QUIET SUNDAY 238 SETTLING DOWN 243 A STORM BREWING 247 "WAIT, GASTON!" 256 TAGGART STRIKES 264 THE END OF DEVIL DAVE 272 DAYS OF QUIET 281 "THE TRAIL, THE TRAIL!" 288 GASTON OLAF GASTON OLAF CHAPTER I GASTON OLAF COMES TO HAVENS FALLS GASTON OLAF FRANCOIS THORSON, to give him at once his full, complicated name, raced with easy strides of his long skis to the crest of the ridge and stood for a moment against the sky-line, looking down upon the new woods settlement known as Havens Falls. From the tips of his rubber-shod feet, resting lightly on his skis, to the short bronze curls which flamed be- neath his muskrat cap, the six-foot-two of Gaston Olaf was alive to the point of bursting. Though the late Winter morning was raw and cold, he wore no mack- inaw. His blue-flannel shirt, stretching taut across the swell of his chest, was open wide at the top. Cloth and buttons were not made to confine the brown, corded neck that rose like a column above it. Around his waist was wound a silken sash of bright- est red ; his trousers were of softest buckskin, fringed Indian fashion. But it was the size, the build and the reckless bearing of him that would attract attention. Standing with lifted chin there on top of the ridge, with the wind whistling shrilly past him, he was blood- brother to the rough outdoors about him, as big, as free, ay, and as lawless. His grace and elegance of form, so rare in a big man, Gaston had from his 9 io Gaston Olaf French mother, and his huge-boned viking's body had come to him from a giant Norse sire. Withal he was an American, born and reared, and some of his reputa- tion for lawlessness had been made at the expense of men who questioned his nationality. It was his first sight of Havens Falls. As he leaned forward against the ski-straps, peering down at the single street of the settlement, his bright blue eyes snapped with excitement and a boyish grin of reck- less anticipation creased his young, bronzed face. "There she is, Tom Pine! There's our town!" he cried. "Stores, sidewalks, houses, and men and women !" To the world in general, and to the little clump of buildings below in particular, he threw a careless kiss. "Men and women, Tom Pine. Strong men to fight with ; pretty women to laugh with. What more can a man ask Life to give him?" Tom Pine, grizzled of hair, short of stature, but uncannily broad of shoulder and long of arm, drew himself up beside his young partner, carefully belting his mackinaw against the morning wind. In years it was obvious that Tom Pine was twice the age of Gas- ton, but the twinkle in his bright, outdoor eyes told that at heart he was just as young. The settlement lay at their feet in its snug site on a bend in the La Croix River. From where they stood they could look down upon each building in the place and tell by its appearance for what each one stood. Most of the buildings were gathered together at the foot of the ridge, directly below where they stood. There stood the post-office, the hotel, stores and dwell- ing-houses. Farther down there was a gap on the street, and at its lower end, running down to the river front, the street was builded solid on both sides ; each building obviously was a saloon or worse. Havens Comes to Havens Falls II Falls was new, but already it had established standards, distinctions. "Yep a town," agreed Tom Pine curtly. "See how they keep the black sheep and the white separate. That's towns; that's civilisation. I don't like towns, Gaston Olaf. I don't feel safe in 'em. In towns you got to sleep in rooms, with four walls around you, and a roof close above you to shut out the sky. Peo- ple settle down in towns. Gaston Olaf, I'm always afraid that you'n me' 11 go to a town some time and settle down !" Gaston's laugh, a rollicking, hair-trigger laugh, rang out over the bare ridge. "Towns are good places to come to once in a while, Tom Pine," said he. "Have we ever stayed in a town long enough to hurt us?" "Not yet. I admit you that, Gaston Olaf. And I ain't saying towns ain't got their uses, to have a time in, and buy chuck and cartridges in. And I ain't say- ing we wasn't due for a little trip after being in camp six solid months to prove up those timber claims, which is too long for any man living to stay in one spot. But" he shook his head slowly "I don't like the feel of this trip for sour apples. I got an Indian feel- ing, Gaston Olaf. I'm afraid something's going to happen here." Gaston Olaf, as Tom Pine addressed him, looked re- proachfully at his companion. "Tom Pine, how long have we been partners?" he demanded. "Years," Torn nodded. "Go on; I'm listening." "And did you ever know me to go to a town without making something happen ?" "Oh, that. Of course. Man's got to kick up his hind heels a little when he hits a town. But this this ain't that, Gaston Olaf ; no, it ain't." 12 Gaston Olaf "Not that? Hahf I've got it, Tom Pine. It's be- cause of the word this man Taggart sent us word there was good money here for us any time we wanted to work. And you're afraid we'll take a job." "No. 'Tain't that, either. I ain't scared of work, once in a while ; you know that, Gaston Olaf. This this is a reg'lar old Indian feeling, Gaston Olaf. I got a feeling that something different is going to happen here: I don't know what, but something different." " 'Something different' !" Gaston had settled his feet into the straps for the run down the hill. "Let's hope so, Tom Pine. Let's hope and pray you're a good prophet. That's what we're looking for something different. That's what makes life worth living. So come on; let's see Hello!" From the lower end of the street came floating up to them the echoes of a drunken roar. Half a dozen men had come tumbling out of one of the saloons, laughing, singing, cursing, hallooing wildly. Locking arms they came surging up the street, announcing loudly that they were bad men, and spread themselves in a rude semi-circle before the door of the post-office, directly below where Gaston and Tom Pine stood. Gaston's smile of anticipation grew broader, his eyes brighter. "Strong men to fight with, Tom Pine," he said with a wink. "Yes ; and pretty women to look at the pups !" Out of the post-office came a woman. Even from the top of the ridge Gaston could see that she was small, that she was young and trig and neat, and that she tripped lightly down the snow-covered steps on tiny feet. Many things happened in the next few seconds. The girl turned to go her way, and five of the men, holding hands, barred her progress. The sixth, a big man in Comes to Havens Falls 13 a flaming red shirt, stepped forward and attempted to take the girl by the arm. Other things happened instantly upon this. As the girl shrank back a smallish, stockily built man ran bare- headed out of a store across the street, fought his way through the crowd and hurled himself upon the girl's tormentor. The man in the red shirt gave a bellow of rage as the small man staggered him with a blow on the jaw. For a moment, so determined was he, it seemed that the newcomer would triumph. Then the gang bore him down. From the hotel now came flying the splendid figure of a young girl, whose size and blondness shouted her Scandinavian breed even from afar. The big man had slipped an arm about his victim. The crack of the blond Amazon's hand on his cheek caused him to relinquish his hold with one hand and knock her into the street. Then he laughed and drew the small girl toward him. But Fate, busy, inevitable Fate, was sending intervention on wings of speed. Gaston Olaf was half-way down the ridge. Never did Gaston fail in the spectacular. He had started the moment the big man caught the girl by the arm. The snow on the ridge was frozen and he came at express- train speed, silently, unsuspected by those below. Deliberately he steered his course for a boulder near the foot of the hill. Using the boulder as a take-off, he leaped. Upward and outward he flew through the air, standing up taut and straight, arms stretched above his head, the air-splitting ski- jumper at his best. His leap was well-timed. He landed squarely on the big man as he bent over to kiss the struggling girl and flattened him into the snow beneath his skis. "One down!" sang Gaston. His terrific momentum hurtled him on, head over heels, through the air, straight into the midst of the 14 Gaston Olaf five men who had the small man down. Before they could move he struck them, a two-hundred-and-twenty- pound bullet of bone and gristle, flying at the rate of thirty miles an hour. One instant the five were on their victim, like bears upon a fallen wildcat. The next the group of them had split, as if from an explosion, into five separate and distinct parts, each part flying energetically, but helpless in its own distinct and separate direction. "Gangway, please, gangway!" Tom Pine, coursing neatly in Gaston's tracks, found it inconvenient to check himself until he had taken a jump off the red-shirted man's prostrate form, and landed full weight on a pair of the men whom Gaston had knocked into the street. Gaston and Tom Pine, snow-covered and torn, the skis broken to stumps on their feet, brought up sitting, side by side, in the snow. Solemnly they reached out ; solemnly they shook hands. "Tom Pine, my chapeau is off to you," said Gaston. "You are big medicine as a prophet. 'Something dif- ferent,' you said. 'Something different' was right. Never never have we hit a town in this fashion !" But Tom Pine shook his head, mournfully studying the wrecks of his skis. "I'm worried some more, Gaston Olaf," said he. "I believe in signs and, you see, we broke our skis !" G ASTON OLAF sprang to his feet with a laugh, kicking his feet loose from the useless stumps. He was happy ; for the spectacular and dramatic were dear to the French half of his nature. The little man who had come so gallantly and futilely to the girl's rescue lay still in the snow, with his left arm bent back in unpleasant fashion. Gaston gave him scarcely a glance. What was a man more or less ! Men were plentiful. Men lying still after a fight were no novelty to Gaston. Smallish, bareheaded men men who lived in towns and ran stores must expect to get knocked out if they tried to interfere with boys when they were having their fun. But a woman, a young woman, and trig and neat, who tripped lightly on tiny feet, in distress ! Gaston swung around upon her, his most winning smile upon his lips, his lightest words upon the tip of his tongue. And as he faced her a sudden change came upon him. The words did not come. The smile lost much of its assurance. Gaston stood stock-still and stared. He removed his cap and bowed with the grace that he had from his French mother. But the words, the light, pleasant words, which hitherto always had risen to his tongue like a golden stream under the inspiration of a woman's eyes, were not forthcoming. The girl was small, as he had judged from the top 15 16 Gaston Olaf of the hill. To Gaston she seemed wonderfully small and delicate in those rough surroundings. Above her close-buttoned mackinaw her face seemed to Gaston to rise like a frail lily. She was deadly pale, and her wide-set eyes were rilled with terror. Brown eyes they were, wonderful brown eyes. But at each side of her cheeks a tiny ridge of muscle showed how firmly set was her jaw, while her mouth was pursed in a firm line of determination. And, what made Gaston tongue-tied, she was not looking at him. "Oh, you cowards!" she cried, and the five men, rising drunkenly to their feet out in the street, cowered under the lash of womanly scorn and anger in her voice. "You miserable specimens of manhood! Call yourselves men! Five of you on one man, and you struck him when he was down!" The men in the street looked guiltily at the still figure in the snow and began to slink away. "Yes, see what you've done now!" cried the girl. "Isn't it a fine, brave thing to have done! Brave, strong men! Aren't you proud of your work! I should think you would hang your heads in shame. Oh, you cowardly brutes ! You may have killed him." A laugh, bull-throated and unabashed, sounded be- hind her. The man on whom Gaston had jumped was on his feet, miraculously unhurt. He was a big man, tall and broad, but flabby and gross from dissipation. "Fun, little girl, just fun!" he laughed. "Nobody killed; just put out of business for a minute, sweet- heart. Boys will be boys. Now we're going to have out li'l kiss, and then the big bum who jumped me " "Yes?" said Gaston Olaf. The big man stopped. Gaston Olaf was standing before him, his hands resting carelessly on his hips, his head thrown back, lips smiling, eyes happy. Gaston A Challenge 17 ever insisted that he was not an especially courageous man, for, as he explained, when a fight was in prospect, the Berserk strain that he had from his Norse father always asserted itself, and a glow of contentment spread over him, while strange, cheerful music hummed in his ears. Red Shirt's face was convulsed with the sudden, un- reasoning rage of the powerful brute, crossed and de- fied, and mad with the desire to destroy. "You you " His teeth gritted furiously as he lowered his bull- like head f OK. the rush. "My name," laughed Gaston happily, "is Gaston Olaf Frangois Thorson. But I'm American; don't you forget that. I jumped on you. I rubbed your nose in the dirt. I am a better man than you are. You are a big bum ! You are " he searched his fairly full vocabulary for the phrase most hated along the river "you are a high-banker and afraid of white water." Red Shirt looked at him. The rush did not ma- terialise. Gaston Olaf merely stood as he was, his hands on his hips, his lips smiling. But Red Shirt looked above and saw his eyes. "You are going away from here in about two sec- onds," continued Gaston pleasantly. "You are going to take your ugly mug out of this young lady's sight. If you were fit to speak to her I would make you apologise. Now get ready to hike!" Red Shirt looked around. Men were coming out of near-by buildings. In the door of the post-office stood an old man, the postmaster, in G. A. R. blue, with a shotgun in his trembling hands. Red Shirt's lip lifted in a sneer. "You're safe here, Mr. Gasbag Thorson," he growled. "I've heard of you. You play at being a i8 Gaston Olaf bad man. But you wouldn't dast try this down at the other end of the street." The devil flamed up in Gaston. Many men had played with his odd name. Few but had regretted it. Tom Pine saw by the play of cords in his neck how Gaston was holding himself in. "Perhaps not," he said quietly enough. "Perhaps I would not dare to try it down there. But in case I do, who should I ask for, please?" A grin of contempt split the other's evil face. "My name is 'Red Shirt' Murphy," he snarled as he turned away. "Ask anybody in Jack MacCarthy's where I hang out." "Thank you, Mr. Red Shirt Murphy. We shall see. And now travel !" Gaston Olaf bowed mockingly as Red Shirt slouched away, and swung around again to speak to the girl. As a matter of course he knew that he had performed a gallant and striking action ; that for the time being he was a heroic figure. He had played the role of Boss Man often in his varied career, and he knew full well the light in woman's eyes that is the hero's due. Therefore he was shocked when he turned around and found himself still apparently forgotten. The girl was down on her knees in the snow beside the man in the street. She had lifted his head and was holding it up in the hollow of her arm, while with a tiny handkerchief she wiped the blood from the cruelly beaten face. The terror of the moment before, when she had escaped from the brutal Murphy, the relief that had come with Gaston's arrival, the rage that had pinched her mouth as she scolded, all were wiped clean from her face, leaving no trace. In their place had come a look of tenderness, alarm, solicitude, and at the sight of it Gaston Olaf thrilled in a manner that had never A Challenge 19 come to him in a life full of thrills. This was some- thing new, and he suddenly hungered for something he knew not what which his hard life had denied him. Jealousy shot instinctively into his soul as he looked down at her, the instinctive jealousy of the strong male beholding feminine tenderness lavished on another man. And instinctively he fought it back in shame, as a feeling too small, too unsportsmanlike to have room in his nature. Nevertheless, the feeling had been there and it left its mark. "Oh, the brutes, the brutes ! I believe they've killed him!" the girl was sobbing. "Mr. Hale, Dick! He doesn't move. Oh, Hulda, Hulda ! Run anH tell your mother quick! She'll know what to do. And some- body get Dr. Sanders." The yellow-haired Amazon had risen from the snow and stood, arms akimbo, looking down at girl and man, undisturbed, unhurried by the scene. "No; he en't dead, Miss Havens," she said quietly. "He err yoost knock' out. I seen lots o' dem fool man like dat. Dey're alvays fighting, deh big fools. Here come my mooder now. I go tell deh doctor." Out of the hotel whence Hulda had come a frame building bearing a sign "Olson's Hotel" came wad- dling a smiling old woman as broad as Hulda was tall, as white of hair as Hulda was yellow. "Good heavens ! It's Mester Hale !" she cried as she bustled up. "And you, Miss Havens! You shouldn't do dat. You got blood on your vaist, and you catch cold on your lags if you don't gat up right dis minute. Hare, you big man." She nodded to Gaston as if he were only a big boy. "And you, liddle man." She in- dicated Tom Pine. "Vat you standing dare for? You pick him up and carry him in. We tak' care of him, Miss Havens. I tenk his arm err brok', oil right." As she talked she drew the girl up from the snow 2O Gaston Olaf and waved a commanding hand to Gaston and Tom Pine. Gaston pushed Tom away and, stooping low, thrust his long arms through the snow beneath the prostrate form. Then he stood up, bearing the weight of the sturdily built man on his arms, as a woman might bear a child. "Where to, mother?" he said. "You're the Boss Man around here. Why didn't you come out in the first place? One look at that gang and you'd saved this lad rough handling." Mrs. Olson's broad face grew broader still in a grin of delight; but Gaston saw that the girl whom the women called Miss Havens only held up the little man's broken arm. "Yass, yass. It's good to have strong men around some time," said Mrs. Olson. "Come now; follow me." She led the way into the hotel, to a comfortably fitted room on the second floor. The movement has- tened Hale's returning consciousness and as Gaston moved toward the bed he opened his eyes. No groan came from his lips, though the broken bones in his arm grated as they laid him down. He looked quietly around, noted that Miss Havens stood unharmed in the doorway, tried to move his arm, and couldn't, then tightly pressed his lips together and lay without a word staring up at the ceiling, a world of patience in his genial, rounded face, waiting for the doctor. The doctor arrived immediately, taking the stairs two at a time. "What ho, Dick Hale ! What 'a' they been doing to you, young fellow?" he shouted as he came bustling in, a thin, spectacled, Vandyke-bearded man with a wildly coloured waistcoat and a merry twinkle in his eye. His eyes fell upon Gaston. "What ho ! You're the Flying Man, eh? Dropped from the skies on top A Challenge 21 of Red Shirt Murphy. Heard about it. Given a night's sleep to have seen it. Something new, abso- lutely." He was throwing off gloves, cap and overcoat. "Rough-handled you, eh, old dog?" he continued, taking up Hale's arm. "Hm, good enough. Simple fracture. Have you hale, Hale, in a hurry. Mrs. Olson, get some whisky. No, stop; I forgot. Hale doesn't use the vile stuff. I'll give him something else. But you can get me some nice, clean bandages, Mrs. Olson. Hulda magnificent white and gold Norse Valkyrie that you are you run downstairs and get hot water. Miss Havens, I believe I'd step out of the room for a few minutes. Hm. Put your big arm under his back there, Mister. That's right. Now you can go, too, Big Man; too big for a sick-room. See you later, I hope. Like to talk to you. S'long." "Hold on," groaned Hale suddenly, as Gaston moved away. "Come to my dance to-night. Store across street. My arm be a man short. Take my place. Coming?" "Sure," replied Gaston. Tom Pine was waiting anxiously as Gaston stepped out of the hotel. "Gaston Gaston Olaf," he said tremulously, "let's travel. The signs are getting thicker. There you was, Gaston Olaf, doing woman's work with a woman to boss you. Tick him up,' sez the woman, and you picked him up. 'Carry him in,' she sez, and you car- ried. Tamed like, just like men who live in towns have got to do a woman to boss you! Gaston Gaston Olaf, let's hit the trail." Gaston shook his head. He did not laugh; a bad sign. Tom Pine looked wistfully back toward the free, unhoused wilderness whence they had come. "Gaston Olaf look at her!" He waved his hand 22 Gaston Olaf toward the forest that ringed the town around. "That's the place for us, boy. No women out there. Look! We can hit that trail that runs 'round the shoulder of the hog-back yonder. Once we're t'other side of the hill, we're shet of this town; we can streak it for the bush; we're safe. Come on, Gaston Olaf. I had the Indian feeling about this place when we started for it, and what's happened since we been here, has made me see that the signs read true. Let's sneak, Gaston Olaf; let's sneak before it's too late." Gaston shook his head, smiling tolerantly. "What about this Red Shirt man ?" he asked. Tom Pine nodded regretfully. "That's so. W T e ought to clean him up before we go. Sure." "What about this Taggart man who wants to see us?" "Well, let's see him and get it over with." "And and " Gaston stopped abruptly and whirled around at the sound of a light footfall behind him. Tom Pine groaned. "Too late!" he murmured under his breath. Miss Havens had come out of the hotel and was holding her hand out to Gaston Olaf. CHAPTER III THE GIRL WITH THE BROWN EYES I DON'T want you to think because I'm tardy in saying 'thanks' that I'm not grateful to you, Mr. Thorson," she said. "I was so concerned about poor Mr. Hale that I forgot everything else. I appreciate very much what you did." She halted. For the first time she was looking at him comprehensively, and few women could look upon Gaston Olaf as he stood then, a master woodsman, hardened and tough, yet with something winningly boylike about him, without pausing in appreciation. And Miss Havens, from the crown of dark hair on her head to her tiny feet, was as much a woman as Gaston was a man. Gaston took the proffered hand timidly. It lay for a second, small and white, in his huge bronze paw, he scarcely daring to touch it for fear of crushing it. Then it was gone, but the touch of it remained for long after. For a moment they stood silent, a study in con- trasts, the man, as hard and rugged as any pine in the forest, the girl delicately feminine, a creature of softness, tenderness. And the morning sun flickered in their eyes, and they were young. "I want to thank you for what you did," she con- cluded a little lamely. "I I feel under obligation to you." Gaston Olaf's tongue loosened. His gay, boyish laughter rang promptly upon her words. 23 24 Gaston Olaf "You feel under obligation to me, Miss Havens? No, no, no! The truth must out. I'm the one who is under obligation to you. You do not understand how that is? I will explain. My partner, Tom Pine the small, tough-looking man there and myself have been in the bush for six solid months. Six months, Miss Havens, one hundred and eighty days! Not in a camp where there are other men, where things may happen. No ; we have been alone, by our- selves, in our two little cabins on a couple of timber claims we are proving up over on Otter Creek. There we have stayed, six months, with the trees for com- pany by day, the wolves, stars, bobcats, by night. Good enough company, too, Miss Havens, for six months. But no longer. "Six months is the limit. Then a man begins to yearn for his own. He wants to see other men, talk to them see women, if he is lucky. Tom Pine and I come to Havens Falls. We want to see other people. We need to have something happen or we'll bust. We stand up there on the ridge and look down. We won- der if anything will happen in Havens Falls. Does it? "Miss Havens, as we're standing up there, those boys begin to get impolite to you. What more could we wish ? Tom Pine and I, we slide down and bump right into excitement fine, juicy excitement and now now I have the privilege of meeting and talking with you. 'Obligations !' Miss Havens, I must thank you for the trea^that you have given a poor, lonely man from the woods." He laughed as he completed his swiftly uttered speech, and the infectious gaiety and youth of his merriment caught her up and she laughed with him. "You look at it in a strange way," she said. "I never fancied any one would take that point of view." "Exactly. There is a difference in our points of The Girl with the Brown Eyes 25 view. You live in town; I live in the woods. Men get queer ideas in the woods. For instance, they think that towns are good places to avoid, except when in need of provisions." "That's right," interrupted Tom Pine. "They are !" Again Gaston laughed and again the girl joined in. "You see, Miss Havens ? Tom Pine there is a regu- lar old wood-tick. He's actually afraid when he is in town, afraid something terrible will happen." "That's right." Tom Pine's voice was grimmer than ever. "Towns is where they does happen." "For instance, when we came here he was afraid that the worst thing in the world would happen to us." "In Havens Falls?" she said. "Well, it is getting to be a very rough town." "Oh, no, no, no, Miss Havens! It wasn't anything like that that Tom Pine was afraid of." "What was it, then?" "Guess." "No. I'd never guess. I'm afraid our points of view are too different." Gaston's face grew deep with mock gravity. "He was afraid," he said slowly, solemnly, "he was afraid that we might settle down here and stay!" Her laughter, to Gaston, rang out like the tinkling of a fine silver bell. "Oh dear! As terrible as that? And you do you share Mr. Pine's fears?" Gaston did not reply at once. He looked around him at the squat houses, the frame stores, the side- walks, at the river and the timber beyond, and his eyes came back to the girl's. "I am a roamer, Miss Havens," said he. "I've got the restless feet that won't let a man stop long enough in any one place to get rooted. I've never stayed in any town I've been in any longer than I could help." 26 Gaston Olaf Again he looked around. "But this seems to be dif- ferent," he said. "I suppose a man has to settle down sometime. Maybe I don't know maybe Tom Pine is right." With a laugh he pointed out into the street where the broken stumps of his skis were sticking in the snow. "You see, Miss Havens, I broke my skis here." "But I suppose you can make new ones?" she said. "You bet!" snapped Tom Pine. "I'm the best ski- maker in this country." "A man can make skis, or do anything else, if he really wants to," said Gaston. "Can he?" she said, with a glance at the lower end of the street. "Then I wish I were a man. I'd make Havens Falls fit for decent people to live in." She began to move away toward a substantial frame house in a fenced yard beyond the post-office. "There is poor Mr. Hale," she said, pausing. "He's just completed his store building and is to give a dance this evening to celebrate it, and here they disable him." "Boys will be boys, Miss Havens. Especially in a settlement that's still got the bark on." "Of course. But it isn't necessary for them to be such utter brutes as this last gang of outsiders has shown themselves to be." "Oh." Gaston's eyes widened. "Outsiders, are they? And there's going to be a dance in the new store to-night ? Oh, ho! Miss Havens, are you going to grace the gay and festive occasion with your pres- ence?" "I am going to be there, yes," she laughed. Then over her shoulder she asked, "Why?" "Because," said Gaston seriously, "that being the The Girl with the Brown Eyes 27 case I have got to get a shave, and a boiled shirt, and some new shoes, and dress up." "You're coming, too?" "Hale just invited me. I am." She paused a distance away and looked at him. "You might," she said merrily, "get a shave, but please please don't dress up!" Gaston scratched his chin dubiously as he watched her go. "What did she mean by that, d'you s'pose, Tom?" But Tom Pine deigned not to reply; only spat dis- gustedly into the snow. "Now you've done it, Gaston Olaf," he grumbled. "You always was a fool for hunting trouble." CHAPTER IV WHAT ho, gents! Looking over our fair young village?" The irrepressible doctor was beam- ing on them from the doorway of the hotel. "Take a good look at her. You see before you the peerless Queen City of the great North Woods in embryo. Small and sordid to look upon now, gents, but, I pray you, let your imagination soar. See, instead of the crude board and log shanties, a street of brick and stone. See, instead of saloons, honky-tonks and gambling-houses schools, churches, banks, and mil- linery shops. Instead of a couple of hundred inhabi- tants, see thousands; instead of hm, hm! Rather hard on the imagination, seeing so much on a dry stomach. If you'll step across the street to my palatial office I'll hurl a shot of hooch into you that I'll guar- antee won't give you the snakes under twenty drinks. Come along. I pine for your ruffianly company." He led the way to a two-room frame building op- posite. The first room was fitted out as a doctor's office, cleanly, pleasant, severe; but the room behind, whither he ushered Gaston and Tom Pine, betrayed the doctor's true character. A bow-legged bulldog leaped truculently from a cot- bed to welcome them. In reprimand the doctor picked up a boxing-glove from a chair and smote the dog across the nose. The walls of the room were hung with guns, fishing-rods, boxing pictures, deer-heads and mounted fish. Books lay scattered about pro- 28 The Taming of Red Shirt 29 miscuously, and the reek of tobacco smoke hung thick over all. "Now then, Big Fellow," said the doctor briskly, when the drinks had been poured and consumed, "do you do those long-distance jumps onto a bad man's head as a regular thing, or was this merely a special occasion? Sing me the saga of what happened out there in front of the post-office. I try not to miss anything as good as that, but Fate was ag'in' me this time. I didn't see a thing." "No," said Gaston, "you will answer my questions first: Who is the young lady, Miss Havens?" The doctor bowed. " 'Young lady' is right. Miss Havens is you've heard of old 'Lone Camp' Havens? Yep? He was the old-timer who cruised this country first of all. Made this settlement. Tried to get hold of the timber around. Did get hold of some. LaCroix Logging Company froze him out of most of it. When he died he left a few houses, a few acres of town-site along the river here, and one good bunch of white pine up the river, ten, twelve miles away, on Loon Lake. Well, Miss Havens is the old man's daughter. Away at school when the old gent died. Came back. Settled down. LaCroix Company tried to buy her out for about four cents on the dollar's worth. She wouldn't sell. There you are. Angel of the settlement; you know what I mean." Gaston nodded. "Do you know of a man named Taggart?" "LaCroix Logging Company that's Taggart 'Devil Dave' Taggart. Office down by his mill on the river." "And Red Shirt Murphy?" The doctor spat. "That big bum! Jail-rat, I should judge. Came up 30 Gaston Olaf with a gang about a week ago. Going to a new camp up the river. All outsiders. All got on a drunk. Been ripping the shirt off the back of the town ever since they've been here. Made a bet he'd kiss Miss Havens before he left town. Bah !" Gaston was on his feet. "Where's Jack MacCarthy's place?" he asked quietly. The doctor rose also. "Down the street; the biggest place here," he said, puzzled. "That's where Murphy hangs out." "So long," said Gaston as he started out. "Oh, no," said the doctor. "I'm coming, too." With a song on his lips Gaston hurried down the street to the long frame building bearing the sign: "Jack MacCarthy's Saloon." Still humming, he en- tered the barroom, which was well filled. He walked straight up to the bar and threw up a dollar. "A drink of liquor," he said loudly, "and be sure it isn't out of the bottle that you give that high-banker, Mr. Red Shirt Murphy." For a space of seconds the room was still. Then from the end of the bar came a throaty bellow. "You come for it, did you, Mr. Gasbag Thorson?" growled Murphy, as he stepped forth from his crowd and threw off his mackinaw. "All right; you're going to get what you come after." Gaston turned, a glassful of fiery liquor in his hand. "Why, there's the high-banker now," he laughed. "Here, Mr. Murphy, have a drink," and he hurled the liquor straight into Murphy's lowering face. Turmoil broke loose. Half a dozen men leaped to- ward him. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Dr. Sander's bantering The Taming of Red Shirt 31 voice rose above the noise. "Fair play, fair play ! We do not conduct affairs between gentlemen in this man- ner." He advanced from the doorway to the centre of the room. "The difficulty lies between these two gentlemen ; nobody else has any share in it. Mr. Mac- Carthy, I hope you agree?" Behind the bar the puff- faced MacCarthy looked Gaston over and nodded. "The doc's right. It's the two av 'em for it. Clear the floor, the rest of you there ! Give 'em all the room they want." "I thank you, Mr. MacCarthy." The doctor bowed lightly and produced a split-second watch. "The fight will be conducted regularly, three-minute rounds, one- minute intervals. Anything goes but knives, axes, guns, and other ungentlemanly impedimenta. Gentle- men, are you ready?" "Ready !" laughed Gaston ; he was leaning carelessly with his back against the bar. "Ready!" growled Murphy. "Time!" cried the doctor, and with the word Mur- phy rushed. Gaston did not move until Murphy was within strik- ing distance; then only the leap of the wildcat would have matched him for swiftness, the might of a bear for power. He caught Murphy about the middle. In a fury he heaved him up over his head and let him fall. Then he stepped back to the bar. Murphy strove to arise. A groan escaped his lips and he collapsed. The doctor stepped forward and bent over him. A moment later he looked up. "The fight is over, gentlemen, and Mr. Thorson wins," he said. "Some of you fellows who' re friends of Murphy pick him up. We've got to put him to bed ; his collar-bone's broken." 32 Gaston Olaf "The right one, isn't it, doc ?" asked Gaston. "Yes. Snapped clean." Gaston looked around at the hard eyes that were regarding him truculently. "It was his right arm that Murphy put around Miss Havens," he said. "Anybody else want to give me a chance to show that trick?" Even the doctor stared. "Hm, hm! I see. Pretty rough work, Big Man. Little disappointed myself. Hoped we'd see a nice little mill with the maulies. Like to have you show me that throw, though, later on." "I will show it now if any of Mr. Murphy's friends want revenge," said Gaston. "What! Nobody? All right; think it over. Any time any of you change your minds you can find me. I will always be ready to oblige." With Tom Pine following, he walked out, paying no more attention to the glowering crowd than if it was so much furniture. "Gripes, Gaston Olaf !" gasped Tom Pine when they were out in the street. "That was the fiercest I ever see you tackle a man yet. I never see you mad yet don't know if you really can get mad like other folks but if I didn't know you so well, I'd say you was mad when you took hold of him." Gaston shook his head seriously. "Tom Pine," said he, "I sort of take to this settle- ment. I like the people here. I like the way things happen. We've had excitement. 'Something differ- ent.' Life has been worth living every second since we came into town. I don't know but what we'll make camp and stay awhile." "That ain't news to me, Gaston Olaf. I knowed we was going to do that for some time." "Well, Tom Pine, I'm a peace-loving man." The Taming of Red Shirt 33 Tom Pine made queer noises in his throat, indicating that he was suppressing a chuckle. "I am," insisted Gaston. "I don't like to keep fight- ing all the time." "Not all the time; I admit you that, Gaston Olaf. Unless a man thinks out loud that he's as good a man as you are, you don't want to fight him ; I'll admit you that." "There's a whole lot of hard men in this settlement; you can see that," continued Gaston. "Well, I don't want to be fighting 'em all. And I don't think after this I'll have to, eh, Tom Pine ?" "Perhaps." Tom Pine looked at his partner out of the corner of one eye. "And was that why you was so rough with this Murphy was that the whole rea- son why?" Gaston looked dreamily up the street. "He was like a baby in my hands, wasn't he, Tom Pine?" he said vaguely. "Just like a little toy. I felt as if I exploded when I laid hands on him. His arm curved out to get me, and I saw him just as we saw him first when he was trying to take hold of the girl, back there at the foot of the hill. I heaved up on him. Tom Pine, I swear I didn't feel his weight at all. He was nothing. I let him fall. His neck or his shoulder blade, I didn't care. The dirty, drunken bum! He dared to try to kiss that girl !" "He'll have it in for you," said Tom drily. "The others may be scared off; he'll remember. He's kind of a hard one. You can see it in his eye." Gaston came out of his mood of abstraction with a start. "What? Oh, yes, sure. But he won't be fit for rough work for some time. Now, let's look up this Taggart." As they looked around, a soft-footed young Indian 34 Gaston Olaf came like a shadow out of MacCarthy's place, slipped past them and glided away toward the mill buildings on the water-front. "Hello! Look at that. That's where we want to go, too." The Indian had slipped swiftly into a small log building standing by itself on the river-bank and bear- ing a sign : "LaCroix Logging Company, Office." Save that it was more carefully and strongly put together, the office building might have been a cabin in the woods. Its walls were made of thick logs, care- fully hewed and fitted. Four small windows, one in each wall, served to let in the light, and in the heavy timber door a tiny pane of glass, high up, looked down the street of the settlement like a single vigilant eye. Tom Pine cocked his head shrewdly as they ap- proached and surveyed the building. "Gaston Olaf," he said quizzically, "d'you know what that looks like to me? Looks like a little fort. Look how it stands right out there by itself on the river. Two men with Winchesters and plenty of cart- ridges could stand off this whole settlement if they had nerve. You can tell a man by his shanty, Gaston Olaf, as you know; but I'll be shot if I can figger the breed of the guy who dens up here." The door opened slightly as they stood there, the Indian slipped out, and the door closed swiftly behind him. "How, Charley?" greeted Gaston. "Man named Taggart camping here?" "Mebbe so," grunted the Indian and passed by with- out looking up. "Come on," said Gaston, "we can make a good Injun out o' him later on," and he pushed open the door. CHAPTER V DEVIL DAVE TAGGART A THIN voice greeted them promptly. "If you're coming in, come in and close the door." Gaston looked in the direction from whence came the voice and in a poorly lighted corner of the poorly lighted room made out a skull-capped head bent over a rude desk. "You wish to see " The voice was almost servile. The head did not lift itself at their entrance. Its owner was busy with pencil and paper. "A man named Taggart," replied Gaston. "Yes, yes. Exactly. And you wish to see Mr. Tag- gart about " Still the skull-cap stared Gaston in the face. Gaston bridled a little. He was not accustomed to the usages of the business world, nor to having un- derlings stop and question him when he sought to see any man, no matter what his position. For a moment he stood staring at the skull-cap, then his voice rattled the windows. "I want to kiss him!" he roared. "What did you s'pose I wanted of him?" The skull-cap went up ; the pencil ceased scribbling. Gaston saw a large, roughly bearded face standing out of the half-light. A pair of tiny eyes were boring him through, and through the heavy moustache around the man's mouth he caught the gleam of two fang-like 35 36 Gaston Olaf teeth. He saw now that the man's head was huge, that it was sunken down on a pair of painfully bowed shoulders. The man, although seated cramped at a desk, seemed to grow as he looked at him. At first he had judged him a thin-chested indoor man. Now he saw that he was enormously thick through the body, and that for a moment the power of him seemed to fill the room. "I am Taggart," said the man meekly, and collapsed into his former position. Gaston blinked. He felt that his first impression must have been right; the man was small and weedy. He wore a long frock-coat. No one but an indoor man would wear such a coat. "My name is Thorson," said Gaston. "Yes, yes." The man did not look up. "I have heard of you. I have heard of some of your your playful little ways, let us say. I have often thought that we could be useful to each other. I have things to be done, sometimes, that require men of your cali- bre men who are untamed, without respect for the law, and " He looked up suddenly, and again Gaston felt the blinding power of those half-hid eyes. "You have considerable reputation for roughness, Mr. Thorson." "Perhaps," replied Gaston. "What of it?" Taggart coughed feebly. "I have taken the trouble," he said in his thinnest voice, "to assure myself that your reputation is, in this respect, based on fact." Again he coughed, pushing his chair back weakly. "You see, I am no child myself," he whined, and stood up, a red-grey bearded giant, in spite of his min- isterial frock-coat. For a few seconds he stood thus, a grotesquely huge, Devil Dave Taggart 37 gnarled figure, filling his corner of the room, and then with a faint cough, he subsided into his chair. "Mr. Thorson," he resumed, "do you realise that this country about here is in danger of becoming too too, shall we say too civilised for real, true men of the woods to live in ? We are at sort of a crisis here. Set- tlers, towns, and even railroads threaten to come into the district. Men of the old kind will be driven out. The country will become as tame as a back yard unless the people who seek to make it so are er discour- aged." "Run 'em out," said Gaston carelessly. " 'Tisn't the first place where it's been done. Those fellows wouldn't leave any free woods if they had their way about it." Taggart lifted his head and smiled. "And does your partner " He nodded at Tom Pine. "Same here," said Tom. "We're partners." Taggart nodded. "Well, then, gentlemen, we agree on that, as I knew we would, having taken the precaution to investigate your reputation for er for not being tame." His manner suddenly changed. "However, I am slightly disappointed in you, Mr. Thorson," he continued in his thin voice. "Brawling, fighting, frequenting saloons such things are very distasteful to me." Gaston took a sudden step forward. "Mr. Taggart, with your nice black coat, you can keep that kind of talk behind your bristly old beard. I didn't come here to find out whether you liked my style or not. I don't care a hoot whether you do. And I'll let you know that that kind of talk doesn't go with me." Taggart's teeth showed in a satisfied smile. "Yes, yes. I understand. Youth, high spirits; yes, yes. Nevertheless, it is sinful, very sinful. And 38 Gaston Olaf wasteful, wasteful of good material. Mr. Thorson, you have just seriously damaged one of my camp fore- men, very seriously damaged him. In fact, from what I hear, he is for the time being a total loss." "You've heard of that? Why, it just happened. Oh, that Indian " "Yes, yes. I through my friends I manage to hear of most things that happen in this settlement as immediately afterward as may be. I also know of how you arrived in town. I commend you for your action in saving Miss Havens from the the rough humour of intoxicated men. "It is distressing to think of the roughness and care- lessness of some of the men about here, particularly of this crew which I am sending to my new camp. They are a rather rougher outfit than ordinary. I have no doubt that I shall have trouble finding a man who is man enough to get them out of town, get them into camp and start them working. They are rather hard to control. Yes, I doubt if there is a man to be found about here who is man enough for the task now that Murphy is disabled." Gaston's neck began to swell. This man was play- ing with him, taunting him, the cock o' the woods ! "Mr. Taggart," he said in his best manner, "if this Murphy was so valuable to you, you should have kept him wrapped up carefully, so a real man couldn't lay hands on him and bust him up." Taggart wagged his head, smiling the smile that showed the two fang-like teeth. "Perhaps in a wrestling match, Mr. Thorson, you were his master," he whined. "Boys' play, horse- play. But handling a crew that is on a spree, handling two dozen big rough men, that's a different matter, very, very different, indeed." "Do you mean to say that I that I can't do it?" Devil Dave Taggart 39 Taggart wagged his head, still smiling. The smile ate into Gaston' s heart. It seemed to search out his very soul, to weigh him to the marrow of his bones, and to find him ridiculously, boyishly wanting. It seemed to him that this old man before him was chipping inches off his stature, was softening the metal of his manhood, was making him feel small. For the moment he forgot everything else ; he even for- got the girl. This was the challenge; the primordial taunt which roused him as the lightning flash rouses thunder. "Don't you think I'm man enough for your job?" he demanded. "Oh, I don't say that, Mr. Thorson. I had not con- sidered you as a possible successor to Murphy. No, no. This task I had Murphy selected for it." "And I broke Murphy like a boy, between my two bare hands," said Gaston. "Do you still say I can not do what he could?" Taggart looked at him suddenly. "Do you think you can?" he said in a fuller voice. "That's the question." Gaston struck the desk. "Can I do it ? Is it in me ? Here are two dozen hard men the hardest I've ever seen in the woods. They hate me because I broke their leader and gave them the dare which they didn't take up. They're drink- ing, and they don't want to leave town. They would be ready to smash up any man who tried to take them to camp now. And there isn't probably one of them who wouldn't knife me if he had the chance. "What will happen when they see that I'm the man who is going to yank them away from their whisky and put them in camp? What will they do? What will I do? That's the question. That's what draws me, Mr. Taggart. Not the chance of a job, but that. It's a challenge; it's a temptation to try, and I'm 40 Gaston Olaf strong against everything but that kind of temptation. You ask me : 'Do you think you can ?' I reply, 'Give me the job.' ' The skull-cap went down over the desk. "All right." The pencil was busy on the paper. "You may try. The camp is ready. Camp Nine, a new camp, eight miles up the river on You don't know the country up there, do you?" "Never been up there." "Yes, yes, so I understood. This new camp is eight miles up the river eight miles on Thunder Lake. Ever hear of Thunder Lake? No; it's a small lake, eight miles away. It's Norway pine we're cutting up there ; a small job; early drive. The camp is all ready, grub, tools and horses. All you have to do is to get the men up there you'll find a working boss there; he'll put 'em to work. You're to get them up there and keep them at it. The sleighs are ready to haul the men out any time you wish to start. Your wages " "Ptt! Do you think I do this for money for money alone?" "For what, then?" "For the fun of doing it for fun." "Your wages will be a hundred dollars a month," said Taggart, adding drily, "if you're able to come back and collect it. That's big wages for light work. The working boss at Camp Nine gets only eighty. That's just the figure that your job is worth, too. You will be paid the extra twenty dollars in order to make it to your interest to do one certain thing and do it well." "What's that?" "Keep your mouth shut. Keep it shut first, last and all the time! Keep it shut about Camp Nine. And if you absolutely have got to talk about Camp Nine, re- member only this : it's on Thunder Lake and only eight miles away from the settlement ; it's Norway pine that Devil Dave Taggart 41 we're cutting, and there's only a small batch of it." The skull-cap flew up and Taggart was smiling ge- nially. "To tell the truth, Mr. Thorson, I've heard a lot about you. I've often wanted to get you on my pay- roll. I I often have wanted a man like you who is not not softened by civilisation, or bothered about laws, or any of that silly stuff; a man who makes his own laws. That's what I do, and I understand you do, too. Well, Thorson, you're a young man. I'm a powerful one. I've got a one-hand grip on this coun- try around here, and I want to make it two-handed. A lot of small people are trying to keep me from doing it dirty little squatters and settlers and so on. I am not a man of violence, Thorson. Conflict is distasteful to me. But you ah, well, we shall see how you make out on your first task. But remember that the young man who makes himself David Taggart' s fighting man will be one of the big men, one of the rich men of this country. Now, here is a list of the names of the men who are to go to Camp Nine. You can get sleighs take two of them any time you order them over at the company's barns. Can you start at once ?" "No," said Gaston, "I have decided to take in the dance here to-night first." The skull-cap dropped again. Taggart shook his head. "Ah, yes," he whined. "I have heard there is to be a dance. I do not approve of such frivolity. Harm- less enough in itself, I have no doubt, but I fear it is only the stepping-stone to great sins and evils. You " "I will have the men in camp to-morrow morning," interrupted Gaston. "Is that good enough for you?" The skull-cap nodded. "And remember," came the whining voice, "Camp 42 Gaston Olaf Nine is on Thunder Lake, eight miles out, and we're cutting Norway pine." Gaston drew in a long, hungry breath as he stepped out into the bright light of day. He looked at Tom Pine. Tom Pine shivered. "That's just the way I feel, too," laughed Gaston. "Whew! That man tired me more than a day and night on a rough trail. He's an old swamp auger if there ever was one. Bores right into you and sucks the steam out of you and grins a little to let you know that he knows just how small you feel." "I need a drink," said Tom Pine. "Come on. That doctor's stufFll be about the right medicine." They found the doctor waiting for them in his office. "What ho, busy gents! You fellows don't waste time, do you? Come into town on the jump; knock over one of our bad citizens ; give a little first aid to the injured; take a drink; waltz out; break the bad citizen's collar-bone ; and stroll down and call on 'Devil Dave' Taggart just as if nothing had happened. Boys, I like you. I like the clip you travel at. Let us re- treat from the prying public eye and introduce into our systems a little of that justly celebrated poisonous, irritating, habit-forming drug called 'hooch.' ' "We sure need it," admitted Tom Pine. "Most people do after talking with Dave Taggart," chuckled the doctor as he led the way into the back room and produced the bottle. "See little Samson there?" He pointed to the big bulldog which came waddling to greet them. "Doesn't look like a party that anything would set back much, does he? Well, little Samson met Taggart one bright Sunday morn- ing when they were both feeling fine, and Samson growled and showed his teeth. Taggart looked at him. Samson came home, tail between his legs, whining. Here's how, boys. And, say, talking about drinking, Devil Dave Taggart 43 and women, that man Taggart he's the champion. Sprees about once a month. Awful! What'd he do to you?" Gaston replied merely that he had been engaged to take Murphy's crew out to camp. "Glorious gobs of joy! When are you going to start 'em? Don't let me miss it, will you? Man, you're taking your life in your hands. Guess that doesn't bother you, though, eh? When does the riot take place?" "After the dance to-night." "Hm, hm ! The dance. I see. Well, I'd feel more confident that there was going to be a dance to-night if you'd told me that gang was going out before the dance." "Why so?" "Because hm, hm that bunch they're talking- they're going to come and break it up." Gaston smiled. "Oh, that'll be all right," he said. "Say, Doc, let me use your razor." CHAPTER VI BROWN EYES CAN BE COLD NEXT to a fight Gaston probably loved a dance above other things to be had in towns. Just as the shock of breast against breast in desperate battle woke within him the raging, tearing joy of the fight- ing man, so the strains of music, the sight of beam- ing eyes of young women, the sound of their laughter, the touch of their hands, stirred a strain in him which brought music to his laughing soul. Then he relaxed. His eyes grew dreamy. He was an altogether different Gaston Olaf from the one who man-handled his fellow men on the slightest invita- tion. He danced as might have been expected of him, with a lightness and grace that made his partner the envied of all women who beheld them. The woman who had Gaston Olaf for a partner counted herself fortunate; and Gaston did his best to dance with them all. His reputation, his good looks, his ability as a dancer made him the hero of every dance he attended, and Gaston knew it. He knew what to expect as a mat- ter of course when he entered a dance floor, and the bright, admiring looks from women's eyes were as light wine to him. Those looks never seriously turned his head, yet without them an evening to him would have been a failure. Gaston Olaf went to the dance in Hale's new store in the mood that was customary to him in approach- 44 Brown Eyes Can Be Cold 45 ing a dance. He did not enter until a lull in the danc- ing, when the dancers were waiting expectantly. The crowd perhaps a dozen women and girls and fewer men looked up at him as he came in. They did not rush forward to greet him; they did not cry out his name ; even the women did not smile ! Gaston stopped. He saw Dr. Sanders chatting with Hulda ; Hale, also, he saw. His eyes ran around the crowd and picked out Miss Havens. A little gasp of delight escaped Gas- ton at the sight of her. He had often dreamed of beautiful women beautifully arrayed, and now his dream had come true. The gown that Rose wore was a simple white party gown, but to Gaston it was a garment of beauty. Her throat was bare and small and round. On her feet glistened tiny slippers. And she was laughing merrily and using her eyes playfully but not for him. At the sight of him she stopped laughing and bowed stiffly. Her warm brown eyes grew cold, and Gaston's gay manner had vanished. He stood looking at her fixedly. The two fiddlers on a platform at the far end of the room laid their bows on the strings. Gas- ton smiled suddenly and crossed the floor to her side. "I see you are not as glad to see me as you were this morning," he said; "but won't you dance one dance this one with me, at least?" She strove to be severe, but the splendid audacity, the bright blue eyes, the flaming youth of the man, brought the light of mischief to her eyes. "You seem confident. Suppose this dance is taken ?" she said. "That means it isn't." "Why, how absurd! You don't know anything about it." She looked up at him and laughed, a little nervously. 46 Gaston Olaf He held out his arm. She looked at his eyes again. "I tell you" The music struck up "Oh, all right." She was in his arms. They were actually dancing together, and she was laughing and conscious that he danced very well. "I'm merely doing it to avoid a scene," she twitted, with a mischievous toss of her head. "I've no doubt that you'd have been rude if I'd refused after what I've heard about you." "Dance!" he laughed. "Let us dance while we're dancing. I see that something is wrong ; I see I'm not wanted here, but let's live in the meantime. Let's en- joy this dance if we never have another." "I am not I'm not accustomed to being treated like this." "I am not accustomed to having girls refuse to dance with me." "Oh, modest man !" "I wouldn't be honest if I pretended to be." "Are you always honest?" "Always except when it is amusing to be some- thing else." "Are you amusing yourself now?" He waited some steps before replying. "All my life I have lived to amuse myself," he whis- pered, his words blending with the scraping of the fid- dles. "Amusement, excitement, thrills, fun! They have been all that have interested me. Never, never, until this morning have I thought that anything else would be worth while." She laughed shortly. "And then you reformed. I heard about you in MacCarthy's saloon." The music stopped. Gaston deliberately led her to a corner where they were alone. Brown Eyes Can Be Cold 47 "Is that it? Is that why you were as warm and friendly as an icicle in your greeting?" "I did not want to seem unfriendly in my greeting," she said bitterly. "I do not want to appear ungrateful for what you did this morning. I am grateful. I feel under obligation to you. But I am disappointed in hearing that you that you well, there is so much brawling, and fighting, and disorder here now that when a new man comes to town and begins " "I see. When he begins to take part in saloon fights " "Why in the world did you do it?" she blazed. "How can you do it? You are a man of intelligence; you're above the sort of men who do such things. Why did you do it?" Gaston looked at her so steadily, so burningly that she shifted her gaze. "Do you want me to tell you why I did it ?" he asked. "Yes. I'd like to hear an apparently intelligent man's reason for creating disorder." "All right then'." His blue eyes burned her, and she was conscious of something in the living, dancing depths of them that stirred her uncomfortably. "I hadn't thought of telling you, but now I will. Murphy dared to put his right arm around you. I picked a fight and broke his right collar-bone so he'd know that was a dangerous thing to do while I am around." "How dared you?" she flared, but his eyes caught hers and held her. He was too strong for her. She wilted and grew confused. "I do not thank you for indulging in a barroom fight on my account," she said, looking away. "I it dis- gusts me. I sincerely hope, if that is your kind if you are going to add to the trouble we have had here that you will not be stopping long 'in Havens Falls. 48 Gaston Olaf And if you do, I hope you will not intrude yourself on the people who are trying to make the town decent and peaceable enough for decent people to live in." She was gone, and Gaston was left alone, dum- founded. Hale, his arm in a sling, and his square, sober face genial in spite of its disfiguration, and Dr. Sanders came up to him. Hale held out his left hand. "I'm much obliged for this morning, Thorson," he said quietly. "I'll remember that." "Just been telling Hale about your job to get that gang out to camp," said Dr. Sanders. "He's kind of puzzled about it. Hale knows the country around here like a book; tramps all over it; says it's got a great future; iron in some of the ridges; brick-clay along the river; and a great farming country all around. But he doesn't know of any Thunder Lake." "But that doesn't say it isn't there," supplemented Hale. "Only, I've never ran across any lake with pine left on it within eight miles of here. Miss Havens has got a nice bunch of white pine up on Loon Lake, but that's twelve miles away, so it couldn't be that." But the blood was pounding in Gaston's temples; his throat was dry with anger. Never in his life had any girl talked to him in this fashion. He scarcely heard what Hale and Sanders were saying. He didn't trouble to hear. She had humiliated him, the proud, the strong Gaston! He tugged at his collar. What mattered it what Hale was saying? What had he to do with these town people? He knew where he belonged; he would go there at once. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, bowing to Hale and Sanders. "I've got work waiting for me." Near the door he stopped before Rose and made a low bow. "Good-bye, Miss Havens," he said. "The brutal, Brown Eyes Can Be Cold 49 disorderly, barroom fighter now goes back to his own kind." "Oh!" The little muscles tightened about her mouth, but her eyes were troubled. "I I never said anything of the sort," she stammered. But Gaston was on his way, striding down the street toward where the red lights, the riot and song, the rattle of pianos, the mad laugh of women, and all the forces of sin and disorder beckoned and threatened. CHAPTER VII A MAN'S SIZE JOB A BLIND man, provided his ears were normal, would not have had the slightest difficulty in realising that something out of the common was brew- ing in Jack MacCarthy's saloon that night as Gaston Olaf came down the street. First, the other saloons in the row were strangely deserted for that time of the night; second, bartenders, gamblers and others, who were unable to leave their places of business, peered from shuttered doors or curtained windows in the di- rection of Jack's ; third, Jack's place was packed with a crowd that was strangely silent. The silence impressed Gaston. It was unnatural. At that time of night MacCarthy's should have been the abode of profane noises. Gaston Olaf directed Tom Pine to hie him hence to the company's stables and order up the two sleighs, and moved silently up to Jack MacCarthy's door. Not a foot was moving inside, not a man was roaring. It was uncanny. Gaston peered over the low green blinds. One of Murphy's companions of the morning, a crop-haired, broken-nosed man, was addressing the roomful of men. Gaston put his ear to the keyhole and listened. "We can get that guy who put the bug on Red Shirt, too," the broken-nosed one was growling. "He's up there at the dance. Make 'em all sick of this burg at the same time. The orders is to clean those good people out so strong that they'll be ready to pack up 50 A Man's Size Job 51 and hike to-morrow. Well, we'll do a little personal job on the side. We'll get that big fresh guy at the same time." "Get him good ! I'll stomp his fresh face in ! Gas- bag Thorson ! If I get a jab at him with my chiv, I'll let the gas out o' him all right !" "All right, then. Now come on. We want to take 'em by surprise. 'Bout four of us'll 'tend to him while the others beats up the rest of them " Gaston slipped in swiftly, closed the door behind him, shot the bolt to, and stood with his back against the door, regarding them with a look of contempt. The leader, who had been near the door, recoiled and drew back; the rest stared, open-mouthed. Gaston, a sneering smile on his lips, took time to let his eyes single out each man in the throng. He saw that there were over twenty men present, and he judged rightly that here was the whole gang of Mur- phy's ruffians assembled. His sneer grew larger as he noted the faces of them. Whisky, dirt, disease, and worse had its mark upon all of them. Their scarred, bloated faces some of them indubitably marked by jail were at home in MacCarthy's; they would have been out of place out in the woods. Gaston looked in vain for the bright, fearless eye, the free swing of the shoulders that marked the true woodsmen. Lumberjacks some of them were, un- doubtedly ; but not one there was who belonged in the woods. Gaston shook his head. He had expected to vent his rage in a fight, but these men weren't worth the trouble. "Of all the low, miserable off-scourings of hell, you are the worst I've ever seen," he said slowly. "How many jails and lodging-house saloons were combed to produce such a bunch of scums? You poor, dirty, 52 Gaston Olaf whisky-soaked saloon sweep-outs! You low-down, rotten, sheriff-dodging, drink-cadging bunch of rats! The best you've got nerve to do is to shove a knife in some lad who's laid out stiff, and you " his voice rose suddenly, like the clang of sharpened steel "and you kid yourselves into talking about getting me!" His eyes again roamed over them, a little flame of fury in them now, and lighted on the gang's leader. The leader was probably ten feet from Gaston. He shivered as Gaston's eyes found him. He wanted to sneak farther back, but those eyes held him. Gaston looked back at the crowd. The leader sighed audibly. "Why, you cheap, city crooks!" Like the flash of something elemental, his eyes still on the crowd, Gaston leaped forward. The gang leader squealed once. Then Gaston was back at the door, and his left hand was holding the man, while his eyes still held the crowd. "If there was a sound man among you " he flung the man aside without looking, as a busy terrier might fling a rat "if you were anything but a bunch of yellow crooks you'd have had me down under your caulks five seconds after I entered this room." The devils of wrath suddenly flamed in him, and he raged across the floor, up and down before them, like a tiger panting to leap upon its prey. "You talk about going up and getting me. I've come after it Come on. It's easy picking. You can't fight, but half of you've got knives. Come on. You've stuck men in the back before. Hop to it! One of you'd have a chance to sneak around on me sure. Grab hold. I wouldn't be able to kick the guts out of over half of you before you'd get me down. Do it now, and get it over with, for, by the Lord! if you ever try it after this and I find it out, I'll hunt the last man of you down and beat his brains out with his own leg. A Man's Size Job 53 "Last call. You'll never hold up your heads to me again if you don't get me now. You'll eat out of my hand. You'll do what I say or I'll put you in the hos- pital. What? Nothing doing?" He stepped back. "All right then. Get your turkeys together if you've got any; for I'm your new boss in place of Murphy, and you're going to start for camp right now !" One man, and one only, questioned this last state- ment, a young man almost of Gaston's own size, with his youth all run to whisky-bloat, and the shifty eyes of a crook. "We start for camp when we get good 'n' ready," he growled. "Ain't anybody going to hurry us."' Gaston whirled upon him and stood, head thrust forward, watching him for a moment between nar- rowed lids. The young man suddenly felt sorry that he had spoken, and sought to slink behind a compan- ion. "Come here, you," said Gaston sharply. He did not speak again. His eyes bored the youth through, and his forefinger beckoned irresistibly. Sullenly the big fellow slouched forward, helpless from fright, yet defiant by right of the youth left in him. "What'a yah want?" he snarled. "I want to look at you. Come nearer." The young man stood before him, an ox led to slaughter, his arms useless at his sides, his eyes dumbly pleading for mercy. The crew shuffled a little in sym- pathetic agony as Gaston's cold stare froze the young fellow into abject terror. Each instant they expected to see a flash of long arm, and hear the youth thud, like a stricken ox, on the floor. Gaston did not strike him. He did worse. He re- moved the fellow's cap and tossed it away. He slapped his face. He took the victim by the jaw and thrust the 54 Gaston Olaf head far back; he pushed with the heel of his hand on the man's nose until he seemed about to rub it off his face. He rubbed his ears, stabbed his fingers lightly against his eyes, rocked his head with light, contemptu- ous cuffs. It was cruel man-breaking, carried to the final degree of subtle brutality, and it did its work. "Hit me !" blubbered the fellow piteously. "Hit me, and have it over with." For reply Gaston thrust him back into the crowd, wiped his fingers carefully on his handkerchief, and with a look of disgust, tossed the handkerchief away. "Is there any one else who thinks he isn't going to start for camp right now?" he asked coldly. It was a superfluous question. They would have gone anywhere, done anything, anything to be rid for the moment of the pressure of his cruel will. A grunt of relief escaped from several as the sleighs pulled up outside and a teamster, whip in hand, and heavily muf- fled, entered. "All right, boss; ready to start whenever you are," he said. "Let's get going soon's we can; the horses can't stand long in this weather." Gaston promptly began to call out the names on the list Taggart had given him. At each name a man sullenly went into the back room, took his bag or satchel from the pile stored there, and hurried out to the sleighs. Two failed to respond, being helpless from liquor. "Load them," commanded Gaston. "One in each sleigh." When the sleighs were loaded, each with its freight of a dozen cowed or dead-drunk men, he leaped up be- side Tom Pine on the driver's seat of the second sleigh. "Just a minute, Thorson." Dr. Sanders, who had been watching the events in MacCarthy's with a grin on his face, stepped up and spoke in a low voice. "If I A Man's Size Job 55 were you I'd go back to the dance just for a minute anyway." "Why?" "Somebody wants to see you before you go." Gaston's laughter was as cold as the Winter night. "No, thanks. I'm one of the toughs. I don't be- long up there. Let 'em go, driver." "Whoa! Pull 'em up a second!" The doctor was very much in earnest. "Thorson, do you know any- thing about the man you're working for?" "You bet ; he's a man with the hair on. He doesn't want to make a Sunday-school out of the woods. Look out, Doc they'll step on you." The doctor sprang back as the prancing team moved forward. "Thorson," he shouted as the sleigh swept past, "I'll bet you the drinks that some day you'll be sorry for being such an impetuous fool!" CHAPTER VIII A CROOKED TRAIL G ASTON heard, and laughed loudly in reply. "Let 'em go, driver!" he commanded. "Get out of town as quick as they'll travel. Shake 'em up. Plenty of time to walk 'em when we're out on the road, away from the lights." "Giddap, boys! Steady steadyee! Giddap git out of there!" The big logging-teams, ramping with high feeding and leisure, nipped by the cold, and hitched to loads that were playthings to them, needed no second urging. With smoking nostrils and heads well down they tore down the street for the road up the river. Maudlin screams of rage, laughter, invitation and contempt came from the red-light places as the two sleigh-loads pulled past. A few of the men answered back drunkenly ; a medley of curses and laughter, flam- ing lights, open doors. Then they were past. The shouting died down abruptly. They were on the river road, speeding into the silent darkness of a tamarack swamp, and the lights and noise were sud- denly left behind. Gaston breathed a great sigh of relief as he cast a look upward at the starlit sky, which showed above the dark tamaracks. "Well, Tom Pine, we didn't stay long in that town," he laughed. "Not long enough to hurt us if we're through with it now," admitted Tom Pine. 56 A Crooked Trail 57 "Through with it ?" A tiny, troubling thought shot through Gaston's mind. Then he laughed it away. "Of course we're through with it ; this is the game for us. Lay low there, you bums ! Don't try any flopping out of the sleigh on me. Any man tries to get away, I'll drag him into camp at the end of a chain behind the sleigh." He glowed ; he laughed. Life was at its fierce flood- tide for him for the time being. No time for regrets, for introspection, for thoughts of what might have been. What had he to do with long-lashed brown eyes, with scornful little mouths, with tiny, tripping feet ? He was playing the stern old man-game, which he was bred to play; and the game was strong drink to his restless blood, blotting out memories, emotions, all, in the fierce exultance of the game. For Gaston was one of the battle-breed. Life to him must mean war or it lost its savour ; and he had that now out in the black, lawless woods, himself and two dozen men, any one of whom would knife him eagerly if for a moment his grip on them slackened. Gaston sat upright beside the driver and hummed an old tune of his rough Norse sire's teaching. Mile after mile the tote-road ran, straight as a sword-gash, dark and narrow as the road to the pit, through the tamarack swamp. The horses now had settled down to their rough, heavy-limbed walk, plump- ing doggedly ahead in the dark, the trace-chains jang- ling. The sleighs were becoming silent. The drink was dying out in most of the men, and the steady, even slipping of the sleighs began to lull them to slumber. To those who remained awake the eerie humming from the second sleigh reminded them that Gaston was awake and watchful. What little rebellion remained in them died rapidly out. The sleighs went on in si- 58 Gaston Olaf lence, save when some man swore at his neighbour's crowding. The ground at last grew higher, the tamaracks gave way to hard wood and pine, and a clearing with a group of dark cabins showed in the timber. "An old camp?" queried Gaston. "Naw!" laughed the driver. "That's where some of those fellers that Hale brought up here tried to settle with their families." "Where are they now?" The driver snickered. "Wall, they're sort of scattered. A couple of 'em are down at the Falls. The rest figgered this country was a leetle too hard for 'em and skedaddled." "What was the matter?" "Oh, nothing much, nothing much. But, you see, them cabins was on the road to the old man's camps, and sometimes the boys 'ud stop in on their way from town and, well, them settlers figgered 'twas healthier to move." A short distance farther on a similar clearing and clump of dark cabins appeared. "What's this?" asked Gaston. "The same thing?" "Shore." The driver was silent a moment, then continued, "That's where the rumpus happened that started 'em moving out couple years back." "What was that?" "Oh, they was kind of a hard old-timer named Olson settled down there, and he said that, by Gripes! he'd picked his claim, and he'd settled and was going to stay settled, and there wasn't any gang hard enough to run him out of the country. Some o' the boys was going back to camp sort o' tanked up one night and they stopped in on him, and told him this was an awful hard country and settlers wasn't wanted, but A Crooked Trail 59 they guessed they'd take his woman and girl along to camp to cook for 'em. "So they got hold of the women, and the old guy he was the pure quill all right he got hold of an ox- yoke, and when the gang got back to camp they had one of the boys in the sleigh too dead to skin. He put up a great fight, the old guy did, whtn they went back to get him; but they got him. Then the rest of the settlers got scared and cleared out." Gaston whistled. "That was pretty rough. Who owns the claims now? Did they have 'em proved up before they left?" "Proved up, nothing. They ain't any proved-up claims 'round here. It's all open yet, the claim land. The old man owns most of the timber land 'round here, o' course. Then Havens's girl's got what her old man had, pieces here and there, and that fellow Hale got some people together and bought some that had been proved up, cleared land mostly, to make farms out of. The rest is open to homesteading, but there ain't none of it being done, except by a few of the old man's standbys." "Why so?" "Ain't I been telling you it's unhealthy for new set- tlers trying to horn in here ? Like this Olson he was getting along to where it looked like he might stick, and an accident happened to him, and his widow and girl are down to the Point running the hotel." "What? Are they- " "Sure. Hale got the hotel put up for 'em, I under- stand. Mebbe Doc Sanders and old Perkins, the post- master, chipped in a little, too. Those fellers certainly like to monkey with the buzz-saw. They seen plenty signs by this time of what happens to folks that try to take holt here, unless they're working for Taggart. "Not that the old man has anything to do with it, 60 Gaston Olaf of course," he added hurriedly, "but it just happens that way. The old man kind of naturally gets hard guys around him, and they don't care for those settlers and town guys who're trying to tame this country down. Just happens, you know. Old man kind of happens to get hard men on his payroll, and," he con- cluded with an admiring grin at Gaston, "when I heard he'd got you, I sez to the boys, 'Boys, he's got the hardest of 'em all now, and there'll be more softies scared away from here when they hear it, and you darn know it.' ' Gaston slowly stiffened himself to his straightest and slowly turned toward the talkative figure beside him. "Pardon me, my friend," he said, puzzled, "but let's have that over again. What was it you said about the 'softies'?" "Why, I just said there'd be some more of 'em skedaddling out of this neck of the woods when they heard that Taggart had got you with him." Gaston still was puzzled. "And why do you say that, my friend ? Why should any of the 'softies' skeddadle because they heard I'm working for Taggart?"