The Swede looked blankly at the Irishman, and the Irishman gazed dreamily at the Swede.

"Guess that's good enough. Ain't it, Dan?"

"Shure!" seconded Dan.

"It can't be done, boys," I said. "Sorry,--but I have my instructions and they must be followed out."

I handed back the list.

The Swede stared at it and then over at me.

"Ain't you goin' to fill this?"

"No!"

"Well, I'll be gosh-dinged! Say! sonny,--there'll be a hea.r.s.e here for you to-morrow. The boss wrote this."

"How am I to know that?" I retorted.

"d.a.m.ned if I know," he returned, scratching his forelock. "But it'll be merry h.e.l.l to pay if we go back without this bunch of dope."

"And it might be the devil to pay, if I gave you the goods without a proper order," I followed up.

"Some of this stuff's for to-morrow's grubstake," put in the Swede, "and most of the hardware's wanted for a job first crack out of the box in the morning."

"Sorry to disoblige you, fellows," I said sincerely, "but your boss should not have run so close to the wind. Further, I am going to work this store right and that from the very beginning."

"And you're not goin' to fill the boss's own caligeography, or whatever you call it?" reiterated the Irishman.

"No!"

"Wouldn't that rattle ye?" exclaimed Dan to his friend.

"It do," conceded the Swede, who put his hand into his pocket and tossed fifteen cents on to the counter.

"Well,--give us ten cents chewing tobacco, and a packet of gum."

I filled this cash order and immediately thereafter the two walked out of the store and sailed away without another word or even a look behind them.

I was worried over the incident, for I did not like to think myself in any way instrumental in depriving the men of anything they might require for their supper, and it was farthest from my desires to stop or even hamper the work at Camp No. 2. But I had been warned that there was only one way to operate a business and that was on business lines, according to plan, so my conscience would not permit of any other course than the one I had taken.

Had the store been my own, I might have acted differently, but it was merely held by me in trust, which was quite another matter.

Next forenoon, a tug blew her whistle and put into the Bay, coming-to on the far side of Rita's Isle. A little later, as I stood behind the counter writing up some fresh orders to the wholesalers, to replenish my dwindling stock, a dinghy, with one man at the oars and another sitting in the stern, appeared round the Island and pointed straight for the wharf.

The oarsman ran the nose of the boat on the beach and remained where he was. The man who had been sitting in the stern sprang out and came striding in the direction of the store.

He stopped at the door and looked around him, ignoring my presence the while.

What a magnificent specimen of a man he was! Never in my life had I seen such a man, and, with all the sight-seeing I have done since, I have never met such another.

I fancied, with my five feet eleven inches, that I was of a good height; but this giant stood six feet four inches, if he stood an inch.

He looked quite boyish; not a day older than twenty-two. His hair was very fair and wavy, and he had plenty of it.

He was cleanly shaven and cleanly and neatly dressed. His eyes were big and sky blue in colour. They were eyes that could be warm or cold at will. Just then, they were pa.s.sively cold.

His was a good face, reflecting strength and determination, while honesty, straight-forwardness and absolute fearlessness lent a charm to it that it otherwise would have lacked.

After all, it was the glory of his stature that attracted me, as he stood, framed by the door, dressed in his high logging boots, with khaki-coloured trousers and a shirt to match; a soft felt hat on the back of his head set a little sportily to one side.

Myself an admirer of the human form, a lover of muscle and sinew, strength, agility and virility, it always was the physique of a person that arrested my attention.

What a man this was for a woman to love! flashed the thought through my mind. Gazing at him, I could not help feeling my own insignificance in comparison, although, far down inside of me, there was a hungry kind of longing to match my agility and science against his tremendous brute strength, a wondering what the outcome would be. It was, however, merely a feeling of friendly antagonism.

But this was the fancy of a pa.s.sing moment, for I was waiting for the big fellow to speak.

He did speak, and rather spoiled the impression.

"What'n the h.e.l.l kind of a dump is this anyway?" he exploded.

I was. .h.i.t as with a brickbat, but I tried not to show it.

"This is the Golden Crescent Trading Company," I answered quietly and, if anything, with an a.s.sumption of meekness which I was far from feeling;--just to see how much rope this big fellow would take to hang himself with.

I suppose my tone made him think that his verbal onslaught had been as effective as it had been short.

He turned his eyes on me for the first time. They fixed on mine, and never once flickered.

"You--don't--say!" he returned, in measured words.

Then he flared up again.

"Say!--who's the boss here?"

"I am," I retorted, getting warm.

He came over to the middle of the floor.

"And where'n the h.e.l.l do I come in?" he asked.

"Don't know, I'm sure, mister; and I don't care very much either. But I have an idea that you or I will go out, quick, if you don't cool down."

"Here!--you cut that stuff out." He came up to the counter, clenching his huge hands. "I'm Joe Clark,--see."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark. I'm George Bremner."

"Who'n the h.e.l.l's George Bremner?" he burst out.