"There's something else," Martin resumed. "Davies has left me and gone back to Baumstein."

"Gone back?" Jake exclaimed.

"Sure," said Martin, quietly. "I didn't know he'd worked for the fellow when I hired him. Now I've a notion he's been Baumstein's man, not mine, all the time."

Jim clenched his fist and Carrie's eyes sparkled. "We're up against a poisonous crook," she said, and looked at Jim. "You see why he made us trouble? He wanted to break us, so we'd sell him the Bluebird cheap."

"It's pretty plain. All the same, I don't see what I ought to do about it. Martin's plan doesn't quite meet the bill: I'd sooner try something a little more vigorous."

Carrie shook her head. "You mustn't be a fool! The best way to play that kind of man is to use him. When he finds out it will hurt most."

Jim hesitated. He remembered the blow they had got at the beginning of the struggle and all that Carrie had borne. Baumstein's plot had drained their resources and made her suffer.

"Martin's plan is best; you must agree," she urged.

"Very well," said Jim. "Jake can see the fellow and begin the negotiations; I'll come in afterwards. Jake's something of a philosopher, but I'd probably spoil the plot if I met Baumstein before I cool."

Martin gave them some useful advice and then went away, and a few days afterwards Baumstein sent a message. Jake played his part well; indulging the other's pretended indifference and arguing for better terms. Sometimes he seemed on the point of yielding, and then on his next visit found grounds for delay. At length, when Baumstein was getting impatient, Jake took Jim to the office.

Baumstein occupied a revolving chair in front of a fine hard wood desk, and gave the others a sharp glance as they came in. The office was very well furnished and Baumstein wore fashionable clothes. There was a fine diamond in his ring. This annoyed Jim, who knew that while hard-bitten prospectors braved the risks of starvation on the snowy trail, greedy company-floaters often got the reward.

"I hope you have come to clinch the deal," Baumstein remarked. "I've met your partner as far as I can, but the bargaining has gone on long enough."

"Then you can't raise your price?" Jim asked.

Baumstein studied him. Winter had been compliant and apparently anxious to sell, but there was something puzzling about his partner.

Baumstein got a hint of sternness that he did not like. For all that, bluff paid when one dealt with poor men.

"No," he replied, dryly. "Your partner has raised me to my limit and I've got to stop. You can agree right now or quit."

"Oh, well," said Jim. "If you have gone as far as you are able----.

May I use your telephone?"

"Certainly," said Baumstein, and when Jim, picking up the instrument on the desk, called the exchange, suddenly straightened himself. He knew the number for which Jim asked.

"Winter and Dearham," said the latter. "Mr. Lamson? All right; I'll come along and fix things. We'll record the transfer when you like."

Baumstein swung round his chair and his face got red.

"What's that you told Lamson? What does it mean?"

"It means I've sold the Bluebird claim."

"Then, you have been negotiating with the Combine all the time? Why in thunder did you come to me?"

"For one thing, we wanted to find out how much you would bid. It would be safe to ask another party more than you would give. We didn't know how much we ought to get."

Baumstein clenched his fist. "You used me for a base to bluff from; reckoning you'd fall back on me if you couldn't put it over?"

"No," said Jim. "We didn't mean to deal with you at all. You helped us get a proper price; that was your job."

They looked at one another, with mouths set hard, and then Baumstein broke out: "You swine!"

"Stop there," said Jim, with ominous quietness. "I'm back from using the ax in the bush and feel very fit. To put you out of your office would give me the keenest satisfaction and would be cheaper than getting after you through the court."

"Shucks!" exclaimed Baumstein. "What are you giving me?"

"I reckon you know. You put Davies on our track; he broke the line, and sent a log down on our canoes. He's smart and both plots worked before we found him out. But we did find him out."

Baumstein hesitated, wondering how much was supposition and how much Jim really knew.

"You'll be blamed foolish if you go to law with a tale like that."

"We don't propose to bother, because I think we're even. You helped us sell our claim and the Combine know what you were willing to pay. We raised them some; one could take it for granted you wouldn't reach just value."

"You told them what I offered?" Baumstein shouted.

"We did," Jim said, smiling. "I expect they got a useful hint. In fact, if you want to control Northern copper, you had better get busy.

It looks as if the Combine were on your track." He paused and beckoned Jake. "Well, perhaps there's enough said. We mustn't keep you."

They went off and left Baumstein sitting very still with his fist clenched.

A few days afterwards, Jim and Jake waited for Carrie one evening on the veranda at the store. Mrs. Winter had refused to sell the business, but Jake had engaged extra help and they had arranged for a long holiday. The store, standing back from the rough board sidewalk, was small and shabby; the street was torn by transfer-wagon wheels. A Chinese laundry and a pool-room occupied the other side. Sawmill refuse and empty coal-oil cans had been dumped in a neighboring vacant lot. Mean frame houses ran on from the store, some surrounded by a narrow yard, and some with verandas covered by mosquito gauze so that they looked like meat-safes. The neighborhood was strangely unattractive, but one could see the sparkling Inlet and the dark forest that rolled back to the shining snow.

Jim, sitting in an old rocking-chair, was quietly satisfied. After taking Mrs. Winter and Carrie to lunch at a smart hotel, he had loafed about the city without feeling bored. It was nice to know he had nothing to do and had money to spend. In fact, he had relished a novel enjoyment when he visited some shops and bought presents for his hosts without thinking what they cost. Now he languidly looked back on the years that had gone so quickly since his parents died. They were strenuous years, marked by hardship, toil, and adventure, for Jim had not known monotonous quietness. Even when he studied at McGill, he had worked between the terms in order to pay the fees. Afterwards, finding no field for such talent as he had, he had sold his labor where he could. He had seen much and learned much, but he was young and had a curious feeling that there were fresh experiences in store. By and by he banished the memories and looked at Jake.

"I smile when I think about the time I hit Martin's camp, pretty hungry and ragged, and got after him about his sending Davies on our track,"

he said.

Jake laughed. "After all, I guess you took a useful line. Made him feel he'd got to show us he wasn't a crook."

"Why did he want to show us? What we thought wouldn't matter a hill of beans."

"The fellow's white," Jake replied.

"Martin is white," Jim agreed, looking at Jake rather hard. "We were getting pretty near the rocks when he gave us a lift."

Jake nodded. When their money was very low after the fire, Martin had suggested an arrangement that had worked for the benefit of all. Jake hoped his comrade would be satisfied with his vague a.s.sent, but doubted.

"Why did he help?" Jim resumed. "The profit he got wasn't worth his bothering about."

"If you mean to know, I reckon he thought Carrie would like it."

"Ah," said Jim, frowning, "I suspected something like this! Well, we owe Martin much, but I'd sooner not think we let him give us a lift for your sister's sake. You ought to have refused."

"I didn't know. The thing's got obvious since."

"But you know now?"