"He was goin' to shoot Ben, but the boys got up on their ear and made it known that if he killed the camp mascot they'd throw up their jobs.

An' if you know anything about a woods crew you'd know it's the little things that they get the maddest about. An' now whenever the colonel comes round he takes it out in chasin' Ben with a whip. Ben just lopes round in a circle of a mile or two, and comes back lookin' reproachful, but still perfectly satisfied with Number 7 as a winter residence. The boys think a lot of Ben. Ben thinks a lot of the boys. But the colonel is sp'ilin' his temper some with that bow whip. I reckon why Ben jest come out there lookin' so savage was because he thought old Ward was comin' up to camp."

The moose finished his critical survey of the group, snorted, and then thrust himself out of sight in the bushes.

"If we ever have any serious fallin' out with Colonel Gid it's like to be over that moose," drawled a man.

"To judge by the moose, we must be near Number 7 camp," Parker suggested.

"Just over the hossback," was the laconic answer.

Parker was soon looking down on it from the hilltop. There were two long, low main camps--one for the sleeping quarters of the men, the other crowded with long, roughly made tables, at which they ate, The s.p.a.ce that separated the camps was roofed and had one side open to the weather. This shelter was called the "dingle," and contained the camp grindstone and spare sled equipment.

At a little distance was a small camp containing the stores, such as moccasins, larigans, leggings, flannel shirts and mittens, all for sale at double the prices ruling in the city and for Colonel Ward's profit.

The woods name for this store is the "w.a.n.gan camp."

The hour was still too early for the few men left at Number 7 to be in from the cutting. Only the cook and his helper, "the cookee," were at the camp.

The cook came out and advanced to meet the new arrivals, having been attracted from his kettles and pans by the view-halloo they sent down from the hilltop.

"Colonel left word to lock him in the w.a.n.gan," reported the cook, rolling his bare arms more tightly in his dingy ap.r.o.n.

"Where is the colonel?" asked Connick.

"He's out at the log landin'. Be in at supper-time, so he said." The cook eyed the captive with curiosity not unmixed with commiseration.

"Has he been takin' on much?" he inquired of one of the men.

"Nope. Stiff upper lip--an' he licked Dan," the man added, behind his palm.

"Sho!" the cook e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, looking on Parker with new interest. "Ain't he worried by thinkin' of the colonel?"

"Naw-w! Says he'll eat him raw!" fabricated the men, enjoying the cook's amazement. "Says he's glad to come up here. Been hankerin' to get at Ward, he says."

"Wal, you don't say!" The cook surveyed Parker from head to foot with critical inspection. This scrutiny annoyed the young man at last.

"Do I owe you anything?" He snapped.

"Heh--wal--blorh-h--wal, I hope ye don't!" spluttered the cook, retreating. "Land, ain't he a savage one?" he gasped, as he hastened back into his realm of pots. He transferred his news to the amazed cookee.

"They tell me," he magnified, so as not to be outdone in sensationalism, "that this feller has licked every man that they've turned him loose on between here and Sunkhaze, an' now is just grittin' his teeth a-waitin'

for the colonel."

"Wal," said the cookee, solemnly, "if the r'yal Asiatic tiger--meanin'

Colonel Gid--and the great human Bengal--meanin' him as is in the w.a.n.gan--get together in this clearin', I think I'd rather see it from up a tree." And the two were only diverted from their breathless discussion of possibilities by the noisy arrival of Gideon Ward, clamoring for his supper.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Colonel Ward stamped in 149-174]

Parker had hardly finished in solitude his humble supper brought by the cookee, when there was a rattling of the padlock outside. Open flew the door of bolted planks, and Colonel Ward stamped in, kicking the snow from his feet with wholly unnecessary racket of boots. A hatchet-faced man, whose chin was framed between the ends of a drooping yellow mustache, followed meekly and closed the door. Parker rose with a confident air he was far from feeling.

Ward gazed on his prisoner a moment, his gray hair bristling from under his fur cap, his little eyes glittering maliciously. His cheek k.n.o.bs were more irately purple than ever. He took up his cry where he had left it at Poquette Carry, and began to shout:

"Better'n law, hey? Better'n law! Ye remember what I said, don't yeh?

Better'n law!"

The young man faced him.

"Colonel Ward, there's a law against trespa.s.s, a law against conspiracy, a law against riots and destruction of property, and a law against abduction. I promise you here and now that you'll learn something about those laws later."

"Still threat'nin' me right on my own land, are yeh, hey?"

"I am not threatening. I am simply standing up for my rights as a citizen under the law."

"Wal, I ain't here to argue law nor nothin' else with yeh. I've had you brought up here so's I can talk straight business with you. You've had a pretty tart lesson, but I hope you've learned somethin' by it. I've showed ye that a railro'd can't be built over Gideon Ward's property till he says the word. An' he'll never say the word. Ye're licked. Own up to it, now ain't ye?" Ward's voice was mighty with a conqueror's confidence.

"Not by any means. You have simply incurred the penalty of being sent to state prison. And while you're there I'll be building that railroad."

Fury fairly streamed from Ward's eyes. He choked, grasped at his throat, writhed as if he were strangling, and stamped his foot until the camp shook. At last he recovered his voice.

"I'll pay ye for that! Now see here!" He jammed a paper into Parker's hands. "Sign that docyment, there an' now. Sign it an' swear ye'll stick by your agreement; 'cause if ye go back on it, may the Lord have mercy on your soul, for Gid Ward never will!"

Parker glanced at the crudely drawn agreement. It bound him as agent for his princ.i.p.als to withdraw all material from the Po-quette Carry, and abandon his railroad undertaking. It furthermore promised that he would make no complaint on account of damages to property or himself--admitting that he had been guilty of trespa.s.s.

Parker indignantly held the paper toward the colonel. The latter refused to take it.

"Sign it!" he roared. "Sign it, or you'll take your medicine!"

"Do you think I am a fool, Colonel Ward? Or are you one? I cannot bind my princ.i.p.als in any such manner. Furthermore, a signature obtained under duress is of no value in court. I claim that I am under duress."

"You refuse to sign, then?"

"Absolutely. It would be easy enough to sign that paper and then go away and do as I like. But I am not going to lie to you even for a moment.

The paper would be worthless in court."

"It ain't a paper that's goin' into court," Ward retorted. "It's a paper by which you agree to get out of here. It's you an' me. It just means that ro'd shan't be built."

"Put into other words, I am to be scared out, and run back home and report that the road is impracticable?"

"There's no one else in the world but you that would be fool enough to start in here an' buck me!" Ward shouted.

"And therefore you think if I agree to leave, no one else will dare to undertake the thing? You do me too much honor, Colonel Ward. But I repeat, I shall not run away."

"Don't you realize I have gone too far into this thing to pull back now?

I warn you that I may have to do things I don't like to do in order to protect myself. I can't back out now--no, sir!"

"You shouldn't have started in, then!" Parker sat down and looked away as if the incident were closed. He slowly tore up the agreement and tossed the pieces on the floor.

This bravado made Ward choke.

"Stand right up, do you, an' threaten to put me into state prison?"