"And I've to go blacksmithing with the set purpose of eating this fellow up?"

"No, you're going blacksmithing for the purpose of setting yourself up, you rickle of bones! Licking McGregor can be your side line. When you beat him, you'll know you are in pretty good shape."

"All right,--I'm on!" agreed Phil. "But who is this Royce Pederstone?

Why is he giving up his work?"

"Who? why? and wherefore? At times you're a regular bairn for asking questions, but when you're wanted to talk you're as silent as the tomb.

"Royce Pederstone has been here since the flood. He's a good blacksmith, only he never finishes a job. If he is making a gate, he stops at the last rivet and Hanson has to drive it home. If he is shoeing a horse, he forgets a nail. If he is making a fish hook, he omits the barb. It is the same with his land deals; he buys land and, for the time being, forgets he owns it so far as selling again is concerned. Then he buys some more whenever he has the ready cash. It is all working for him,--so he says. He owns more earth than he has any idea of. He doesn't know how much stock he has; doesn't even knows what happens to his farm implements once he pays for them; in some cases doesn't know if they have been delivered to him. Often he finds some of them when the snow goes away in the spring time. There are many things he doesn't know; all the same it isn't safe to take too many chances on what he pa.s.ses up."

"Then he has got too rich for blacksmithing?"

"Not he! Royce Pederstone is not that kind of a man, Phil. He is just too busy. He is going to be the next member of parliament from the Valley. Watch and see!

"The new election comes off in three months' time. Last week the a.s.sociation met to elect their representative. Some were for Barrington of Armstrong, others for Brenchfield the Mayor. They couldn't agree. Royce Pederstone was chairman of the meeting. At midnight they were as far off a decision as ever. Someone proposed John Royce Pederstone, and it carried without a dissenting voice.

"He's a cracking good man, is Pederstone, on the platform. He is straight, honest and more or less of a farmer. Ben Todd, the editor, is hand and glove with him, so he will have _The Vernock and District Advertiser_ at his back.

"The old government is sure to be kicked out of office, if only to give the people a change; so, who is going to keep Royce Pederstone from being the Valley's representative at Victoria, I should like to know?"

"And that's why he's stepping out of the blacksmith's shop?" put in Phil.

"Yes!--that's the why, boy."

Next morning at six o'clock Phil, in the company of Jim Langford, presented himself at Pederstone's forge.

"Hullo!" cried Jim, "that's funny. Not open yet!"

The front door was heavily barred across. They went to the back entrance. It also was firmly secured.

Langford shielded his face with his hand and peered through the narrow, barred windows.

"Well, I'll be darned!" he exclaimed. "And on your first morning, too!

Hard luck, Phil!"

"Why,--what is it?"

"Oh, nothing much! Only I fancy you're going to see why your new boss is called Wildman Hanson.

"Look in there."

Phil did so.

"What did you see?"

Phil puckered his face in disgust.

"Not much wildman there," he remarked. "As far as I can see Hanson is sound asleep on a pile of c.o.ke. There are two empty bottles at his side. Seems to me he might be dead drunk."

"That's what he is, too."

"Then let's go in and throw a bucket of water over him and wake him up."

"Not on your life! Then there _would_ be a funeral. I guess you had better postpone your start till to-morrow. Only one man in Vernock can handle Hanson after he's had a night of it, and that man's the Mayor.

Man to man, Hanson has him shaded. With a rope in his hand, the Mayor is the best man."

Voices behind them made them turn round.

Royce Pederstone and Mayor Brenchfield were riding down the side road as if on some definite bent. They were equipped as for a round-up.

"How do, Jim! Is this Hanson's new apprentice?" asked Pederstone, bending over his horse and shaking hands genially with Phil.

"Glad to meet you, young man, and sorry this has happened on your first day. Hanson only goes on the toot once in a long while. You must just forget what you are going to see in a few minutes and think later only of what he shows you of blacksmithing."

Brenchfield completely ignored Phil's presence.

The two men got off their horses.

Royce Pederstone turned the water on at the tap at the trough, to which a hose was already attached. He directed the nozzle through a broken window pane, squirting a thin, strong stream directly on the upturned face of the open-mouthed and heavily-breathing Swede.

With a grunt the huge fellow spread himself.

The Mayor jerked off the water, then he and Royce Pederstone sprang on their horses and took up positions at different sides of the yard.

Jim and Phil in curiosity kept their eyes glued to the dirty window.

Growling fiercely, Hanson scrambled to his feet. His usually handsome and childlike face was contorted with rage and horrible to see. His eyes, bloodshot and bleared, stood out wildly in his head, his teeth showed like the teeth of a snarling puma and a foamy lather slithered from his mouth down on to his huge, hairy, muscle-heaving chest. He stood over six feet--a man of gigantic proportions, with every inch of him tuned and in perfect symmetry.

But he seemed madness incarnate.

With a fierce oath, he wiped the water from his face. He staggered and b.u.mped into an anvil, striking his knee against the metal. He swore again and, in his mounting anger, he seized the anvil in his great hands, lifted it bodily from its stand and heaved it into a corner--a feat which four strong men, at any time, would have experienced difficulty in performing.

"Great Caesar!" whispered Phil in awe.

"After a booze, he's as strong as a railway engine," returned Jim, "and he goes plumb daffy. Murder or anything else doesn't matter a hill of beans to him at a time like this."

"That sounds exceedingly pleasant."

"Pshaw!--you needn't mind. You'll know in lots of time, for he's happy and gentle as a lark when he's really boozing. It is only when he wakes up the morning after--after a ten hours' sleep--that the fun begins.

"He killed a horse once with his bare hands. Got on its back and strangled it somehow. He half-killed the old Police Chief. He got a year in jail for that. They were going to send him to an asylum afterwards, but he was such a fine workman and so decent at an ordinary time, that Royce Pederstone and the Mayor gave their guarantees and promised to attend to him any time he tried his monkey-doodle business again."

Meantime, Hanson walked over to the front door and tested it. Then he came toward the back one.

"Run!" shouted Langford, suiting prompt action to his word.

Phil remained a moment or two longer, trusting to his nimbleness of foot for emergency.

He saw Hanson stoop and pick up a great, heavy, sledge, then spring madly to the back door, swinging the big hammer above his head. With a shivering crash the woodwork splintered.