AS on a previous occasion, when the gloom of the night had settled, they were again at the side of the village street, at the mouth of the path by which they had returned from the cliff above the falls.

She had sought the falls that evening because the din of the waters would keep him from talking too much. She was afraid of the light in his eyes and of the repressed feeling in his tones. She knew that she must repulse him if he wooed. Her emotions were mixed, but she was sure there was no love in her heart—all her thoughts were concerned with her quest. If love should by any possibility develop in her and she should allow him to see it, what would become of his man’s appetite for fight and danger? She felt obliged to view surrender to him in that light. On the other hand, she could not afford to offend him deeply by allowing matters to come to a climax between them right then; the climax must disclose her lack of affection. She had been estimating that hale man of the woods—she was certain that what she felt toward him was only friendly respect for his character, and she could not lie to him or fawn falsely for her purposes.

“I must go up now and face the usual music,” he said, sourly. “I’m getting to be afraid of myself with Flagg.”“I’ve heard he’s afflicted with the toothache to-day. You must make all allowances,” she entreated, with a dash of jest in her earnestness.

“Then I especially need a protector. I’m going to ask you again to go along with me. Really, you’re needed if I’m expected to stay on my job. Why,” he went on, jest mingling with seriousness in his own case, “if the Flagg drive comes down all right through my efforts, you can take the credit of the victory because you were present to-night and smoothed things; he’ll just have to be decent, with a strange young lady in the room.”

She was not ready with peremptory refusal, as she had been on the other occasion; she had met the bugbear of Rickety Dick and had prevailed over the old man’s suspicions. As Latisan averred, her presence might help matters; she would entertain strange and acute regrets if her absence should allow the split that Latisan seemed to apprehend.

He timidly put his hand on her arm. “Please!”

“I’ll be intruding on a business talk. I may make him all the more touchy.” She was hesitating, weighing the hazards of each plan—to go or to stay away.

“There’s no private business to be talked. I’m simply going to tell him that I have blown the ice and have the logs in the river and I want to have his orders about how many splash dams I can blow up if I need to do it for a head o’ water to beat the Three C’s drive to Skulltree. Really, he needs to talk with somebody who is gentle,” he went on, and she responded to the touch on her arm and walked slowly with him up the hill. “He sits there day by day and reads the tooth-for-tooth part of the Old Testament, and it keeps hardening his heart. I’ve thought of a plan. Suppose you get friendly with him! You can take some soothing books up to him in your off hours and read aloud. Let’s try to make a different man of Eck Flagg, you and I.”

So, over the ledges where her childish feet had stumbled, Lida Kennard, trembling, anxious, yearning for her kin, went again to the door of the big mansion on the hill.

Latisan’s words had opened a vista of hope to her; she might be able, after all, to render the service to which old Dick had exhorted her, hiding her identity behind a woman’s desire to cheer an invalid.

It was the same square, bleak house of her early memories, now dark except for a dim glow through two dingy windows in the lower part; the yee-yawed curtains were eloquent evidence of the housekeeping methods.

“He won’t have any women around, as I told you.” Latisan was not tactful in his excuse for the slack aspect of the house.

“I’m afraid it isn’t best for me to go in,” she said, making a final stand.

“If you go with me you’re all right,” declared the drive boss, with pride of power where the Flagg interests were concerned. “It’ll do him good to be jumped out of himself—to see a young lady from the city.”

Latisan did not knock; he walked in, escorting the girl.

In the middle of the sitting room, in a wheel chair that was draped with a moosehide tanned with the hair on it, she beheld an old man with a fleece of white mane and beard. A shaded oil lamp shed a circle of radiance on a big book which lay on his knees. The girl noted that the book was the Bible. Outside that circle of radiance the room was in darkness and the old man heard footsteps without being able to see who had entered; in the shadows was old Dick on his stool.

“That you, Latisan?” demanded the master.

“Yes, sir!” Ward was about to say more, introducing the girl, but Flagg broke in, paying no attention to what his drive master might have on his mind.

“Here’s the stuff for real men in this book! You ought to take time to read it. I’m sorry I didn’t read it regular when I was going about on two legs.” He pounded his hand on the opened pages. “The parsons are now preaching too much New Testament stuff. When my folks dragged me to the meetinghouse in the pod-auger days we got Old Testament—red hot. I’ve been hoping I remembered it right—I’ve been looking it up. Listen!”

“‘If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is thine soul, entice thee secretly, saying, “Let us go and serve other gods,” which thou hast not known, thou, nor thy fathers; thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him; but thou shalt surely kill him; thine hand shalt be first upon him to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people. And thou shalt stone him with stones, that he die.’”

Again the old man beat his hand upon the book. “There are the orders for you, Latisan!”

“I don’t know as I just get you, sir!”

“You don’t expect to find the Three C’s mentioned by name in Holy Writ, do you? But the case is covered. They’re asking you and me to serve other gods. They’re asking us to go into their combine. If we do so it means that the sawmills on this river will be closed and the homes deserted. They’re taking all the timber down to the paper mills. To hell with their paper! The folks need lumber for houses. The Three C’s shan’t control the market and boost prices so that folks can’t buy. Latisan! I tell you again, you’ve got your orders, backed by the Scripture. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! Families or corporations, it’s all the same! Why don’t you say something?”

“I’m waiting to introduce a young lady, sir. This is Miss Jones who has just come to town.”

Flagg tipped the shade of the lamp and deflected the light upon the couple. He bawled an ugly oath. “Clean shaved, again! Making a dude of yourself! Sapgagging with a girl?”

Latisan stepped forward and broke in on the tirade. “I’ll have to ask you to trig that kind of talk, Mr. Flagg. Miss Jones has come here to cheer you up.”

“When I want any girl to come here and cheer me up I’ll drop her a line and give her thirty days’ notice.”

The caller who had been snubbed so bluntly turned on her heel. She pleaded, faintly, “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll leave you and Mr. Latisan to talk over your business.”

“I can’t blame you for going,” said Latisan. He followed her, and to her profound amazement she discovered that a woodsman could be as temperamental as a prima donna. “I’m going, too, Mr. Flagg,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m going for good and all where you’re concerned. I’m done with you. I gave you your fair warning. Send another man north to the drive.”

“Just one minute, there, Latisan!” called the master, harshly. “Unless you’re afraid to stay here that length of time or can’t spare the minute away from your wench!”

The drive master stopped at the door and spun around on his heel.

There had been but one flash of the light’s rays on Lida—the old man had immediately allowed the shade to drop; standing just beyond the doorway in the hall, she was safely in the shadows.

“If you expect to hear me whinny like a sick horse you’re mistaken,” went on Flagg, with the staccato of ire. “Now I know what you’re worth. You have appraised yourself. A girl’s grin has bought you. I don’t know what sort she is, nor care I. But unless she’s a fool she can see what you’re worth, too. Go along, now!”

There was compunction in Latisan, and he realized it. But there was that untamed spirit of old John, as well, and it made for rancor and rebellion.

In that room at the moment old John’s spirit was veritably present in the grandson, reviving the ancient north-country duello of unconquered wills with old Echford in the flesh—and a Latisan had never lowered the crest before a Flagg.

“It’s a cheap hired man you want!” Compromise was offered no opportunity by young Latisan’s manner and tone. “Hire one—of your picking! And a devilish fine boss that kind will make for you!”

“I’ll hire nobody,” roared Flagg. “I’ll ride to the head of the drive in this chair. Even with both sides of me paralyzed I’ll be worth more than you are, you lallygagging, love-cracked loon! Get out of here!”

When the two were outside in the night the girl faced Latisan. “I insist on going alone, sir. You have no right to leave a helpless man as you’re doing. I cannot believe that you mean what you said just now!”

“I’m through! I have let him curse me out all along and I took it whence it came. But this time it’s different.”

“Please go back to him.”

“I will not. I’m done!”

The grim thought came to her that she had ineluctably become a valuable operative in the interests of the Vose-Mern agency. According to appearances the work was finished. However, she promptly blazed into indignation which rang true. “I’m only a stranger to that poor old man. He did not understand. I had no right to rush in on him as I did.”

“I had the right to invite you.”

“I won’t have it on my conscience that I have been a party to this break between you two. If it were not so dreadful it would be silly, sir.”“I have the right to be silly about my own business, if you’re bound to call it silly, what I have done.”

“Go back, I tell you!”

“I will not!”

“You shall not walk away with me.”

“I invited you to come up here. I shall see you to the door of that tavern. You may never speak to me again, but you won’t be able to say about me that I deserted you in the dark night.”

“Will you come back here after you have escorted me to the tavern?”

“No! It’s settled into a stand-off between Flagg and me.”

“Don’t you want to please me?”

“Yes, even to lying down here in the mud and letting you walk on me,” he declared, his fervor breaking from the repression he had been maintaining with difficulty. “And it’s because he has insulted somebody that I feel like that toward—that’s why I’m done with him. I’m not putting it very smoothly. But it’s in here!” He pounded his fist on his breast.

“Mr. Latisan, this is folly. I’m only a waitress.”

“I’m thanking God that you are and that you aren’t too high above me, as I was afraid you were when I met you in New York. You’re down where I can talk to you.”

She started to walk away, but he leaped and seized both her arms. “This is going mighty fast,” he gasped. “I never talked to a girl in this way in all my life. I’ll probably never dare to talk to you if I wait for daylight to-morrow—I’ll be too scared of my thoughts overnight.”She did not try to twist herself free from his grasp; she was more self-possessed than he was—he was trembling in all his frame.

“It’s like dynamite,” he stammered. “I reckon it was in me all the time! The first flash of your eyes lighted the fuse! I’ve blown up.” He pulled her close to him, flung his arms about her, and kissed her. But immediately he loosed her and stepped back. “I didn’t intend to do that! My feelings got away from me.”

“And now may I go along?” she inquired, coldly, after he had remained silent for a time.

“I’m sorry I have made you angry. I don’t know how to go at a thing like this one I’m tackling,” he said contritely. “But I feel that talking out straight and man fashion is the only way. Will you marry me?”

“Certainly not, sir!”

He did not attempt to stay her when she walked on. He trod humbly by her side.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t. But I couldn’t keep back the asking any more than I can push back that flood you can hear down in the gorge. It just had to pour along, that asking!”

“Mr. Latisan, you astonish me. You desert your employer on account of a mere whim——”

“Don’t you call my standing up for you any whim, if you please!” The change in his tone from humility to stern and masterful command caused her to catch her breath. She was not accustomed to dominance by men.

“At any rate, sir, you have proposed marriage to a stranger, a mere come-by-chance into this place, not knowing who or what I am. I have a right to be astonished.”

“Probably! But you aren’t any more so than I was in New York when I realized what had happened to me.”

“So, now you can forget all about me and go back to your work on the drive!”

“You have said I did not know much about you. It’s plain you don’t know me! I have told Eck Flagg I am done. And I am! You don’t understand. I’m a Latisan and——” he faltered then; it sounded like boyish boasting and he was a bit ashamed.

“Somehow that helpless old man has stirred all my sympathy. Why won’t you do as I ask?”

“Because a girl who throws a man down as you have hasn’t any right to ask him to do this or that.”

They were near the tavern before either spoke again.

“I’m not saying that I’m not sorry for Eck Flagg,” the drive master stated. “I don’t want you to leave me to-night with the idea that I’m a quitter or a coward or a sneak about what’s my duty. I’ll be honest with you. You think I’m a fool because I’ve fallen in love with you so suddenly. A man who has tussled with drives and log jams for as many years as I have needs to think quickly, make up his mind about what it’s right to do, and then stick to it. I’m not going to sacrifice myself for Flagg—a man with the hard heart that’s in him.” He caught his breath and plunged on: “You say to-night that you won’t marry me. I’m going to stay close by and see if you won’t change your mind. A roaring fire is in me right now!” His demeanor terrified her. The primitive man was blazing. “I don’t dare to take the chances on what would be in me if I should go back to the drive and leave you here to be smirked at by every cheap man who comes along. I have dreamed too much about you!” He was wooing with the avatar of old John. “By the gods! you’re my girl! I’m going to have you! I’ll stay on that job!”

“I shall leave this place to-morrow. It will be very—well, very unwise for you to annoy me.”

“I’m going to follow you.”

“Mr. Latisan, I have listened to you; you shall listen to me!” She spoke sharply. Now she displayed the equipoise of one who had learned much from self-reliant contact with men. “I’ll not argue with you about what you call love. But there’s something which love must have, and that’s self-respect. If your folly on account of me takes you away from your honest duty you’ll despise me when you come to yourself. You have been honest with me. I’ll be honest with you. I like you. I can see that you’re a big, true man—much different from most of the men I have met before this. But I shall lose all my good opinion of you if you desert your job. And, as I have said, you’ll hate me if I allow you to do so. Can we afford to take chances?”

While he pondered she made hurried mental account of stock in her own case.

She was not admitting that she felt any especial consideration for this man as a lover; she was protecting her grandfather and striving for her own peace of mind as a payer of a debt of honor. He followed her when she walked on toward the tavern.

“May I ask what you mean by taking chances? Chances on being something more to each other than we are now?” he asked, wistfully.

“I think we have gone quite far enough for one evening, sir.”

He pulled off his cap. “Before I go to sleep I shall say my little prayer. I shall ask that you won’t be thinking I have gone too far. I’m sure it won’t be a prayer to the God of the Old Testament, such as Eck Flagg was reading about. I’ll whisper up to Mother Mary. She understands women. I don’t.”

He bowed in silence when she gave him a hasty “good night!”

Latisan whirled suddenly after the girl closed the door behind her—came about on his heels so quickly that he nearly bumped into the assiduous operative Crowley, who had been taking desperate chances that evening.

But Latisan’s gaze was directed downward in deep thought as he walked slowly away, and he did not perceive the eavesdropper.

Mr. Crowley had heard aplenty, so he informed himself; he had followed them all the way from the big house down to the tavern, treading close behind, depending on their absorption in each other, his shoes in his hand, not minding the ledges and the mud; and he was in his mental stocking feet, too, treading on the bedrock of the obvious, as he figured on the proposition.

He had been told many times, Mr. Crowley had, that he possessed a single-track mind and was not fitted to deal with the subtleties of criminal investigation and had not the expansive wit to comprehend the roundabout ways of steering victims to their doom. But Mr. Crowley was indubitably fitted by training to write a handbook on the art of double-crossing—and he reckoned he knew an out-and-out job of that sort after what he had heard that evening. For his own peace of mind, and to save himself from going crazy by reason of any more puzzlement over Miss Kennard’s alleged mysterious methods in her work, he kept insisting to himself that she was merely double-crossing the Vose-Mern agency in the good old-fashioned way. Not his the task to wonder why!

He rushed up to his room and started in on his report. It had stuck in Crowley’s crop—seemed humiliating—to be made a subaltern in the case of women operatives. He believed that at last he was in right and proper on the grand opportunity of his career; he would come down from the bush with the bacon; Elsham had fallen down and Kennard was double-crossing—and Crowley, good old reliable Crowley, would show Chief Mern where the credit should go! He set his little, cheap typewriter on his sturdy knees and pecked away stolidly with his forefingers.

Latisan remained outdoors a long time, for the night matched the gloom of his thoughts. And once more, in spite of himself, his dark ponderings concerned themselves with suspicions as to what and who this girl really was.

In his early deference to her he had been ready and willing to believe all she said about herself, and his suspicion had seemed to be extinguished; he realized that it merely had been smoldering. Why would not a waitress marry him, one of the Latisans of the Tomah? Was he what old Flagg had so inelegantly stated—a sapgag where a girl was concerned? He began to distrust his strength as a man; he had wasted a day in New York; he was ready to give up his man’s job on the Noda because he could not get his thoughts away from her and on his work. His last stay at headwaters had been hours of torture. He had gone to sleep dreaming of the girl instead of putting his attention on the problems of the morrow—and the details of the drive that spring needed all sorts of judgment and foresight.

While he was in that state of mind, trying to excuse defection, he told himself, as he trudged to and fro, that he was not a fit man for Flagg. Nevertheless he cursed himself for being so weak. He had read stories of woman’s subjugation of the famous and the strong and had wondered what sort of lunacy had overtaken such men. Here he was making an invalid’s tantrums an excuse to give up his work and dangle at the skirts of an unknown girl; and he knew it was because of the mystery of her real identity and because his jealousy was afire on account of an uncertainty which was now aggravated by her refusal to marry him.

Latisan had not been in the village ten minutes that afternoon before Gossip Dempsey had giggled and told him he’d better keep sharp watch on his girl, because the jewelry man was everlastingly after her like a puppy chasing the butcher’s cart; the simile was not nice, but Latisan was impressed by its suggestion of assiduity.

In the tumult of his thought, grudgingly conscious that he was ashamed of the real reason for giving up his work, Latisan evasively decided that the thing was now up to Echford Flagg. He had warned Flagg man fashion. He had given his word to Flagg as to what would happen if Flagg persisted in treating him like a lackey. Flagg had persisted. Latisan had kept his word. He could not retreat from that stand; he could not crawl back to Flagg and still maintain the self-respect that a drive master must have in the fight that was ahead.

Therefore, Latisan decided to stay in Adonia and let Flagg make overtures; for their future relations the drive master would be able to lay down some rules to govern Flagg’s language and conduct. Under that decision persisted the nagging consciousness that he wanted to be with the girl instead of on the drive and he was more and more ashamed of the new weakness in his character. And he was also ashamed of the feeling that he wanted to find out more about her. In the past his manliness had despised prying and peering. He had been able to bluster loyally to old Dick; he was more truthful to himself. What was she, anyway? He would not admit that he had been so completely tipped upside down in all his hale resolves, aims, and objects by a mere nonentity who looked no higher than a job as waitress at Brophy’s tavern.

Then he went into the tavern out of the darkness and blinked at the landlord, who called him to the desk and gave a letter into his hands. It was sealed, but there was no stamp on it.

“Ordered by Mrs. Everett to hand it to you,” reported Brophy, sourly. “She wanted to see you last time you were down, but it slipped my mind to tell you.”

Latisan read the note. The lady of the parlor entreated him to come to her on a matter of business, no matter how late the hour might be. He tore up the paper on his way to the fireplace and tossed the bits on the embers.

“Same room for me?” he asked Brophy.

“Yes, but Mrs. Everett said for me——”

“Damn Mrs. Everett! I’m going to bed.”

It consoled him a little, as he walked upstairs, to reflect that he was not dominated by all the women in the world, even if he was in the way of making himself a fool over one.