LATISAN, going to sleep, hoped that he would awake with a saner viewpoint.

He did admit to himself in the morning that if Echford Flagg should show the right spirit of compromise the thing could be patched up on terms which would allow the drive master to be his own man instead of being a spanked youngster.

The girl seized an opportunity to speak to him when she brought his breakfast. “Things look better this morning—I’m sure they do. Tell me. I worried half the night. I must not be the cause of trouble.”

“Yes, they look better.”

“And you’re starting back to-day for the drive?” Her voice was low but eager. “Tell me that you are!”

His smouldering suspicion! Red tongues of fire darted up from it!

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to get rid of me to-day. Business is keeping me here.”

Her entreating smile faded; she backed way from him as if she had received a rude thrust, and then she went about her work.

There was a real sensation in the tavern that morning! The exclusive star boarder of the parlor came into the public room to eat her breakfast. Her charms were enhanced by a becoming morning wrap, and, following out her liberal code governing the relations of sex in modern days, she seated herself at Latisan’s table, greeting him with a mingling of bright good humor and gentle rebuke.

“Give me a good reason why you have not been the advising friend you promised to be, and I may not be too angry, Mr. Latisan.”

“I—I thought I’d wait till this morning——”

“Thank you! Then I’m welcome at your table.”

She lowered her voice after that. She was engrossed with ordinary topics whenever the waitress’s duties brought Lida to the table. If there was to be rivalry between the operatives of Vose-Mern, Miss Elsham decided that her tactics with the Flagg drive master should not be known. She did the talking and Latisan gave the appearance of being an earnest listener. At a matter of fact, he played up strongly his affectation of devoted interest. Ingenuous amateur that he was in the subtleties of love, he was trying out a method which he had heard commended; he was wondering how much an aroused jealousy might accomplish in the case of Miss Patsy Jones.

He cast side glances and saw that she seemed to be disturbed. He bestowed on Mrs. Everett more profound attention. He even allowed himself to say when the waitress was within earshot, “I think I’ll know by to-morrow whether I’m to keep on at the head of the drive. If I don’t and if matters allow, I’ll be glad to take charge of your trip into the north country.”

Latisan, boyishly crude in his methods, felt that Miss Jones would have an interpretation of her own for “matters” and would do some earnest thinking before she turned him over to the companionship of a rich young widow, even in the humble rÔle of a chief guide.

In spite of Brophy’s sign, “No Smoking in This Dining Room”—a restriction intended for woodsmen—Miss Elsham lighted a cigarette in her satisfaction; her failure to interest the man of the woods even to the extent of a second interview had been worrying the seductress de luxe of the Vose-Mern establishment after her unbroken successes with the men of the city.

She went out of the room chatting with Latisan, and found an opportunity to sweep Miss Kennard with a patronizing glance.

Latisan spent the forenoon on the tavern porch, smoking his pipe and waiting—even hoping—for a message from Echford Flagg. Rickety Dick passed the place several times on his usual errands. Flagg, therefore, would be informed that the drive master was loafing in the village. But old Dick did not bring any word from the big house to Latisan.

To be sure, the split of the evening before had seemed discouragingly final. But after the girl’s rebuke and appeal Ward was ashamed of the persisting stubbornness which was making him an idler in that exacting period when the thunderous Noda waters were sounding a call to duty. He did not want her to think of him as vindictive in his spirit, and still less did he desire her to consider him petty in his motives and notions.

On the other hand, the proposition was strictly a man-to-man affair, and Echford Flagg had made relations unendurable.Ward wished devoutly that he could clear his thoughts; they were muddled. Back of the inertia which was hiding him in Adonia there seemed to be reasons other than the new animosity toward his employer. Really, he confessed to himself, he would like to go to Flagg and win to a manlike and mutual understanding which would serve both of them. But he muttered when he looked up at the big house, and he kept on waiting for the master to offer an opening.

He confessed that his was a childish attitude toward an employer. Had he allowed his infatuation to twist him into this being who was putting the burden of an offer of compromise upon a poor old stricken man who ought to be protected from his own intolerance?

However, the drive master was aware of a certain satisfaction in being on hand to watch and weigh affairs in Adonia that day.

The raffle man, as the villagers called Crowley, seemed to have a great deal on his mind, Latisan reflected. Crowley made several trips to the telegraph office at the railroad station.

At dinner Miss Jones averted her eyes from Latisan and there was no talk between them. Latisan tried to comfort himself, by the thought that jealousy was operating. He saw her go out in the afternoon for a walk, but he did not offer to accompany her. His naÏve conviction was that his indifference and the threat of interest in Mrs. Everett would suffice to bring Miss Patsy Jones down from her coquette’s pedestal.

He was tempted to leap up and follow when he saw Crowley trailing after the waitress; but Crowley went only a little distance, and then he came back and went into the tavern and upstairs.

Again in midafternoon old Dick passed, but he brought no word to the waiting drive master.

This insulting indifference, as Latisan considered it, indicated that Echford Flagg was no longer depending on Ward as champion. There had been no misunderstanding of language. Latisan had quit—and Flagg was contented to let him stay quit.

The young man felt more acutely cheap and small. He had been setting himself up as the one man who could drive down the Flagg logs. The fact that he could not bring himself to break away instanter and go north to his duty—without orders from Flagg and without considering further his entanglement with a girl—was a fact that steadily lessened his self-esteem. He had been able to go straightforwardly in all matters till then; this new inability to handle complex affairs and to untangle the situation made him distrust himself and wonder whether he was much of a man, anyway!

Then came night—and he went to his room to brood.

At supper the girl of his thoughts had been conspicuously rude in the manner with which she banged down dishes in front of him.

Lida had been doing some pondering of her own. She would not admit that she had been piqued by his attentions to Elsham and by his partial promise to that complacent young lady. But she was finding him to be very much of a child, she told herself. He needed to be protected from himself at that juncture. And he needed to be convinced that he was wasting his time just then by staying away from duty and playing the lover. Lida’s first thought was that if he found no profit in lovemaking he would go back to his work in spite of what he had told her. She could not bring herself to believe that a man like Latisan would succumb to Elsham’s wiles.

In that mood, both as protectress and as stanch believer in his uprightness, she found that her interest in him was becoming more vivid than she had realized. Her warming heart sent a flush into her cheeks when she remembered the passionate embrace. She noted that flush when she looked into her mirror. She was making herself ready for slumber.

“Don’t be a fool!” she warned the reflection in the mirror.

Having clarified the situation to that extent in her thoughts before going to sleep, she awoke and began the new day with better confidence. The spirit of the Open Places certainly did make folks honest, she told herself! She felt that the morning must have brought common sense to Latisan, as it had to her.

From her window she saw him walking to and fro in front of the tavern. The early dawn was flushing the east. His being abroad at that hour suggested that he was going back to his work instead of playing the idling lover. She decided to be frank with him; she dressed in haste, hurried down and faced him, and told him how glad she was that he had come into his right senses; she had determined that her best course was to take his reformed mental state for granted.

“Yes, I’m sensible enough to quit being a boss bulldog for a man like Eck Flagg.” He was sorry after he said it. But there was no word from Flagg—and her insistence, as if she wanted to be rid of him, rasped his raw temper.

“But you’re going back to the drive!” she gasped.

“I am not.”

“Don’t you value your reputation among men?”

“I do!”

“They’ll say you’re a quitter.” She spoke boldly and sharply.

“Let me tell you something! When you told me that you wouldn’t marry me I came nigh quitting where you’re concerned. But I am back in my right senses, as you say! You’re mine! I have told you so. I tell you again this morning. It’s something of a fix you’ve got yourself into, eh?”

She grew pale and her wide eyes were filled with startled protest; he was placid enough, but his calmness made the thing more grim and threatening when she reflected on the suggestiveness of that word “fix.” She was unable to endure his scrutiny. He did not try to restrain her when she turned away, hastening into the tavern.

Brophy came into the dining room when he heard her setting the tables. “Well, by swanny! You’re up without being called! You ain’t much like the others I’ve had here!”

He was silent for some time, and when she turned she found him surveying her with curious intentness. “It ain’t none of my business, of course, but I hope you ain’t of a marrying notion, just yet awhile.”

“That remark seems a little uncalled for, Mr. Brophy.”“I’m speaking out because Ward Latisan doesn’t seem to be the flirting kind, miss. You can’t fool with him.”

“I thank you. I shall avoid Mr. Latisan from now on. I have thoughtlessly taken walks with him.”

“If it’s such a thing as you’re intending to get married I’d rather lose you to Latisan than to anybody else in this region. He’s solid goods, miss! Solid!”

She was seeking confirmation to strengthen her resolves. “I hear that his employer is an invalid. I suppose that makes Mr. Latisan pretty nigh indispensable, doesn’t it?”

“There’ll be no Flagg drive down this spring without Ward on the job—I’ll say that much,” declared Brophy, with vigor. “I can’t afford to make any loud talk about the Three C’s, miss,” he went on, lowering his voice cautiously, “because I cater to all comers. But I don’t know another boss driver who couldn’t be scared off or bought off at the present time, considering the hold the big corporation has got on things up this way. They’re bound to monopolize the river—the Three C’s gang. But they can’t freeze out the independents this year if Ward Latisan stays on the job for Eck Flagg. The death clinch comes this season!”

“Where’s your law up this way, Mr. Brophy?” she demanded.

“I guess neither side dares to call on the law right now. Law might tie up everything. Logs have got to come along with the spring driving pitch, and high water won’t wait till lawyers get done arguing.”

He took down a gong and pounded on it with a padded mallet while he marched through the office to the porch and back again. It was the breakfast call.

“I’ll say about Eck Flagg,” he stated, when he hung the gong back on its hook, “that he ain’t so much to blame for his sour temper as some folks are bound to have it. Old Job of the Bible had nothing on Eck for troubles. No matter what he has done, Eck has been a square fighter. Probably you ain’t interested, even to the extent of a hoot, in gossip about the neighbors. But Eck had a bad one put over on him years ago. He hasn’t been right since that time. Square dealing is his religion. But to get his worst trimming right in his own family, it was awful. Son-in-law done it. But I reckon I’d better hang up on that subject, miss. Here comes Latisan for breakfast.”

The landlord plodded out.

This man who seated himself, waiting to be served by her, who was determined to possess her, had been unwittingly alienated by her from the duty which was owed to that helpless grandfather in his extremity.

The reminder which Brophy had tossed at her carelessly had served to rouse her to desperation. She clung to a service table to keep from falling. She staggered when she started to cross the room to Latisan; her hands and feet were prickling as the blood resumed its course in her veins.

“You’re sick,” he suggested, solicitously.

She shook her head. She turned her face from him, afraid of his questioning gaze. “Give your order, please!”

“Bring anything.”

She started away, but turned and hurried back to his table, her face hard with resolution. She feared that the resolution would be weakened by delay; in a few moments others would come into the room.

“I have changed my mind about that offer of marriage. This morning I say, ’Yes!’”

He gaped at her and started to rise.

“Don’t leave that chair!” she commanded, her low tones tense. “There are men in the office looking this way. I’ll marry you when the Flagg drive is down, with you at the head of it, doing your duty. You may think that over while I’m in the kitchen.”

When she returned with food, Latisan, flushed, eager, only partially assured, looked her in the eye, challenging her candor. “That’s straight talk, is it?”

“It is!”

“I thank God! But why—right here in the open—where I can’t——”

“I’ll answer no questions.”

“I’d like to know why you picked out this place to tell me. I can’t be shut away from all the glory in the grandest moment of my life! I want to get up and yell for joy. I want to take you in my arms.”

“I’ll not allow that. Furthermore, you are to leave for the drive immediately after you have eaten your breakfast.” Her manner cowed him.

“Very well!” he returned, meekly. “When I looked into your eyes I knew that your word to me was good!”

She was finding the fixity of his gaze disconcerting and leaned above the table, arranging the dishes which contained his food. She was grateful for the protection the public room was affording; she would not have been able to declare herself in the privacy which love, in most circumstances, demands.

“Who are you?” he asked, in a half whisper, taking advantage of her nearness. “You are more than you seem to be. You are, I say! You are not silly and selfish like most girls in a time like this. You are able to make me do anything you ask. I’ll go north and fight because you want me to. But an ordinary girl wouldn’t take a big view of things, as you do.”

“Yes—for the sake of having a man be what he ought to be.”

He wagged his head doubtfully. “But if you’ll tell me the honest truth about——”

“Hush! Here comes a man.”

It was Crowley. He had looked from his chamber window and had seen the two in conversation in front of the tavern. He was strictly on the job that day; he had dressed in such a hurry that he was tying his necktie as he entered the room. He sat down at a table and glared grimly at Latisan and the girl; provided with ammunition that fortified his courage, Crowley had resolved to make his bigness in the matter, unafraid.

His appearance at that moment and the manner of his espionage and the memory of what had been said concerning his pursuit of the girl stirred Latisan to the depths. His emotions had been in a tumult ever since the girl had declared her promise. He was in no mood to reason calmly. He could not control himself. He purposed to go to what he thought was his duty as her accepted champion. Therefore, he leaped from his chair, put his arm about her waist, and pulled her across the room, in spite of her resistance.

“Listen to me, you sneak!” he adjured Crowley. “This young lady and I are engaged to be married.”

“Hush!” she cried, in mingled fright and fury. “You promised——It isn’t——”

“I made no promise except to go north because you have asked me to go. I’m going back to my job, and I’ll have the Flagg logs down if I have to smash the bottom out of the river,” he boasted, in his new pride. “Crowley—as I believe your name is—you have heard me announce the engagement. If you give this young lady another twisted look or crooked word while I’m away, may God have mercy on your soul!”

He was talking to the one man who ought to hear that news, so the lover felt, but his voice was raised in his emotion and Brophy and the loungers in the office heard, too.

Latisan kissed her once, swiftly and rapturously.

According to the code of social procedure in Adonia, as the office onlookers viewed the matter of congratulation, the occasion called for three cheers; they were proposed and given and even Brophy joined, but with sour grace.

She had endeavored ineffectually to check Latisan’s outburst, understanding fully the interlocking perils involved in the promulgation to Crowley that the drive master was going back to his work. It had become her own personal, vital affair, this thing! She was far from admitting even then that love was urging her to the promise she had made so precipitately. The wild spirit of sacrifice had surged in her. She was able to pay—to redeem! It was all for the sake of the family! But this love-cracked idiot, babbling his triumph, had thrown wide the gate of caution—had exposed all to the enemy; she feared Crowley in his surly, new mood!

Poor Ward turned to her a radiant, humid stare of devotion; she responded by flashing fury at him from her eyes. Her cheeks were crimson. “Haven’t you any wit in you?” she raged, holding her tones in leash with effort, her convulsed face close to his amazed countenance.

“It was to put you right——” he stammered.

“It has made everything all wrong!”

Men had come into the room. She hurried away from the dumfounded lover.

While she went about her work, sedulously keeping her gaze from Latisan, she heard the men jocosely canvassing the matter. They called to the drive master, giving him clumsy congratulation. There were timber cruisers who were going into the north country; they declared with hilarity that they would spread the news. They ate and went stamping away, news bureaus afoot.

She marched to the pathetic incarnation of doubt and dolor after a time; he was lingering at table in a condition that was near to stupefaction.

“Why aren’t you on your way?” she demanded, with ireful impatience.

“You’ll have to tell me what the matter is with you!”“I’ll tell you nothing—not now! But you have something to tell Mr. Flagg, haven’t you?”

“You’re right! I’ll go and tell him that I’m starting for the drive. If I have to smash the hinges off the door of Tophet I’ll put our logs——”

“That’s it!” she cried, eagerly. “Our logs! We’ll call them our logs. Don’t mind because I seemed strange a little while ago. You’ll understand, some day. But now hurry! Hurry!” She forced herself to smile. She was eagerly in earnest, almost hysterical. She spoke his name, though with effort. “Remember, Ward! Our logs! Bring them through!”

He leaped out of his chair. The other breakfasters were gone. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

Immediately after Latisan had left on his way to assure Echford Flagg, the girl was reminded of her putative Vose-Mern affiliations. Crowley lounged back into the room, taking advantage of the fact that she was alone. “Put me wise as to why you’re playing this shot with the reverse English.”

“Hands off, Crowley! You’re only a watchdog, paid to guard me.”

“I don’t propose to have our folks double-crossed. You have started that drive boss back onto his job, and you and he announce an engagement this morning! You’re cagy or crazy! I won’t have anything put over! If you’re straight, come through to me and I’ll back you. Otherwise——” He tossed his hands in an eloquent gesture.

“I’ll wire to have you pulled down to the city.”

“I have done some wiring ahead of you. It’s up to our folks to find out what’s the big idea.”“Crowley, won’t you leave it all to me?” she pleaded, fighting to the last ditch for her secret and for time. “Can’t you see that I’m placing a double-crosser in the enemy’s camp?”

He looked at her hard and long and his lips curled into a sardonic grin. “You’re a good one. I’ll admit that. But you can’t stand there and give me the straight eye and make me believe you have made over Latisan to that extent. I’ve got him sized. It can’t be done!”

Crowley was right—she could not meet his sophisticated gaze.

“What do you expect me to do?” she asked, lamely.

“Keep him off the drive. If he starts to leave this village to-day I’m going to grab in.”

She knew Crowley’s obstinacy in his single-track methods. There was no telling what he would undertake nor what damage might be wrought by his interference. She tried to force from him his intentions; he paid no heed to her appeals or her threats.

She was fighting for her own with all the wit and power that were in her; she was standing in the path by which the enemies must advance, resolved to battle as long as her strength might last, serving as best she could to distract attention from the main fight to herself, willing to sacrifice herself utterly.

Crowley walked with a bit of a swagger from the room, lighted a cigarette in the office, puttered for a few moments with some old newspapers on a table, and then went out of doors and strolled along the road in the direction of the big house on the hill. She observed his course from a side window. She felt the impulse to run after him and beat her fists against that broad and stubborn back.

She saw Latisan come striding down from the Flagg mansion, determination in his manner.

The two men met. They halted.

Her apprehension became agony, but she did not dare to interfere between them.