Sam tied his team to a tree and walked to the door of the shack. Within those twenty paces he experienced a complete revulsion of feeling. Having cast the die, he enjoyed that wonderful lightness of heart that follows on a period of painful indecision.

"What the deuce!" he thought. "What a simpleton I am to worry myself blind! Whatever there is about Bela she doesn't exactly hate me. Why shouldn't I jolly her along? That's the best way to get square. Lord! I'm young. Why shouldn't I have my bit of fun?"

It was in this gay humour that he crossed the threshold. Within he saw a long oilcloth-covered table reaching across the room, with half a score of men sitting about it on boxes.

"Hey, fellows! Look who's here!" cried Mahooley.

A chorus of derisive welcome, more or less good-natured, greeted the new-comer.

"Why, if it ain't Sammy the stolen kid!"

"Can I believe my eyes!"

"There's pluck for you, boys!"

"You bet! Talk about walking up to the cannon's mouth!"

"Look out, Sam! The rope and the gag are ready!"

"Don't be askeared, kid, I'll pertect you from violence!"

Sam's new-found assurance was proof against their laughter.

"You fellows think you're funny, don't you?" he returned, grinning. "Believe me, your wit is second-hand!"

Mahooley stuck his head out of the back door. "Hey, Bela!" he cried. "Come look at the new boarder I brought you!"

The crowd fell silent, and every pair of eyes turned toward the door, filled with strong curiosity to see the meeting between these two. Sam felt the tension and his heart began to beat, but he stiffened his back and kept on smiling. Bela came in wearing her most unconcerned air. They were not going to get any change out of her!

"Hello, Bela!" cried Sam. "Can I have some supper?"

She looked him over coolly. "Sure," she said. "Sit down by Stiffy."

They roared with laughter at her manner. Sam laughed, too, to hide the discomfiture he privately felt. Sam took his allotted place. The laughter of the crowd was perfectly good-natured, except in the case of one man whom Sam marked.

Opposite him sat Joe Hagland. Joe stared at Sam offensively, and continued to laugh after the others had done. Sam affected not to notice him. To himself he said:

"I've got to fight Joe, big as he is. He stands in my way."

Outside in the canvas kitchen a little comedy was in progress all unknown to the boarders. Bela came back breathing quickly, and showing a red spot in either ivory cheek. Forgetting the supper, she began to dig in her dunnage bag.

Getting out a lace collar, she flew to the mirror to put it on. Her hair dissatisfied her, and she made it fluff out a little under the rich braid which crowned her brow. Finally, she ruthlessly tore a rose from her new hat and pinned it to her girdle as she had seen Jennie Mackall do.

She turned around to find old Mary Otter staring at her open-mouthed while the turnovers in the frying-pan sent up a cloud of blue smoke.

"The cakes are burning!" stormed Bela. "What's the matter with you? All that good grease! Do I pay you to spoil good food? You gone crazy, I think!"

"Somebody else crazy I think me," muttered the old woman, rescuing the frying-pan.

Bela's boarders were not a very perspicacious lot, but when she came in again to serve the dinner the dullest among them became aware of the change in her. The lace collar and the rose in her belt were significant enough, but there was more than that.

Before she had been merely the efficient hostess, friendly to all—but sexless. Now she was woman clear through; her eyes flashed with the consciousness of it, there was coquetry in every turn of her head, and a new grace in every movement of her body.

The effect on the company was not a happy one. The men lowered jealousy on Sam. The atmosphere became highly charged. Only Sam's eyes lighted with pleasure.

Sam, Bela pointedly ignored. It was on Joe that she bestowed all her smiles. No one present was deceived by her ruse excepting Joe himself, whose vanity was enormously inflated thereby. Sam's instinct told him that it was to himself her coquetry was addressed.

After the humiliations she had put upon him, it was deliciously flattering thus to see her in her own way suing for his favour. This made him feel like a man again. He was disposed to tease her.

"Hey, Bela!" he cried. "What kind of soup is this?"

"No kind," she retorted. "Jus' soup."

"The reason I asked, a fellow told me you made your soup out of muskrat-tails and goose-grass."

"I put the goose-grass in for you," said Bela.

Shouts of laughter here.

Bela lowered her head and whispered in Joe's ear. Joe guffawed with an insolent stare across at Sam. Sam smiled undisturbed, for the provoking glance which had accompanied the whisper had been for him. Joe had not seen that.

"What's next?" demanded Sam.

"Wait and see," said Bela.

"They say your toasted bull-bats are out o' sight."

"I save them for my regular boarders."

"Count me in!" cried Sam. "It was only the yarns of the poisonous food that kept me away before. Now I'm inoculated I don't care!"

Sam proceeded to higher flights of wit. The other men stared. This was a new aspect of the stiff-necked young teamster they had known. They did not relish it overmuch. None of them dared talk back to Bela in just this strain.

Meanwhile Bela scorned Sam outrageously. Beneath it he perceived subtle encouragement. She enjoyed the game as much as he did, and little he cared how the men were pleased. The choicest morsels found their way to Sam's plate.

Sam's eyes were giving away more than he knew. "You are my mark!" they flashed on Bela, while he teased her, and Bela's delighted, scornful eyes answered back: "Get me if you can!"

In the end Sam announced his intention of investigating the kitchen mysteries. Bela chased him back to his seat, belabouring his back soundly with a broom-handle. The company looked on a little scandalized. They knew by instinct the close connection between love and horse-play.

The party broke up early. Up to to-night every man had felt that he had an equal chance, but now Bela was making distinctions. As soon as they finished eating, they wandered outside to smoke and make common cause against the interloper. For their usual card-game they adjourned to Stiffy and Mahooley's.

Only Joe and Sam were left, one sitting on each side of the fire with that look in his eyes that girls know of determination not to be the first to leave.

Bela came and sat down between them with sewing. Her face expressed a calm disinterestedness now. The young men showed the strain of the situation each according to his nature. Joe glowered and ground his teeth, while Sam's eyes glittered, and the corners of his mouth turned up obstinately.

"The fool!" thought the latter. "To give me such an advantage. He can't hide how sore he is. I will entertain the lady."

"That's a great little team of mine! They keep me laughing all day with their ways. They're in love with each other. At night I picket Sambo, and Dinah just sticks around. Well, the other night Sambo stole some of her oats when she wasn't looking, and she was sore. She didn't say anything, but waited till he went to sleep, then she stole off and hid behind the willows.

"Well, say, when he woke up there was a deuce of a time! He ran around that stake about a hundred times a minute, squealing like a pig at the sight of the knife. Miss Dinah, she heard him all right, but she just stayed behind the willows laughing.

"After a time she came walking back real slow, and looking somewhere else. Say, he nearly ate her up. All the way around the bay he was promising he'd never steal another oat, so help me Bob! but she was cool toward him."

Bela laughed demurely. She loved stories about animals.

While he talked on in his light style Sam was warily measuring his rival.

"It'll be the biggest job I ever tackled," he thought. "He's got thirty pounds on me, and ring training. But he's out of condition and I'm fit. He loses his head easily. I'll try to get him going. Maybe I can turn the trick. I've got to do it to make good up here. That would establish me for ever."

At the end of one of Sam's stories Bela stood up. "Time for go. Both!" she said succinctly.

Sam got up laughing. "Nothing uncertain about that," he said. He waited for Joe by the door.

Joe was sunk in a sullen rage. "Go ahead," he said, sneering.

"After you," Sam retorted with a smile.

Joe approached him threateningly, and they stood one on each side of the door, sizing each other up with hard eyes. The smallest move from either side would have precipitated the conflict then. Bela slipped through the other door and came around the house.

"Joe!" she called from in front.

He drove through the door, followed by Sam.

"Anyhow he didn't make me go first," thought the latter.

Bela faced them with her most scornful air. "You are foolish! Both foolish! Lak dogs that growl. Go home!"

Somewhat sheepishly they went to their respective teams. Bela turned back into the house. As they drove out side by side they looked at each other again. Sam laughed suddenly at Joe's melodramatic scowl.

"Well, ta-ta, old scout!" he said mockingly.

"Damn you!" said Joe thickly. "Keep away from me! If you tread on my toes you're going to get hurt! I've a hard fist for them I don't like!"

Sam jeered. "Keep your toes out of my path if you don't want them trodden on. As for fists, I'll match you any time you want."

Joe drove off around the bay, and Sam headed for Grier's Point, whistling.

Next morning he awoke smiling at the sun. Somehow since yesterday the world was made over. As usual he had Grier's Point to himself. His bed was upon spruce-boughs at the edge of the stony beach. Stripping, he plunged into the icy lake, and emerged pink and gasping.

After dressing and feeding his horses, upon surveying his own grub-box—salt pork and cold bannock!—it took him about five seconds to decide to breakfast at Bela's. This meant the hard work of loading his wagon on an empty stomach. Unlocking the little warehouse, he set to work with a will.

Three hours later he drove in before the stopping-house, and, hitching his team to the tree, left them a little hay to while the time. The "resteraw" was empty. Other breakfast guests had come and gone.

"Oh, Bela!" he cried.

She stuck her head in the other door. Her expression was severely non-committal.

"Bela, my stomach's as empty as a stocking on the floor! I feel like a drawn chicken. For the love of mercy fill me up!"

"It's half-past eight," she said coldly.

"I know, but I had to load up before I could come. A couple of slices of breakfast bacon and a cup of coffee! Haven't tasted coffee in months. They say your coffee is a necktie for the gods!"

"I can't be cooking all day!" said Bela, flouncing out.

Nevertheless he heard the stove-lids clatter outside, and the sound of the kettle drawn forward. He was going to get fresh coffee at that!

In a few minutes it was set before him; not only the coffee with condensed milk, a luxury north of fifty-four, but fried fish as well, and a plate of steaming cakes. Sam fell to with a groan of ecstasy. Bela stood for a moment watching him with her inscrutable, detached air, then turned to go out.

"I say," called Sam with his mouth full, "pour yourself a cup of coffee, and come and drink it with me."

"I never eat with the boarders," she stated.

"Oh, hang it!" said Sam like a lord, "you give yourself too many airs! Go and do what you're told."

He found a delicious, subtle pleasure in ordering her about. As for Bela, she gasped a little and stared, then her eyes fell—perhaps she liked it too. Anyhow, she shrugged indifferently, cast a look out of the window to see if anyone was coming up the road, and disappeared in the kitchen. Presently she returned with a steaming cup, and, sitting opposite Sam, stirred it slowly without looking up.

Sam's eyes twinkled wickedly. "That's better. You know with all these fellows coming around and praising up your grub and everything, you're beginning to think you're the regular queen of Beaver Bay. You need to be taken down a peg!"

"What do you care?" she asked.

"Bless you, I don't care," replied Sam. "I'm only telling you for your own good. I don't like to see a nice girl get her head turned."

"What's the matter wit' you so quick?" retorted Bela. "You're talkin' pretty big since yesterday."

Sam laughed delightedly. His soul was not deceived by her scornful airs, nor was hers by his pretended hectoring. While they abused each other, each was thrilled by the sense of the other's nearness. Moreover, each knew how it was with the other.

Sam, having eaten his fill, planted his elbows, and leaned nearer to her across the narrow board. She did not draw back. Under the table their moccasined feet touched by accident, and each breast was shaken. Bela slowly drew her foot away. Their heads involuntarily came closer. The sweetness that emanated from her almost overpowered him.

His breath came quicker; his eyes were languorous and teasing. Bela gave him her eyes and he saw into them a thousand fathoms deep. It was that exquisite moment when the heart sees what the tongue will not yet acknowledge, when nearness is sweeter than touch. Yet he said with curling lip:

"You need a master!"

And she answered scornfully: "You couldn't do it."

There was a sound of wheels outside. They sprang up. Sam swore under his breath. Bela looked out of the door.

"It's Joe," she said.

Sam hardened.

"You've got to go," she said swiftly and peremptorily. "You've finished eating. I won't have no trouble here."

Sam scowled. "Well—I'll go after he comes in," he returned doggedly. "I won't run away at the sight of him."

Joe entered with a sullen air. He had already seen Sam's team outside.

"Morning," said Sam. His was the temper that is scrupulously polite to an enemy.

Joe muttered in his throat.

"Well, I'm just off," observed Sam. "How's the mud?"

Joe sneered. "No worse than usual," he replied.

It was hard for Sam to go after the sneer. He hesitated. But he had promised. He looked at Bela, but she would not meet his eye. Finally he shrugged and went out. They heard him talking to his horses outside. Joe, scowling and avoiding Bela's eye, dropped into the seat the other man had vacated.

"Breakfast," he muttered.

Bela knew very well that it was his custom to eat before he started out in the morning. She said nothing, but glanced at the clock on the dresser.

"Ah, you'll feed him any time he wants!" snarled Joe.

"I treat everybody the same," she answered coolly. "You can have breakfast if you want."

"Well, I do," he muttered.

She went into the kitchen and started her preparations. Returning, she cleared away the dirty dishes, not, however, before Joe had marked the second cup on the table.

When she put his food before him he said: "Get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down with me." He was really trying to be agreeable, not, however, with much success.

"I got work to do," Bela mildly objected.

He instantly flared up again. "Ah! I thought you treated everybody the same!"

Bela shrugged, and, bringing coffee, sat down opposite him.

There was a silence. Joe, merely playing with the food on his plate, watched her with sullen, pained eyes, trying to solve the riddle of her. One could almost see the simple mental operations. Sam got along with her by jollying her. Very well, he would do the same.

"I ain't such a bad sort when I'm took right," he began, with a ghastly attempt to be facetious.

"No?"

"I like my joke as well as another."

"Yes?"

"You're a deep one!" he said with a leer, "but you can't fool me."

"Eat your breakfast," said Bela.

"This mysteriousness is a bluff!"

"Maybe."

Lacking encouragement, he couldn't keep this up long. He fell silent again, staring at her hungrily. Suddenly, with a sound between an oath and a groan, he swept the dishes aside. Bela sprang up warily, but he was too quick for her. Flinging an arm across, he seized her wrist.

"By George! I can't stand it any longer!" he cried. "What's behind that smooth face of yours? Ain't you got no heart making a man burn in hell like me?"

"Let go my arm!" said Bela.

"You're mine!" he cried. "You've got to be! I've said it, and I stick to it. If any man tries to come between us I'll kill him!"

"Let go my arm!" she repeated.

"Not without a kiss!"

Instantly Bela was galvanized into action. Some men are foredoomed to choose the wrong moment. Joe was hopelessly handicapped by the table between them. He could not use his strength. As he sought to draw her toward him Bela, with her free hand, dealt him a stinging buffet on the ear.

They fell among the dishes. The coffee scalded him, and he momentarily relaxed his hold. Bela wriggled clear, unkissed. Joe capsized of his own weight, and, slipping off the end of the table, found himself on his back among broken dishes on the floor.

He picked himself up, scarcely improved in temper. Bela had disappeared. He sat down to wait for her, dogged, sheepish, a little inclined to weep out of self-pity.

Even now he would not admit the fact that she might like another man—a small, insignificant man—better than himself. Joe was the kind of man who will not take a refusal.

In a few minutes, getting no sign of her, he got up and looked into the tent kitchen. Old Mary Otter was there, alone, washing dishes with a perfectly bland face.

"Where's Bela?" he demanded, scowling.

"Her gone to company house for see Beattie's wife mak' jam puddin'," answered Mary.

Joe strode out of the door scowling and drove away. His horses suffered for his anger.