Kendrick joined McCorquodale on the run. It needed but a glance over the rock to observe two members of the gang approaching the base of the hill through the woods, one carrying a flaring pine-knot torch, the other a piece of white canvas tied to a stick. They were coming for a parley.

Phil summoned his little party around him for a hasty council of war. It looked to be as good an opportunity as they were likely to have for attempting to reach the river. Unless somebody had a better suggestion to offer, let Miss Lawson, Svenson and Jimmy slip away, while McCorquodale and he talked to these fellows on the opposite side of the hill.

"We'll jolly them along as well as we can to give the rest of you as much time as possible. How does it strike you, Miss Lawson? Is the ankle bothering you at all?"

The girl was quite sure of herself. The ankle was all right and she could handle the canoe. When she got to the section shanty she would have Thorlakson get out the handcar and run her down to the nearest telegraph operator and that was all there was to it.

"In that case I can be of greater service as a rearguard," said Kendrick. "Svenson's canoe is plenty large enough for the three of you without overcrowding. It's really built for four, isn't it, Svenson?"

"You bet you life Ay ben smart fallar," grinned the big Swede. "Das ben gude yob, y'batcha. Das har canoe, she ride avay vith seven, den take nodder vun. Yaw, das' rite, alrite."

"What about you and Mr. McCorquodale?" asked Cristy.

"Don't worry about us. We'll try to follow you as soon as possible, but on no account are you to wait for us, once you reach the river. We may be—delayed somewhat. If you watch your step and get any kind of an even break on the luck, you'll get through O.K.

"Svenson, listen to me carefully, now. You are to make it your first business to protect Miss Lawson—at any cost. If you are discovered by a sentry, silence him before he makes a noise. If you can't find your own canoe, take any one you see; you'll find ours drawn up in the bushes to the left of the trail, not far from the flat rock. It'll only hold two; so you get Stiles and Miss Lawson afloat, then hump back here. You understand, now? If they haven't touched the big canoe you are to go along with the others; you are to come back only if the canoe is too small to take you also. And if you get into trouble—fight!"

"Ay goin' tew rase hell," grinned Svenson, growling with delight as he swung the big club with which he had armed himself and tapped the hunting knife in his belt. "Don't Ay toll you dat Ay ben gude smart mans? Veil, by golly, das no yoke! Yust vatch may rase hell an' soak dem on da hed!"

"Not unless you can't possibly get away without a fight, remember," warned Phil. "If it comes to a showdown, Miss Lawson,—if you are discovered—you are to slip out of sight into the woods immediately. And that means immediately, please. Don't wait for anything. Stiles and Svenson will hold them back long enough for you to reach a canoe. And for God's sake, get in and away as fast as you can go. You are the one on whom most depends, remember. You must get away without fail, no matter what happens to the rest of us.

"Jimmy, you are to stick with Svenson if there's a fight and help him all you can. In an emergency your help might just turn the whole trick. Get hold of a club as soon as you get down the hill. If we only had some more guns! There's only the two revolvers and Cork and I'll need those to put up a front. We'll join you as fast as possible if you get into trouble. Miss Lawson is an expert canoeist and the river is not difficult; so she'll be all right. Stick with Svenson, Jimmy."

Satisfied that all of them understood their parts, he told them to wait for his signal to creep down the hill, and turned to the side that faced the camp. The two men, carrying the torch and the white flag, had almost reached the foot of the hill by this time and as they showed no indication of halting, Kendrick stopped them with a sharp command.

"That's close enough!" he called in warning. "What do you want?"

"Red sent us over to find out what'n hell you fellas means by grabbin' off one o' our men."

"He's not one of your men," denied Phil.

"You're a liar!" cried the man who was carrying the flag. "He belongs to our party an' we want him back damn quick or we'll come an' take him. What're you holdin' him prisoner fer? You let him go, Mister, an' there won't be no more fuss about it."

"All right. If he wants to go back to the camp, he can go. Wait a minute and I'll ask him."

He made a pretense of doing so.

"Away you go now! Don't step on any loose stones. Good luck, Miss
Lawson," was what he whispered.

The girl ran over to him and caught his hand.

"I think it's great of you, Mr. Kendrick," she murmured. "Good-bye, and good luck to you also," and with that she was gone; but he thrilled at the farewell pressure of her fingers.

"Hi, you, up there! We can't wait here all night."

"There seems to be a slight misunderstanding, old man," placated Phil. "He says he prefers to stay here. He says you kept him prisoner over there and didn't give him enough to eat."

"Aw, he's full o' hooch!" cried the spokesman with a loud guffaw. "He'll be gittin' a heluva lot less grub where he is. Say, are you guys goin' to be good sports or aincha? Red told me to invite the bunch over to camp fer a snort. C'm on over an' hev a drink on us an' cut out the shenanigans."

"Now, that sounds pretty decent of you," approved Phil. "Wait till I see what the rest say."

He ducked down again to find McCorquodale crossing from the opposite side of "The Saucer," where he had been keeping eyes and ears open for a surprise attack in case the white flag was but a treacherous ruse.

"Everythin' jake so far, 'bo," whispered he with elation. "They's down to level ground 'thout a peep—slick as a whistle."

"Good," breathed Phil. He climbed again into view. "Listen, boys. My friends say to thank you for the invite, but they aren't thirsty. Did you know that we had a spring of cold water up here?"

The fellow grew angry.

"If youse don't come youse'll be damn sorry, Mister. You've plugged a couple o' our fellas pretty bad an' y'aint goin' to git away with nothin' like that."

"Why, what will you do?"

"We'll damn soon show you, Mister. We've got you surrounded right now." Phil's heart sank; he had been hoping that the sound of an accordeon and singing at the camp meant that most of them were over there. "If we can't do no better, we'll starve youse out in a couple o' days."

"You can't do that," scoffed Phil. "We've got water right here and a big package of concentrated food tablets that will keep us going for weeks. Besides, let me tell you something you don't know. The rest of our Government survey party is due to join us here to-morrow morning, and I'd advise the whole bunch of you to clear out by sunrise or you'll regret it. You're breaking the law, firing at us the way you have."

"Yah! that bluff don't go, Mister."

"We have the law on our side," retorted Kendrick, "and we'll shoot to kill in self defense if you don't leave us strictly alone. We've got——"

He never finished that sentence; for rifle shots and hallooing off towards the river apprized the two anxious defenders of "The Saucer" that the worst had happened. Kendrick crossed to the opposite side in two bounds and found McCorquodale already on top of the rocks, reaching down for his leader's hand.

"We're in for it, old man," said Phil coolly. "Make straight for the trail. We've got to beat them to it."

McCorquodale only swore as he tightened his belt and for the second time they went down the hill in long jumps that sent loose stones crashing through the brushwood. Once on the level they ran for the sounds of trouble as fast as they could make headway through impeding undergrowth. They broke through at last into the tote road and ran at top speed down a straight stretch of it that was like a long aisle between the flanking trunks of spruce and hemlock. There was a sharp turn in the trail at the end of this aisle and judging by the glow of a fire that someone had lighted and the shouts of men in combat, it was just around the turn that the issue was being fought.

"Left, Cork—into the bush!" panted Phil as he heard a shout behind them.

They cut straight through for the bonfire, against the glow of which the tree-trunks began to stand out black. As they approached, Kendrick threw out his arm to stop the detective, and they dropped to the ground and crawled the remaining distance on hands and knees.

Against the firelight towered the black bulk of the giant Swede in the centre of a wild hand-to-hand fight against five of McIvor's men. They were attacking him from all sides at once, and if any of them had been armed with rifles they had thrown these aside in favor of knives and clubs. The fighting was too close for the use of firearms. A sixth man had got it on "da hed" before they had succeeded in knocking the club out of the Swede's hands; he lay, sprawled and still, near the edge of the woods. The sheath in which the sectionman had carried his hunting-knife swung empty as if the knife had been plucked out by one of his assailants; for he was defending himself only with feet and bare hands.

But it was all Svenson needed. He was putting up the fight of his life. It was a beautiful demonstration of Scandinavian defense methods—one man unarmed against five with knives and clubs! His huge arms were working like flails. His powerful, supple body bent and heaved this way and that with powerful sweeps as he met the incessant attack. As fast as they came at him he sent them hurling off their balance.

He seemed to have a defense for every kind of attack. As Kendrick and McCorquodale first got sight of him three of the gang were rushing him simultaneously. He knicked the knife spinning from one man's hand with his heavy hob-nailed boot, grabbed the fellow by the waist and tossed him backward over his head, grabbed a second one and whirled him across his hip clean into the bushes; number three he laid out with a knee in the stomach and an uppercut that must have broken his jaw. All this like lightning. Svenson was indeed proving himself "gude smart mans," and that was, in very truth, "no yoke." Svenson was making good his promise "tew rase hell."

"Oh boy! Oh boy!" McCorquodale kept muttering to himself, pausing an instant in amazed admiration.

One glance assured Kendrick that the girl was nowhere in sight.
Evidently Cristy was carrying out instructions to the letter.

Stiles! Where was Stiles? Jimmy had "stuck," but he had gone under early. He lay prone in the foreground, his face ghastly with a smear of blood across the cheek. The fellow who had done it was still standing there, looking down at the inanimate form.

Distant shouts and the noise of reinforcements approaching through the timber announced the gravity of the situation. In another moment the whole crowd would be upon them.

"I eats this guy up, 'bo," whispered McCorquodale, pointing to Stiles' victor with his thumb, "'n'en I helps Swedie, see. You grabs Jimmy on your back an' beats it fer the canoes. The girl's away already an' Swedie an' me'll join you in a jiff an' the whole bunch of us vamooses, see. You grabs Stiles——"

Kendrick silenced him with a look and together they leaped into the fray. Phil knocked out the man standing beside Stiles with one blow on the head from the butt of his revolver. Shouting encouragement, McCorquodale went to the hard pressed Svenson's assistance—Iron Man McCorquodale, former near middleweight champion—and the light of battle was in his eye.

A man ran out of the bush, his yellow teeth bared in a snarl of rage. He wore a bandage across his forehead and came at Kendrick, levelling his rifle. Just as he pulled the trigger he tripped on a root and pitched full length into the open, the gun exploding harmlessly into the ground. Phil had him by the throat in an instant.

"Kom on! Kom on, by Yiminy!" bellowed Svenson exultantly as he shook his tawny head and blew the blood from his mouth. "Yust took a look at may! Ay ben give you nodder bellyful, y'batcha!" He ducked low to avoid the vicious sweep of a heavy stick, grabbed the assailant by the ankles and swung him around his head as if the man had weighed but twenty pounds. Only two were left facing him now and they fell back before this terrible antagonist, swearing impotently.

McCorquodale had met a new arrival on the scene with a fierce uppercut that felled him like an ox and was slowly pressing a second arrival back into the bush with right and left swings to the face that landed so swift and sure that the fellow literally was blinded by the blows. It was Weiler, and the detective growled as he fought.

The tide of battle gradually was turning. So many of the enemy were down and out that it was beginning to look as if Kendrick and his friends would win through to the river if they could but keep up the terrific pace for a few minutes longer. This, however, was reckoning without the sudden reversion of the odds against them by the arrival of Red McIvor and two more men from the camp. They came running into sight around the turn in the tote road and McIvor was cursing like a wild man as he bore down on the struggle.

If the others had neglected the advantage which fire-arms gave them, not so Red McIvor. Within fifty paces he stopped short, dropped to his knee and deliberately raised his rifle.

"You —— —— fools!" he yelled. "Clear away from them!"

He was aiming at the big Swede; but as Phil finished choking the halfbreed who had attacked him and sprang to his feet, McIvor swung his rifle.

Kendrick dropped in his tracks.

McCorquodale turned quickly at sound of the shot, just in time to see his leader go down. He fired from the hip and at the bark of his automatic Red McIvor pitched over sideways.

For a moment the two men beside him stood gazing down, awe-stricken and dismayed. Then they turned and ran as hard as they could go, back up the logging trail. It was the signal for the retreat of every member of the gang who could slip out of sight into the woods; but not before Svenson had gathered together every weapon they possessed.

With an oath McCorquodale started towards Kendrick; but he stopped when he saw Phil sitting up, grinning at him cheerfully. At the first move of McIvor's rifle in his direction he had thrown himself flat, disconcerting the man's aim.

The detective's bullet, however, had found its mark. Red McIvor lay sprawled grotesquely where he fell. A moment later McCorquodale looked up from his examination.

"Y' can't kill this bird with no thirty-two," he grinned. "He'll be around after a bit, cussin' a blue streak. The bullet bumped him on the bean an' glanced off like it was solid ivory. I slips the bracelets on him, see, an' we takes him along with us. I miss my guess if he aint wanted bad in 'bout every place he's been."

It was an odd procession which filed out on the riverbank twenty minutes later. First came Svenson, carrying across his great shoulder the still unconscious form of the bootlegger. Behind him walked Jimmy Stiles, supported by Kendrick. McCorquodale brought up the rear, loaded down with confiscated rifles.

They found Svenson's big canoe unharmed. The small canoe was gone from its place in the bushes beside the flat rock. In the soft earth at the water's edge they discovered a spare paddle stuck upright and to it was tied a bit of cambric, her handkerchief.

Phil struck a match and examined it carefully, making out a dim "O.K." which she had marked on it with a lead-pencil.

He heaved a breath of relief and smiled as he wrapped it carefully about a dollar bill and tucked it away in his card-case.