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Updated: May 13, 2025
Followed by the reluctant North he walked away, leaving the gaunt figure of the dam owner gazing after them, his black garments flapping about him, his hands clasped behind his back, his ruffled plug hat thrust from his forehead. "Well!" burst out North, when they were out of hearing. "Well!" mimicked Orde with a laugh. "Are you going to let that old high-banker walk all over you?"
Then he stepped back, the same joy in his soul that inspires a riverman when he encounters a high-banker; a hunter when he takes out a greenhorn, or a cowboy as he watches the tenderfoot about to climb the bronco. "Time!" said he. The first round was sharp. When Gerald called the end, Orde grinned at him cheerfully. "Don't look like I was much at this game, does it?" said he.
"Where th' blazes did ye learn so much of loggin'? I log th' way me father logged, an' I'm not to be taught by a high-banker from th' Muskegon!" Never would he acknowledge the wrong nor promise the improvement, but both were there, and both he and FitzPatrick knew it. The Rough Red chafed frightfully, but in a way his hands were tied.
"Roaring Dick! Rats!" said Silver Jack. "Anybody can do him proper. If that's your 'knocker, you're a gang of high bankers." The other men merely smiled in the manner of those who know. Incidentally Silver Jack was desperately pounded by Big Dan, later in the evening, on account of that "high-banker" remark.
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