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Updated: May 25, 2025
Indeed, he was so impressed that he decided to back-track the heroes' trail and count for himself just how many wolves the pack had numbered. So he got the would-be lumber-jacks for they were greenhorns from the city to point out for him their incoming trail, which he at once set out to back-track.
In the course of their disjointed remarks Thorpe explained that he was looking for work in the woods, and intended, first of all, to try the Morrison & Daly camps at Beeson Lake. "Know anything about logging?" inquired the stranger. "Nothing," Thorpe confessed. "Ain't much show for anything but lumber-jacks. What did you think of doing?" "I don't know," said Thorpe, doubtfully.
Either she'd die or she'd abhor you. And if she didn't die, you'd want to." "I wish to the Lord I had died eight years ago. The great mistake I made was when the lumber-jacks loosed my hand-cuffs and started me through the woods. They called it giving me a chance, and for a few minutes I thought it was one. A chance! Good God! I remember feeling, as I ran, that I was deserting something.
The smile in Hellbeam's eyes was no less ironical than the agent's. "When I was working like a swine." "These lumber-jacks. They knew all that in Standing's mind is?" "No. But I learned it all." "How?" The demand was instant, and a surge of force lay behind it. "Because some I saw. Some I picked up from general talk.
"You'll make an excellent cook for lumber-jacks ... so long as it's something to eat that's stuck under their noses, they don't give a damn!... they're always hungry enough to eat anything ... and can digest anything.... "Get ready! I'm sending you out on one of the waggons by noon." Perched on the high seat of the waggon by the side of the driver!
But by this time the lumber-jacks and I were on terms of proven friendship ... I had told them yarns, and had listened to their yarns, in turn ... the stories of their lives ... and their joys and troubles.... I was reported to Spalton as having been a first-rate cook. I went to work in the bindery again. Every day seemed to bring a new "eccentric" to join our colony.
The two lumber-jacks who stood almost at his side turned at the sound of his voice. For one moment they stared into his face, and then with a wild yell dropped their peavies and fled toward the bunk-house. Other men looked, and from lip to lip flashed the word, "The greener!" Men stared at him dumbly, or turned and dashed for the clearing in a panic of fear.
Leaving home, he found, in a venture at "Yankee notion-pedling," that glibness meant three hundred per cent, in disposing of flimsy wares. In the camp of the lumber-jacks and of the Indian rangers he was regarded as the pride of the mess and the inspirator of the tent. From these stages he rose to be a graduate of the "college" of the yarn-spinner the village store, where he became clerk.
There were active, clean-built, precise Frenchmen, with small hands and feet, and a peculiarly trim way of wearing their rough garments; typical native-born American lumber-jacks powerful in frame, rakish in air, reckless in manner; big blonde Scandinavians and Swedes, strong men at the sawing; an Indian or so, strangely in contrast to the rest; and a variety of Irishmen, Englishmen, and Canadians.
"No," I replied honestly, thinking back to that experience. "Fine!" was the unexpected rejoinder, "I'm going to send you put to the camp to cook for my lumber-jacks for a few weeks." "But I said I couldn't cook." "You know how to turn an egg in the pan? you know enough not to let ham and bacon burn?... you know water won't scorch, no matter how long it stands over the fire?...
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