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Updated: June 19, 2025
For a fleeting second Moncrossen glared into his eyes, and without a word, turned and led the way, closely followed by Bill and Jeanne, while the crowd of wondering lumber-jacks brought up the rear. At the storehouse Moncrossen paused. "I'll fetch the key from the office," he leered; but Bill turned to a man who stood leaning upon his axe.
An' now he's gone an' poshted a foive per cint bonus av they bate Moncrossen's cut, an' uts loike handin' ut to 'em, 'cause he knows th' b'ys is already doin' their dommedest, beggin' ye're pardon, miss. "Oi'll bet me winther's wages, come shpr-ring, we'll have Moncrossen shnowed undher dayper thin' yon smithy, an' they had to tunnel to foind ut."
And out into the night, as he ran in the first direction he faced, the upper most thought in his mind was a blind rage against Moncrossen. The boss himself was afraid of this man, yet he had sent him, Creed, to make away with him alone in the night! The quavering breath left his throat in long moans as he ran on and on and on.
Hours later, when the men stamped in noisily to the wash-bench, he was sitting there in the dark thinking. The results of Daddy Dunnigan's cooking were soon evident in the Blood River camp. Men no longer returned to the bunk-house growling and cursing the grub, and Moncrossen noted with satisfaction that the daily cut was steadily climbing toward the eighty-thousand mark.
"He's roight agin, an' Oi'll be tellin' ye now Oi damn good an' don't feel loike wor-rkin' f'r Moncrossen, th' dirthy pirate, takin' a man's pay wid wan hand an' shtealin' his timber wid th' other. He'd cut th' throat av his own mither f'r th' price av a dhrink. "An' did he sind ye down afoot an' expict me to shtroll back wi' ye, th' both av us on crutches?"
Eager as he was to meet Moncrossen, Bill decided not to risk crossing the river in the fast gathering darkness. Gradually the boat was worked toward shore and poled into the backwater of submerged beaver meadow. Landing upon a slope a couple of hundred yards back from the river, they tilted the boat on edge, and, inclining it forward, rested it upon the tops of stakes thrust into the ground.
At the sound the girl looked up, and the blood froze in her veins at the sight of the glittering eyes and sneering lips of Moncrossen. He spoke again: "You thought I was done with you, did you? Thought I'd forgot you, an' the fight the old she-tiger put up that night on Broken Knee? But that was in the dark, or there'd been a different story to tell."
And, with three blows of his fist, lay the mighty Stromberg upon the floor like a wet rag? Did he not come without hurt through the fire when Creed locked him in the burning shack? And did he not go down through the terrible Blood River rapids, riding upon a log, and live, when Moncrossen ordered the breaking out of the jam that he might be killed among the pounding logs?
There was no hesitation; nothing of doubt in the reply. "My crew's full," the boss growled. "I don't need no men, let alone a greener that don't know a peavey from a bark spud. Wha'd the old man send you up here for, anyhow?" "That, I presume, is his business." "Oh, it is, is it? Well, let me tell you first off I'm boss of this here camp!" Moncrossen paused and glared at the younger man.
"Put up this team an' pack the gear to the bunk-house." As the man drove away in the direction of the stable, Moncrossen regarded the others largely. "Come on in an' have a drink, boys," he invited, throwing wide the door. "How's the foot?" "Better," replied Bill. "It will be as good as ever in a week." "I'm glad of that, 'cause I sure am cramped fer hands.
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