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Updated: June 20, 2025
With the necessary money forthcoming, and no directors to concern himself with, literally a free hand, he could employ a power which, in these days of unrest and hatred between capital and labour, would be well-nigh overwhelming. The morality of it, the ultimate consequence of it mattered nothing. The smashing of Sachigo would mean the smashing of Bull Sternford.
From the first moment of the girl's story of her successful effort with this man, Sternford, this vaunting rival, Peterman had been bitterly stirred. The man's change of plans at her bidding he had understood on the instant. The man from Labrador had not changed his plans at the bidding of the Skandinavia. It was the girl who had induced him. It was she who had attracted him.
You guess it's a pretty tough thing to see a good-looker boy go down in a big commercial fight. That's because you're a woman. This sort of thing's part of business. It's harsher, more ruthless than even war on the battlefield with guns, and bombs, and stinking gas. We're going to fight this thing just that way. There's no mercy for Mr. Bull Sternford.
There's the rest." The super lumber-jack turned again to the window with that fascination that was almost pathetic. "And the rest?" Bull Sternford urged the other sharply, and Bat turned at once. "Canada's groundwood for the Canadian, inside the Empire," he shot at him. The other nodded. "The world's market for the country that can and should supply it," he replied.
Well, right after I located this feller, Sternford, coming into Sachigo, I got word of some stuff reported from one of your own camps way out north-west of Lake St. Anac. Guess it's about the farthest north in that direction, and it's cut off from any other camp by a hundred miles. On the face of it the stuff didn't seem to need more than a single thought.
"I do want to tell you. You see I think it's all-important." "Yes." The man's smile was unchanged. But there was a dryness in his monosyllable that only Nancy could have missed. "Mr. Sternford 'phoned me after his interview with you." "He had your 'phone number?" "Surely, I gave him that before he left me after driving up from the docks." "I see. Of course. You drove up together after landing.
The decks were thronged with a happy company of men and women determined not to lose one single moment of the bodily ease which the clemency of the weather vouchsafed to them. Bull Sternford was amongst them. Engulfed in a heavy fur overcoat, he stood lounging against the lee rail of the wide promenade deck, contemplating the oily swell of the waters.
Bull Sternford had conducted her thither personally, and, in doing so, had told her the thing he was doing, and of his real desire to save her unnecessary distress. "You see," he had explained, with a gentleness which Nancy felt she had no right to expect, "there's just about the best of everything right here.
Anyway I got it after a feller called Bull Sternford, a queer name by the way, had jumped in on the Sachigo proposition." The agent flung away his cigarette and helped himself afresh. "Well," he went on, smiling, "I guess it didn't take me thinking five seconds. I set the wires humming asking a description of this fighting kid. I got it. It was my man. The feller at Sachigo. Well?"
Then, just as suddenly all desire to laugh expired. Why? Why was she looking forward to dining with Bull Sternford? Bull! What a quaint name. She had thought of it before. She had thought of it at the time when the lonely missionary of the forest had told her of him. Swiftly her thought passed on to her meeting with the man himself.
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