ne, the strongest man in that section of the
country. He had proved his daring by many a bold feat in the rapids and
the jams; and his prowess as a fighter had been displayed more than once
when a backwoods bully required a thrashing. But now he gave the
Aspohegan camp a genuine surprise. First, the blood left his face, his
eyes grew small and piercing, and his hands clenched spasmodically as he
took a couple of steps after Goodine's retreating figure. Then his face
flushed scarlet, and he turned to Laurette with a look of absolutely
piteous appeal.

"I _can't_ fight him," he tried to explain, huskily. "You don't
understand. I ain't _afeard_ of him, nor of any man. But I vowed to his
mother I'd be good to the lad, and--"

"Oh, I reckon I quite understand, Mr. Reddin," interrupted the girl, in
a hard, clear voice; and, seeing the furious scorn in her face, Reddin
silently turned away.

Laurette's scorn was sharpened by a sense of the bitterest
disappointment. She had allowed herself to give her heart to a coward,
whom she had fancied a hero. As she turned to her father, big tears
forced themselves into her eyes. But the episode had passed quickly; and
her distress was not observed, as all attention now turned to Goodine
and his perilous undertaking. Only McElvey, who had suspected the girl's
sentiments for some time, said in an undertone, "Jim Reddin ain't no
coward, and don't you forget it, sis. But it _is_ queer the way he'll
just take anything at all from Bill Goodine. It's somethin' we don't
none of us understand."

"I reckon he does well to be scared of him," said Laurette, with her
head very high in the air.

By this time Goodine had formed his plans, and had got to work. At first
he called in the assistance of two other axemen, to cut certain of the
piles which had no great strain upon them. This done, the assistants
returned to safe quarters; and then Bill warily reviewed the situation.
"He knows what he's about," murmured McElvey, with approbation, as Bill
attacked another pile, cut it two-thirds through, and left it so. Then
he severed completely a huge timber far on the left front of the
landing. There remained but two piles to withstand the main push of the
logs. One of these was in the centre, the other a little to the
right,--on which side the chopper had to make his escape when the logs
began to go. This latter pile Goodine now cut half-way through. Feeling
himself the hero of the hour, he handled hi