THERS work. You want to go over and see his gang throw dirt."

"That's where I'm going," said Philip. "Is Thorpe at home?"

"Just leaving. There he is now!"

At MacDougall's whistle Thorpe turned and waited for Philip.

"Goin' over?" he asked, pleasantly, when Philip came up.

"Yes. I want to see how your men work without a leader," replied
Philip. He paused for a moment to light his pipe, and pointed to a
group of men down on the lake shore. "See that gang?" he asked.
"They're building a scow. Take away their foreman and they wouldn't be
worth their grub. They're men we brought up from Winnipeg."

Thorpe was rolling a cigarette. Under his arm he held a pair of light
gloves.

"Mine are different," he laughed, quietly.

"I know that," rejoined Philip, watching the skill of his long white
fingers. "That's why I want to see them in action, when you're away."

"My policy is to know to a cubic foot what a certain number of men are
capable of doing in a certain time," explained Thorpe, as they walked
toward the plain. "My next move is to secure the men who will achieve
the result, whether I am present or not. That done, my work is done.
Simple, isn't it?"

There was something likable about Thorpe. Even in his present mood
Philip could not but concede that. He was surprised in Thorpe, in more
ways than one. His voice was low, and filled with a certain
companionable quality that gave one confidence in him immediately. He
was apparently a man of education and of some little culture, in spite
of his vocation, which usually possesses a vocabulary of its own as
hard as rock. But Philip's greatest surprise came when he regarded
Thorpe's personal appearance. He judged that he was past forty, perhaps
forty-five, and the thought made him shudder inwardly. He was
twice--almost three times--as old as Jeanne. And yet there was about
him something irresistibly attractive, a fascination which had its
influence upon Philip himself. His nails dug into tie flesh of his
hands when he thought of this man--and Jeanne.

Thorpe's gang was hard at work when they came to the end of the
rock-bed. Scarcely a man seemed to take notice when he appeared. There
was one exception, a wiry, red-faced little man who raised a hand to
his cap when he saw the foreman.

"That's the sub-foreman," explained Thorpe. "He answers to me." The
little man had given a signal, and Thorpe added, "Excuse me for a
moment. He's got something on his mind."

He dr