ned steadily at his interlocutor from under his bushy
brows.

"How much pine you got?" he asked finally.

"About three hundred millions," replied Thorpe quietly.

The old man's blue eyes fixed themselves with unwavering steadiness on
Thorpe's face.

"You're jobbing some of it, eh?" he submitted finally as the only
probable conclusion. "Do you think you know enough about it? Who does it
belong to?"

"It belongs to a man named Carpenter and myself."

The riverman pondered this slowly for an appreciable interval, and then
shot out another question.

"How'd you get it?"

Thorpe told him simply, omitting nothing except the name of the firm
up-river. When he had finished, Shearer evinced no astonishment nor
approval.

"You done well," he commented finally. Then after another interval:

"Have you found out who was the men stealin' the pine?"

"Yes," replied Thorpe quietly, "it was Morrison & Daly."

The old man flickered not an eyelid. He slowly filled his pipe and lit
it.

"I'll get you a crew of men," said he, "if you'll take me as foreman."

"But it's a little job at first," protested Thorpe. "I only want a camp
of twenty. It wouldn't be worth your while."

"That's my look-out. I'll take th' job," replied the logger grimly. "You
got three hundred million there, ain't you? And you're goin' to cut it?
It ain't such a small job."

Thorpe could hardly believe his good-fortune in having gained so
important a recruit. With a practical man as foreman, his mind would be
relieved of a great deal of worry over unfamiliar detail. He saw at once
that he would himself be able to perform all the duties of scaler,
keep in touch with the needs of the camp, and supervise the campaign.
Nevertheless he answered the older man's glance with one as keen, and
said:

"Look here, Shearer, if you take this job, we may as well understand
each other at the start. This is going to be my camp, and I'm going to
be boss. I don't know much about logging, and I shall want you to take
charge of all that, but I shall want to know just why you do each thing,
and if my judgment advises otherwise, my judgment goes. If I want to
discharge a man, he WALKS without any question. I know about what I
shall expect of each man; and I intend to get it out of him. And in
questions of policy mine is the say-so every trip. Now I know you're
a good man, one of the best there is, and I presume I shall find your
judgment the best, but I don't want any mi