restless energy permeated every
molecule in the economic structure over which he presided, roused it
to intense vibration. Not for an instant was there a resting spell. The
veriest chore-boy talked, thought, dreamed of nothing but saw logs. Men
whispered vaguely of a record cut. Teamsters looked upon their success
or failure to keep near the top on the day's haul as a signal victory
or a disgraceful defeat. The difficulties of snow, accident, topography
which an ever-watchful nature threw down before the rolling car of this
industry, were swept aside like straws. Little time was wasted and no
opportunities. It did not matter how smoothly affairs happened to be
running for the moment, every advantage, even the smallest, was eagerly
seized to advance the work. A drop of five degrees during the frequent
warm spells brought out the sprinklers, even in dead of night; an
accident was white-hot in the forge almost before the crack of the
iron had ceased to echo. At night the men fell into their bunks like
sandbags, and their last conscious thought, if indeed they had any at
all, was of eagerness for the morrow in order that they might push the
grand total up another notch. It was madness; but it was the madness
these men loved.

For now to his old religion Thorpe had added a fanaticism, and over the
fanaticism was gradually creeping a film of doubt. To the conscientious
energy which a sense of duty supplied, was added the tremendous kinetic
force of a love turned into other channels. And in the wild nights while
the other men slept, Thorpe's half-crazed brain was revolving over and
over again the words of the sentence he had heard from Hilda's lips:
"There can be nothing better than love."

His actions, his mind, his very soul vehemently denied the proposition.
He clung as ever to his high Puritanic idea of man's purpose. But down
deep in a very tiny, sacred corner of his heart a very small voice
sometimes made itself heard when other, more militant voices were still:
"It may be; it may be!"

The influence of this voice was practically nothing. It made itself
heard occasionally. Perhaps even, for the time being, its weight
counted on the other side of the scale; for Thorpe took pains to deny
it fiercely, both directly and indirectly by increased exertions. But
it persisted; and once in a moon or so, when the conditions were quite
favorable, it attained for an instant a shred of belief.

Probably never since the Puritan day