son, the
foreman of the mill; over beyond howled Solly, the tug captain, Rollway
Charley, Shorty, the chore-boy; everywhere were features that he knew.
As his dimming eyes travelled here and there, one by one the Fighting
Forty, the best crew of men ever gathered in the northland, impressed
themselves on his consciousness. Saginaw birlers, Flat River drivers,
woodsmen from the forests of Lower Canada, bully boys out of the
Muskegon waters, peavey men from Au Sable, white-water dare-devils from
the rapids of the Menominee--all were there to do him honor, him in whom
they had learned to see the supreme qualities of their calling. On the
outskirts sauntered the tall form of Tim Shearer, a straw peeping
from beneath his flax-white mustache, his eyes glimmering under his
flax-white eyebrows. He did not evidence as much excitement as
the others, but the very bearing of the man expressed the deepest
satisfaction. Perhaps he remembered that zero morning so many years
before when he had watched the thinly-clad, shivering chore-boy set his
face for the first time towards the dark forest.

Big Junko and Anderson deposited their burden on the raised platform of
the office steps. Thorpe turned and fronted the crowd.

At once pandemonium broke loose, as though the previous performance had
been nothing but a low-voiced rehearsal.

The men looked upon their leader and gave voice to the enthusiasm that
was in them. He stood alone there, straight and tall, the muscles of his
brown face set to hide his emotion, his head thrust back proudly, the
lines of his strong figure tense with power,--the glorification in finer
matter of the hardy, reliant men who did him honor.

"Oh, aren't you PROUD of him?" gasped Hilda, squeezing Helen's arm with
a little sob.

In a moment Wallace Carpenter, his countenance glowing with pride and
pleasure, mounted the platform and stood beside his friend, while Morton
and the two young ladies stopped half way up the steps.

At once the racket ceased. Everyone stood at attention.

"Mr. Thorpe," Wallace began, "at the request of your friends here, I
have a most pleasant duty to fulfill. They have asked me to tell you
how glad they are to see you; that is surely unnecessary. They have also
asked me to congratulate you on having won the fight with our rivals."

"You done 'em good." "Can't down the Old Fellow," muttered joyous
voices.

"But," said Wallace, "I think that I first have a story to tell on my
ow