stroke marred a saw-log; and besides, what was more to his taste, he
found himself near the actual scene of operation, at the front, as
it were. He had under his very eyes the process as far as it had been
carried.

In his experience here he made use of the same searching analytical
observation that had so quickly taught him the secret of the ax-swing.
He knew that each of the things he saw, no matter how trivial, was
either premeditated or the product of chance. If premeditated, he tried
to find out its reason for being. If fortuitous, he wished to know
the fact, and always attempted to figure out the possibility of its
elimination.

So he learned why and when the sawyers threw a tree up or down hill;
how much small standing timber they tried to fell it through; what
consideration held for the cutting of different lengths of log; how the
timber was skilfully decked on the skids in such a manner that the pile
should not bulge and fall, and so that the scaler could easily determine
the opposite ends of the same log;--in short, a thousand and one little
details which ordinarily a man learns only as the exigencies arise to
call in experience. Here, too, he first realized he was in the firing
line.

Thorpe had assigned him as bunk mate the young fellow who assisted
Tom Broadhead in the felling. Henry Paul was a fresh-complexioned,
clear-eyed, quick-mannered young fellow with an air of steady
responsibility about him. He came from the southern part of the State,
where, during the summer, he worked on a little homestead farm of his
own. After a few days he told Thorpe that he was married, and after a
few days more he showed his bunk mate the photograph of a sweet-faced
young woman who looked trustingly out of the picture.

"She's waitin' down there for me, and it ain't so very long till
spring," said Paul wistfully. "She's the best little woman a man ever
had, and there ain't nothin' too good for her, chummy!"

Thorpe, soul-sick after his recent experiences with the charity of the
world, discovered a real pleasure in this fresh, clear passion. As he
contemplated the abounding health, the upright carriage, the sparkling,
bubbling spirits of the young woodsman, he could easily imagine the
young girl and the young happiness, too big for a little backwoods farm.

Three days after the newcomer had started in at the swamping, Paul,
during their early morning walk from camp to the scene of their
operations, confided in him fu