ew up like
smoke, and then there was a thunderous crash and stillness again.
Nasmyth gasped heavily, and dropped his handspike.

"Boys," he said, "I'm used up. I'll go along to the shanty and get my
time."

He generally expressed himself much as his comrades did, but now his
clean English intonation was a little more noticeable than usual. One
of the others nodded sympathetically, as he answered:

"Well, I guess I've seen the trouble trailing you for quite a while.
Got to let up or play out. It's one I've been up against myself." He
made a vague gesture. "A little rough on you."

Then he and one of his comrades took up a big crosscut saw, while the
other swung a gleaming axe. Nasmyth walked back wearily through the
silent Bush towards the camp. His back ached, his head ached, and he
felt a trifle dazed. The strength seemed to have gone out of him, and
he fancied that he was not very far from a physical collapse. He was
glad when he reached the shanty, where, after he had shaken the snow
from his dilapidated boots, he sat down by the glowing stove, and
smiled wryly as he looked about him. The shed was rudely built of
logs, and a row of bunks packed with swamp-grass and spruce-twigs,
from some of which there hung portions of greasy blankets, ran down
one side of it. It smelt horribly of acrid tobacco and cookery, but at
least, it was warm, which counted for much, and, during the last few
months, Nasmyth had grown to look on it as home. He knew, also, that
it would cost him something to leave it now, especially as he had
nowhere else to go.

Lying back listlessly in a lounge an ingenious chopper had made out
of a few branches and a couple of sacks, Nasmyth vaguely recalled the
comfort of his London chambers and the great pillared smoking-room of
a certain exclusive club, for he was a man acquainted with the
smoother side of life. He had various gifts which were apparently of
no account in British Columbia, and he had enjoyed an education that
had, it seemed, unfitted him for anything strictly utilitarian. There
are a great many men of his description chopping trees and driving
cattle in Western Canada. Indeed, his story was one which, with slight
variations, may be heard frequently in that country. Financial
disaster had overtaken his family. Friends in high places had regarded
him coldly, and he had been too proud to ask for favours, or to profit
by those that were grudgingly offered him. That was why he had gone
o