overpowering for him,
and he needed respite from their pressure. But he came again. He was
bound to. It was his nature to drive to the end at whatever cost to
himself.

"I'm handing you this stuff, Les, because I got to," he went on. "It
ain't because I'm liking it. No, sir. And if you've the horse sense I
reckon you have, you'll locate my object easy. Those words of Nisson's
have told us plain we got to fight. We got to fight like hell. And the
time's right now. Oh, yes, we're going to fight. You an' me, just the
same as we've fought a heap of times before. There ain't a feller I know
who's got more fight in him than you--when you feel that way.
But--well, say, you just need a boost to make you feel like it. You
ain't like me who wants to fight most all the time. No. Well--I'm going
to hand you that boost."

"How?"

Standing's unruffled interrogation was in sharp contrast with the
other's earnestness. There was a calm tolerance in it. The tolerance of
a temperament given to philosophy rather than passion. Perhaps it was a
mask. Perhaps it was real. Whatever it was, Bat's next words sent the
hot fire of a man's soul leaping into his eyes.

"When your boy's born, what then?"

"Ah!"

Bat's fists clenched at the sound of the other's ejaculation. It was the
nervous clenching at a sound that threatened danger. Swift as a shot he
followed up his challenge.

"Your pore gal's down there in Quebec hopin' and prayin' to hand you
that boy child you reckon Providence is going to send you. Well, when he
gets along, and Hellbeam's around--and--"

Bat broke off. Standing had risen from his chair. He had moved swiftly,
his lean figure propelled towards the window by long, nervous strides.
His voice came back to the man at the table, while his eyes gazed down
upon the waters of Farewell Cove, over the widespread roofs of the great
groundwood mill, the building of which was the result of his seven
years' sojourn on the Labrador coast.

"You've handed it me, Bat," he said, in a quick, nervous way. "I'll
fight. I know. You guess I'm scared at Nisson's news. Maybe I am, I
don't know. I'm not a man of iron guts. Maybe I never shall be. It's
hell to me to feel a shadow dogging my every step. Yes, you're right.
It's been a nightmare, and now--why, now it's real. But get your mind at
rest. I'm going to fight Hellbeam all I know. And with the thought of
Nancy, and the boy she's going to give me, I don't need a thing else.
No."

"