scheme wasn't wholly to be abandoned. It was--say, here was the
crazy proposition he put up. You see I was his most intimate friend. He
said: 'The forests are wide. They're peopled with men of our craft.
There must be a hundred and more men capable of doing this thing. Of
putting it through. Well, the forests must provide the man, or the idea
must die.' He said: 'We must find a man!' He said: 'You--you whose
mission it is to roam the length and breadth of these forests--you may
find such a man. If you do--when you do--if it's years hence--send him
along here, and there's ten million dollars waiting for him, and all
this great mill, and these timber limits inexhaustible waiting for him
to go right ahead. It doesn't matter a thing who he is, or what he is,
or where he comes from, so long as he gets this idea--sticks to it
faithfully--and puts it through. I want nothing out of it for myself.
And the day he succeeds in the great idea all that would have been mine
shall be his.'"

As Father Adam finished, he looked into the earnest, wonder-filled eyes
of the other.

"Well?" he demanded.

Bull cleared his throat.

"The mill? Where is it?" He demanded.

"Sachigo. Farewell Cove."

"Sachigo! Why it's--"

"The greatest groundwood mill in the world."

There was a note of pride and triumph in the missionary's tone. But it
passed unheeded. Bull was struggling with recollection.

"This man? Wasn't it Leslie Standing who built it? Didn't it break him
or something? That's the story going round. There was something--"

Father Adam shook his head.

"There's ten million dollars says it didn't. Ten millions you can handle
yourself."

"Gee!"

Bull drew a sharp breath. Strong, forceful as he was the figure was
overwhelming.

"This--all this you're saying--offering? It's all real, true?" Bull
demanded at last.

"All of it."

"You want me to go and take possession of Sachigo, and ten--Say, where's
the catch?"

"There's no 'catch'--anywhere."

The denial was cold. It was almost in the tone of affronted dignity. The
missionary had thrust his hand in a pocket. Now he produced a large,
sealed envelope. Bull's eyes watched the movement, but bewilderment was
still apparent in them. Suddenly he raised a bandaged hand, and smoothed
back his hair.

Father Adam held out the sealed letter. It was addressed to "Bat
Harker," at Sachigo Mill.

"Here," he said quietly. "You're the man with iron guts Leslie Standing
wants for his