ep that place
running, and let them talk. It's best that way. But I've got tab of most
of the speakers, and I've located where they come from. Most of them
have sometime worked for the Skandinavia. Maybe that's the reason of
their talk. Maybe even Skandinavia's glad they're talking that way here
on Labrador. I don't know. But--well, I'll have to quit you here.
They're setting up the two big new machines, and it don't do leaving
them long. So long. Anything else you need to know about that recreation
room, why, I guess I can hand it to you."

* * * * *

Bull Sternford laid the telegram aside while a shadowy smile hovered
about his firm lips. Then he settled himself back in his chair, and gave
himself up to the thoughtful contemplation of the brilliant sunlight,
and the perfect, steely azure of the sky beyond the window opposite him.

The change in the man was almost magical. The hot-headed, determined,
fighting lumber-jack whom Father Adam had rescued from furious homicide
had hidden himself under something deeper than the veneer which the
modest suit of conventional life provides. It was the subtle change that
comes from within which had transformed him. It was in his eyes. In the
set of his jaws. It was in the man's whole poise. His resources of
spiritual power; his mental force; his virility of personality. All
these things were concentrated. They were no longer sprawling, groping,
seeking the great purpose of his life as they had been in the lumber
camp of the Skandinavia.

A feeling akin to triumph filled the man's heart as he gazed out upon
the pleasant light of Labrador's late summer day. In something like
twelve months he had thrust leagues along the road he meant to travel.
And his progress had been of a whirlwind nature. It had been work,
desperate, strenuous work. It had been the double labour of intensive
study combined with the necessary progress in the schemes laid down for
the future of Sachigo. It had only been possible to a man of his amazing
faculties, combined with the fact that Bat Harker and the mournful Skert
Lawton had left him free from the clogging detail of the mill
organisation and routine.

In twelve months he had crystallised the dreams and projects of his
predecessor in the chair he was now occupying. In twelve months he had
built up the shell of the great combination of groundwood and paper
mills which was to have such far-reaching effect upon the paper t