als don't meet except at the--peace table. Those are
Bolivars. Try one?"

Bull helped himself with a laugh that was about as real as the other's.

"The pipe of--peace, eh?" he said.

"That's how I hope," Peterman replied.

Bull nodded as he lit his cigar.

"Most of us hope for peace, and do our best to aggravate war. That so?"

"It's damn fool human nature."

Peterman sat back in his chair, and laughed a little boisterously. Then
he turned to the window while Bull silently consulted the white ash of
his cigar.

"You're projecting a big thing in pulp," the Swede said a moment later.
"You figger to split the Canadian pulp trade into two opposing camps.
The Skandinavia and the Labrador enterprises. It means one great, big
prolonged battle in which one or the other is to be beaten. Guess it's
liable to be a battle in which the public'll get temporary benefit,
while we--who fight it--look like losing all along the line. It seems a
pity, eh?"

"War's a tough proposition, anyway," Bull replied slowly. "Its only
excuse is it's Nature's way of wiping out the fool mistakes and crimes
human nature spends most of its time committing. If two sets of
criminals set out to grab, it's odds they'll do hurt to each other, and
end by leaving the world easier when they're completely despoiled."

Peterman laughed.

"Sure," he said. "And these fool criminals? Is there need for them to
fall out?"

"None."

"That's how we of the Skandinavia feel. That's the notion always in my
mind. Say--"

"Yep?"

Bull's eyes were squarely gazing. Their clear depths looked straight
into the dark eyes of the man at the desk. Their regard was intense. It
was almost disconcerting.

"What's the proposition?" he went on. And his firm lips closed over the
last word and contrived to transform the simple question into a definite
challenge.

Peterman stirred uneasily. At that moment he beheld more clearly than
ever the picture of this man with his great arms about the body of the
woman he coveted, and feeling lent sharpness to his tone.

"What's the price you set on your enterprise up at Labrador?" he said.

Bull removed his cigar. He emitted a pensive stream of smoke. His eyes
were again pre-occupied with the white ash, so firm and clean on its
tip. Then quite suddenly he looked up.

"If you'll tell me the price you set on the whole of the Skandinavia,
I'll talk."

"What d'you mean?"

The Swede had less command of his feelings than the o