begun it, and we're taking up the challenge.
We've fired the first shot, too. It's not gun-play yet. No. Maybe it'll
come to that and you'll find we can hand you shot for shot. No. We're
quicker than that. The mill's closed down! Wages have ceased! And all
power has been cut off! There's not a spark of light or heat, for the
whole of Sachigo. The vital parts of the power station have been
removed, and you can't get 'em back. I've only to give the word and the
_penstocks on the river will be cut so you can't repair them_. It's
forty degrees below Zero out there, where I've shot that crazy Bolshie,
and so you know just how you stand here on Labrador with no means of
gettin' away until the thaw comes. You and your wives and kiddies'll
have to pay in the cold for the crime of theft you reckon to put
through. We're ready for you, whether it's gun-play or any other sort of
war you want to start. That's the thing I've come here to tell you."

He paused for a moment to watch the effect of his words. It was there on
the instant. A furious hubbub arose. There was not a man in the room who
did not understand the dire threat which the _coup_ of the master mind
imposed. Power cut off! Light! Heat! Power! Forty degrees below Zero!
The terror of the Labrador winter was in every man's mind. Life would be
unendurable without heat. There were the forests. Oh, yes. They could
get heat of sorts. The sort of heat which the men on a winter trail were
accustomed to. _Their electrically-heated houses were without stoves in
which they could burn wood_.

Bull listened to the babel of tongues while his men watched for any act
that might come. Every man on the platform was armed ready.

"Here!"

Bull's voice rang out again, but he was interrupted.

A man shouted at him from the back of the hall.

"Who the hell are you, anyway? You ain't the guy owning these mills. We
know where you come from--"

Like lightning Bull took him up.

"Do you?" he shouted back. "Then we know where you come from. The man
who knew me before I became boss here must belong to the Skandinavia.
That's the only place any lumber-jack could have known me. Here. Come up
here. Stand out. Show yourself. And I'll hand the boys your pedigree.
It'll be easy. It's the trouble with us just now, we've got too many
stiffs from the Skandinavia, and you've got our own good boys paralysed.
They haven't the guts to stand on the notions that have handed them the
best wages in the pul