e was rattled and didn't figger the things he said. He was astin'
fer word up from the mills. I didn't worry to think, and just said I
hadn't got. I ast 'why'? The boy took a quick look round, kind o'
scared. He said, 'jest nothin'.' He reckoned he'd a dame somewhere
around Sachigo. She'd wrote him things wer' kind of bad with the mills.
They were beat fer dollars, and looked like a crash. He'd heard the same
right there, an' it had him rattled. He thought of quittin' and goin'
over to the Skandinavia. Maybe it's the sort o' talk that's got 'em all
rattled. Maybe they're goin' slow on the cut, worryin' for their
pay-roll. You can't tell. They don't say a thing. Seems to me we want
Sternford right here to queer these yarns. Father Adam's around an'
talked some. But--"

Porson drank down his liquor, and his glass hit the counter with angry
force.

"They're mush-faced hoodlams anyway," he cried fiercely. "Ther' ain't a
thing wrong with the mills. I'd bet a million on it."

He stood up from the counter and thrust his hands deep in the pockets of
his coat. He was a powerful figure with legs like the tree trunks it was
his work to see cut. Quite abruptly he moved away, and Abe's questioning
eyes followed him.

He strode down amongst the scattered tables and came to a halt before
the tweed-coated stranger. All the men looked up, and their talk died
out.

"Say, what's your bizness around here?"

Ole Person's manner was threatening as he made his demand. The stranger
dived at the bag lying on the floor beside his chair. He picked it up
and flung it open.

"Why, I got right here the dandiest outfit of swell jewellery," he
cried, grinning amiably up at the man's threatening eyes. "There's just
everything here," he went on, with irrepressible volubility, "to suit
you gents of the forest, an' make you the envy of every jack way down
at Sachigo. Here, there's a be-autiful Prince Albert for your watch.
This ring. It's full o' diamonds calculated to set Kimberly hollerin'.
Maybe you fancy a locket with it. It'll take a whole bunch of your
dame's--"

"You'll light right out of this camp with daylight to-morrow!"

The tone of the camp-boss banished the last shadow of the pedlar's
cast-iron smile.

"Oh, yes?" he said, his eyes hardening.

"That's wot I said. This camp's private property an' you'll light out.
You get that? Daylight. If you don't, we've a way of dealing with Jew
drummers that'll likely worry you. Get it. An'