He paused, and the camp-boss nodded his rough head. It was a story he
could clearly understand. Then there were those figures. Seventy million
dollars! They swept the last shadow of doubt from his mind.

"That's the position," Bull went on. "Now for the trouble as it is in
the forests right now. The thing that's had me travelling night an' day
for a month. There's an outfit going right through these forests. I
can't locate its extent. Only the way it works. There's two objects in
view. One is to fire our limits. The other reckons to paralyse our cut.
So far these folks have failed against the fire-guard organisation, and
I guess they'll likely miss most of their fire-bugs when they call the
roll. The other's different."

Bull knocked out his pipe on the stove and gazed thoughtfully at the
streak of brilliant light under the edge of the front damper.

"I've a notion there's an outfit of pedlars at work, as well as others,"
he went on presently.

The camp-boss nodded.

"Sure," he said.

Bull looked up.

"You think that way?" he asked. Then he nodded. "Yes, I guess we're
right. They're handing the boys dope to keep 'em guessing--worrying.
They're telling 'em we're on the edge of a big smash at Sachigo. That we
can't see the winter through. We're cleaned out for cash, and the mill
folk are shouting for their wages and starting in to riot. It's a swell
yarn. It's the sort of yarn I'd tell 'em myself if I was working for the
Skandinavia. It's the sort of dope these crazy forest-jacks are ready to
swallow the same as if it was Rye. Do you see? These fools are being
told they won't get their pay for their winter's cut. So, being what
they are, the boys are going slow. They're going slow, and drawing goods
at the store against each cord they cut. Well, do you see what's going
to happen if the game succeeds? With our forests ablaze, and our cut
fifty down, and the whole outfit on the buck, when spring comes,
Skandinavia reckons our British financiers, when they come along to look
our land over will turn the whole proposition of the flotation down, and
quit us cold. But that's not just all. No, sir. Elas Peterman isn't the
boy to leave it that way. He's handing out the story that when Sachigo
smashes the Skandinavia's going to jump right in and collect the
wreckage cheap. Then they'll start up the mill, and sign on all hands on
their own pay-roll, only stipulating that they won't pay one single cent
of what Sachigo owes