for their cut. So, if they're such almighty fools
as to cut, it's going to be their dead loss and the Skandinavia's gain.
Do you get it? It's smart. I guess there's a bigger brain behind it than
Peterman's."

The camp-boss spat into the stove. It was his one expression of disgust.

Bull rose from his chair.

"Here, I need food. So does my boy out there with the dogs. We'll take
it after I'm through with the men. It's snowing like hell, but I pull
out two hours from now. You see, I'm on a hot trail, an' don't fancy
losing a minute."

"You're goin' to talk to 'em--the boys?" Porson's eyes lit with a gleam
of satisfaction. "Can you--twist 'em?"

Bull thrust a hand into his breast pocket and drew out a sealed packet.
He held it up before the other's questioning eyes.

"I haven't failed yet," he said quietly. "In nine of our camps back on
the river the work's running full already. I've a whole big yarn for our
boys. But right here I've got what's better. It's the only thing that'll
clinch the yarn I'm going to hand 'em. This," he went on, indicating the
parcel in his hand, "is the bunch of dollars representing the price of
this camp's full winter cut, and the price of a bonus for making up all
leeway already lost. I'm going to have the boys count it. Then I'm going
to have them hand it right over to Abe Risdon to set in his safe, with a
written order from me to pay out in full the moment the winter cut is
complete. Is it good? Can the Skandinavia's junk stand in face of it?
No, sir. And so I've proved right along. I don't hold much of a brief
for the intelligence of the forest-jack, but his belly rules him all the
time. You see, he's human, and no more dishonest than the rest of us.
Have him guessing and worried and you'll get trouble right along. Show
him the lies the Skandinavia's been doping him with, and he'll work out
of sheer spite to beat their game. You get right out and collect the
gang."

* * * * *

The snowfall had ceased. And with its passing the temperature had fallen
to something far below its average winter level. The clouds had vanished
miraculously, and in their place was a night sky ablaze with the light
of myriad stars, and the soft splendour of a brilliant moon.

It was a scene of frigid desolation. Away on the southern horizon lay
the black line which marked the tremendous forest limits of the Beaver
River. For the rest it was a world of snow that hid up the rugg