I give in?"

Carrie smiled. "Yes, Jim. If you're going to be obstinate, there's no
other plan. Besides, you see, the trail's rough and I couldn't go very
fast."

"I'm beaten," said Jim. "You will do what you like. You're a good
sort, Carrie, and if you find the job too hard, you can stop."

"I may find it hard, but I don't know if I'll stop. Anyhow, your
control is gone. If you are not very nice, I'll spoil the hash, and
then you'll have trouble with the boys."

Jim got up, moved by her pluck and yet half annoyed, for he had meant
to make things easy for her. Before he went off she laughed and
remarked: "You'll find Jake will understand why you gave way.
Sometimes he bluffs mother; he never bluffs me."

CHAPTER VI

ROLLING STONES

Sweet resinous smells drifted down the hill. The mists were melting
and Jim lighted his pipe and thoughtfully looked about. The sun had
just risen above the distant snow and a streak of blue smoke, drawn
across the woods, marked the camp. Breakfast would not be ready for
half an hour, but he knew Carrie had been occupied for some time,
although he had stolen out of camp without talking to her.

Jim did not like her working as she had worked for the last week or
two, and if he had stopped they might have begun an argument. He would
have gained nothing by this, for Carrie was obstinate and he admitted
that he was now and then impatient. Carrie was plucky and they needed
help, but cooking for the hired men was not the kind of thing she ought
to do. Then he had been disturbed in the night by a rattle of stones,
and now saw he must grapple with a difficulty that was worse than he
had thought.

The hillside ran up steeply to a wall of crags, split by frost and
thaw. Tall firs clung to the slope where they could find a hold, but
there were gaps, in which broken trunks lay among the rubbish a
snow-slide had brought down. Then, for some distance, large, sharp
stones rested insecurely on the slope, and Jim imagined that a small
disturbance would set them in motion. Below the spot where he sat, the
stones ran down into a gulf obscured by rolling mist. The turmoil of a
river rose from the gloomy depths.

A row of telegraph posts crossed the stony belt, but one or two had
fallen in the night and Jim carefully studied the ground. His business
was to put up the posts and clear a track in order to protect them from
damage and enable pack-horses to travel along the line.