he accidents or any of the dissensions directly to his door. Without
evidence against him Peter did not think it wise to send him out of
camp, for many of the men were friendly to Shad and his dismissal was
sure to mean an upheaval of sorts. Peter knew that Shad hated him for
what had happened at the Cabin but that in his heart he feared to come
out into the open where a repetition of his undoing in public might
destroy his influence forever. So to Peter's face he was sullenly
obedient, taking care to give the appearance of carrying out his orders,
while as soon as Peter's back was turned he laughed, loafed and
encouraged others to do the same.

And for the last week Peter had not liked the looks of things. At the
lumber camp the work was almost at a standstill, and the sawmills were
silent. Jesse Brown had told him that Flynn and Jacobi had been at the
bunk-house and that the men had voted him down when the foreman had
tried to send them away. It was clear that some radical step would have
to be taken at once to restore discipline or Peter's authority and
usefulness as superintendent would be only a matter of hours.

It was of all of these things that Peter thought as he bumped his way in
the "flivver" over the corduroy road through the swampy land which led
to the lower reserve, and as he neared the scene of these material
difficulties all thought of Hawk Kennedy passed from his mind. There was
the other danger too that had been one of the many subjects of the
letter of Anastasie Galitzin, for Peter had no doubt now that the
foreigner with the dark mustache who had followed him down from New
York and who some weeks ago had been sent out of the camp was no other
than the agent of the Soviets, who had forwarded to London the
information as to his whereabouts. Peter had not seen this man since the
day of his dismissal, but he suspected that he was in the plot with
Flynn, Jacobi and perhaps Shad Wells to make mischief in the lumber
camp.

The opportunity that Peter sought to bring matters to a focus was not
long in coming, for when he reached the sawmills, which had resumed
desultory operations, he found Flynn and Jacobi, the "Reds," calmly
seated in the office, smoking and talking with Shad Wells. Peter had
left his "flivver" up the road and his sudden entrance was a surprise.
The men got up sullenly and would have slouched out of the door but
Peter closed it, put his back to it, and faced them. He was cold with
anger