about twenty thousand acres here--mostly scrub
oak--pine and spruce. I've sold off a lot to the Government. A mess of
it has been cut--there's been a lot of waste--and the fire season is
coming around. That's the big job--the all-the-year job. You've had
experience?"

"Yes--in Russia. I'm a trained woodsman."

"You're a good all-round man?"

"Exactly what----?" began Peter.

"You know how to look after yourself--to look after other men, to take
charge of a considerable number of people in my employ?"

"Yes. I'm used to dealing with men."

"It's a big job, Mr. Nichols--a ticklish kind of a job for a
furriner--one with some--er--unusual features--that may call for--er--a
lot of tact. And--er--courage."

It seemed to Peter that Jonathan K. McGuire was talking almost at
random, that the general topic of forestry was less near his heart
to-night than the one that was uppermost in Peter's mind, the mystery
that surrounded his employer and the agencies invoked to protect him. It
seemed as if he were loath to speak of them, as if he were holding Peter
off at arm's length, so to say, until he had fully made up his mind that
this and no other man was the one he wanted, for all the while he was
examining the visitor with burning, beady, gray eyes, as though trying
to peer into his mind.

"I'm not afraid of a forester's job, no matter how big it is, if I have
men enough," said Peter, still curious.

"And you're a pretty good man in a pinch, I mean----" he put in jerkily,
"you're not easy scared--don't lose your nerve."

"I'll take my chances on that," replied Peter calmly. "I'm used to
commanding men, in emergencies--if that's what you mean."

"Yes. That's what I mean. Er--you're an Englishman, Mr. Sheldon says."

"Er--yes," said Peter, "an Englishman," for this was the truth now more
than ever before, and then repeated the story he had told in New York
about his work in Russia. While Peter was talking, McGuire was pacing up
and down the room with short nervous strides, nodding his head in
understanding from time to time. When Peter paused he returned to his
chair.

"You British are a pretty steady lot," said McGuire at last. "I think
you'll do. I like the way you talk and I like your looks. Younger than
I'd hoped maybe, but then you're strong--Mr. Sheldon says you're strong,
Mr. Nichols."

"Oh, yes," said Peter, his curiosity now getting the better of him. "But
it might be as well, Mr. McGuire, if you let me kno