t of the notes which were now soon to come
due.

At this time the woods work increasingly demanded his attention.
He disappeared for a week, his organising abilities claimed for the
distribution of the road crews. When he returned to the office, Newmark,
with an air of small triumph, showed him contracts for the construction
of three new vessels.

"I get them for $55,000," said he, "with $30,000 of it on long time."

"Without consulting me!" cried Orde.

Newmark explained carefully that the action, seemingly so abrupt, had
really been taking advantage of a lucky opportunity.

"Otherwise," he finished, "we shouldn't have been able to get the
job done for another year, at least. If that big Cronin contract goes
through--well, you know what that would mean in the shipyards--nobody
would get even a look-in. And McLeod is willing, in the meantime, to
give us a price to keep his men busy. So you see I had to close at once.
You can see what a short chance it was."

"It's a good chance, all right," admitted Orde; "but--why--that is,
I thought perhaps we'd job our own freighting for awhile--it never
occurred to me we'd build any more vessels until we'd recovered a
little."

"Recovered," Newmark repeated coldly. "I don't see what 'recovered' has
to do with it. If the mill burned down, we'd rebuild, wouldn't we? Even
if we were embarrassed--which we're not--we'd hardly care to acknowledge
publicly that we couldn't keep up our equipment. And as we're making
twelve or fifteen thousand a year out of our freighting, it seems to me
too good a business to let slip into other hands."

"I suppose so," agreed Orde, a trifle helplessly.

"Therefore I had to act without you," Newmark finished. "I knew you'd
agree. That's right: isn't it?" he insisted.

"Yes, that's right," agreed Orde drearily.

"You'll find copies of the contract on your desk," Newmark closed the
matter. "And there's the tax lists. I wish you'd run them over."

"Joe," replied Orde, "I--I don't think I'll stay down town this morning.
I--"

Newmark glanced up keenly.

"You don't look a bit well," said he; "kind of pale around the gills.
Bilious. Don't believe that camp grub quite agrees with you for a steady
diet."

"Yes, that must be it," assented Orde.

He closed his desk and went out. Newmark turned back to his papers. His
face was expressionless. From an inner pocket he produced a cigar which
he thrust between his teeth. The corners of his mouth slowl