was better schooled in those slow-syllabled discussions, barely nodded
his head.

"We'd still have that track north of here to lay," he advised, "when we
work in from the south with steel."

"Surely," Steve admitted. "Of course. But wouldn't that be a better
bet than to stand to see our embankment and bridge----"

He broke off there, just as Joe had hesitated a moment before. The
undercurrent of meaning for which the latter's ears were waiting came
to the surface, however, when Steve began again.

"Suppose, Joe," he pursued lazily, "suppose you had contracted with a
railroad--an infant road too young even to be named--to move for you
more timber than either of us will ever own; contracted in apparent
good faith, when all along in your heart you were certain that the
railroad itself would never be able to fulfill its half of the bargain?
Granting such a state of affairs, Joe, what do you suppose you would
do?"

Garry was not quite certain that evening which was uppermost--the
earnestness or quiet amusement which surely underlay that question. He
only knew that both existed. But Fat Joe understood. As he had done
many times before now he wrinkled his forehead and pondered.

"Maybe I'd hire me a red-headed river-dog," came his answer pat.
"Maybe I'd hire me a bully-boy boss of white water, to build me some
skidways to the nearest floodwater, so's I could teach the infant
railroad you mention that business was business, contract or no
contract."

"Of course you would!" Steve agreed instantly, and he might have been
complimenting a first primer favorite so pleased was his tone. "Of
course you would. I'm afraid that was too easy for you, wasn't it,
Joe? But now suppose you were bent on proving to everybody, and
particularly to those who had fathered it, what an unfortunate weakling
this immature, unnamed child of constructive silence really was. In
that event how do you figure you'd conduct yourself?"

Joe smiled oddly, a little balefully. It was magic-quick, that change
in his expression--as swift as was the thought behind it.

"I'd have my logs all cut and ready to haul as an excuse, wouldn't I?"
he inquired with simulated anxiety. "Could I tell folks, through the
newspapers for instance, that I wasn't strong for letting my timber lie
for the grubs to lunch on, if I had to square myself?"

"Quite naturally." Until then Steve's face had kept its preternatural
gravity. He grinned ever so faintly now