him, I could not help feeling my own insignificance in
comparison, although, far down inside of me, there was a hungry kind of
longing to match my agility and science against his tremendous brute
strength, a wondering what the outcome would be. It was, however,
merely a feeling of friendly antagonism.

But this was the fancy of a passing moment, for I was waiting for the
big fellow to speak.

He did speak, and rather spoiled the impression.

"What'n the hell kind of a dump is this anyway?" he exploded.

I was hit as with a brickbat, but I tried not to show it.

"This is the Golden Crescent Trading Company," I answered quietly and,
if anything, with an assumption of meekness which I was far from
feeling;--just to see how much rope this big fellow would take to hang
himself with.

I suppose my tone made him think that his verbal onslaught had been as
effective as it had been short.

He turned his eyes on me for the first time. They fixed on mine, and
never once flickered.

"You--don't--say!" he returned, in measured words.

Then he flared up again.

"Say!--who's the boss here?"

"I am," I retorted, getting warm.

He came over to the middle of the floor.

"And where'n the hell do I come in?" he asked.

"Don't know, I'm sure, mister; and I don't care very much either. But
I have an idea that you or I will go out, quick, if you don't cool
down."

"Here!--you cut that stuff out." He came up to the counter, clenching
his huge hands. "I'm Joe Clark,--see."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark. I'm George Bremner."

"Who'n the hell's George Bremner?" he burst out.

"That's just what I was wondering in regard to Joe Clark," I retorted,
returning glare for glare. "But look you here,--whoever you may be,
you may get off with this sort of language elsewhere, but it doesn't
have any effect on the man who is running the Golden Crescent Trading
Company."

He tried hard to hold himself together.

"Guess you're one of them new-broom-sweep-clean smart Alicks," he said.

"About as smart as you are civil, Mr. Clark."

"Well, Mister Man, supposin' you and me gets down to brass tacks, right
now. I'm the Superintendent of No. 2 Camp, with a say in the
management of Camps No. 1 and No. 3. I own three tugs operatin' on the
coast here."

He thumped his fist on the counter,--"and anything I have a hand in, my
word goes,--understand."

"You are a lucky man," I answered. "But your word won't go here unless
it c