Percival, if that young man was not literally and
actually a bandit, at least he had all the instincts of one. In any
case, he was a "bum." Whenever Mr. Landover was at a loss for a word to
express contumely for his fellow-man,--and he was seldom at a loss,--he
called him a "bum."

The women on board were divided into three classes in Landover's worldly
opinion: the kind you would marry (rare), the kind you wouldn't marry
(plentiful), and the kind you wouldn't have to marry (common). He put
Olga Obosky and Careni-Amori in this rather extensive third class, and
even went so far as to set what he considered a fair value upon them as
human commodities!

He worked with the gang of "log-toters," a term supplied by Percival.
They were the men who carried or dragged the trimmed tree-trunks from
the forest to the camp site, where they were subsequently hewn into
shape for structural purposes by the more skilful handlers of ax and
wedge and saw.

A certain man named Manuel Crust was the fore-man of this gang. He was
a swarthy, powerful "Portugee" who was on his way to Rio to kill the pal
who had run away with his wife. He was going up there to kill Sebastian
Cabral and live happily for ever afterward. His idea of future happiness
was to sit by the fireside in his declining years and pleasantly
ruminate over the variety of deaths he had inflicted upon the loathsome
Sebastian. In the first place, he was going to strangle him with his
huge, gnarled hands; then he was going to cut off his ears and nose and
stuff them into the vast slit he had made in his throat; then he would
dig his heart out with a machete; then, one by one, he would expertly
amputate his legs, arms and tongue; afterwards he would go through the
grisly process of disemboweling him; and, then, in the end, he would
build a nice, roaring fire and destroy what remained of Sebastian.
Inasmuch as either of these sanguinary and successive measures might
reasonably be expected to produce the desired result, it will be seen
that Sebastian was doomed to experience at least six horrific deaths
before the avenger got through with him. At any rate, if one could
believe Manuel,--and there seemed to be no end of conviction in the
way he expressed himself,--the luckless home-wrecker, if he lived long
enough, was absolutely certain to die.

Landover took a strange fancy to Manuel Crust. He was drawn to him in
the first place by the blasphemous things he said about Percival. I