made to instill into the new men the spirit of the Overland outfit,
which the old men long since had absorbed.

The great day arrived. The old and faithful jacks were to sit down with
the Overlanders to the spread that was in preparation all that day, Joe
Shafto, after much grumbling, laying aside her feud against all
lumberjacks and helping the regular cook in his work of preparing the
dinner. This was supervised by Grace and Elfreda, while their companions
attended to laying the tables and decorating the bunk-house with greens
brought in by the jacks.

At seven o'clock that evening, the jacks, who had been put out of the
new bunk-house without ceremony, were told to enter. They thumped in,
and gazed in amazement at the transformation of their home, at the
festoons of pine cones and greens, at the gaily colored lanterns, at the
red, white, and blue candles on the table, and at the big American flag
suspended from the rafters at the lower end of the room.

The girls disposed themselves about the table so that they might sit
with their guests. Hippy took the head of the table, with Spike, who was
known by no other name, at his right. Grace had never been able to
banish the disagreeable impression that she felt on first setting eyes
on the big red-haired lumberjack, and that feeling now seemed to take
hold of her more strongly than ever as Spike, shoulders slouched forward
and eyes lowered, shuffled to the seat assigned to him.

"Sit down!" ordered Hippy, and all hands sat, Tom taking the seat at the
lower end of the table.

There was real turkey, with cranberry sauce, squash, creamed onions,
mashed potatoes, celery and a variety of other vegetables, brought from
the city by Tom. Willy Horse acted as waiter, Mrs. Shafto declining to
unbend to the extent of waiting on "them varmints."

"I'll fodder white folk, and I'll sling a bone to a bear or a bull pup,
but no timber houn' of a lumberjack's goin' to git 'chuck' from the
paws of Joe Shafto, and that's the end of the argefyin'," she declared,
challenging the girls with a threatening glare through her big
horn-rimmed spectacles.

There were only a few jacks present, outside of the "original" crowd, as
Tom called them, all the others having a dinner of their own in the old
bunk-house.

The "talk" at the table was mostly confined to the Overland Riders,
their efforts to make conversation with their partners, the
lumberjacks, eliciting little more than grunts. The ja