dn't pay?"

"Who runs it?"

"A man that broke his leg on the river. One of Belloc's men. He knows
all about farming. He brought his wife and three children up, and there
he is--making money, and making the land good. I've made him a partner
at last. When it's good enough by and by, I'll probably go and live
there myself. Anybody ought to make farming a success, if there's water
and proper wood and such things," he added.

There was silence for a few moments. Then John Grier looked Tarboe up
and down sharply again, noting the splendid physique, the quizzical,
mirth-provoking eye, and said: "I can give you a better job if you'll
come to Montreal."

Tarboe shook his head. "Haven't had a sick day for eight years; I'm as
hard as nails; I'm as strong as steel. I love this wild world of the
woods and fields and--"

"And the shebangs and grog-shops and the dirty, drunken villages?"
interrupted the old man.

"No, they don't count. I take them in, but they don't count."

"Didn't you have hard times when you first came?" asked John Grier. "Did
you get right with the men from the start?"

"A little bit of care is a good thing in any life. I told them good
stories, and they liked that. I used to make the stories up, and they
liked that also. When I added some swear words they liked them all the
better. I learned how to do it."

"Yes, I've heard of you, but not as Tarboe."

"You heard of me as Renton, eh?"

"Yes, as Renton. I wonder I never came across you till to-day."

"I kept out of your way; that was the reason. When you came north, I got
farther into the backwoods."

"Are you absolutely straight, Tarboe?" asked John Grier eagerly. "Do you
do these things in the Garden of Eden way, or can you run a bit crooked
when it's worth while?"

"If I'd ever seen it worth while, I'd say so. I could run a bit crooked
if I was fighting among the big ones, or if we were at war with--Belloc,
eh!" A cloud came into the eyes of Tarboe. "If I was fighting Belloc,
and he used a weapon to flay me from behind, I'd never turn my back on
him!"

A grim smile came into Tarboe's face. His jaw set almost viciously, his
eyes hardened. "You people don't play your game very well, Mr. Grier.
I've seen a lot that wants changing."

"Why don't you change it, then?"

Tarboe laughed. "If I was boss like you, I'd change it, but I'm not, and
I stick to my own job."

The old man came close to him, and steadily explored his face and eyes.
"I've