ar north at the head of the drive in the season
of the roaring waters. She came slowly from the night and stood at the
edge of the circle of light. She was wearing Latisan's jacket and
cap--there was no mistaking the colors, the checkings and the stripes; a
drive master needs to signal his whereabouts to a crew just as a fire
captain must make himself conspicuous by what he wears.

They glanced at her garb, amazed by it. Then her face claimed all their
attention, for she said to them, her voice steady, her eyes meeting
theirs frankly, "I have overheard the talk a man has just made about a
girl who coaxed Ward Latisan away from his work here. I am the girl."

It seemed as if men had been holding their breath since her appearance;
in the profound silence the exhalations of that breath could be heard.

"But Ward Latisan did not run away with me from his duty. My being here
answers that lie. And I have even a better answer--a reason why I would
be the last one in the world to interfere willingly with his work this
spring." She stepped close to them, nearer the fire, so that they could
see what she held forth, tightly clutched in both hands. "This is
Echford Flagg's cant dog--he told me it would be known by all his men.
He gave it into my keeping for a sign that he has sent me north. And I
have a right to carry it. I am Lida Kennard. I am Echford Flagg's
granddaughter."

Behind her came crowding the Tarratines.

"Men have deserted from your crew. Here are others to take their
places," she announced with pride.

She was dealing with men who were bashed by utter stupefaction; she
noted it and her self-reliance grew steadier. She drove the point of the
cant dog into the soft duff with a manner after the heart of Flagg
himself. She spread her freed hands to them in appeal. "I have come here
to tell you the truth."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Latisan had pitched the tune for that drive when he started it.

It was a tune in quick tempo, with the staccato clangor of the kettle
drums of the dynamite when he burst the icy sheathing of the waters in
order to dump the first logs in.

When he was on the job the directing wand of his pick pole kept
everything jumping.

Even when he was away for a few days his men toiled with the spirit that
he had left with them. They had adopted his cause and shared his
righteous resentment against the tactics of the Three C's.

They were able to work on without his guidance, after a fa