actin' tergither es pardners, an' ye've got a
license ter know. These hyar riders air ergoin' ter handle ther men that
stands in my light--then I'm goin' ter everlastin'ly bust up ther
riders. I wouldn't love ter see 'em git too strong. Ye fights a forest
fire by buildin' back-fires, Sim, but ef ye lets ther back-fires burn
too long ye're es bad off es ye war when ye started out."

"How does ye aim ter take keer of me?" inquired the listener and Bas
replied promptly: "When ther time comes ter bust 'em up, we'll hev
strength enough ter handle ther matter. Leave thet ter me. You'll be
state's evi_dence_ then an' we'll prove thet ye ji'ned up ter keep watch
fer me."

Over Sim Squires' face spread the vapid grin that he used to conceal his
emotions.

"But thet all comes later on," enjoined Bas. "Meanwhile, keep preachin'
ter them fellers thet Thornton's buildin' up a case erginst 'em. Keep
'em skeered an' wrought up."

"I reckon we'd better not start away tergither," suggested Sim when they
had brought their business to its conclusion, "you go on, Bas, an' I'll
foller d'reckly."

When he stood alone in the house Sim spent a half-hour seeking to study
the ramifications of the whole web of intrigue from various angles of
consideration, but before he left the place he acted on a sudden thought
and, groping in the recess between plate-girder and overhang, he drew
out the dust-coated diary that Bas had thrust there and forgotten, long
ago. This Sim put into his pocket and took with him.

* * * * *

The winter dragged out its course and broke that year like a glacier
suddenly loosened from its moorings of ice. A warm breath came out of
the south and icicled gorges sounded to the sodden drip of melting
waters. Snowslides moved on hundreds of steeply pitched slopes, and fed
sudden rivulets into freshet roarings.

The river itself was no longer a clear ribbon but a turgid flood-tide
that swept along uprooted trees and snags of foam-lathered drift.

There was as yet neither bud nor leaf, and the air was raw and
bone-chilling, but everywhere was the restless stirring of dormant life
impulses and uneasy hints of labour-pains.

While the river sucked at its mud bank and lapped its inundated
lowlands, the walnut tree in the yard above the high-water mark sang
sagas of rebirth through the night as the wind gave tongue in its naked
branches.

But in the breast of Sim Squires this spirit of restl