e you
the young gent Dick's lookin' fer from down East?"

"Yes."

"Come right in, sonny, come right in an' eat. Dick allus eats with me,
an' he has spoke often 'bout you." He led me in, and seated me at a
bench where several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, clad
in overalls and undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, had
sawdust on his bare arms and even in his hair. The cook set before me
a bowl of soup, a plate of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which I
attacked with a good appetite. Presently the men finished their meat and
went outside, leaving me alone with the cook.

"Many men on this job?" I asked.

"More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night."

"Buell? Does he own this land?"

"No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land
belongs to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though.
Two freight-trains of lumber out every day."

"Is this Penetier Forest?" I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to
think hard.

"Sure."

I wanted to ask questions, but thought it wiser to wait. I knew enough
already to make out that I had come upon the scene of a gigantic lumber
steal. Buell's strange manner on the train, at the station, and his
eagerness to hurry me out of Holston now needed no more explanation. I
began to think the worst of him.

"Did you see a Mexican come into camp?" I inquired of the Negro.

"Sure. Greaser got here this mornin'."

"He tried to rob me in Holston."

"'Tain't nothin' new fer Greaser. He's a thief, but I never heerd of him
holdin' anybody up. No nerve 'cept to knife a feller in the back."

"What'll I do if I meet him here?"

"Slam him one! You're a strappin' big lad. Slam him one, an' flash your
gun on him. Greaser's a coward. I seen a young feller he'd cheated make
him crawl. Anyway, it'll be all day with him when Dick finds out he
tried to rob you. An' say, stranger, if a feller stays sober, this
camp's safe enough in daytime, but at night, drunk or sober, it's a
tough place."

Before I had finished eating a shrill whistle from the sawmill called
the hands to work; soon it was followed by the rumble of machinery and
the sharp singing of a saw.

I set out to see the lumber-camp, and although I stepped forth boldly,
the truth was that with all my love for the Wild West I would have liked
to be at home. But here I was, and I determined not to show the white
feather.

I passed a row of cook-shacks like t