at the ruins.
"Eet is all Ba'teese' fault--"

"I thought you were my friend, Ba'tiste."

"_Sacre_! I am."

"Then show it! We'll not be able to make a case against the
firebugs--even though you and I may be fairly sure who did it. Anyway,
it isn't going to break us. I've got about fifteen thousand in the
bank. There's enough lumber around here to build a new saw-shed of a
sort, and money to buy a few saws, even if we can't have as good a
place as we had before. We can manage. And I need help--I won't be
able to move without you. But--"

"_Oui_?"

"But," and Barry smiled at him, "if you ever mention any responsibility
for this thing again--you're fired. Do we understand each other?"

Very slowly the big trapper turned and looked down into the frank,
friendly eyes of the younger man. He blinked slightly, and then one
tremendous arm encircled Houston's shoulder for just a moment. At last
a smile came, to grow stronger. The grip about the shoulders
tightened, suddenly to give way to a whanging blow, as Batiste, jovial
now, drew away, pulled back his shoulders and squared himself as though
for some physical encounter.

"Ah, _oui_!" He bellowed. "_Oui, oui, oui_! _Bon_--good! Ba'teese,
he un'stan'. Now what you want me to do?"

"Take this bunch of men and turn to at clearing away this wreckage.
Then," and he smiled his confidence at Renaud, "make your plans for the
building of a saw-shed. That is--if you really want to go through with
it?"

"Ah, _oui--oui_!" The Canadian waved his arms excitedly and summoned
his men. For a moment, Barry stood watching, then returning to Agnes,
escorted her toward her cottage.

"Don't you think," he asked, as they walked along, "that you'd better
be going back? This isn't just the place for a woman, Agnes."

"Why not?"

"Because--well for one thing, this is a man's life out here, not a
woman's. There's no place for you--nothing to interest you or hold
you. I can't guarantee you any company except that of a cook--or some
one like that."

"But Mr. Thayer--" and Houston detected a strange tone in the
voice--"spoke of a very dear friend of yours, in whom I might be
greatly interested."

"A friend of mine?"

"Yes--a Miss Robinette. Fred said that she was quite interested in
you."

Houston laughed.

"She is--by the inverse ratio. So much, in fact, that she doesn't care
to be anywhere near me. She knows--" and he sobered, "that there's
something--bac