't see
anything to do but to swallow your medicine with as little of a wry
face as possible."

It was with this ultimatum that Houston turned again for the West, glad
to be out of Boston, glad to be headed back once more for the
mountains, in spite of the fact that the shadows of his life had
followed him even there, that the ill luck which seemed to have been
perched continuously on his shoulders for the past two years still
hovered, like a vulture, above him. What he was going to do, how he
could hope to combat the obstacles which had arisen was more than he
could tell. He had gone into the West, believing, at worst, that he
would be forced to become the general factotum of his own business.
Now he found there was not even a business; his very foundations had
been swept from beneath him, leaving only the determination, the grim,
earnest resolution to succeed where all was failure and to fight to
victory--but how?

Personally, he could not answer the question, and he longed for the
sight of the shambling little station at Tabernacle, with Ba'tiste, in
answer to the telegram he had sent from Chicago, awaiting him with the
buggy from camp. And Ba'tiste was there, to boom at him, to call
Golemar's attention to the fact that a visit to a physician in Boston
had relieved the bandaged arm of all except the slightest form of a
splint, and to literally lift Houston into the buggy, tossing his
baggage in after him, then plump in beside him with excited happiness.

"_Bon_!" he rumbled. "It is good you are back. Ba'teese, he was
lonely. Ba'teese, he was so excite' when he hear you come. He have
good news!"

"About what?"

"The railroad. They are near' through with the tunnel. Now they shall
start upon the main road to Salt Lake. And they shall need
timbers--_beaucoup_! Ties and beams and materials! They have ask for
bids. Ah, _oui_. Eet is, what-you-say, the swollen chance! M'sieu
Houston shall bid lower than--"

"How, Ba'tiste?" Houston asked the question with a dullness that
caused the aged trapper to turn almost angrily upon him.

"How? Is eet putty that you are made of? Is eet--but no, Ba'teese,
he, what-you-say, misplace his head. You think there is no chance, eh?
Mebbe not. Me'bbe--"

"I found a copy of that contract in our files. The clerk I had in the
office was in the conspiracy. I fired him and closed everything up
there; as far as a Boston end to the business is concerned, there is
non