nges
and two bunks placed one over the other. Along one side ran a broad
table-shelf, with other shelves over it and numerous barrels underneath,
all filled with cans, loaves of bread, cookies, and pies. The center was
occupied by four long bench-flanked tables, down whose middle straggled
utensils containing sugar, apple-butter, condiments, and sauces, and
whose edges were set with tin dishes for about forty men. The cook, a
rather thin-faced man with a mustache, directed where the provisions
were to be stowed; and the "cookee," a hulking youth, assisted Thorpe
and the driver to carry them in. During the course of the work Thorpe
made a mistake.

"That stuff doesn't come here," objected the cookee, indicating a box of
tobacco the newcomer was carrying. "She goes to the 'van.'"

Thorpe did not know what the "van" might be, but he replaced the
tobacco on the sleigh. In a few moments the task was finished, with the
exception of a half dozen other cases, which the driver designated as
also for the "van." The horses were unhitched, and stabled in the third
of the big log buildings. The driver indicated the second.

"Better go into the men's camp and sit down 'till th' boss gets in," he
advised.

Thorpe entered a dim, over-heated structure, lined on two sides by a
double tier of large bunks partitioned from one another like cabins of
boats, and centered by a huge stove over which hung slender poles. The
latter were to dry clothes on. Just outside the bunks ran a straight
hard bench. Thorpe stood at the entrance trying to accustom his eyes to
the dimness.

"Set down," said a voice, "on th' floor if you want to; but I'd prefer
th' deacon seat."

Thorpe obediently took position on the bench, or "deacon seat." His
eyes, more used to the light, could make out a thin, tall, bent old man,
with bare cranium, two visible teeth, and a three days' stubble of white
beard over his meager, twisted face.

He caught, perhaps, Thorpe's surprised expression.

"You think th' old man's no good, do you?" he cackled, without the
slightest malice, "looks is deceivin'!" He sprang up swiftly, seized the
toe of his right foot in his left hand, and jumped his left foot through
the loop thus formed. Then he sat down again, and laughed at Thorpe's
astonishment.

"Old Jackson's still purty smart," said he. "I'm barn-boss. They ain't a
man in th' country knows as much about hosses as I do. We ain't had but
two sick this fall, an' between you a