with anxious eyes.

"You goin' down to talk to the boys?" he asked at last.

The man nodded.

"Yes. Right away. I'll do all I know."

"They'll listen to you."

The other smiled.

"Yes. Till the spook comes back."

Jean brushed the icicles from about his eyes.

"That's just it," he said. "An' meanwhile the cut's right plumb down. If
this thing don't quit the mill's going to starve when the ice breaks.
I've lost nigh three weeks' full cut already. It's--it's hell!"

"Yes."

The dark man moved away, and Jean sat on over the fire. But his troubled
eyes watched the curious figure as it passed over to its outfit. He saw
the man stoop over the litter of his goods. He saw him disentangle some
garment from the rest. When he came back the furs he had been clad in
were either abandoned or hidden under fresh raiment. The man towered an
awesome figure in the firelight. He was clad in black from head to foot,
and his garment possessed the flowing skirts of a priest.

"I'm going right down to the boys now," he said. "You best stop around
here. Just have an eye to the dogs. It's best you not being with me."

Jean nodded. He understood. Accompanied by the camp boss this man's
influence with the boys would have been seriously affected. Alone he was
well-nigh all powerful.

"Good," he said. "For God's sake do what you can, Father," he cried.
"I'll stop right here till you get back. So long."

CHAPTER XVIII

BULL STERNFORD'S VISION OF SUCCESS

"I'd say it's best story I've listened to since--since--Say, those
fellers are pretty big. They surely are."

Bat Harker stirred. He shifted his feet on the rail of the stove, where
the heavy leather soles of his boots were beginning to burn.

Bull's shining eyes were raised to his.

"Big?" he echoed. "I tell you that feller, Leader, has the widest vision
of any man I know."

He leant back in his chair and imitated his companion's luxurious
attitude. And so they sat silent, each regarding the thing between them
from his own angle.

It was the night of Bull's return from his journey to England. He had
completed the final stage only that afternoon. He had travelled overland
from the south headland, where he had been forced to disembark from the
_Myra_ under stress of weather. It was storming outside now, one of
those fierce wind storms of Labrador's winter, liable to blow for days
or only for a few hours.

He and Harker were closeted together in the warm comfort of