."

The man protested that he had had his supper before they came in;
whereupon the other seized him by the shoulders and thrust him down
roughly into a seat at the table.

"Well," he said, "you've got to have a little more. If it's good
enough for us, boys, it's not going to hurt him."

There was a murmur of concurrence when he looked around at the rest;
and the cook, seeing no help for it, made a valiant attempt to eat a
little of the greasy mess. Then he revolted from it and glanced at his
companions supplicatingly.

"I can't do it, boys. You'll let me off?" he pleaded.

None of the rest showed any sign of relenting. They were inclined to
be pitiless then, and the rude justice of the chopper's idea appealed
to them.

"When you've cleaned up that plate," said one.

The victim made a second futile attempt, and, after waiting some
minutes for him to proceed, they decided that it was too hot in the
shed, so, conveying him outside, they seated him on a great fir stump
sawed off several feet above the ground, with the plate beside him.
Then they took out their pipes and sat around to enjoy the spectacle.
As a rule there is very little cruelty in men of their kind; but they
were very human, and the cook had robbed them of a meal somewhat
frequently of late. Besides, they had smarted all day under Cassidy's
bitter tongue, and they felt that they must retaliate upon somebody.
No one said anything for several minutes, and then the big chopper
once more approached his victim.

"Now," he said, "since you have to go through with it, you may as well
start in. If you don't, I'll put the blame stuff down your throat."

It was, perhaps, no more than justice, for the cook was paid well; but
there was one man in the assembly to whom this did not altogether
appeal. The victim was frail and helpless, a watery-eyed, limp bundle
of nerves, with, nevertheless, a pitiful suggestion of outward dignity
still clinging to him, though his persecutors would have described him
aptly as a whisky tank. The former fact was sufficient for Weston, who
did not stop to think out the matter, but rose and strode quietly
toward the fir stump.

"I think this thing has gone far enough, boys. You'll have to let him
off," he said.

"No, sir," said the big chopper. "He's going right through. Anyway,
it's not your trouble. Light out before we rope you in too."

Weston did not move until three or four more strode forward hastily,
when he stooped for