ged from a perilous situation with little damage,
Torrance was nursing a keen sense of injury when Conrad returned from
his visit to the Police and saw a light still burning in the shack.
The foreman listened to the story with more concern than anger. The
danger lay not in what the bohunks demanded--they could resist
that--but in the insolent confidence that put the demand into words.
Therein, was displayed a disturbing sense of power, a reckless daring
to strike the boss in his most sensitive convictions. It could only
mean that they were prepared to bring matters to a head without loss of
time.

And the trestle was just ready for the final touches!

That the incident increased the difficulties of his own position did
not enter Conrad's head. Thoughtful eyes moving from father to
daughter, his first words betrayed his main anxiety.

"Tressa can leave right away for the East."

Surprise and indignation were added to the cloud of fury that twisted
Torrance's face; he was speechless. Tressa herself settled the
question:

"I'm not going."

"Send her out of the country for a few filthy bohunks!" sputtered her
father. He spat into the sawdust box and crammed a charge of tobacco
into his pipe with his uninjured hand, though the pain of holding the
pipe in his left hand made him wince. "I won't recognise them by so
much as a wink. They have my answer, and I imagine it was a bit
convincing--"

"The Indian can't always be on hand," said Conrad stubbornly.

Torrance screwed up his eyes.

"He's getting the habit of popping up unexpectedly. I wonder what's
the game. I thought I was strong, but that chap could whistle 'God
Save the King' and truss me up like a partridge at the same time. His
arms felt like them two trees that fell on me down Thunder Bay way.
I'd hate to have him on the other side in a fight."

The practical Conrad brought him back to the point.

"And now what?"

Torrance considered a moment.

"First we'll tell the Police. I was going to fire them off the bat,
but I'm too mad for that. I want to see them get a couple of years in
jail. I want the law to take a hand now; I've taught them _my_ law."

"What can the law do to them?"

The contractor eyed his foreman belligerently.

"What can it do? Don't you think coming up here and trying to
rough-house me is worth a year or two? Say, you don't think it was a
slapping match, or a pink tea sociable! Take a look about the room."
The sar