ed.

"Was it?" he asked. "I don't like him."

CHAPTER XVII

A TWO-FISTED MAN

A half-hour later when Bill sought out the boss in the little office,
the latter received him in surly silence; and as he read Appleton's
note his lip curled.

"So you think you'll make a lumberjack, do you?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation; nothing of doubt in the reply.

"My crew's full," the boss growled. "I don't need no men, let alone a
greener that don't know a peavey from a bark spud. Wha'd the old man
send you up here for, anyhow?"

"That, I presume, is _his_ business."

"Oh, it is, is it? Well, let me tell you first off--I'm boss of this
here camp!" Moncrossen paused and glared at the younger man. "You get
that, do you? Just you remember that what I say goes, an' I don't take
no guff offen no man, not even one of the old man's pets--an' that's
_my_ business--see?"

Bill smiled as the scowling man crushed the note in his hand and
slammed it viciously into the wood-box.

"Wants you broke in, does he? All right; I'll break you! Ag'in' spring
you'll know a little somethin' about logs, or you'll be so damn sick of
the woods you'll run every time you hear a log chain rattle; an' either
way, you'll learn who's boss of this here camp."

Moncrossen sank his yellow teeth into a thick plug of tobacco and tore
off the corner with a jerk.

"Throw yer blankets into an empty bunk an' be ready fer work in the
mornin'. I'll put you swampin' fer the big Swede--I guess that 'll hold
you. Yer wages is forty-five a month--an' I'm right here to see that
you earn 'em."

"Can I buy blankets here? I threw mine away coming out."

"Comin' out! Comin' in, you mean! Men come _in_ to the woods. In the
spring they go _out_--if they're lucky. Get what you want over to the
van; it'll be charged ag'in' yer wages." Bill turned toward the door.

"By the way," the boss growled, "what's yer name--back where you come
from?"

"Bill."

"Bill what?"

"No. Just Bill--with a period for a full stop. And that's _my_
business--see?" As Moncrossen encountered the level stare of the gray
eyes he leered knowingly.

"Oh, that's it, eh? All right, _Bill_! 'Curiosity killed the cat,' as
the feller says. An' just don't forget to remember that what a man
don't know don't hurt him none. Loggin' is learned _in_ the choppin's.
Accidents happens; an' dead men tells no tales. Them that keeps their
eyes to the front an' minds their own business gen'ally winte