rs
through. That's all."

Bill wondered at the seemingly irrelevant utterances of the boss, but
left the office without comment.

On the floor of the bunk-house Irish Fallon, assisted by several of the
men, was removing the skin from Diablesse, while others looked on.

The awkward hush that fell upon them as he entered told Bill that he
had been the subject of their conversation. Men glanced at him
covertly, as though taking his measure, and he soon found himself
relating the adventures of the trail to an appreciative audience, which
grinned approval and tendered flasks, which he declined.

Later, as he helped Fallon nail the wolfskin to the end of the
bunk-house he told him of the interview with Moncrossen. The Irishman
listened, frowning.

"Ye've made a bad shtar-rt wid um," he said, shaking his head. "Ye eyed
'im down in th' grub-shack, an' he hates ye fer ut. How ye got by wid
ut Oi don't know, fer he's a scr-rapper from away back, an' av he'd
sailed into ye Oi'm thinkin' he'd knocked th' divil out av ye, fer he's
had experience, which ye ain't. But he didn't dast to, an' he knows ut,
an' he knows that the men knows ut. An' now he'll lay fer a chanst to
git aven. Ut's th' besht ye c'n do--loike he says, kape th' two eyes av
ye to th' front an' moind yer own business--only kape wan eye behint ye
to look out fer throuble. Phwat fer job did he give yez?"

"I am to start swamping, whatever that is, for the big Swede."

The Irishman grinned.

"Oi thoucht so; an' may God have mercy on yer sowl."

"What is the matter with the Swede?"

"Mather enough. Bein' hand an' glove wid Moncrossen is good rayson to
suspicion any man. Fer t'is be the help av Shtromberg that Moncrossen
kapes a loine on th' men an' gits by wid his crooked wor-rk.

"He ain't long on brains nohow, Moncrossen ain't, an' he ain't a good
camp-boss nayther, fer all he gits out th' logs.

"Be bluff an' bullyin' he gits th' wor-rk out av th' crew; but av ut
wasn't that Misther Appleton lets um pay a bit over goin' wages, he'd
have no crew, fer th' men hate um fer all they're afraid av um.

"Th' rayson he puts ye shwampin' fer th' big Swede is so's he'll kape
an eye on yez. As long as ye do yer wor-rk an' moind yer own business
ye'll get along wid him as well as another. But, moind ye, phwin th'
bird's-eye shtar-rts movin' ye don't notice nothin,' or some foine
avenin' ye'll turn up missin'."

"What is this bird's-eye thing?" asked Bill. "What ha