o answer, shot a crafty look at the man
before him.

"Now, if you was able," he went on, "you c'd take the tote-sled down to
Hilarity an' fetch us a cook. It seems like that's the onliest way;
there ain't nary 'nother man I c'n spare--an' he's a good cook, old
Daddy Dunnigan is, if he'll come. He's a independent old cuss--work if
he damn good an' feels like it, an' if he don't he won't.

"If you think you c'n tackle it, I'll have the blacksmith whittle you
out a crutch, an' you c'n take that long-geared tote team an' make
Hilarity in two days. They's double time in it for you," he added, as a
matter of special inducement.

Bill did not hesitate over his decision.

"All right; I think I can manage," he said. "When do I start?"

"The team'll be ready early in the mornin'. If you start about four
o'clock you c'n make Melton's old No. 8 Camp by night without crowdin'
'em too hard. It's the first one of them old camps you strike, and you
c'n stable the horses without unharnessin'; just slip off the bridles
an' feed 'em."

Bill nodded. At the door Moncrossen halted and glanced at him
peculiarly.

"I'm obliged to you," he said. "For a greener, you've made a good hand.
I'll have things got ready."

Bill was surprised that the boss had paid him even this grudging
compliment, and as he sat beside the big stove, puzzled over the
peculiar glance that had accompanied it.

In a few minutes, however, he dismissed the matter and turned again to,
his six-months-old magazine. Could he have followed Moncrossen and
overheard the hurried conversation which took place in the little
office, he would have found food for further reflection, but of this he
remained in ignorance; and, all unknown to him, a man left the office,
slipped swiftly and noiselessly into the forest, and headed southward.

"'Tis a foine va-acation ye're havin' playin' nurse fer a pinched toe,
an' me tearin' out th' bone fer to git out th' logs on salt-horse an'
dough-gods 't w'd sink a battle-ship. 'Tis a lucky divil ye ar-re
altogither," railed Fallon good-naturedly as he returned from supper
and found Bill engaged in the task of swashing arnica on his bruised
foot.

"Oh, I don't know. I'll be back in the game to-morrow."

"To-morry!" exclaimed Irish, eying the swollen and discolored member
with a grin. "Yis; ut'll be to-morry, all right. But 'tis a shame to
waste so much toime. Av ye c'd git th' boss to put ye on noight shift
icin' th' skidways, ye wudn'