naires.

So certain was O'Hara of ultimately cornering the standing timber that
he took his time about it, never dreaming that a rival might disturb him
in the wilderness of Sagamore County.

He began in the woodland which he had inherited, which ran for a mile on
either side of the river. This he leisurely cut, hired a few river
drivers, ran a few logs to Foxville, and made money.

Now he was ready to extend business on a greater scale; but when he came
to open negotiations with the score or more of landholders, he found
himself in the alarming position of a bidder against an unknown but
clever rival, who watched, waited, and quietly forestalled his every
movement.

It took a long time for O'Hara to discover that he was fighting a
combination of fifteen wealthy gentlemen from New York. Finally, when
the Sagamore Club, limited to fifteen, had completed operations, O'Hara
suddenly perceived that he was bottled up in the strip of worthless land
which he had inherited, surrounded by thousands of acres of preserved
property--outwitted, powerless, completely hemmed in. And that, too,
with the best log-driving water betwixt Foxville and Canada washing the
very door-sill of his own home.

At first he naturally offered to sell, but the club's small offer
enraged him, and he swore that he would never sell them an inch of his
land. He watched the new club-house which was slowly taking shape under
the trowels of masons and the mallets of carpenters; and his wrath grew
as grew the house.

The man's nature began to change; an inextinguishable hatred for these
people took possession of him, became his mania, his existence.

His wife died; he sent his child to a convent school in Canada and
remained to watch. He did the club what damage he could, posting his
property, and as much of the river as he controlled. But he could not
legally prevent fishermen from wading the stream and fishing; so he
filled the waters with sawdust, logs, barbed-wire, brambles, and brush,
choking it so that no living creature, except perhaps a mink, could
catch a fish in it.

The club protested, and then offered to buy the land on O'Hara's own
terms. O'Hara cursed them and built a dam without a fishway, and sat
beside it nights with a loaded shot-gun.

He still had a few dollars left; he wanted millions to crush these rich
men who had come here to mock him and take the bread out of his mouth
for their summer's sport.

He had a shrewd young friend