the road which led to Adonia. Farms were scattered
along the highway and he stopped at the first house and banged on the
door and entreated. At two houses he was turned away relentlessly. The
third farmer was a wrinkled old chap who came down to the door, thumbing
his suspenders over his shoulders.

"Ward Latisan, be ye?" He peered at the countenance lighted by the
lantern. "Yes, I can see enough of old John in ye to prove what ye
claim. I worked for old John when I was young and spry. And one time he
speared his pick pole into the back of my coat and saved me from being
carried down in the white water. And that's why ye can have a hoss to go
where ye want to go, and ye can bring him back when you're done with
him."

Therefore, not by any merit of his own, Ward secured a mount and
journeyed dismally toward the north. The farm horse was fat and stolid
and plodded with slow pace; for saddle there was a folded blanket. With
only the lantern to light the way, he did not dare to hurry the beast.
It was not until wan, depressing light filtered from the east through
the mists that he ventured to make a detour which would take him outside
of Adonia. He realized that Craig would have arranged for tote teams to
be waiting at Adonia, as he had had a special waiting at the junction,
and was by that time far on his way toward Skulltree dam.

Latisan beat the flanks of the old horse with the extinguished lantern
and made what speed he could along the blazed trail that would take him
to the tote road of the Noda basin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The flare of the Flagg camp fires painted the mists luridly; the vapor
rolled sluggishly through the tree tops and faded into the blackness of
the night.

Lida was seated apart from the men of the crew, knowing that they
mercifully wished to spare her from hearing the plans for the morrow.

The logs were down the deadwater to a point where the supremacy at
Skulltree dam must be settled.

She could hear the mumble of the voices of those who were in conference
around the fires.

Across a patch of radiance she beheld the swaggering promenade of one of
the young cookees; he brandished a hatchet truculently. Old Vittum
reached out and swept the weapon from the youngster's grasp.

Lida heard Vittum's rebuke, for it was voiced sharply. "None o' that! We
don't fight that way. And I'm believing that there are still enough
honest rivermen in the Comas crowd to make it a square fight, lik