and urged the horses down the tote road.
Craig would keep on fighting; but Flagg was no longer of Craig's
bigness. There was only one thing for Latisan to do--so that was why he
put so much of determination and warmth into his pledges to a man whom
he did not like from a personal standpoint. Flagg could not understand
why this stranger should be loyal; the old man's wits were numbed along
with his body.

"I'll be ripping at you with my tongue, because it's been my style--and
I'll be worse when I'm penned up." Flagg could not seem to hope for any
reform in himself. He was accepting his nature as something forged
permanently in the fires of his experience, not to be remolded.

"I'm not thin-skinned, sir. If you can't keep from abusing me about
business details, go ahead and abuse. It will ease your feelings and the
abuse will not hurt me, because I don't propose to do anything knowingly
to justify abuse. Twitting on real facts is what hurts. You hired me
because you knew I had good reasons for fighting the Comas on account of
the principle involved in the stand of the independents; you know that
I still have the reasons, no matter how much your tongue may run away
with you about foolish details."

He was looking forward to an opportunity to place himself even more
definitely on record in the hearing of Flagg. After the sun was up
Latisan expected to be able to grasp that opportunity at almost any turn
of the tote road. He knew he would meet the upcoming crew. Flagg's
horses on the trip north had made twice the speed of the plodding woods
teams, and the crew had been ordered to spend the night at any camp
where darkness overtook them.

Latisan heard, long before he came in sight of them, the shrill yells
with which sled load interchanged repartee with sled load; everlastingly
there was the monotone of the singers. It was plain that the same spirit
of gay adventure was inspiring the men.

The tote road was a one-track thoroughfare; Latisan picked a cleared
knoll at one side for his turnout switch and swung his horses up there
in order to give the heavy sleds passage.

"How the hell can they come singing? Stop 'em," moaned Flagg.

There were half a dozen sleds in close procession, and Ward's upflung
hand halted them when the leading sled came abreast.

By his own efforts Flagg propped himself into a sitting posture, braced
by his left arm.

Men leaped off the sleds and crowded forward in a phalanx, cupping with
t