Part 17 (1/2)
It was inconceivable.
Had the man loudly shouted his challenge or thrown up his guard when he dared him to strike, or had his eye twitched or burned with anger, he would have unhesitatingly lunged into a fight to the finish.
But he found himself at a disadvantage. He was up against something he did not understand. The calm a.s.surance of the stranger--his fists were not doubled and his lips smiled--disconcerted him.
A strange, p.r.i.c.kly chill tingled at the back of his neck, and in his heart he knew that for the first time in his life he dared not strike a man. He cast about craftily to save his face and took his cue from the other's smile. With an effort his loose, thick lips twisted into a grin.
”G'wan with yer jokin', stranger,” he laughed.
”Y'u d.a.m.n near made me mad--fer a minute,” and he turned to the table.
Instantly a clatter of noise broke forth. Men rattled dishes nervously in relief or disappointment, and the room was filled with the rumble of voices in unmeaning chatter. But in the quick glances which pa.s.sed from man to man there was much of meaning.
”G.o.d, man, that was Moncrossen!” whispered Fallon, when the two found themselves seated near the end of the table. Bill smiled.
”Was it?” he asked. ”I don't like him.”
CHAPTER XVII
A TWO-FISTED MAN
A half-hour later when Bill sought out the boss in the little office, the latter received him in surly silence; and as he read Appleton's note his lip curled.
”So you think you'll make a lumberjack, do you?”
”Yes.” There was no hesitation; nothing of doubt in the reply.
”My crew's full,” the boss growled. ”I don't need no men, let alone a greener that don't know a peavey from a bark spud. Wha'd the old man send you up here for, anyhow?”
”That, I presume, is _his_ business.”
”Oh, it is, is it? Well, let me tell you first off--I'm boss of this here camp!” Moncrossen paused and glared at the younger man. ”You get that, do you? Just you remember that what I say goes, an' I don't take no guff offen no man, not even one of the old man's pets--an' that's _my_ business--see?”
Bill smiled as the scowling man crushed the note in his hand and slammed it viciously into the wood-box.
”Wants you broke in, does he? All right; I'll break you! Ag'in' spring you'll know a little somethin' about logs, or you'll be so d.a.m.n sick of the woods you'll run every time you hear a log chain rattle; an' either way, you'll learn who's boss of this here camp.”
Moncrossen sank his yellow teeth into a thick plug of tobacco and tore off the corner with a jerk.
”Throw yer blankets into an empty bunk an' be ready fer work in the mornin'. I'll put you swampin' fer the big Swede--I guess that 'll hold you. Yer wages is forty-five a month--an' I'm right here to see that you earn 'em.”
”Can I buy blankets here? I threw mine away coming out.”
”Comin' out! Comin' in, you mean! Men come _in_ to the woods. In the spring they go _out_--if they're lucky. Get what you want over to the van; it'll be charged ag'in' yer wages.” Bill turned toward the door.
”By the way,” the boss growled, ”what's yer name--back where you come from?”
”Bill.”
”Bill what?”