Part 52 (1/2)
Not a man in the crew but swore by the boss, and each day threw himself into the work with a will that made for success. And each night, as he rolled into his bunk, not a man but knew that the boss himself had that day worked harder than he.
”Niver wuz such a crew in th' woods, miss,” boasted Daddy Dunnigan one afternoon as Ethel stood in the door of the cook-shack and watched the old man's preparation of the gigantic supper.
”Oi've logged a bit, here an' there, an' always Oi've be'n where min wuz--but niver Oi've seed 'em buckle down an' tear out th' bone, wan day wid another, save in th' so'gerin' days av Captain Fronte McKim.
”Th' same wuz th' boss's uncle, an' he's a McKim fr' th' sole av his feet to th' peak av his head, barrin' th' licker, an' th' min'll go t'rough h.e.l.l an' hoigh wather fer um, beggin' ye're pardon--an' he ain't no dommed angel, nayther, beggin' ut ag'in, miss.
”Ye sh'd see th' hand av poker he plays, an' th' beautiful swearin' av um, phwin things goes wrong! An' ye sh'd see um foight wanst! An' now he's gone an' poshted a foive per cint bonus av they bate Moncrossen's cut, an' uts loike handin' ut to 'em, 'cause he knows th' b'ys is already doin' their dommedest, beggin' ye're pardon, miss.
”Oi'll bet me winther's wages, come shpr-ring, we'll have Moncrossen shnowed undher dayper thin' yon smithy, an' they had to tunnel to foind ut.”
The girl laughed happily and pa.s.sed on with a great love in her heart for Daddy Dunnigan and the big, rough men out in the timber who were ”tearing out the bone” that _her_ man might make good.
Day by day the black pyramids of the rollways lengthened, and the skidways were pushed farther and farther into the timber. And, of all the men in the crew, none worked harder nor to better purpose than Stromberg, the big hulking Swede, whom Fallon had warned Bill was the brains of Moncrossen's bird's-eye gang.
Neither Bill nor the big swamper had ever alluded to that affair in the bunk-house upon the night of their first meeting, and it was with a feeling of surprise that the foreman looked up one evening as he sat alone in the little office to see Stromberg enter and cross to his side.
The man lost no time in coming to the point.
”Bill,” he began, ”I went up with Buck Moncrossen this summer to bring down the bird's-eye. We found a pile of ashes where the logs should have been. Moncrossen thinks Creed burned them--or let someone do it.
”It was a crooked game, and I was in it as deep as any one. I ain't trying to beg off--but, I'd rather be square than crooked--and that's the truth. I ain't spent most of my life in the woods not to be able to tell hardwood ashes from soft-wood, and I know you slipped one over on us.
”You're going to make good in the woods. You'll be the big boss, some day. I expect to do time for my part in the bird's-eye game, and I'll take all that's coming to me. And I won't snitch on the rest to get a lighter sentence, either.
”I know Appleton, and I know we'll get ours in the spring, but what I want to know is: when I get out, can I come to you for a job?”
Bill rose from his chair and thrust a big hand toward the other.
”Stromberg,” he said, ”you are no more a crook than I am. You threw in with a bad bunch--that's all. Suppose we just forget the bird's-eye business. You and Fallon are the two best men I've got.
”We are going to beat Moncrossen this year, and every man in the crew has got to help do it--and next winter--well, Mr. Appleton will have an eye peeled for a man to take Moncrossen's job--see?”
The two big men shook hands, and as he made his way to the bunk-house, Stromberg wondered at the peculiar smile on the boss's lips as he said:
”There are a h.e.l.l of a lot of good men wasted because of a bad start.
So-long.”
The weeks slipped rapidly by. The weather settled, keen and cold, with the crew keyed to the highest pitch of efficiency.
”Beat Buck Moncrossen!” became the slogan of the camp, and with the lengthening days it became apparent that a record cut was being banked on the rollways.
It was a wonderful winter for Ethel Manton. The spirit of the big country entered her blood. More and more she loved the woods, and learned to respect and admire the rough loyalty of the big men of the logs.
She had come to call most of them by name, as with a smile and a nod, or a wave of the hand, she pa.s.sed them in the timber on her daily excursions in search of rabbits and ptarmigan. And not a man in the crew but would gladly have fought to the last breath for ”the boss's girl.”
And now the feel of spring was in the air. Each day the sun climbed higher and higher, and the wind lost its sting. The surface of the snow softened by day, and high-piled white drifts settled slowly into soggy ma.s.ses of saturated, gray slush.