Joan of Arc of the North Woods Part 6

The savageness of the punishment administered to the boastful Kyle might have shocked persons with squeamish dispositions; it was wildly humorous in the estimation of those men o' the forest. They were used to having their jokes served raw.

The roar that fairly put into the background the riot of the falling waters of the Noda was what all the region recognized as the ruination of a man's authority in the north country; it was the Big Laugh.

Flagg, when he could make himself heard by his boss, holding Kyle in his mighty grip, made mention of the Big Laugh, too. "Kyle, you've got it at last by your d.a.m.n folly. You're licked forever in these parts. I warned you. You went ahead against my word to you. You're no good to me after this." He yanked the list of names from Kyle's jacket pocket.

"Let me loose! I'm going to kill that----"

"You're going to walk out--and away! You're done. You're fired. You can't boss men after this. A boss, are you?" he demanded, with bitter irony. "All up and down this river, if you tried to boss men, they'd give you the grin and call you 'Co Boss'. They'd moo after you. Look at 'em now. Listen to 'em. Get out of my sight. I don't forgive any man who goes against my word to him and then gets into trouble." He thrust Kyle away with a force that sent the man staggering. He turned to the bashful chap, who had resumed his former demeanor of deprecation. "You're hired.

You've showed that you can drive oxen and I reckon you can drive logs."

The teamster was too thoroughly bulwarked by admirers to allow the rampant Kyle an opportunity to get at him. And there was Flagg to reckon with if violence should be attempted. The deposed first mate slunk away.

"That, my men," proclaimed the master, "is what the Big Laugh can do to a boss. No man can be a boss for me after he gets that laugh. I reckon I've hired my crew," he went on, looking them over critically. "Stand by to follow me north in the morning."

CHAPTER SIX

When the autocrat of the Noda strode away, a stalwart young man instantly obeyed Flagg's command--seizing the occasion to follow then and there. He had been standing on the outskirts of the throng, surveying the happenings with great interest. The men who were in his immediate vicinity, lumberjacks who were strangers in the Noda region, were plainly of his appanage and had obeyed his advice to keep out of the melee that had been provoked by Flagg's methods of selection.

When the big fellow hurried in pursuit of Flagg a bystander put a question to one of the strangers.

"You ought to know who he is," returned the questioned. "That's Ward Latisan."

And just then, apart from the crowd, having overtaken the autocrat, the young man was informing Flagg to that same effect.

Flagg halted, swung around, and rammed his cant dog into the ground.

"You've changed from a sapling into fair-sized timber since I saw you last. You look like old John, and that's compliment enough, I reckon.

How do you happen to be over in the Noda country?"

"I don't happen! I heard of the word you sent out. I came here on purpose, sir."

"What for?"

"To hire with you."

Flagg looked Latisan up and down and showed no enthusiasm. "Yes, I heard that you and your father had let the Three C's slam you flat. And what makes you think I want that kind of a quitter in my crew?"

Ward met the disparaging stare with a return display of undaunted challenge. "Because I belong in the crew of a man who is proposing to fight the Three C's."

Flagg grunted.

Latisan kept on. "You have been hiring men because they have been parading a lot of little grouches against the Comas folks. You need a man who has a real reason for going up against that outfit. And I'm the man."

"What you think about yourself and what I may think about you are two different things," retorted Flagg, with insolence. "Looks to me like you had got the Big Laugh over in your section. You have probably noticed what I just did in a case of that sort."

"I took it all in, sir."

"Well, what then?"

"They are not laughing with us or against us over in the Tomah, Mr.

Flagg. They all know what happened, and that we fought the Comas fair and square as long as we could keep on our feet. It was a trick that licked us. Craig held out the Walpole heir on us."

"I know about it; I manage to get most of the news." Flagg started to go on his way, but Ward put his clutch on the autocrat's arm.

"Pardon me, Mr. Flagg, but you're going to hear what I have to ask of you."

Mere apologetic suit would not have served with Flagg. He found this bold young man patterning after the Flagg methods in dealings with men.

The boldness of the grip on his arm gained more effectively than pleading.

"Ask it. I'm in a hurry."

"You have fired Kyle. I want his place."

"Well, I'll be----"

"You needn't be, sir. I'm a Latisan and I have bossed our drives. I have brought along a bunch of my own men who have bucked white water with me and are with me now in standing up for the principle of the independents. Allow me to say that luck is with you. Here's your chance to get hold of a man who can put heart and soul into this fight you're going to make."

"And now go on and tell me how much you admire me," suggested Flagg, sarcastically.

"I can't do that, sir. I'm going to tell you frankly I don't relish what I have heard about you. It's for no love of you that I'm asking for a chance to go up against the Comas people. It's because you're hard--hard enough to suit me--hard enough to let me go to it and show the Three C's they can't get away with what they're trying to do up here through Rufus Craig."

"All right. You're hired. You've got Ben Kyle's job," stated Flagg.

Latisan was not astonished by this precipitate come-about. He was prepared for Flagg's tactics by what he had set himself to learn about the autocrat's nature--quick to adjudge, tenacious in his grudges, inflexible in his opinion, bitterly ruthless when he had set himself in the way his prejudices selected.

"You have seen what happened to Kyle. Can you govern yourself accordingly?" Flagg in his turn had set his grip on Ward's arm.

"Yes, sir!"

"I'll kick you out just as sudden as I kicked him if anything happens to make men give you the grin. Can you start north with me in the morning?"

"Now or in the morning; it makes no difference to me, sir."

Flagg shifted his hand from Ward's arm to the young man's shoulder and propelled him back a few paces toward the crowd in front of the tavern.

"Listen, one and all! Here's my drive boss. He's old John Latisan's grandson. If that isn't introduction enough, ask questions about old John from those who remember him; this chap is like his grandfather."

Latisan went into the tavern after Flagg had marched away to the big house on the ledges. The crowd made way for the new drive boss; those in his path stared at him with interest; mumble of comment followed as the men closed in behind him. When he sat down in a corner of the tavern office and lighted his pipe his subalterns showed him deference by leaving him to himself. That isolation gave Landlord Brophy his opportunity to indulge his bent in gossip unheard by interlopers.

Brophy plucked a cigar from a box in the little case on the desk and sat down beside Ward. "I sympathize with you," he said by way of backhanded congratulation.

"Thank you."

"I was born in this tavern; my father built it and run it before me,"

said Brophy, tucking his cigar through the shrubbery of his gray mustache. "And so I've had the chance to know Ech Flagg a good many years. He's a turk."

"I have heard so."