The Promise Part 18

Two hundred and fifty pounds, thought Bill, as the man, snorting disagreeably, paused before him and fixed him with an insolent stare.

"Hey, you! Boss says you swamp for me," he snorted. Bill nodded indifferently.

"You know how to swamp good?" he asked. Bill studied the toes of his moccasins and, without looking up, replied with a negative shake of his head.

"I learn you, all right. In couple days you swamp good, or I fix you."

Bill looked up, encountered the watery glare of the blue eyes, and returned his gaze to the points of his moccasins. The voice of the Swede grew more aggressive. He snorted importantly as the men looked on, and smote his palm with a ponderous fist.

"First thing, I duck you in waterhole. Then I slap you to peak an'

break off the peak." The men snickered, and Stromberg, emboldened by the silence of his new swamper, continued:

"It's time boys was in bed. To-morrow I make you earn your wages."

Bill rose slowly from his seat, and as he looked again into the face of the big Swede his lips smiled. But Fallon noticed, and others, that in the steely glint of the gray eyes was no hint of smile, and they watched curiously while he removed his mackinaw and tossed it carelessly onto the edge of a near-by bunk from where it slipped unnoticed to the floor.

Stromberg produced a bottle, drank deep, and returned the flask to his pocket. He rasped the fire from his throat with a harsh, grating sound, drew the back of his hand across his mouth, and kicked contemptuously at the mackinaw which lay almost at his feet.

As he did so a long, thick envelope, to which was tightly bound the photograph of a girl, slipped from the inner pocket. Instantly he stooped and seized it.

"Haw, haw!" he roared, "the greener's got a woman. Look, she's a----"

"Drop that!" The voice was low, almost soft in tone, but the words cut quick and clear, with no hint of gentleness.

"Come get it, greener!" The man taunted as he doubled a huge fist, and held the photograph high that the others might see.

Bill came. He covered the intervening s.p.a.ce at a bound, springing swiftly and straight--as panthers spring; and as his moccasined feet touched the floor he struck. Once, twice, thrice--and all so quickly that the onlookers received no sense of repeated effort.

The terrific force of the well-placed blows, and their deadly accuracy, seemed to be consecutive parts of a single, continuous, smoothly flowing movement.

In the tense silence sounds rang sharp--the peculiar smack of living flesh hard hit, as the first blow landed just below the ear, the dull thump of a heavy body blow, and the clash of teeth driven against teeth as the sagging jaw of the big Swede snapped shut to the impact of the long swing that landed full on his chin's point.

The huge form stiffened, spun half-way around, and toppled sidewise against a rack of drying garments, which fell with a crash to the floor.

Without so much as a glance at the ludicrously sprawled figure, Bill picked up his mackinaw and returned the envelope to the pocket.

"Irish," he asked, "where is the van? I must get some blankets. My nurse, there, says it's time to turn in."

"Oi'll go wid ye," said Fallon, and a roar of laughter followed them out into the night.

CHAPTER XVIII

"BIRD'S-EYE" AND PHILOSOPHY

Bill quickly made his purchases, and shouldering the roll of blankets, followed Irish to the head of a rollway, where the two seated themselves on the bunk of a log sled.

"Oi don't know how ye done ut," Fallon began. "'Twas th' handiest bit av two-fisted wor-rk Oi iver see'd. 'Tis well ye've had ut out wid Shtromberg. Fer all his crookedness, he's a bether man thin th' boss, an' he'll not be layin' that lickin' up ag'in yez. 'Twas a foight av his own pickin', an' he knows ye've got him faded.

"Aven av he w'ud of befoor, he'll see to ut that no har-rm comes to ye now t'rough fault av his own, fer well he knows the men 'ud think 'twas done to pay ye back, an' he'll have no wish to play th' t.i.tle role at a hangin'.

"From now on, 'tis only Moncrossen ye'll have to watch, fer ye're in good wid th' men. We undershtand ye now. Ye see, in th' woods we don't loike myshtery an', whiles we most av us know that Moncrossen's givin'

Appleton th' double cross, 'tis none av our business, an' phwin we thoucht ye'd come into th' woods undher false pretinces to catch um at ut, they was more or less talk.

"Mesilf was beginnin' to think ye'd come into th' woods fer th' rist cure, ye read about in th' papers, seein' ye'd loafed about fer maybe it's foive hours an' done nothin' besides carve up th' werwolf an' her pack, eye down th' boss in his own grub-shack, an' thin top off th'

avenin' be knockin' th' big Swede cold, which some claims he c'ud put th' boss himself to th' brush, wunst he got shtar-rted. But now we know phy ye're here. We're pr-roud ye're wan av us."

"What do you mean--you know why I am here? I am here because I needed a job, and Appleton hired me."

"Sure, lad. But, ye moind th' picture in yer pocket. 'Twas a woman."

"But----"

"'Tis none av our business, an' 'tis nayther here nor there. Av there's a woman at th' bottom av ut, 'tis rayson enough--phwativer happens."

Bill laughed.

"You were going to tell me about the bird's-eye," he reminded.

"Ut's loike this: Here an' yon in th' timber there's a bird's-eye tree--bird's-eye maple, ye know. 'Tis scarce enough, wid only a tree now an' again, an' ut takes an expert to spot ut.

"Well, th' bird's-eye brings around a hundred dollars a thousan', an'

divil a bit av ut gits to Appleton's mills.

"Moncrossen's got a gang--Shtromberg's in ut, an' a Frinch cruiser named Lebolt, an' a boot-leggin' tree-spotter named Creed, that lives in Hilarity, an' a couple av worthless divils av sawyers that's too lazy fer honest wor-rk, but camps t'rough th' winter, trappin' an sawin' bird's-eye an calico ash on other men's land.

"Shtromberg'll skid till along toward sphring phwin he'll go to teamin'. Be that toime th' bird's-eye logs'll be down, here an' there in th' woods beyant th' choppin's, an' Shtromberg'll haul um an' bank um on some river; thin in th' summer, Moncrossen an' his men'll slip up, toggle um to light logs so they'll float, an' raft um to th'

railroad phwere there'll be a buyer from th' Eastern vaneer mills waitin'.

"Ut's a crooked game, shtealin' Appleton's logs, an' haulin' um wid Appleton's teams, an' drawin' Appleton's wages fer doin' ut.

"Now, bechune man an' man, th' big Swede's th' brains av th' gang. He's a whole lot shmar-rter'n phwat he lets on. Such ain't th' nature av men, but 'tis th' way av women."

Irish thoughtfully tamped his pipe-bowl, and the flare of the match between his cupped palms brought out his honest features distinctly in the darkness. Bill felt a strong liking for this homely philosopher, and he listened as the other eyed him knowingly and continued:

"'Tis be experience we lear-rn. An' th' sooner a man lear-rns, th'

bether ut is fer um, that all women know more thin they let on--an'

they've always an ace fer a hole car-rd bekase av ut.

"Fer women run men, an' men politics, an' politics armies, an' armies th' wor-rld--an' at th' bottom av ut all is th' wisdom an' schemin' av women.

"Phwin a man fools a woman, he's a fool--fer she ain't fooled at all.

But, she ain't fool enough to let on she ain't fooled, fer well she knows that as long as she knows more thin he thinks she knows, she holds th' edge--an' th' divil av ut is, she does.

"Take a man, now; phwin ye know um, ye know um. He's always willin' to admit he's as shmar-rt as he is, or a d.a.m.n soight shmar-rter, which don't fool no wan, fer 'tis phwat they expect.