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Title: The chinook
Author: Frank Richardson Pierce
Illustrator: Robert A. Graef
Release date: August 22, 2026 [eBook #79432]
Language: English
Original publication: New York, NY: The Frank A. Munsey Company, 1928
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79432
Credits: Prepared by volunteers at BookCove (bookcove.net)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHINOOK ***
[Illustration: On the limb, the cougar suddenly felt the blood-lust]
THE CHINOOK
By Frank Richardson Pierce
All’s fair in love and timber war, thought the powerful
and unscrupulous Ludwig—but he badly underestimated young
Dan Todd, of the Forest Service
CHAPTER I.
THE GOLDEN SLIPPER
The rain was falling in torrents. The moss and rot of the forest floor
was like a sponge, into which the hoofs of the horse disappeared
silently, but from which they emerged with a sucking sound. The rider
sat humped up while water cascaded down the back of his yellow slicker
and dripped from the stiff brim of his Forest Service hat. “Stay with
it, Chinook, old hoss,” the rider said cheerfully; “we’ll soon be at
Black Lake cabin!”
Chinook had already quickened his pace after the manner of horses
knowing the day’s labor was nearly done. This day’s labor had extended
far into the night. It was dark in the great fir and cedar forest even
at midday, but now, at midnight, even Dan Todd’s accustomed eyes saw
little. He left progress entirely to his horse.
Once Chinook trembled and snorted, Todd knew they had just passed the
draw through which cougars frequently descended from mountain to valley.
This part of the trail ran along a timbered bench approximately halfway
between the mountain tops and the blue waters of Puget Sound. Cougars
dearly love horse flesh and horses know it.
This was but one of many thoughts running through Todd’s mind. Other
thoughts dwelled on the past with bitterness and on the future with
hope.
They had warned him no Forest Service man could buck Sim Ludwig and
remain in the service. Ludwig’s influence was too far-reaching. The
Service, proper, might be back of a man, but sooner or later he was
removed. Todd had bucked Ludwig and now he was on his way to some other
occupation. Just what, he did not know. One thing was certain, he would
no longer wear the uniform of the Forest Service.
Come to think of it, he was on Ludwig property at the present moment. Or
was it the Lowe holdings? It made little difference, one outfit was as
bad as the other. “Get it while the getting’s good,” was Ludwig’s motto.
“To hell with conservation,” was another. These were mottos to which the
Lowes said “Amen!!”
The trail narrowed, and when the shod hoofs struck fire on sloping rocks
Todd dismounted. The trail followed a ledge for several rods, and a slip
meant death. Dan led the way and Chinook followed. The man’s feet,
sensitive to the contour of the ground, could “feel” a trail in the
dark, but here he used a flashlight as a matter of precaution. As the
light picked up objects ahead, a flash of gold struck his eyes and
vanished.
“Now what!!” he exclaimed. “I saw gold as sure as—” The finger of light
moved nervously back and forth, then came to a stop.
Todd reached down and picked up the last thing he expected to find on
Flaming Falls Trail—a girl’s golden slipper. It was a beautifully
fashioned bit of footwear, and a pair might have cost anywhere from
twenty-five to one hundred dollars. “Wonder who it belongs to?” he
mused.
There was a streak of romance in Dan Todd that responded to the
situation. Forester finds golden slipper; seeks girl who can wear the
slipper; falls in love, marries and lives happily ever after. The old
Cinderella story with a different setting. He dismissed the thought with
a growl.
“Any girl that’d wear a slipper like that couldn’t mean a thing in the
life of a scrub timber cruiser out of a job!” But he tucked the slipper
away in his pocket, nevertheless. Ludwig’s hunting lodge was located on
Black Lake, a few rods from the Forest Service cabin, and it was known
among the rangers that wild parties occasionally took place there. In
fact more than one tired ranger had had a good night’s sleep ruined.
He was recalling various stories when the sound of hurrying water burst
upon him. Todd had covered the distance between the ledge and the bridge
in less time than he realized.
“No need of climbing aboard again, Chinook; might as well walk the rest
of the way. Hello, here’s a track in the mud, several of ’em. That girl
was along here a few minutes ago, the water hasn’t seeped into the heel
holes yet. Now that’s queer. She had one slipper on and the other off.
Oh, well—probably they’re all lit at the lodge and some girl lost a bet
and had to run to the ledge and back; probably scared stiff, too, of
cougars and bobcats.”
Forty or fifty years previous a mighty cedar had fallen across the
stream. Converting this into a bridge had been a mere matter of building
an approach and hewing off the top of the trunk. The bridge was from
three to four feet in width. A quarter of a mile beyond, the timber
ended as abruptly as though cut with a scythe, as indeed it had—the
scythe of the modern logger; electric logging engines, high leads and
standard gauge railways.
* * * * *
Half expecting to see the lodge ablaze with lights, Todd was surprised
to find the entire clearing in utter darkness. Not so much as a
flickering candle broke the gloom. Chinook sniffed at something off to
the left, and the man, who was still afoot, pulled him back. “You’re
always getting curious over something; come on, it’s raining harder than
ever.”
Obeying the woodsman’s instinct to glance at all cabins he might pass
during the day, Todd flashed the light on the lodge. The door stood
open, the rain beating in. “Now that’s queer. Ludwig’s usually sober
enough to close up the place when he leaves. I’ll have to take a look at
that.” He did not stop, but continued on to the Forest Service cabin,
snug, dry, fueled and well stocked with grub.
He pulled the pack off his horse, dropped it on the cabin floor, slapped
the horse on the neck, signaling he could go to the shed, and then
entered and built a fire. A click of hoof against stone was Dan’s first
warning Chinook had not gone to the shed, but was back-trailing.
He hurried out and whistled. The horse stopped, then continued.
“Best horse that ever leaped a log,” the man growled, “but stubborn as
they make ’em. Once he makes up his mind to investigate something you
might as well let him do it. Now I’ve got to drag him out of the rain.”
Flashing the light, Dan Todd trailed the horse to a point on the edge of
the clearing. Chinook was sniffing—sniffing at something pink, lovely,
and seemingly lifeless. In the half light it appeared to be the partly
dressed body of a beautiful girl, but closer inspection disclosed the
fact she was dressed in an evening frock of a delicate pink shade, and
that her feet were bare and cut, her stockings in shreds. Dan remembered
the golden slipper, then picked her up. She was cold, but it was not the
chill of death.
She was not heavy for a man of his strength, even as a dead weight. Dan
guessed she weighed a hundred and ten pounds, clothes and all. “And they
wear so little clothes,” he added, “you can hardly count them as
weight.”
Dan turned up the gasoline pressure lamp, hung a blanket over the stove,
which by this time was red hot, then proceeded to remove the torn,
sodden frock. It dropped to the floor, a crumpled, pitiful heap, that
somehow reminded the man of the girl.
She seemed crushed and broken. Her face was beautiful, the rain had
added to the curl of her light brown hair, her face held plenty of
character of the sort that can be directed for either good or bad
purpose, depending on the mode of life the owner wishes to follow. The
ears were small, and of sufficient beauty to expose—so many are not.
He wrapped the blanket about her and put the girl to bed. Then he piled
on more blankets, filled up all of the empty bottles in the place with
hot water, which he wrapped in towels and placed about her body and
legs. Then, as an afterthought, he wondered if there might not be a
little whisky in the lodge. Stern measures were necessary if he were to
ward off pneumonia.
She stirred uneasily and he delayed a moment. His hand dropping to his
coat pocket, touched the slipper. He drew it out, examined it a moment,
then reaching beneath the blankets, tried it on. If one made allowance
for dampness, the slipper went on easily enough.
“Hers,” he muttered; “guess I’d better find something before she gets in
a bad way. Wonder what it’s all about?”
In the excitement he had forgotten that it had been nearly twenty-four
hours since he had rested. With flashlight picking up the trail he
legged it down to the lodge only to stop, as though transfixed. “Good
God!” he exclaimed, and it was a prayer.
The body of a man in evening dress lay sprawled on the floor; a bullet
hole in almost the exact center of his forehead. It needed but the
briefest examination to determine that he was dead.
This was a case for the authorities and Dan did not step beyond the
body. The flashlight picked up many objects of interest, however. The
table had been set, a meal prepared for several people and partly eaten.
The heavy odor of moonshine lingered; the room was still warm and there
were footprints on the floor—small, incomplete footprints, somewhat
damp, showing only the heel and the ball of the foot.
Again Dan took the golden slipper from his pocket and did a little
comparing. “Made with this very slipper,” was his verdict. “Now isn’t
that the deuce?”
Working his way along the wall so as not to disturb possible evidence,
he picked up the telephone. A private wire ran from the lodge to town.
The instrument was dead.
He closed the door and returned to the Forest Service cabin. The usual
service wire connected the cabin with the outer world. It, likewise, was
dead.
He glanced at the girl. Color had returned to her cheeks, but she was
still unconscious. He caught up a portable instrument and flashlight and
started down the trail. Twice he connected up only to find a dead wire,
but the third attempt, some half mile from the cabin was successful.
“Hello,” he cried, “this is Dan Todd at the Black Lake cabin. Connect me
with the sheriff’s office, please. Thanks!” Another delay, then a sleepy
voice, very faint, inquired what was wanted.
“There has been a murder committed at Black Lake lodge,” he shouted,
“I’ve left everything exactly as I found it and I’ll stay here until
some one shows up!”
“We can make it by sun-up with luck.” The deputy was wide awake now!
Having performed this necessary duty Dan Todd trotted back up the trail
again. By this time his patient should have recovered, he reasoned. And
she had.
She was gone!
Suspecting kidnapping, or almost anything, in fact, he looked down on
the floor for the wet footprints that everyone entering from without
must leave. There were none but his own.
He looked about for a note or some clew as to her reason for leaving
almost as soon as she regained consciousness. There was none. Todd’s
next move was to return to the lodge. He was prepared for anything
now—the body missing, evidence destroyed. But nothing had been
disturbed. The girl at least was intent on escape rather than
destruction of evidence.
Somewhat belatedly he remembered Chinook had not been seen. He hurried
down to the shed that served as a stable. The stable was empty. “She’s
taken my horse!” he cried. “I wonder what else she got away with.”
Checking up on the contents of his pack he noted the following articles
missing. One pair of waterproof pants; a flannel shirt; socks, boots,
slicker and hat. A pack he had noticed hanging on the wall was also
gone, and with it a quantity of grub. He checked over the blankets and
found two missing.
For several minutes he stood there, debating on his next course, then a
slow grin spread over his face. “She’ll be a sight for the gods. She’s
about five feet five, and I’m six feet three and she’s wearing my
clothes. Well, they’re good clothes and will keep her dry, but she’ll
have a tough time walking in my boots.”
CHAPTER II.
FLAMING FALLS.
Dawn was long in coming; the hours dragged and though Dan Todd nodded he
did not sleep with the responsibility of guarding the lodge on his mind.
He thought of the girl, too. Beautiful and determined. She might be one
who enjoyed Sim Ludwig’s wild lodge parties, but she did not look the
type.
The romantic in his make-up again asserted itself and he found himself
not only excusing her connection with the case, but actually defending
her.
“There must be some way to explain it,” he reasoned. “Still, the job was
done with a small weapon—the sort a girl might carry. Oh, well, I’m not
a law enforcement officer, so why should I worry. I’ve promised myself a
long vacation in town with a trip to California and I’m going to take
it. Then I’ll come back and find something to do. I’d prefer some kind
of a job that would worry Ludwig!”
It had stopped raining almost as suddenly as it started. The higher
ridges, slopes and peaks were covered with a fresh fall of snow, but the
lower levels were pouring cold, clear streams of water into the river
that was now almost at the flood stage. The air held that wet freshness
that only a rain-drenched forest can give. Dan breathed deeply and
stepped outside.
The sun had just touched the topmost peak, changing it from white to
pink. Dawn came leisurely in the lower levels and Dan’s inspection was
as leisurely. The empty shed reminded him of Chinook. The big black was
certainly working overtime. He hoped the girl would go easy with him.
Again came the thought, “Who is she?”
His ponderings were broken in on suddenly. Half covered with mud lay a
small automatic pistol. He picked the weapon up, washed off the mud
which covered the butt and examined the clip. One cartridge had been
discharged. There was the same imprint of the golden slipper in the mud
near by, as if here she had paused to hurl the weapon away.
He experienced a strong desire to step on the imprint and destroy it.
Almost in disgust he growled, “And why should I help some girl who
probably went into the mess with her eyes open?”
The sheriff and his deputies arrived several minutes later after a hard
ride during which both horses and a logging road-speeder had figured.
The official was brief and to the point. Questions asked and answered,
he opened the lodge door and looked around. “Any of you boys know him?”
“No,” they answered.
He searched the dead man’s pockets. “Robbery wasn’t the motive. Plenty
of money, watch and rings, too. Here’s a card case. John Day Burke. I’ve
heard of him, but can’t place him.”
“Connected with Ludwig, wasn’t he?” a deputy suggested. “One of Ludwig’s
right-hand men. He usually has several around that’ll take orders. Seems
to me—”
But the sheriff was too busy studying the evidence. He did not voice his
conclusions, but turning the matter over to the deputy coroner who had
accompanied the posse, he directed his attention now at Dan Todd. “What
did you find, if anything?”
“This!” He handed the automatic pistol to the official.
“Anything more?” Then, noticing just the slightest hesitation on Todd’s
part, he added, “Out with it. Don’t keep anything back, Todd!”
“I’m not! I also found this!” He handed over the gold slipper.
“Where?”
“This side of the ledge in the mud!”
“That’s the way she went, then,” the sheriff announced.
“Don’t be too sure of it, sheriff, Todd suggested. “I later found her
unconscious in the rain; packed her to the cabin and put her to bed;
went down the trail to telephone you and when I came back, a half hour
later, she was gone. She took my horse, Chinook, with her, too!”
“Anything else?”
“Grub and clothes, blankets and pack!”
“All yours?”
“All except the grub and pack.”
“Stick up your hand an I’ll swear you in as a deputy—”
“But I don’t want to be a deputy. I’m on my way to town, sheriff. This
case—”
“Makes no difference what you want,” the sheriff retorted. “As a member
of the Forest Service you’ve probably sworn in many an unwilling man to
fight fire; and properly so. Don’t kick now, Todd!”
“I’m not kicking. I merely tried to avoid it. Now that I can’t I’ll go
ahead and see the thing through. What do you want me to do?”
“You know the short cuts and trails better than any man in the posse.
Clear out and head the girl off if you can. In the meantime we’ll do
what we can! Not wishing to speak ill of the dead, but from what I’ve
heard of John Day Burke a pretty girl might well honestly plead
self-defense.”
* * * * *
The short cuts Dan Todd knew were no place for a horse. Many of them
were game trails, easy enough to follow, but cleared out to the size of
a deer. He did not even take grub, except for a pocket filled with
hardtack and cheese. “Taking a gun with you, aren’t you?” the sheriff
inquired.
“No. I wouldn’t shoot a girl if I never brought her in,” Dan answered.
Twice during the day he cut down to the main trail to see whether
Chinook and his fair horse-thief had passed. They had! She was making
good time despite the exhausted condition of the animal.
Dan slept in a shelter cabin that night and at dawn headed for Flaming
Falls. At this point the trails forked and she might have taken any one
of several. If she tackled the mountain pass, Dan could only wish her
luck at this season of the year.
He worked down a ridge with the sun. Presently he stopped. Girl hunt or
no girl hunt, here was a sight he never missed when in the vicinity. It
was the sun striking Flaming Falls. The stream spilled over a ledge
nearly a hundred feet high. The last mad rush of water was over a series
of cascades so that when it leaped over the brink it was already lashed
white. As the sun at certain angles changes a mountain peak to pink,
gold and flame, so did the sun for a brief time each morning change the
water to pink, deep red that suggested a flaming pillar.
He watched it, entranced as usual, and suddenly above the roar of water
came the welcoming whinny of a horse. “Chinook!” he cried, and began to
close in.
A new instinct the girl had developed since she was hunted warned her.
She gave the surrounding brush and timber a quick, searching look, then,
seeing nothing, grew somewhat calmer. But her muscles remained tense.
Somehow Dan was reminded of a doe poised for flight.
He stepped into the open, undetermined how to quiet her alarm, when she
again looked up. She saw him and without an instant’s hesitation leaped
onto a log floating in the pool beyond the falls. A vigorous kick sent
it into the current and beyond his reach.
Dan Todd’s face grew deathly pale. He knew what she did not or, if she
did, did not appreciate—the series of rapids four miles down. He prayed
she wouldn’t remain afloat that long, but would either go ashore or be
spilled in safe water.
He ran to the bank and cupped his hands. “Don’t do it!” he shouted. “The
rapids! You’ll be drowned! The rapids! Go ashore!”
She was crouching low, and if she heard him, which was doubtful, gave no
sign. The jaw he had noticed as she lay unconscious on the bunk was set.
She would see it through—regardless. He whistled sharply, and Chinook
galloped to him. “You’ve done more than your share, old hoss, but you’ve
got to do some more!”
Following a game trail, Dan galloped downstream at top speed. The horse
could keep pace with the current in spite of frequent stops where the
brush was thick, but it needed more than that to win. A short cut across
a bend gave the necessary margin.
Dan glanced upstream. The girl was coming swiftly. He managed to get a
log into the water and, with the aid of a long pole, shot out to
intercept her. As she bounced by he drove his own pole to the bottom,
vaulted and landed on the end of her log. With deft movements of his
calked boots Dan steadied the log, then looked at the girl.
She was defiant. “If you come near me I’ll jump,” she threatened.
“And—and—I don’t care if I drown!” She presented an interesting picture
in his oversized clothing.
“No,” he said firmly, “you’re not going to drown. I won’t let you! If
you jump overboard you’ll merely be wet, cold, miserable, and—alive!
There are rapids downstream that will tax the skill of the best white
water man. I’m a poor one, incidentally. We go ashore here!” Narrowly
watching the girl, he sent the log to within a few yards of shore. The
remainder of the way was over a series of boulders.
With a tired sigh she dropped to the sand, which at this point was dry,
thanks to a brief period of sunshine. “What are you going to do with me,
Mr. ——” She looked up at him questioningly.
“Mr. Daniel Todd!”
“Dan Todd? Huh! I’ve heard of you.”
“Evidently nothing to my credit, Miss ——” It was his turn to question.
“Miss Dorothy Lowe!”
“That explains everything,” he grimly observed. “I’ve battled with you
by proxy.”
“Yes, and in the end you were whipped. I am familiar with the details of
the case. By just what authority did you board my log and set me
ashore?”
“By the authority of common sense,” he answered. “But that probably
isn’t sufficient grounds for any Lowe, so I’ll add, by the authority of
a deputy sheriff arresting a fugitive from justice.”
If he expected her to pale, he was disappointed. “I seem to be fated to
have you interfere with my affairs. First, as a member of the Forest
Service, you just about ruined an already wabbly logging and lumber
business. Then, when I was in a fair way to die of exposure, you had to
rescue me; almost undressed me in fact, and the next thing I knew I was
wrapped in blankets, warm and alive. Good thing you left me a chance to
escape.”
“My error,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have given you the chance. You are
wrong in one respect. My actions did not interfere with your logging
operations in the least. I merely enforced regulations for the common
good during the fire season. On the side, it is true I worked toward
conservation, but that is no crime. If your business is wabbly it is
because of poor management and—crookedness.”
She straightened up at that. “Wherein is the crookedness?”
“It is really none of my business,” he answered, “and you won’t thank me
for telling you!”
“I insist. Of course if you are running true to form, as you doubtless
are, and are merely talking because you love to hear your voice and the
pearls of wisdom falling from your lips, then you have nothing of
importance.”
“If your brother would spend less time sporting around and more checking
up on that guardian of yours, you’d know that poor timber is being cut
and number one stuff left standing; that only about fifty per cent of
your cedar logs ever reach market in your name; that—oh, what’s the use
of my talking?
“You’ve got too much chin and are too stubborn to listen to any one you
dislike. Let’s forget it. Why did you kill John Day Burke? You don’t
have to answer that question unless you wish. Anything you say may be
used against you. I believe, substantially, that’s the usual statement
the arresting officer makes.”
“Then you are not accustomed to making arrests?”
“No! I was forced into service because of my knowledge of the region.
I’m on my way to California for a vacation I’ve been trying to take for
five years.”
“You’ve plenty of time for it now,” she pointedly observed. “Well, what
next?”
“You don’t choose to answer my question about the murder.”
“Don’t use that word, it makes me shudder. Why did I kill him? There are
times when it is necessary.”
* * * * *
That was the Lowe of it, he decided. It had been necessary and that was
sufficient. No regrets whatever. What a cool little customer she was.
Nothing to admire, and yet— He softly cursed himself. “I was hoping you
would deny it,” he said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. God knows we have nothing in common. In environment,
training and desires you are an ornament. I’m what some term an
impractical fool with an ideal. That’s beside the point, however, I’ve
wanted to help you ever since I picked up a sodden, crushed figure and
wrapped it in warm blankets.” A trace of humor flashed into his eyes.
“It’s the mother instinct, I guess.”
“Thank Heaven,” she cried, “you’ve a sense of humor. Really I don’t
believe you are entirely hopeless.” Immediately she grew serious. “I
wonder just how strong you would go for me. I need help. Of course you
are dumb, at times, Mr. Todd, but you are honest. Every one admits it.
In a word, you are a man who means well!”
“No greater indictment can be returned,” he retorted.
“I won’t hang for the killing of Mr. Burke, but I am afraid I’ll have to
serve a prison term, if I’m not acquitted on the grounds of
self-defense. Suppose I turn over my timber affairs to you. It can’t
lose much more than it is now losing; my brother is not practical, but I
won’t permit any one else to say it. At least,” and her voice grew a
trifle contemptuous, “you’ll conserve my holdings. Will you accept?”
“But your guardian—”
“My guardian was John Day Burke. I became of age two days ago. I can,
legally, appoint a manager if I see fit.”
“I’ll accept, providing I have a free hand for one year. If I fail to
show a profit it won’t cost you a cent.”
“I’m not asking for a profit. I’m asking to break even.” She extended
her hand. “If my offer is accepted, shake on it!”
They shook hands, then, by way of warning, she added: “Understand I am
not in sympathy with your ideals, and as a type of manhood you make me
sick, but it’s a tough old world for those not watching their own
affairs, and I am going to be where I can’t.” Half to herself she added,
as though deriving strength and courage from the thought: “It’s a
sacrifice, but it’s worth it.”
A soft light came into her eyes, lingered and was gone, replaced by the
businesslike harshness of a few moments before. “And so,” she concluded
as if she had not stopped, “I am picking the one honest man I
know—impractical as he may be.”
He stood up. “We may as well start back. You ride Chinook; I’ll walk
along behind.”
“Why did you call him Chinook?”
“He’s warm and friendly; a friend brought him to me from the South on a
cold night. You know the legend of the Chinook Wind, it always comes at
night, is warm and friendly—even though it does melt the snow and floods
the lower country.”
“Chinook,” she mused, “warm, friendly, and it comes in the night when it
is cold.” By a quick intake of breath she hinted at the emotion aroused
within her breast. “And Dan Todd, warm and friendly, came in the night.
And how cold I was.”
CHAPTER III.
DAN TODD TESTIFIES.
A small, wooden courthouse, a traveling judge elected by the district, a
jury of grim citizens and a packed court room marked Dorothy Lowe’s
trial. The air was heavy with the odor of clothing in which men worked
hard and perspired; the steam radiator clanked frequently and without
cause; the prosecuting attorney did not relish his task, but stuck to
it.
At no time had Dorothy Lowe been in jail. The charge, manslaughter,
permitted bail. This had been immediately supplied by Sim Ludwig, whose
timber holdings adjoined the Lowes. The best attorney in the State had
been employed by the defense. He insisted on a plea of not guilty, and
this in spite of the fact the girl had admitted to Dan Todd and others
that she had shot in self-defense.
While the Lowes and Ludwigs were cordially disliked because of
unfairness toward their employees, the dead man’s standing was such that
sympathy swung toward the girl. John Day Burke’s various deals had made
him wealthy in money, poor in friends.
The girl had told her story briefly.
“Mr. Burke, the guardian of my brother and myself, invited us to a
dinner at Mr. Ludwig’s lodge. It was to be more or less formal and we
were to receive a report of his administration of our affairs. There
were angry words between all of us over certain items. He resented our
doubts, and one thing led to another.
“My brother and I decided to leave. It was raining and we hurried to our
car, which was parked on the skid road. He forgot something and started
back. I was afraid the quarrel might be renewed and followed. In some
manner I became lost and Mr. Todd found me. That is all.”
“Miss Lowe, did you or did you not return to the cabin at any time after
you left it?”
“I did not return at any time after we left,” she answered.
“I will call Mr. Todd,” the prosecuting attorney announced.
A few moments later Dan Todd was seated in the witness chair wishing he
were dead. He had not heard the testimony, but realized the importance
of his evidence. “Tell the jury what you’ve found.”
Dan told of the golden slipper and the automatic pistol, of his horse
finding the girl, and what followed. The prosecuting attorney grew
tense. “Were there footprints near the body?”
“Yes.”
“Small or large?”
Dan growled inwardly. Damn his persistence. “Small,” he snapped.
“The footprints of a woman with a very small foot?”
“Yes.”
“Damp footprints, as though she had just entered the building?”
“Yes.”
“That is all, Mr. Todd, unless the counsel for the defense wishes to
cross-examine you.”
The defense was given an opportunity just then. From a seat behind the
girl leaped a young man of twenty-one or two. His face was deathly
white, his eyes were blazing like twin coals of fire. His voice was
tense with emotion.
“Lies!” he snarled. “Todd lied! My sister lied! I killed
Burke—self-defense. When Dorothy said she got lost she spoke the truth.
I thought she was safe in the car. I shot him with the automatic pistol
and tossed it into the brush. After that I don’t remember what
happened!”
The court room was silent. The court reporter’s pencil, which had been
flying over the pad, came to an expectant pause. He looked up, tense,
ready to take down anything else.
It was not long in coming. The girl’s emotion came to a violent
outburst. “Bob! Bob!” she cried. “How I love you for that! But you’re
not going to take the blame on your shoulders for my crime!”
She whirled on the jury, silenced her attorney’s protest with a gesture,
and in a voice that was close to a sob said:
“It was Bob who missed the lodge; I found it. Burke had been thinking
over some of our charges. He was afraid—mad at the thought of exposure.
He did not realize what he was doing, but as he came toward me there was
murder in his eyes.
“I shouted for Bob and the answer was the moaning of the wind in the
timber, the patter of rain on the roof. I struck out with my fists; then
as he caught my wrists and pinned my hands to my sides, I felt my little
automatic pistol in my coat pocket. I jerked away and—then—” She sobbed.
“Oh—I can’t tell it, but—I’m guilty! I’m guilty!”
Bob Lowe roughly shoved his sister aside. He leveled a slim, well-kept
finger at the jury. “Are you going to believe that? She’s the finest
sister in the world. I know you hate me because I’ve wasted my time,
drank and been worthless, but—I’m man enough to take the blame for what
I’ve done. I’m here, before you, pleading guilty!” He turned to the
court. “Guilty, your honor; sentence me!”
The court looked down on Bob Lowe. “Be seated, young man. Your spirit is
commendable, but it is your sister who is on trial. The trial will
proceed.”
The prosecuting attorney, quick to see his advantage, said: “The State
rests!”
“The defense rests,” the girl’s attorney announced. The harm had been
done and could not be undone. He was relying on the present emotional
state of the jury for an acquittal.
The jury retired with the court’s instructions ringing in its several
ears.
* * * * *
Dan Todd approached Dorothy Lowe. “Get out of here!” Bob snarled,
clenching his fists, “you testified against my sister.”
“I told what I was asked to tell and no more,” he retorted, looking at
the girl. “I’ve come to offer my resignation in fairness to both of us.”
“Why?” she inquired. A strange girl indeed, always doing the unexpected.
“I testified against you,” he answered.
“You were under oath; you are honest. What else could you do? Go ahead
and keep the camp and mill running. I’m satisfied.”
“I’m not,” Bob cut in. “We don’t need him. Sim Ludwig will help us.”
Ludwig nodded. “Always at your service, Dorothy. What you are paying him
for I can do in fifteen minutes each day. I’ll do it gratis, too, so
that the timber country may be rid of such an obstructionist.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ludwig. I’m bound by a year’s agreement. Besides, you
are taking it for granted I am acquitted.”
“You will be in a short time,” Dan said quietly.
Every one present looked sharply at the big forester. There was
something in his tone to arouse interest. “Why?” the girl demanded
frankly.
“Because neither the jury nor any one else believes you killed Burke. I
don’t. Never have!”
“But I did!” she cried, on the verge of a panic. “But I did!”
“No, you didn’t,” he insisted.
Bob Lowe stood up, threateningly. “You’re saying what we all believe,”
he growled, “but you’re annoying my sister, now get out!”
Dan bowed and withdrew. Denied his chance to resign, which was offered
not through fear, but because he believed the girl would desire his
resignation, Dan was now ready to fight it through to a finish.
And what a fight it would be! Bob Lowe was against him; so was Sim
Ludwig who was always against anything and everybody interfering with
his affairs. And Dorothy Lowe? In a way she was against him, but she
desired an honest man in charge of her interests and to that extent she
was for him. A month had passed since he had taken hold and the books
were showing a profit. What was more, a hundred per cent of the cedar
cut reached the Lowe booms in the bay. And that was something that had
not happened for several years.
He wondered why he was doing it. It wasn’t his fight, he was out of the
service. Yet at heart he knew he would never be out of the Forest
Service. His name might not be on the records, but in spirit he would
always be fighting for green timber.
The situation was a challenge to any red-blooded man. A girl who was out
of sympathy with his ideals, yet who employed him because he was honest
and could show a profit; a powerful lumberman who knew how to crush
opposition; a girl’s brother who was openly hostile.
He had given her a way out, she had refused it, he was glad. His
thoughts were broken by an abrupt rapping on the jury room door.
A bailiff answered. Several minutes elapsed and court was called to
order. How the time drags, each minute an hour. There is so much
senseless red tape. Why can’t the jury foreman look down and tell the
defendant to go home? But no! The foreman must hand the verdict to the
clerk, who hands it to the judge, who reads it to himself and returns it
to the clerk to read. Dorothy Lowe’s soul was in her face as she waited.
The clerk in a singsong voice read:
“We the undersigned jury find Dorothy Lowe not guilty.”
A gasp of relief from the girl; a smile of sympathy from those in the
court room, then the drawn look returned. “And that means,” she
whispered, “they’ll look around for some one else to—try?”
“It means the case is closed,” Ludwig assured her.
“Closed,” added Dan Todd, “until evidence is produced as to the real
criminal.” With this, spoken almost defiantly, he walked from the room.
There was much to be done and he was for doing it while he had the
chance.
CHAPTER IV.
“GET DAN TODD!”
The finest thing that the wives of the loggers, sawmill men, and
shingle-weavers ever said about Dorothy Lowe was her devotion to her
brother. It, in their eyes, amounted to something beautiful. The girl’s
confidence that within Bob Lowe’s shell dwelled a man was supreme.
Privately they knew him to be an arrogant rotter with too much money and
too much education. As for her, she was cold-blooded and a snob, but
they loved each other. That made up for a lot.
There is always an inside story and it was whispered among the women
that “there had been a wild party, Burke had become rough as was his
custom; Bob had killed Burke and Dorothy had taken the blame, knowing
public opinion was so strong against her brother that a jury would
undoubtedly convict him.”
They also discussed Dan Todd. He was popular among them; of them, in
fact. “Only this morning my Bill says to me, says he: ‘Helen, Dan Todd
aims to keep the mill and camp going steady. But to do that he’ll have
to cut in on Sim Ludwig’s business and that means war, so we may have
work and we may not a month from now.’ That was my Bill’s very words.”
She sighed. “Oh, well, if we only get some of the back bills paid up
I’ll not complain!”
Helen’s “Bill” had undoubtedly called the turn. Dan Todd had gone into
the market and bid low on several big jobs before Ludwig realized what
it was all about. His office manager was the first to present figures.
“And, sir, it came at a bad time. Todd’s profit will be low, but he’ll
keep his crew together and that’s what he wants. It means we’ll have to
shut down. The situation is just the reverse of what it was when Mr.
Burke was managing things. Then it was their mill and camp that ran
short time.”
Ludwig glanced at the figures and frowned. An empire of timber was
almost in his grasp three months previous, then the Lowe children had to
celebrate their twenty-first birthday. Burke would listen to reason and
thus enable Ludwig to dominate the market. What with his spruce and fir
and the Lowe’s cedar he could talk business with any of them—few such
stands of timber left so close to tidewater.
He jammed on his hat and stalking down to the railroad track ordered out
a speeder. A few minutes later he was chugging into the timber at a
brisk rate. Slowing down and finally coming to a stop Ludwig hurried
down a narrow path and stopped at a cabin almost hidden among the trees.
A half mile away ran the Forest Service trail, following the line
between the Ludwig and Lowe holdings. The occupant of the cabin was in a
position to watch the trail and river.
Ludwig did not enter the cabin, but stood a safe distance away and
yelled. On the porch, enjoying the sun, lay a full-grown cougar. The cat
seemed harmless enough, but Ludwig was taking no chances. Presently the
door opened. A man bulking large and dark filled the doorway.
Recognizing his visitor his attitude changed from sneering contempt to
an almost fawning manner. He grinned, caught the cougar by a collar and
dragged it to a cage. “Hello, Mr. Ludwig!”
“Hello, Yates! They’re opening bids in Seattle next week for nearly five
hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cedar lumber. It’s going to Japan.
Have we got that much floating around Black Lake?”
“No.” He grinned. “Give me time and I can get it.”
“Don’t be so sure. Have you considered Todd?”
“Sure!”
“Figure out some way of getting him, Yates. He’s popular among the
rabble so it’ll have to be done in a natural way. A fall over a cliff
or—”
Yates shook his head. “They might find the tracks of the man that pushed
him over. That’s no way to get rid of a popular man. How much time have
I got?”
“I don’t want that cedar bid to go in,” Ludwig answered, “you’ve got
until next Tuesday night!”
Yates looked at the cougar. “Did you ever hear tell of a man walking
along a trail and a hungry cougar dropped on him? No? Well, it’s liable
to happen any day if a cougar is hungry enough.”
“I thought cougars were afraid of men?”
“I know of one that ain’t.”
* * * * *
The whine of a saw eating its way into a log to the accompaniment of the
“Pouf! Pouf! Pouf!” of the steam engine is sweet music to a lumberman.
Steam was pluming up from the exhaust; the air being crisp it lingered.
The dread expression in the men’s eyes had gone, Dan Todd noticed. He
rubbed his hands. “Lord, I wish it were mine!” he exclaimed.
“And if it were?”
The voice came directly behind him. He flushed and turned. “Good
morning, Miss Lowe!”
“And if all this were yours?” she repeated. “What would you do with it?”
“Just as I am doing,” he answered.
“And that is what I want you to do. The men seem contented.”
“They are, but don’t forget the women who have a heck of a time trying
to make ends meet when work is not steady. I’ve told them if we can get
the business we’ll keep things going.”
“And you a conservationist?” she suggested.
“Timber was made to cut,” he replied. “My quarrel is with those who will
do nothing toward reseeding the cut-over areas.”
They watched a log move slowly down the pond as the boom man’s pike pole
forced it from the others. A steel conveyor moving under water, caught
the end and started it upward. After that the timber knew no idle
moment.
A man moved levers and a nigger with hands of steel picked it up and
slammed it about as though it were a toothpick. He was the head sawyer,
who can make or break a lumberman when the margin of profits is narrow.
The log rushed forward and a whining band saw ate off a slab. Back it
came again and the next slice was a board. Again and again it was
repeated. Conveyors hurried the log, now lumber, away. Thus in six
minutes’ time a log that had taken six hundred years to grow was cut up.
The girl and man watched the process in silence. They had learned what
many learn—that many are not as bad as they are painted. She had
regarded him as an impractical dreamer, but honest. She needed honesty.
In turn he had regarded her as a spoiled little snob, beautiful but
dumb.
Time had proved each wrong. She turned impulsively to him. “Mr. Todd,
I’m sorry for some of the things I said when we first met.”
“All is forgiven,” he said, smiling. “In turn I’m sorry for some of the
things I thought, but did not express.”
“Others are not so considerate,” she said seriously.
“Meaning?”
“People in town! They sneer behind my back and I know what they are
saying. ‘Little killer!’”
“But you didn’t kill him.”
“I said I did. Do you doubt my word, Mr. Todd?”
“Yes, I do, but only in that matter. I’ve my own conclusions and I am
working on the case. When I find the guilty party—”
“Please don’t!” she pleaded.
“I can’t do otherwise,” he insisted. “In any event it will be
self-defense and not difficult to prove.”
Abruptly she changed the subject. “I was warned to-day not to bid on
that Japanese contract. I was told it will be difficult to collect!”
“The terms are cash, f. o. b. ship’s tackle. That means when the stuff
is on the dock ready for the steamer we’ll be paid. We can’t lose. If we
don’t bid, this will have to stop.”
With a wave of his hand he indicated the activity. In the distance a
woman was hanging out a row of kiddies’ clothing. They could not hear
her, but she was singing. “And when this stops she’ll be too busy
worrying to sing.”
“That is all I wanted to know. This is the first time in years this mill
has showed a good profit and I can’t understand it. Everything is
running so nicely—”
“Which is warning for me to watch out. This smooth sailing is resented
in certain quarters. That resentment will take form sooner or later. It
has started already.”
“Yes?”
“That warning against bidding. But I’m going ahead. My bid will be in by
Tuesday night.”
Bob Lowe sauntered into view. He had never forgiven Todd’s testimony
against his sister. “Came down to drive you home, sis,” he announced.
“Ready?” He glanced briefly at the superintendent. “Hello, Todd!”
“Hello,” Dan returned, as brief. He knew an enemy when he saw one.
Brother and sister walked down to the car together. “Ludwig wants to
talk to you, Dorothy. Listen, as a combination our holdings would become
a power in the West. Overhead would be less, profit more. I’m for
listening to him.”
“We’re making a profit now, every one seems contented, and the hate,
yes, Bob, that’s the word, hate, that so many held for us has died down
somewhat. We are regarded as people. I rather like it.” She regarded him
seriously. “I wish you’d go to work in the mill!”
“What, under Todd? Not in a thousand years. Kick Todd out, combine with
Ludwig and I’ll put on overalls and work my head off.”
She turned to him quickly. “Will you?” she asked. “I’d do most anything
if you would!”
“You’ve done a lot for me already.”
“Yes,” she said softly, her face paling, “I’ve done a lot.”
“And I’d do as much for you. Will you consider a combine?”
“Yes, Bob, I will.”
Later, when Ludwig helped the girl into his car, Bob Lowe smiled softly.
“They look great!” he cried. “There’s a real combination. Damn that
fellow Todd.” He spoke now between set teeth. “He’s influencing sis in
some way. Damn him! She was never influenced before. Still, maybe after
all she’s stringing him along. Yes, that’s it, she’s stringing him
along. When he’s working for her he’s not raising the deuce.”
* * * * *
A gravel road, trees on either side, whose tops met; glimpses of blue
water and snow-capped peaks—Puget Sound after a winter’s rain. The car
moved leisurely. Ludwig finally spoke: “Bidding on the big job? If it’s
not a fair question, don’t answer it. I try to be fair.”
“I know you do, Sim! Yes, we are bidding. Is it wise?”
“Unless you go too low, then it’s disaster. They’re requiring a hundred
thousand dollar bond to insure performance. Why not a combine? We could
get a good price. Now it will be competition.”
He eyed her narrowly, guessed her thoughts and continued. “It would be
great for Bob. He’s for it. The lad has the stuff if it’s developed. I
can do it. He’s reached the turning point in his career. And, he’s not
happy with Todd running things. Combine? Can’t we make it more than a
combine, Dorothy? I’ve loved you for two years now; ever since you
returned from school—grown up.”
He slipped his arm about her. “I love you, Dorothy,” he repeated.
“I’ve always admired you,” she answered, “but as to love—I’m afraid not,
Sim.”
“You are going to love me,” he insisted, “together we’re going to work
for Bob’s betterment. And then—you’ll give me that chance.”
“Yes, to help Bob. As to a combination, that requires thought. You must
prove to me and to Dan Todd that it will be worth while.”
He snorted in disgust. “That damn fool! I couldn’t prove white was white
to him. But if you want business statistics, I’ll give them to you. If I
can’t show a larger margin of profit than he can I’ll quit the lumber
business and make him president of my company. Read this when you have
time. Every cent made right here at the home mill.”
He drove on to where the road turned off and a sign warned:
BEWARE—LOGGING TRUCKS!
Trucks bearing great logs were moving over a timber roadway, consisting
of a sort of planked track, each a little wider than the wheel. It was
cheaper than steel rails and a truck could go up steeper grades. “One
way of lessening the overhead,” he pointed out. There were others, too.
No doubt of it, Sim Ludwig knew the lumber business. She was impressed,
and he was satisfied with the day’s drive when he dropped her off at
home.
Dan Todd was waiting for her with a weekly report. She glanced at the
figures, then, somewhat timidly, he thought, suggested the combination.
He listened attentively. “Combinations are good or bad, depending on the
parties. Did he give facts and figures?”
“Yes!” she handed him the report. He studied it with interest. “Better
showing than I can make,” he admitted. Presently he whistled. “Where’d
he get all the cedar?”
“Off his land, I suppose. He has a nice stand of cedar on that flat!”
Todd changed the subject somewhat. “Before you combine there are some
things you should know. In some respects Ludwig’s cedar output reminds
me of the widow’s cruse of oil. Some day in the near future we’ll look
at the cruse. Understand, you are to do whatever you think best. I am
always willing to step out, though you employed me for a year.”
Again she left him with the impression he knew more than he was
disclosing. Beyond doubt Ludwig and Todd were bitter enemies. Which
should she believe, Ludwig the practical, whom she had known for years,
or Todd the dreamer, commanding, handsome, as straight as a fir tree,
whom she had known unfavorably by reputation for two years and
personally for two months?
It was a question she alone must decide. And always in the background
was the desire of her brother. They would do anything for each other and
take the consequences. She decided to do nothing that day, but wait
until she had had a good night’s rest.
Dorothy did not fall asleep immediately. Various phases of the situation
returned again and again to demand solution. What was the secret of Dan
Todd’s influence over her? Was she in love? Impossible. She had loved no
man except her brother. Was it the instinctive sense of womankind that
so often points the right course? Or what? Toward midnight she dropped
off to sleep.
Down at the mill office Dan Todd was laboring over a bid blank. Over an
item he paused. “Maybe I’d better have another look at the Lowe cedar
before I go quite that close on logging costs! Can’t afford to go into
the hole. Still I should know what it will cost without looking.”
CHAPTER V.
COUGARS TALK.
The “getting” of Dan Todd had been delayed too long to suit Ludwig. The
first thing necessary to his submitting a bid was the knowledge his
enemy would not bid. He spoke briefly to Bull Yates who dominated
everybody in Ludwig’s employ but Ludwig.
“You haven’t landed that bird yet, Yates!”
“How can I land him when he’s at the mill all the time? He’s afraid to
stick his nose in the timber.”
“We’ll see,” Ludwig promised. “You be ready to-night to act!”
Five o’clock that evening Ludwig called Dan on the telephone. “This is
Robertson at Camp Five. The line’s down and I had to come down the trail
a mile to telephone. You’d better come out and decide whether to build
that skidroad up the draw, which is pretty soft, or go to the expense of
building a bridge across. Can you come up to-night?”
“No, I’m afraid not, Robertson.”
“Then I’d better lay off the crew. There’s nothing for them to do.”
That brought Todd to time. He dreaded the breaking up of any crew that
worked well together. “I’ll make it some way,” he promised, “don’t know
what time I’ll get there, but to-night, sure.”
Then just to be sure Todd did not phone back and check up, Ludwig cut
the line he had tapped.
It started to drizzle late that afternoon. Night found the wind roaring
from the northeast, the shore line lashed white with surf, and a
snowstorm raging in the mountains. Loggers were praying it would not
extend down to the camps and cause a suspension of operations.
The storm increased and creatures of claw and fang that preyed at night
slunk from cover to cover and found the pickings poor indeed. Here and
there they scented out huddled creatures of the day and made their kill.
Bull Yates moved through the timber almost as silently as the cougar at
his side. Presently he stopped above a deer run, found the wind to his
advantage and with a quick, upward flirt of a whip ordered the cat to
the overhanging limb of a tree. A chain was fastened to a spiked collar
about the cougar’s neck. The spikes turned inward and made it possible
for the man to control the cat, which, being no fool, soon learned that
absolute stillness was the way to avoid pain.
An hour passed and then, without sound, a two-point buck bounded into
the run. Coming with the wind he did not scent the cat. His main thought
was a protected thicket just ahead in which he could avoid the force of
the storm. The cougar grew tense with excitement. Murder without
warning; escape without leaving a clew was the code of this pair. The
man’s instincts were as deeply aroused as the cat’s.
With the silence of ashes falling from a cigar, the great cat dropped.
Its timing was perfect. The impact snapped the buck’s spine and crushed
him to the wet trail. A single bawl of fright, then silence, save for
the moaning of the storm in the tree tops; the snarls of the cat and the
laughter of the man.
Yates slowly pulled the chain and drew the cat from its kill. “No
venison steaks to-night,” he said softly; “that buck’s for me. It was
just to get you worked up. You’ll eat horse meat if you’re lucky.”
He dragged the snarling cat a half mile down to the main trail, then,
walking in water to conceal his own footprints, Yates forced the cat to
follow along a bobcat trail paralleling the stream.
At length he stopped; tossed a line over a limb and climbed up hand over
hand. Spilling several drops of catnip oil on the limb, so that it would
work into the cracks of the bark, he slid down the rope, removed it,
unsnapped the collar and with a crack of the whip ordered the cat up the
tree.
Training told. Never did he send the cat up without rewarding it with
catnip. The cougar knew. He scrambled up the tree and the man, his
timing as perfect as the cat’s had been a moment before, listened and
heard the click of a horse’s hoof against stone. Yates worked his way
upstream, wading at times waist deep, heedless of the icy water. But
frequently he stopped to listen intently.
* * * * *
On the limb, licking the catnip, the cougar suddenly froze. The
blood-lust was running its course unchecked. Aroused by the buck
episode, denied its kill, it was in a dangerous mood when the catnip
quieted it somewhat. But within the cat’s veins the blood ran hot.
The oncoming scent the cougar instantly identified. Man and horse! It
was afraid of the man and might have retreated, but caution gave way to
blood-lust. It waited, tense, a creature of claws, knotted muscles and
blazing eyes. It gathered itself and sprang. The man, not the horse, saw
the danger almost as the cougar jumped. He screamed in the horse’s ear,
drove his spurs into his flanks and at the same moment swung him around.
The cat’s paw scraped Chinook’s fore leg, slightly drawing blood. The
horse reared so far backwards, Todd slid from the saddle. The next
instant, with a scream that chilled the man’s blood, the horse was
fighting off the cat.
Failure had stripped the cougar of much of its confidence. The man-fear
returned in a measure. It slunk into the brush, while in a panic the
horse galloped down the trail.
“Close shave!” muttered Todd. “Now I wonder—” He played his flashlight
about. “I’ve heard Bull Yates trained his cat to bring him down deer out
of season. Why not a man—” But his experienced eye saw not the slightest
sign of human tracks.
Afoot! Todd swore. Robertson and his crew would have to wait a day. No
need of going ahead. It was quicker to go back and there was always the
chance he might catch Chinook. This he did not rely on too much. The
horse was in a panic. It might run until it killed itself. Unpleasant
thought, for man and animal had gone through a lot together.
Every foot of the trail was familiar to Dan Todd, and it made little
difference whether it was dark or light. He walked instinctively around,
over, or under obstacles and reflected on the future.
A glow stole through him as he thought of Dorothy Lowe. It was not her
beauty that impressed him so much as her amazing loyalty. What was hers
she fought for. A girl after his own heart, and he had never expected to
find her in that stratum of life.
And how she was fighting for her brother. No sacrifice too great. “In
turn, that’s the only decent thing in Bob,” he mused, then he began
thinking of the business. If they did submit the low bid the future was
anything but clear. It spelled defeat for Ludwig, and the fight would
really begin.
Failure to complete the job would mean ruin for the Lowes. Ludwig would
see that the job was never completed, if possible. All this would happen
under cover. In the open he would be the fair-square rival in love with
Dorothy. That was the way he worked.
The same warning instinct, so highly developed in those who spend their
lives in the wilderness, that caused him to “feel” the cougar’s
presence, again spoke. The drip of rain, the rush of air through the top
sounded like water; the roar of the real water of the stream blended and
drowned ordinary sounds, but instinct cannot be silenced by noise. He
grew tense instantly and looked from right to left without turning his
head.
Even the best generals agree the best defense is an offense. A crouching
figure behind a trunk took form and on the theory no well-wisher of his
would crouch in the darkness, Dan Todd’s fist lashed out suddenly. A man
grunted and dropped, completely surprised.
Todd whirled about and backed up to a tree. Three figures magically
appeared. Their plan of action was similar to Todd’s—a fierce offensive.
Dan picked the slighter of the three and knocked him down, thanks to a
long reach. It was a clean knockout, the knuckles of the forester’s big
fist catching the other squarely on the point of the chin. He folded up
like a tent and dropped, face downward.
“I’ve used up all my luck in those two punches,” Dan growled under his
breath, “now for the real fight!”
He left his tree, for the footing was none too good, and began slowly
backing up, blocking what blows he could and dodging the others. As long
as he kept one of his opponents before him, his chances were good. A
flank movement meant instant defeat, for either of these fighters was a
good match for any man.
Twice he caught one of them with all of his strength, and the only
result was a sagging of the knees and an immediate recovery. When the
trail broadened out he sidestepped and began retracing his steps once
more, holding to the narrow part.
Something struck his heel. Then hands gripped his leg. Too late he
realized the second man he had knocked down had regained consciousness
and was intent on tripping him. He shook his boot furiously while
keeping the others back. The man stuck to the leg.
Lunging forward, Dan staggered his nearest opponent with a blow, then
turned and drove his boot into the man beneath him.
“Let go,” he shouted, “or I’ll drive these calks into your chest.”
The answer was the sudden sinking of teeth in the calf of his leg. He
drove his boot downward, the other grunted and let go. The steel calks
had gone through the heavy clothing and left a brand for all time on the
man’s chest. Whenever he stood before a mirror, he would remember this
night’s battle.
Branded though he might be, he was, in a sense, victor. His interference
had given his companions time to close in. Before Dan could turn, a
strong arm closed about his throat. “Get him!” a voice panted in Dan’s
ear. “In the stomach!”
The other closed in, measured the distance and drove his fist into the
pit of the forester’s stomach. Dan Todd dropped as though dead. Two of
them followed him to the ground and began the process of putting him out
of business for some time to come. A third with calk marks on his chest
lay on the ground and wondered; the fourth was still out.
CHAPTER VI.
MISSING.
The mill foreman knocked gently on Dorothy Lowe’s door. “I’m worried,
miss,” he said when the girl answered. “Dan Todd’s missing.”
“Missing? And in the midst of preparing his bid for the big contract? We
were to visit our cedar holdings to-day. Are you sure?”
“His bed wasn’t slept in last night. His horse, scratched up from
bucking the brush, came in with the saddle under him. That horse was in
bad shape, he’d covered a lot of country.”
The girl entered the house and called to her brother: “Get up, Bob;
something has happened to Dan.”
He growled sleepily. “Since when have you been calling him Dan?”
“This is the first time,” she replied, “but I’ve been thinking of him as
Dan for a long time. I’m worried.”
“He’s not worth worrying over. He’ll show up. I’ll be down as quick as I
can dress. Probably he’s off on a bust. You know how these he-men of the
woods are.”
“Nonsense!” she retorted. “Too much important business ahead for to
leave now. I think he may have had an accident!”
He joined her presently and together they made further inquiry at the
mill. The saws were humming, and the “nigger” was dumping huge logs
about as usual, but the men were asking questions.
Uptown they encountered Ludwig. He was carrying a heavy envelope and
just entering the post office. He smiled and tipped his hat, then,
pointing to the envelope: “Wouldn’t you like to know my figures,
Dorothy?”
“No!” she replied, “I am worried about Dan Todd. We haven’t our bid
ready and he hasn’t showed up!”
Ludwig said something conventional, but his mind was obviously on
something else. He eyed the envelope in his hand and then mailed it.
“So the big boy didn’t show up last night, eh?” he observed as they
parted. “Well, don’t worry. He’ll be around in a couple of days. He
doesn’t look on the wine when it is red, but he sure does love to look
on the moon when it’s white—if you get what I mean.”
Perhaps, after all, some such thing had happened. Ludwig was not taking
it seriously. She waited until noon, and then telephoned the logging
camps. The broken wire had been repaired and communication was open. “I
want a thorough search made of every trail,” she directed, “and I plan
to look about myself.”
“I’ll help you, sis,” Bob offered. “You’re worried, and that’s the
reason I’m lending a hand.”
Men worked back and forth through the woods without result. Ludwig
telephoned over that he was sending some of his men to aid. “You’d do as
much for me, Dorothy. I think we’ll find him holed up in some cabin,
lit!”
“Thanks, Sim!”
It was dusk when the girl started back from her second quest that day.
Strange, how important a man can become to an organization! She had
thought some of a combine and with Todd gone it seemed the only open
course. “And yet—” she said aloud.
“And yet?” answered a voice. She started nervously, then laughed. The
voice had come from a cliff—the echo of her own. The trail thickened and
she grew somewhat worried. Perhaps she was lost.
A few yards beyond, a snag had been cleanly cut off with an ax. She
recalled it now. Dan had cut that so she could crawl under without
tearing her clothing. She was on the short cut. Abruptly she looked down
and a strange chill swept through her. There were bloodstains under the
log. Some one, bleeding, had crawled under it recently. In a panic she
hurried down the trail.
There he lay in a clump of brush, a sodden giant in torn clothing and
battered face. “Dan!” she cried. “Oh, Dan!”
He did not answer. She whipped out an automatic pistol and fired the
agreed signal. Three shots, to be answered by two.
The reports seemed to have penetrated his senses. Slowly he opened his
eyes. “Dorothy,” he whispered.
“Yes, Dan!”
“God! Don’t touch me. I hurt all over!” A chill ran through his frame.
“Fire!” he muttered, “find dry stump. Wood inside!”
She searched and presently returned with an armful of dry cedar. Again
she fired the automatic and listened. There was no answer save the echo
following along the mountain range. The fire blazed up presently and she
added more fuel. “What happened, Dan?”
“Four men jumped me and I came out second best. Near as I can figure
they knocked me out, beat me up, then heaved the remains into the river.
Cold water revived me. I have been conscious and unconscious ever since.
Trying to get to the Maple Creek cabin. It’s a ways down the trail.”
He lay close to the fire, enjoying its warmth. She was furious. “Who
were they?”
“They were masked. I left a private mark on some of them. Will settle
later.”
“Masked, eh? The cowards! Four against one. Why did they do it?”
“I’m in the way,” he answered quietly. “Let’s see, what day is this? Oh,
yes, bids are opened to-morrow.” He closed his eyes and rested. So close
was he to the borderline of utter exhaustion the effort of a few words
left him flat.
“Once,” she presently observed, “I used your dry clothes, but you can’t
use mine! If I only dare leave you long enough to get help.”
“Don’t! I’ll be all to the good in a day or so. Now I want—rest!” He
dropped off to sleep instantly. She let the fire die down somewhat,
shifting it along so his clothes would dry out. Moving him was
impossible. Except for the eyes, he was in fair condition about the
face. Most of the beating had been around the body, where injuries are
likely to be permanent. Not murder, but total disablement had been the
motive of the attack.
Nor was he free from his enemies even in sleep. Frequently Dan muttered
threats, and once he leaped to his knees and began to strike out with
his fists. She gently forced him back, and her touch seemed to quiet
him.
She reloaded the weapon and made ready to fire when he awakened. In the
meantime there was nothing she could do but keep the fire going—and
think. The hints she had heard that any warfare in the timber country
would be nasty were borne out. Masked men, brutal beatings, four against
one. But there was no thought of quitting in Dan’s mind. It would be
cruel to tell him it was too late to submit their bid. She would not
have to tell him—he would remember.
There in the darkness, with strange shadows dancing against the dark
trunks of the trees she hovered over him, as, no doubt, some ancestor
hovered over her beaten champion in a darker age when men fought with
clubs. Just then the finishing school and silk clothing seemed far
removed from Dorothy Lowe.
* * * * *
“Sis! Oh, sis!” Dorothy awakened with a start. The bruised giant still
slept; the fire had burned low. She listened, then heaped on fuel. The
fire blazed.
“Sis! Thank God!”
“Where are you, Bob?”
“Down here. I’ve been about crazy. Thought I saw a light up there, but
couldn’t tell until you put on more wood.” Bob Lowe came from the
shadows of the bank below. “Oh! So you’ve found him!”
“Yes! Cowards! They masked themselves, then tried to break him. I mean
just that, Bob. Whoever they were, they did not want to beat him, they
wanted to break him up. He may never be the same again. And you thought
he might be drunk.” Her voice, indignant, rose high.
Dan Todd stirred. “Oh, Dorothy! H-mm!” He blinked his eyes, then
groaned. “Hello, Bob. I’m stiff!” The flames made his eyes deep with
mystery and at times they seemed to burn with a sort of flame as he
looked up at brother and sister. “Bob, more wood! Get some heavy stuff
that’ll burn slow!”
As the youth moved away Todd called the girl. “Little stream down the
trail. Will you get me a drink? Knock in the top of my hat and bring it
in that. Take the flashlight. Thanks!”
Bob Lowe returned first and dropped his burden on the fire. “Anything
else?”
Todd hesitated. “Yes, unbutton the top button of my shirt. It’s choking
me.”
As Lowe kneeled to comply, Todd’s eyes blazed. His hand shot up, and,
though it cost him great agony, he did not falter. Fingers, swollen and
bruised, caught the younger man’s collar. There was a rip of fabric, and
Bob Lowe’s chest was exposed. In a half dozen places the tanned flesh
was punctured by calk marks. Neither man spoke. A few yards down the
trail came Dorothy Lowe with water.
CHAPTER VII.
LOW BID.
In the office of a Seattle lawyer three well-dressed and quiet Japanese
gentlemen watched the clock. At last one of them spoke. “The time has
expired. We will open the bids?”
Ludwig, showing the effects of a hard all night ride, shifted his feet
nervously. “How many bids, gentlemen?”
“Two!”
Ludwig was puzzled. He had good reason to believe his was the only bid.
As luck would have it, his was read first.
“At the estimated quantities and grades,” the lawyer droned, “the Ludwig
people bid four hundred and ninety thousand dollars.
“The second bid,” the lawyer continued, “is that of the Lowe Lumber
Company.”
Ludwig gasped and looked sharply at his companion, Buck Yates, who for
the occasion had left his cougar home, but wore a gun in a shoulder
holster. “Wonder how that got in?”
The lawyer was speaking. “At the estimated quantities and grades, the
Lowe people bid four hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars even.”
Ludwig stood up. “Is there a certified check with that bid, as
required?”
“There is! Is any representative of the Lowe Company present? No!
Peculiar. Oh, well, we will notify them by telephone.”
“In case the Lowe people are unable to carry out the contract at any
time,” he informed the Japanese, “we stand ready to fill any portion of
the order at our bid price.”
The Japanese thanked him, and one of them, in perfect English, added:
“We will take advantage of your generous offer, sir, should occasion
arise!” They bowed, indicating that Ludwig might withdraw.
Outside of the building Ludwig turned to Yates: “When do you suppose
that bid went in? I know for a fact he was figuring on it two days ago.
He was working on it the night we sent in that fake call from Robertson.
I can’t figure it, unless—say! I get it now. He put in the lowest bid he
dared, then figured to check up again and, if possible, put in a
supplementary and lower bid. You heard what the Jap said?”
“Yes, they’d fall back on us if Lowes failed to make good,” Yates
answered.
An interruption came in the form of one of Ludwig’s friends. “Why so
glum? Been accused of murder? Or is it a toothache?”
“Came out second best on a five hundred thousand dollar deal,” Ludwig
retorted.
“Too bad. Say, speaking of murder. That was a pretty girl that bumped
off Burke. Know her?”
“Very well!”
“And she really did it?”
“Undoubtedly,” Ludwig agreed. “Why?”
“Then she’s a cold little devil. Her conscience isn’t bothering her,
from what I hear. Somehow I figured it different.”
“In what way?” Ludwig was deeply interested.
“I’m probably barking up a tree, but I figure the brother turned the
trick and she’s protecting him. That pair’d do anything for each other,
they say.”
“That is one way of looking at it,” Ludwig answered. He waved a
farewell, climbed behind the wheel of his car and started for home. He
thought he had moved fast, but in each instance Dan Todd had moved
faster. “I wonder,” he presently mused, “if Todd’s been found yet?”
“Yes,” mumbled Yates, “I wonder! Say, my cat didn’t miss him far.
There’s a claw furrow on that horse’s leg.”
Ludwig learned a number of things when he had reached home. Dan Todd was
not expected to live. Where was he? Some said he was in the Lowe home,
others claimed he was in a cabin in the woods, in too bad a shape to
move!
Ludwig reached for the telephone, called the Lowe home, but there was no
answer. He changed his clothing and, with Yates, boarded a speeder and
headed for the upper country, where cedars stood as thick as grain.
There was much for him to congratulate himself over. His logging roads
extended within a half mile of the Lowe timber. To reach the big stand
of cedar they must either rent his roads, which he would not do; use
Black Lake and the river, which he could stop because it was not
navigable water and a portion of it ran entirely through his place, or,
and this was the only course—build a road to the timber, which would eat
up the profits.
Try as he would, he could see no outlet for his rival—except the
combine. And this he was now in a position to enforce. With a rush it
came over him Todd had played into his hands without realizing it. But,
in the end, if the forester did have something up his sleeve, it was
still in Ludwig’s power to break the Lowe Timber Company.
Ludwig returned to Black Lake. Its surface was dotted with fine cedar
logs—hundreds of them. On a moment’s notice he could start those logs to
his mill and have a steady stream of lumber pouring into the hold of
some vessel flying the flag of the rising sun.
In a pleasant frame of mind he returned home. Again he called Dorothy
Lowe’s residence; again there was no answer. It was queer, he thought.
* * * * *
For several moments after Dan Todd had torn Bob Lowe’s shirt open and
disclosed the marks of his calks, neither man spoke. Dan was too
exhausted from the effort, Bob too dumbfounded at the unexpected
exposure. Finally he spoke. “Don’t tell her, Todd. I know what she
thinks.”
“Why shouldn’t I tell her?”
“For her sake you shouldn’t!”
“Something in that. Well, for the first time in my life my silence can
be bought. It’ll cost you plenty. Will you pay it?”
“To the limit. Shh! Here she comes!”
Dorothy made a brim in the top of the hat and Todd drank after a
fashion. The water was cold and pure, fresh from the snowfields above.
It gave him new life. Yet when he stirred it was agony. A doctor would
have tugged away at his jaw and said, “Internal injuries. The outcome
will be in doubt for several days.”
“What shall we do, Dan?” The girl regarded him with a worried look. She
had seen the gray come to his face when he moved unexpectedly.
“Get me down to the Maple Creek cabin,” he said. “Cut a couple of poles,
make a stretcher, let one end drag and pull the other—Indian fashion. I
can stand it!”
Bob Lowe, frantic to please now that Todd had identified him as one of
his assailants, worked with a will. The completed job was somewhat
crude, but it served the purpose. Dorothy led the way with the
flashlight, Bob dragged the stretcher. There was no pain after the first
jolt, for Dan Todd had fainted.
When he regained consciousness the girl was hovering over him and there
was a soft bunk beneath his battered body. But there was a strange
sensation, or perhaps lack of it, that worried him. His legs seemed half
dead, half alive.
While Lowe built a fire his sister started for the creek for water.
Again they were alone. “Where’s Dorothy?” Dan inquired.
“Gone for water!”
“Then we’re alone!”
“Yes!” Bob Lowe acted like a man before a judge for sentence. “What do
you want to keep still?” He shifted uneasily. “I’ll pay anything within
reason to keep her from knowing I had a hand in this.”
“Who was with you?”
“I won’t tell!”
“That’s something in your favor. I hate a squealer. You don’t need to
tell. I left a mark on most of ’em. How strong will you go, Lowe?”
“Five thousand dollars! That’s my limit. Take it or leave it!”
“I’ll leave it,” Dan answered. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Bob, about
men and life. Here’s my price. Put on a pair of overalls and go to work.
Learn the logging and lumber game from the ground up. Then you won’t
have to rely on me, or combine with Ludwig. You can stand on your own
hind legs.”
“I think the merger with Ludwig is the thing,” Bob growled. “To get that
cedar we’ll have to build roads. Working with Ludwig will make that
unnecessary.
“She’ll be here in a minute. I’ll pay your price; but remember, I have
never liked you and never will. Any time I can get rid of you I’ll do
so. I’m ashamed of the beating up, hiding behind a mask. I didn’t know
they were going as strong. Anyway, I didn’t have a chance to do much;
you put me out early in the fight. Now we understand each other.
Enemies—open enemies.”
“Yes. You’re my open enemy, Bob. I’m your friend as long as you’ll hit
the ball.”
And then Dorothy entered. “I’m going to town,” she informed them.
“Not at this time of night,” Todd protested.
“With the flashlight I can find my way. You need a doctor. Bob can take
care of you. You’ll have to be moved around some and he’s stronger. I
think you should have a warm bath, any way.”
As was usual when she took a stand, Dorothy Lowe had her way. A half
hour later Bob was bathing the bruised body he had had a part in
creating. Here were toe marks caused by the impact of heavy boots, there
the marks of naked fists. The primitive fights of the camps are not
pleasant. On the spine was a blue, hard lump that gave him a start. It
suggested a fracture. He wondered how long before the doctor could get
there. What would he say; what action would the sheriff take?
While Bob worked and worried, his sister hurried through the timbered
valley that was hers. She was afraid—afraid of the very silence and the
soft rustlings of furred creatures slinking about their nocturnal
affairs.
Well toward morning she left the timber behind and looked down on the
little lumber settlement. In the distance a lighted house twinkled. The
whine of saws came from her own mill. Dan Todd had created enough
business to run a part-time night shift.
He was talking of planting trees in cut-over land. He said she would
take another profit in her lifetime from the land. This would come from
second-growth timber cut from the land for ship and yacht masts,
telephone poles, piling and bridge timbers.
She called the doctor on the nearest telephone, sent him on his way,
then returned home for a brief rest. In the morning she planned to
return and care for Dan Todd. He had been hurt in her fight.
Investigations would be in order too.
As she was just reaching for the light switch the telephone rang. She
answered it; it was Ludwig. “Sorry to call you this time of the night,
Dorothy, but I’ve been worried. I saw a light in your window.”
“Mr. Todd’s been found, beaten nearly to death by a gang of cowards.”
She breathed rapidly at the thought. “I’ve sent the doctor out and Bob
is caring for him.”
“Not serious?”
“Very serious. He doesn’t realize it, but I think he is paralyzed from
the waist down.”
“Too bad! Too bad! Of course, I’ve always held he was an impractical
obstructionist, but I don’t like this rough stuff. Now for something
more cheerful to you, Dorothy. My congratulations on winning the big
contract.”
“What! We didn’t have our bid in, did we?”
“Very much so. You are low, with a fair chance of breaking even if you
build a road to your timber, and a nice profit if you care to merge with
us. But more of that later. Think it over. Good night, dear!”
“Good night, Sim!”
CHAPTER VIII.
UNDER CONTRACT.
During the next two weeks several amazing things happened. Bob Lowe went
to work! He did not make a pretense of it, but shed his fine clothes,
donned overalls, and got slivers in his fingers.
“I can’t get over it,” Dorothy exclaimed. She was in the rôle of nurse;
Dan Todd was the patient. “Some influence for good must be working on
Bob. I didn’t expect him to begin right down at bedrock, but I am very
happy over it.”
“Maybe he’s in love,” Todd suggested, enjoying an inward laugh.
“He might be,” the girl admitted. Dan Todd knew that the youth was in
love—with his sister.
The contracts came, the bond insuring performance was signed, and still
Dan lay helpless in the Maple Creek cabin.
The girl was worried, partly because of his condition, and partly
because it was time cedar logs were pouring into the mill. In the offing
Ludwig waited, reminding her of the advantages of a merger. Another
week, then: “Feeling any better, Dan?”
“About the same. Why? Worried?”
“Yes, about you and about the business.”
“Quit worrying about me,” he replied; “I’ve a hunch I’m going to feel
better when the weather changes.” His face became somewhat mysterious.
“It’s been pretty cold. I think if we had warmer weather—say, a
chinook—it’d make a great change in me. A chinook is due.”
“It is late!”
“Dan, I’ve decided on a merger—on my own terms. It includes a permanent
position for you and—”
“Forget me,” he said. “I wouldn’t care to join the new layout. I
wouldn’t be needed in Ludwig’s scheme of things. And, besides, I would
be fighting you, through him.”
“You’ve fought me in the past!”
“No, merely your representative, who was Burke. You—are different. I’m
glad I found it out. So, Dorothy, I don’t want to fight you. But I will
if conservation is involved. One thing, before you agree to combine with
Ludwig, give me a chance to explain some things—give me twenty-four
hours.”
Again came the impression he was keeping something from her.
She saw Ludwig that afternoon and agreed to consider his proposition
seriously. He returned home well pleased. “She’s got to come to me,” he
cried when he saw Yates. “They need a pond full of cedar logs, and the
only stuff that’s coming down is what floats down the river. They’ll
have a hell of a time this summer when the water is low. Bull, I’ve as
good as won that girl.”
“If she comes in she’ll bring Todd with her. He’s got a contract.”
“Of course. But Todd’s got self-respect and pride. No man with those
elements will stay with me when I don’t want him to—contract or no
contract.”
That night he called the Japanese firm’s attorney on the telephone. “The
Lowe people haven’t more than thirty cedar logs in their pond right
now,” he informed them, “and no sign of increasing their output. Their
superintendent is flat on his back—paralyzed. We are ready to help you
out. We’ve got the logs. Black Lake is full of ’em.”
The attorney thanked him and the following morning called first Bob Lowe
and finally Dorothy. He talked pleasantly, but at length and firmly. “It
is not that we wish to be hard, but time is an important element, Miss
Lowe, and delay will cost my clients considerable money. In turn they
must charge that cost to you.”
“I understand,” she answered.
With his usual perfect timing Ludwig “happened” to be in sight when
Dorothy came from the office. She was on her way to see Todd, but he
headed that off. “Here’s my proposition, Dorothy, and you’ll notice I’ve
made provision for Todd—if he ever recovers, which, frankly, his doctor
doubts. But, dear, you realize I must know. I’ve got to drum up some
business if you don’t go along with us. Once this is done I can’t offer
you the same terms. Look them over; ask Todd if you wish, you’ll find
them fair.”
“Give me twenty-four hours to decide,” she replied.
That morning she carried the proposition, which was in contract form to
Dan Todd.
The girl could never look at his lifeless lower limbs without
shuddering. Once so strong and capable, now they lay like twin pieces of
dead wood, good only to cause ridges in the bed coverings. Once she had
dropped the clock on his right leg and he did not know it happened.
* * * * *
He knew by the expression on her face a crisis was at hand. As she
leaned over to hand him the contract, the bobcat skin serving as a rug
slipped, throwing her forward. She fell across his legs and felt them
wince from the impact.
“Dan!” she cried. “Oh, Dan! You felt that!” She looked at him
searchingly, her face holding the mixed emotions of hope, doubt and
fear. Tears came slowly from her eyes. “Oh, Dan, aren’t you happy?”
“I felt it!” he admitted. “Let me read the contract while you fill the
water bucket—if you don’t mind.”
As she started for the creek, Dorothy suddenly realized the weather had
changed. The wind, which had been from the north, was slowly swinging
southward. “But it’s not the Chinook,” she mused, “the Chinook comes at
night.”
She grew a bit thoughtful and smiled softly. Dan Todd had come into her
life on a cold night and he had come from the south. She was just
beginning to realize how great was her joy over his partial recovery.
She dipped the clear water from a deep pool and the act sent a trout
scurrying upstream to cover. There was a song of peace in the creek that
morning. On another occasion it had brawled heedlessly along, reminding
one of the headstrong rush of an ungrateful child.
As she entered the cabin the water bucket slipped from her hand to the
floor. “Dan Todd!” she exclaimed, “you are up!”
“Yes, I’m up,” he answered. During the brief time she had been at the
creek he had dressed. “I’ve read the contract,” he added, “the time has
come to finish the fight. Within forty-eight hours many things will
happen.”
“But you should be in bed,” she protested.
“I am as good as ever. Perhaps I haven’t been entirely fair to you.
During the fight I was kicked in the back and a vertebra shifted
slightly, causing partial paralysis. It happened once before during my
football days. The doctor slipped it into place and after a week’s rest
I was as good as ever. I knew the moment I was on my feet the battle
would start and I wanted conditions of my own choosing. I’ve stayed in
bed when anyone was around, but I’ve done some prowling at night.”
“You speak of battle and we’ve a big order to fill. And you never did
tell me how that bid happened to be there on time?”
“I was afraid we might be blocked at the last minute and so I sent it in
a week ahead of time, intending to follow it with another bid if I could
bid lower.”
“Two jumps ahead as usual. But, Dan, can’t we have peace in this land?
Isn’t there enough business for both?”
“Yes, but Ludwig won’t let you have peace!” He blurted out the cold
statement.
“You don’t know him, Dan!”
“That’s it, I do. You don’t!” He saw she resented the trend the
conversation had taken. Warmth left her, she grew cold—icy.
“Now for the rest—” he began.
“I don’t care to hear more, Mr. Todd. A rival in business, yes, but he
won’t carry war to me! I’m going to have peace if we have to combine for
it. He was right. He said you always wanted trouble.”
“Granted! Where he’s concerned. Now, Dorothy Lowe, you are going to
listen to me.” No one had ever spoken to her like that. It surprised
her. “We win this fight in forty-eight hours or maybe lose it in the
end. I’m not going to lose a bit of the advantage I’ve gained. You’re
going to hear some things. You didn’t kill John Burke. I’ve said it
before. I repeat it.” She started to protest, but he silenced her. “And
neither did your brother!”
She gasped at that. “No one believes he did!” she cried nervously.
“Yes, many do. And you believe it! You also believe it was self-defense
and you are positive that if tried he would be convicted merely because
he’s a type these people don’t like. Isn’t that the truth?”
She refused to answer and he went on: “And so you accepted the blame to
save him. In turn he believes you were forced to kill Burke in
self-defense. But, even so, he was willing to go to the pen for it. You
wouldn’t let him take the blame, nor would the court. Oh, I know the
load you have each carried, and neither dare speak of it to the other.
For that, Dorothy, for that fine trait of character I’d go a long way
for either of you.”
“Then,” she asked in a strained tone of voice, “who did kill John Day
Burke?”
“I know, but I can’t prove it. Until I do— Well, there’s something
important we must attend to now.”
With a lunch in the pockets of his coat, Dan Todd led off with something
of his old-time swing. It had served his purpose to remain in bed, but
he had resented every hour of it.
For the most part he took seldom used trails and short cuts until
presently they stood on a ridge overlooking Ludwig’s stand of cedar. A
portion of it had been cut. “Stand here and count the stumps,” he
suggested, “each stump represents a tree; each tree several logs. I’ll
count, too!”
The girl was an hour completing the count, for she wanted to be
accurate. “Three hundred and five,” she announced.
“Near enough, I got two hundred and ninety-nine. Now we’ll have a look
at Black Lake.”
They walked down to the scene of the tragic night when Burke had been
found dead in the lodge and Dorothy unconscious in the rain. The lake
was dotted with logs, some of which had been there for months, others
recently.
“There are logs representing, roughly, nearly four hundred trees.
Remember only approximately three hundred have been cut from Ludwig’s
place. Besides that, Dorothy, he sold a lot of cedar during the year. In
other words, aside from his sales he still has more logs in reserve than
he could possibly have cut from his own land.”
“Where did he get them?”
“That requires another walk—to your own holdings. We’ll work along the
bank and—”
* * * * *
A strange voice broke in: “Just a minute, Todd, you’re supposed to be
sick!”
“I was sick,” Dan answered, facing Ludwig who had suddenly come upon
them. The man sensed his rival had made an unexpected move. His face was
a study. Dan looked at him sharply. Did he catch a glint of fear in his
eyes, as if Ludwig realized powerful forces were closing in on him? If
so, such an expression was instantly gone.
Ludwig turned to the girl. “What cock and bull yarn has he been dishing
up? Not that it makes any difference, for nothing he can say will hurt
my standing, but—”
“You are naturally curious,” Todd said. “We have been discussing the
merger of the Ludwig-Lowe interests. I have taken the negative—”
“As usual.”
“As usual where you are concerned,” Todd agreed. “We are wondering—or
rather she is, for I know—how you happen to have more logs on Black Lake
than you could possibly cut?”
“Are you suggesting—” Ludwig advanced with a snarl on his face.
The show-down had come at last. In rage, man and woman alike will say
more than when cool-headed. Out of Ludwig’s own mouth Dan Todd prepared
to convict him. “I’m saying,” he said, “that Burke was a tool of yours.
I’m saying that half the cedar logs cut from the Lowe timber lands
‘accidentally’ dropped into the south fork of Flaming River and floated
down into Black Lake. That you paid him to permit this. I’m saying that
every log on Black Lake is, by rights, Dorothy Lowe’s.”
“Try and get ’em!” Ludwig shouted. Facts and figures were against him.
“Try and get ’em! We’re ready for you in a court of law or a
free-for-all fight.”
“You are usually ready for a free-for-all,” Dan retorted, “and the ratio
is about four to one.”
Dorothy shot a quick glance at Dan. So he did know who it was that beat
him up!
“Try and get ’em!” challenged Ludwig. “I’ll show you up for what you
are. Make you the laughing stock of the Northwest. Dorothy, are you
going to believe this rot?”
“We plan to get them, Ludwig! There’s a lot of business to be finished
up in the next twenty-four hours. Getting Miss Lowe’s stolen logs back
is one of them. Oh, sure, undoubtedly some of the logs came from your
place, but you should have kept them apart—or branded them!”
He turned to the girl. It was best to leave an enemy on the defensive.
The blow had been dealt so quickly and with such force Ludwig had not
yet had time to think and cloud the issue. “Come on, Miss Lowe,” he
said.
As though in a dream the girl followed him. How swift and telling were
Dan Todd’s blows. At last she spoke: “Dan, do you think Mr. Ludwig
killed John Burke?”
“Fearing exposure when it was time to make a report to you, Burke might
have committed suicide, you know. But I don’t think he did.” And that
was all he would say until they reached the upper waters of Flaming
River.
Most streams fork and the stream is larger as a result, but Flaming
River was the reverse. There were many forks higher up, but for several
miles the main stream flowed along fed only by small creeks. Then it
struck a rough area and split. A fourth of the water ran along an
ancient channel and emptied into Black Lake, from which it eventually
flowed on to the Sound. The larger northern fork ran directly to the
Sound, emptying at a point half a mile from the south fork water. It was
said that miners after placer gold, sixty years before, had diverted the
water in order to work the gravel in the south fork, which was the
natural course.
When they were on the ground Dan Todd pointed. “See, Dorothy, how simple
it is?”
High above them stretched a network of cables. A donkey engine’s whistle
gave a sharp blast and through the air, sixty feet above the south fork,
swung a cedar log. It moved on, was picked up by another lead and
carried to the north fork where it was dropped in the water. “Your
logs,” he said. “Wait, there’ll be another before long!”
When the next log was over the south fork Todd shouted an order. The
cable slacked away and presently the cedar floated. A man scrambled down
the bank and removed the cable, the log floated leisurely down the
stream, bumping from bank to bank, and presently vanished. “It’s on its
way to Ludwig,” Dan said. “See how simple it is!”
“And you’ve known this for a year?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell
me?”
“You must remember I believed Burke represented your ideas in logging
matters. They were opposed to mine. I couldn’t see that it made any
difference if Peter was robbed to pay Paul. Besides, I had no definite
proof—merely rumor. Now you know everything. In case something happens
you’ll know what to expect; how to proceed!”
“In case something happens,” she repeated, “to you? Oh, Dan, hasn’t
enough happened already?”
“Nothing is going to happen,” he said quickly. But the way she looked at
him thrilled Dan Todd. It is queer how love sneaks in when no one is
looking and Cupid shuffles the cards. “Dorothy!” he said in a low tone
filled with emotion. And then something did happen.
CHAPTER IX.
THE CHINOOK COMES.
Jim Ludwig was looking at a wall and seeing considerable handwriting. He
realized that two months ago he had underestimated Todd’s abilities. The
man’s injuries had lulled him to a sense of security, then in a
twinkling that security had been kicked from under him.
“And I said too much,” he growled, “Dorothy sees through my game. But
that brother is still under my thumb. I’ve got to get hold of him; but
first I must protect these logs.”
He called a foreman. “Get a gang of men to branding those cedar logs.
Another thing: be ready for a raid from Lowe’s loggers. Send a man down
the line and if anything looking like a sheriff heads this way to take
legal possession, telephone up and we’ll take care of him. I’m going to
see Bob Lowe. After that I’m going up to Yates’s cabin.”
Then he took a speeder and headed for town. He found Bob on a boom
working logs up to the conveyor. “Bob, come here a minute! Things look
bad for me. That is, Todd’s twisted facts and your sister believes them.
You’re sticking to me? You’d better!”
“I’m sticking to you as against Todd. You’d better clear out, it doesn’t
look right to the men to see you around. It’ll put me in wrong.”
“I’ll let you know what I want you to do. And, Bob, in case Todd shows
his teeth at you, remember my teeth are longer than his and I’ve got
claws besides. I’m telling you now, for if you weaken I might not be
around to tell you.” Ludwig hurried away.
Again the speeder was called into action. He noted men were working on
the Black Lake logs as he passed, but he did not stop until he was
opposite Bull Yates’s cabin. Bull had already been advised by telephone
that “the boss is coming and he’s wild.”
The cougar was tied up; Yates was ready for anything. He had experienced
such moods before. But this was the worst of the lot, as he saw at a
glance! “I told you to get Todd,” he shouted, advancing in a threatening
manner, “and you failed!”
“I thought he was got,” Yates answered. “Is he running around loose
again?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll finish him this time!”
“You’d better. If you can’t do a fancy job, do a bum one: I’ve got money
enough to clear you on a self-defense plea. But get that man or we’re
ruined. Round up your men in the woods; bring ’em in. There may be a
fight at Black Lake. If so, we’re on our own ground and that’s
self-defense.”
He was gone, leaving Yates in a sullen mood. He never blamed Ludwig for
anything that happened. Instead he blamed the man who riled his employer
up. He walked over to the restless cougar. “Horse meat, sure!” he
growled.
* * * * *
An hour after Ludwig had left Bob Lowe, Dan Todd burst in on him. “Come
on to the office, Bob, I want to talk to you.”
Sullenly Bob followed. A packet of mail lay on Dan’s desk. The top
letter, bearing a British Columbia stamp, caught his eye. “Excuse me a
minute, Bob, there’s a letter I’ve been waiting six months for!” He read
it quickly, smiled, then passed it over to the younger man.
“Read it, Bob, and you’ll understand I’m not alone in my conservation
ideas. These men have seen the forests go in other countries and are
planning to profit by it. In the letter was an offer that would attract
any young man. A summer cruising timber in the shadow of snow-capped
peaks. There would be camps by trout streams; bird shooting in season
and, best of all, life in the open. After that would come the finest
logging equipment and a mill to be built at tide water. You see, Bob,
they want an estimate of the annual growth and they plan to cut just
that amount, and no more.”
“Why don’t you take it and leave us alone,” the youth growled. “We can
get along without you.”
“Listen, Bob. Give me a chance, won’t you? You’ve not got a thing on me.
I’ve something on you. I’ve fought clean from start to finish. You
haven’t! Now listen to this. Dorothy and I are going to be married. For
your sister’s sake, make the best of it.”
Bob Lowe’s face went gray. He gasped, then shaking a fist under Todd’s
nose, he cried. “Marry Sis, eh? You? Over my dead body. I mean that,
damn you! Before I’ll see her tied up for life to trash like you, I’ll
kill you if I have to stab you in the back or shoot from underbrush!”
“A truce, Bob, for forty-eight hours. After that I’ll get out. That’s
all I want. I’m going to get it if I have to hog-tie you. But if you’re
half as loyal to Dorothy as you say you are, then you’ll fight beside
me. Keep an eye on the bay and if you see any logs floating there, bring
’em in to the boom. If you can’t do it alone, get some help.”
When alone, Dan shook his head sadly. “I may have to beat some sense
into that young fool yet. It’s going to be tough on Dorothy if he’s at
outs with me. I thought he had brains enough to see which was the right
and which was the wrong side of a question.”
Dan ran up the steps of the Lowe home and rang the bell. “A letter,
Dorothy,” he cried. “Read it over and tell me what you think. See you
tomorrow sometime.”
“Where are you going now?”
“Up beyond the forks of Flaming River.” He looked at the sky. The wind
was shifting toward the south; the air was warmer. “I’ve got to get a
move on.”
“Going alone? I wish you wouldn’t!”
“The job I have in mind is a lone wolf’s job. The enemy won’t be
expecting me to strike in just that way.”
“In what way?”
He leaned close. “The walls have ears,” he said, “so I’ll whisper!”
“Oh, Dan!” she exclaimed. “Who would have thought of it?”
“Anybody with a lick of sense,” he answered, “it is the only way.” Then
he was gone.
Dan Todd had hardly left town before the telephones along the Ludwig
logging line began to ring. Bull Yates fairly leaped to his instrument,
for it was his call. Ludwig’s voice came crisp and commanding:
“Dan Todd just left on Chinook. He must be going far or he wouldn’t take
the horse. Keep your eyes open. I’ll have the other stations check up as
he goes along. It’s a fine night. Good-by!”
“Yes,” Yates muttered, “it’s a fine night for a murder!”
From time to time he received telephone calls. At last he got up, his
manner grim, satisfied. “Todd’s passed the last station, he’s going up
to their forks camp, sure!”
He fastened a chain to the cougar’s collar and set forth. The wind had
died down; the moon was shining. How silently the cat moved, he noticed;
just the brush of the fur against the thicket, a soft sound audible to
only the keenest ear. His own footfalls were almost as silent.
He did not take to a stream this night. There wasn’t time, but he had
discarded his boots for moccasins. Such footwear was not logical in this
country, but they could be burned up. Besides, it would take an Indian
to track him down.
The silence was broken by the snort of a horse. He gripped the whip and
unsnapped the collar. “Up,” he ordered. “Up!” The cat hesitated, then
ran up a tree and out on a limb. The eyes, gleaming in the moonlight,
took on a sinister flame. He had forgotten that on a still night sound
travels far. The horse was farther than he figured. The cat hadn’t
caught the scent yet.
Yates grew nervous and drew the whip back. Why didn’t that horse hurry?
Why did the cat look at him so steadily? Was it possible that the
creature—? “God!”
Yates shuddered and for the first time experienced fear. The steady
threat in those flaming eyes above had broken down his nerve. Fear! It
is something invisible. We cannot put our finger on it, yet it bridges
space and wild creatures sense it.
The great muscles grew tense. The cougar had not forgotten his cruelty,
any more than it had forgotten that in the pen at the cabin was catnip.
As a man runs risks for the things he desires, so did the cat return to
the cage for the catnip—returned, knowing the cruel collar awaited.
Yates moved backward slowly. He must get beyond reach of that threatened
leap. Where was the horse? Todd, confound him, had stopped for the black
to drink! Something struck him behind the legs. Yates sensed it was a
snag, but a movement of the cat stampeded him just when he should have
gripped his nerve and stood still. He clutched at a branch, missed and
fell.
The fall of something living is the signal for wild creatures to attack.
Thus they prey! The cat sprang to the ground and at the same moment
Yates got to his feet and ran. Through a brief stretch of moon-splashed
forest he raced, screaming in terror. Each moment he could feel the
crushing impact, the claws, the fangs at his throat! He knew the
process, for he had watched the cougar bring down bucks.
Silence! He ran from it, knowing its menace. Gleaming eyes from a
thicket, the silent rush to a log, the brief run along the timber’s
length, another leap to an overhanging tree, and then—
Yates leaped a split second ahead of the cat. The paws struck the ground
as he left it. He ran to a rocky point and turned, a creature at bay.
Behind was a sheer drop of seventy feet to a deep pool in the river. In
front, the cat.
Even then, had he really been a man of courage and rushed at the cat,
the cougar would have retreated. But he was afraid, and the cat knew it.
Of the two cowards the cat was the lesser, hence the braver. Confidently
it advanced. Slowly. Surely. Its problem was to bring down the man
without going over the brink. It gathered for the spring.
From Yates’s throat came a scream that matched the cat’s. He turned and
leaped! The mist-drenched walls of the gorge echoed with another scream
as he shot downward, hands above his head, fingers clutching again and
again at the air.
Water leaped high from the point where he struck, then settled back,
foaming. The cat peered down with gleaming eyes, but nothing came to the
surface. The stream rushed on to the sea. The cat turned and vanished in
the timber. For an hour or more its hunting was aimless, a
criss-crossing quest that might bring a scent.
Presently it rushed across the trail, caught the horse scent and whirled
like a flash. The odor was recent, maddeningly fresh. Almost heedlessly
the cat followed.
* * * * *
Dan Todd pulled up his horse and looked about. “Chinook, I’ve got to
leave you for a half hour or so, but we’ll play safe and be sure no
cougar followed.” Dan doubled back afoot and examined the trail. There
were no cat tracks. “Guess Bull Yates isn’t out to-night. Just as well
for me—I’ve got troubles enough.”
Carrying a small pack on his back, Dan began climbing a timbered
hogback. When he emerged, snow was under his boots and a scene beyond
description stretched around him. Above, the snow lay deep on ridge and
valley. Moonlight gave it a silvery aspect, more like something seen on
the stage than something actual. A green carpet of timber rolled away
toward the waters of the Sound.
Fifteen miles away a lighthouse gleamed. A narrow path of gold came from
the light, across the waters to the timber. It almost met the silver
thread breaking the blackish green of the forest—the thread that was
Flaming River.
He looked below and an exclamation escaped his lips. Chinook was rearing
violently. Even as Dan guessed the cause the cougar burst from the brush
that ringed the clearing. The scream of the horse, always terrible to
hear, floated upward. Throwing his full weight backward, the rope
snapped and Chinook was free. His was the courage of a range stallion
running wild. He whirled and faced his enemy, and the cat, surprised at
the offer of battle, grew wary, and slunk into the brush. While the
horse trembled, now on the verge of panic because of the uncertainty,
the cat ran several hundred feet, rushed from a thicket and leaped. Its
claws struck the saddle and held. A hind claw dug into Chinook’s flank.
Unable to aid, Dan could only watch from the ridge while the drama of
the wild unfolded. The moon and the surroundings changed the fight to
something shadowy, like the softening of a picture for the effect. Only
the screams of the horse broke the illusion and told of the cruel
conflict.
Chinook reared high, almost shook the cat free, then came to earth with
a thud. He bucked frantically, keeping the cat so busy hanging on that
it could not start its offensive. This was no frightened buck beneath
its claws.
Suddenly the horse broke into a gallop. He vanished into the timber, and
with loudly beating heart Dan Todd stood tense, waiting. The screams no
longer came, only silence and the rush of a gentle breeze. It was warm,
blowing from the south; the chinook that always comes at night,
according to legend, warm in spite of the snow-fields over which it
swept. A twisted scrub, burdened with snow, suddenly shook itself free
and lifted a green top, as if to observe the coming of summer.
The scream of the horse again! It chilled Dan as the breeze had warmed
him. As he looked Chinook hurled himself against a cedar snag and the
cougar, hurt by the impact, dropped off.
“At him, boy!” yelled Dan; “get him while you’ve the chance. Quick!
There he comes! Too late!”
But Dan was wrong. Chinook reared and his hoofs caught the cougar in
midair. The cat squirmed backward, almost got free, then was pinned to
the ground with both hoofs. It slashed out viciously and drove its teeth
into the horse’s fore-leg. When Chinook reared again the cat was still
clinging to the leg.
Again the horse screamed. This time there was more of anger, less of
fear. The cat was ready to quit. It broke loose and skulked for the
brush. On the very edge the horse caught it again.
Down came steel-shod hoofs and tawny fur was driven into forest muck. A
shudder ran through the cat, it half stood up, then dropped. Again and
again came the hoofs, until fur, sod and brush became a crimsoned,
formless mixture. To Dan Todd’s ears came the shrill whinny of the
victor.
“It’s been long in coming, old hoss,” he cried, “but luck’s breaking our
way at last. You’ve won your fight and the chinook’s come.”
To the south great banks of black clouds were rolling across the sky.
Light was wiped from the valley, silver was replaced with inky black;
only the lighthouse with the path of gold across the water remained. A
splatter of warm rain struck Dan’s face. He grinned, worked his way
along the face of the mountain until the north fork waters rushed almost
below him, then he stopped; dug deep into the rocks, snow and dirt;
tamped a charge of powder in place, lit a long fuse and ran for the
timber.
Minutes passed, then the earth trembled. Rocks and débris leaped from
the mountain face and a mighty slide started downward. Dan Todd faded
into the timber. The rain now was coming in torrents. And, curiously
enough, the snow was melting from the mountain tops downward. For this
is the way of the Chinook.
CHAPTER X.
CEDAR LOGS.
Ludwig was humped up on a speeder, while the rain beat against his face
and ran in a steady stream down the gleaming slicker he was wearing. The
speeder stopped at Black Lake and Ludwig ran for the shelter of the
lodge. His mill foreman was already there. He had been marking certain
logs that were to be cut later.
“South fork’s rising,” he shouted above the rattle of rain on the cedar
roof. “Never saw it come up so fast. That snow’s sure going off fast!”
“Heard from Bull this morning?”
“No, guess the line’s down. Couldn’t get a rise out of him!” The
foreman, a man named Secord, limped toward the telephone.
“How’s the foot?”
“Thought it might be blood poison, it was bad for a long time, but it’s
better. Todd drove his calks right into my instep that night. Left his
brand all right. I’ve got to get him for that. Seen the kid?”
“Yes,” Ludwig answered, “he’s with us!”
“Should think he would be, after what Todd did to him. If he’d of got
blood poison in that chest—good night. Queer Bull don’t answer!”
As he hung up, the telephone rang. Secord answered. “The devil you say.
I’ll tell the boss, he’s right here!” He hung up and turned to Ludwig.
“A big gang from Lowe’s mill left before daylight. They must be headed
this way. The mill’s shut down!”
“We’re ready for them!” Ludwig indicated a shed on the opposite side of
the lake, filled with rough men, smoking. “Let ’em come! That stream’s
sure rising. Hear her roar?”
“Water’s got to go some place,” Secord returned, “there’s a pile of snow
in those mountains; the sides are steep and water comes down fast.”
A current had already appeared in the lake, which was long and very
narrow! The logs were moving slowly toward the other end. At this point
there was something of a narrow neck and the water moved fast and
disappeared in the outlet.
Abrupt activity among the men in the shed caused Ludwig to hurry across
the bridge to the other side. A man met him half way. “Mr. Ludwig, Bull
Yates’s body was found a half hour ago in the stream. Four of the boys
are bringing it in.”
“The devil!” A shade of worry passed over Ludwig’s face. “Any marks on
the body?”
“Only the calk marks he got that night in the fight with Todd. Todd’s
calks got him in the flesh above the knee when he went down.”
“Yes, I remember. Todd branded all of us! Say, what’s wrong here?” A
wave of water spilled over the footbridge and the structure began
groaning from the force. The lake had risen a foot, he noticed. A moment
later a small log demolished the bridge completely.
Another wave sent the men to higher ground. The logs had formed in a
mighty jam. Ludwig was pale now. “If the water gets much higher, or if
the jam breaks everything will go. Every log in the lake will be in the
bay within an hour.”
“They’ll strand down on the bar,” some one suggested.
“Bar —— hell!” Ludwig exploded. “There’ll be six feet of water on that
river bar inside an hour.”
A logger, his clothing torn from frequent and violent contact with the
brush, ran into the clearing. Not being able to cross the stream he
cupped his hands and roared above the storm: “No water going down north
fork. Everything’s coming down here. Must be a slide—” His final words
were lost.
Ludwig ran to the telephone.
“Get a locomotive up here as quick as you can,” he ordered, “bring
powder, caps and fuse!” He bellowed for his foreman. “Secord, tell that
gang to be ready to hop a flat car with picks, shovels and axes. Tell
’em they’re battling for their jobs. If those logs go we can never get
that Jap contract; Todd and his men will have ’em in their mill pond in
no time!”
No one realized more than Ludwig that the shoe would then be on the
other foot. Whereas now he had them and it was up to Todd to prove
title; yet if the Lowes got possession he would have a hard job proving
his right to the logs. In fact, he had sense enough not to make the
attempt. On those logs hung the future of both companies. One would
ascend, the other descend.
The locomotive came puffing through the rain an hour later. It hooked
onto a flatcar loaded with men, and started upstream. Once, where a
bridge was smothered in water, men got out and tested it, then the
locomotive moved slowly across. That bridge would not be there when they
returned. Its hours were numbered.
With a grinding of brakes the train stopped. Men piled off, carrying
equipment, and followed Ludwig’s lead down a pack trail. They broke
across the Lowe clearing, then took the north fork bed, which was dry
except for pools packed with excited trout.
Not a man in the group was prepared for the sight that greeted them. The
slide blocked the stream and along its base, as well as on its crest,
stood dozens of Lowe’s loggers. They were armed with pickhandles and
clubs. There was doubtless a gun or two among them, but such weapons
were not in evidence.
Ludwig ran up, his attitude threatening. “Todd, you’re drowning me out!”
he shouted.
“You challenged us to try and get the logs you stole and we’re trying!”
Todd retorted. He came down and met his enemy on even ground.
Ludwig was breathing hard. “You’re going to stand aside and let us clear
away that slide or—or we’ll break heads until you’ll listen to reason.”
“Come ahead, we’re ready for you!”
Ludwig looked around. They seemed to be ready for him. If those at the
base of the dam found the going too rough, they could retreat to more
advantageous ground. There were rocks to roll down, to say nothing of
the pickhandles. Presently Ludwig’s eyes saw a familiar figure. “One
friend at least,” he muttered, “Bob Lowe’s in the mob! If he only has
sense enough to crack Todd over the head!”
Ludwig turned to his men. “Stay where you are, boys, we’ll talk this
over!” Then walking back he added in a low tone: “If you value your
jobs, clean ’em up. Lay off the rosy-cheeked lad, he’s one of our crowd.
That’s Bob Lowe. Most of you know him. He may pretend to break a few
heads, but it’ll be for effect. Ready?” A roar of approval answered him.
“Then at ’em!” he cried.
There were guns in both parties, but each, with an eye to future
consequences from the law, waited for the other to produce them.
* * * * *
The first rush drove the defenders back, then those on top came down
like a wave. In a brief time the slide was the scene of several dozen
small fights. Here a defender won, there an attacker gained a brief
foothold.
Ludwig worked his way toward Bob Lowe. “Knock Todd in the head!” he
shouted. “I’ll keep him busy.” Thereupon he rushed toward Dan, to keep
him occupied in front while some one got him from behind.
But Dan was taking no chances. Defensively at first, then with furious
aggressiveness he met Ludwig’s attack. They stood toe to toe, slugging
with naked fists. In the excitement Ludwig began a crafty retreat,
drawing Todd out. A Ludwig man leaped in behind and lifted a club, but
before he could bring it down a Todd man had laid him low.
Some one cracked Dan behind the ear and he went down. Because of the wet
weather Ludwig had worn shoe-packs. As Ludwig stepped back the imprint
was clear and distinct in the muck. Dan Todd eyed the track in a dazed
manner, then he shook his head to clear the fog a blow always creates.
Again he looked at the track. He got to his feet to find Ludwig
advancing to finish him. He retreated. “Get Ludwig!” he cried. “Get him!
He killed John Day Burke! Get him alive if you can!”
Above the uproar a few heard the cry. And yet, so evenly matched were
they, that as one man started for Ludwig, usually another was there to
block him.
The logger had heard the charge. He whipped out an automatic pistol only
to have Dan Todd hurl a handful of mud into his eyes before he could aim
the weapon. The next instant some one had knocked it from his hand.
He partly cleared his vision and turned to run. Dan made a flying tackle
and brought him down. With a tug born of desperation Ludwig jerked away,
leaving Dan sprawled in the mud. But Dan Todd was grinning. He held
something priceless in his arms—one of Ludwig’s shoepacks. He tossed it
to Bob Lowe. “Hang onto it, Bob, that’ll prove who killed Burke. I’ve
got the rest of the evidence, now all I need is the man.”
But the man was retreating swiftly. While his men fought off pursuit,
Ludwig forced another to remove his boots. “I’m going to need ’em,” the
logger cried, “you can get along!”
Hastily lacing them, Ludwig made a run for the stream. “Fight it out,
boys,” Dan yelled, “I’m after Ludwig. He’s on the run; they’ll follow.
Tie into ’em!”
And down came the Lowe crowd, swinging right and left. For a moment the
Ludwig men held, then the center of the line broke. The gang turned and
fled, every man for himself, with Todd’s crowd in hot pursuit. Above,
the skies sprayed the fighters; behind them the angry waters leaped on a
dam that held.
Ludwig looked apprehensively behind. His gun was gone and with it his
confidence. Escape was his sole thought. He ran to the river bank and
with the help of two of his men launched a cedar log.
As the current caught it, he leaped aboard. Down to Black Lake; then a
speeder to town and from there a fast launch to British Columbia. He had
friends who would look after his affairs.
The log rolled at times, but he had served his day as a white water
birler. The old art of balance remained. He crouched low as the log
rushed between the piers of the railroad bridge. The bridge was gone;
the iron rails snapped in two.
He looked back and swore. A dozen rods behind came Dan Todd, poised
lightly on a smaller log. He had it in a smother of foam in the middle
of the stream where the water ran swiftest. His balance was perfect; his
jaw determined, his eyes flashing. His hat was gone and the rain had
changed his thick hair to a mass of disordered curls. A romantic girl
would have called him handsome. He was! But to Ludwig he was an avenging
devil.
Ludwig forced his own log into the white water and the race was on.
Again and again both men were forced to call on all their skill to
remain on the logs. Walls towered high at times. Again the country
leveled out somewhat, but it was all timbered. A buck, head held high,
watched the race with amazement.
Dan noticed how he merged with the background as he stood there. Queer
thought to have when a man might be engaged in a life and death struggle
a minute hence. Dan always could find time for beauty—natural and
feminine. Twenty feet separated them as they rushed into Black Lake.
Black River would have been a better name. It was now a wild part of the
river a little wider than the rest. Above the roar of stream and storm
came the thunder of moving logs.
The jam had broken!
Cedars that were six feet through and made a powerful loader grunt to
handle, were tossed about like toothpicks. Yellowish brown water spumed
up between them. Here a log was sucked down; there another shot up,
dripping from the depths. And into the center ran the streams bearing
its débris and two humans. Ludwig stood poised like an athlete and when
his log struck he leaped to the jam. From log to log he skipped, while
hard on his heels came Dan Todd.
Suddenly he turned. He knew he was whipped and escape was impossible.
His face changed with the inward reaction. With a sudden leap he gripped
Dan Todd and his yellow teeth bared in a fiendish smile. “You win, Todd,
and you lose. We’re both going to hell!”
Swaying they fought it out, and this time it was Dan Todd who wanted to
be free. Once they slipped between the grinding mass of cedars they were
done. Contact that would hardly squeeze water from the bark would kill a
human being.
All of Dan’s strength went into a single punch. Ludwig’s jawbone
snapped; the knuckles of Dan’s right hand broke through the flesh. He
felt the sting of the dirty flood water as it struck the wound. Then he
stooped and picked up Ludwig.
With the man thrown over his shoulder Dan worked his way to the edge of
the jam, then leaped in. Waist deep he struggled the hundred feet
separating him from shore. He pitched Ludwig downward, as he might have
heaved a fence post from his shoulder, then slumped down on top,
panting.
“Well, you boys settled it!” Dan looked up into the sheriff’s eyes as
the latter went on. “Toughest fight I ever saw, and Ludwig quit. Always
figured he had a streak of yellow if it could be brought to the surface.
You was a fool, Dan, to drag him out after him trying to drown you.”
“I had to drag him out. That kind of a death wasn’t fated for him. He’s
going to swing. He killed Burke. I had a motive from the first, but no
proof. Now I’ve got the proof.
“Found shoepack tracks that night at the scene of the crime. There was a
queer three-cornered cut, such as might have been made by stepping on a
broken bottle, in the middle of the left sole. I found that pack
to-day—on Ludwig.
“The accounting was due, sheriff, and Burke was in a jam. He was ready
to throw himself on Dorothy Lowe’s mercy and make a clean breast. That
had to be stopped. Ludwig knew he would go over the road for stealing
logs and so he stopped it—with Dorothy’s little automatic. That’s how it
happened, wasn’t it, Ludwig?”
Arrogant in victory, Ludwig was a mongrel in defeat. “Yes,” he growled,
“that’s what happened. Why didn’t you let me drown myself?”
“It was too clean a death, Ludwig,” the sheriff answered. He scratched
his head. “I was on my way up to the forks to settle a riot when I saw
you two come down the river. I waited to see the finish. Now I suppose
I’d better take this cuss back and let the riot take care of itself.”
“The riot’s all over, sheriff, it ended in our favor! I’ll go down with
you, though. May as well send a doctor up to patch the battered heads.
This hand of mine needs a little attention, too.”
“That hand’s got kick enough in it, Dan, to win a world’s championship.”
“Can’t take the time, sheriff, I’ve got a big job on hand in British
Columbia and I’m due there to-morrow. I’m afraid I won’t make it!”
CHAPTER XI.
BOB LOWE’S REVENGE.
As Ludwig was taken to jail Dan looked out onto the bay. Here was a sign
to gladden the heart of any logger. Scores of ponderous cedar logs were
floating about and a fleet of tugs and gasboats were towing them to the
Lowe booms. Even the tide was helping.
He stopped at the Lowe home. Dorothy was gone. He left a note:
DOROTHY:
I must leave for British Columbia tomorrow. Won’t
be able to return for at least a month. Will you
go with me?
As ever,
DAN.
P.S. Am returning to the forks to start north fork
in its proper channel. Your logs are all in the bay.
Black Lake is empty.
An hour later Dorothy Lowe found it, and as she read it Bob came in,
dripping from his ride to town. He looked over her shoulder and read the
contents at a glance.
“Gosh, Sis, do you really love that long drink of water? Huh! He’s not
good enough for you. Huh! Women are sure queer. And you used to have
good sense!” He stalked from the room, but returned. “You know I’ve got
something to say about this. I’m the only male member of the family. A
bride has to be given away, and I’m going to do any giving that’s to be
done in this case.”
“Bob, don’t be unpleasant,” she pleaded.
“I feel that way,” he answered and walked leisurely to his room, leaving
a trail of water behind him. In the distance he saw Dan Todd, riding
Chinook. “I wonder where I can find that bird when I want him. Some of
the boys should know!”
And while he was pondering on this angle of the situation “that bird”
was galloping to the forks. There was much to be done and little time in
which to do it. In ones and twos, victors and vanquished were making
their way back down the railroad tracks and trails.
Here and there he found a foreman or straw boss and to each he gave
orders as to his course for the next several weeks. A few sticks of
powder were sufficient to blow an opening in the slide—the stream did
the rest.
He worked late, slept in one of the camps and fretted most of the
following day because there was so much to be done and the line to town
was down. A logger should be used to that, but there are times when
little things prove annoying to a man in love.
Toward evening the break was repaired and a few minutes later an excited
voice demanded Dan Todd. “Better get down here, Dorothy Lowe’s been
kidnaped!”
Dan swore, then collected his wits. “Is Ludwig out of jail?”
“No!”
“I figured he might have escaped and got his revenge. I’ll be right
down!”
He saddled Chinook and galloped down a trail intended only for a slow
pace.
As he rode, his bitterness toward Bob increased. He remembered the
threats Bob had made. But the threats had been against him, not the
girl.
He smiled softly some time later. Here was the spot she had found him
and here, Maple Creek cabin, where she had nursed him after the beating.
Chinook snorted and a man leaped for his bridle. Other men, at least a
dozen of them, swarmed over Dan Todd. His struggles were futile and a
voice shouted. “We’ve got him, Bob!” Then a light came on in the cabin.
The men released their victim and he looked around. All were masked
except Bob Lowe. He stood alone, smiling in triumph. “I’m giving orders,
Todd,” he said, “and you’re obeying them. You’re leaving the country
to-night. Get off those clothes and put on these!”
To Dan Todd’s amazement he was given the full evening dress he had worn
at college. “Not this stuff, boys,” he pleaded, “I can’t go wandering
around to-morrow in this outfit.”
“Get ’em on and shut up!” Lowe ordered. “If you don’t, the boys will put
’em on for you, won’t you boys?”
Their growling response indicated they would enjoy carrying out Lowe’s
suggestion.
He dressed slowly, taking considerable care while his active mind
searched for a way of escape. “Tell me this, Bob, is Dorothy safe?” he
asked. “They phoned me she had been kidnaped.”
“She’s in good hands, if that’s what you want to know. Later she’ll be
turned over to a party I think can handle her. She’s headstrong, you
know, and it will take a strong man to handle her. But remember this,
what I do is for her own good.”
“You think it is,” Dan snapped.
“And my thinking it, is good enough—for me.”
Later Dan was blindfolded, placed on Chinook’s back, taken some distance
and then transferred to a car. After a brief ride he stepped out to find
the rough planks of a dock under his feet. “Step down,” Lowe ordered.
Dan obeyed. A great log, afloat, sagged beneath his feet. Murder? The
thought came to his mind. They must have expected resistance, for they
held him tightly. He decided to take somebody into the water with him
when the rough stuff started.
The bandage was jerked from his eyes and he blinked at several lights.
An orchestra struck up the wedding march. Dan gazed around. He was
standing alone on a mighty cedar, except for a minister. The mill pond
log boom was covered with friends. Coming towards him was Dorothy on the
arm of Bob Lowe, who was likewise dressed in evening clothes.
Bob was very solemn and as he drew near, growled, “Not a word out of
you, Todd. I’m running this wedding. I’m giving the bride away and I’m
best man.” He almost grinned, but checked this sharply. “Another thing,
don’t drop the ring into the bay.”
And Dan who had battled his way through to victory now obeyed with the
utmost meekness. He seemed dazed at the unexpected turn in affairs. Only
the minister’s words, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” convinced him
he was married.
He seemed to wonder what to do next until the voice of a big undercutter
shouted, “Well—go ahead and do it!”
Belatedly Dan kissed the bride. Then Bob Lowe thrust forth his hand.
“Put her there, old boy, if you care to. I’m sorry I made such a fool of
myself. I stick to my friends and it was hard to believe Ludwig wasn’t a
friend.
“Then the other day, fighting side by side with you, changed me. After
that I was as strong for you.”
“Bob, old scout, you did the job up brown. And—there’s nothing to
forgive. You’re on the job—stay on it. With a few old heads to help you
along you’ll make good. And—”
The undercutter’s voice broke in, “Say, my wife’s romantic. She claims
you don’t know how to kiss a bride. Go ahead, Dan, and kiss her like
they do in the movies. That’s it—take your time, lad, take your time.”
“Heck,” Dan growled, “I suppose I’ve got to do it.”
The girl smiled up. “And don’t you want to, Dan?” she whispered.
“Darned tootin’ I do,” he answered and did.
As they shifted their position slightly the log wallowed with unexpected
violence. Quick work saved Dan and his bride from going into the bay,
but there was a splash nevertheless, then the log steadied.
“What happened, Dan?”
“The best man just fell into the bay,” he answered, “and they’re fishing
him out.”
High above, the Chinook lazed its northward course, its breath as gentle
as the girl’s, its caress as tender as the man’s.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in Argosy, All-Story Weekly
Magazine, September 22, 1928. It is believed to be in the public domain
in the United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.]
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