Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Gaston Olaf and Big Business us for that week we put in up in the Valley,” he said softly. “It was touch and go up there. Money doesn’t seem to connect with that, somehow. We swore we were going to see her through if we lived to get out. No, I don’t believe money—just a bunch of money, and nothing more to do with that timber—is what we're after. You see——” pr “Tl give you ten thousand dollars.”’ Bradley reached for a pen. Thorson smiled. “Multiply that by ten and you’d be nearer a reasonable figure.” “Ten thousand. Or nothing.” “Nothing,” said Gaston quietly. “All right. You'll get it.” Bradley had dropped the mask now; he was frankly threatening. “We want that timber. We won’t be held up by an outsider. Take ten thousand and leave camp. Otherwise you'll be leaving one of these days with nothing.” Gaston Olaf sat quite still. Within, all was pleasant with him. As always when man-to-man trouble threatened a sense of peace and comfort had descended upon him. He measured Bradley’s eye, body and jaw, and his contentment grew, for he saw that his past battles had been boy’s play to what this man would offer. “It isn’t so much the timber, is it, Brad- ley? What you really want is to see me leave camp.” “You!” The start which Bradley gave told how true the shot had been. “You? What do you suppose I care about you?’’ “Bradley,” said the young man, “after that, there is only one chance for you to see me leaving this camp, and that is to send me out in a wooden box.” Bradley picked up a blue print and studied it. “The Syndicate doesn’t use wooden- boxes—if it can help it. They aren’t busi- nesslike. That’s all, Thorson. Good day.” “Good hell!’ laughed the woodsman. “Cut out the politeness. You’ve started something good, Bradley. And next time you can come and see me.” A HE STOOD outside the office for a while, undecided on his course of action. He hummed as he blinked lazily against the warm sun. Bradley had declared war, and though he ascribed it to business, the true reason 89 was Ethel Drake. Why wait, thought Gaston; why not force the issue at once? He looked toward the hotel where the Drakes were living. Why not?—The jack- pines behind the town groaned in the wind, and Gaston was recalled to himself. “Nothing doing! You cut ’em out, all of ’em, and get on the job,” he muttered and set his face toward the mill. And he continued to repeat these self-command- ments at intervals until his destination was reached. “Tom’s got comp’ny,” volunteered the top-sawyer as Gaston entered the saw-mill. “Wish I could have a girl like that come to visit me. Oh, a peach! Jest slip up and peek into the office.”’ Gaston tiptoed up to the office door and. promptly drew back. Ethel Drake was sitting in the large chair before the desk, Walter Loomis was leaning against the wall, and Tom Pine, squatting on his heels, was talking: “Well, now, sir—I mean, miss—as far’s the laws of civilization is concerned, I don’t come out any too strong for civilizatiay my black self. I ain’t had any great amount of it in mine, I admit you that, miss, but I’ve had a lot of the other things, and sometimes I ain’t quite convinced that civilization is any better. I remember once, ‘way back in the old days, when I was young, and before I’d met up with Gaston Olaf, I shipped as hunter on a sealing vessel out of San Francisco. , ‘‘T was one of those young fools then, miss, who want to go everywhere and see every- thing without knowing why. Well, sir— miss, to make it short, we got caught in the ice way up beyond Point Barrow, and there was a lot of splintering and cussing, and then the ice opened up and there we were, forty of us, sitting on a little rock of an © island with just food enough to last till come open water, if we keep our belts pulled in. “Well, I was young then and wiry, miss, so me and an Eskimo make a kayak and try for the main-land. We were lucky, and made it, and pretty soon we found an Eskimo snow-house, and they gave us fish, though they didn’t have any more’n the law allowed themselves, and one of ’em goes with us, and after a while we find an Indian village where they’ve got dogs. They give us a team and driver, and we travel and travel, and finally we get to oO CoMmiclooks ©