Page:Harold Titus--Timber.djvu/83

Rh Lucius and this girl had been surprised at his errand.

"Tricked!" he laughed bitterly.

"Of course you were tricked. White—"

"Not by White! White tricked my father and he passed the trick to me. This was to be my start in life. He told me I didn't know saw logs from bumble-bees, but I know enough to realize that with this mess thirteen miles from a railroad, he might as well have given me so many—worn-out shoes!"

He laughed again and drew a cigarette from his case with unsteady fingers, lighted it and broke the match savagely.

"He can have his logs!" blowing smoke through his nostrils. "He can have his logs and let 'em rot for all of me! I'll find some other way to make my beginning!"

Helen's gaze travelled down the ravine to the river, flashing in the sunlight, to the swamp on the far side with dead cedar standing against the background of her pine; but her eyes did not reach the pine; they remained close to the river's bank where a strip of white sand showed and where the sunlight glistened on the wet bark of cedar poles drying from last night's rain. There were many poles on the skids—many poles—

"A quicker way?" she asked, almost casually.

"Quicker and easier."

"And what if these logs spoil?"

"Well, what of it?" he challenged. "What's that to me?"

"Nothing, perhaps—but maybe it should be." He eyed her closely, interest in what she was driving at overcoming for the moment his anger. "Were you in the army?"