his second wind, he enjoyed his task, proving a certain pleasure in
the ease with which he handled his tool.

At the end of an interminable period, a faint, musical halloo
swelled, echoed, and died through the forest, beautiful as a
spirit. It was taken up by another voice and repeated. Then by
another. Now near at hand, now far away it rang as hollow as a
bell. The sawyers, the swampers, the skidders, and the team men
turned and put on their heavy blanket coats.

Down on the road Thorpe heard it too, and wondered what it might be.

"Come on, Bub! she means chew!" explained old man Heath kindly.
Old man Heath was a veteran woodsman who had come to swamping in
his old age. He knew the game thoroughly, but could never save
his "stake" when Pat McGinnis, the saloon man, enticed him in.
Throughout the morning he had kept an eye on the newcomer, and was
secretly pleased in his heart of the professional at the readiness
with which the young fellow learned.

Thorpe resumed his coat, and fell in behind the little procession.
After a short time he came upon a horse and sledge. Beyond it the
cookee had built a little camp fire, around and over which he had
grouped big fifty-pound lard-tins, half full of hot things to eat.
Each man, as he approached, picked up a tin plate and cup from a
pile near at hand.

The cookee was plainly master of the situation. He issued peremptory
orders. When Erickson, the blonde Swede, attempted surreptitiously
to appropriate a doughnut, the youth turned on him savagely.