Joan of Arc of the North Woods

Joan of Arc of the North Woods,
by Holman Day

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Holman Day
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Title: Joan of Arc of the North Woods
Author: Holman Day

Release Date: September 18, 2007 [eBook #22667]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS***
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JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS
* * * * *
BOOKS BY HOLMAN DAY
JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS WHEN EGYPT WENT
BROKE ALL-WOOL MORRISON THE RIDER OF THE KING LOG
THE SKIPPER AND THE SKIPPED THE RED LANE THE
RAMRODDERS THE LANDLOPER WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS
SQUIRE PHIN BLOW THE MAN DOWN
Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London
* * * * *
JOAN OF ARC OF THE NORTH WOODS
by
HOLMAN DAY
Author of "The Rider of the King Log," "When Egypt Went Broke,"
Etc.

Harper & Brothers, Publishers New York and London
Joan of Arc of the North Woods
Copyright, 1922 By Harper & Brothers Printed in the U.S.A.
First Edition H-W

Joan of Arc of the North Woods
CHAPTER ONE

The timber situation in the Tomah country was surcharged.
When Ward Latisan came upon Rufus Craig, one afternoon in autumn,
steel struck flint and trouble's fuse was lighted.
Their meeting was on the Holeb tote road just below Hagas Falls.
Young Ward was the grandson of old John, a pioneer who was in his
day a saw-log baron of the times of pumpkin pine; by heredity Ward
was the foremost champion in the cause of the modern independent
operators.
In his own way, Craig, the field director of the Comas Consolidated
Paper Company, was the chief gladiator for an invading corporation
which demanded monopoly of the Tomah timber by absorption of the
independents.
Latisan tramped down the tote road from the shoulder of Holeb
Mountain, where he had been cruising alone for a week on the Walpole
tract, blazing timber for the choppers, marking out twitch roads and
haul-downs, locating yards; his short-handled ax was in his belt, his
lank haversack flapped on his back; he carried his calipers in one hand;
with the other hand he fed himself raisins from his trousers pocket,
munching as he went along. He had eaten the last of his scanty supply
of biscuits and bacon; but, like other timber cruisers--all of them must
travel light--he had his raisins to fall back on, doling them one by one,
masticating them thoroughly and finding the nourishment adequate.
He had been on the go every day from sunup till dark; nights he
cinched his belted jacket closely and slept as best he could, his back
against a tree; he had cruised into every nook and corner of the tract,
spending strength prodigally, but when he strode down the tote road his
vitality enabled him to hit it off at a brisk gait; his belt was a few holes
tighter, yet his fasting made him keenly awake; he was more alert to the
joy of being alive in the glory of the crisp day; his cap was in his
pocket, his tousled brown hair was rampant; and he welcomed the flood
of sunshine on his bronzed face.

Craig was making his way along the tote road in a buckboard, with a
driver. The road bristled with rocks and was pitted with hollows; the fat
horses dragged their feet at a slow walk. Craig was a big man, a bit
paunchy, and he grunted while he was bounced. He wore his city hard
hat as if he wished by his headgear to distinguish himself from the herd
of woodsmen whom he bossed.
Latisan overtook the toiling buckboard, and his stride was taking him
past when Craig hailed.
"Ride?"
"No--thank you!" The negative was sharp. Privation and toil had put an
edge on the young man's temper, and the temper was not amiable
where Craig was concerned.
"I've got some business to talk with you, Latisan."
"If that's so I can listen while I walk alongside."
But Craig ordered the driver to halt. Then the Comas director swung
around and faced Latisan. "I'm putting it up to you again--will you and
your father sell to the Comas?"
"No, sir!"
"What is it going to be--a fight to a finish?"
"If you keep your hands off us saw-log fellows, Mr. Craig, there'll be
no fight.