Joan of Arc of the North Woods | Page 2

We were here first, you know!"
"That's got nothing to do with the present situation, Latisan. We've built
a million-dollar paper mill on the Toban, and it's up to me to feed it
with pulp stuff. We can't lug our plant off in a shawl strap if supply
fails."
"Nor can the folks who have built villages around the sawmills lug
away their houses if the mills are closed."

"Paper dominates in this valley nowadays, instead of lumber. Latisan,
you're old-fashioned!"
The young man, feeling his temper flame, lighted his pipe, avoiding too
quick retort.
"You stand to lose money in the lumber market, with conditions as they
are," proceeded Craig, loftily counseling another man about his own
business. The Comas director, intent on consolidation, had persistently
failed to understand the loyalty, half romantic, which was actuating the
old-line employers to protect faithful householders. "Let the workers
move down the river to our model town."
"And live in those beehives of yours, paying big rent, competing with
the riffraff help you hire from employment agencies? We can't see it
that way, Mr. Craig!"
"Look here! I've got some news for you. I've just pulled five of the
independents in with us--Gibson, Sprague, Tolman, Brinton, and
Bodwell. The Comas now controls the timber market on the Toban.
How about logs for your mills?"
Craig believed he was hitting Latisan five solid jolts to the jaw when he
named the recreant operators.
However, the young man had heard rumors of what the bludgeoning
methods of the Comas had accomplished; he surveyed Craig resolutely
through the pipe smoke.
He had come down from the Walpole tract that day in a spirit of new
confidence which put away all weariness from him. He was armed with
a powerful weapon. In his exultation, fired by youth's natural hankering
to vaunt success in an undertaking where his elders had failed, he was
willing to flourish the weapon.
Craig waggled a thick forefinger. "What are you going to saw,
Latisan?"

"Two million feet from the Walpole tract--where no ax has chipped a
tree for twenty-five years."
It was a return jolt and it made the Comas man blink. "But nobody can
buy the right to cut there."
"I have bought the right, Mr. Craig. An air-tight stumpage
contract--passed on by the best lawyer in this county--a clear title."
"Latisan, the Comas has never been able to round up those heirs--and
what we can't do with all our resources can't be done by you."
"The Latisans know this region better than the Comas folks know it, sir.
Five cousins by hard hunting--two gravestones by good luck! All heirs
located! Why don't you congratulate me?"
Just then the Comas director was thinking instead of talking.
In his operations he was a cocksure individual, Mr. Craig was! In his
hands, by his suggestion, his New York superiors had placed all the
details of business in the field of the north country. He had promised
consolidation with full belief in his ability to perform; one explicit
promise had been that this season would mark the end of the opposition
by the independents; the Comas would secure complete control of the
Toban timber and fix prices. But here were the ringleader Latisans in a
way to smash the corner which Craig had manipulated by bulldozing
and bribery! In the past Craig had not bothered headquarters with any
minute explanations of how he accomplished results. This crusher
which threatened all his plans and promises would make a monkey of
him in New York, he reflected.
"I want to say a last word to you, Mr. Craig," continued Latisan, stiffly.
"Probably we are now in for that fight on which you've been insisting. I
don't want to fight, but I'm ready for a fair stand-up. Just a moment,
please!" Craig had barked a few oaths preliminary to an outpouring of
his feelings. "I'm warning you to let up on those guerrilla tactics of
yours. I propose to find out whether your big men in New York are
backing you. I'm telling you now to your face, so you can't accuse me

later of carrying tales behind your back, of my intention to go to New
York and report conditions to the president of the Comas."
"Don't you dare!"
"I do dare. I'm going. I expect you to run in ahead of me, but no matter.
And speaking of tales behind a man's back----"
Craig was having difficulty in finding speech for retort; Latisan was
rushing the affair. Again Craig blustered, "Don't you dare!"
"Yes, I do dare. When I went away last summer I had good reasons for
keeping my plans to myself. I got back to the Toban and found slander
accusing me of sporting in the city, deviling around with liquor and
women. That's a