Joan of Arc of the North Woods | Page 6

Mr. Craig."
"I haven't been able to fight 'em with feathers all the time," confessed the field director. "There wasn't much law operating up there when I grabbed in. I have done the best I could, and if I have been obliged to use a club once in a while I have made the fight turn something for the corporation." He exhibited the pride of the man who had accomplished.
The attorney warned Craig again. "We can't afford to have any uproar started till we get our legislation properly cinched. Tomah seems to be attended to. But we need some pretty drastic special acts before we can go over the watershed and control the Noda waters and pull old Flagg into line. He's the last, isn't he?--the king-pin, according to what I hear."
"I'll attend to his case all right," declared Craig, with confidence. "I'll tackle the Noda basin next. Flagg must be licked before he'll sell. He's that sort. A half lunatic on this independent thing. I reckon you'll leave it to me, won't you?"
"We'll leave all the details of operation in the field to you, Craig," promised the president. "But you must play safe."
"I'll take full responsibility," affirmed Craig, whose pride had been touched.
"Then we shall continue to value you as our right bower in the north," said Marlow. "The man on the ground understands the details. We don't try to follow them here in the home office."
Craig walked out with Dawes.
"That talk has put the thing up to you square-edged, Craig."
Craig had been heartened and fortified by the president's compliments. "Leave it to me!"
CHAPTER THREE
Latisan had eaten his breakfast in the grill of a big hotel with a vague idea that such an environment would tune him up to meet the magnates of the Comas company.
In his present and humbler state of mind, hungry again, he went into a cafeteria.
Waiting at the counter for his meat stew and tea--familiar woods provender which appealed to his homesickness--he became aware of a young woman at his elbow; she was having difficulty in managing her tray and her belongings. There was an autumn drizzle outside and Ward had stalked along unprotected, with a woodman's stoicism in regard to wetness. The young woman had her umbrella, a small bag, and a parcel, and she was clinging to all of them, impressed by the "Not Responsible" signs which sprinkled the walls of the place. When her tray tipped at an alarming slant, as she elbowed her way from the crowded counter, Ward caught at its edge and saved a spill.
The girl smiled gratefully.
"If you don't mind," he apologized; his own tray was ready. He took that in his free hand. He gently pulled her tray from her unsteady grasp. "I'll carry it to a table."
The table section was as crowded as the counter space. He did not offer to sit opposite her at the one vacant table he found; he lingered, however, casting about himself for another seat.
"May I not exchange my hospitality for your courtesy?" inquired the girl. She nodded toward the unoccupied chair and he sat down and thanked her.
She was an extremely self-possessed young woman, who surveyed him frankly with level gaze from her gray eyes.
"You performed very nicely, getting through that crush as you did without spilling anything," she commended.
"I've had plenty of practice."
She opened her eyes on him by way of a question. "Not as a waiter," he proceeded. "But with those trays in my hand it was like being on the drive, ramming my way through the gang that was charging the cook tent."
"The drive!" she repeated. He was surprised by the sudden interest he roused in her. "Are you from the north country?" Her color heightened with her interest. She leaned forward.
Latisan, in his infrequent experiences, had never been at ease in the presence of pretty girls, even when their notice of him was merely cursory. In the region where he had toiled there were few females, and those were spouses and helpers of woods cooks, mostly.
Here was a maid of the big city showing an interest disquietingly acute--her glowing eyes and parted lips revealed her emotions. At the moment he was not able to separate himself, as a personality, from the subject which he had brought up. Just what there was about him or the subject to arouse her so strangely he did not pause to inquire of himself, for his thoughts were not coherent just then; he, too, was stirred by her nearer propinquity as she leaned forward, questioning him eagerly.
He replied, telling what he was but not who he was; he felt a twinge of disappointment because she did not venture to probe into his identity. Her questions were concerned with the north country as a region. At first her quizzing was of a general