The Gold Trail | Page 4

gangs as a rule work hard and live well; and when
the cans of green tea had been emptied the growls culminated in a call
for the cook.
He came forward and stood before them, a little, shaky, gray-haired
wreck of a man, with the signs of indulgence plain upon him. Whisky

is scarce in that country, but it is obtainable, and Grenfell generally
procured a good deal of it. The man was evidently in a state of
apprehension, and he shrank back a little when a big, grim-faced
chopper ladled out a great plateful of the burnt stew from a vessel on
the stove.
"Now," he said, "you've been spoiling supper too often lately, and I
guess we've got to teach you plain, cookery. Sit right down and get that
hash inside you."
The man protested that he had had his supper before they came in;
whereupon the other seized him by the shoulders and thrust him down
roughly into a seat at the table.
"Well," he said, "you've got to have a little more. If it's good enough for
us, boys, it's not going to hurt him."
There was a murmur of concurrence when he looked around at the rest;
and the cook, seeing no help for it, made a valiant attempt to eat a little
of the greasy mess. Then he revolted from it and glanced at his
companions supplicatingly.
"I can't do it, boys. You'll let me off?" he pleaded.
None of the rest showed any sign of relenting. They were inclined to be
pitiless then, and the rude justice of the chopper's idea appealed to
them.
"When you've cleaned up that plate," said one.
The victim made a second futile attempt, and, after waiting some
minutes for him to proceed, they decided that it was too hot in the shed,
so, conveying him outside, they seated him on a great fir stump sawed
off several feet above the ground, with the plate beside him. Then they
took out their pipes and sat around to enjoy the spectacle. As a rule
there is very little cruelty in men of their kind; but they were very
human, and the cook had robbed them of a meal somewhat frequently
of late. Besides, they had smarted all day under Cassidy's bitter tongue,

and they felt that they must retaliate upon somebody. No one said
anything for several minutes, and then the big chopper once more
approached his victim.
"Now," he said, "since you have to go through with it, you may as well
start in. If you don't, I'll put the blame stuff down your throat."
It was, perhaps, no more than justice, for the cook was paid well; but
there was one man in the assembly to whom this did not altogether
appeal. The victim was frail and helpless, a watery-eyed, limp bundle
of nerves, with, nevertheless, a pitiful suggestion of outward dignity
still clinging to him, though his persecutors would have described him
aptly as a whisky tank. The former fact was sufficient for Weston, who
did not stop to think out the matter, but rose and strode quietly toward
the fir stump.
"I think this thing has gone far enough, boys. You'll have to let him
off," he said.
"No, sir," said the big chopper. "He's going right through. Anyway, it's
not your trouble. Light out before we rope you in too."
Weston did not move until three or four more strode forward hastily,
when he stooped for an ax that lay handy and swung it round his head.
It came down with a crash on the plate, and the hash was scattered over
the withered redwood twigs. Then, while a growl expressive of
astonishment as well as anger went up, the chopper scraped up part of
the stew with red soil and fir twigs mixed in it.
"He has got to eat it, and then I'll tend to you. You'll see that they don't
get away, boys," he said.
Weston clearly had no intention of attempting to do so, and the cook
would have found it hopeless, for the rest closed round the stump in a
contracting ring. While they knew that Cassidy had been summoned to
Stirling's car, they were unaware that there were other spectators of the
little drama. Two young women had, however, just emerged from
among the towering firs that hemmed in the muskeg. One was attired

elaborately in light garments and a big hat that appeared very much out
of place in that aisle of tremendous forest, but there was a difference
between her and her companion. The latter knew the bush, and was
dressed simply in a close-fitting robe of gray. She held herself well, and
there was something that suggested quiet imperiousness in her attitude
and expression. This was, perhaps, not