Without another protesting word, Kollock turned meekly and obeyed.
CHAPTER XII. THE TEST
Before he had taken a dozen steps, Kollock was furious with himself, and by the time Bainbridge was out of sight the wrath of the riverman had risen to a white heat.
From the first he had tried to dislike Bainbridge. Pete Schaeffer had been his friend, and after he had been whipped Curly made up his mind that there could be no getting along in a crew bossed by the victor. Then came that brief but pointed interview with Bob which affected him so oddly. He had never before had anybody tell him that he was to be trusted; most bosses had been emphatic in saying the opposite thing. Or, if they kept silent, they showed in a dozen obvious ways that they considered him in the same class with his notorious brother.
Then there was the incident of the day before. Curly could not help admiring the manner in which Bainbridge had handled the crowd that was trying to hold up the drive. It was exactly the sort of thing he would like to have done himself, and his heart warmed toward the man with the courage and ability to act in that fashion. Moreover, Jack Joyce was an old enemy of his, and the sight of the fellow’s humiliation had inclined the riverman even more strongly toward the man who had brought it about.
But that was over now, he told himself furiously as he stamped along the stream, hands clenched and face set in a black scowl. He hated Bainbridge! The man had no right to jump on him that way. How did he know what had been the cause of Kollock’s behavior? He had asked no questions, given Curly no chance to explain even had the latter been inclined to lower himself to that extent. He had taken it for granted that the river jack was loafing in spite of the fact that record as a worker was equal to that of the best.
This was where the sting lay. Kollock was aggrieved and disgruntled because of what was, to him, a very good reason. There had been a definite object in his pause by that stone. The night before he had received a brief note from Bill, in which he was urged to “make use of any chance you git to do—you know what.”
Curly did know “what” very well. It meant that he was to thwart and delay the progress of the drive by any means in his power. Any means! The simplest, of course, was to cause some to happen to Bainbridge himself. Bill had not hesitated to suggest several ways by which this happy end could be reached. None of them appealed particularly to Curly. He was not overscrupulous, but he disliked doing up a man in cold blood without giving him even a ghost of a show. Still, Bill had done him good turns more than once when he was out of work; and, last but not least, there was the financial side of the affair. Curly had never been told who or what was back of these attacks on the independent lumber company, but he knew there was plenty of money in it.
All this he had been thinking over as he sat smoking that cigarette. In the end he decided to have nothing to do with it. Bainbridge had trusted him and played square. For that reason he would be equally square and aboveboard, and let this dirty work alone.
That was what he had decided, but now——