The excitement died down somewhat when it was discovered that the master of the Nannabijou camps was not on board. Had he been, his first utterance no doubt would have been to pass the honours for settling the strike to Hon. J. J. Slack, M.P., president of the North Star.
In the crowd leaving the tug’s gang-plank Gildersleeve glimpsed the short, corpulent figure of Artemus Duff, president of the Kam City Pulp and Paper Mills, hurrying toward him. Duff looked a bit mussed up from the trip over, but his round, fat face was beaming.
III
Duff came forward and grasped the extended hand of Gildersleeve. “Thought I’d run over and be first to break the good news to you, Norman,” he puffed. “The North Star gang had to come to their oats.”
“So I see,” observed Gildersleeve. “Did you get any of the inside particulars, Duff?”
“No, not a great deal. Slack made the announcement to the tugmen that the company would meet their demands if they would immediately return to their boats, and followed up with a windy speech about his own efforts in their behalf. Guess he received his orders from the big fellows that own him body and soul.”
“They saw at last that their cake was dough,” commented Gildersleeve quietly. “They could not have held out much longer with their obvious trickery, for to-morrow would have seen a fiat issued from the attorney-general’s department enjoining the North Star to make immediate settlement of the strike and delivery of the poles. Oh, by the way, Duff, did you think to wire Duluth cancelling the order for those tugs?”
“Winch looked after that,” informed the other.
“Good. I only hope the wire arrived before the fleet set out. Gad, Duff, this was a master stroke of ours,” he spoke up emphatically. “I’ve nailed the North Star’s hide on the door inside out. It’s the beginning of the end for that iniquitous gang of commercial cut-throats. Few people realise that the culmination of this strike and the subsequent delivery of those poles in the bay yonder writes the final chapter in dark history that goes back to the beginning of things on this North Shore. Once our mills at Kam City are in full operation, with sufficient poles piled in the yards to keep them running six months, we will have completed our covenant with the government. Then watch me crush the North Star and all its brazen subsidiaries!”
Gildersleeve paused in his pacing, proffered Duff a cigar and lit one himself. He struck a Napoleonic attitude as he swept his arm from south to north. “All this North Shore and its great potential wealth will soon again be under my absolute domination,” he predicted. “With this limits and the mills we will soon reduce the North Star’s power and prestige to a point where they will be glad to surrender their lake fleet and equipment for their price as junk. Their costly mill without machinery will help to sink them and sink them fast. Nothing now can prevent our complete victory.”