When Jim left the house it was with a troubled mind. He did not understand Marie; she was not fathomable by him. The evening’s zest of adventure lay cold within him.
Shortly after eight o’clock he drove away from the livery barn. As he drove past the Widow Stickney’s street he glanced toward the house and saw Michael Moran entering the yard. What he did not see was Marie Ducharme leaving by the back way, hurrying as though pursued, making her way to the edge of town and beyond—beyond until she arrived at the hummock where she and Jim had first spoken. And there she crouched, looking off to the southwest where a silver gleam of the great lake was visible between the trees. It grew darker, but she did not move; dew fell upon her shoulders, chilling her; the lake breeze penetrated her thin garments, but she replied only with a shiver. Her hands were clenched on her breast. “Help me! Help me!” she whispered her soul crying to a Power outside herself.
CHAPTER XIX
The moon lighted Jim Ashe to the spot where Tim Bennett and his company of lumberjacks waited. It must be confessed that Jim’s thoughts on the way had more to do with Marie Ducharme than with the enterprise of the night. He thought of Michael Moran, too; hoped in a vague sort of way that the night might bring him face to face with Moran in not peaceful circumstances, for he was young enough to feel the need of settling scores in a physical manner.
Bennett and the men were awaiting him impatiently, though he arrived a full half-hour before his time. They crowded about him, appraising him as a leader, for many of them had never seen him before. He satisfied them. Bennett had told them stories of Sudden Jim which they approved. The result was that they were willing, eager to follow wherever he might lead, careless of consequences to themselves.
“I worked for your dad,” shouted a huge Irishman. “Then you worked for a better man than I,” said Jim.
“It’s a proper son that admits the same,” replied the man.
“Boys,” said Jim, “we may have a tough job this night and we may have an easy one. We’ll figure it at its toughest. You came without knowing why you were coming. I’ll tell you. We’re going to seize the Diversity Hardwood Company’s logging railroad; we’re going to take charge of the rolling stock. We’re going to capture Camp One with all the logs we can get, and enough standing timber to cut what we need. There’s a fair gang in Camp One, but mostly Poles and Hunkies and Italians.”
“L’ave us at ’em!” bellowed the big Irishman. “Shut up and listen,” said Jim, sharply; and the Irishman grinned delightedly. That was the way to speak up to a man.
“The engine is in the roundhouse. Ten trucks stand on the siding near it. There are twenty more trucks at the landings by Camp One. Can anybody here run a locomotive?”