“No, I ain’t no coward, either,” he said, at last, interrupting his employer’s flow of invective. “But dynamitin’ other folks’ booms with the folks lookin’ at you ain’t laid down in a river-driver’s job; and I ain’t got any relish for nailin’ boot-heels all next summer in a jail workshop.”
“I’ll take the responsibility of this!” shouted Britt.
“Then you’d better do the job, sir,” suggested MacLeod, firmly. “Law has queer quirks, and I don’t propose to get mixed into it.”
There was no gainsaying the logic of the boss’s position. The Honorable Pulaski noted that the men had overheard. He noted also that there were no signs of any volunteers coming from the ranks. And so, with the impetuosity of his temper, when the eyes of men were upon him, he set his own hand to the job. With a cant-dog peak he began to pry at the box-cover.
And Colin MacLeod, hesitating a moment, walked straight up to Dwight Wade—to that young man’s discomposure, it must be confessed. Wade set his muscles to meet attack. But MacLeod halted opposite him, folded his arms, and gazed at him with something of appeal in his frank, gray eyes. There was candor in his look. In their other meetings Wade had only seen blind hate and unreasoning passion.
“Maybe you’ve got an idea that I’m a pretty cheap skate, Mr. Wade,” he blurted. “Maybe I am, but it ain’t been so between me and men unless there was women mixed in. My head ain’t strong where women is mixed in. You hold on and let me talk!” he cried, putting up his big hand. “I’ve got eleven hundred dollars in the bank that I’ve saved, my two hands, and a reputation of bein’ square between men. That’s all I’ve got, and I want to keep all three. I had you sized up wrong at the start. I mixed women in without any right to. I misjudged the cards as they laid. I used you dirty, and I got what was comin’ to me. Now I’ve found out. I know how things stand with you all along the line, from there”—he pointed south towards the outside world that held Elva Barrett—“to there on Enchanted. And I’m sorry! I’m sorry I ever got mistaken, and made things harder for a square man. You heard what I just said to Mr. Britt. I wanted you to hear it. All is, I’d like to shake hands with you and start fresh. It may have to be man to man between us yet on this river, but, by ——, for myself I want it man-fashion.”
He cast a glance behind him. Britt had the box open, and had dug out of the sawdust some cylinders in brown-paper wrappings. When MacLeod whirled again to face Wade the latter put out his hand without reservation in face or gesture. Months before, such amazing repentance and conversion might have astonished him, but now he understood the real ingenuousness of the woods. Pulaski Britt, hardened by avarice and outside associations, was not of the true life of the woods. This impulsive boy, with his mighty muscles and his tender heart, was of the woods, and only the woods.
MacLeod came one step nearer to Rodburd Ide, and pulled off his hat.
“If it ain’t too much trouble, Mr. Ide, I wish you’d tell Miss Nina that I’ve done it square and righted it fair. And don’t scowl at me that way, Mr. Ide! It was a dream—and I’ve woke up! It was a pretty wild dream—and a man does queer things in his sleep. Your girl ain’t for me or my kind, and I know it, now that I’ve woke up. I’d like to tell her so, and explain, but I don’t know how to do it, Mr. Ide. You do it for me. I ask you man-fashion!”
He started away from them hastily, strode back to the bateaux, and began to swear at the men who had stopped work to gaze on the Honorable Pulaski. The latter had already embarked in a bateau, carrying several of those ominous sticks wrapped in their brown-paper cases.