Jasper County Democrat, Volume 6, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 February 1904 — The Blazed Trail [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Blazed Trail

By STEWART EDWARD WHITE

SYNOPSIS TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chaptkh I—Morrison & Daly, lumbermen on the Saffanaw waters of Michigan, drive a hard bargain with Radway. a contractor. II and lll—Harry Thorpe, having left his dependent sister Heieu, at service, tries for work at Morrison & Daly’s, fails and takes a job at chorine until he can go to Radway’s camp IV—Thorpe at Railway’s making lumber road. The men attempt basing. Thorpe puts on the gloves and knocks out the champion. V and Vl—Radwpy running behind owing to slack management. Thorpe a “swamper. ’ Death of bisonum, Paul. The men “chip in for the widow.” Radway goes home for Christmas, leaving Dyer, the scaler, in charge. VII and Vlll—Long delay waiting for roads to freeze. Thorpe hurt and sent to Sisters’ hospital. Radway fails Thorpe out of work.

CHAPTER VIII. 373 HEN Thorpe finally came to UUI himself he was in a long, Wl I bright, clean room, and the sunset was throwing splashes of light on the celling over his head. He watched them idly for a time, then turned on his pillow. At once he perceived a long, double row of clean white painted iron beds, on which lay or sat figures of men. Other figures of women glided here and there noiselessly. They wore long, spreading dove gray clothes, with a starched white kerchief drawn over their shoulders and across the breast. Their heads were quaintly white-garbed In stiff winglike coifs, fitting close about the oval of the face. Then Thorpe sighed comfortably and closed his eyes and blessed the chance that he had bought a hospital ticket of the agent who had visited camp the month before. For these were sisters, and the young man lay in the hospital of St. Mary. Like a great many other charities bnilt on a common sense, self supporting, rational basis, the woods hospitals

gre under the Roman Catholic church. From one of the numerous agents who periodically visit the camps the lumber jack purchases for $8 a ticket which admits him at any time during the year to the hospital, where he is privileged to remain free of further charge until convalescent. So valuable are these institutions and so excellently are they maintained by the sisters that a hospital agent is always welcome even in those camps from which ordinary peddlers and insurance men are rigidly excluded. In one of these hospitals Thorpe lay for six weeks suffering from a severe concussion of the brain. At the end of the fourth his fever had broken, but he was pronounced as yet too weak to be moved. The roofs were covered with snow. One day Thorpe saw it sink into itself and gradually run away. The tinkle tinkle tank tank of drops sounded from his own eaves. Down the faroff river siuggish reaches of ice drifted. Then in a night the blue disappeared from the Btream. It became a menacing gray, and even from his distance Thorpe could catch the swirl of its rising waters. A day or two later dark 'masses drifted or shot across the field of his vision, and twice he thought he distinguished men standing upright and bold on single logs as they rushed down the current “What is the date?” he asked of the sister. “The elevens of March.” “Isn’t it early for the thaw?” “Listen to Mm!” exclaimed the sister delightedly. “Early, is it! Sure th’ freshet eo’t them all. Look, darlint; ye can see the drive from here.” “I see,” said Thorpe wearily. “When can I get out?” “Not for wan week,” replied the sister decidedly. At the end of the week Thorpe said goodby to his attendant. He took two days of tramping the little town to regain the use of his legs and boarded the morning train for Beeson Lake. He did not pause in the village, but bent his steps to the river trail. He followed the trail by the Hver. Butterballs and scotpra paddled up at his approach. Bits of rotten ice occasionally swirled down the diminishing stream. Around every bend Thorite looked for some of Rad way's crew “driving” the logs down the current. Be knew from chance eneosmteia with several of the men ip Bar Cltr that

Radway was still in camp, "which meant, of course, that the season’s operations were not finished. Five miles farther Thorpe began to wonder whether this last conclusion might not be erroneous. The Cass branch had shrunken almost to its original limits. The drive must have been finished even this early, for the stream in its present condition would hardly float saw logs. Thorpe, puzzled, walked on. At the banking ground he found empty skids. Evidently the drive was over. And yet even to Thorpe’s ignorance it seemed incredible that the remaining million and a half of logs had been hauled, banked and driven during the short time he had lain In the Bay City hospital. More to solve the problem than In any hope of work he set out for the logging road. Another three miles brought him to camp. It looked strangely wet and sodden and deserted. In fact, Thorpe found a bare half dozen people in it— Radway, the cook and four men who were helping to pack up the movables. The jobber showed strong traces of the strain he had undergone, but greeted Thorpe almost jovially. “Hello, young man!” he shouted at Thorpe's mud splashed figure. “Come back to view the remains? All well again, heigh? That's good!” “I didn't know you were through,” explained Thorpe, “and I came to see if I could get a job.” “Well, now, 1 am sorry!” cried Radway. “You can turn in and help, though, if you want to.” Thorpe greeted the cook and old Jackson Hines, the only two whom he knew, and set to work to tie up bundles of blankets and to collect axes, peavies and tools of all descriptions. That evening the seven dined together at one end of the long table. The big room exhaled already the atmosphere of desertion. “Not much like old times. Is she?” laughed Radway. “Can't you just shut your eyes and hear Baptiste say, ‘Mak’ heem de soup one turn more for me?’ She’s pretty empty now.” Jackson Hines looked whimsically down the bare board. “More room than God made for geese in Ireland,” was his comment.

After supper they sat outside for a little time to smoke their pipes, chair tilted against the logs of the cabins, but soon the chill of melting snow drove them indoors. The four teamsters played seven up in the cook camp by the light of a barn lantern, while Thorpe and the cook wrote letters. Thorpe's was to his sister. “I have been in the hospital for about a month,” he wrote. “Nothing serious—a crack on the head, which is all right now. But I cannot get home this summer, nor. I am afraid, can we arrange about the school this year. I am about S7O ahead of where I was last fall, so you see it is slow business. This summer I am going into a mill, but the wages fo* green labor are not very high there either,” and so on. When Miss Helen Thorpe, aged seventeen, received this document she stamped her foot almost angrily. “You’d think he was a day laborer!” she cried. “Why doesn’t he try for a clerkship or something in the city where he'd have a chance to use his brains?”

And thus she came to feeling rebeliiously that her brother had been a little selfish in his choice of an occupation: that be had sacrificed her inclinations to his own. After finishing the letter Thorpe lit his pipe and strolled out into the darkness. Opposite the little office he stopped amazed. Through the narrow window he could see Radway seated in front of the stove. He had sunk down into his chair until he rested on almost the small of his back, his legs were stuck straight out in front of him, his chin reßted on his breast, and his two arms bung listless at his side, a pipe half falling from the fingers of one hand. All the facetious lines had turned to pathos. “What’s the matter with the boss, anyway?” asked Thorpe in a low voice of Jackson Hines when the seven up game was finished. “Hain’t ye heard?” inquired the old man in surprise. “Why. no. What?” “Busted,” said the old men sententiously. “How? What do yon mean?” “What I say. He’s busted., That freshet caught him too quick. They’s more than a million and a half logs left in the woods that can’t be got out this year, and as bis contract calls for a finished Job be don’t get nothin’ for what he’s done.” v “That’s a queer rig,” commented Thorpe. “He’s done a lot of valuable work here. The timber’s cut and skidded anyway, and he’s delivered a good deal of it to the main drive. The M. St D. outfit get all the advantage of that” “They do, my son. When old Daly’s hand gets near anything it cramps. I don’t know how the old man come to make 6uch a contrac’, but he did. Result is he’s out hia expenses and time.” The exceptionally early break up of the spring, combined with the fact that owing to the series of Incidents and accidents already sketched the actual cutting and skidding had fallen so

* far behind, caught ftadway unawares. He saw the roll ways breaking out while his teams were still hauling in the woods. In order to deliver to the mouth of the Casa branch the 3,000,000 already banked he was forced to drop everything else and attend strictly to the drive. This left still, as has been stated,“TT million and a half on skidways, which Radway knew be would be unable to get out that year, j In spite of the Jobber’s certainty that his claim was thus annulled and that he might ns well abandon the enterprise entirely for all he would ever get out of It, he finished the “drive” eonI scientiously and saved to the company ■ the logs already banked. Then he had \ Interviewed Daly. The latter refused to pay him one cent. The next day Radway and Thorpe walked the ten miles of the river trail together, while the teamsters and ’be cook drove down the five teams. Under the Influence of the solitude and a certain sympathy which Thorpe manifested Radway talked—a very little. | “I got behind; that’s all there is to l j it,” he said. “I bit off more than I ' could chew.” i Thorpe noticed a break In the man’s voice aud, glancing suddenly toward him, was astounded to catch his eyes brimming with tears. liadway perceived the surprise. “You know’ w’hen I left Christmas?” he asked, j “Yes.” “The boys thought it w’as a mighty poor rig—my leaving that way.” He paused again in evident expectation of a reply. Again Thorpe was silent. j “Didn’t they?” Radway insisted. “Yes, they did,” answered Thorpe. The older man sighed. “1 thought so,” he went on. “Well, I didn't go to spend Christmas. I went because Jimi my brought me a telegram that Lida was sick with diphtheria. I sat up nights with her for eleven days.” “No bad after effects, I hope?” inquired Thorpe. “She died,” said Radway simply.

CHAPTER IX. w f7jr3'l ADWAY,” said he suddenly, llw 1 "1 nt>ed utoney. and I need it IVI bad. I think you ought to get something out of this job of the M. & D.—not much, but something. Will you give me a share of what I can collect from them?" “Sure!” agreed the jobber readily, with a laugh. "Sure! But you won’t get anything. I’ll give you 10 per cent quick!" “Good enough!” cried Thorpe. "Now, when we.get to town I want your power of attorney and a few figures, after which I will not bother you again.” The next day the young man called for the second time at the little red paintt>d office under the shadow of the mill and for the second time stood before the bulky power of the junior member of the firm.

“Well, young man, what can I do for you?” asked the latter. “I have been informed,” said Thorpe without preliminary, "that you intend to pay John Itadway nothing for the work done in the Cass branch this winter. Is that true?" Daly studied his antagonist meditatively. “If it is true what is it to you?” he asked at length.. "I am acting in Mr. Radway's interest.” “You are one of Radway's men?” “Yes.” “In what capacity have you been working for him?” “Cant book man.” replied Thorpe briefly. “I see,” said Daly slowly. Then suddenly, with an intensity of energy that startled Thorpe, he cried: “Now, you get out of here! Right off! Quick!” The young man recognized the compelling and autocratic boss addressing a member of the crew. “I shall do nothing of the kind!” he replied, with a flash of fire. The mill owner leaped to his feet. Thorpe did not wish to bring about an actual scene of violence, pe had attained his object, which was to fluster the other. “I have Radway’s power of attorney,” he added. Daly sat down, controlled himself with an effort and growled out, “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Now, I would like ta know your position,” went on Thorpe. “I am not here to make trouble, but as an associate of Mr. Radway I have a right to understand the case. Of course I have his side of the story.” be suggested, as though convinced that a detailing of the other side might change his views. Daly considered carefully, fixing bis flint blue eyes unswervingly on Thorpe's face. Evidently his scrutiny

advised him that the young man was a force to be reckoned with. “It’s like this,” he said abruptly; “we contracted last fall with this man Radway to put In 5,000,000 feet of our timber, delivered to the main drive at the mouth of the Cass branch. In this he was to act independently, except as to J the matter of provisions. Those he drew from our van and was debited with the amount of the same. Is that clear?” “Perfectly,” replied Thorpe. “In return we were to pay him, merchantable scale, $4 a thousand. If, however, he failed to put in the whole Job the contract was void.” “That’s how I understand it,” commented Thorpe. “Well?” “Well, he didn’t get In the 5,000.000. There’s a million and a half hung up In the woods.” “Hut you have in your hands three million and a half, which under the present arrangement you get free of any charge whatever.” “And we ought to get It,” cried Daly. “Great guns! Here we intend to saw this summer and quit. We want to get In. every stick of timber we own so as to be able to clear out of here for good and all at the close of the season, und now this condigned jobber ties us up for a million and a half.” “It is exceedingly , annoying,” conceded Thorpe, “and it is a good deal of Radway’s fault, I am willing to admit, but it’s your fault too.” “To be sure,” replied Daly, with the accent of sarcasm.

“You had no business entering into any such contract. It gave him no show.” “I suppose that was mainly his lookout, wasn't it? And. as I already told you, we had to protect ourselves.” “You should have demanded security for the completion of the work. Under your present agreement, if Radway got in the timber, you were to pay him a fair price. If he didn’t, you appropriated everything he had already done. In other words, you made him a bet.” “I don’t care wliat you call it,” answered Daly, who had recovered his good humor in contemplation of the security of his position. “The fact stands all right.” “It does,” said Thorpe unexpectedly, “and I’m glad of it. Now, let’s examine a few figures. You owned 5.000,000 feet of timber, which at the price of stumpage” (standing trees) “was worth $10,000.” “Well?” • “You come out at the end of the season with three million and a half of saw logs, which witli the $4 worth of logging added ate worth $21,000.” “Hold on!” cried Daly. “We paid Radway $4. We could have done it ourselves for less.” “You could not have done It for one cent less than four-twenty in that country,” replied Thorpe, "as an expert will testify.” “Why did we give It to Radway at four then?” “Y'ou saved the expense of a salaried Overseer and yourselves some bother,” replied Thorpe. “Radway could do it for less because, for some strange reason which you yourself do not understand; a jobber can always log for lfss than a company.” “We could have done it for four,” insist'd Daly stubbornly. "But get on. What are you driving at? My time's valuable.”

“Well, put her at four, then.” agreed Thorpe. “That makes your saw logs worth over $31,000. Of tins value Radway added $13,000. You have appropriated that much of his without paying him one cent.” Daly seemed amused. “How about the million and a half feet of ours he appropriated?” he asked quietly. “I’m coming to that. Now for your losses. At the stumpage rate your million and a half which Radway ‘ap propriated’ would be only three thousand. But for the sake of argument we’ll take the actual sum you'd have received for saw logs. Even then the million and a half would only have been worth between eight and nine thousand. Deducting this purely theoretical loss Radway has occasioned you from the amount he has gained for you. you are still some four or five thousand ahead of the game. For that you paid him nothing.” “That's Radway’s lookout.” “In Justice you should pay him that amount. He is a poor man. • He has sunk all he owned in this venture, some $12,000, and he has nothing to live on. Even if you pay him five thousand, he has lost considerable, while you have gained.” “How have we gained by this bit of philanthropy?” “Because you originally paid in cash for all that timber on the stump just SIO,OOO. and you get from Radway saw logs to the value of $20,000,” replied Thorpe sharply. “Besides, you still own the million and a half which, if you do not care to put them in yourself, you can sell for something on the skids.”

“Don't you know, young man, that white pine logs on skids will spoil utterly in a summer? Worms get into ’em.” “I do,” replied Thorpe, “unless you bark them, which process will cost you about $1 a thousand. You can find any amount of small purchasers at reduced price. You can sell them easily at $3. That nets you for your million and a half a little over $4,000 more. Under the circumstances I do not think that my request for five thousand is at all exorbitant.” Daly laughed. “You are a shrewd figurer, and your remarks are interesting," said be. “Will you give $5,000?” asked Thorpe. “I will not,” replied Daly: then, with a sudden change of hnmor: “And now I'll do a little talking. I’ve listened to you just about as long as I’m going to. I have Radway’s contract in that safe, and I live up to 11 I’ll thank you to go plumb to blazes!”.

“That’s your last word, is it?” asked Thorpe, rising. “It is.” “Then,” said he slowly and distinctly, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I Intend to collect in full the $4 a thousand for the three millions and a half Mr. Radway has delivered to you. In return Mr. Radwny will purchase of you at the I stumpage rates of $2 a thousand the million and a half ho failed to put ! in. That makes a bill against you, if iny figuring is correct, of just sll,000. You will pay- that bill, nnd I will | tell you why.* Your contract will be classed in any court as a gambling contract for lack of consideration. You have no legal standing in the world. I call your bluff, Mr. Daly, and I’ll fight you from the drop of the hat through every court in Christendom.” “Fight ahead,” advised Daly sweetly, who knew perfectly well that Thorpe’s law was faulty. As a matter of fact, the young man could have collected on other grounds, but neither was 1 aware of that. I “Furthermore,” pursued Thorpe In 1 addition, “I'll repeat my offer before j witnesses, and if I win the first suit j I'll sue you for the money we could I have made by purchasing the extra i million and a half before it had a i chance to spoil.” This -statement had its effect, for it forced an immediate settlement before the pine on the skids should deteriorate. Daly lounged back with a little more | deadly carelessness. ‘JAnd, lastly,” concluded Thorpe, playing liis trump card, “the suit from start to finish will he published in every important paper in this country. If you do not believe I have the influence to do tins you arc at liberty to doubt the fact.” Daly was cogitating many things. He knew that publicity was the last thing to be desired. Thorpe's statement had been made in view of the fact that much of the business of a tpmber firm is done on credit. He thought that perhaps a rumor of a big ! suit going against the firm might weaken confidence. As a matter of fact, this consideration had no weight whatever with the older man, although the threat of publicity actually gained for Thorpe what he demanded. The ! lumberman feared the noise of an in- | vestigation solely and simply because ! his firm, like so many others, was engaged at the time in stealing government timber in the upper peninsula. He did not call it stealing, but that was what it amounted to. Thorpe’s shot in the air hit full. “I think we can arrange a basis of settlement," he said finally. “Be here tomorrow morning at 10 with Radway.” “Very well,” said Thorpe. “By the way,” remarked Daly, “I don’t believe I know your name.” "Thorpe,” was the reply.

“Well, Mr. Thorpe,” said the lum- , berrnan, with cold ahger, “if at any time there is anything within my power or influence that you want I’ll see I that you don’t get It.” ; The whole affair was finally compromised for SO,OOO. Radway, grateful I beyond expression, insisted on Thorpe’s acceptance of an even thousand, and i with this money in hand the latter felt ! justified In taking a vacation for the purpose of visiting his sister. For the purposes he had in view j SSOO would be none too much. The remaining SSOO he hud resolved to invest in his sister’s comfort and happiness. ! He had thought the matter over and i had gradually evolved what seemed to him an excellent plan. He had already perfected it by correspondence with Mrs. Renwick. It was, briefly, this: He, Thorpe, would at once hire a servant I girl, who would make anything but supervision unnecessary in so small a I household. The remainder of the money he had already paid for a year’s tuition in the seminary of the town. ! Thus Helen gained her leisure and an j opportunity for study and still retain|ed her home in case of reverse. * (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“I see," said Thorpe wearily.

The mill owner leaped to his feet.