Stenzenberger sat down again. Henry, whose outbreak against the evils of society had stirred up, apparently, some pet feeling of bitterness, now sat moodily looking at the table.

“It’s about Roche, Cap’n,” Dick went on. “I had to leave him at Manistee.”

“Why?”

“He drinks too much for me – I couldn’t depend on him a minute. He bummed around up there, and got himself too shaky to be any use to me.”

Stenzenberger, with expressionless face, chewed his cigar. “What did you do for a mate?”

“Came down without one.”

“Have you found a man yet?”

“No – haven’t tried. I thought you might have some one you could suggest.”

“I don’t know. You ‘ll want to be starting up to Spencer’s place in a day or so.” He chewed his cigar thoughtfully for a moment, then dropped his voice. “There’s a man right here you might be able to use. Do you know McGlory?”

“No.”

“You do, Henry?”

“Yes, he was my mate for a year.”

“Well,” said Dick, “any man that suited Henry for a year ought to suit me.”

“You ‘ll find him a good, reliable man,” responded Henry, in an undertone. “He has a surly temper, but he knows all about a schooner.”

“Well, – if he’s anywhere around here now, we could fix it right up.”

Stenzenberger looked around. The woman had slipped out. “Madge,” he called; “Madge, my dear.”

She entered as quietly as before.

“Come in, my dear. You know Cap’n Smiley, don’t you?”

No, she didn’t.

“That’s a fact. He’s never seen in sample rooms. He sets up to be better than the rest of us; but I say, look out for him. And here’s his cousin, another Cap’n Smiley, the handsomest man on the Lakes.” Dick blushed at this. “Sit down a minute with us.”

She shook her head, and waited for him to come to the point.

“Where’s that man of yours, my dear? Is he anywhere around?”

“What is it you want of him?”

“I want him to know our young man here. I think they’re going to like each other. You tell him we want to see him.”

She hesitated; then with a suspicious glance around the group left the room.

In a moment McGlory appeared, a short, heavy-set man with high cheek-bones, a low, sloping forehead, and a curling black mustache. He nodded to Stenzenberger and Henry, and glanced at Dick.

“Joe,” said the lumber merchant, “shake hands with Cap’n Dick Smiley. He’s the best sailor between here and Buffalo, and the only trouble with him is we can’t get a mate good enough for him. A man’s got to know his business to sail with Dick Smiley. Ain’t that so, Henry?”

“I guess that’s right.”

“And Henry tells me you’re the man that can do it.”

This pleasantry had no visible effect on McGlory. He was looking Dick over.

“I don’t know about that, Cap’n. I promised Madge I’d give up the Lake for good.”

“The Cap’n here,” pursued Stenzenberger, “is going to start to-morrow or next day for Spencer, to take on a load of timber and shingles.” His small brown eyes were fixed intently on the saloon keeper as he talked. “And I think we ‘ll have to keep him running up there for a good part of the summer. Queer character, that Spencer,” he added, addressing Dick. “He has lived all his life up there in the pines. They say he was a squatter – never paid a cent for his land. But he has been there so many years now, I guess any one would have trouble getting him out. He has got an idea that his timber’s better than anybody else’s. He cuts it all with an old-fashioned vertical saw, and stamps his mark on every piece.”

“Why should it be any better?”

“I don’t know that it is, though he selects it carefully. The main thing is, he sells it dirt cheap, – has to, you know, to stand any show against the big companies. He’s so far out of the way, no boats would take the trouble to run around there if he didn’t. Well, McGlory, we’ve got a good thing to offer you. You can drop in here once a week or so, you know, to see how things are running. Come over to the office with us and we ‘ll settle the terms.” Stenzen-berger was rising as he spoke.

“Well, I don’t know. I couldn’t come over for a few minutes, Cap’n.”

“How soon could you?”

“About a quarter of an hour.”

“All right, we ‘ll be looking for you. Here, give me half a dozen ten cent straights while I’m here.”

McGlory walked to the door with them, and stood for a moment looking after them.

When he turned and pushed back through the swinging inner doors, he found Madge standing by the bar awaiting him, one hand held behind her, the other clenched at her side, her eyes shooting fire.

He paused, and looked at her without speaking.

“So you are going back to the Lake?” she said, everything about her blazing with anger except her voice – that was still quiet.

He was silent.

“Well, why don’t you answer me?”

“What’s all this fuss about, Madge? I haven’t gone yet.”

“Don’t try to put me off. Have you told them you would go back?”

“I haven’t told ‘em a thing. I’m going around in a minute to see the Cap’n, and we ‘ll talk it over then.”

“And you have forgotten what you promised me?”

“No, I ain’t forgot nothing. Look here, there ain’t no use o’ getting stagy about this. I ain’t told him I ‘ll do it. I don’t believe I will do it.”

“Why should you want to, Joe? Aren’t you happy here? Aren’t you making more money than you ever did on the Lake?”

“Why, of course.”

“Then why not stay here?”

“There’s only this about it,” he replied, leaning against the bar, and speaking in an off-hand manner; “Stenzenberger offers me the chance to do both. I could be in here every few days – see you most as much as I do now in a busy season – and make the extra pay clear.”

“Oh, that’s why you have been thinking you might do it?”

“Well, that’s the only thing about it that – ” He was wondering what was in her other hand. “You see, I can’t afford to get the Cap’n down on me.”

“You can’t? I should think he would be the one that couldn’t afford – ”

“Now see here, Madge.” He stepped up to her, and would have slipped his arm around her waist, but she eluded him. “I guess I ‘ll go over and see what he has to offer, and then I ‘ll come back, and you and me can talk it all over and see if we think – ”

“If we think!” she burst out. “Do you take me for a fool, Joe McGlory? Do you think for a minute I don’t know why you want to go – and why you mean to go? Look at that!” She produced a photograph of a pretty, foolish young woman, and read aloud the inscription on the back, “To Joe, from Estelle.”

An ugly look came into his eye. “I wouldn’t get excited about that kiddishness if I was you.”

“So you call it kiddishness, do you, and at your age?”

“Well, so long now, Madge. I ‘ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Joe – wait – don’t go off like that. Tell me that don’t mean anything! Tell me you aren’t ever going to see her again!”

“Sure, there’s nothing in it.”

“And you won’t see her?”

“Why, of course I won’t see her. She ain’t within five hundred miles of here. I don’t know where she is.”

“You ‘ll promise me that?”

“You don’t need to holler, Madge. I can hear you. Somebody’s likely to be coming in any minute, and what are they going to think?” He passed out into the back room, and she followed him.

“How soon will you be back, Joe?” She saw that he was putting on his heavy jacket – heavier than was needed to step over to the lumber office.

“Just a minute – that’s all.”

“And you won’t promise them anything?”

“Why, sure I won’t. I wouldn’t agree to anything before you’d had a look at it.”

He watched her furtively; and she stood motionless, trembling a little, ready at the slightest signal to spring into his arms. But he reached for his hat and went out.

She stood there, still motionless, until his step sounded on the front walk; then she ran upstairs and knelt by the window that overlooked the yards. She saw him enter the office. A few moments, and the two men who had been with Stenzenberger came out and walked away. A half-hour, and still Joe was in there with the lumber merchant. An hour – and then finally he appeared, glanced back at the saloon, and walked hurriedly around the corner out of sight. And she knew that he had slipped away from her. The photograph was still in her hand, and now she looked at it again, scornfully, bitterly.

A man entered the saloon below, and she did not hear him until he fell to whistling a music-hall tune. At something familiar in the sound a peculiar expression came over her face, and she threw the picture on the floor and hurried down. When she entered the sample room, her eyes were reckless.

The man was young, with the air of the commercial traveller of the better sort. He was seated at one of the tables, smoking a cigarette. His name was William Beveridge, but he passed here by the name of Bedloe.

“Hello, Madge,” he said; “what’s the matter – all alone here?”

“Yes; Mr. Murphy’s down town.”

“And McGlory – where’s he?”

“He’s out too.”

He looked at her admiringly. Indeed, she was younger and prettier, for the odd expression of her eyes.

“Well, I’m in luck.”

“Why?” she asked, coming slowly to the opposite side of the table and leaning on the back of a chair.

But in gazing at her he neglected to reply. “By Jove, Madge,” he broke out, “do you know you’re a beauty?”

She flushed and shook her head. Then she slipped down into the chair, and rested her elbows on the table.

“You’re the hardest person to forget I ever knew.”

“I guess you have tried hard enough.”

“No – I couldn’t get round lately – I’ve been too busy. Anyhow, what was the use? If I had thought I stood any show of seeing you, I would have come or broken something. But there was always Murphy or McGlory around.” He could not tell her his real object in coming, nor in avoiding the two proprietors, who had watched him with suspicion from the first. “Do you know, this is the first real chance you’ve ever given me to talk to you?”

“How did I know you wanted to?”

“Oh, come, Madge, you know better than that. How could anybody help wanting to? But” – he looked around – “are we all right here? Are we likely to be disturbed?”

“Why, no, not unless a customer comes in.”

“Isn’t there another room out back there where we can have a good talk?”

She shook her head slowly, with her eyes fixed on his face. And he, of course, misread the flush on her cheek, the dash of excitement in her eyes. And her low reply, too, “We’d better stay here,” was almost a caress. He leaned eagerly over the table, and said in a voice as low as hers: “When are you going to let me see you? There’s no use in my trying to stay away – I couldn’t ever do it. I’m sure to keep on coming until you treat me right – or send me away. And I don’t believe that would stop me.”

“Aren’t you a little of an Irishman, Mr. Bedloe?”

“Why?”

She smiled, with all a woman’s pleasure in conquest. “Why haven’t you told me any of these things before?”

“How could I? Now, Madge, any minute somebody’s likely to come in. I want you to tell me – can you ever get away evenings?”

“Of course I can, if I want to.”

“To-morrow?”

“Why?”

“There’s going to be a dance in the pavilion at St. Paul’s Park. Do you ride a wheel?” She nodded.

“It’s a first-rate ride over there. There’s a moon now, and the roads are fine. Have you ever been there?”

“No.”

“It’s out on the north branch – only about a four-mile run from here. We can start out, say, at five o’clock, and take along something to eat. Then, if we don’t feel like dancing, we can take a boat and row up the river.”

She rested her chin on her hands, and looked at him with a half smile. “Do you really mean all this, Mr. Bedloe?”

For reply, he reached over and took both her hands. “Will you go?”

“Don’t do that, please. Do you know how old I am?”

“I don’t care. What do you say?”

“Please don’t. I hear some one.”

“No, it’s a wagon. I want you to say yes.”

“You – you know what it would mean if – if – ”

“If McGlory – Yes, I know. You’re not afraid?”

Her face hardened for an instant at this, and then, as suddenly, softened. “No,” she said; “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“And you ‘ll go?”

She nodded.

“Shall I come here?”

“No, you’d better not.”

“Where shall we meet?”

“Oh – let me see – over just beyond the station. It’s quiet there.”

“All right. And I ‘ll get a lunch put up.”

“No – it’s easier for me to do that. I ‘ll bring something. And now go – please.”

He rose, and slipped around the table toward her.

“Don’t – you must go.”

And so he went, leaving her to gaze after him with a high color.