THE BOSS OF CAMP TWO
Slue Foot Magee, who was to boss Camp Two, was a man of ambling gait and
a chronic grumble. He arrived with the vanguard of the new crew a
half-hour before dinner time, grumbled because grub wasn't ready,
growled when he learned that the buildings at Camp Two were not entirely
completed, and fumed because Hurley had told him to leave fifteen of his
fifty men at Camp One.
"What's the use of pickin' out a crew an' then scatterin' 'em all over
the woods?" he demanded querulously of Connie, as they stood in the door
of the boss's camp while the men washed up for dinner. "If Hurley wants
thirty-five men in Camp Two an' fifty in Camp One why don't he send Camp
One's crew up to Two an' leave me have Camp One?"
"I don't know," answered the boy, and refrained from mentioning that he
was mighty glad Hurley had not ordered it so.
Slue Foot slanted him a keen glance. "Be you the kid Hurley was tellin'
nailed them I. W. W.'s that he was fetchin' out of the woods when we
come in this mornin'?"
Connie nodded: "Yes, Saginaw Ed and I caught 'em."
"Purty smart kid, hain't you? What's Hurley payin' you?"
"Forty dollars a month."
"An' no rake-off on the wanagan. There's plenty room in the woods to use
brains--same as anywheres else." Slue Foot turned at the sound of the
dinner gong. "Let's go eat while there's some left. When we come back
I'll give you the names."
During the meal Connie furtively studied the new boss. He was fully as
large as Hurley, and slovenly in movement and appearance. His restless
eyes darted swift glances here, there, and everywhere, and never a
glance but registered something of disapproval. But it was the man's
words that most interested the boy. Why had he asked what Hurley was
paying him? And what did he mean by his observation that there was no
rake-off on the wanagan? Also, there was his reference to the fact that
in the woods there was plenty of room for brains. That might mean
anything or nothing.
"At any rate," thought the boy, as he attacked his food, "you're going
to be a pretty good man to throw in with--for a while."
Presently the man pushed back his bench and arose: "If you ever git that
holler in under yer ribs filled up we'll go over an' I'll give you the
names of the men that stays here an' the ones that goes on with me."
"'Lead on, MacDuff,'" grinned Connie, misquoting a line from a play
Waseche Bill had taken him to see in Fairbanks.
"Magee's my name," corrected the man gruffly, and led the way to the
office.
It was only after much deliberation and growling that Slue Foot finally
succeeded in rearranging his crew, but at last the task was completed
and Connie leaned back in his chair.
"So you think there ain't going to be any rake-off on the wanagan?" he
asked, as the man sat scowling at his list of names. Slue Foot glanced
up quickly and the boy met the glance with a wink: "I thought maybe----"
"It don't make no difference what you thought mebbe!" the man
interrupted. "If you know'd Hurley like I do you'd know a whole lot
better'n to try it." Connie looked disappointed and the boss eyed him
intently.
"They's other ways of killin' a cat without you choke him to death on
butter," he observed drily, and lapsed into silence while the restless
gimlet eyes seemed to bore into the boy's very thoughts.
Suddenly the man brought his fist down with a bang upon the top of the
pine desk: "Why should Hurley be drawin' down his big money, an' me an'
you our seventy-five an' forty a month?" he demanded.
"Well, he's the boss, and they say he can get out the logs."
"I'm a boss, too! An' I kin git out the logs!" he roared. "I was bossin'
camps when Hurley was swampin'." Again he paused and regarded the boy
shrewdly. "Mind you, I hain't sayin' Hurley hain't a good logger, 'cause
he is. But jest between me and you there's a hull lot about this here
timber game that he hain't hep to. Any one kin draw down wages workin'
in the woods--but if you want to make a real stake out of the game
you've got to learn how to play both ends ag'in' the middle. An' that's
where the brains comes in."
"That's why I thought----"
"--you could soak it to 'em on the wanagan an' shove the rake-off in
your pocket," finished the man. "Well, you'd better fergit it! Some
bosses would stand fer it, but not Hurley. He'd tumble to yer game in a
minute, an' you'd be hikin' down the tote road with yer turkey on yer
back a-huntin' a new job."
"Do you mean there's nothing in it for me but my forty dollars a month?"
asked Connie, with apparent disgust.
"M-m-m-m, well, that depends," muttered Slue Foot. "Be you goin' to keep
the log book, or Hurley?"
"I am. He told me the other day he'd show me about that later."
"They'll be a little somethin', mebbe, in shadin' the cut when the time
comes--nothin' big, but enough to double our wages. Wait 'til the crew
gits strung out an' layin' 'em down an' we'll fix that up."
"Will the scaler throw in with us?" ventured the boy.
"What! Lon Camden! Not on yer life, he won't! Hurley picked him, an' he
picked Saginaw Ed, too. What you an' me do we got to do alone."
Connie smiled: "Yes, but he picked you, and he picked me, too."
"He did," agreed the other, with a leer. "I don't know nawthin' about
why he picked you, but he give me a job 'cause he thinks I done him a
good turn onct. Over in Idaho, it was, an' we was gittin' out logs on
the Fieldin' slope. Old Man Fieldin' had a contrac' which if he didn't
fill it by a certain day, he'd lose it, an' the Donahue crowd that was
operatin' further down would deliver their logs an' take over the
contrac'. That's when I got it in fer Hurley. Him an' me was working fer
Fieldin' an' he made Hurley boss of a camp he'd ort to give to me.
"The Donahue crowd worked politics an' got holt of the water rights on
Elk Creek, an' Fieldin' couldn't float his logs. It looked like it was
good-night fer Fieldin' an' his contrac' but Hurley grabbed all the men
he could git holt of an' started buildin' a flume. Old Man Fieldin' said
it couldn't be done, but fer Hurley to go ahead, 'cause he was ruint
anyhow. So Hurley worked us night and day, an' by gosh, he built the
flume an' got his logs a-runnin'!
"When the flume was up the Donahues seen they was beat, so they come to
me an' offered me a bunch of coin if I'd blow it up. It was resky 'cause
Hurley was expectin' some such play, an' he had it guarded. But I got on
guardin' nights an' I planted the dynamite and got the wires strung, an'
it was all set. Then I went an' overplayed my hand. I thought I seen the
chanct to git even with Hurley, as well as Old Man Fieldin', an' make me
a nice little stake besides. So I tips it off to Hurley that I seen a
fellow sneakin' around suspicious an' he'd better take the shift where
I'd be'n, hisself. You see, I made it up with the Donahues to send three
of their men over to explode the shot so I'd have a alibi, an' I
figgered that Hurley'd run onto 'em, an' they'd give him an' awful
lickin'." The man paused and crammed tobacco into his pipe.
"And did he?" asked Connie, eagerly
"Naw, he didn't he!" growled the man. "He run onto 'em all right--an'
when the rookus was over the hull three of 'em was took to the
horspital. When it comes to mixin' it up, Hurley, he's there. He found
the dynamite, too, an' after that the guards was so thick along that
flume that one couldn't do nawthin' without the next ones could see what
he was up to.
"Fieldin's logs was delivered on time an' the old man handed Hurley a
check fer twenty-five hundred dollars over an' above his wages. Hurley
slipped me five hundred fer tellin' him--but I'd of got five thousan' if
I'd of blow'd up the flume. I had to skip the country 'fore them three
got out of the horspital, an' I've swore to git even with Hurley ever
since--an' I'll do it too. One more winter like last winter, an' they
won't no outfit have him fer a boss."
It was with difficulty Connie refrained from asking what had happened
last winter but he was afraid of arousing the man's suspicion by
becoming too inquisitive, so he frowned: "That's all right as far as
your getting even with Hurley, but it don't get me anything."
Slue Foot leaned forward in his chair: "I see you've got yer eye on the
main chanct, an' that shows you've got somethin' in your noodle. Folks
can talk all they want to, but the only thing that's any good is money.
Them that's got it is all right, an' them that hain't got it is nowhere.
Take Hurley, he's got the chanct to make his everlastin' stake right
here, an' he's passin' it up. The owner of this here trac' lives up in
Alaska or somewheres, an' he hain't a loggin' man nohow--an' here Hurley
would set and let him git rich--offen Hurley's work, mind you--an' all
Hurley gits out of it is his wages. An' if you throw in with him you'll
go out in the spring with yer forty dollars a month minus yer wanagan
tab."
"Guess that's right," agreed the boy. "I'd like to make a lot of money,
but it looks like there's nothin' doing in this camp."
"Oh, I don't know," replied the man. "I'm a-goin' to git mine, an' the
way things is, I kin use a party about your size that kin keep his eyes
open and his mouth shet. Looks like, from here, they might be
considerable in it fer you, long about spring." He paused and glanced
about the office. "You sleep in here don't you?" Connie nodded, and
Slue Foot seemed satisfied, "I kin use you, 'cause you're right here on
the job where you kin keep tab on the boss, an' Saginaw, an' Lon
Camden." The man paused abruptly and peered through the window.
"What's the game?" asked Connie boldly. "I can't do any good going it
blind."
The man silenced him with a gesture: "Shet up! Here comes Saginaw.
That'll keep 'til later. Meanwhile, it don't pay fer me an' you to seem
none too friendly. When any one's around I'll kick an' growl about the
books and you sass me back." He rose from his chair and was stamping
about the room when Saginaw entered.
"Here it's took a good hour to git them names down that any one with
half sense had ort to got down in fifteen minutes! If you can't check in
them supplies no quicker'n what you kin write down names, the grub will
rot before we git it onloaded. Come on, we'll go up to the camp an' git
at it."
The man turned to greet the newcomer. "Hello Saginaw! I hear you're a
boss now. Well, good luck to you. How's the new camp, 'bout ready?"
"Yes, a couple of days will finish her up. Yer storehouse an' men's
camp, an' cook's camp is done, so you can go ahead an' move in."
Slue Foot scowled: "I seen Hurley comin' out an' he says I should leave
you fifteen men out of my crew, so I done it. Seems funny he'd give a
green boss the biggest crew, but he's got you right here where he kin
keep his eye on you, so I s'pose he knows what he's doin'."
"I 'spect he does," agreed Saginaw. "When you git to camp send them men
back with mine."
Slue Foot nodded. "Well come on, kid," he ordered, gruffly. "We'll go up
on the tote wagon."
Connie picked up his book and followed, and as he went out the door he
turned to see Saginaw regarding him curiously.