"I'm afraid you're laboring under a delusion, Mr. Latisan. Why don't you sell out to our company? Most of the other independents have found it to their advantage--seen it in the right light." "Mr. Craig's tactics have driven some small concerns to see it that way, sir. But my grandfather was operating in the north and supplying the sawmills with timber before the paper mills began to grab off every tree big enough to prop a spruce bud. Villages have been built up around the sawmills. If the paper folks get hold of everything those villages will die; all the logs will be run down to the paper mills." "Naturally," said the sallow man. "Paper is king these days." Then he received a handful of documents from a clerk who entered, again referred Ward to Mr. Craig, advised him to treat with the latter in the field, where the business belonged, and hunched a dismissing shoulder toward the caller. Ward had not been asked to sit down; he swung on his heel, but he stopped and turned. "As to selling out, even if we can bring ourselves to that! Mr. Craig has beaten independents to their knees and has made them accept his price. It's not much else than ruin when a man sells to him." "Persecutional mania is a dangerous hallucination," stated the sallow man. "Mr. Craig has accomplished certain definite results in the north country. We have used the word Consolidated in our corporation name with full knowledge of what we are after. We assure stable conditions in the timber industry. You must move with the trend of the times." Latisan had been revolving in his mind certain statements which he proposed to make to the big men of the Comas. He had assorted and classified those statements before he entered the castle of the great corporation. With youth's optimism he had anticipated a certain measure of sympathy--had in some degree pictured at least one kindly man in the Comas outfit who would listen to a young chap's troubles. Walking to the door, standing with his hand on the knob, he knew he must go back to the woods with the dolorous prospect of being obliged to fight to hold together the remnants of the Latisan business. He set his teeth and opened the door. He would have gone without further words, but the sallow man snapped a half threat which brought Ward around on his heels. "Mr. Latisan, I hope you will carry away with you the conviction that fighting the Comas company will not get you anything." Ward choked for a moment. Old John was stirring in him. A fettered yelp was bulging in his throat, and the skin of the back of his head tingled as if the hair were rising. But he spoke quietly when he allowed his voice to squeeze past the repressed impulse. "There's a real fight ready to break in the north country, sir." "Do you propose to be captain?" "I have no such ambition. But your Mr. Craig is forcing the issue. No company is big enough to buck the law in our state."