"I'm gettin' to be a worse outlaw than ever, Mr. Wade," declared the teamster. "I've stole one of your hosses, and grub and hay from the store camp, and I'm livin' here in the woods. I've been waitin' for you," he added, wistfully. "I might have slept a little last night when I didn't know, but I reckon I didn't. I figgered you'd come. I've been waitin' for you. They can't say I'm one of your men, Mr. Wade. I'm livin' here in the woods." "Look here, Eye," blurted his employer, roughly, "I haven't any time nor taste for fool talk just now. You take the horse back to camp and get on your job." He started on. "You don't sound as though you'd got what you went after," cried Tommy, unabashed. He came trotting behind. "You didn't get satisfaction, then, Mr. Wade! Injunction still there, hey? You didn't get--" "What did you suppose I'd get from Pulaski Britt, you infernal fool?" His own brutality towards the faithful servitor made him ashamed. But the spirit of evil that had taken possession of him was speaking through lips that he surrendered in weariness of body and bitterness of soul. And when a shade of repentance smote him at sight of Tommy trotting sorrowfully at his side, he gasped out of his woe. "He has dynamited our booms, Tommy. Did it with his own hands. And now"--he threw up his arms towards Blunder Lake--"wait till to-morrow!" Tommy Eye stopped without a word and let Wade go on. "Wait till to-morrow?" he mumbled, as he scrambled back up the knoll. "Wait till to-morrow, when I've got a two-hoss load of canned thunder planted under Blunder dam, and the devil helpin' me by puttin' them two to sleep ev'ry night, snorin' like quill-pigs?" He waited until Wade had stumbled out of sight, then cinched upon his horse the blankets that had served for couch during his vigil, mounted, and urged the animal through the woods, kicking heels into its flanks. There were men of the crew who heard an unwonted sound in the midnight hush of the Enchanted camp. It was a dull, heavy, earth-thudding noise that swept down from the north over the tree-tops and travelled on through the forest. Men awoke and asked themselves what had awakened them, and went to sleep again, and knew not what it meant. Wade did not hear the sound. Exhaustion had fettered his senses when he crawled into his bunk in the office camp. What he did hear, as he roused himself in the gray of early dawn to set his hand to the desperate task he was resolved upon, was the splattering rush of a horse's feet in the spring ooze of the tote road and a human voice that shrieked, hysterically: "Man the river, damn ye! Man the river!" It was Tommy Eye. He was crouched on the back of his horse when the men came tumbling out. His little eyes were like fire-points. The wattles of his neck were blood-gorged. He spat froth as he raved at them.