The members of the "It-'ll-git-ye Club" very frankly expressed thoughts of this tenor to the half-dozen men who arrived at Castonia in the early morning to take the stage down-river with Wade. The men gloomily agreed. Two of them showed signs of funk at the last moment, and had to be coaxed on board the stage by the young man. These were the sort of men that Wade had seen a year before in the general rooms of "Castle Cut 'Em." They were independent operators and stumpage-buyers, who had responded to the messengers and letters that Wade had been sending out. There were more of them who joined the party at the railroad; others came into the train as it stopped here and there on the way to the junction. All of them seemed impressed by that sense of gloom and apprehension; there was not a sanguine face. But in their unanimity of dolorousness they displayed a further interesting characteristic. They seemed entirely ready to accept this young man as their leader and their champion; in fact, as he went among them, they confessed that they had come along only because he had assured them that he would bear the brunt of the approaching conflict. The experience of years had shown them that they had no one man or combination of men among themselves who could go up against King Spruce. They even distrusted each other's honesty, for every man realized all the iniquity of the game of graft and grab that had characterized their dealings with each other and with the main power in the past. That they should let this new-comer lead them was because he had already proved his mettle and his fearlessness, and the whole north country knew it. He had beaten Pulaski Britt at his own game, he had defied King Spruce, and now he was willing to beard the tyrant in his own castle, and only asked their presence at his back in order that the sight of them might prove his assertions and aid to win some grace for all of them. Therefore, they had answered his appeal and had gone with him. But they went without alacrity, and were encouraged only by the despondent belief that at least matters could not be made any worse. CHAPTER XXX THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE "We 'lowed he was caught, and we never thought we'd see Mike any more; But he took and he kicked a bubble up, and he rode all safe to shore." --The "Best White-water Man." So it came about that once more, after a year had passed, Dwight Wade walked up the hill towards "Castle Cut 'Em," where the sunlight shimmered upon grim walls. The mills along the canal screamed at him as he passed. His fancy detected derision in the squall of the saws.