The menace of the expression, the challenge in the attitude, and this insolent espionage, all following the insults of his gossiping tongue, wrought upon the young man's feelings like a file on metal. As his resentment gnawed, it was in his mind to go and smash his fist through the little window into the middle of that lowering countenance. To him came the Honorable Pulaski, bristling and bustling. "They're telling me back there, young man, that you and Colin came near to having some sort of rumpus a little while ago. Now, I can't have anything of that sort going on among my men. You mind _your_ business. I'll make _him_ mind _his_. But what's it all about, anyway? Why were you going to fight like roosters at sight?" Wade looked at his pompous red face and into his eyes with their yellowish sclerotic, and choked back the recrimination he had intended. The thought of opening his heart's poor secret by bandying words with this man made him quiver. "As well to talk to a Durham bull," he reflected. "Why, you poor college dude," went on his employer, scornfully, "Colin MacLeod would break you in two and use you to taller his boots, a piece in each hand. You're hired to keep books and peddle wangan stuff according to the prices marked! Keep your place, where you belong. Don't go to stacking muscle against the boss of the Busters." The former centre of Burton College's football eleven stiffened his muscles and set his nails into his palms to keep from hot retort. What was the use? What did college training avail if it didn't help a gentleman to hold his tongue at the right time? "Now, remember what I've told you," ordered Britt, "and I'll go and set MacLeod to the right-about, so that you won't have to be afraid of him if you mind your own business." He went away into the smoking-car. Between the opening and the closing of the door there puffed out a louder jargon from the orgy. It then settled into its dull diapason of maudlin voices. For the rest of the journey, to the end of the forest railroad spur, Wade sat and looked out into the hopeless and ragged ruin left by the axes. The sight fitted with his mood. Britt, back from his interview with MacLeod, and serene in the power of the conscious autocrat, sat by himself and figured endlessly with a stubby lead-pencil. Wade looked around only once at the girl. When he did he caught her looking at him, and she immediately snapped her eyes away indignantly. At last the engine gave a long shriek that wailed away in echoes among the stumps. It was a different note from its careless yelps at the infrequent crossings. "Here we are!" bellowed Britt, cheerfully, stuffing away his papers and coming up the car for his little bag. He stopped opposite Wade. "Remember what I told you about minding your business," he commanded, brusquely. "You may be a college graduate, but MacLeod is your boss. He won't hurt you if you keep your place!"