"Take it," suggested Withee, with a touch of grimness in his tones. "I don't need it," Lane answered, quietly. He whirled and started away, and Barrett sullenly preceded him. They clambered up the valley wall, the pale lantern-light tossing against the hemlock boughs. The crew of "Lazy Tom" watched in silence until the last flicker vanished among the trees of the Jerusalem trail. "Well," said the chopping-boss, drawing a long breath, "it appears to me that there are some things that money can't do for old 'Stumpage John,' big as he is in this world! One is, he's found he can't buy up the 'Lazy Tom' crew to back him in a dirty job of woman-stealin'." "I'd like to be there when it happens," panted "Dirty-apron Harry," excitedly. "When what happens?" demanded the boss. "Well--well--I--I dunno!" confessed Harry. "Umph!" snorted the boss, "now you're talkin' as though you know 'Ladder' Lane as well as I know him. The man who can stand here and tell what old Lane is goin' to do next can prophesy earthquakes and have 'em happen." He pulled out his watch. "Nine o'clock!" he roared. "Lights out and turn in!" CHAPTER XIII THE RED THROAT OF POGEY "Though it ain't for me nor for any one To say how the awful thing was done, We know that the hand of a grief-crazed man Is set to many a desperate plan." --On _Isle au Haut._ It was a saffron dawn. It was a dawn diffuse and weird. A smear of copper in the east marked the presence of the sun. For the rest, the sky was a sickly monochrome, a dirty yellow, a boding yellow. It was not a wind that blew; a wind has somewhat of freshness in it. It was simply smoky air--air that rolled sullenly--choking, heavy, bitter, acrid air that was to the nostrils what the sky was to the eye. After they had toiled around the base of the mountain and were well into Pogey Notch, the man ahead, stumbling doggedly and stubbornly, found water. It was only a little puddle, cowering from the drouth. The trees had helped it to hide away. They had scattered their autumn foliage upon it, beeches and birches which were grateful, for the pool had humbly cooled their feet in the hot summer. The man ahead, thirst giving him almost a canine scent, fell rather than kneeled beside the pool, thrust his face through the leaves, and guffled the stale water. Then he plunged his smarting eyes, wide open, into the shallow depths. When he faced once more the smother of the smoke and the man who stood over him, he seemed to have a flash of new courage. His eyes blazed again, his rumpled gray hair seemed to bristle. But his defiance was only the desperation of the coward at bay. "You've teamed me all night, Lane--from Withee's camp to here. I have asked questions, and you haven't answered me; but now, by ----, say what you want of me, and let's have this thing over!"