Mrs. Field sat in the inner room of Ridgeley's office, waiting for the return of her husband with the team. They were going out for a drive. Ridgeley was working at his books, and he had forgotten her presence. She could not but feel a deep admiration for his powerful frame and his quick, absorbed action as he moved about from his safe to his desk. He was a man of great force and ready decision. Suddenly the door opened and a stranger entered. He had a sullen and bitter look on his thin, dark face. Ridgeley's quick eyes measured him, and his hand softly turned the key in his money drawer, and as he faced about he swung shut the door of the safe. The stranger saw all this with eyes as keen as Ridgeley's. A cheerless and strange smile came upon his face. "Don't be alarmed," he said. "I'm low, but I ain't as low as that." "Well, sir, what can I do for you?" asked Ridgeley. Mrs. Field half rose, feeling something tense and menacing in the attitude of the two men. But the intruder quietly answered, "You can give me a job if you want to." Ridgeley remained alert. His eyes ran over the man's tall frame. He looked strong and intelligent, although his eyes were fevered and dull. "What kind of a job?" "Any kind that will take me out into the woods and keep me there." There was a self-accusing tone in his voice that Ridgeley felt. "What's your object? You look like a man who could do something else. What brings you here?" The man turned with a sudden resolution to punish himself. His voice expressed a terrible loathing. "Whiskey, that's what. It's a hell of a thing to say, but I can't let liquor alone when I can smell it. I'm no common hand, or I wouldn't be if I--But let that go. I can swing an axe, and I'm ready to work. That's enough. Now the question is, can you find a place for me?" Ridgeley mused a little. The young fellow stood there, statuesque, rebellious. Then Ridgeley said, "I guess I can help you out that much." He picked up a card and a pencil. "What shall I call you?" "Oh, call me Williams; that ain't my name, but it'll do." "What you been doing?" "Everything part of the time, drinking the rest. Was in a livery-stable down at Wausau last week. It came over me, when I woke yesterday, that I was gone to hell if I stayed in town. So I struck out; and I don't care for myself, but I've got a woman to look out for--" He stopped abruptly. His recklessness of mood had its limits, after all. Ridgeley pencilled on a card. "Give this to the foreman of No. 6. The men over at the mill will show you the teams." The man started toward the door with the card in his hand. He turned suddenly. "One thing more. I want you to send ten dollars of my pay every two weeks to this address." He took an envelope out of his pocket. "It don't matter what I say or do after this, I want that money sent. The rest will keep me in tobacco and clothing. You understand?" Ridgeley nodded. "Perfectly. I've seen such cases before."