“That stuff doesn't come here,” objected the cookee, indicating a box of tobacco the newcomer was carrying. “She goes to the 'van.'” Thorpe did not know what the “van” might be, but he replaced the tobacco on the sleigh. In a few moments the task was finished, with the exception of a half dozen other cases, which the driver designated as also for the “van.” The horses were unhitched, and stabled in the third of the big log buildings. The driver indicated the second. “Better go into the men's camp and sit down 'till th' boss gets in,” he advised. Thorpe entered a dim, over-heated structure, lined on two sides by a double tier of large bunks partitioned from one another like cabins of boats, and centered by a huge stove over which hung slender poles. The latter were to dry clothes on. Just outside the bunks ran a straight hard bench. Thorpe stood at the entrance trying to accustom his eyes to the dimness. “Set down,” said a voice, “on th' floor if you want to; but I'd prefer th' deacon seat.” Thorpe obediently took position on the bench, or “deacon seat.” His eyes, more used to the light, could make out a thin, tall, bent old man, with bare cranium, two visible teeth, and a three days' stubble of white beard over his meager, twisted face. He caught, perhaps, Thorpe's surprised expression. “You think th' old man's no good, do you?” he cackled, without the slightest malice, “looks is deceivin'!” He sprang up swiftly, seized the toe of his right foot in his left hand, and jumped his left foot through the loop thus formed. Then he sat down again, and laughed at Thorpe's astonishment. “Old Jackson's still purty smart,” said he. “I'm barn-boss. They ain't a man in th' country knows as much about hosses as I do. We ain't had but two sick this fall, an' between you an' me, they's a skate lot. You're a greenhorn, ain't you?” “Yes,” confessed Thorpe. “Well,” said Jackson, reflectively but rapidly, “Le Fabian, he's quiet but bad; and O'Grady, he talks loud but you can bluff him; and Perry, he's only bad when he gets full of red likker; and Norton he's bad when he gets mad like, and will use axes.” Thorpe did not know he was getting valuable points on the camp bullies. The old man hitched nearer and peered in his face. “They don't bluff you a bit,” he said, “unless you likes them, and then they can back you way off the skidway.”