"Poor little woman," said George. "Oh, but it's hard lines on these poor squaws. If I died what'd happen to her?" He knew their nature and knew his own. "But Mary's dead," said Quin. "Better for her." Yet Mary wasn't dead, though Mac was dragging a whining, puling wretch of a man on a dark trail to a country where there's a very poor trail indeed cut for the slow and burdened army of the Law. XVII Next day the Pony Sawyer was wanting at the Mill and no one knew what had become of him, the finest and steadiest man in the place. George White was pleased to hear of it, for it was always his notion that Quin would some day fire him and put Long Mac at the lever of the Hoes. "Ah," said Ginger, "we never can tell: some crooked business, I dessay! They crack up M'Clellan 'sif he was a gawd-a-mighty, but to my tumtum he ain't nothin' extra." He put Shorty Gibbs from the Shingle Mill in Mac's place, and found his usual pleasure in piling poor Shorty up. For of course Gibbs, though he understood the Pony, couldn't run that lively animal at Mac's pace. When Ginger stood up and groaned publicly at Shorty, the new man was cross. It led to a scene at last, but one which only puzzled the others. For Shorty Gibbs was one of the very quietest men who breathed. He said he hated rows like "pison." When Ginger came round to him the second time and said "Oh, hell," Shorty had had enough. He stopped the Pony carriage and walked over to Ginger. He nodded to him and said-- "Say, see here, Ginger!" Ginger was an uninstructed man, he was very hard to teach. "Get on with your work," said Ginger. Shorty was up to his shoulder. He lifted an ingenuous face to the sawyer. "Ain't you bein' rather hard on a new hand, Ginger?" he asked politely. And Ginger White mistook him, altogether. He swore. What happened then the other men missed; it was all so quiet. "Look here, you red-headed bastard," said Shorty in a conversational tone, or as near it as the clatter of the Mill would allow, "look here, you slab-sided hoosier, if you as much as open your head to me agin I'll rip you up from your fork to your breast-bone. See!" And Ginger saw. "You can't bull-doze me," said Shorty, becoming openly truculent, "any more than you can bull-doze Mac, you white-livered dog!" White was never brave, but since the saws had killed Skookum his nerve was bad indeed. There were spikes in every log for him by now. He went back to the lever without a word and ran so slow that Gibbs got a chance to clear the skids. By the time Gibbs knew what was what with the Pony, Mac returned. He had taken Ned somewhere to the neighbourhood of Seattle and left him there. He went to see George Quin the moment he got into town. And by that time there was news from Kamloops. "I've planted him with an old partner of mine that runs a hotel back o' Seattle," said Mac. "Jenkins will keep him away from too much liquor. I rely on Jenkins." George thanked him.