"Oi'll do ut, sorr," replied Irish. "Oi c'n lay down th' logs all roight; th' throuble'll be wid th' figgers. If ondly me frind, Bill, wuz here--sure, there wuz th' foine lad!" Appleton pulled at his gray mustache and regarded the other thoughtfully. "You knew him well--this Bill?" he asked. "Oi wuz th' fur-rst whoite man he seen in th' woods th' day he stud knee-dape in th' shnow av th' tote-road, lukin' down at th' carcass av D'ablish. An' from that toime on till he wint down undher th' logs we wuz loike two brothers--ondly more so." "Pretty good man, was he?" "A-a-h, there wuz a man!" Fallon's big fist banged noisily upon the table, and his blue eyes lighted as he faced his employer. "Misther Appleton, ye losht a _man_ phwin th' greener wint undher. Fearin' nayther God, man, nor th' divil, he come into th' woods, an' in wan sayson lear-rnt more about logs thin th' most av us'll iver know." "Moncrossen liked him--spoke very highly of him, and that is unusual with Moncrossen." Fallon's breath whistled through his teeth at the words. "Loiked um, did he? Sure he loiked um--loike a rabbit loikes a wolf!" He leaned forward in his chair, punctuating his remarks with stabs of a huge forefinger upon the other's knee. "Misther Appleton, Moncrossen _hated um_! An' ivery man along th' river that day knows that av ut wuzn't fer Moncrossen, th' greener'd be livin' this minit--ondly we can't pr-roove ut. Th' boss hated um because he wuz a bether man--because he know'd he wuz a clane man, wid a foightin' hear-rt an' two fists an' th' guts to carry um t'rough. He chilled th' har-rt av th' boss th' fur-rst noight he seen um, an' from thin on th' fear wuz upon um fer th' bird's-eye." "The bird's-eye?" inquired Appleton. "What do you mean?" Fallon hesitated; his enthusiasm had carried him further than he had intended. He gazed out of the window, wondering how to proceed, when his eyes fastened upon a large, heavily bearded man who approached rapidly down the wooden sidewalk, a folded mackinaw swung carelessly across the fringed arm of his buckskin shirt. The iron latch rattled; the man entered, closed the door behind him, and, turning, faced the two with a smile. For a long moment the men gazed at the newcomer in silence; then Fallon's chair crashed backward upon the floor as the Irishman leaped to his feet. "Thim _eyes_!" he cried, throwing a huge arm across the man's shoulders and shaking him violently in his excitement. "Bill! Bill! Fer th' love av God, tell me 'tis yersilf! Ye damn' shcoundril, ain't ye dhrounded at all, at all? An' phwere ye ben kapin' yersilf?" Bill laughed aloud and wrung Appleton's hand. The lumberman had risen to his feet, staring incredulously into the other's face while he repeated over and over again: "My boy! My boy!" Fallon danced about, waving his arms and shouting: "Th' new camp'll go t'rough hell a whoopin'! Bill'll be boss, an' th' min'll tear out th' bone to bate Moncrossen!"