“Wow! Leggo!” The agent peered over his thick glasses with something like admiration in his eyes. “Say, you’re there with the grip, all right, big fellow. Where’d you get it?” “Swinging a sledge,” lied Toppy solemnly. “And I’ve come here to get that job.” Simmons shook his head. “I can’t do it,” he protested. “If I should send you out and you shouldn’t make good, Reivers would be sore.” “Who’s this man Reivers?” The agent’s eyes over his glasses expressed surprise. “I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?” he said. “Oh, I’m wise enough,” said Toppy impatiently. “I know what it is. But who’s this Reivers?” “He’s the boss,” said Simmons shortly. “D’you mean to say you never heard about Hell-Camp Reivers, the Snow-Burner?” “No, I haven’t,” replied Toppy impatiently. “But that doesn’t make any difference. You send me out there; I’ll make good, don’t worry.” He paused and sized his man up. “Come over here, Simmons,” he said with a significant wink, leading the way toward the door. “I want that job; I want it badly.” Toppy dived into his pockets. Two bills came to light—two twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons’ hand. “That’s how bad I want it. Now how about it?” The fashion in which Simmons’ thin fingers closed upon the money told Toppy that he was not mistaken in the agent’s character. “You’ll be taking your own chances,” warned Simmons, carefully pocketing the money. “If you don’t make good—well, you’ll have to explain to Reivers, that’s all. You must have an awful good reason for wanting to go out.” “I have.” “Hiding from something, mebbe?” suggested Simmons. “Maybe,” said Toppy. “And, say—there’s a young lady over at the hotel who’s looking for you. Said you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get out to Cameron Dam.” An evil smile broke over the agent’s thin face as he moved toward the door. “The new bookkeeper, I suppose,” he said, winking at Toppy. “Aha! Now I understand why you——” Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His fingers sank into the man’s withered biceps. “No, you don’t understand,” he hissed grimly. “Get that? You don’t understand anything about it.” “All right,” snapped the cowed man. “Leggo my arm. I was just joshing. You can take a joke, can’t you? Well, then, come along. As long as you’re going out you might as well go at once. I’ve got to get a double team, anyhow, for the lady, and you’ve got to start now to make it before dark. Ready to start now?” “All ready,” said Toppy. At the door the agent paused. “Say, you haven’t said anything about wages yet,” he said quizzically. “That’s so,” said Toppy, as if he had forgotten. “How much am I going to get?” “Sixty a month.” The agent couldn’t understand why the new man should laugh. It struck Toppy as funny that a little girl with a baby dimple in her chin should be earning more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey Duncombe and the rest of the bunch would have thought had they known.