Reivers did not come to the shop that night for his evening diversion, nor did Toppy see him at all during the next day. But in the morning following he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in his own peculiar way of Toppy’s action in driving the shotgun guard away from the quarry. As the line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill half light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang, a cheerful, stocky man called Mikal, was missing. In his place, walking with the successful plug-ugly’s insolent swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy knew that Reivers had made another move in his tantalising game. He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought of it. Reivers was playing with him, too, playing even as he had played with Rosky! And Toppy knew that, like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too, to be crushed—to be marked as an inferior, to be made to acknowledge Reivers as his master. Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy’s eyes and had, with his cold smile of complete confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge. The substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers’ pet troublemaker, for an effective workman was a definite move toward Toppy’s humiliation. There was nothing in Toppy’s manner, however, to indicate his feelings as he followed the line to the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy’s swagger, by which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for trouble, to go as if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely simple of mind, leaped instantly to the conclusion that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered more insolently than ever. He was in an irritable mood this morning, was Bill Sheedy; and as soon as the gang was out of sight of the stockade—and, thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight of Reivers—he began to vent his irritation upon his fellow-workmen. He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them, threatened them with his fists, kicked them carelessly. There was no finesse in Bill’s method; he was mad and showed it. When the daylight came up the river sufficiently strong to begin the day’s work, Bill had worked himself up to a proper frame of mind for his purpose. He stood still while the other men willingly seized their tools and barrows and tramped into the quarry. Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated by his manner he was quite oblivious of Sheedy’s existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy with a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to go in with the other men. The order did not come. Toppy was busy directing the men where to begin their work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill finally was forced to call attention to himself. “——!” he growled, spitting generously. “Yah ain’t goin’ tuh git me tuh wurruk in no hole like that.” “All right, Bill,” said Toppy instantly. “All right.”