At seven o'clock the No. 1. should be leaving the harbour; but here was her master sitting on Halloran's bed, his seamed old face set hard with the thoughts that were boiling behind it. Down by the mills, where the first early risers were lounging in, where the lumber piles stretching far along the wharves were glistening yellow under the light of the new sun, all was quiet even to the steamer, whose stoke-room was cold, whose boilers were giving out no sounds of preparation for the twelve-hour journey. Over at Grand Rapids Mr. Babcock was still sleeping the sleep of the just, dreaming once more that his man had come in by a late train to report that all was well at Wauchung. And still Halloran was jerking himself into his clothes, pulling on his old purple sweater rather than waste time over collar and tie. “All right,” he said; “I'm ready.” Then he paused. The next move was not to be settled offhand. “You went around to Billy's house, Captain?” “Yes; I've just come from there. The way that fellow talked bothered me so last night that I couldn't sleep much. I got to thinking it over after I'd gone to bed, and it struck me that if he wanted to cripple the line he'd hardly stop at me. He'd go for Billy sure, for a good engineer isn't an easy man to replace. And they tell me Billy hasn't been seen at his boarding-house since noon yesterday.” Very true, Captain Craig! A good suggestion just now when Halloran is still shaking the sleep from his eyes and trying to get these amazing facts in hand, and to relate them with certain suspicions that rose at the first word. It will probably occur to Halloran, when once he shall get facts, suspicions and all firmly gripped in his mind, that heads of trusts do not fight haphazard; that if certain deliveries of timber are to be prevented heads of trusts are not accustomed to move in vain. It is Mr. Bigelow's habit to arrive at results: no getting off at way-stations for G. Hyde Bigelow; and obstinate persons who venture on open warfare with the Great must shake the sleep out very early in the morning if they hope to reach even a way-station along the Bigelow line. Steamers cannot be run without engineers: engineers cannot be had for the whistling in far-away Michigan ports with but forty hours of grace--forty valuable hours not a whit longer than other everyday hours; even shorter--hours that were diminishing, were growing more valuable, would soon be precious. “How much did this man offer you?” Halloran asked. “Five hundred a year more salary and a bonus of five hundred extra, cash down.” “Did he show the money?” “He had a big roll.” “Meant business, didn't he?” said Halloran dryly. “First thing we do, we'd better go down and see if we have anybody left. Then we can talk better.” So they went down to the wharves, where they found a few wandering deckhands by the silent steamer. Evidently deckhands were not important to trusts.