"Whose opinion was it that you should supply the exact material you had
promised?" Featherstone asked.

"Well," said Foster, "Lawrence said so first, but I think we both meant
to let them have the best."

Featherstone's glance at his wife indicated relief, but something in
Alice's face showed that she had known what Foster's reply would be.
She had listened with keen interest, and he stopped, half amused and
half embarrassed. Perhaps he had talked too much, and while he meant
to do Lawrence justice, he did not want to play the part of the
indomitable pioneer for the girl's benefit. Moreover, he knew she
would detect, and despise him for, any attempt to do so, and as he
valued her good opinion, it was not modesty alone that led him to make
Lawrence the hero of the piece.

"So you stuck to your bargain!" Featherstone remarked. "Tell us how
you carried it out."

Foster forgot himself and the others as he continued, for he had a
vivid memory of the struggle. He took charge of the work in the woods,
while Lawrence tactfully pressed for payment of outstanding accounts,
put off creditors, and somehow provided money for wages. As extra
gangs had to be hired, Foster owned that he did not know how the thing
was done. He cut a grade for the skidway up the hill, slashing tangled
bush and blasting rocks, worked in the snow by moonlight long after his
men stopped, and afterwards learned that Lawrence often went without a
meal when pay-day got near. But they hauled out the logs and the
lumber was delivered. When he stopped, Featherstone looked up with