stabled in the third of the big log buildings. The driver indicated
the second.

"Better go into the men's camp and sit down 'till th' boss gets
in," he advised.

Thorpe entered a dim, over-heated structure, lined on two sides
by a double tier of large bunks partitioned from one another like
cabins of boats, and centered by a huge stove over which hung
slender poles. The latter were to dry clothes on. Just outside
the bunks ran a straight hard bench. Thorpe stood at the entrance
trying to accustom his eyes to the dimness.

"Set down," said a voice, "on th' floor if you want to; but I'd
prefer th' deacon seat."

Thorpe obediently took position on the bench, or "deacon seat."
His eyes, more used to the light, could make out a thin, tall, bent
old man, with bare cranium, two visible teeth, and a three days'
stubble of white beard over his meager, twisted face.

He caught, perhaps, Thorpe's surprised expression.

"You think th' old man's no good, do you?" he cackled, without the
slightest malice, "looks is deceivin'!" He sprang up swiftly,
seized the toe of his right foot in his left hand, and jumped his
left foot through the loop thus formed. Then he sat down again,
and laughed at Thorpe's astonishment.

"Old Jackson's still purty smart," said he. "I'm barn-boss. They