"You talked to—that man?"
"To Rowe?" He shook his head. "I've never spoken a word to him, but I know what he was here for." His mouth twisted in a half smile of triumph. The girl stood staring at him while voices came to them from the river: a sharp command and excited response, as the last of the hardwood logs swung round the bend. "He came to buy you out, didn't he?"
"Yes, I refused, of course, and he went away making threats. He knows all about us, Milt!"
"He knows all about us!" he echoed and laughed briefly. "And that's what I tried to tell you once and you wouldn't listen."
She caught her breath.
"I don't understand you."
Until then he had been tense, almost belligerent; but with her last words he relaxed and looked away, because he did not want her to detect his gladness. She was begging him, now, to reveal what he knew and the groundless warning which he had given weeks ago loomed large and real; Taylor was a traitor in her camp and he could prove it. With Taylor gone, with his own sagacity proven—It was a sweet moment for Milt Goddard!
The averting of his face set eyes toward the river. Taylor and two others worked to free a raft from the bend in which it had lodged. He saw John's lithe body put its strength to the pike pole, saw the logs sink beneath him as he shoved.
"Once you told me I was your good friend," he began. "You still think that, don't you, Helen?"
"Of course, Milt."
"It's the place of a man to look out for his friends, I
