JACK FYFE'S CAMP X. ONE WAY OUT XI.
Jack Fyfe's camp tender's about to get under way.
It dawned upon Stella Benton that these might be Jack Fyfe's drunken loggers, and she withdrew until the way should be clear, vitally interested because her brother was a logging man, and wondering if these were the human tools he used in his business, if these were the sort of men with whom he associated.
There's the Abbey-Monohan outfit with two big logging camps, my outfit, Jack Fyfe's, some hand loggers on the east shore, and the R.A.T. at the head of the lake.
Outside the Springs and the hatchery over the way, there isn't a white woman on the lake except Lefty Howe's wife,Lefty's Jack Fyfe's foreman,and she's fat and past forty.
Looking out through a window curtained with cheesecloth she saw her brother's logging gang swing past, stout woodsmen all, big men, tall men, short-bodied men with thick necks and shoulders, sunburned, all grimy with the sweat of their labors, carrying themselves with a free and reckless swing, the doubles in type of that roistering crew she had seen embark on Jack Fyfe's boat.
She recognized him as the man who had thrown the logger down the slip that day at noon,presumably Jack Fyfe.
"Yes, Jack Fyfe.
"And suppose," said she, "that a game warden should catch you or Mr. Jack Fyfe killing deer out of season?
While the chain was still chattering in the hawse pipe, the squat black hull of Jack Fyfe's tender rounded the nearest point.
Fyfe himself was at the wheel.
Five minutes effected a complete arrangement, and the Panther drew off with the drunken cook singing atop of the pilot house, and Renfrew comfortable in her cabin, and Jack Fyfe's promise to see him properly installed and attended in the local hospital at Roaring Springs.
Fyfe had wired a Vancouver employment agency to send one, the day he took Jim Renfrew down.
"Jack Fyfe is going to put in a crew and a donkey, and we're going to everlastingly rip the innards out of these woods.
" She smiled without making any reply to this sally, and they entered the housethe House of Fyfe, that was to be her home.
A grin struggled for lodgment on Fyfe's freckled countenance.
She paid little heed to Fyfe's warning beyond a smiling assurance that she had no intention of courting a watery end.
If Jack Fyfe had no power to stir her,and she told herself Jack had so failed, without asking herself why,then some other man might easily accomplish that, to her unutterable grief.
Later, when she was sitting beside her dressing table brushing her hair, Fyfe came in.
Holding him helpless, bent backwards across his broad chest, Fyfe slowly and systematically choked him; he shut off his breath until Monohan's tongue protruded, and his eyes bulged glassily, and horrible, gurgling noises issued from his gaping mouth.
I'm just as much a savage at heart as you are, Jack Fyfe.
" "I wonder if you are, after all, a little more of a primitive being than I've supposed?" Fyfe leaned toward her, staring fixedly into her eyeseyes that were bright with unshed tears.
That was not said for her benefit; it was Fyfe's profound conviction.
Translated & edited by Casey A. Wood & F. Marjorie Fyfe.
FYFE, F. MARJORIE.