"I didn't think of money, at first; at least, it
was a secondary consideration after that night beside the camp-
fire. I saw how this big vacant north could be made to strike a
mighty blow at those interests which make a profession of
cornering meatstuffs on the other side, how it could be made to
fight the fight of the people by sending down an unlimited supply
of fish that could be sold at a profit in New York, Boston, or
Chicago for a half of what the trust demands. My scheme wasn't
aroused entirely by philanthropy, mind you. I saw in it a chance
to get back at the very people who brought about my father's ruin,
and who kept pounding him after he was in a corner until he broke
down and died. They killed him. They robbed me a few years later.
They made me hate what I was once, a moving, joyous part of--life
down there. I went from the north, first to Ottawa, then to
Toronto and Winnipeg. After that I went to Brokaw, my father's old
partner, with the scheme. I've told you of Brokaw--one of the
deepest, shrewdest old fighters in the Middle West. It was only a
year after my father's death that he was on his feet again, as
strong as ever. Brokaw drew in two or three others as strong as
himself, and we went after the privileges.
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