CHAPTER XI
A NEW KIND OF POLE TEAM
STEELE'S mood changed slowly. Pondering Turk's words, he came to his decision. War with the Corliss interests he had expected; he had even looked forward expectantly to a mirthful rivalry. But this sort of thing he had not looked for; it smacked of the handiwork of Joe Embry, it hinted that Joe Embry was whispering suggestions in Beatrice's ear, that she was following them.
"There's going to be no more monkey business," he said sharply. "You two men get that under your skulls."
He knew that the fight had not all gone out of Tom Hardy, that in another moment if he was content to let the man rest under his hands the struggle would have to be resumed. And now, in an altered mood, he wanted the end of it. With a suddenness which brought no warning to Hardy, nor yet to the watchful Turk Wilson, he sprang to his feet, ran back a dozen steps up the slope and snatched up the nearest rifle. As he did so Tom Hardy, guessing his purpose when it was too late, lumbered to his feet only to find a rifle barrel covering him.
"Stand still there, Hardy," warned Steele briefly. "I'm not going to shoot to kill, since it isn't necessary.
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