Orde, however, paid no attention to all this talk, but continued to
frown into space. At last his face cleared, and he slapped down his
tin plate so violently that the knife and fork jumped off into the
dirt.
"I have it!" he cried aloud.
But he would not tell what he had. After the noon hour he
instructed a half-dozen men to provide themselves with saws, axes,
picks, and shovels, and all marched in the direction of the mill.
When within a hundred yards or so of that structure the advancing
riverman saw the lank, black figure of the mill owner flap into
sight, astride a bony old horse, and clatter away, coat-tails
flying, up the road and into the waiting forest.
"Now, boys!" cried Orde crisply. "He'll be back in an hour with the
sheriff. Lively!" He rapidly designated ten men of his crew. "You
boys get to work and make things hum. Get as much done as you can
before the sheriff comes."
"He'll have to bring all of Spruce County to get me," commented one
of those chosen, spitting on his hands.
"Me, too!" said others.
"Now, listen," said Orde, holding them with an impressive gesture.
"When that sheriff comes, with or without a posse, I want you to go
peaceably. Understand?"
"Cave in? Not much!" cried Purdy.
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