"See here," and Orde drew them aside to an earnest, low-voiced
conversation that lasted several minutes. When he had finished he
clapped each of them on the back, and all moved off, laughing, to
the dam.
"Now, boys," he commanded the others, "no row without orders.
Understand? If there's going to be a fight, I'll give you the word
when."
The chopping crew descended to the bottom of the sluice, the gate of
which had been shut, and began immediately to chop away at the
apron. As the water in the pond above had been drawn low by the
morning's work, none overflowed the gate, so the men were enabled to
work dry. Below the apron, of course, had been filled in with earth
and stones. As soon as the axe-men had effected an entry to this
deposit, other men with shovels and picks began to remove the
filling.
The work had continued nearly an hour when Orde commanded the fifty
or more idlers back to camp.
"Get out, boys," he ordered. "The sheriff will be here pretty quick
now, and I don't want any row. Get out of sight."
"And leave them to fight her out alone? Guess not!" grumbled a
tall, burly individual with a red face.
Orde immediately walked directly to this man.
"Am I bossing this drive, or am I not?" he demanded.
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