Now the river, backing up, rapidly overflowed this flat.
As the jam tightened by its own weight and the accumulation of logs,
the water fairly jumped from the lowest floor of the mill to the one
above.
Orde had not long to wait for Reed's appearance. In less than five
minutes the old man descended on the group, somewhat of his martial
air abated, and something of a vague anxiety manifest in his eye.
"What's the matter here?" he demanded.
"Matter?" inquired Orde easily. "Oh, nothing much, just a little
jam."
"But it's flooding my mill!"
"So I perceive," replied Orde, striking a match.
"Well, why don't you break it?"
"Not interested."
The old warrior ran up the bank to where he could get a good view of
his property. The water was pouring into the first-floor windows.
"Here!" he cried, running back. "I've a lot of grain up-stairs.
It'll be ruined!"
"Not interested," repeated Orde.
Reed was rapidly losing control of himself.
"But I've got a lot of money invested here!" he shouted. "You
miserable blackguard, you're ruining me!"
Orde replaced his pipe.
Reed ran back and forth frantically, disappeared, returned bearing
an antiquated pike-pole, and single-handed and alone attacked the
jam!
Astonishment and delight held the rivermen breathless for a moment.
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