"Sure. They're sent up to waste out the water in the reservoir and
hang this end of the drive," replied Denning.
"Correct," said Orde. "The old skunk knows his own rollways are so
far down stream that he's safe, flood water or no flood water."
A pause ensued, during which the two smoked vigorously.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Denning at last.
"What would you do?" countered Orde.
"Well," said Denning slowly, and with a certain grim joy, "I don't
bet those Saginaw river-pigs are any more two-fisted than the boys
on this river. I'd go up and clean 'em out."
"Won't do," negatived Orde briefly. "In the first place, as you
know very well, we're short-handed now, and we can't spare the men
from the work. In the second place, we'd hang up sure, then; to go
up in that wilderness, fifty miles from civilisation, would mean a
first-class row of too big a size to handle. Won't do!"
"Suppose you get a lawyer," suggested Denning sarcastically.
Orde laughed with great good-humour
"Where'd our water be by the time he got an injunction for us?"
He fell into a brown study, during which his pipe went out.
"Jim," he said finally, "it isn't a fair game. I don't know what to
do.
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