wrinkled about bony shanks. He was whittling a pine stick, which he
held pointing down between his spread knees, and conversing
animatedly with a young fellow occupying another chair at his side.

"And there comes one of 'em now," declaimed the old man
dramatically.

Orde nodded briefly to the stranger, and came at once to business.

"I want to talk this matter over with you," he began. "We aren't
making much progress. We can't afford to hang up the drive, and the
water is going down every day. We've got to have more water. I'll
tell you what we'll do: If you'll let us cut down the new sill,
we'll replace it in good shape when we get all our logs through."

"No, sir!" promptly vetoed the old man.

"Well, we'll give you something for the privilege. What do you
think is fair?"

"I tell ye I'll give you your legal rights, and not a cent more,"
replied the old man, still quietly, but with quivering nostrils.

"What is your name?" asked Orde.

"My name is Reed, sir."

"Well, Mr. Reed, stop and think what this means. It's a more
serious matter than you think. In a little while the water will be
so low in the river that it will be impossible to take out the logs