"Sit still, Tom," interposed the newcomer. "Eat hearty. I'm going
to feed yet myself. Then we'll see what's to be done. I think
first thing you'd better see to having this wind turned off."

After the meal was finished, North and his principal sauntered to
the water's edge, where they stood for a minute looking at the logs
and the ruffled expanse of water below.

"Might as well have sails on them and be done with it," remarked
Jack Orde reflectively. "Couldn't hold 'em any tighter. It's a
pity that old mossback had to put in a mill. The water was slack
enough before, but now there seems to be no current at all."

"Case of wait for the wind," agreed Tom North. "Old Daly will be
red-headed. He must be about out of logs at the mill. The flood-
water's going down every minute, and it'll make the riffles above
Redding a holy fright. And I expect Johnson's drive will be down on
our rear most any time."

"It's there already. Let's go take a look," suggested Orde.

They picked their way around the edge of the pond to the site of the
new mill.

"Sluice open all right," commented Orde. "Thought she might be
closed."

"I saw to that," rejoined North in an injured tone.