It was the word the mill-manager had awaited. He was on his feet in an
instant. Idepski stirred to action. He turned to meet him.

"Keep your darn hands off!" he cried fiercely. "By--"

His hand had flown to his hip. But he was given no time. Bat was on him
like an avalanche, an avalanche of furious purpose. The fighting spirit
in him yearned, and in a moment his victim was caught up in a crushing
embrace. There was a short, fierce struggle. But Idepski was no match
for the super lumber-jack.

While Bat held on, the tenacious hands of Standing tore the weapons he
had discovered from their hiding places. Then in a moment Idepski found
himself sprawling in the chair he had been invited to take.

Standing's appreciation was evident as he watched the man draw a gold
cigarette case from the breast pocket of his overalls as though nothing
had occurred. It was an act of studied coolness that did not for a
moment deceive, but it pleased. However, his next effrontery pleased the
mill-owner still more.

"Say, boys," Idepski observed quietly, as he opened the case and
extracted a cigarette. "I guess I'm kind o' glad you left me this. But I
don't figger you're out for loot, anyway." Then he glanced up at the man
watching him so interestedly. "Maybe you'll oblige me with a light," he
demanded, and cocked up the cigarette he had thrust between his lips
with an exaggerated impertinence.

The action was quite irresistible and Standing nodded.