your big deal. . . . Well, Mr. Buell, that's exactly what I'm going to do--
queer it!"

He went black in the face, and, cursing horribly, grasped me by the arm. I
struggled, but I could not loose that iron hand. Suddenly I felt a violent
wrench that freed me. Then I saw Dick swing back his shoulder and shoot out
his arm. He knocked Buell clear across the room, and when the man fell I
thought the cabin was coming down in the crash. He appeared stunned, for he
groped about with his hands, found a chair, and, using it as a support,
rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily.

"Leslie, I'll get you for this--take it from me," he muttered.

Dick's lips were tight, and he watched Buell with flaming eyes. The
lumberman lurched out of the door, and we heard him cursing after he had
disappeared. Then Dick looked at me with no little disapproval.

"What did you say to make Buell wild like that?"

I told Dick, word for word. First he looked dumfounded, then angry, and he
ended up with a grim laugh.

"Ken, you're sure bent on starting something, as Jim would say. You've
started it all right. And Jim'll love you for it. But I'm responsible to
your mother. Ken, I remember your mother--and you're going back home."

"Dick!"

"You're going back home as fast as I can get you to Holston and put you on
a train, that's all."