MacNutt ignored the challenge and questioned the men. They backed up Rough Shan’s statement surlily. Convinced that they were lying but unable to prove it, Joe and MacNutt held council. They had to get their logs through, and the only way to do it was to sluice McCane’s first, and charge him with the time.
“A lot of good that will do,” said Joe. “He’ll let us sluice them and then hang us up somewhere again.”
“Not if I can help it,” said MacNutt. “I think I can work a game on him. Act as if you were good and sore.”
They returned to Rough Shan.
“Your men say they won’t work,” said Joe. “We’ll do your sluicing for you, but you’ll pay us for it.”
“Like hell I will,” said Rough Shan. “I’ll sluice me own logs when I get a fresh crew.”
“You want to hang us up, do you?” cried Joe, finding no difficulty in simulating anger. “You can’t do it. My men will pitch the whole bunch of you into the pond if I give them the word. I’ll put your logs through. MacNutt, start the sluicing.”
“I warn ye to let my logs alone,” said Rough Shan. “I’ll hold ye responsible for every stick that goes through the chute.”
“All right,” said Joe, and turned away.
The sluicing began at once. MacNutt issued private instructions to Cooley and Cottrell. They started upstream, where they were shortly joined by ten more. There they picked up a peakie, and laboriously portaged the heavy boat through the woods well out of sight of the dam, setting it in the water below. With another trip they brought augers, boom-chains and shackles, and a manilla rope. Embarking they ran downstream two miles.