Haggarty grinned. “Then I’m thinkin’ I’ll be goin’ over onto Clancys’ limit wid him,” he commented.
Rough Shan took a fierce step forward. Joe stood his ground and the other paused.
“Our logs is here,” he exclaimed. “These ends proves it. I’ll not match them, nor try to. I give ye an hour to deliver a full load of logs, average twelve-inch tops, at our skidways.”
“Not a log, unless you prove ownership of it, and then you do your own delivering,” said Joe. “Pshaw! McCane, what’s the use? You can’t bluff me. Let your employers go to law if they want to.”
“Law!” cried Rough Shan. “We run our own law in these woods, young felly. I give ye fair warnin’!”
“You make me tired,” Joe retorted. “Why don’t you do something?”
Joe was quick on his feet, but he was quite unprepared for the sudden blow which Rough Shan delivered. It caught him on the jaw and staggered him. Instantly Haggarty hurled himself at McCane, while Jackson tackled Callahan. The men at the rollways ran to the scrap. Callahan floored Jackson and went for Joe, who met him with straight, stiff punches which surprised the redoubtable Mike. As reinforcements came up, McCane and his henchman backed against a pile of timber.
“Come on, ye measly log stealers!” roared the foreman, thoroughly in his element. The odds against him had no effect save to stimulate his language. He poured forth a torrent of the vilest abuse that ever defiled a pinery. Beside him Callahan, heavy-set and gorilla-armed, supplemented his remarks. There was no doubt of the thorough gameness of the pair.
In went Haggarty, Reese, Ward, and Chartrand. Others followed. The rush simply overwhelmed the two. They went down, using fists, knees, and feet impartially. A dozen men strove to get at them.
