"Best high-rigger I ever saw," Jim Handy growled. "All loggers agitates now and then."
Phil paid no attention to his brother's comment. He addressed Handy.
"When did they pull this strike?"
"This mornin'. They chewed the fat till midnight in the bunk house. After breakfast not a man turned out. They wouldn't talk. They said these two would talk for 'em. I've told you what they want. Fifty cents a day raise. Six bathtubs."
"Bathtubs!" Grove snorted disdainfully.
"Short notice," Phil ruminated. "H'm. Have they been kicking?"
"Loggers always kicks," Handy grumbled. "They've been growlin' some. I've told 'em they always got the privilege of quittin'. I've fired three or four of the mouthy ones. When they all laid down at once, I reckoned I'd better put it up to you."
"What do you think about it yourself?" Phil asked him. "Can you get another crew together and go ahead?"
Handy shifted uneasily.
"I hear men's scarce in town," he said. "If I can dig up a crew, of course I can go ahead. But no pick-up crew will get out as much timber. Not for a month or two anyhow. Most of this bunch has been on the job since the camp opened."