The jam boss nodded in a troubled way. “I’m afraid they’ve got us bad, too. It’s goin’ to take one long time pickin’ that jam apart, but I can’t see anythin’ else to do. I spose I’d better start ’em at it right away, sir.”

“Not at all,” retorted Bob swiftly. “Do nothing of the kind. Let ’em stay just where they are, Jerry!”

At the sound of his imperative undertone Calker hustled up. There was a brief interchange of words between the trio, during which the faces of both lumberjacks brightened—amazingly. Then all three disappeared into the bushes a little way upstream, from which they did not emerge for a considerable time.

When they finally appeared, Bainbridge held by his side a shapeless package of considerable size. Had not Peters and Calker walked so close beside him as he bent his way leisurely toward the crowd about the jam, it would probably have been noticed that this package was made up of a dozen or more sticks of giant powder fastened securely together, and depending from a sling of stout manila rope.

The line of rivermen had turned, and were watching his approach with interested curiosity, but Joyce and his gang could see nothing. Reaching the men, Bob paused, struck a match, and carefully lighted the end of a protruding fuse. As it sputtered up he gave a short, sharp word of command, the line of men opened instantly to let him through, and a second later he stood not a dozen paces from Joyce, deliberately swinging the deadly package round and round his head.

For a second there was a breathless hush. Then the red-haired man leaped forward.

“Stop!” he roared. “You young whelp, if you——”

He broke off with a gurgling sound, and the color left his face. With a final swing, Bob loosened his hold on the bundle, which curved in a perfect arc over the rear of the jam, over the jagged crest, and dropped swiftly out of sight amid the massive timbers upended in confusion along the face and close to the spot where protruded the freshly driven spiles which had caused all the trouble.

An instant later the whole throng of men hustled frantically for cover.

CHAPTER X. THE POWER BEHIND IT ALL