As an error of judgment, the thing was inexplicable. A child of six would have known better. And an axe was no pop-gun.
For a moment he stared at Winchester like a man in a dream.
His employer blinked back….
Then his eyes narrowed.
"You're getting curious, are you?" he said thickly.
In spite of himself, Anthony started.
Loosely nursing his implement, the other took a step to one side. There was not much in the movement, but it placed him between Lyveden and the road.
Anthony kept his eyes riveted upon the powerful hands playing with the haft of the axe….
Twenty paces away a saw was going. Raised above the din could be heard the engineer's voice calling for the return of his pencil. A distant clatter of timber told that the waggon was being unloaded.
Anthony moistened his lips.