"He is a good workman, and shall stay. Now what do you say—is it peace or war? Remember what I said before: you had better not stir up Mr. Wilbur too much."
Ulmer Balasco took a turn up and down the office, then dropped heavily into his chair.
"Go ahead and do as you please. If Wilbur wants to run the business he can do it, and I'll get out as soon as I can. But remember one thing." Ulmer Balasco pointed his long finger at Owen. "If you try to manage things and fail on that contract, you and Wilbur will be responsible, not myself."
"I want to see that contract," returned Owen calmly.
"I don't know as I've got to show it to you."
"As Mr. Wilbur's representative, I demand you do so." Owen pointed to Westmore and Dale. "These are my witnesses that I now make such a demand."
Muttering something under his breath, Ulmer Balasco flung himself from his chair and walked to the office safe. In a moment more he had a document out of a tin box.
"There you are," he growled. "Now I wash my hands of the whole affair. If you fail, Wilbur shall stand the loss, not myself."
And so speaking, he shut the safe, banged shut his roller-top desk, slapped his hat on his head, and strode from the office, leaving Owen and the others masters of the field.
The reader can well imagine with what interest the young lumbermen perused the document before them. It was a lengthy affair, and from it they gleaned more information than expected.