"Wa'al," he said, "I ain't believin' or disbelievin' the yarn. But I ain't believin' any such perambulatin' spirit for a bark-beetle. Especially when I finds wagon tracks leading to each place where the trouble is."
"What do you mean, Rifle-Eye?" asked Merritt. "Give it to us straight."
"I mean," he said, "that I ain't never heard of spirits needin' wagons to get around in. An' when I find dead trees containin' bark-beetles planted promiscuous where they'll do most good, I'm aimin' to draw a bead on the owner o' that wagon. An' I'll ask another thing. Did any o' you find the stumps of them infected trees?"
There was a long pause, and then McGinnis, always the first to see, laughed out loud ruefully.
"'Tis a black sorrow to me," he said, "that I didn't let Ben welt him wid the ax the other day. Somebody else will have to do it now."
"You mean," said the Supervisor, flaming, "that those trees were deliberately brought here to infect the forest, trees full of beetles?"
"Sure, 'tis as plain as the nose on your face," said McGinnis. "An' it's dubs we were not to see it ourselves."
"And it was—?"
"The bucko pea-jammer that I gave a lickin' to in the spring, for sure," said McGinnis. "Peavey Jo, of course, who else?"