"I tell you I cut him off my land."
Merritt pointedly took his notebook from his breastpocket.
"Liars make me tired," he announced impartially.
"You call me a liar—" began the big lumberman savagely, edging up to the horse.
"Not yet. But I probably will before I'm through," was the unperturbed reply.
"You say all the same that I am a liar, is it not?"
"Not yet, anyway. What does it matter? You cut four and a half million feet, a little over."
A smile passed over the faces of the men attached to the sawmill. It was evident that a number of them must know about the trespass, and probably thought that Peavey Jo had been clever in getting away with it. The mill-owner laughed.
"You t'ink I keep him in my pocket, hey?" he queried. "Four and a half million feet is big enough to see. You have a man here, he see logs, he mark logs, I cut them."
The Supervisor swung himself from his horse and handed the reins to Wilbur. McGinnis did the same.