Ben nodded his head a great many times, until Wilbur thought it would fall off. In the meantime Merritt and Peavey Jo, standing a few feet apart, had been eying each other. Presently the Supervisor stepped forward:
"Show me those logs," he ordered.
"You better keep back, I t'ink," growled the millman.
Merritt stepped forward unconcernedly, but was met with an open-hand push that sent him reeling backward.
"I not want to fight you," he cried; "I get a plenty fight when I want him. You no good; can't fight."
"I'm not going to fight," said the Supervisor, "but I'm going to see where those logs are, or were. Stand aside!"
But the big Frenchman planted himself squarely in the way.
"If you hunt for the trouble," he said, "you get him sure," he said menacingly.
"I'm not hunting for trouble, Jo, and you know it But I'm hunting logs, and I'll find them."
He was just about to step forward, trusting to quickness to dodge the blow that he could see would be launched at him, when Ben, who had been whispering to Wilbur, lurched over to the Supervisor and pulled his arm.