Although both Bob and Jack spoke the language fairly well and ordinarily had no difficulty in understanding it, the men spoke so rapidly and in such low tones that they were able only to catch a word here and there. Finally the leader took a few steps toward them.
“You bust our rocks, an’ you mak’ us geet wet, oui,” he said with an angry sneer.
“You had no right to build that pier there,” Bob began. “We know that it was intended to jam our logs.”
“Dat our beesness.” The breed scowled as he took a step nearer.
Bob glanced at Rex. The latter’s face was pale although he showed no other sign of fear. As for Jack he was leaning against a tree as nonchalantly as though nothing had happened or was likely to.
“As for getting you wet,” Bob continued. “You have only yourselves to blame for that. You surely didn’t expect us to stand still and be beat up, did you?”
“We no would have hurt then but now you geet beat up ver’ queek and ver’ bon; just soon we rest a leetle minute,” and the leader stepped back to where the others were standing.
“I’m afraid he means it,” Bob said in low tones. “The question is had we better take it or fight?”
“I’m going to fight,” Jack declared. “I’m not going to stand still and let any half-breed beat me without giving him something in return.”
“I’m mighty sorry we got you into this, Rex,” Bob began, but Rex quickly interrupted him.