Bridewell rubbed his eyes. "Yonder," he said faintly.
Bull walked to the designated place, the great timber teetering up and down, quivering with the jar of each stride. There he swung one end to the ground and thrust the other up until it was erect.
"Is this the way you want it?" said Bull.
By this time Bridewell had recovered his self-possession to some degree, yet his eyes were wide as he approached.
"Yep. Just let it lean agin' that corner piece, will you, Hunter?"
Bull obeyed.
"That might make a fellow's shoulder sort of sore," he remarked, "if he had to carry those timbers all day."
"All day?" gasped Bridewell, and then he saw that the giant, indeed, was not even panting from his effort. He was already turning his attention to the pile of timbers.
"Here," he said, reluctantly drawing out some money. "Here's your ten."
But Bull refused it. "Can't take it," he explained. "I just made the bet by way of talk. You see, I knew I could lift it; and you didn't have any real idea about me. Besides, if I'd lost I couldn't have paid. I haven't any money."