“That is the place, sir. They seem to be planning to get around Turner’s without stirring up the town. But it would take a good deal to wake up Turner’s,” laughed the big German.
Jerry placed her finger on the state line.
“If they dare cross that—if they as much as dare!”
“If they dare we shall show them a few things.—Take all the men you need, Paul, to watch their movements. That will do.”
The forester lingered.
“You remember that we spoke the other day of the log house on Raccoon Creek, where the Appleweights had driven off our man?”
“Yes, Paul. It is where the state line crosses the heavy woods and the farthest outpost, so to speak, on my property. When you cross the little creek, you’re in South Carolina. You said some of these Appleweight fellows had been cutting off the timber down there, if I remember rightly.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the forester, twirling his cap awkwardly. “But some of the people on the estate have said——”
He broke off in an embarrassment so unlike him that Jerry and Ardmore looked at him curiously.
“Well, Paul, what’s the matter? If the cabin has been burned down it’s no serious matter.”