Kate ran her eye over the offending length. The man’s point seemed obvious.
“It certainly looks like a join,” she admitted unwillingly.
For a moment Billy was disconcerted. But his inventive faculties quickly supplied him with a way out. Anyway, he could break up the other’s argument.
“Isn’t nothin’!” he cried, with fine scorn. “That don’t need to worry you. Ain’t we got the tallest pine in creation right here on the spot?”
The postmaster’s eyes widened. Even Kate was startled at the suggestion.
“You’d cut down the old tree?” she inquired.
“Wher’s your sense?” demanded Dy roughly. “Cut down the old pine? Who’s goin to do it? Who’s got the grit?”
“It don’t need grit to saw that tree—only a saw,” smiled Billy, provokingly.
But Dy had no sense of humor at the moment.
“Pshaw! What about the Indian cuss on it?” he demanded. “Ther’ ain’t a boy in this valley ’ud drive a saw into that tree. You’re talking foolish.”