"Eh? Not—not an accident?"
In an access of loyal rage Dawson seized him by the arm in a nervous clutch, and tried to drag him forward.
"Come on," he cried. "Let's find him. It's Mansell!"
With a sudden movement Dave flung him off, and the force he used nearly threw the foreman off his feet. His eyes were burning like two live coals.
"Come on!" he cried harshly, and Dawson was left to follow as he pleased.
CHAPTER XVII
THE LAST OF THE SAWYER
Dave's lead took the foreman in the direction of the wrecked office. Now, in calmer moments, the full extent of the damage became apparent. The first three sets of rollers were hopelessly wrecked, and the saws were twisted and their settings broken and contorted out of all recognition. Then the fire had practically destroyed the whole of the adjacent northwest corner of the mill. The office was a mere skeleton, a shattered shell, and the walls and flooring adjoining had been torn and battered into a complete ruin. In the midst of all this, half a dozen heavy logs, in various stages of trimming, lay scattered about where the machinery happened to have thrown them.
It was a sickening sight to the master of the mills, but in his present mood he put the feeling from him, lost in a furious desire to discover the author of the dastardly outrage.