Then a look of eager interest came into his eyes. He pointed at the window.
"Here's Odd," he said. "And he's in a hurry."
Dawson threw open the door, and Simon Odd lumbered hurriedly into the room. He seemed to fill up the place with his vast proportions. His face was anxious and doubtful.
"I've had to shut down at the other mill, boss," he explained abruptly. "Ther' ain't no logs. Ther've been none for——"
"Thirty-six hours," broke in Dave, with an impatient nod. "I know."
"You know, boss?"
"Yes."
The master of the mills turned again to the window, and the two men watched him in silence. What would he do? This man to whom they looked in difficulty; this man who had never yet failed in resource, in courage, to meet and overcome every obstacle, every emergency that harassed a lumberman's life.
Suddenly he turned to them again. In his eyes there was a peculiar, angry light.
"Well?" he demanded, in a fierce way that was utterly foreign to him. "Well?" he reiterated, "what are you standing there for? Get you out, both of you. Shut this mill down, too!"