“Quit it!” he commanded. “Let them go!”
The men grumbled. One or two were inclined to be openly rebellious.
“If I hear another peep out of you,” said Thorpe to these latter, “you can climb right aboard and take the return trip.” He looked them in the eye until they muttered, and then went on: “Now, we've got to get unloaded and our goods ashore before those fellows report to camp. Get right moving, and hustle!”
If the men expected any comment, approval, or familiarity from their leader on account of their little fracas, they were disappointed. This was a good thing. The lumber-jack demands in his boss a certain fundamental unapproachability, whatever surface bonhomie he may evince.
So Dyer and his men picked themselves out of the trouble sullenly and departed. The ex-scaler had nothing to say as long as he was within reach, but when he had gained the shore, he turned.
“You won't think this is so funny when you get in the law-courts!” he shouted.
Thorpe made no reply. “I guess we'll keep even,” he muttered.
“By the jumping Moses,” snarled Scotty Parsons turning in threat.
“Scotty!” said Thorpe sharply.
Scotty turned back to his task, which was to help the blacksmith put together the wagon, the component parts of which the others had trundled out.