“I gave one of them a telegram to send to Daly,” replied Orde. “Daly will be up to bail them out.”
Once more they hid in the woods; and again, after a longer interval, the mill owner and the sheriff reappeared. Reed appeared to be expostulating violently, and a number of times pointed up river; but the sheriff went ahead stolidly to the dam, summoned those working below, and departed up the road as before. Reed stood uncertain until he saw the rivermen beginning to re-emerge from the brush, then followed the officer at top speed.
Without the necessity of command, a half-dozen men leaped down on the apron. The previous crews had made considerable progress in weakening the heavy supports. As soon as these should be cut out and the backing removed, the mere sawing through of the massive sill should carry away the whole obstruction.
“Next time will decide it,” remarked Orde. “If the sheriff brings a posse and sits down to lay for us, of course we won't be able to get near to finish the job.”
“I didn't think that of George Morris,” commented Sims in an aggrieved way. “He was a riverman himself once before he was sheriff.”
“He's got to obey orders, and serve a warrant when it's issued, of course,” replied Orde to this. “What did you expect?”
At the end of another hour, which brought the time to four o'clock, the sheriff made his third appearance—this time in a side-bar buggy.
“I wish I dared join that confab,” said Orde, “and hear what's going on, but I'm afraid he'd jug me sure.”
“He wouldn't jug me,” spoke up Newmark. “I'll go down.”
“Bully for you!” agreed Orde.