“If the law of the land don't protect me, I'll protect myself, sir,” he proclaimed. “I give ye fair warning! I ain't a-going to have my property interfered with no more.”
“But surely,” said Orde, “we have a right to run our logs through. It's an open river.”
“And hev ye been running your logs through?” cried the old man excitedly. “Hev ye? First off ye begin to tear down my dam; and then, when the river begins a-roarin' and a-ragin' through, then you tamper with my improvements furthermore, a-lowerin' the gate and otherwise a-modifyin' my structure.”
Orde stepped forward to say something further. Immediately Reed wheeled, his thumb on the hammer.
“All right, old Spirit of '76,” replied Orde. “Don't shoot; I'll come down.”
He walked back to the waiting row, smiling quizzically.
“Well, you calamity howlers, what do you think of it?”
Nobody answered, but everybody looked expectant.
“Think he'd shoot?” inquired Orde of Tom North.
“I know he would,” replied North earnestly. “That crazy-headed kind are just the fellers to rip loose.”