“Good-morning, gentlemen,” replied the apparition.
“Nice dam you got here,” went on Orde.
Reed nodded, his fiery eyes fixed unblinking on the riverman.
“But you haven't been quite square to us,” said Orde. “You aren't giving us much show to get our logs out.”
“How so?” snapped the owner, his thin lips tightening.
“Oh, I guess you know, all right,” laughed Orde, clambering leisurely back to the top of the dam. “That sluice is a good six foot too high.”
“Is that so!” cried the old man, plunging suddenly into a craze of excitement. “Well, let me tell you this, Mr. Man, I'm giving you all the law gives you, and that's the natural flow of the river, and not a thing more will you get! You that comes to waste and destroy, to arrogate unto yourselves the kingdoms of the yearth and all the fruits thereof, let me tell you you can't override Simeon Reed! I'm engaged here in a peaceful and fittin' operation, which is to feed the hungry by means of this grist-mill, not to rampage and bring destruction to the noble forests God has planted! I've give you what the law gives you, and nothin' more!”
Somewhat astonished at this outbreak, the two rivermen stood for a moment staring at the old man. Then a steely glint crept into Orde's frank blue eye and the corners of his mouth tightened.
“We want no trouble with you, Mr. Reed,” said he, “and I'm no lawyer to know what the law requires you to do and what it requires you not to do. But I do know that this is the only dam on the river with sluices built up that way, and I do know that we'll never get those logs out if we don't get more draw on the water. Good-day.”
Followed by the reluctant North he walked away, leaving the gaunt figure of the dam owner gazing after them, his black garments flapping about him, his hands clasped behind his back, his ruffled plug hat thrust from his forehead.