Bob stared at the old man so long that the latter felt called upon to reassure him.
"I wouldn't take it so hard, if I was you, son," said he. "I really don't think all these bluffs of Baker's amount to much. The findings of that commission ain't never been acted on, which would seem to show that it didn't come to nothing at the time; and I don't have the slightest notion in the world but what the whole thing will blow up in smoke."
"As far as that is concerned, I haven't either," said Bob; "though you never can tell, and defending such a suit is always an expensive matter. But here's the trouble; my father is Congressman from Michigan, he's been in several pretty heavy fights this last year, and has some powerful enemies; he is up for reelection this fall."
"Suffering cats!" whistled California John.
"A lot could be made of a suit of that nature," said Bob, "whether it had any basis, or not."
"I've run for County Supervisor in my time," said California John simply.
"Well, what is your advice?" asked Bob.
"Son, I ain't got none," replied the old man.
That very evening a messenger rode over from the mill bringing a summons from Welton. Bob saddled up at once. He found the lumberman, not in the comfortable sitting room at his private sleeping camp, but watching the lamp alone in the office. As Bob entered, his former associate turned a troubled face toward the young man.
"Bob," said he at once, "they've got the old man cinched, unless you'll help out."