"It's a great go, all right," said Jimmy, weakly.
"What does all this mean, Reynolds?" bellowed Slater, as his eyes ran over the group in a fierce, questioning stare.
"Means? Why, it means that these men have swiped a claim—a claim that rightfully belongs to us," spoke up Bob, as soon as his astonishment allowed him to speak.
"They hev, hey?" The answer seemed to put Cap Slater into a towering rage; he shook his fist violently in the air. "Ter think that arter all the trouble I has went to it were too late ter prewent this! It's nuff ter make a biled owl blink." Slater's tones, too, spoke volumes of disappointment and chagrin. "I want the hull story; an' I want it quick!"
"These two men, Smull and Griffin"—Bob pointed an accusing finger at the lumberjacks—"held us up and stole our map; and now they want to start a fight."
Captain Slater's face had darkened by degrees, until a heavier scowl had perhaps never rested upon it.
"The most disgracefulest thing I ever hear tell of! Never thought as how ye'd do anything like that, Jim Reynolds."
His voice roared above the steady drone of the torrent.
"Anybody else would hev done the same thing," mumbled Jim.
"I don't wonder yer voice has got weak. I'm a-comin' closer, so ye kin whisper."