Captain Slater eased his burly form from the saddle, shook a cloud of dust from his travel-stained garments, then strode up to the lumbermen. He stood before his former employees, a stern figure of a man, like the symbol of outraged justice. Under his steely glare they seemed to perceptibly wilt and shrink away.
"Now then, Reynolds," his jaws clicked ominously, "I'm a-goin' ter see fair play."
"This hyar ain't yer lumber camp, Cap," growled Tom Smull.
"I want nothing from sich as you. That little shrimp o' a Pete, an' Griffin, an' you orter be tied up together like a bunch o' herrin' an' dropped clean off the earth."
"When ye was cap'n o' a floatin' tub, it's a wonder every man aboard didn't turn pirate," mumbled Griffin, as he and Smull hastily fell back before this outburst.
"Ye'd look 'andsomer if ye'd let out a few reefs in that face o' yourn, Griffin," the captain replied grimly. "Now then—"
"Say, captain!"
Bob Somers stepped up and whispered something in his ear.
"Hey?" Slater's red face took on a bewildered expression. He turned, his eyes roving in all directions. "What, Somers?"
Bob spoke quietly a second time.