"Ye sartingly do! Lovell"—Cap Slater leaned over; his brawny fist banged down on a near-by desk—"Lovell, them two young lubbers ain't the only ones what knows it, either." He paused impressively. "Pete has went an' told some o' my men."
"I'm sorry to hear that, captain!"
"Ye know what the talk o' findin' gold will do, hey? It kin bust up a lumber camp, or anything else, quicker'n ye kin fire a lazy logger. An', wusser'n that, in this case, it kin put them lads in danger. They'll be follered."
Uncle Stanley, sorely disturbed, paced the room.
"You think so, Captain Slater?" he queried, anxiously.
"I sartingly do!"
"I only wish I had known this an hour ago. They never should have been allowed to go—never!"
A shadow fell across the doorway; Pete Colliver, his face wearing an impudent grin, was staring in.
"There's the little sardine what done it, now!" said Cap Slater, wrathfully. "If I was you, Lovell, I wouldn't stan' him an' his impudence around this camp three minutes longer; I'd chuck 'im out so hard he'd never stop rollin'."
"It ain't ye what could do it, old feller," snarled Pete, with a leer, "an' I gives ye a bit o' adwice—don't start nothin'!"