"Perfectly so, and thank you ever so much. What is the excitement out there?" with a nod towards the street. "Jacks comin' in for the early work in the woods. The foremen are hirin' 'em here and sendin' 'em on to the different camps. The whole bunch is just spoilin' for fight. Better not stir 'em up unless your crowd is lookin' for trouble," advised the storekeeper. "Oh, no. Nothing like that," laughed Grace Harlowe, laying the money for their supplies on the counter. "Nothing wrong outside, is there, Hippy?" she asked quickly as the lieutenant came in rather hurriedly. "No. I'm after candy." "That is fine. Buying candy for Nora and the girls," glowed Grace. "My husband seldom thinks to bring me candy, and--" "For Nora? No. I'm getting the candy for the bronco and the bull pup--trying to buy my way into their good graces, as it were. Neither one of them takes to the uproar in the street. The bronc' is threatening to bolt, and Hindenburg has declared war on the lumberjack tribe because one of them poked a stick in his ribs just now." Grace, after thanking the storekeeper for his courtesy, went out laughing, but the instant she stepped into the street she intuitively sensed a change in the spirit of the crowd there. The jacks had fallen silent in comparison with their previous uproarious attitude--sullen and threatening, it seemed to her. "What's wrong here, Elfreda?" she asked, stepping up beside Miss Briggs' pony. "A jack tried to pull Emma from her horse, probably out of mischief. Tom jumped his pony over and knocked the fellow down with his fist. Three or four others started for him. Tom rode one of them down and the others ran into the crowd for protection. I think we are headed for trouble," prophesied J. Elfreda. "Grace, where is Hippy?" called Tom Gray anxiously. "In the store buying candy for the pup." "Stand back, you fellows!" commanded Tom sternly as he discovered that the jacks were crowding closer and closer to the little group of horsewomen. "We don't mind sport so far as the men are concerned, but you must let these young women alone. Hurry, Hippy!" he urged, as Lieutenant Wingate appeared at the store door. "Overland!" called Grace, which was the rallying hail of the Overland Riders, and by which signal Lieutenant Wingate knew that all was not well with his companions. Hippy jumped from the store porch and strode to his pony. "What is it?" he questioned sharply, taking Ginger's rein from Nora and vaulting into his saddle to the accompaniment of joyous barks from Hindenburg. "Reckon these wild jacks are getting ready to rush us. Keep your eyes peeled," warned Tom Gray. "Here they come! Look out!" called Grace. "Let go of my bridle, you ruffian!" they heard Anne Nesbit cry, and as they looked they saw her bring down her riding crop across the face of a lumberjack who had grasped her pony's bridle and was trying to separate the animal from the others of the party. CHAPTER III THE CHARGE OF THE JACKS