There were the repeated warnings of his superiors! The law would be obliged to investigate if Skulltree dam were wrecked, and would probe to the bottom of the moving reasons! Scandal, rank scandal! Craig could behold President Horatio Marlow as he sat that day with upraised, monitory forefinger, urging the touchy matter of credits and reputation. Craig could hear Dawes, the attorney: "That talk puts the thing up to you square-edged!" Down from the mist-shrouded cliff was advancing a vengeful man who walked with the footsteps of thunder. As Craig had looked ahead, basing his judgment on his experience with men and matters, it had seemed an easy matter to guard Skulltree with money and law. But in this astounding sortie of Latisan's, Comas money was of no use and Craig was developing an acute fear of the law which, invoked, would take matters into court. Over and over, his alarmed convictions pounded on his caution. He crouched under a rain of dirt and pebbles--then he ran away. When he reached the far shore he jumped into a bateau that was pulled up there. With all the power of his lungs he yelled for rowers. He was obliged to confess loudly and unreservedly that he was giving up the fight--was seeking a way of stopping Latisan--before any of his men would come from the shelter of woods and fog and serve him. He cursed them with the vigor of a master of galley slaves when the bateau was frothing along the deadwater. Then he bellowed into the fog, seeking a replying hail which would locate for him the Flagg crew. There was no repentance in him; his was a panic of compromise--a headlong rush to save himself from consequences. There was just as much uncertainty about what Latisan would do as there was about the dynamiter's exact location in that fog. Therefore, Craig announced himself with raucous staccato of: "I quit! I quit! Get that man! Tell him I quit!" Men hailed from the shore and their voices guided the rowers. Craig leaped from the bow of the bateau and waded for the last few yards. "Go stop him! Bring him here!" He tossed his arms. "Huh!" scoffed old Vittum. "That's a job for somebody who can tell which way the next stroke of lightning is heading." "I'll give five hundred dollars to the man who'll get to him and stop him before he smashes that dam!" Craig added to the other visions which had been torturing him the possible catastrophe of the Comas logs roaring through past the mouth of a useless canal; he could look ahead still farther and see the grins of the sawmill men down the Noda, setting their own prices. Once more Craig was finding that his money was getting him nothing that day, and his sense of helplessness was revealed by his sagging jowls and dolorous eyes; and he had always depended on what money could buy! There was no alacrity for service shown by any man of Flagg's crew.