But again the timber magnate's eyes failed to meet the test of Ide's frank stare. "I've known you a good many years, Pulaski," said he. "I've done a lot of business with you, and you can't fool me for a minute. You've been into a milk-pan, for I can see cream on your whiskers." "I'm only warnin' you not to harbor such a criminal!" stormed the other. His wrath slipped its leash once more. The presence of Dwight Wade, his very silence, seemed tacit proclamation of victory and the boast of it. "The girl belongs back here, and we're goin' to have her back. If your men don't fetch her, mine will." But Ide set his short legs astride a little more solidly. "As first assessor of the nearest plantation, I can handle the State pauper business of these parts, and do it without help," he said. "You mean that meddlin' girl of yours is runnin' it," taunted Britt. In his heart the fond father realized the force of the taunt, and knew why he was blocking that trail so resolutely. A mother bear would have shown no more determination in closing the retreat of her cubs. "If for any reason that I don't understand as yet you want the guardianship of that girl, Britt," he declared, "come down any time you want to and get your rights legally. But just now I'm tellin' you again that you and your men can't get past here. And if you do, you'll go with cracked heads." And once more Pulaski D. Britt substituted oaths for action. Stamping back towards his men, he saw Tommy Eye squatting like a jack-rabbit on the top of the Durfy camp. That guileless marplot offered a fair target for his rage against the world in general. "MacLeod," bawled Britt to the boss, who had not yet pulled himself together after that final flash of scorn from the eyes of Nina Ide, "pull that drunken loafer off that roof and yard the men back to camp!" "I'm discharged out of your crew, Mr. Britt," squealed Tommy, a quaver of apprehensiveness in his voice. "I've discharged myself. I've told the truth about what you was tryin' to do. So I ain't fit for you to hire." It was not the unconscious satire of the statement that put a wire edge on the Honorable Pulaski's temper. It was Tommy Eye's rebelliousness, displayed for the first time in a long life of utter subservience. "You won't be fit for anything but bait for a bear-trap ten minutes after I get you back to camp," bellowed the tyrant. "MacLeod, get that man down!" "Don't you want to hire a teamster, Mr. Ide?" bleated Tommy, crawfishing to the peak of the low roof. "You know what I be on twitchro'd, ramdown, or in a yard. You don't find my hosses calked or shoulder-galled." He hastened in nervous entreaty: "You hire me, Mr. Ide. I never had a team sluiced yet. You know what I can do in the woods."