Then it was a question of breaking the jam. This had to be done by pulling out or chopping through certain “key” logs which locked the whole mass. Men stood under the face of imminent ruin--over them a frowning sheer wall of bristling logs, behind which pressed the weight of the rising waters--and hacked and tugged calmly until the mass began to stir. Then they escaped. A moment later, with a roar, the jam vomited down on the spot where they had stood. It was dangerous work. Just one half day later it had to be done again, and for the same reason. This time Thorpe went back with Shearer. No one was at the dam, but the gates were closed. The two opened them again. That very evening a man rode up on horseback inquiring for Mr. Thorpe. “I'm he,” said the young fellow. The man thereupon dismounted and served a paper. It proved to be an injunction issued by Judge Sherman enjoining Thorpe against interfering with the property of Morrison & Daly,--to wit, certain dams erected at designated points on the Ossawinamakee. There had not elapsed sufficient time since the commission of the offense for the other firm to secure the issuance of this interesting document, so it was at once evident that the whole affair had been pre-arranged by the up-river firm for the purpose of blocking off Thorpe's drive. After serving the injunction, the official rode away. Thorpe called his foreman. The latter read the injunction attentively through a pair of steel-bowed spectacles. “Well, what you going to do?” he asked. “Of all the consummate gall!” exploded Thorpe. “Trying to enjoin me from touching a dam when they're refusing me the natural flow! They must have bribed that fool judge. Why, his injunction isn't worth the powder to blow it up!” “Then you're all right, ain't ye?” inquired Tim. “It'll be the middle of summer before we get a hearing in court,” said he. “Oh, they're a cute layout! They expect to hang me up until it's too late to do anything with the season's cut!” He arose and began to pace back and forth. “Tim,” said he, “is there a man in the crew who's afraid of nothing and will obey orders?” “A dozen,” replied Tim promptly. “Who's the best?” “Scotty Parsons.” “Ask him to step here.” In a moment the man entered the office. “Scotty,” said Thorpe, “I want you to understand that I stand responsible for whatever I order you to do.” “All right, sir,” replied the man. “In the morning,” said Thorpe, “you take two men and build some sort of a shack right over the sluice-gate of that second dam,--nothing very fancy, but good enough to camp in. I want you to live there day and night. Never leave it, not even for a minute. The cookee will bring you grub. Take this Winchester. If any of the men from up-river try to go out on the dam, you warn them off. If they persist, you shoot near them. If they keep coming, you shoot at them. Understand?” “You bet,” answered Scotty with enthusiasm. “All right,” concluded Thorpe.