“Ye'd better go!” bellowed Connick. “Understand? I said ye'd better go. Go an' mind your business, an' if ye do that, not a man in my crew will step a foot on the Sunk-haze shore. But if ye stay here and meddle, then down come your houses and out go your cook-stoves. You know me! Get back on shore.” A tremendous roar from his men emphasized his demand. “If ye want these hearties loose up there, ye can have 'em in about two minutes!” he cried, threateningly. The Sunkhaze contingent rubbed elbows significantly, mumbled in conference, and scuffled slowly toward the shore. “Are you going to back down, men?” Parker shouted. “We've got wives an' children an' houses up there, mister,” said a voice from the crowd, “an' it's a cold night to be turned out-o'-doors. We know these fellers better'n what you do.” “But, men,” persisted Parker, “they won't dare to sack your village. Such things are not done in these days. The law--” “Law!” burst from Connick, jeeringly. “Law! Law!” echoed his men, with mocking laughter. “Why,” yelled Connick, “there ain't deputy sheriffs enough in this county to round us up once we get acrost the Poquette divide! There ain't a deputy sheriff that will dare to poke his nose within ten miles of our camps.” “That's right, Mr. Parker,” agreed one of the Sunkhaze crowd. “Once a crew burnt a smokin'-car when they were comin' up from--” “No yarns now, no yarns now!” Connick thrust himself against the Sunkhaze men and roughly elbowed them back. “Get on shore an' stay there.” Parker was left standing alone on the ice. His supporters scuffled away, muttering angry complaints, but offering no resistance. When the giant woodsman returned after hastening their departure, he was faced by the young man, still defiant. Connick cocked his head humorously and looked down on the engineer. Under all the big man's apparent fierceness there had been a flash of rough jocoseness in his tones at times. Parker saw plainly that he and his followers viewed the whole thing as a “lark,” and entertained little respect for their adversaries. “Connick, I warn you--” Parker began; but the giant chuckled, and said, tauntingly: “'Cluck, cluck!' said the bear. “I want to say to you, sir, that you are dealing with a large proposition if you propose to interfere with this railroad property. My backers--” “'Bow-wow!' said the fish.” The woodsman cried the taunt more insolently, and yet with a jeering joviality that irritated Parker more than downright abuse would have done. He started toward his engine, but Connick put out his big arm to interpose. “Poodle,” he said, “I've got a place for you. I'm the champion dog-catcher of the West Branch region.” He reached for Parker's collar, but Parker ducked under his arm, and as he came up struck out with a force that sent the astonished giant reeling backward. Fury and desperation were behind the blow. “Wal, of all the--” gasped Connick, pushing back his cap and staring in astonishment. His men laughed.