"Mr. Balasco, we'll have to come to an understanding," said Owen, quietly but firmly. "I've got something very disagreeable to tell you, but that can't be helped. To come down to business, I received a telegram from Mr. Wilbur this morning." The lumber dealer started, and Dale imagined he clutched at the desk to steady himself. "A telegram?" he repeated slowly. "Yes, sir. In that telegram he stated that the contract with the railroad must be put through, and that work on the flume must stop." "Indeed! And what have you to do with my business, I'd like to know." "Nothing at all, sir, with your business; but everything with Mr. Wilbur's business. He is coming out here as soon as he can, and in the meantime he has appointed me his representative here." "You!" almost screamed Ulmer Balasco. "Yes, me. If you want to read the telegram, here it is." The lumber dealer fairly snatched the slip from Owen's grasp, and devoured its contents. His face grew pale, and it was impossible for him to hold the sheet of paper still. "So this is what you have been up to, eh?" he stammered. "Spies, just as I suspected." "We are not spies. Mr. Wilbur has been our friend, and when he asked us to let him know how things were going here we merely wrote him the truth." "You told me it was on account of a French-Canadian----" "So it was," put in Dale. "Mr. Wilbur has telegraphed to Mr. Rice about that man, and the sheriff is to arrest him." "And Mr. Rice is to assist me--in case I have any trouble here," put in Owen significantly. "Do you imagine I am going to abide by what that telegram says. Why, it isn't worth the paper it's written on!" fumed Ulmer Balasco. "I am master here; Wilbur has no authority whatever." "That is a matter of opinion." "No, it is a matter of fact--our agreement reads that way." "I haven't seen the agreement, but no matter what it says, you have no right to run this business so as to ruin Mr. Wilbur," went on Owen warmly. "Ruin him? Who says I am ruining him?" "I do. You are doing your best to run behind on that railroad contract. Instead of sending lumber down to the river, you are sending it up to the flume, and you are not cutting half as much----" "I won't listen!" shouted Ulmer Balasco. "I won't listen! I tell you I am master here. If I want to finish the flume I'll do it." "After the railroad contract is finished, not before," came stubbornly from Owen. "All that lumber is going down to the Columbia just as fast as the cars and the creek can carry it." "You defy me?" and now Ulmer Balasco shook his fist in the young lumberman's face. [Illustration: Ulmer Balasco shook his fist in the young lumberman's face.] "Put down that hand, Mr. Balasco," said Owen, a strange gleam in his eyes, and the hand fell in spite of the lumber dealer's effort to threaten. "There is no need of our having a fight over this thing. Either you'll agree to do as I say, or I shall call in the sheriff." "The sheriff?"