“Who be I?” retorted the other angrily. “Humph! I don’t see that it makes no difference, but my name’s Joyce--John Joyce. An’ I ain’t the kind as backs down an’ takes water, believe me!” A singularly irritating smile curved the corners of Bob’s lips. His unruffled composure served, as he hoped it might, to increase the rage of Mr. Joyce. “Do you realize that you’re obstructing navigation?” he inquired suavely. “I don’t admit it,” snapped Joyce. “There’s plenty of room for your drive to git past if you had a gang that knew their business, instead of a lot o’ greenhorns.” “I dare say you could give us all points,” Bainbridge murmured smoothly, with just the right inflection of sarcasm to sting. It had suddenly occurred to him that the fellow’s object was to make him lose his temper, and thus precipitate a clash, during which almost anything might be accomplished. Not only did he refuse to let go his grip, but he did his very best to goad Joyce himself into flaming out, and possibly betraying a few secrets. “That’s hardly the question, though,” he went on swiftly. “Strikes me you’ve been rather premature in running out the boom. Your mill isn’t operating, and I have yet to see a single log coming downstream except our own.” “Never you mind that,” retorted Joyce hotly. “Do you think a man’s going to wait till his timber comes in sight afore makin’ arrangements to take care of it? You can’t come over me with no soft talk like that. The boom’s there, an’ there it stays. Half the river’s clear for you to use, an’ that’s all you gets.” “Hum! That’s your last word, is it?” inquired Bainbridge quietly. “You even refuse to let us swing the boom around so we can break our jam?” “I do!” replied the red-haired individual emphatically. “The first man that tries to monkey with my property will wish he hadn’t, that’s all I got to say.” He raised his automatic significantly, but Bob was not even looking at him. The young man’s gaze had swept out to the face of the jam, and in an incredibly short space an accurate picture of its appearance had been photographed on his brain. Still without giving Joyce the satisfaction of a glance, he turned away, motioning Peters to accompany him. “A put-up job, of course,” he said tersely, when they were through the circle of his own men. “Same gang who bought Schaeffer.” The jam boss nodded in a troubled way. “I’m afraid they’ve got us bad, too. It’s goin’ to take one long time pickin’ that jam apart, but I can’t see anythin’ else to do. I spose I’d better start ’em at it right away, sir.” “Not at all,” retorted Bob swiftly. “Do nothing of the kind. Let ’em stay just where they are, Jerry!” At the sound of his imperative undertone Calker hustled up. There was a brief interchange of words between the trio, during which the faces of both lumberjacks brightened--amazingly. Then all three disappeared into the bushes a little way upstream, from which they did not emerge for a considerable time.