They carried three shotguns and a rifle.
"That's about enough of that," said the bearded man, quietly. "You let
my property alone. I don't want any trouble with you men, but I'll blow
hell out of the first man that touches those piles. I've had about
enough of this riverhog monkey-work."
He looked as though he meant business, as did his companions. When the
rivermen drew back, he took his position atop the disputed clump of
piles, his shotgun across his knees.
The driving crew retreated ashore. Larsen was plainly uncertain.
"I tell you, boys," said he, "I'll get back to town. You wait."
"Guess I'll go along," suggested Bob, determined to miss no phase of
this new species of warfare.
"What you going to do?" he asked Larsen when they were once on the
trail.
"I don't know," confessed the older man, rubbing his cap. "I'm just
goin' to see some lawyer, and then I'm goin' to telegraph the Company. I
wish Darrell was in charge. I don't know what to do. You can't expect
those boys to run a chance of gittin' a hole in 'em."
"Do you believe they'd shoot?" asked Bob.
"I believe so.
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