A long line had already been made
fast to the raft, and the small boat with two men on board was
returning from fastening the warp. Captain Josh ceased rowing and
waited. Then he caught up his rifle, and held it in readiness.
"Hold on there!" he roared. "What's the meanin' of all this?"
"None of your business," was the gruff and somewhat startled reply.
"Get out of the way or we'll run ye down!"
"Is that so?" and the captain drew back the hammer of his rifle.
"Bluff all ye like, but I've something here which does more'n bluff.
Stop rowin', I tell ye, or I'll blow yer heads off!"
It was remarkable what an effect these words had upon the
night-prowlers. They could see, as well, the levelled rifle, and they
believed that the man holding it meant business. They stopped rowing,
but the boat still glided onward.
"Back water, and keep away from the tug!" the captain commanded.
The men obeyed, and soon the boat was lying but a few yards off.
"There, that's better," the captain commented. "Now, what have yez to
say about yer actions here?"
"We're only obeyin' orders," was the surly reply. "We were told to
come fer these logs."
"Who told ye?"
"Nick Taftie. We're workin' fer him.
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