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y him down the river trail, and Bob, out of curiosity, went along, too.
“It’s mossbacks,” the messenge nike air max r explained, “and them deadheads we been carrying along. They’ve rigged up a little sawmill down there, where they’re cutting what the farmers haul in to ’em. And then, besides, they’ve planted a bunch of piles right out in the middle of the stream and boomed in their side, and they’re out there with pike-poles, nailin’ onto every stick of deadhead that comes along.”
“Well, that’s all right,” said Larsen. “I gu nike air max sale ess they got a right to them as long as we ain’t marked them.”
“They can have their deadheads,” agreed the riverman, “but their piles have jammed our drive and hung her.”
“We’ll break the jam,” said Larsen.
Arrived at the scene of difficulty, Bob looked about him with great interest. The jam was apparently locked hard and fast against a clump of piles driven about in the centre of the stream. These had evidently been planted as the extreme outwork of a long shunting boom. Men working there could shunt into the sawmill enclosure that portion of the drive to which they could lay claim. The remainder could proceed down the open channel to the left. That was the theory. Unfortunately, this division of the river’s width so congested matters that the whole drive had hung.
The jam crew were at work, but even Bob’s unpractised e nike air max 1 ye saw that their task was stupendous. Even should they succeed in loosening the breast, there could be no reason to suppose the performance would not have to be repeated over and over again as the close-ranked drive came against the obstacle.
Larsen took one look, then made his way across to the other side and down to the mill. Bob followed. The little sawmill was going full blast under the handling of three men and a boy. Everything was done in the most primitive manner, by main strength, awkwardness, and old-fashioned tools.
“Who’s boss?” yelled La nike air max 95 rsen against the clang of the mill.
A slow, black-bearded man stepped forward.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Our drive’s hung up against your boom,” yelled Larsen.
The man raised his hand and the machinery was suddenly stilled.
“So I perceive,” said he.
“Your boom-pil cheap nike air max es are drove too far out in the stream.”
“I don’t know about that,” objected the mossback.
“I do,” insisted Larsen. “Nobody on earth could keep from jamming, the way you got things fixed.”
“That’s none of my business,” said the man steadily.
“Well, we’ll have to take out that fur clump of piles to get our jam broke.”
“I don’t know about that,” repeated the man.
Larsen apparently paid no attention to this last remark, but tramped back to the jam. There he ordered a couple of men out with axes, and others with tackle. But at that moment the three men and the boy appeared. They carried three shotguns and a rifle.
“That’s about enough of th cheap nike air max at,” 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 eno M ugh 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 B cheap nike air max trainers ob.
“I believe s M o. It’s a long chance, anyhow.”
But in Twin Falls they received scant sympathy and encouragement. The place was distinctly bucolic, and as such opposed instinctively to larger mills, big millmen, lumber, lumbermen and all pertaining thereunto. They tolerated the drive because, in the first place they had to; and in the nike air max 90 sale second place there was some slight profit to be made. But the rough rivermen antagonized them, and they were never averse to seeing these buccaneers of the streams in difficulties. Then, too, by chance the country lawyers Larsen consulted happened to be attorneys for the little sawmill men. Larsen tried in his blundering way to express his feeling that “nobody had a right to hang our drive.” His explanations were so involved and futile that, without thinking, Bob struck in.
“Surely these men have no right to obstruct as they do. Isn’t there some law against interfering with navigation?”
“The stream is not navigable,” returned the lawyer curtly.
Bob’s memory vouchsafed M a confused recollection of something read sometime, somewhere.
“Hasn’t a stream been declared navigable when logs can be driven in it?” he asked.
“Are you in charge of this drive?” the lawyer asked, turning on him sharply.
“Why–no,” confessed Bob.
“Have you anything to do with this question?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
“Then I fail to see why I should answer your questions,” said the lawyer, with finality. “As to your question,” he went on to Larsen with equal coldness, “if you have any doubts as to Mr. Murdock’s nike air max classic rights in the stream, you have the recourse of a suit at law to settle that point, and to determine the damages, if any.”
Bob found himself in t nike air max 90 he street with Larsen.
“But they haven’t got no right to stop our drive _dead_ that way,” expostulated the old man.
Bob’s temper was somewhat ruffled by his treatment at the hands of the lawyer.
“Well, they’ve done it, whether they have the right to or not,” he said shortly; “what next?”
“I guess I’ll telegraph Mr. Welton,” said Larsen.
He did so. The two returned to camp. The rivermen were loafing in camp awaiting Larsen’s reappearance. The jam was as before. Larsen walked out on the logs. The boy, seated on the clump of piles, gave a shrill whistle. Immediately from the little mill appeared the brown-bearded man and his two companions. They picked their way across the jam to the piles, where they roosted, their weapons across their knees, until Larsen had returned to the other bank.

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