that N.C.O. outfit, and it's a logging-road and not intended to build
through to Grant's Pass at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy are at Water and
B streets this very instant with a gang of fifty men cutting in a
jump-crossing of my line, curse them! They'll have it in by six
o'clock to-morrow morning if something isn't done--and once they get
it in, the fat's in the fire.

"Telephone the chief of police and order him to take his entire force
down there, if necessary, and stop that work. To blazes with that
temporary franchise! You stop that work for two hours, and I'll do
the rest. Tell the chief of police not to recognize that temporary
franchise. He can be suspicious of it, can't he, and refuse to let
the work go on until he finds you? And you can be hard to find for
two hours, can you not? Delay, delay, man! That's all I want... Yes,
yes, I understand. You get down about daylight and roast the chief of
police for interfering, but in the meantime!... Thank you,
Poundstone, thank you. Good-bye."

He stood at the telephone, the receiver still held to his ear and his
right forefinger holding down the hook while the line cleared. When
he spoke again, Shirley knew he was calling his mill-office. He got a
response immediately, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour.

"Sexton? Pennington speaking. I've sent over the Black Minorca with a
rifle and sixty rounds of ammunition... What? You can hear him
shooting already? Bully boy with a crockery eye! He'll clean that
gang out and keep them from working until the police arrive. You've
telephoned Rondeau, have you?... Good! He'll have his men waiting at
the log-landing, and there'll be no delay. As soon as you've seen the
switch-engine started for the woods, meet me down at Water and B