“You see here, Dutchy,” he bawled, “mebby you think you’ll wash his face with that, but you won’t.  A contract’s a contract.  We agreed to take out these trees and leave him for you to dispose of whatever way you please, provided you shut him up eternally on this deal.  But I’ll not see a tied man tormented by a fellow that he can lick up the ground with, loose, and that’s flat.  It raises my gorge to think what he’ll get when we’re gone, but you needn’t think you’re free to begin before.  Don’t you lay a hand on him while I’m here!  What do you say, boys?”

“I say yes,” growled one of McLean’s latest deserters.  “What’s more, we’re a pack of fools to risk the dirty work of silencing him.  You had him face down and you on his back; why the hell didn’t you cover his head and roll him into the bushes until we were gone?  When I went into this, I didn’t understand that he was to see all of us and that there was murder on the ticket.  I’m not up to it.  I don’t mind lifting trees we came for, but I’m cursed if I want blood on my hands.”

“Well, you ain’t going to get it,” bellowed Jack.  “You fellows only contracted to help me get out my marked trees.  He belong to Wessner, and it ain’t in our deal what happens to him.”

“Yes, and if Wessner finishes him safely, we are practically in for murder as well as stealing the trees; and if he don’t, all hell’s to pay.  I think you’ve made a damnable bungle of this thing; that’s what I think!”

“Then keep your thoughts to yourself,” cried Jack.  “We’re doing this, and it’s all planned safe and sure.  As for killing that buck—­come to think of it, killing is what he needs.  He’s away too good for this world of woe, anyhow.  I tell you, it’s all safe enough.  His dropping out won’t be the only secret the old Limberlost has never told.  It’s too dead easy to make it look like he helped take the timber and then cut.  Why, he’s played right into our hands.  He was here at the swamp all last night, and back again in an hour or so.  When we get our plan worked out, even old fool Duncan won’t lift a finger to look for his carcass.  We couldn’t have him going in better shape.”

“You just bet,” said Wessner.  “I owe him all he’ll get, and be damned to you, but I’ll pay!” he snarled at Freckles.

So it was killing, then.  They were not only after this one tree, but many, and with his body it was their plan to kill his honor.  To brand him a thief, with them, before the Angel, the Bird Woman, the dear Boss, and the Duncans—­Freckles, in sick despair, sagged against the ropes.

Then he gathered his forces and thought swiftly.  There was no hope of McLean’s coming.  They had chosen a day when they knew he had a big contract at the South camp.  The Boss could not come before tomorrow by any possibility, and there would be no tomorrow for the boy.  Duncan was on his way to the South camp, and the Bird Woman had said she would come as soon as she could.  After the fatigue of the party, it was useless to expect her and the Angel today, and God save them from coming!  The Angel’s father had said they would be as safe in the Limberlost as at home.  What would he think of this?