“I see,” said Bob, vastly amused at this sidelight on the family reputation.  “What would you do here?”

“I don’t know,” replied the riverman, “but I wouldn’t lay around and wait.”

“Why don’t some of you fellows go out there and storm the fort, if you feel that way?” asked Bob.

“Why?” demanded the riverman, “I won’t let any boss stump me; but why in hell should I go out and get my hide full of birdshot?  If this outfit don’t know enough to get its drive down, that ain’t my fault.”

Bob had seen enough of the breed to recognize this as an eminently characteristic attitude.

“Well,” he remarked comfortably, “somebody’ll be down from the mill soon.”

The riverman turned on him almost savagely.

“Down soon!” he snorted.  “So’ll the water be ‘down soon.’  It’s dropping every minute.  That telegraft of yours won’t even start out before to-morrow morning.  Don’t you fool yourself.  That Twin Falls outfit is just too tickled to do us up.  It’ll be two days before anybody shows up, and then where are you at?  Hell!” and the old riverman relapsed into a disgusted silence.

Considerably perturbed, Bob hunted up Larsen.

“Look here, Larsen,” said he, “they tell me a delay here is likely to hang up this drive.  Is that right?”

The old man looked at his interlocutor, his brow wrinkled.

“I wish Darrell was in charge,” said he.

“What would Darrell do that you can’t do?” demanded Bob bluntly.

“That’s just it; I don’t know,” confessed Larsen.

“Well, I’d get some weapons up town and drive that gang off,” said Bob heatedly.

“They’d have a posse down and jug the lot of us,” Larsen pointed out, “before we could clear the river.”  He suddenly flared up.  “I ain’t no river boss, and I ain’t paid as a river boss, and I never claimed to be one.  Why in hell don’t they keep their men in charge?”

“You’re working for the company, and you ought to do your best for them,” said Bob.

But Larsen had abruptly fallen into Scandinavian sulks.  He muttered something under his breath, and quite deliberately arose and walked around to the other side of the fire.

Twice during the night Bob arose from his blankets and walked down to the riverside.  In the clear moonlight he could see one or the other of the millmen always on watch, his shotgun across his knees.  Evidently they did not intend to be surprised by any night work.  The young fellow returned very thoughtful to his blankets, where he lay staring up against the canvas of the tent.

Next morning he was up early, and in close consultation with Billy the teamster.  The latter listened attentively to what Bob had to say, nodding his head from time to time.  Then the two disappeared in the direction of the wagon, where for a long interval they busied themselves at some mysterious operation.

When they finally emerged from the bushes, Bob was carrying over his shoulder a ten-foot poplar sapling around the end of which was fastened a cylindrical bundle of considerable size.  Bob paid no attention to the men about the fire, but bent his steps toward the river.  Billy, however, said a few delighted words to the sprawling group.  It arose with alacrity and followed the young man’s lead.