addressed in pencil and posted from Pancake. He opened it absently. The message had been written on rough tablet paper. It read:
"John Taylor Sir Well are you going to settel or will i have to seu you My damages is not Grate but unless i am paid 1000$ I will law you out of the county Yrs respy. Chas Stump esq."
He frowned over this. Goddard came in and he showed it to him. Milt laughed in the superior manner he had adopted toward Taylor, but condescended to say:
"Miss Foraker has a stack of 'em a foot high. Everybody who comes here from outside or anybody who has any property here gets those from Charley. He'll be around to see you."
Taylor had not been at the mill an hour the next morning when Charley Stump appeared, pushing his safety, that guilty look in his watery eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Taylor," he said, halting at a distance.
"Hello, Charley."
"Fine weather, ain't it?"
"Right."
John was copying from a tally sheet and paid no more attention to the old man until he had finished. Then he turned and looked squarely at him. Charley's hand caressed the bent handle-bar and his old eyes shifted uneasily.
"Your logs is turnin' out good, Mr. Taylor?"
"Fairly well."
"That's fine. You like it here, Mr. Taylor?"
"You bet, Charley!"
"Well—that's good," falteringly, as though he had started to say something else.
