progress. It went beneath the path and entered a seed bed, where stood pine trees no higher than a man's finger is long. Taylor watched the tiny trees heaving before the disturbance, saw their hair-like roots break through the loam. He removed his pipe and looked toward the shanty for Joe.
"By Jove!" he muttered. "That'll hurt 'em."
He walked quickly out of the nursery.
Joe was on the deacon bench, filling his pipe. Two of the men were with him and Taylor knew that the woodsman was settling himself for a yarn. He hesitated as Joe looked at him with indifference, but he went on down the room and stopped by the group.
"I was in the nursery, Joe," he said, "and I saw something you might want to know." The older man crammed the Peerless into his pipe-bowl and glared up at the intruder. "There's a mole in one of the seed beds and—"
No chance to finish! With a snort of alarm Joe was on his feet, hurrying toward the door.
"Come on," he snapped, when John did not follow. "Show me where!"
Taylor followed at a trot as Joe hastened across the open space and in the dusk searched for the telltale welt in the soft earth.
"There! See?"
Joe had seen the welt and the disturbed trees and he commenced to curse, steadily, frightfully, as he floundered about in the darkness.
"Cut back to th' shanty an' git somethin'!" he snapped. "Somethin' to make a widder mole—'n axe or anythin'—cut an' run for it!"
Taylor cut and ran, passing the two who had been with
