sent McGinnis reeling to the
ground. He would have kicked him with his spiked boots as he lay, in the
fashion of the lumber camps, but the Supervisor, showing not the
slightest fear of the infuriated giant, quietly stepped between.

"This fight's none of my making or my choosing," he said, "but I'll see
that it's fought fair."

But before the bullying millman could turn his anger upon the
self-appointed referee, McGinnis was up on his feet.

"Let me at him," he cried, "I'll show him a trick or two for that."

Again the fight changed color. McGinnis was not smiling, but neither had
he lost his temper. His vigilance had doubled and his whole frame
seemed to be of steel springs. Blow after blow came crashing straight
for him, but the alert Irishman evaded them by the merest fraction of an
inch. Two fearful swings from Peavey Jo followed each other in rapid
succession, both of which McGinnis avoided by stepping inside them, his
right arm apparently swinging idly by his side. Then suddenly, at a
third swing, he ran in to meet it, stooped and brought up his right with
all the force of arm and shoulder and with the full spring of the whole
body upwards. It is a difficult blow to land, but deadly. It caught
Peavey Jo on the point of the chin and he went down.

One of the mill hands hastened to the boss.

"You've killed him, I think," he said.

"Don't you belave it," said McGinnis; "he was born to be hanged, an'
hanged he'll be."

But the big lumberman gave no sign of life.

"I have seen a man killed by that uppercut, though," said the Irishman a
little more dubiously, as the minutes passed by and no sign of
consciousness was apparent, "but I don't believe I've got the strength
to do it."

Several moments passed and then Peavey Jo gave a deep respiration.

"There!" said McGinnis triumphantly. "I told ye he'd live to be
hanged." He looked around for the appreciation of the spectators. "But
it was a bird of a punch I handed him," he grinned.

[Illustration: TRAIN-LOAD FROM ONE TREE.

Temporary railroad built through the forest to the sawmill.

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service._]

CHAPTER IX

A HARD FOE TO CONQUER

With the defeat of Peavey Jo, and the evidence that he was not too
seriously hurt by the licking he had received, the Supervisor's
attention promptly returned to the question for which he had come to the
mill. Ben had struggled up to a sitting posture, and Merritt repeated
his question