Facing him were five men with shovels and hammers, workmen of the Blackburn camp, interrupted evidently in the building of some sort of contraption which led away into the woods.
Houston looked more closely, then gasped.

It was another flume; they were making a connection with his own; already water had been diverted from the main flume and was flowing down the newly boarded conduit which led to the Blackburn mill.

A lunge and he had taken his place beside Renaud.
"What's this mean ?" he demanded angrily, to hear his words echoed by the booming voice of his big companion: "Ah, _oui_! Yes--what this mean?
Huh ?" The foreman looked up caustically.
"I've told you about ten times," he answered, addressing himself to Ba'tiste.

"We're building a connection on our flume." "Our flume ?" Houston gasped the words.

"Where do you get that 'our' idea?
I own this flume and this lake and this flume site--" "If your name's Houston, I guess you do," came the answer.