Chapter 5

A couple more weeks went by. The spiritists acquired the old medical clinic at the foot of the mountain and reopened it, much to everyone in the area's joy. They would'nt have to go thirty miles for a doctor any more. Then one Monday morning Jeff, one of the club members, came charging into the factory and hurried over to Victor. "Hey!" the foreman cried, "You can't come in here!"
"I've got to talk to Victor!" the man panted, "It's an emergency!"
"Well, make it quick!" the foreman snorted and walked off.
"Victor!" Jeff began hurriedly, "They're closing the trails! They're closing the mountain! They're disassembling the gorge bridge!"
"What?" Victor cried. "The Spiritists," Jeff began again, "they've put up signs in all the trail's entrances and they're putting up barricades. They've got a crew disassembling the gorge bridge! They're going to take it out! I tried to reason with them, but they drove me off, when I refused to do the work I was hired for."
Victor stood bewildered, then saw the owner looking out his office window down into the shop. He laid down the rod he was working on, hurried across the shop, the owner opened the office door even before he got there. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Mr. Pike, sir," Victor began, "The Spiritists are closing the snowmobile trails and disasssembling the gorge bridge. Can the rest of the crew and I have today off and work Friday?"
The owner barely hesitated and nodded. "Certainly!" he remarked. "I'm not a snowmobeiler myself, but I know how much you people put into those trails in the last eight years. Certainly! Certainly! Go on! Go!"
"May I use the PA system?" Victor asked.
Mr. Pike pointed to it and nodded. Victor went over to it and flicked the switch. "Everybody listen up!" he announced. "I've just found out The Spiritists are closing the snowmobile trails and are disassembling the gorge bridge. All club members, I'm heading up that way. Come with me! Call anybody you can get ahold of. Have them meet up at the entrance to the gorge road. Hurry up!"
Two thirds of the shop's workers were snowmobilers. They were soon rushing to the parking lot, following Victor. By the time they reached the entrance a couple of dozen more cars were waiting there. The gate was closed. Victor pulled in and went to open it. A guard appeared.
"Sorry sir," he announced, "road's closed except to construction crews."
Victor shoved him aside, undid the gate, and began to open it. The man shoved him back and closed the gate. Two club members jumped over the gate, grabbed the man and hauled him back. Victor opened the gate, jumped back in his car, and drove through, the rest quickly followed him.
When they reached the gorge they found nearly half of the road bed across the bridge had been removed. Victor started up the bank and six security men with shotguns formed a line about half way up.
"That's far enough!" one of them cried. "Get back in your cars and leave immediately! This is private property. You have no business here."
"No business here?" Victor screamed, "We spent two years raising the money for the material to build that bridge! We spent another year building it. It belongs to us!"
Hatfield, The Spiritist's construction manager appeared. "You built it on this property," he announced, "without legal consent. You were never given permission by the owners of this property to expand those snowmobile trails, or, to build the structures you have built! They are being removed. From now on the mountain will be only for skiing and snowboarding. The records show that the previous owners failed because the skiers were driven off by the snowmobilers that they were constantly roaring down the cross country trails and the down hill slopes. From now on the machines will be kept off the mountain. Anyway, we do not like the noise. We prefer peace and quiet!"
"We HAD permission!" one of the club members screamed. "The executors, the controllers of the property gave us their consent to make improvements."
"The controllers had no right, legally," Hatfield answered, "to give such consent. Their only authority was to maintain the property in the state it was at until it was sold. You have no legal standing! LEAVE!"
The sheriff's cruiser pulled up and Sheriff Daniels, with considerable effort, climbed out. He adjusted his pants and wobbled up the hill. "Listen up!" he cried, "All you folks that don't belong here, go on home! Victor and I will stay and talk to these folks. Run along! Come on, go! Get out of here! I'm not going to tell you again! Go!"
The club members slowly returned to their vehicles. "You construction workers," the sheriff remarked, "why don't you knock off for today 'til we get this thing settled. Let's not remove any more property 'til we know just what's legal here?"
"Keep working gentlemen!" Hatfield called. "We intend to have this bridge out of here by tonight."
The sheriff looked at him with his mouth hanging open, then shut it. "I see!" he remarked. "The famous Spiritist no cooperation attitude. I'm asking you again, tell your people to stop working!"
"No!" Hatfield answered. "You don't give orders here, sheriff! We're perfectly within our rights. The materials from the bridge will be piled up down there by where the road widens. If the snowmobile club wishes to lay claim to them,

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