While they were resting Bob attempted to pet the dogs, but low, deep throated growls warned him not to get too friendly.
“They no like strangers,” Jacques explained. “Take um three four days geet quainted, then they make friend all right if um like you.”
“I think I’ll take your word for it,” Bob laughed. “That big leader has sure got a dandy set of teeth and he looks as though he’d rather enjoy taking a sample out of my leg.”
In a few minutes they were off again, but now, in obedience to a command from Jacques, the dogs set a more moderate pace. Still it was, as Jack declared, plenty fast enough, and at the end of another hour Bob had to call a second halt. At ten o’clock they reached the spot where they had spent the first night of the trip, and here they stopped to cook their dinner and feed the dogs.
“We mak de carry by seex o’clock eef all goes well,” Jacques declared as he began to harness the dogs again.
As a matter of fact they did a little better than his estimate, for at half-past five the lights of the little settlement hove in sight.
“Hello, just in time to eat. Hurry up and take a seat,” was Ezra Kimball’s greeting as they pushed open the door of the store. “Did you get the deed, or had he too much lead?” he asked as soon as they were fairly inside.
“We got it all right, thanks to you,” Bob replied.
“That’s the stuff. Knew you were good enough,” Ezra chuckled as he opened a door at the back of the store and called:
“Supper ready, mother? Put on two more plates and then another.”
“Don’t say that you’ve got trout for supper, Ezra,” Jack said anxiously.
“Not a trout, that I know about,” Ezra assured him, and Jack explained his antipathy to the fish.
“We’ve eaten so many trout since we’ve been gone that I’ll be ashamed to ever look one in the face again,” he declared.
His fears were groundless and, while they were eating the excellent supper which Ezra’s wife sat before them, they told again the story of their trip. There was a ’phone in the store, and as soon as supper was over Bob called his father and told him of the recovery of the deed.
“That’s fine,” Mr. Golden declared, his voice expressing his pleasure. “That will save me a good many thousand dollars. You two boys certainly do beat the Dutch. Tom ’phoned yesterday from Greenville and said that Ben had begun to cut on the tract. Now I’ll be up in a few days, as soon as I can get away, but when you get back to camp you might go and see Ben and tell him that you have found the deed, but don’t take it with you.”
Bob gave his father a brief account of their trip but did not mention the wolves, as he knew that the thought would worry him. As soon as he told him of their meeting with Jacques and that the latter was going to Greenville the next day, Mr. Golden suggested that they give the deed to him and have him leave it at the First National Bank.
“It’ll be safe there,” he said, “and I’m afraid it won’t be at the camp, as the safe there does not amount to much.”
The boys were very tired and went to bed soon after supper, knowing that Jacques wished to get a fairly early start the next morning.
The first man they saw, as they entered the lumber camp the next day, was Tom Bean. Jacques had not stopped, as he wished to reach Greenville as soon as possible to dispose of his furs. But he had promised them that he was coming back in a day or two and would stay a few days with them. As soon as they saw Tom they knew that something was wrong. Tom never wore that look on his face unless he was deeply troubled. However, his face brightened as he caught sight of the two boys.
“Sure an’ it’s about time yez was a gitting back,” he called from the office door. “What luck?” he asked, as he came forward to meet them, holding out both hands.
“The best in the world,” Bob replied, as he shook one hand while Jack did the same to the other.
“Glory be! Sure an’ I knowed ye’d do it if it could be did. But come on in the office an’ tell us all about it.”
Tom listened without once interrupting while they told about the trip, and when they had finished he congratulated them heartily.
“But what’s the trouble here, Tom?” Bob asked. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that something had gone wrong, so out with it.”
“Ye said a mouthful then,” Tom replied gloomily, as he thrust a big hunk of wood into the fire. “Sure and there’s the dickens to pay, so there is. Day afore yisterday Jim broke his off hind leg and o’ course had ter be shot, and thin yisterday mornin’ when the drivers went to hitch up, they found six o’ the horses sick, and two o’ thim has died since. This mornin’ three more were sick in the same way, and thot laves us wid only three ter do the haulin’.”
“But what seems to be the matter with them?” Jack asked anxiously, as Tom paused.
“Sure and it’s meself as don’t know. I had Doc Sam up from Greenville yisterday but all he could say was thot they must a eat sumpin thot give ’em the colic.”
“Do you suppose it’s some more of Ben’s work?”
“Niver a bit o’ doubt of it,” Tom replied quickly, and there was in his voice a note of anger which the boys had seldom heard. “Somebody has put sumpin in the feed as did it and who else would be after doin’ a mane trick like thot?”
“Have you told Father?” Bob asked.
“Not yit. I’m after goin’ down ter the village right after dinner and see if I kin hire some horses, and I’ll telephone him then. But it’s meself thot’s afeared thot I can’t git a horse at all at all, and there’s the logs a pilin’ up and no horses ter haul thim.”
“I had Father on the ’phone last night and he said that Ben had started to cut on the tract,” Bob said.
“Sure and he’s been cuttin’ fer two days now, and he got all of 100,000 fate down areddy, and it’s the finest spruce yer iver laid yer eyes on.”
At that moment the dinner horn sounded its welcome blast through the forest and telling Tom to keep up his courage, the boys hurried to the mess house. Soon the men began to troop in by twos and threes, and as they caught sight of the boys all had a hearty word of greeting for them, especially Jean Larue.
“I mees you beeg plenty,” the latter declared as he took his seat beside Jack. “I tink it be one two week you been gone, oui?”
“Hardly so long as that,” Bob laughed, as he heaped his plate with potatoes and beef steak. “But we’re mighty glad to be back.”
As soon as dinner was over Tom harnessed his driving horse to the light cutter and was off for Greenville. The boys, as soon as the men had returned to their work, put on their snow-shoes and started for Big Ben’s camp.
“He’ll be mad as a bear with a sore head,” Bob declared, as they trudged along over the snow which was now so well packed that the broad shoes hardly made any impression. “Be mighty careful what you say,” he cautioned. “You know what he is when his dander is up, and it’ll be up a plenty when he learns that we’ve got that deed and all the timber he has cut on the tract will have to be turned over to Father.”
Soon they could hear the sound of axes ringing through the stillness of the forest, interspersed with the shouts and laughter of the men as they sang and joked at their work.
“They seem to be in mighty good spirits all right,” Jack declared, as they came in sight of the cutting.
For a moment they stood watching the scene to see if they could locate Big Ben.
“There he is over there by that big tree to the left,” Jack whispered.
“All right, come on and we’ll get it over as soon as possible. But remember what I said and let me do the talking.”
Big Ben was busy talking with one of his men as the boys approached, and at first failed to notice them. They waited until he looked up and saw them.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Donahue,” Bob greeted him pleasantly.
For an instant a look of anger flashed into the big man’s face, but he quickly controlled himself and forcing a smile said:
“Hello boys. Been takin’ a walk?”
“Why, yes. I guess you’d call it that,” Bob returned smiling. “We thought we’d come down and see how the new cutting was going.”
“Well, it’s goin’ fine, as you can see. Don’t think I ever saw better timber. Lots of those trees’ll scale close to a thousand feet.”
“I think you’re right there,” Bob replied slowly, letting his eyes glance at the fallen monarchs. “They’ll help us out a lot on our contract,” he added easily.
“On your contract!” the big man exploded, the look of anger returning to his face.
“Why, yes,” Bob said quietly. “Why not? They belong to Father, you know.”
“I know nothin’ of the kind,” Big Ben shouted. “Them trees belong ter me and I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said. “But as I told you once before, that is a matter for the courts to decide. But what we really came down for was to tell you that Father’s deed to this tract has been found.”
“What!” the big man shouted, so loudly that several of the workmen nearby glanced up. “I don’t believe a word of it,” he declared in a slightly lower tone.
“And we don’t ask you to,” Bob said calmly. “Having told you the facts, we consider that we have done all that could be expected of us. It is immaterial to us whether or not you believe it and whether or not you keep on with the cutting. Of course the more you get down the less Father’ll have to cut, and if he were not an honest man as well as a generous one, he’d have let you go on cutting for the rest of the winter before letting you know about the deed.”
Bob had hoped that the explanation would serve to mollify the man but it seemed to have exactly the opposite effect. Big Ben’s face grew darker and darker as he listened to the boy, and he clinched and unclinched his hands in a nervous effort to control himself.
“If you’ve got the deed, let’s see it,” he demanded angrily, as soon as Bob had finished.
“We haven’t got it with us,” Bob replied.
“No, nor you haven’t got it anywhere else neither,” the big man sneered. “It’s all a cooked up lie to try to make me stop chopping, but it hain’t a goin’ to work; not no cock and bull yarn like that.”
“Do just as you think best, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said still pleasantly. “If you really think we are lying you would, of course, be very foolish to let it interfere with your work.”
“Where’d you find the deed?” Ben asked suddenly.
“That’s something that I can’t tell you just at present,” Bob replied.
“Of course you can’t,” the other sneered. “And there’s a mighty good reason why you can’t too.”
“As you please,” Bob said. “And now, having completed our errand, we’ll go back. Come on Jack.”
Big Ben turned away muttering something about two kids thinking they were smart, and, without further words, the boys started for their camp.
“Do you think he was bluffing?” Jack asked, as soon as they were out of hearing.
“Of course he was,” Bob replied. “Ben knows Father and us too, for that matter, too well to believe that we’d say that we had the deed when we didn’t have it.”
“I guess you’re right, but do you think he’ll keep on cutting?”
“I doubt it.”
“I thought you would say something about the horses,” Jack said a moment later.
“Well, I did intend to at first, but, after all, what’s the use. He’d have denied knowing anything about it, of course, and we haven’t any proof you know,” Bob said, a note of sadness in his voice.
“You were right, of course,” Jack replied. “But it seems to me that it is about up to us to get the proof.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Bob agreed. “It fairly makes my blood boil to think of those poor horses suffering. The ghost and the whiskey were not so bad, but when they start to torturing poor dumb beasts in order to get the best of us, it’s time something was done and don’t you forget it.”
On reaching the camp they went at once to the big shed about a hundred feet behind the cook house, where the horses were kept. There they found a halfbreed, whose only name so far as anyone knew was Sam, doctoring the sick horses. Sam knew and loved horses and was a very capable and reliable man when it came to tending them.
“Hello, Sam, how are the patients,” Bob called as they entered.
“They ver’ seek, but I tink dey geet well all but the two who dead,” Sam replied.
The boys could plainly see that the horses were indeed very sick and the hot tears sprang to their eyes as they looked at the suffering animals.
“Any idea what caused it?” Bob asked.
“Oui, I tink it in der oats. You come here. I show you,” Sam replied, leading the way to one end of the shed.
He caught up a peck measure and, lifting the cover of a bin, scooped it about two-thirds full of oats. The boys noticed that the bin was nearly empty. He then sat the measure on the top of a box and began to shake it violently back and forth. Then, with his hands, he shoveled the oats back in the bin. As soon as the measure was emptied he held it out to Bob.
“You see,” he cried excitedly.
Bob and Jack both looked into the measure and saw, on the bottom, a thin coating of a fine white powder.
“That stuff no should be in der oats,” Sam declared.
“I should say not,” Bob agreed, as he touched the powder with his finger and carefully touched his tongue to it. “You come with me,” he cried, leading the way toward the cook house.
The cook had a roaring fire in the stove, and taking a pinch of the powder he threw it on to the hot lid. Instantly a white vapor rose in the air.
“I thought so,” he declared, turning to Sam, who was standing close by with a puzzled expression on his face. “Now Sam, when I put another bit on the stove, I want you to get your nose into that smoke and tell me what it smells like. It won’t hurt you.”
“She smell ver’ lak garlic,” Sam declared a minute later, and, after a third trial, Jack corroborated his assertion.
“That settles it beyond the shadow of a doubt,” Bob said. “It’s arsenic.”
“You’re sure?” Jack asked.
“Of course I’m sure. What do you suppose I’ve studied chemistry for?”
“She ver’ pisen, dat arsenic,” Sam declared, shaking his head.
“Indeed it is,” Bob said. “It’s a wonder they didn’t all die.”
“Well, it seems that we’ve found out the how and now to find the who,” Jack said as they returned to the shed.
By repeating Sam’s sifting process Bob secured about two tablespoons full of the white powder, which he had declared to be arsenic. This he put in a small bottle which the cook had given him.
“I want you both to remember that you saw me get this stuff out of these oats,” he told Jack and Sam. “If this ever gets to court it will be a mighty important piece of evidence.”
The boys did not expect Tom back until late at night, and he had said that he might not return before the next day. So they cautioned Sam to say nothing about what they had discovered, thinking it best to keep the knowledge to themselves until they had asked Tom’s advice.
“But some one must keep watch here all the time,” Bob declared. “You see whoever did it may try it again, and we may get a chance to catch him, although I doubt it. I hardly think he’d dare try it a second time.”
Sam readily agreed to watch through the night, saying that he would have to be up a good part of the night anyway to give the horses medicine as he had the past two nights. He said that he had had a good long nap that morning and would not miss the sleep.
By this time it was beginning to get dark and they knew that within a few minutes the men would be coming in from the cutting. So the boys decided to go to the office and talk over this latest development while waiting for the supper horn.
“It ought not to be a very difficult matter to trace that arsenic,” Bob declared as he lit the kindling in the office stove. “You see white arsenic is not very common around here, and if it was bought in Skowhegan or any other small town, whoever sold it would be pretty sure to remember it. Of course if the fellow sent to Boston or to some other big city for it, it would complicate matters. But I’m counting on the idea that he did not think that it would be found out.”
“This is going to be real detective work, isn’t it?” Jack said as he filled the stove with wood.
“It’s a job that’s apt to take a long time,” Bob declared soberly. “You see it means canvassing all the drug stores within a big radius of here; that is, unless we hit on the right one early in the game.”
Just then the horn called them to supper, but as soon as the meal was over they returned to the office where they sat and discussed plans until Tom returned shortly after ten o’clock.
“What luck?” Jack asked, as the foreman pushed open the door.
“Sure and it’s jest as I expected. Nary a horse fer love nor money. But I got yer father on the ’phone and he’s a goin’ ter see what he kin do,” and Tom threw himself into a chair in front of the stove. “And what ye byes bin doin’?” he asked.
They told him, first of their visit to Big Ben, and the Irishman chuckled with delight as he learned of the man’s discomfiture.
“And we’ve found out what poisoned the horses,” Jack said.
“Who did it?” Tom shouted, jumping to his feet.
“Don’t get excited,” Jack cautioned, as he pushed him back into the chair. “I said ‘what’ not ‘who,’” and he proceeded to tell him how Bob had found and proved that it was arsenic.
“We’ve got to give Sam a lot of credit for it,” Bob interrupted. “It was really he who discovered the stuff.”
“Sam’s a mighty fine bye even if he’s a breed,” Tom declared. “And it’s meself thot’s bettin’ thot the rascle won’t git anither chance while he’s thar.”
“But what do you think we’d better do, Tom?” Bob asked.
“Sure and thot’s hard ter say,” Tom answered reflectively. “If we could find out who sold the stuff and who bought it, we’d sure have a bunch o’ cir—cir—, what the blazes is thot kind o’ ividence when yer don’t know nothin’ but think yer know it all?”
“I guess you mean circumstantial evidence,” Bob laughed.
“Sure and thot’s the woid,” and both Tom and Jack joined in the laughter at the former’s expense.
“If we could find the bottle or box, or whatever the stuff was in, it would probably help a lot,” Bob suggested. “But I don’t suppose there’s much hope of that,” he added mournfully.
“No, the mane skunk probably dumped the whole of it in and took the bottle away wid him,” Tom agreed.
“Did Father say when he would be up?” Jack asked.
“Not fer sartin sure, but as soon as he could git away, in a day or two he said,” Tom replied.
“Well, don’t you think it would be a good plan to wait till he comes and see what he thinks about it?”
“I think you’re right. A day or two probably won’t make much difference one way or the other, and if we do the wrong thing we might make a bad matter worse,” Bob replied, and Tom nodded his head in agreement.
It was pitch dark in the bunk house when Bob awoke. Unless disturbed it was an unusual thing for him to wake up before time to get up, so, expecting every minute to hear the rising horn, he lay for a few minutes in a half doze. Finally, as the call did not come, he glanced at his wrist watch, and with a start of surprise saw that it was only two o’clock. With a sigh of relief, for he was still sleepy, he turned over and closed his eyes, expecting to be asleep in another minute. But to his surprise, he continued to keep awake. He wondered how the sick horses were and if his father would be able to find others to take their places until they were able to work again. Then he fell to wondering what Big Ben would try next in his efforts to delay their work.
A half hour passed and still he could not sleep. Finally, when the luminous dial told him that he had been awake a full hour, he resolved to get up and join Sam in the horse shed.
“There’s no use lying here awake,” he thought, as he slid from his bunk to the floor, and very quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, began pulling on his clothes. This done, he groped his way to the door, and opening it carefully stepped out into the night. It was very cold, “thirty below at least,” he thought, as he pulled the door shut. The night was clear, and stars, which thickly studded the heavens, gave a faint cold light which enabled him to see dimly for some distance. For a moment he stood drinking in the beauty of the night and filling his lungs with the spruce scented air. Then he turned toward the shed, but at that moment he happened to glance at the office. With a sudden start of amazement, he noticed that the door was part way open.
“That’s mighty strange,” he thought. “But perhaps Tom couldn’t sleep either and has gone out to see how the horses are. At any rate I’ll know in a minute.”
He found Sam half asleep in a chair in front of the little stove at one end of the long shed. He sprang up as the boy pushed open the door.
“Oh, it be you, oui,” he said, relieved as the light of a lantern which hung on the wall back of him disclosed his visitor.
“Yes, it’s I all right,” Bob replied. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come out and see how the patients are getting along.”
“Them get long ver’ weel. No so much seek now,” Sam assured him.
“Have you seen Tom?” Bob asked anxiously.
“Nicht, not after he come back bout ten,” Sam replied. “What mak’ you tink I see heem?”
“Why, the door of the office was open and I thought probably he was out here with you,” and a worried look sprang to Bob’s face which Sam was quick to notice.
“Dat ver’ queer, she be open dis cold night. We go see bout eet,” and Sam quickly slipped into his heavy mackinaw and grabbed his cap from a nail in the wall.
They were about half way across the clearing when two men stepped out of the office door. In the dim light they could only see their forms.
“Something’s wrong,” Bob gasped, as he caught Sam by the arm.
Sam did not stop to reply, but snatching his arm away, started for the office on the run. At that moment the men saw them, and darting around the corner they made for the river at the top of their speed.
On reaching the office, Sam stopped and waited for Bob, who was a few feet behind him.
“We go geet ’em, oui?” he asked.
“No. Let them go,” Bob replied, shaking his head. “I doubt if we could catch them and it wouldn’t be safe. They’re probably armed.”
Sam gave a grunt of disappointment, but evidently realizing that what Bob had said was true, he made no further comment but followed him into the office.
“Hello Tom,” Bob shouted, as soon as they were inside.
At first there was no reply, but as they listened a low muffled grunt came from the little bed room. By this time Sam had the light lit and they hurried into the other room. A low cry of anger burst from Bob’s lips as he saw the foreman lying tied hand and foot, on the bed, and gagged with a big red handkerchief. Quickly getting out his knife, he soon freed him and Tom sat up with a sheepish look on his face.
“Are you hurt, Tom?” Bob asked anxiously.
“Nary a hurt but to me falings,” Tom grinned, as he slowly got to his feet. “But did yer see ’em?”
“Yes, we saw them all right, but they had the start of us and I didn’t think it safe to try to catch them.”
“Sure and it’s a good thing yer didn’t. They are as strong as an ox,” Tom declared, rubbing his ankles to restore the circulation.
“Hurry up and tell us what happened,” Bob urged.
“Sure and I’ll do that same. I was slaping as swately as a babe, when all of a sudden I felt the kivers yanked off me and before I could get me bearings the villains had me hands tied fast and me fate too.”
“Well, I’m mighty glad they didn’t hurt you, but you’d better get back into bed or you’ll get your death. It’s colder than Greenland in here and then some,” Bob declared.
“Sure and I’ll be after gitting me clothes on. No more slape fer me this night,” and he began quickly to pull on his trowsers.
While he was dressing, Bob and Sam stepped out into the office. As he expected, Bob saw at once that the door of the little safe was wide open. The safe had a combination lock, but as it seldom held anything of value it was usually left unlocked. That it had been thoroughly searched was evident, as a number of papers were scattered over the floor in front of it.
“Was there any money in the safe?” Bob called to Tom.
“Nary a dollar,” the foreman replied, as he joined them.
“Then I guess they didn’t get anything of value. Of course they were after that deed. Isn’t it lucky that we sent it down to Greenville by Jacques?”
“I tink dat ver’ bon idea,” Sam declared, and Tom heartily agreed with him.
“Do you know who they were?” Bob asked.
“Nary a bit. Sure and they had handkerchiefs over their faces and not a woid did they spake thot I could hear,” Tom explained as he started to build a fire in the stove.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t have recognized them,” Bob sighed, as he held out his hands to the stove which was already radiating heat through the room. “We’ve got nothing but suspicion to go on again.”
Sam, saying that he had better get back and see to the horses, soon left the office and Bob, after picking up the papers and putting them back in the safe, got out the checker board and soon they were deeply interested in the game. So intent were they that it seemed but a few minutes before the rising horn told them that in ten minutes breakfast would be on the table.
“Sure and we’ll have ter finish this game, breakfast or no breakfast,” Tom declared as he jumped one of Bob’s kings. “It’s meself as thinks thot I got yer in a hole this time,” and a few minutes later Bob had to acknowledge that he was right and with a grin the foreman made a mark on his side of a bit of paper on which he kept a record of all the games.
“Yee’re only two ahead now,” he declared, as he put the paper carefully away in the drawer of the table.
After breakfast was over Bob told Jack what had happened, but cautioned him to keep the information to himself, for the present at least.
“The plot thickens,” Jack whispered dramatically, as Bob finished.
“Well, if it gets much thicker I’m afraid we’ll be all clogged up,” Bob smiled, but, as Jack declared, it was a serious sort of a smile.
As they had decided to take no steps until they had talked with their father, they joined the men at the cutting and were soon busy sawing down a big spruce. The logs, owing to the horses being sick, had accumulated during the past two days, and all about them were piles which were steadily growing larger. The one team which was available was doing its best to keep the big logs moving, but their efforts seemed puny when compared with what was needed.
The boys had been working but a few minutes when Tom joined them.
“Sure and we’ll soon be all clogged up here,” he declared as he surveyed the ever growing piles. “I’ve a half a mind to begin cuttin’ on the big tract. Yer know it runs down close ter the lake and we could cut thar fer two or three days wid no hauling necessary at all. It would give Jim time ter catch up wid his job here a bit. What do yez think about it?”
“I’m afraid it would mean a fight with Big Ben,” Bob said slowly, as he took off his cap to wipe his forehead.
“What of it?” Jack asked impulsively. “I’ll bet we could lick ’em.”
“What do you think about it yourself, Tom?” Bob asked, ignoring his brother’s remark, much to Jack’s disgust.
“Well, I dunno,” and the big Irishman scratched his head reflectively. “Mebby he’d foight and then again mebby he wouldn’t. Sure and it’s about a toss up I’m a thinkin’.”
“We might make a start at it, and if we see that he means to fight we could take back water I suppose,” Bob said.
“That’s the talk, all but that back water stuff,” Jack broke in joyously.
“I believe it’s worth tryin’,” Tom said, “but we won’t change till after dinner.”
During the noon meal Tom explained the plan to the men and warned them that, in case Big Ben and his crew should interfere, there was to be no fighting unless he should give the word.
As has been stated, the edge of the disputed track came nearly to the clearing, and they hoped that by cutting only on the upper end that they might get in two or three day’s work before Ben learned of it.
“He’ll never know a thing about it unless someone happens to go by and tells him,” Jack declared as he and Bob followed the crew to the new cutting.
Here the big spruces grew close to the edge of the lake, and as Tom had said no hauling would be necessary for several days.
“It’s no wonder Ben tried to get possession of this lot,” Bob declared as he looked up at the towering trees, their trunks reaching far up as straight as an arrow. “There’ll be hardly a bit of waste to these trees,” he added.
The men fell to with a will and by the time the first hint of the approaching night stole over the forest, Tom vowed that they had cut not less than twenty thousand feet.
That evening Bob and Tom had just completed a draw game when a heavy knock sounded on the door of the office.
“Come in,” Tom shouted.
The door immediately swung open and Big Ben Donahue entered.
“A fine avenin’ to yez,” Tom said, getting up and waving his visitor to a chair near the stove.
That Big Ben was mad and meant trouble was plain to be seen. He paid no attention to the greeting nor did he accept the chair.
“I want to know what you mean by cutting on my property,” he demanded.
“Sure and I’d like ter know who’s been a cuttin’ on yer property. I hain’t,” Tom replied in a pleasant tone.
“Aw, what’s the use of lying about it. You——”
But he got no farther for Tom stepped toward him and there was that in the Irishman’s eyes which caused the big man to stop.
“Hold on thar right what ye are. I’m Irish clean ter the bone and the man don’t live thot can call me thot and get away wid it.”
“All right,” Big Ben said hastily. “No offense intended, but you know that you’ve been cuttin’ on the tract just below here?”
“Sure and now yer’re talkin’ so’s I kin understand yer. I did start ter cuttin’ on the tract jest forninst here. What about it?” and Tom resumed his seat, leaving the other standing.
“This about it,” the big man snapped. “I own that piece of timber and I warn ye to keep off it.”
“As I told you yesterday, Mr. Donahue,” Bob broke in, “we’ve got a paper which says that the tract belongs to Father.”
“And as I told ye then, I tell ye now, that I don’t believe a word of it. Of course,” he hastened to add, as he noticed the red blood mounting to Tom’s face, “I don’t doubt but that you’ve got a paper which you think proves it, but just the same the property is mine.”
“Thot’s better,” Bob heard the Irishman mutter as he twisted uneasily in his chair.
“If you can prove that in court, of course all the timber which we cut on the tract will belong to you, so you will not lose anything no matter how much we get down,” Bob explained.
“That’s not the point,” Ben broke in angrily. “I tell ye the land’s mine and I forbid ye to cut another tree on it.”
“And if we do?” Bob asked in even tones.
“I’ll drive ye off,” and the big man evidently meant what he said.
“Thanks,” Bob said dryly. “I just wanted to be sure where we stand.”
“Well, I guess ye know now,” the other snapped.
For a moment no one spoke; then, as if he had come to a definite conclusion, Bob said:
“Mr. Donahue, we do not wish to have trouble with you if it can be avoided, but you have already gone too far. Now,” as the man was about to interrupt, “let me finish and then we’ll listen to what you have to say. Last summer Father beat you in a fair bid for the contract with the Great Northern Star Company, and you have been doing your best to try to delay our work. First you tried to scare our men with a ghost, then you got some of them drunk, and finally you, or someone in your employ, put arsenic in our oats and killed two of our horses.” Bob was sorry the minute he mentioned the arsenic, but it was too late now and he went on. “And only last night two men burglarized the safe here, but they didn’t get what they were after.”
“It’s all a——” the big man began, his face red with anger, but he stopped short as Tom rose from his chair. “I had nothing to do with all that,” he substituted.
“All right, we’ll let that pass for the present, as we are not in a position to prove it, that is just now,” Bob added, with strong emphasis on the last two words.
Big Ben Donahue was getting all the worst of the argument, and he had sense enough to know it, but it was not in his nature to give up so long as he had a foot on which to stand.
“It’s no use to multiply words about it,” he declared, buttoning up his mackinaw. “But I warn ye once more not to cut another stick on that property, and if ye do I’ll make ye wish that ye hadn’t,” and with a savage scowl he was gone.
“Pleasant company, isn’t he,” Bob remarked with a smile, as he began to arrange the men on the checker board.
“He was bluffing and he knew it,” Jack declared, picking up the book which he had been reading when Big Ben came in.
“Mebby,” Bob agreed. “But the big question is, does his bluff go?”
“Not any,” Jack replied quickly, but Tom shook his head slowly.
“Sure and it’s meself as knows the kind of a gang he’s got. If he brings ’em up here somebody’ll git a broken head or two, and it’s meself as doubts if the game’s worth it.”
“I’ll tell you how we can fix it,” Jack declared suddenly, throwing his book on the table.
“All right. Spring it,” Bob said.
“Well, why not do this? In the morning the men can go to work right where they left off. You and I’ll go down about a mile toward Ben’s camp and watch. If we see them coming we can give a signal and long before they can get here the men can all be at work on the other side of the clearing.”
“Sure and it’s a foin head ye got,” and the foreman cast an admiring glance at the boy.
“I believe he’s struck it,” Bob agreed, giving his brother a hearty slap on the back. “And if you agree, Tom, we’ll try it.”
“Sure and it’s jest the ticket,” Tom said as he took the checker board from the table. “It’s your foist move.”
The game was hardly started, however, when the door was pushed open without warning and Jacques Lamont stepped in to the room.
“Hello, Jacques,” shouted both the boys, springing to their feet, Bob forgetting that he had one side of the checker board on his knees.
“Hey, thar, will yez look ter what yer after doing,” Tom called, as the checker men slid to the floor.
“Sorry, Tom,” Bob apologized. “I guess we’ll have to begin that game all over again.”
“And jest when I had one illegant start on yer,” Tom grumbled as he too got to his feet and gave the Frenchman a hearty welcome.
After the exchange of greetings, Jacques told them that he was going back to Canada to finish out the season trapping, and hoped to get together another good load before spring. But, on being urged by the boys and Tom, he agreed to spend a couple of days with them.
“I tink I mak beeg lot money thees winter,” he said, as he pulled off his heavy mackinaw.
Tom and Bob had to start their game over again, and much to the former’s disgust Bob skunked him.
“Sure and I’ll niver git another start like thot one I had when you knocked all the men on the floor,” he declared as he started to place the men for a new game.
As soon as the work was well under way the next morning, the boys fastened on their snow-shoes and started off toward the other camp. Fortunately the weather had turned warm, and in the bright sun the snow began to melt. As soon as they had covered about a mile, they stopped and looked around for a good hiding place.
“We must get somewhere where we can see out on the lake as well as in the woods,” Bob declared. “They’re about as apt to come one way as the other.”
Finally Jack spied a big pine with particularly thick branches, and removing his snow-shoes he was soon two-thirds of the way to the top.
“Can you see out on the lake?” Bob called from beneath the tree.
“Sure can,” Jack called back.
“All right then, come on down and I’ll hand the shoes to you and then I’ll be with you. I can’t see a thing of you, so I guess it’ll be a good thing all right.”
“I’m mighty glad it isn’t cold,” Jack declared, as they settled themselves as comfortably as possible in the branches of the tree. “We may have to wait here a good while, and if it was thirty or forty below it wouldn’t be very pleasant, let me tell you.”