CHRISTMAS, AND AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL
Owen heard the shriek, and although he did not understand the exact
words uttered, he realized that it was meant for a warning.
He was about fifty feet up the side of the hill, ax in hand, preparing
to cut down a bunch of saplings which, so far, had not been touched.
The saplings had been knocked over by the other logs sent down, but the
young lumberman thought it would be better if they were out of the way
altogether.
Standing on something of a knob he looked up and saw the log coming
down upon him, rolling and sliding with ever-increasing rapidity. That
it was coming directly for him there could be no question, and for the
moment his heart seemed to stop beating and a great cold chill crept up
and down his backbone, while he had a mental vision of being crushed
into a shapeless mass by that ponderous weight.
"Jump!" screamed Dale. "Jump, for the love of Heaven, Owen!"
[Illustration: "Jump! Don't wait! Jump!" yelled Owen.]
And then Owen jumped, far from the knob to the portion of the slide
below him. It was a flying leap of over a rod, and when he landed he
struck partly on his feet and partly on his left hand. Then from this
crouched-up position he took another leap, very much as might a huge
frog, and landing this time on his side, rolled over and over to the
bottom of the slide.
The log was following swiftly and the swish of the flying snow and ice
reached his ears plainly. It had scraped a bit at the knob, placing a
fraction of a second of time in his favor. But now it came on, bound
for the bank of the pond, straight for the young lumberman, as before!
It is said that in moments of extreme peril persons will sometimes do
by instinct that which they might not have done at all had they stopped
to reason the matter out. So it was with Owen in the present case.
A short while before, a boy belonging to one of the cooks of the camp
had been fishing through a hole in the ice at the edge of the pond.
The boy had made for himself a hole two feet in diameter, possibly
reasoning that the larger the hole the bigger the fish he might catch.
The hole was still there, although covered with a thin skim of ice.
As Owen reached the bottom of the slide, the force of gravitation
carried him out on the pond, close to the hole. Directly behind him
was the heavy log. To escape being struck a blow he knew would be a
tremendous one, he dove directly into the hole and out of sight. Like
a flash the log slid over the opening, went on across the pond, and
brought up against the shore opposite with a crash to be heard a long
distance beyond.
"Owen is killed!" cried Dale. "The log has smashed him flat!" And for
the moment he felt so weak he could scarcely stand.
"I--I don't see him," faltered Andrews nervously. He felt that if the
young lumberman had really been taken off thus suddenly he would be in
a measure responsible.
"We should have made certain that the slide was clear before we let the
log down," groaned Dale. "Oh, this is dreadful!"
"What's the yelling about?" asked another lumberman, rushing up, and
soon a dozen or more were assembled at the top of the slide.
They could see but little in the gathering darkness, and burning with
anxiety to know the exact truth of the catastrophe, Dale began to let
himself down the hillside by means of a pair of sharp-pointed sticks.
Andrews and two others followed.
"There he is, on the ice!" cried Andrews, just before the bottom was
reached.
"Sure enough!" burst out Dale. "Why, if he isn't crawling from a hole
in the ice!"
"The log must have knocked him into that hole," said one of the others.
"But he doesn't seem to be much hurt."
A little lighter in heart, now that he knew his chum was alive, Dale
continued on his way to the pond, and reached the edge just as Owen
came ashore. The latter limped a little and was dripping from head to
feet with icy water.
"Owen!" For the moment Dale could say no more. "Did--did----"
"I escaped by the sk--skin of mu--mu--my teeth," was the chattered-out
answer. "Help me get to wha--wha--where it's wa--wa--warm!"
"That I will!" answered Dale, and took one of Owen's arms while Andrews
took the other. Between them they ran the young lumberman into the camp
and up to the cabin, where they stood him close to the stove while they
took off his water-filled boots and his soaked garments.
"I don't know how I got into the hole, exactly," said Owen, when the
chill had passed. "I saw the hole, and the log behind me, and the next
minute I was in over my head. It was a close shave, and phew! but
wasn't that water icy!"
"Why didn't you jump over the log?" asked one of the men.
"It's a good t'ing he didn't dun try dat," put in Jeff, the cook. "Yeah
befo' las' poor Ike Madden dun try jumpin' ober a log wot was a-rollin'
down hill an' he dun got bof laigs broke an' his nose in de bargain!"
"I didn't stop to think of jumping," answered Owen. "All I knew was to
get out of the way, and that at once."
"After this we'd better have a signal when we start to roll logs,"
said Dale, and Joel Winthrop agreed that this would be a good thing.
Fortunately Owen did not suffer in the least from his unexpected bath.
The end of the year was now approaching and soon came Christmas, a
cold, clear day, with the thermometer down close to zero.
"Merry Christmas!" shouted Dale to Owen, on rising, and "Merry
Christmas!" rang out all over the camp.
Of course there was no work that day, and the men did what they could
to amuse themselves, while Jeff was given orders to serve the best
dinner the larder of the camp could afford. Several of the men had gone
hunting the day before and brought in some partridges and other game,
including two wild turkeys, and fish from the pond and river were
not wanting. For dessert the men had a big plum-pudding, and pie was
served, as on many other festal occasions, morning, noon, and night.
"It's a good variation from the everlasting beans," observed Owen. "I
must say, since I've lived in and around the cities, I've got rather
tired of beans four or five times a week."
"Gilroy tells me we ought not to complain," said Dale. "He says that
in old times the loggers got pork and beans and salt fish and precious
little else. We are better off than that."
Early on Christmas morning a handful of the lumbermen held a church
service, one reading a chapter from the Bible, another reciting the
ten commandments, and a third offering a short prayer. These men asked
Owen and Dale to sing and play for them, and the pair complied and
rendered several hymns from a tattered book one of the men owned. Then
all joined in singing one or two other familiar hymns and wound up the
meeting by singing "America."
"That's something like," said Dale, after the meeting was over. "It
makes a fellow feel less heathenish to have some sort of a service now
and then."
"Well, I always go to church when I get a chance," answered Owen.
"But a lumberman doesn't get the chance very often, or a mill hand
either--unless the mill is close to some settlement."
The new year found the young lumbermen again in the woods, this time
a good mile from the bank of the river. Here a shack had been built,
and to this place Jeff sent meals for all hands three times a day, for
the men could not spend the necessary time going back and forth to the
cabin.
The shack was a poor dwelling-place, and both Dale and Owen were glad
when, early in February, they were ordered back to the main camp. In
the meantime they heard that Mr. Paxton had taken on six new hands, for
the cutting was not progressing as rapidly as the owner of the claim
had anticipated.
"Well, I never!" cried Dale, on catching sight of several of the new
workmen. "There is Baptiste Ducrot!"
"So it is!" declared Owen. "I thought old Winthrop said he wouldn't
engage the man."
"Winthrop is away, Owen. He went last week to visit a sick relative in
Lilybay."
"Then Mr. Paxton must have hired him himself."
"It's more than likely."
"What do you propose to do?"
"Make Ducrot toe the mark if I can. He took that horse, and----"
"Hold on, Dale. If you want to make him pay for the horse you had
better go slow about it. Probably he hasn't any money now. Supposing
you let him earn some before you let down on him."
Dale stared at his chum for a moment.
"I never thought of that before!" he cried. "Do you suppose Mr. Paxton
will keep his money for him until the end of the season?"
"I shouldn't wonder. You can ask and make sure."
"I will, and I'll tell him just how matters stand," answered Dale.
Without letting Baptiste Ducrot see him he sought out the owner of
the camp and told his story. Mr. Paxton listened to him patiently,
whittling a stick the while with his big jack-knife.
"That's a pretty straight tale, Bradford," he said, when the youth
had finished. "But can you prove positively that this Ducrot took the
horse?"
"No, I can't say that I can," answered Dale bluntly. "But I'm
reasonably certain that he did."
"If you have him hauled up you'll have to prove your charge. If you
can't he may be able to make trouble for you for having him arrested."
"Well, what do you advise me to do, Mr. Paxton? I know I can depend on
what you say."
This frankness pleased the owner of the camp, and he nodded slowly.
"My advice is that you say nothing at present. Go on working as usual
and keep your eyes and ears open. Sooner or later every criminal
exposes himself, if not in one way, then in another. I don't look on
Ducrot as a smart customer, and if he is really guilty you'll corner
him some day when he least expects it."
"Are you keeping his money for him?"
"All but two dollars a week--and I'm paying him seven and board, for
men are scarce just now, and he can work well when he is put to it and
kept from drink. Yes, you watch him, and I won't give him his money
until I notify you first."
And so it was arranged that Dale should watch Baptiste Ducrot and
do what he could to expose the fellow and bring him to book for his
misdeeds.