A TALK ON THE TRAIN
The ride over the hills and through the valleys of New England, on the
express train, was thoroughly enjoyed by Dale and Owen, and at Albany
they stopped long enough to catch a flying glimpse of the State capital
of New York. Then they boarded another train, and went whirling through
the beautiful Mohawk Valley, westward, until, just eighteen hours after
leaving the Hub, they rolled into the big depot at Buffalo, and found
themselves in this most eastern city of the Great Lakes.
"So much of the journey done," said Dale, as they walked from the
depot, valises in hand.
"We must have a look around here before we go any further," replied
Owen. "We may never get to this city again."
It was not long before they found themselves on the main street of the
city. Almost the first thing they noticed was a trolley car marked
Niagara Falls.
"We must visit the Falls!" cried Dale. "We can't afford to miss that,
anyhow!" And finding that the fare was a moderate one, they hopped on
the car, and went spinning northward to this great Mecca of American
tourists. They spent two hours at the Falls, visiting Goat Island and
the Sisters, and also the Canadian shore, and then returned to Buffalo
more than satisfied with the little side trip thus experienced.
By consulting a local paper, they found that they could get a lake boat
for Detroit that night, and also one in the morning.
"Let us go in the morning, when we can see something," said Owen, and
so it was agreed.
With a stop at Cleveland, the journey from Buffalo to Detroit is
about three hundred miles. The steamer was a commodious one, and the
furnishings of the cabin and the dining room caused both of the young
lumbermen to stare.
"I must say I didn't expect to find anything quite as fine as this,"
declared Owen. "Why, it's quite as good as anything we have East."
The stop at Cleveland was also full of interest, and the young
lumbermen took a brief glance at the business portion of the town and
the shipping. Lumber boats were everywhere in evidence, and these
interested them as much as anything else.
"The lumber trade of the Lakes must be enormous," said Dale. "Just see
those schooners and other craft--how they are piled up! I never saw
anything like it, even at Bangor."
So far the weather had proved fine, but as night came on a cold rain
set in, which forced them to stay in the cabin, so they saw but little
as the steamer turned into the Detroit River, and made the run up to
the city of that name.
"Here we are at last!" exclaimed Owen, as they went ashore in a stream
of people. "I guess the best thing we can do is to get out of the wet."
"Cab! Hack! Have a carriage, sir?" came from a dozen cabmen, as they
pushed forward. "Carry your baggage, mister?" And Owen felt a boy of
fifteen catch hold of his valise.
"No, I'll carry that myself," said Owen. "And I don't want a carriage,"
he went on, to the cabmen.
They were soon out of the jam, and on the way to a hotel that John
Hoover had mentioned in his last letter. This was not far away, and
soon they had secured a room and were retiring, worn out from the trip,
but still happy and with hopes of the highest.
"I feel stiffer than if I'd been rollings logs all day," said Dale, as
he leaped up the next morning. "How is it with you, Owen?"
"My head is dizzy from looking at so much," was the answer. "Feels
like it did when I went to that moving-picture show that once came to
Spogtown. The pictures quivered so much that I got to blinking with
'em, and the boys said I didn't stop the blinking for two days."
"Do you suppose your uncle is in town?"
"I'm sure I don't know. We can get breakfast, spruce up a bit, and then
hunt up the offices of the lumber company he spoke about."
The rain of the night before had cleared away, leaving the sky bright
and beautiful. Having breakfasted, they walked down the broad street
until they came to a cross street, which was the one they wanted. Two
squares away stood the building in which the lumber company's offices
were located, on the third floor. They went up in the elevator, and
entering the first of the rooms asked for Mr. John Hoover.
"Not here, and won't be to-day," was the answer of a clerk.
"Did he leave any word for me?" went on Owen. "I am his nephew, Owen
Webb, from Bangor, Me."
"Oh!" The manner of the clerk changed. "Step in, Mr. Webb. Yes, sir, he
left a note for you. I'll get it."
"He must think we're of some importance, by the way he changed his face
when I mentioned my name," whispered Owen. "I guess Uncle Jack cuts
something of a figure here."
The note was delivered, and was found to contain directions for coming
up to one of the lumber camps at once. This camp was located twenty
miles beyond the village of Munvale, and to get to it they had to take
a train northward to the Saginaw River.
"That's quite a little trip in itself," said Dale. "But it will be the
last, I suppose, for some time to come."
They had to wait until the middle of the afternoon for a train to the
right station. When it did come, it was crowded, and they had to stand
up part of the way. But later on the passengers thinned out, and they
got a seat together near the end of the car.
At one station several men who looked as if they were lumbermen got
aboard, and by their conversation Dale and Owen soon learned that they
were bound for a camp not far from that run by John Hoover.
"I'm glad I'm not going to Jack Hoover's outfit," one of the men said,
during the course of the conversation.
"You're right, Glassen," said another. "He's a pretty hard taskmaster,
and no mistake."
"I understand Henshaw left him last week," put in a third of the
crowd. "He said he wasn't going to do two days' work in one day, for
any man."
"Hoover never knows when to let up," went on the first speaker. "Three
months of it was enough for me. By the way, what became of Risley, who
used to be one of his foremen?" And then the talk drifted in another
direction.
Dale and Owen looked at each other in a suggestive manner. Then the
older of the pair leaned forward.
"Doesn't look encouraging, does it?" he whispered. "I guess you won't
thank me for bringing you to this place."
"I'm sure I don't blame you, Owen. Besides, we can go elsewhere, you
know."
By the time the young lumbermen reached the station at which they were
to stop, the train was nearly empty. It was dark, and only half a
dozen people were at the depot. Not far away was a general store and a
blacksmith shop, with a church, and about a dozen cottages, and that
was all.
"Which way next?" asked Dale.
"I'll see if my uncle is anywhere about," returned Owen.
He walked around the depot, and then over to the general store, and
seeing nobody who looked familiar, asked the station master if he had
seen Mr. John Hoover. For a minute the man looked puzzled, then he
grinned.
"You mean old Holdfast Hoover," he replied. "He's a boss lumberman."
"Yes, but his first name is John."
"Perhaps it was; but they call him Holdfast here, he's so tight with
his money. No, he isn't around, but I saw his man, Sandy, here a minute
ago, with a wagon. There he is now."
The station master pointed to a tall, thin man, who sat on the seat of
a rough lumber wagon, chewing tobacco vigorously. To the wagon were
attached a team of lean and tired-looking horses.
"Are you Mr. John Hoover's man?" asked Owen, striding up.
"That's me," was the slow answer. "Reckon you are his nevvy, aint you?"
"I am, and this is the young man who came out here with me."
"I'm a-waitin' for you. Let see, your name's Webb, aint it?"
"Yes, Owen Webb, and this is Dale Bradford."
"My name's Sandy Hopgood, although I aint no good on the hop at all."
The man grinned at his little joke. "Got your outfits with you? If you
have we'll dump 'em in the wagon and start. We've got nigh on to twenty
miles between us an' a supper table, an' if you're too long Mrs.
Hoover won't keep a blessed thing a-waitin' for you."
"In that case we'd better get something to eat before we start," put in
Dale, who was already hungry.
"Aint no hotel around here."
"Then we'll get some crackers and cheese, or something else, at the
store," said Owen. "Mr. Hopgood, come and have lunch with us."
"Well--er--I wouldn't mind, but the fact is I--er--I didn't bring no
money with me."
"That's all right--we'll stand for it."
"Will you? Thanks; then I'll go."
The man lumbered from the wagon and tied up his team. They were soon in
the general store, and here obtained a satisfactory spread of crackers,
cheese, chipped beef, and canned stuff, which the storekeeper let them
eat at a table in a back room.
"Blame me if that aint as good a supper as I've had in a long time,"
was Sandy Hopgood's comment, after he had finished the third of a pie
Dale had purchased. "It's a heap sight better nor going home for the
meal."
"Does Mrs. Hoover run the table?" asked Dale.
"Kind of--it runs itself mostly." Sandy Hopgood closed one eye
suggestively. "You won't git fat up to our camp, let me tell you that."
When the man had departed to bring around his turnout, Owen motioned to
Dale.
"I'm going to take a few eatables along," he said. "Just put the things
that are in my satchel in with your own, and then we can fill mine up
with food enough to last two or three days. I'm not going to starve."
This was agreed to, and by the time Sandy Hopgood called for them,
they had Owen's valise filled with all sorts of things to eat. The
storekeeper smiled when he saw them stowing the articles away.
"Reckon you know your man," he said suggestively.
"Not exactly, but we've heard something," answered Dale.
"Well, you'll hear more before you come away," was the storekeeper's
comment. "Shouldn't wonder but what I'll see you again by the time your
first month is up."
"Or before," put in Owen, with a short, hard laugh. Then Sandy Hopgood
drove up, and they put their trunks into the wagon and followed with
their valises.
"Now to see what we will see," remarked Dale, as lightly as he could.
But his heart was heavy, for he realized that the prospect was far from
encouraging.