AT JOHN HOOVER'S HOME
The road was dark as well as rough, and as the lumber wagon bumped
along over the stones and tree roots, neither Dale nor Owen had much
to say. Each was busy with his thoughts, wondering how they would be
received by John Hoover and his wife, and what would be the outcome of
this venture into the Michigan lumber district.
"We're 'bout half there now," said Sandy Hopgood, after a long and
steady pull over hills and through hollows. "But the wust part of the
road is to come." And so it proved. The wagon jounced along as if ready
to fall to pieces at any moment, and more than once Dale and Owen, who
had both noticed the shabby harness, imagined that straps and buckles
would fly in all directions. But, old and worn as it was, the turnout
held together, and at last they caught sight of a light ahead, and the
driver announced that they would soon be at their destination.
The Hoover camp consisted of half a dozen buildings, built on either
side of a muddy roadway leading to a creek that flowed into the
Saginaw River. Beyond the cabins were two stables and a tool shed. Down
close to the river was a sawmill, also belonging to John Hoover. All
the buildings were old and dilapidated, but the owner of the camp did
not believe in spending money to fix them up.
As the wagon came up to the cabins, the door of one of the buildings
was thrown open, and a man came out, lantern in hand.
"Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.
[Illustration: "Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.]
"Yes, Uncle Jack, I'm here!" sang out Owen, as cheerily as he could.
And leaping down, he stepped forward and grasped his relative by the
hand.
"Been a long time getting here," grumbled John Hoover, to the driver.
"I could have made the distance in an hour less."
"We had to stop a while in town," replied Sandy Hopgood, but he did not
mention the reason.
"Are you glad to see me, Uncle Jack?" demanded Owen.
"Why, I guess so, Owen. Depends on how you are going to go to work, now
you are here. I must say you look tall and strong." John Hoover held up
the lantern toward Dale. "Is this the other chap?"
"Yes, this is Dale Bradford. Dale, this is Mr. Hoover."
"Don't stand out there, John Hoover!" came in a shrill feminine voice
from the kitchen of the cabin. "Bring 'em in here right away. I've
waited as long as I'm a-going to wait with this supper." And then Mrs.
Hoover, a short, fat woman, appeared, her sleeves rolled up, and her
hands resting on her hips.
"Thank you, but we've had supper, Aunt Maria," answered Owen, in a
voice that was a trifle cold.
"Had supper? Where did you get it?"
"We stopped at the general store down by the depot. We were hungry, and
didn't want to wait until we got here."
"My! my! how extravagant--and me waiting with supper all the time.
Well, if you don't want anything, I'll put the things away, and save
'em." And without further ceremony the woman bustled about to clear the
table.
It had been arranged by John Hoover that Owen and Dale should occupy a
small corner room of the house. All the other hands, including Sandy,
lived in the other cabins, and had their meals there. But Owen was to
consider himself a member of the Hoover household, and his chum was to
do likewise.
"I didn't guess you'd want to be parted," said John Hoover. "And the
room is plenty big enough for two."
"Yes, we prefer to remain together," answered Owen.
The reception had been a chilling one, and the chill did not wear away
when the pair were seated in the plainly furnished living room. The
owner of the camp asked both a great number of questions about what
they had done in Maine, and seemed very anxious to find out if each
could really do a full man's work.
"I aint paying no shirkers in my camp," said John Hoover. "Every man
who gets a full day's pay must work for it."
"You'd better let 'em go to bed now, John," said his wife. "They've
traveled so much that if you don't they won't be worth a cent for work
to-morrow--and I suppose you're going to start 'em right off, aint you?"
"To be sure," answered the husband. "I aint wasting a whole day for
nothing."
The bedroom turned over to the young lumbermen was furnished with
nothing but a wide bunk, and a long, rough bench. On one wall hung a
swinging shelf made of a rough board three feet long. There was nothing
on the floor, and the mattress in the bunk was old and smelt musty. For
a light they were given about an inch of a tallow candle stuck on top
of a tin candlestick.
"This beats the hotels, doesn't it?" remarked Owen sarcastically.
"Dale, I hope you don't remain awake to-night thinking of your elegant
surroundings."
"Well, I suppose it might be worse--if somebody tried real hard to make
it so," responded Dale dryly.
"They'd have to try mighty hard, I can tell you that. Do you know how
long this will suit me?"
"About ten years."
"About ten hours."
"Why, you act as if you were disappointed."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed at all; I'm simply brimming over with joy;
the place is so good I don't think I can stand it. If I stay too long
I'll get lazy doing nothing, and living on the fat of the land."
After this both burst into a low, merry laugh. Each felt the
disappointment keenly, but both were resolved to make the best of it,
and to make a new move at the first opportunity.
John Hoover and his wife, retiring in an adjacent room, heard the laugh
and listened with much satisfaction.
"They must like the place," said the master of the camp. "I'm glad on
it. I was afraid they'd be stuck up, after being in Bangor, Boston, and
other big towns."
"Oh, they know a good thing when they see it," answered his wife.
"Perhaps they didn't have no mattress in them other camps, and no light
to go to bed by. By and by I'm a-goin' to save on them candles. Wade
raised a cent a pound on the cost of 'em."
"Yes, we can't afford to spend extra money on 'em, even if one of 'em
is my nephew," responded John Hoover.
The young lumbermen were worn out with their journey, and soon fell
asleep. At five o'clock the master of the camp pounded on their door
and aroused them.
"Come, get up!" he called. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.
You'll find a wash basin and towel outside of the kitchen door."
They dressed and came out, to find Mrs. Hoover hard at work in the
kitchen, preparing a morning meal of salt mackerel, bread and butter,
and coffee. They washed up outside as directed, and then sat down.
Now Dale and Owen had had many poor meals at one place and another,
but nothing which was worse than this. The fish was old and tough,
the bread stale, the butter strong, and the coffee of the rank sort,
worth twelve or fourteen cents a pound. As a dainty, there were several
slices of gingerbread, but they looked so old and dried-up that
neither of the young lumbermen cared to touch them.
"You don't seem to be hungry," remarked Mrs. Hoover, as she watched
them dallying with the food.
"Not as hungry as I might be," answered Dale.
"You want to eat up. It makes a boy good and strong, and fit for a
proper day's work."
The breakfast was soon over, and then John Hoover said he would take
them out, introduce them to some of the men, and show them what they
were to do. Unobserved, they slipped into their room, and put some
crackers in their pockets, with some chipped beef in a paper, to eat
when they got the chance, for the breakfast furnished by Mrs. Hoover
had by no means satisfied them.
Inside of an hour they were hard at work, Owen as foreman of a gang of
twelve men, including Dale. They learned that the gang had originally
consisted of twenty hands, but eight men had left, to seek employment
elsewhere.
"And I am going next Saturday," said the man who gave out this
information. "My time's up, and I don't want any more of this camp."
The men worked hard, and Owen soon learned that he was expected to not
only direct them, but do as much cutting as anybody. From time to time
John Hoover appeared, going from one gang of the camp to another, and
urging everybody to "work up there," and finding great fault if the
trees did not come down, or were not moved, as speedily as he expected.
And when one of the hands hurt his foot, he would not allow the fellow
to knock off and have the hurt attended to, but told him to wait until
the sawmill whistle blew for the noon meal.
"That's your time," he said. "This time is mine, and I want you to
work."
"That was hard-hearted," said Dale, when he and Owen were alone.
"You are right," answered Owen. "He's the meanest man I ever met, and
I'm sorry he is an uncle of mine."
By the time night came the young lumbermen were more than ready to
quit. John Hoover had proved a regular slave driver, and neither
wondered that his men were deserting him before the season was at an
end.
"About two months of this would use me up," said Dale. "I never felt so
tired from a single day's work in my life."
"It's his continual nagging that does it, Dale. If he wouldn't be at
the men all the time they might do every bit as much, and feel a good
deal better over it. As it is they are surly, and they won't do a
hand's turn more than they have to." And Owen was right.
The next day it rained, but they went out as before, John Hoover
declaring that men could cut and move timber just as well in the wet
as when the sun shone. One man, who had a heavy cold, demurred, and a
regular quarrel ensued, first concerning the work and then about wages.
At last the man packed his box and went off, declaring that he would
sue the camp owner if he did not get the wages that were coming to him.
The rainy weather made Mrs. Hoover irritable, and she scolded, not only
her husband, but also the young lumbermen, for tracking the mud into
the living room.
"I've got enough work to do without clearing up such dirt!" she snapped
to her nephew. "If you bring any more in you'll not get a mouthful to
eat."
"I guess I'll get what's coming to me, Aunt Maria," said Owen, whose
temper had reached the danger point.
"No, you shan't have a thing."
"Then I'll go down to one of the other cabins and live."
"And I'll go with Owen," put in Dale. "I'm tired of this place,
anyway."
At this both John Hoover and his wife stared at the two young lumbermen
in amazement.
"Do you mean to say you aint satisfied here?" gasped the master of the
camp.
"No, I am not, Uncle Jack," said Owen bravely. "And we might as well
come to an understanding at once. I'm going to look around for another
job, and as soon as I can find it I'm going to leave your employ."