“My country!” gasped Tweedy, suddenly clenching a fat fist, and shaking
it fiercely. “Sixty thousand dollars gone to pot! How in thunder can you
stand there, Bobby, and not say a word? Don’t you realize that near half
our season’s work is lost? That timber can’t be got out this year any
way you think of, an’ by next spring the logs’ll be so full o’ worms
they won’t be worth touching hardly. It’s Crane and his gang that’s put
one over on us! The trust’s been after us ever since you started that
reform racket, and now they’ve got us good!”
The stout man fairly choked in the excess of his fury, thrusting a
purpling face close to Bainbridge’s.
“It’s sixty thousand dollars as good as thrown into the gutter,” he
sputtered. “For the love of Heaven, Bobby, can’t you wake up and say
something?”
The young man’s gaze turned slowly from where it had been resting
thoughtfully on that last wrecked boom with the shadowy masses of logs
sprawling behind it, and he moved his shoulders impatiently.
“What’s the use in saying anything until there’s something to say?” he
inquired, with some tartness. “I’m not quite a fool, John. I know
Crane’s turned a rotten trick, which is going to cripple us badly. I’m
trying to think of a way out.”
“Humph!” granted Tweedy despondently. “There ain’t any that I can see. I
tell you, son, every penny of that sixty is gone beyond the reach of
anybody.”
“Not quite,” Bob said curtly, turning to Griggs. “What’s it cost a
thousand to bark white pine, Harvey? About a dollar, isn’t it?”
“Round that,” nodded the foreman.
“That cuts out any danger from borers, doesn’t it?” Bainbridge continued
Bob’s eyes narrowed, and his well-shaped mouth grew firmer. He glanced
again at Tweedy, and raised his eyebrows.
“That’s all there is left for us to do--eh, John?” he said quickly, and
even the not particularly sensitive Tweedy was aware of a ringing
undercurrent in his voice. “We’ll bark ’em at once, and I’ll send down
to Bangor for men and material to repair the dam. Harvey will look after
all that, and we’ll save three-quarters, at least, of the value of the
drive, in spite of Crane’s dirty work.”
“That may be true enough,” retorted the older man dispiritedly, “but do
you realize what it’s going to mean to lose the use of that capital for
a whole year?”
He stepped closer to his young partner, and lowered his voice to a
whisper:
“You know the condition we’re in financially, Bob. This campaign of
yours against graft has cost us money--bunches of it. Our resources have
never been so low. This loss is going to cripple us in a way which even
the officials of the trust, with all their means of finding out things,
can’t guess. It may be impossible even to get credit, and I don’t see
how on earth we’re going to get through the year without something----”
“We’ve got to!” Bob’s voice was hard and determined. “Can’t you see
that’s just what Crane’s after? He’s done this to draw our sting and
leave us helpless. We’ll have to weather the storm somehow, John. I’ll
be hanged if I’ll let that crowd of crooks have their way. We’ve got the
biggest stock of manufactured lumber in years--that’s one good thing.
The other is our Megantic drive. Once that’s down at the mills we ought
to be in fair shape, and able to tell our esteemed former partner and
his crowd to go to--Halifax.”
But Tweedy refused to brace up and look upon the bright side. Instead of
being cheered and encouraged by Bob’s optimistic manner and fighting
spirit, his frown deepened, and his lips drooped still farther at the
corners.
“Once it’s at the mills--yes,” he retorted significantly. “What
guarantee have we got that it’ll ever get there? You don’t suppose for a
minute they’re going to let that alone, do you, after what they’ve done
here?”
Bainbridge flung back his head, his dark eyes glittering.
“No, but they’re welcome to try their darndest!” he exclaimed. “They
can’t turn any such trick as this, and I mean to start for the Megantic
camp as soon as day breaks. I’ll stick with that drive till the last log
is safe in our mill booms, and if the gang tries any more dirty work
there’ll be something doing, believe me! You’d better beat it down to
Bangor and arrange about credit. You can do it, somehow. It’s going to
be a fight to the finish, John, and I reckon they’ll find out before
it’s over that we’re not quite the easy marks they seem to think.”
Tweedy made no reply save a pessimistic hunch of his pudgy shoulders. It
seemed to him that Bainbridge was decidedly underestimating the extent
of the damage done them by the treachery of those cowardly miscreants
who, though actually unknown, could not possibly be other than tools of
the hostile and unscrupulous Lumber Trust.
For practically the entire winter the firm had been pouring out money in
wages, supplies, and equipment, expecting to clean up large and
immediate profits from as fine a lot of timber as either of the
lumbermen had ever seen. To have the entire drive suddenly stranded in
this manner was like losing every cent which had been paid out, for
Tweedy was not at all sure that anything could be saved from the wreck.
He had no great faith in the efficacy of barking. It seemed like
throwing good money after bad, and he said as much in very decided terms
when they were back in the office shanty making hurried preparations for
instant departure.
He was overruled, however, by both Bainbridge and Griggs, who were quite
certain the logs could be saved at an expenditure of about a fifth of
their value. And since Bob was in charge of the woods end of the
business, the older man was forced to give in.
There followed, during a hasty breakfast, a brief consultation regarding
the steps Tweedy should take toward getting additional credit, at the
same time doing his best, of course, to sell at once some of their big
stock of manufactured lumber. Griggs was given instructions as to the
method of working and the number of men to keep. Then came a hurried
farewell between the two partners.
The sun had scarcely risen above the fringe of trees around the camp
before Tweedy was being driven rapidly toward the nearest railroad
station, while Bob, accompanied only by Joe Moose, an Indian guide, was
sitting in the stern of a canoe, paddling steadily up Chebargo Stream.