Part 18

“Much--obliged--pardners,” he said.

They thrilled at the last word. It was the greatest compliment this big, brave man of the woods could have paid them--he had placed them on an equality of manhood with himself.

“What about the jam?” he queried, in a half-dazed manner. “Did you tell them to stop the ‘sticks’?”

“Yes,” Ben assured him, “and Crawford and a picked crew are on their way down. Here they come now.”

Down the middle of the river came the bateau filled with lumbermen. The big foreman was in the bow. Spying the trouble ahead, he bawled his orders to the stalwart oarsmen, and the boat was quickly beached beside the little canoe.

The crew at once leaped out and came running to attack the huge pile of obstructing logs. They were armed with peavey-poles, axes, and steel bars. The boys could hardly keep from cheering these heroes of the river as they rushed forward to grapple with the jam.

“What’s up? Did it get you, ‘Shorty’?” inquired the foreman, bending anxiously over the stricken river-man.

“Pretty nigh got me, Ned,” laughed “Shorty,” feebly. “Guess I’d have gone if it hadn’t been for these lads. They ran out there and got me.”

The lumbermen had gathered about their injured comrade, and as he spoke they turned to the boys. They slapped them affectionately on the back and praised them for their bravery. Then they gave three mighty cheers which roared and echoed up and down the river for a mile.

“Well, let’s sail into it!” yelled Crawford.

His crew went to work with a will, and Ed and George stood by, interested witnesses of the determined onslaught. They saw daring chances taken by reckless men, and several miraculous escapes. The foreman himself led in the perilous work. He it was who, when the pile of logs began to creak and give and totter, stood calmly below them until the last of his crew had jumped to safety. Then, as the jam crumbled and broke, he, too, leaped from under the crash and ran nimbly across the tops of plunging logs to shore.

When the obstacle had been overcome, Crawford despatched a man up the river to the telephone-box, with orders for the crew above to resume operations. It was important that no time should be lost in getting the logs through while the high water lasted. Much against his wishes, “Shorty” was ordered to camp, and a new man was left on watch at the dangerous turn of the river.

Assisted by the boys, Ben paddled the canoe upstream, following in the wake of the bateau. The men in the latter struck up a familiar river song, and the music came drifting back over the water.

“I should think they would be too tired to sing, after what they’ve just been through,” said George.

“They’ve forgotten about it long ago; it’s all part of the day’s work,” laughed Ben.

The boat soon drew away in advance of the canoe. When the occupants of the latter disembarked at the camp, the larger craft had already landed “Shorty” and disappeared up the river.

That night was a gala one in the bunk-house. The whole crew of “lumber-jacks,” having learned of the boys’ gallant rescue of Brundage, came into camp to do them honor. Men arrived from far down the river to have a “look at the youngsters” who had made good. The merrymaking was shared by all, and there was a general thanksgiving because “Shorty,” the best jam-breaker in the country, had been spared to his crew. Nor was Charley, the cook, to be outdone. When the fun had reached its height, he marched solemnly to the door of the bunk-house and, waving his arm toward the “grub-shanty,” invited them all over for a surprise party.

With loud cheers and whoops of approval, the noisy gathering sat down at the long table laden with good things which the cook and his assistants had prepared for the occasion. There were several rare treats; and when the feast was over, three rousing cheers were given for “the best cooks in the lumber country.”

Big-hearted Ned Crawford and his hospitable crew were for keeping their guests several days longer, but Ben explained that they must leave next day. Warmly seconded by the boys, he thanked the lumbermen for their hospitality and this glimpse of a new life.

Early next morning, when the canoe had been loaded and the departing guests were about to step into it, “Shorty” Brundage came forward and addressed them.

“I’m not much on speeches,” he laughed, nervously, as he grasped the hands of his rescuers; “but I want you fellows to know that I feel what you did for me. It sure was a white thing to do, and any time I can do anything for you, just call on me like a pardner. I reckon Ben can tell you what that means in this country.”

The lads thanked him, and tried to make light of their exploit. Then they took their places in the canoe, and Ben put away from shore. Charley and his little crew waved their aprons and beat a loud salute on tin pans, and the foreman and some of his men accompanied the departing guests in the bateau as far as the log pile. Here more rousing cheers were given the voyagers, until they rounded a turn of the river and disappeared.

“Well, you fellows have made a hit with that crowd. Your names will be known along this river for a good many years to come,” said Ben, proudly. “How did you enjoy it all, anyway?”

“Ben, I’ve had the time of my life!” declared Ed. “As for the ‘lumber-jacks,’ as you call them, I think they are the manliest, jolliest, best all-round lot of fellows I ever met. As ‘Shorty’ would say, they sure treated us white.”

“They did that,” chimed in George; “and I want to say I have enjoyed it all immensely.”

“Well, I feel some better about having taken you, now, than I did yesterday, when I was running along the river-bank while you were out there below the jam. I want to tell you that you had a mighty close shave, boys, and I’m powerful thankful it turned out as it did,” he added, soberly.

XXV CALLED HOME

It was well toward the evening of the day following when they reached Ben’s cabin. The trip up the river had taken them the best part of two days. The canoemen were agreeably surprised to see Bill and Moze awaiting them at the landing.

“Helloa, you fellows! Where have you been?” asked the trapper, as they stepped ashore and grasped him warmly by the hand.

“Down at the lumber camp; I promised to take the boys there before they went home,” explained Ben.

Ed and George at once started a good-natured wrestling bout with old Moze, who seemed delighted at seeing them. Barking and whining, he jumped about, wagging his tail, until George declared he would lose it.

“When did you get here, Bill?” inquired the guide of his friend, after they had entered the cabin.

“Same morning you left, I reckon. When I saw you were away, I left a note and went on into the settlement. Got back late last night, and I figured I’d mosey around for a day or two and see if you came home. I brought out some mail for Westbrook and you fellows. There’s yours over on the table yonder. By the way, Ben, Westbrook said to tell you he expected to go in with his team and wagon the first part of next week. He said he’d come by here on the old wood-road, so if you wanted anything you could let him know.”

The boys quickly found the letters from home and began to read them. From their manner Ben knew that they had received news of some importance. When they had finished the letters they held a low-toned conference, and then turned toward the guide, who was watching them keenly.

“Nothing wrong, I hope?” he said.

“Nothing, except that we are ordered home,” answered Ed, endeavoring to force a smile.

“The deuce you say!” cried Ben, in dismay.

“Yes, I guess our time is up,” declared George, rather gloomily. “You see, our folks are going away in about two weeks, and, as we expect to enter college in the fall, they won’t see much of us for a while. Consequently they want us with them this summer.”

“Guess that’s only natural,” said Ben, quietly. “Say, it’s going to be some lonesome after you fellows pull out.”

For a time the little group of friends sat about in silence. While they were anxious and eager to see their parents, the boys nevertheless felt badly about leaving Ben, and Bill, and Moze, and the great peaceful forest they had learned to love.

“Well, say, there’s no need of everybody getting the ‘blues,’” laughed the guide. “I’ll hustle around and cook some supper, and then maybe we’ll all feel better.”

That night the boys sat up late, and Ben told Bill of their plucky adventure at the log-jam. It was decided that they should go to the station with Tom Westbrook and his team early the next week. Bill said he would wait over at the cabin to see them off.

It rained all the next day, and the boys busied themselves with packing their belongings. Not the least important were several trophies of the hunt, which they were taking home in proof of their prowess.

The following days were spent in the woods and on the lake with Ben and Bill. Rare golden days they were, filled with flowers and sunshine and song, for the long, dreamy days of early summer had arrived. The boys learned more of the songs and calls of the birds, and the names and uses of the many wild flowers which were constantly bursting into bloom in the woods about the cabin. They saw fishes guarding their gravelly nests of spawn at the bottom of the lake. They found the eggs of turtles at the end of long, tunnel-like excavations in sandy banks. The time sped rapidly, and at length the day for their departure was but a night away.

“Well, this is our last snooze on balsam tips,” said Ed, when they were finally in their bunk.

“Yes, and, do you know, sometimes it all seems like a dream. We certainly have been through a few experiences since we left the city. And let me tell you, Ed, each of them has done us good; I feel that we can take care of ourselves anywhere now,” replied George. “Say, we never found out who ‘The Old Man of the Woods’ is.”

“Well then, I’ll tell you now,” laughed Ben, who had overheard their conversation. “You met him right here the first night, when you worried about the flying squirrels. He has been with you ever since, until you know him well enough to call him by his right name, which is Experience.”

“And is that how you met him?” inquired the boys.

“That is how we must all meet him, if we expect to ever know him well. He’s a rough old fellow, and he don’t make friends easily. You’ve got to prove your worth before he accepts you. If you’re game, he’ll take care of you in great shape and tell you all he knows. But if you’re a quitter, he’ll soon drive you out of his country and make things so unpleasant you’ll never wish to return. Now you know him, and, furthermore, you can consider him your friend, because you’ve made good. Good night.”

“Thank you, Ben. Good night.” And they went to sleep, happy over the well-earned compliment.

They had just finished breakfast next morning when the loud barking of Moze announced the arrival of Westbrook with his team. A moment later the big woodsman stood in the doorway and greeted them.

“Have some breakfast,” urged Ben, hospitably.

“No, thanks; I had my breakfast before I started. Thought I’d just stop a minute to see if I could do anything for you in town.”

“You can take the boys and myself and this luggage, if you’re traveling in light,” said Ben.

“I sure will; but, say, now, it’s too bad you fellows have to pull up stakes so sudden like,” he said, turning to the lads. “This is the prettiest time of the year, too. Guess you’ve had quite a time of it, though, haven’t you?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Ed; “we’ve enjoyed ourselves very much.”

After Ben had insisted, Westbrook drank a cup of coffee. Then they proceeded to load the baggage into the same wagon that had conveyed it from the station almost eight months before.

“Different-looking boys from those that came out in the fall, eh, Ben?” laughed Westbrook, when everything was in and they were ready to climb aboard.

“Some browner,” said Ben.

Bill came forward to say good-by, and Ed and George grasped his hand affectionately. They thanked him for all the pleasure he had given them, and said they hoped some day to come out and see him again. Old Moze came wriggling toward them, and they stooped and petted him.

Then Westbrook spoke to his team, and the wagon bumped away over the long road. The boys waved their hats to Bill, who stood in the doorway, holding Moze by an ear to prevent him from following his departing friends.

At noon they halted, and Ben cooked a simple meal in the woods. This time the boys built the fire, and the two woodsmen declared it a proper one.

“Couldn’t have done that when you came in,” laughed Ben.

“We couldn’t do much of anything then,” replied Ed.

When they resumed their journey, the lads recalled many familiar spots along the way. They went safely over the very place where they had mired to the hubs before, and saw their own pile of rocks and the poles with which they had freed the wagon. They forded the stream which had come near capsizing the load. This time they had no trouble. They bounced and bumped over the rough “corduroy” bridges which had so excited their curiosity on the way to camp. Several times they flushed grouse from close beside the road, and as the birds rose with a roar of wings Ben looked at the lads and smiled, and George was reminded of his first fright in the woods. They started a deer from the edge of a swamp, and watched the nimble-footed creature go bounding along the road ahead of them. Thus the interesting ride continued, until late in the afternoon they drew up before the tiny log station.

The agent remembered them, and said they were lucky to reach there at that time, as an express was due to stop in thirty minutes. Had they missed it they would have been obliged to remain over until the next day. The boys quickly checked their baggage, and then came outside to await the arrival of the train.

“Ben, I’m sure we can never thank you half enough,” said Ed, with feeling.

“Don’t try,” laughed Ben; “I’ve enjoyed it as much as you have. The worst of it all is this breaking up of camp; a woodsman always hates it.” And as he turned to look up the track the boys thought they saw moisture in his kindly eyes. “Well, it hasn’t hurt you any,” he added, quickly recovering himself.

“I should say not,” said George. “I feel as if I could wrestle with a bear.”

“You almost did, once,” Ben chuckled.

“Here she comes. Stand back!” cried the agent, as the great whistling engine made its appearance around a curve.

The boys shook hands with Ben and Westbrook and then stood on the rear platform of the last car and waved their hats at the two broad-shouldered men left behind when the train pulled out for home.

Two days later they were met at the great city terminal by their fathers. Both Dr. Williams and Mr. Rand were surprised and delighted at the improvement in the boys. They took critical note of the firm, bronzed skin, the broadened shoulders and deepened chests, the direct, keen glance of the eyes, and, above all, the erect, confident carriage and free, swinging stride. The inspection ended in approval--Ben had molded well the raw material placed in his hands, and the result was a credit to him.

The experiment was a success; the theory was proven. The lads had returned with interest on the investment. They had gained not only in health and strength, but in much besides. They had a finer, clearer, broader view of life and the living. They had learned peace and beauty and quietness from God’s temple, the wilderness. They had gained strength from the pine-scented air, courage from exposure to hardship and peril, resourcefulness from dependence upon themselves, and a sound knowledge of sound truths from honest old Ben.

“By Jove, Doctor, your plan has worked out wonderfully,” declared Mr. Rand. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible. Why, look at George; he is fit for the freshman crew.” And the proud father was delighted at the prospect, for he, too, had worked from freshman to ’varsity oarsman in his college days.

“Well, you think it has done them as much good as your tutoring trip through Europe, do you?” laughed the Doctor.

“More!” declared Mr. Rand, enthusiastically. “In fact, I’m inclined to agree to that Western proposition of yours for next summer, now that I’ve seen the results of this trip.”

“What is that?” demanded the boys, aroused at the idea of a future trip to the wilds.

“Never mind,” laughed Dr. Williams, winking slyly; “we’ll give you a surprise when the time comes.”

* * * * *

Transcriber’s note:

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are mentioned.

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

A change has been made as follows:

p. 306: Illustration caption added to agree with the Table of Illustrations.