When Titans Drive/Chapter 2

Y 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 briskly.

“Sure!”

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.