Joe stood on the jam, watching the crew dry-picking out the logs and throwing them into the water, burrowing down for a place to use more powder, when his name was shouted. He looked up, and his heart gave a decided thump. Above him stood William Crooks and Jack.
Joe leaped the logs and ran up the bank. “How did you get here?” he cried. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“We thought we’d surprise you,” said Jack sedately. “I persuaded dad. I wanted to see how our drive was coming down.”
“It isn’t coming down just now,” Joe observed. “We can’t stir it. Here, come over to my tent and make yourselves at home. Oh, Jimmy,” he called to the cook, “rustle a good meal, will you? Spread yourself on something fancy, now.”
The cook grinned amiably, and became suddenly shamefaced as Jack smiled at him. “I ain’t got much fixin’s,” he apologized. “If th’ lady, there’d tell me what she’d like——”
“Why, you’re Jimmy Bowes!” cried Jack. “I remember you, twelve years ago on dad’s camp on the Little Canoe. You used to give me lumps from the brown sugar barrel. Jimmy, I’ll always love you for that.”
Jimmy Bowes blushed to the top of his bald head as he shook hands. “You’ve growed,” said he. “Sure, I remember, but I didn’t think you’d know the old bull-cook. You’re—you’re real purty!” Suddenly embarrassed by his own candour and Joe’s laughter he retreated to his own domain where, cursing his cookee, he plunged into preparations for a magnificent meal.
McKenna and MacNutt came ashore and met Crooks.
“Well, boys,” said the old lumberman, “she’s a teaser, hey!”
“You bet,” replied McKenna. “She’s solid as a cellar—froze to the bottom all the way. Still, the water’s risin’ now, an’ she may pull most any time.” He did not believe a word of his statement, but he spoke so that Joe should not be discouraged. Crooks, who did not believe a word of it either, nodded.