In five minutes they were banging at the door of the boom company’s representative, bringing that worthy citizen from his bed to the window.
“Your boom has gone out and my drive is over the rapids into the lake,” Joe told him. “I haven’t got time to talk about damages or liabilities now. I want your steamers day and night till I sweep my logs up and every other boat you can hire as well. I want every river man you can lay your hands on, too. I’ll pay for these things at once, pending the adjustment of any question of responsibility. Will you do your best for me?”
“Sure I will,” said the agent. “Wait till I get my clothes on and I’ll come along. It’s funny about that boom. I don’t see——”
But Joe and McKenna were already out of earshot, hurrying back to the river. The camp was buzzing like a hornet’s nest. Men were catching up ropes, chains, peavies, and pike poles and hurrying off into the darkness. Joe, Tobin, and McKenna followed.
As they passed the head of the channel where Deever and half a dozen men were stationed the foreman called to them:
“I’ve got something to show you, Mr. Kent. It won’t take five minutes.”
He led the way over the logs and down the cribwork and booming of the channel, and stopped: “One end of the boom swung down here when she went out,” he said, and lowered his lantern. “Look at that!”
They bent low and peered at the ends of three joined boom-timbers. The ends were white, square, and new.
“Sawed through, by thunder!” cried McKenna.