“Take it or leave it,” said Wismer, a little puzzled. The Joe Kent with whom he had made his contract had certainly been easy; but this bronzed young fellow leaning over the rail was different. “You don’t want to forget that penalty clause,” he added warningly.
“Not for a minute,” said Kent. “I know quite well that Ackerman or Garwood framed up that cinch contract. And I know you’re trying to get the logs cheap now, and give them the double-cross. I’m not kicking—merely pointing out that I know what you’re up to.”
Wismer reddened, and for the first time found a difficulty in meeting the young man’s eye. “You’re talking utter nonsense,” said he. “I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t much care. If you like to take up the offer I’ve just made, all right. If not, I’ll hold you to the letter of our contract.”
“I’m holding myself to it,” said Joe. “I want you to have your booms ready for me, for the first tow of logs goes down the lake to-night.”
He watched Wismer’s launch gather way, and turned to the business in hand. At dusk the Ada Bell picked up one tow and the tug another, and started down the lake. The tired crew went ashore just above Fire Island, where the camp was established. Joe and McKenna remained on the Sophie. After supper the foreman came aboard to plan the next day’s work.
“Boys,” said Joe, “who cut that boom?”
“McCane, an’ no one else,” MacNutt answered, and the others nodded.
“That’s what I think,” said Joe, “but I’ll never be able to prove it. Now, then, about the drive. Is it possible to get it down on time?”
“Shure,” said McKenna, “if we have good weather.”
“Not unless,” said Tobin.