Frank hesitated.
“I don’t know,” he said, slowly; “I wouldn’t mind. Some of the others might growl. But you haven’t told me how it is you are here—in this rig.”
“It’s a pretty long story, but I’ll cut it short and make it clear in a few words. My father is dead. He was supposed to be very rich, but, when he died, his property was found to be involved. He was engaged in the lumber business, and he owned large tracts of forest up here in this State. Every winter he cut a great amount of timber, which was brought down the river in the spring. He died early last spring, and, when it was found that his affairs were involved and he was not as rich as supposed, everything came to a standstill. There seemed to be no one to carry on his business, and so not half of his timber was run down the river. When I realized just where I had been left in the world, I set about trying to straighten father’s affairs out. It took some time to get, so I could see through anything, but, at last, I found out about how things stood. There was a chance of pulling things out and putting the business on its feet with good management. But where was the manager? Then I decided to give up college and take up my father’s business. The creditors kindly agreed to give me time, and that’s about all there is to be told, save that I am trying to get the timber down the river, even though it is out of season. The price of lumber has advanced, and I can make a big strike toward squaring things if I can get the logs out. The river is not as low as usual at this season, and I am running the logs, although it has cost me much more to get them out than it would have cost last spring. I’ll have to give up getting a drive off the East Branch, but I have brought one down the main river, and there is another somewhere this side of Twin Lakes. It should be at Melway by this time. It is the largest drive of any, and I am going down with it. That’s all. Now you understand why I am here, dressed in this rig.”
Frank’s eyes shone with admiration and sympathy.
“Old man,” he said, seriously, “I admire your grit! It’s plain enough you are made of the right stuff. You have never been brought up to work, and yet, when the time came, you showed you were ready to do your duty.”
“Well,” smiled Fred, “some people who have always known me are dazed by the change. They always said I was spoiled—I would not amount to anything. When father died and it was learned that he had not left his affairs in very good shape, great sympathy was expressed for my mother. They said it was so hard to be left a widow with no fortune and a worthless son to support. They are beginning to change their minds about the worthless son, for they have discovered that he can wear common clothes and work as hard as any man. And I’ll live to pay every dollar my father owed, and I will support my mother in absolute comfort the rest of her life.”
“You’ll do it!” cried Merry, enthusiastically. “I see it in your face! You are all right, Forest! Sometimes it takes a great calamity to bring out the manhood in a fellow. Yours has been shown by the death of your father and the condition his affairs were left in. I believe you will become a smart, capable business man. This very misfortune may result for the best so far as you are concerned. Fred Forest, I am proud of you!”
“That is somewhat different from some of my former friends,” laughed the young lumberman.
“How do you mean?”