Frank Merriwell in Maine; Or, The Lure of 'Way Down East

by Burt L. Standish

At dark that night the raft tied up to the bank. It was necessary to let the loose logs go through the night. In the morning they would be found strung along the banks of the river for miles upon miles. The raft would be started immediately after breakfast, and would get well down into the midst of the timber by the time the men along shore could push all the logs from the banks and get them into the current.

But that night the tie-up had been made near some camps, and the tired men had a place to eat and sleep in comfort.

The cook took possession of the camp, and it was not long before he had served a meal of boiled pork, baked beans, hot biscuit and molasses.

The beans steamed and sent out an odor that was quite enough to make a hungry man feel ravenous, and the drivers, the most of them soaking wet, gathered about the table.

Forest had offered Frank and his friends a chance to eat at the first table, but Merry declined, saying the drivers should have the first opportunity. The men appreciated this, and it served in a great measure to make them feel that the boys were not intruders.

It was a spectacle to watch those men “stow away” the pork and beans, washed down by boiling hot tea. They ate like starving men.

Sullivan was among them. He did not even look at Frank Merriwell, and he made no talk at supper, save to growl in a surly manner at the cookee, a boy of seventeen.

The foreman had been in an ugly mood all day. No one dared ask how he had received the scars and bruises on his face, but in some manner it became rumored among the crew that Sullivan and Pombere had been whipped in a fight at Mattawamkeag. Then it was reported that they had been whipped by two beardless youths, and the victors were two of Forest’s guests who were going down the river with the drift. This latter statement, however, was not believed, for Sullivan was the terror of the river, and the drivers were certain he could whip the whole of Merriwell’s party with one hand tied behind him.

When the crew had eaten there was still plenty of hot beans and biscuits left, and the cookee soon arranged the table for Forest and his friends.

Every lad felt that he could eat with a relish, and soon they were doing their best to clear the table of food. Never before had baked beans tasted so good. Even Jack Diamond, who had a distaste for beans, admitted that they were good enough to eat.