“Done!” snapped Frank. “Forest, I want a pair of boots and an ax. I’ll have a crack at those logs.”
“Not on your life!” exclaimed the young lumberman, turning pale. “I wouldn’t think of letting you try such a thing when expert drivers can’t crack the jam.”
Frank smiled in a quiet manner.
“I don’t see how I can back out now, old man,” came calmly from his lips. “If I did, it would be the first time in my life, and that would spoil my record.”
“Record be hanged!” cried Forest. “Those are my logs, and I say you can’t try such a foolish trick!”
“Oh, he wouldn’t durst to try it, anyway,” sneered the foreman. “If ye let him alone, he’ll back out.”
The young lumberman turned angrily on Sullivan, threatening to discharge him if he opened his mouth again. The foreman became quiet, but he gave Merriwell a look that stirred all the blood in the latter’s body.
“Forest,” said Frank, with the same apparent calmness, although he was seething internally, “I never took water in my life, and you are no friend to me if you put me in such a bad light now.”
The drivers had gathered around, all of them hearing what had passed. Forest saw some of them grinning in a manner that plainly said they doubted the earnestness of this quiet youth who appeared to desire attempting such a feat.
That was enough to anger Forest more than ever. He opened his mouth to say something to the men, and then he suddenly remembered the stories he had heard of the remarkable deeds of Frank Merriwell. He turned and surveyed Frank steadily for some seconds, and when he next spoke it was to order some boots.