When Titans Drive

by Burt L. Standish

They must have resources enough to meet that note, at least. The trust could not keep the price of lumber down indefinitely. They must weather the storm in some way. And when this drive was safe at the mills, ready to be cut into lumber, they would have the laugh on Elihu Crane.

Oblivious to the men about him, even to the fact that the cook had some time ago announced supper, Bainbridge began to search his mind for means of staving off the evil day. Most of the stocks and bonds constituting his private fortune had been already pledged as collateral for loans to the firm. He still had a few thousand dollars’ worth of Steel Preferred which could be sold; and there was Pinecrest, the beautiful and costly home on the outskirts of Bangor, which had been left him by his father. It should not be difficult to raise a mortgage of ten thousand, at least, on the place.

“The note’s for ten thousand, so that’s all straightened out,” Bainbridge murmured, with a snap of his fingers. “The money from the stock can go for current expenses. I’ll fix it up this very night.”

He did. Fortunately Tweedy held his power of attorney with the right to sign checks and execute papers of any sort, so it was possible for him to put through these deals without his returning to Bangor. That another note for nearly as much as the first fell due in little more than a fortnight Bainbridge knew quite well. By that time, however, he fully intended to have the drive down as far as their mill at Lancaster, fifty miles or so above Bangor. And it is always possible to raise money on timber, even in the rough.

Of course, if the trust continued their campaign of cutting prices Bob’s plans would be materially affected. He could not believe, however, that they would do such a thing for any great length of time. A dollar meant as much to them as to any one, and even the pleasure of ruining a competitor would scarcely compensate for the loss of so much money.

A long letter of instruction and explanation was written to Tweedy that night, and despatched the first thing in the morning by the trusty hand of Joe Moose, the Indian. That off his mind, Bob returned to his drive with renewed vigor, for the necessity for haste was now even greater than before. It was a question of getting the logs down in double-quick time or being dragged into the bankruptcy court; and that sort of notoriety did not appeal in the least to the young man.

It was this feeling of necessity which got Bob up next morning before the blackness of the night was more than faintly tinged by streaks of pale gray in the east. He wanted to be off and doing; even necessary inaction chafed. It seemed an eternity before the men had finished breakfast, and were ready for the day’s work. As a matter of fact, they took less time than usual, for something of Bainbridge’s intense eagerness for speed seemed to have made itself felt.

All morning Bob worked like a Trojan getting the drive out into the Katahdin River. He did not storm and swear at his men, as many bosses do. Instead he had a way of jollying them along in a manner which might sound superficially like fun, but which held more than an undercurrent of seriousness. He treated them as human beings, not as if they were slaves from whom every last atom of work was to be extracted. And yet, when the need arose, he could hand out a rebuke, the caustic sting of which was enough to make a man’s hair stand on end. The result was that the crew soon admired him, and when they found how urgent was the need for haste they fell to with a will, and gave the best that was in them.

Bainbridge was not long in perceiving their attitude, and it gratified him intensely. He had never actually had charge of a drive before. He knew the theory, of course, but that is very different from the practical operation; and the discovery that he could handle a rough-and-ready crowd like this in a manner so totally different from that generally practiced by bosses of crews gave him no small satisfaction.

By dint of constant labor, at which Bob spared neither himself nor his men, the drive was successfully swung into the slightly larger river by two o’clock. There was no real respite even then. The stream was almost as difficult as the Megantic, and constant watchfulness was necessary to prevent fresh jams at a number of points. Consequently the men snatched a hurried dinner in relays and hustled back to work again.