He was overruled, however, by both Bainbridge and Griggs, who were quite certain the logs could be saved at an expenditure of about a fifth of their value. And since Bob was in charge of the woods end of the business, the older man was forced to give in.
There followed, during a hasty breakfast, a brief consultation regarding the steps Tweedy should take toward getting additional credit, at the same time doing his best, of course, to sell at once some of their big stock of manufactured lumber. Griggs was given instructions as to the method of working and the number of men to keep. Then came a hurried farewell between the two partners.
The sun had scarcely risen above the fringe of trees around the camp before Tweedy was being driven rapidly toward the nearest railroad station, while Bob, accompanied only by Joe Moose, an Indian guide, was sitting in the stern of a canoe, paddling steadily up Chebargo Stream.
CHAPTER III. MORE TREACHERY
The Megantic drive, starting from a point some forty miles northwest of Chebargo, was already in motion. Its course would be down the Megantic Stream through several ponds and lakes into the Katahdin River, and thence down the Penobscot to the mills at Bangor.
By paddling upstream and making three portages of less than a mile each, Bainbridge and the guide cut off a lot of distance, and struck the Megantic between the second and third lake toward three in the afternoon.
Knowing when Pete Schaeffer, the drive boss, had started, Bob calculated that he would have advanced considerably beyond this point, and turned the canoe downstream, keeping a close lookout along the banks for signs which would inevitably be left by a great drive.
The country was rough and wild, the stream boiling and tumbling between rather high, rocky banks. Presently, however, these gave place to lower, muddy stretches, which bore no single trace of stranded logs, or the tracks made by the rear crew following along behind a big drive and “sacking” the River.
It took Bob very little time to make certain of this, and his heavy, dark brows came suddenly together above the bridge of his well-shaped nose, a single, emphatic line.
“The drive hasn’t passed,” he said abruptly, thrusting his paddle straight down by the side of the canoe, and stopping the frail craft instantly.