Suddenly a new thought occurred to Scott. “Where are they, Mac?”
“Lying all over the woods.”
“I thought so. Round them up into the bunk house, Mac. This is something that I think I can solve.”
“You mean to say that you are not going to fire them?” Mac shouted in amazement.
“Certainly not,” Scott answered with decision. “Do you think I want the whole crew added to Foster Wait’s gang? If I am not mistaken, that was the purpose in getting them drunk. Round them up in the bunk house where they can’t get any more, and I’ll see what I can do. Isn’t there any one sober enough to help you?”
“Ben and the bull cook seem to have been overlooked,” Mac growled.
“They were in camp, that’s the reason. Get them to help you,” Scott ordered, as he took his hat and started for the door.
Mac, growling like a polar bear, went back to camp to carry out Scott’s orders. He wanted to fire the whole crew and it went against his grain to have to act as nursemaid to such a bunch, but orders were orders with him, and he would carry them out to the letter.
Scott started straight for the opposite mountain growling almost as savagely as Mac at his own stupidity. Why hadn’t he guessed where Dick had obtained his whisky? And why hadn’t he guessed why Foster had been hanging around the camp? And why hadn’t it occurred to him what was at the end of that well-beaten trail up there on the mountains? He had certainly been a bonehead, but now he was determined to get to the bottom of it, and the first thing to do was to follow out that trail.
He was walking rapidly up the road, still grumbling at his stupidity, when he saw a stranger sitting on a stump beside the road. He had almost passed him when he realized with a start that it was Hopwood. His iron hat was replaced with a soft felt such as all the mountaineers wore and it changed his appearance completely. He laughed when he saw Scott’s amazement.