Crocker's mill was located down on the Penobscot. It was a new place, filled with the latest of machinery, and employing over half a hundred hands. Dale visited it on Monday afternoon, going down on a small lumber raft that happened to be passing.
The din around this hive of industry was terrific, for Crocker turned out much lumber in the rough for a furniture company, and the buzzing and zipping went on constantly from morning till night. The mill itself was knee-deep in shavings and sawdust, a good portion of which was fed into the furnaces under the boilers for fuel.
"Sorry, young man, but I can't take you on," said the superintendent of the works. "Had an opening last week, but it is filled now. Come around in two or three weeks. If Frank Martinson recommends you I know you're all right." And thus poor Dale had his trip for nothing. It took him until midnight to get home, and he had to walk a good part of the distance.
But he was not one to give up easily, and two days later borrowed one of John Larson's horses and directly after dinner set off for the mill run by Peter Odell. This was up in the hills, on the edge of a small lake, a ride of thirteen miles.
The way was rough, but Dale did not mind this, and as he loved to ride on horseback, the journey proved pleasant enough. Once he stopped at a brook to let the horse drink and sprang down himself to quench his thirst and bathe his face and hands.
"This is like old times, when I used to be home with all the others," he thought. "Oh, how I wish those times could come back."
At last he came in sight of the mill, nestling among the trees bordering the little lake—a scene full of rural beauty. To his surprise all was quiet about the place.
"It can't be that Odell has shut down, too," he thought. "If that is so we ought to have heard of it before this."
He was just turning into a side path leading to the mill when a man leaped out from behind a clump of trees and caught his animal by the bridle. The fellow was a French-Canadian, with a dark face and dark, evil-looking eyes.
"Hi! what do you mean by that?" demanded Dale. He did not like the looks of the stranger.