"I reckon it's O.K., boys," put in a fourth lumberman. "We might as well sign and have done with it."
"That's the talk," said John Hoover eagerly. "Let's have the business over with, and I'll stand treat at the bar."
He drew a folded paper from his pocket and asked for the use of the pen and ink at the desk.
Just at that moment two lumbermen came in. The older was a man Dale and Owen had met at the camp—one of the fellows who had helped them to take their trunks to the river.
"Hullo, Martin, what's up here?" he called out.
"This aint none of your business, Peterson," cried John Hoover, in alarm.
"We're going to contract for the rest of the season with Hoover," answered the lumberman named Martin.
"Don't you do it, boys."
"Why not?" demanded the four, simultaneously.
"If you do, you'll be sorry for it."