“He had the papers. It seems old Daniel Wilson, who cut the raft, has a son living in Montreal, and Harrison had made some deal with him to get out the timber, if he could find it. He’s paying young Wilson a royalty, I believe.”
“No such thing! The fellow must be an impostor. You should have let me know of this at once, Tom. I can’t imagine what you were thinking of. Do you know the value of walnut now? Never mind! I guess it isn’t too late, if we act quick.”
And, to Tom’s astonishment and alarm, his father threw off the rug and stood up, his eyes bright, looking revitalized. Tom regretted that he had told the story, which he had meant merely to entertain his father.
“Sit down, Father,” he urged, taking his arm gently. “It’s no good. Harrison may be a villain; he certainly tried some rough work on me. But then he made me a cash offer first to leave the place. But, so far as the timber goes, he seems to have his title good. I saw the papers made out by Wilson’s son, all signed and witnessed in proper shape. I don’t see how we can do anything.”
“Papers? A pack of lies! Forgeries!” snorted Mr. Jackson. “Why, I knew old Dan Wilson well. He’s got no son living. Even if he had it would make no difference; for the Daniel Wilson Lumber Company failed five years before Dan’s death, and I bought out all the concern, all the assets, every stick and scrap of them. Paid fifteen hundred dollars, and lost about a thousand on it; but I only meant it to help Dan out. The raft was included in the assets; I’ll show you the papers. They’re in the safe. I never expected to see any of that walnut, but it’s mine—all of it. Why, I’m the Wilson Lumber Company myself, now!”
CHAPTER VIII
THE TREASURE
“You mean to say you really own the timber yourself, Father?” Tom cried, almost stupefied. For just a moment he had the idea that his father’s mind had become slightly deranged; but Mr. Jackson’s practical and competent manner, growing more vigorous every minute, put that idea to flight.
“Of course I do. Armstrong knows all about it. What a pity you didn’t tell him when you were in town! But it can’t be helped. We’re not too late—I hope. What has that Harrison done toward lifting the walnut?”
“Not very much, when I left, three days ago. I think he’d just got to work. They had dug out quite a number of the logs.”
“How many men did he have? How many teams? You don’t know? You should have found out, Tom. Anyhow, it’ll be a matter of weeks to get all that lumber up and raft or haul it away. But we don’t want him to have any claim for salvage against us. We must get on the spot the first minute we can. We’ll start for Coboconk at once, my boy.”