The lumberjacks shook hands awkwardly with their guests, except that Spike merely made a move to do so, then quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his Mackinaw. Hippy acted as master of ceremonies, and, after waving jacks and guests to seats, cleared his throat, and made a complimentary speech.
"Captain Gray got stage fright at the last minute and told me that I must tell you what he wished you to know," he said. "I'm not going to make a speech, but what I am to say is, that when we get through with this job Mr. Gray and myself have decided to declare a dividend. That is, we are going to give each one of you men who started out with us, and who have done such fine, loyal work, a good-sized cash bonus. I perhaps don't need to tell you that I never made a speech in my life—so my friends say—but money is a loud talker; so, at the end of the season, we'll let money tell you how much we appreciate the good work you fellows have done."
Henry, who sat blinking at Lieutenant Wingate, at this juncture rolled over, and, curling up, went to sleep.
"You see," cried Hippy. "Even the bear goes to sleep when I talk." The men gave three cheers for Wingate & Gray, and three more for the Overland girls. "Help us get these tables out of the way, you fellows. We are going to have some music. Speech making is ended."
Nora Wingate was already conferring with the "fiddler." Then, as the tables were moved to one side, Nora launched into a lively song that she had sung to the doughboys in France, the fiddler accompanying her on his violin. There were rough spots in the fiddling, but these Nora submerged in the great volume of her fine contralto voice. The song finished, the men howled for more and stamped on the floor. Nora sang again.
"We will now have a dance," announced Grace. "You boys will please act natural, and for goodness sake don't step on our toes with those hob-nail boots. Choose your partners."
Not a jack moved.
"Help me haul 'em out, Tom," cried Hippy, yanking a big Canadian to the floor and standing him up beside Nora Wingate. Tom did a similar service for another one, and in a few seconds five lumberjacks, red of face, shifting uneasily on their feet, were standing beside their partners on the dance floor.
"Hit it up, Mr. Fiddler," called Tom, whereupon the fiddler began sawing the strings of his violin and calling off for the dance, a square dance, and soon the crash of hob-nail boots on the board floor made the shack tremble, the fiddler beating time with his foot.
Had it not been that the Overland girls knew the dance they never could have followed the fiddler's calls.