“I don’t doubt for a single minute but that he had his men jam those logs there on purpose,” Bob declared, as he drew his chair up to the table. “But what I can’t understand is how they could fix them so that dynamite won’t start them.”
“You just wait till we get at ’em and we’ll start something,” Jack asserted, as he helped himself to a huge plate of baked beans.
“You’re great on starting things,” Bob laughed, “but how about finishing them?”
“None of your kidding,” Jack laughed back. “I guess I’ve finished more than one job that you started. There, I guess that’ll hold him for a while,” he declared with a wink at Rex.
Bob made no reply to the indictment, for he well knew that his brother was very efficient both at beginning and finishing tasks.
They were about half through supper when Jean Larue, his usually smiling face wearing a deep frown, entered the dining room.
“Well, Jean, what’s the matter now?” Mr. Golden asked, as the Frenchman drew his chair up to the table.
“Dem logs, heem no mean to start,” Jean growled, as he reached for the dish of beans.
“Don’t you worry, Jean,” Bob gibed. “Jack is going out after he eats his supper and push ’em off for you.”
Jean glanced at the speaker, a puzzled expression on his face. He always had difficulty in deciding whether or not Bob was serious. But as he caught the twinkle in the boy’s eyes, a broad grin spread over his face.