“Come here a minute,” Mr. Golden ordered, beckoning with his hand.
Jean, peavey in hand, came running to them.
“What do you think of it?” Bob asked a moment later, after Jack had pointed out the situation to him.
“I tink heem bout right,” and the Frenchman cast an admiring glance toward Jack. “I tink heem key log, oui.”
“See if you can budge it,” Mr. Golden proposed.
But although Jean sank the sharp end of his peavey deep into the log and exerted all his great strength, he was unable to move it.
“Have to feex heem wid powder, oui,” he panted after he had pushed and pulled for some minutes.
“It’s going to be a pretty hard job to get the dynamite in the right place don’t you think, Jean?” Jack asked.
“Oui, heem be ver’ hard but I feex heem,” and the Frenchman started for the shore while the others sat down on a log to await his return.
It was only a short time before they saw him coming back unwinding a coil of wire as he stepped from log to log.