“How are we going to get down to that island?” Rex asked after Mr. Golden had left.
“Go down on the logs, of course,” Jack replied. “You see,” he explained, “that’s the quickest way to get there. Of course if we had a boat in the river ahead of the logs we could make better time, but as we haven’t we’ll have to make the best of it. But Rex ought to have a pair of calked boots if he’s going to ride the logs down,” he added turning to Bob.
“That’s so,” Bob agreed. “I guess we can pick up a pair at Sim’s, but we’ve got to make it snappy.”
They started for the store on the run and, having found a pair of boots to fit Rex they were back in almost no time, as Jack put it.
“Come on, now, let’s go,” Bob cried as they reached the river, now filled with the floating logs. “Now Rex, you want to be careful,” he added. “You can’t slip with those boots on, but, if you step on a small log its apt to turn on you. Better stick to the big ones.”
They had been running rapidly from log to log while Bob was speaking. Rex had some trouble at first in keeping his balance, but he was quick to catch on to the knack and by the time they had reached the head of the drive, he insisted that he was as good as any of them.
“I’ll be an old stager in another day,” he laughed as he began to dance on a giant spruce.
Jean and his men with the exception of the cook, who had been sent back to follow the drive down in the big scow, were on the foremost of the logs.
“How do they tell which of these logs belong to who?” Rex laughed.
“That’s easy,” Bob replied. “If you’ll look you’ll see that each log is marked or rather cut with a certain brand See that X on the end of that log you’re standing on? Well, that means that the log belongs to Mr. Ben Donahue, better known as Big Ben.”