Big Ben Donohue, a man of Irish descent and a local political boss, owned a big lumber camp a few miles down the lake. Having been under-bid, in a large contract with The Great Northern Star Paper Company by Mr. Golden the summer previous, he had tried in many ways during the winter to delay their work, but thanks to the two boys, he had failed to accomplish his purpose.
“There’s Cap’n Seth,” Jack shouted, as a large middle-aged man swung his cap to them from the deck of the small steamer as she steamed up to the wharf.
“Hello, Cap’n Seth,” both boys shouted, as they heard the bell on the boat ring for “back water.”
Cap’n Seth was an old timer on Moosehead Lake. He had worked on the lake as boy and man as far back as he could remember, and no one knew the lake better than he.
“How’s the byes?” he greeted them, as he sprang to the wharf and threw a half hitch of the rope which he held in his hand about a stout post at the end of the wharf.
“Fine and dandy, and how’s yourself?” Bob asked, as he shook hands.
“If I felt any better I’d be scared,” Cap’n Seth declared, biting off a large hunk of “sailor’s delight.”
“Is the Twilight going to tow for Ben?” Bob asked, as they started toward the office.
“Ah huh, but I know what you’re a thinkin’ and ye needn’t worry. We’ll beat her across easy. He hasn’t got his boom mor’n half done and won’t get started ’fore ’bout three o’clock, an’ we ought ter be half way across by that time,” the captain assured them.
“We’re all ready fer ye to start, Cap’n,” Tom Bean said, as they entered the office where the foreman was busy putting some papers away. “’Spose ye’ve had yer dinner,” he added, with a wink at the boys.