“Dey no come back here, I don’t tink,” he said as Bob finished. “But I find out ver’ queek and if dey did I feex heem bon.”
At first it was impossible to learn that the five men had returned to the camp but, after many inquiries, Jean learned that they had come in about a half hour before the arrival of the crew.
“They were wet to the skin and looked about all in,” the man said who had seen them.
Having learned that they were in camp Jean was not long in finding them. They were in the cook’s quarters huddling close to the stove. They looked up in fright as Jean, followed by the boys, entered.
“You one bon bunch,” Jean declared in disgust as he stood looking at them. “When you geet dry an’ rest, I, Jean Larue, will geeve you beeg lickin’, one at a time.”
They were a thoroughly cowered quintet as they crouched there by the hot stove and Bob could not help but pity them.
“After all,” he whispered to Rex, “they live as they have been brought up.” Then, as a sudden thought struck him, he turned to Jean and drew him away a short distance.
“Jean, isn’t that big fellow Baptiste Deveraux?” he asked.
“Oui, dat heem.”
“I thought so. Haven’t I heard that he claims to be the best log roller in Maine?”