“‘Well, thank goodness, we’re holding our own,’ the corporal said.”
Rex laughed heartily at the story and soon after they went out in the bright sunshine.
News of the contest had spread through the camp and they found the men in high spirits, gathered about in groups.
“Skeets has got to do his best this time,” they heard one man declared, and they stopped beside the group to listen. “I’ve seen that man, Baptiste, roll, and take it from me he’s no slouch.”
“And no more is Skeets,” spoke up another. “Two to one on Skeets.”
But no one seemed inclined to take the bet and they moved on toward the river, where they could see Jean and Skeets.
“Dis ees one bon place,” Jean was saying as they drew near.
“Going to pull it off right now?” Bob asked.
“Oui. I tink dis one bon time. Den we geet deese logs started,” Jean replied.
Just below where the logs had jammed was a little bay where the current had worn away the bank. There the water was deep and comparatively still. A perfect place, as Jean had said, for the log rolling contest.