“I hope Sandy won’t be late,” Bob said, as they made their way back to the hotel.
Back in the office once more, Bob called his father’s office in Skowhegan. He got the connection almost at once, and after telling him about the hold-up with the drive, he informed him regarding their plans. Mr. Golden listened without interrupting until he had finished.
“It looks to me as though it might be a serious matter,” he declared, after Bob had told him all he knew. “But, for the life of me, I don’t see how you can well do otherwise. But be very careful and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Bob promised that they would be careful, and after a few more minutes of talking he hung up.
It seemed to the anxious boys that noon would never come. They walked about the little village and spent some time on the jam of logs. It was warm in the sun and the snow was melting rapidly, making heavy going for a team.
“I don’t suppose it makes much difference, after all, if he is late,” Bob said, as they were slowly making their way back to the hotel. “We won’t get up to Jackman in time to make a start from there till morning anyway, but the time sure does drag.”
Dinner was ready by the time they got to the house, and they lost no time in sitting down at the table. As soon as they had finished they got their belongings together on the porch, for they knew that the stage might show up at any moment. But the moments lengthened into hours, and it was almost three o’clock before they heard the sound of sleigh bells.
“I guess he’s coming at last,” Bob declared, as he jumped up and ran out to the road.
He was right, for, as he reached the road, the stage whirled around a curve, and a moment later the steaming horses were brought to a stop close to the porch.
“Sure and of all the soft slushy goin’ I ever seed this is the worse,” the driver declared, as he jumped from the stage, or rather sled, for that is what it was. A long sled, fitted with a body having sides about a foot high, which boasted of three seats capable of accommodating three passengers each, it is much used in northern Maine in the winter. The natives call it a pung.