“Well, why not do this? In the morning the men can go to work right where they left off. You and I’ll go down about a mile toward Ben’s camp and watch. If we see them coming we can give a signal and long before they can get here the men can all be at work on the other side of the clearing.”
“Sure and it’s a foin head ye got,” and the foreman cast an admiring glance at the boy.
“I believe he’s struck it,” Bob agreed, giving his brother a hearty slap on the back. “And if you agree, Tom, we’ll try it.”
“Sure and it’s jest the ticket,” Tom said as he took the checker board from the table. “It’s your foist move.”
The game was hardly started, however, when the door was pushed open without warning and Jacques Lamont stepped in to the room.
“Hello, Jacques,” shouted both the boys, springing to their feet, Bob forgetting that he had one side of the checker board on his knees.
“Hey, thar, will yez look ter what yer after doing,” Tom called, as the checker men slid to the floor.
“Sorry, Tom,” Bob apologized. “I guess we’ll have to begin that game all over again.”
“And jest when I had one illegant start on yer,” Tom grumbled as he too got to his feet and gave the Frenchman a hearty welcome.
After the exchange of greetings, Jacques told them that he was going back to Canada to finish out the season trapping, and hoped to get together another good load before spring. But, on being urged by the boys and Tom, he agreed to spend a couple of days with them.