They talked matters over until the dinner horn sounded. Mr. Golden said that he and Mr. Switzer would have to leave soon after dinner in order to catch the afternoon train for Skowhegan, as he had to attend an important directors’ meeting at the bank the next morning.
The four horses arrived soon after the two men left, and the following morning saw three teams hard at work trying to catch up on the hauling. The sick horses were rapidly recovering, and Sam declared that they would be able to work in a day or two.
All that day the two boys worked with the crew cutting down the big spruce trees, rejoicing in the thought that every one added to those already cut, brought their father so much nearer to the fulfillment of his contract. It had been moderating all day, and toward nightfall it began to rain.
“Looks like we’re in fer a thaw,” Tom declared as they entered the mess room for supper.
Soon the rain was coming down in a steady pour, which lasted until about eight o’clock, when the wind shifted into the northwest and the mercury began to fall rapidly. In another half hour the rain had ceased, and with a sigh of relief Tom stepped to the door of the office and glanced at the thermometer hanging just outside.
“Faith and she’s tumbled twenty degrees in the last hour,” he declared, coming back into the room. “There’ll be one peach of a crust in the mornin’ I’m thinkin’.”
The next day was Sunday and the boys had decided to get an early start and spend the day with their Indian friend, Kernertok.
“Hurrah!” Jack shouted, when, just as day was breaking the next morning, he rushed out of the bunk house, closely followed by Bob. “There’s a crust strong enough to hold a horse.”
It was many degrees below zero, and as he had declared, the surface of the snow was frozen solid.
“I really believe we can skate on it,” Bob asserted as he slid about on the smooth surface.