“Take it down home with us and give it to father,” replied Bob as he put the bottle back in his pocket. “I don’t know whether he’ll want to make a charge against Ben or not. You know he’s apt to be pretty easy when it comes to a thing like that, and—”
“Anyhow,” Jack interrupted, “I guess Ben’ll think twice before he tries any more of his tricks to keep back father’s work now that he knows we have that bottle. Do you know, Bob,” he continued, “when Jacques got that bottle he saved the day for father, so far as that contract is concerned. At least that’s my opinion. The way things were going it was only a question of time when Ben would have hit on something which would have spilled the beans in good shape.”
“I guess you’re right about that,” Bob agreed. “He came pretty near doing it when he sent those fellows up to set fire to the bunk house. If they had succeeded it would have set us back a week or more. Father’s got you to thank for that.”
Jack’s face flushed at the praise and he tried to disclaim the credit, but Bob insisted that it was due him and finally he let it go at that.
“Do you think father’ll have any trouble in proving his title to the tract?” he asked.
“Don’t see why he should,” Bob replied. “He’s got the deed and it ought to be clear sailing I should think.”
“Well, it’s been a bully vacation,” Jack declared as he got up from his chair. “I suppose we’ve got to go tomorrow, but I sure do hate to leave the woods. But of course we want to spend a few days with the folks before we go back to the Fortress.”
“Sure we do. But come on and make it snappy,” Bob cried as he pulled on his mittens. “I feel like the fellow who put the pep in pepper this morning, and I want one more whack at those big spruces before we leave.”
So they spent the day with the crew, adding log after log to those already piled up on the shore of the lake, waiting for the breaking up of the ice in the spring.
The evening they spent with the men in the bunk house, telling stories and singing songs to the accompaniment of Bob’s guitar.