They climbed aboard. Mr. Marlin touched the starter and the engine began to chug. He let in his clutch but the car would not move. The car happened to be standing on a moist spot and its great weight had pressed the wheels far down into the soft new road. Mr. Marlin threw on the power. The truck jumped, something snapped sharply and a banging noise followed as the car moved jerkily ahead.
"Thunderation!" cried the forester. "I've broken the differential. I bet ten dollars on it." And investigation proved his diagnosis was correct. "I suppose it will take all summer to get a new part," growled the forester. "This truck will have to stand here idle until repairs come. But we can't stand here idle. Come on."
They set off down the road. After a long hike they came to the skidways at the main road. Nobody was in sight.
"We'll begin at one end and work toward the other until we hear somebody coming. Then we'll have business elsewhere."
Pile by pile they scaled the logs, Charley using the log-rule under Mr. Marlin's close observation, while the forester himself kept tally. Alone in the big woods, they talked freely.
"Why do you suppose Lumley took a chance like this?" asked the forester. "He might have known he'd get caught."
"Primarily because he wanted the money, of course," maintained Charley. "But there's another thing that may play a part in the matter. Did you know that Lumley's folks once owned this virgin timber?"
"I've heard that a generation or two back the Lumley family owned big tracts of land hereabouts. Naturally some of that land would now be included within the limits of the state's holdings."
"When I was living at Lumley's, he told me over and over about his family's having owned this timber and his grandfather's having been swindled out of it. He seemed to me to be mighty unreasonable about it. He was awful sore, and said he'd be a millionaire to-day if he had all the timber his grandfather owned and that it was his by rights, anyway. I recall that he said the thought of anybody else's getting the money for the timber made him almost want to commit murder."
The forester looked sober. "He's a bad egg," he said. "I really believe he wouldn't hesitate to commit murder if he were cornered. You want to watch him. We'll have to be mighty careful how we handle this business."