“Do you fellows live in the woods all year?” Sandy asked the driver.
“Most of us single men do,” the driver told him. “It saves board money living in the company barracks and eating three squares in the mess hall. A few of the married boys live in town. We got a couple of little towns within a comfortable distance. Some weekends we go in and stay at a rooming house.”
“Don’t you ever get to the big city?” Jerry asked wonderingly.
“Maybe once a year, we go to Duluth.” He began to laugh uproariously. “It usually takes us another year to get over a spree like that.”
Back at camp, Russ Steele spoke earnestly with Jonas Driscoll off to one side. Then he went into the office alone and closed the door behind him. The foreman walked over to where the boys were throwing sticks for the two dogs to fetch and told Sandy that his uncle was making an important phone call.
“He’ll be a while,” he said. “Why don’t you boys come down to my shack and wash up before supper?”
Sandy looked meaningfully at Jerry and Quiz. “You guys go ahead with Jonas. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
As soon as they were out of sight, Sandy went over and sat down on the steps of the office. Prince and Bruce camped at his feet, wagging their tails and pleading with their eyes for more play. Finally Sandy gave in and lobbed a few more sticks for them. After about ten minutes, Russ Steele came out of the office. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost stumbled over his nephew.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t see you.”
Sandy nodded sympathetically. “Still no news?”