“All right,” was the reply. “And I’ll show you, Sam, that I, too, know something of the lumber-camps. Listen to a gentle—
‘IDYL OF LOST CAMP.’
“In the lumber-camps they still talk about the great midwinter thaw that wrought such havoc ten years back. It came on without warning about the last week in February. There had been heavy snowfalls in the early part of the winter, and all through that district the snows were deep and soft. Before the thaw came to an end these great snow masses were dwindled to almost nothing, and the ice had gone out of the rivers in a series of tremendous floods.
“For the lumber thieves the thaw was a magnificent opportunity, of which they made haste to avail themselves. Having no stumpage dues to pay, they could afford a little extra outlay for the difficult hauling. They were comparatively secure from interruption, and the opening of the streams gave them an opportunity of quickly getting their spoils out of the way.
“One of the most important camps of the district at that time was that of the Ryckert Company, on the Little St. Francis. On a Saturday morning, the fourth day of the thaw, word was brought into camp that the thieves were having a delightful time over on Lake Pecktaweekaagomic, on the Company’s timber limits. Steve Doyle, the boss of the camp, immediately called for volunteers to attempt the capture of the marauders. Every man at once came forward, with the exception of the cook; and the boss, in order to excite no jealousies, made his selection by lot. In half an hour the squad was ready to set out.
“‘Be you agoin’ along, sir?’ inquired one of the hands.
“‘Why, of course!’ exclaimed Doyle. ‘McCann will be in charge here while we’re gone. There’s such a thing possible as a brush with them fellows, though I don’t anticipate no trouble with ’em. I reckon they’re relyin’ on the thaw to keep ’em from bein’ interrupted.’
“‘I thought,’ responded the man who had just spoken, ‘as how the “little feller” might come out to camp to-day, along of Mart, an’ you mightn’t want to miss him. He ain’t been here fur more’n a month, now, an’ we’re all kind of expectin’ him to-day. You kin depend on us to make a good job of it, ef so be’s you’d like to stay by the camp. The hands all knows you too well to think you stay home on account of bein’ skeered, anyways!’
“At this there was a general laugh; for Doyle’s reckless courage was famous in all the camps.
“‘No,’ said the boss, after a thoughtful pause; ‘it’s my place to go, and not to stay. Anyways, I’m not lookin’ for Arty to-day. His grandmother ain’t goin’ to let him come when the road’s so bad. No!’ he continued with renewed emphasis, ‘this ain’t no time for Arty in the woods.’