Why in hell don't they keep their men in charge?"
"You're working for the company, and you ought to do your best for
them," said Bob.
But Larsen had abruptly fallen into Scandinavian sulks. He muttered
something under his breath, and quite deliberately arose and walked
around to the other side of the fire.
Twice during the night Bob arose from his blankets and walked down to
the riverside. In the clear moonlight he could see one or the other of
the millmen always on watch, his shotgun across his knees. Evidently
they did not intend to be surprised by any night work. The young fellow
returned very thoughtful to his blankets, where he lay staring up
against the canvas of the tent.
Next morning he was up early, and in close consultation with Billy the
teamster. The latter listened attentively to what Bob had to say,
nodding his head from time to time. Then the two disappeared in the
direction of the wagon, where for a long interval they busied themselves
at some mysterious operation.
When they finally emerged from the bushes, Bob was carrying over his
shoulder a ten-foot poplar sapling around the end of which was fastened
a cylindrical bundle of considerable size.
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