CHAPTER XX
The road was dark as well as rough, and as the lumber wagon bumped along over the stones and tree roots, neither Dale nor Owen had much to say. Each was busy with his thoughts, wondering how they would be received by John Hoover and his wife, and what would be the outcome of this venture into the Michigan lumber district.
"We're 'bout half there now," said Sandy Hopgood, after a long and steady pull over hills and through hollows. "But the wust part of the road is to come." And so it proved. The wagon jounced along as if ready to fall to pieces at any moment, and more than once Dale and Owen, who had both noticed the shabby harness, imagined that straps and buckles would fly in all directions. But, old and worn as it was, the turnout held together, and at last they caught sight of a light ahead, and the driver announced that they would soon be at their destination.
The Hoover camp consisted of half a dozen buildings, built on either side of a muddy roadway leading to a creek that flowed into the Saginaw River. Beyond the cabins were two stables and a tool shed. Down close to the river was a sawmill, also belonging to John Hoover. All the buildings were old and dilapidated, but the owner of the camp did not believe in spending money to fix them up.
As the wagon came up to the cabins, the door of one of the buildings was thrown open, and a man came out, lantern in hand.
"Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.
"Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.
"Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.
"Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.
"Yes, Uncle Jack, I'm here!" sang out Owen, as cheerily as he could. And leaping down, he stepped forward and grasped his relative by the hand.
"Been a long time getting here," grumbled John Hoover, to the driver. "I could have made the distance in an hour less."
"We had to stop a while in town," replied Sandy Hopgood, but he did not mention the reason.
"Are you glad to see me, Uncle Jack?" demanded Owen.
"Why, I guess so, Owen. Depends on how you are going to go to work, now you are here. I must say you look tall and strong." John Hoover held up the lantern toward Dale. "Is this the other chap?"
"Yes, this is Dale Bradford. Dale, this is Mr. Hoover."
"Don't stand out there, John Hoover!" came in a shrill feminine voice from the kitchen of the cabin. "Bring 'em in here right away. I've waited as long as I'm a-going to wait with this supper." And then Mrs. Hoover, a short, fat woman, appeared, her sleeves rolled up, and her hands resting on her hips.
"Thank you, but we've had supper, Aunt Maria," answered Owen, in a voice that was a trifle cold.
"Had supper? Where did you get it?"
"We stopped at the general store down by the depot. We were hungry, and didn't want to wait until we got here."
"My! my! how extravagant—and me waiting with supper all the time. Well, if you don't want anything, I'll put the things away, and save 'em." And without further ceremony the woman bustled about to clear the table.
It had been arranged by John Hoover that Owen and Dale should occupy a small corner room of the house. All the other hands, including Sandy, lived in the other cabins, and had their meals there. But Owen was to consider himself a member of the Hoover household, and his chum was to do likewise.
"I didn't guess you'd want to be parted," said John Hoover. "And the room is plenty big enough for two."
"Yes, we prefer to remain together," answered Owen.
The reception had been a chilling one, and the chill did not wear away when the pair were seated in the plainly furnished living room. The owner of the camp asked both a great number of questions about what they had done in Maine, and seemed very anxious to find out if each could really do a full man's work.
"I aint paying no shirkers in my camp," said John Hoover. "Every man who gets a full day's pay must work for it."
"You'd better let 'em go to bed now, John," said his wife. "They've traveled so much that if you don't they won't be worth a cent for work to-morrow—and I suppose you're going to start 'em right off, aint you?"
"To be sure," answered the husband. "I aint wasting a whole day for nothing."
The bedroom turned over to the young lumbermen was furnished with nothing but a wide bunk, and a long, rough bench. On one wall hung a swinging shelf made of a rough board three feet long. There was nothing on the floor, and the mattress in the bunk was old and smelt musty. For a light they were given about an inch of a tallow candle stuck on top of a tin candlestick.
"This beats the hotels, doesn't it?" remarked Owen sarcastically. "Dale, I hope you don't remain awake to-night thinking of your elegant surroundings."
"Well, I suppose it might be worse—if somebody tried real hard to make it so," responded Dale dryly.
"They'd have to try mighty hard, I can tell you that. Do you know how long this will suit me?"
"About ten years."
"About ten hours."
"Why, you act as if you were disappointed."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed at all; I'm simply brimming over with joy; the place is so good I don't think I can stand it. If I stay too long I'll get lazy doing nothing, and living on the fat of the land."
After this both burst into a low, merry laugh. Each felt the disappointment keenly, but both were resolved to make the best of it, and to make a new move at the first opportunity.
John Hoover and his wife, retiring in an adjacent room, heard the laugh and listened with much satisfaction.
"They must like the place," said the master of the camp. "I'm glad on it. I was afraid they'd be stuck up, after being in Bangor, Boston, and other big towns."
"Oh, they know a good thing when they see it," answered his wife. "Perhaps they didn't have no mattress in them other camps, and no light to go to bed by. By and by I'm a-goin' to save on them candles. Wade raised a cent a pound on the cost of 'em."
"Yes, we can't afford to spend extra money on 'em, even if one of 'em is my nephew," responded John Hoover.
The young lumbermen were worn out with their journey, and soon fell asleep. At five o'clock the master of the camp pounded on their door and aroused them.
"Come, get up!" he called. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. You'll find a wash basin and towel outside of the kitchen door."
They dressed and came out, to find Mrs. Hoover hard at work in the kitchen, preparing a morning meal of salt mackerel, bread and butter, and coffee. They washed up outside as directed, and then sat down.
Now Dale and Owen had had many poor meals at one place and another, but nothing which was worse than this. The fish was old and tough, the bread stale, the butter strong, and the coffee of the rank sort, worth twelve or fourteen cents a pound. As a dainty, there were several slices of gingerbread, but they looked so old and dried-up that neither of the young lumbermen cared to touch them.
"You don't seem to be hungry," remarked Mrs. Hoover, as she watched them dallying with the food.
"Not as hungry as I might be," answered Dale.
"You want to eat up. It makes a boy good and strong, and fit for a proper day's work."
The breakfast was soon over, and then John Hoover said he would take them out, introduce them to some of the men, and show them what they were to do. Unobserved, they slipped into their room, and put some crackers in their pockets, with some chipped beef in a paper, to eat when they got the chance, for the breakfast furnished by Mrs. Hoover had by no means satisfied them.
Inside of an hour they were hard at work, Owen as foreman of a gang of twelve men, including Dale. They learned that the gang had originally consisted of twenty hands, but eight men had left, to seek employment elsewhere.
"And I am going next Saturday," said the man who gave out this information. "My time's up, and I don't want any more of this camp."
The men worked hard, and Owen soon learned that he was expected to not only direct them, but do as much cutting as anybody. From time to time John Hoover appeared, going from one gang of the camp to another, and urging everybody to "work up there," and finding great fault if the trees did not come down, or were not moved, as speedily as he expected. And when one of the hands hurt his foot, he would not allow the fellow to knock off and have the hurt attended to, but told him to wait until the sawmill whistle blew for the noon meal.
"That's your time," he said. "This time is mine, and I want you to work."
"That was hard-hearted," said Dale, when he and Owen were alone.
"You are right," answered Owen. "He's the meanest man I ever met, and I'm sorry he is an uncle of mine."
By the time night came the young lumbermen were more than ready to quit. John Hoover had proved a regular slave driver, and neither wondered that his men were deserting him before the season was at an end.
"About two months of this would use me up," said Dale. "I never felt so tired from a single day's work in my life."
"It's his continual nagging that does it, Dale. If he wouldn't be at the men all the time they might do every bit as much, and feel a good deal better over it. As it is they are surly, and they won't do a hand's turn more than they have to." And Owen was right.
The next day it rained, but they went out as before, John Hoover declaring that men could cut and move timber just as well in the wet as when the sun shone. One man, who had a heavy cold, demurred, and a regular quarrel ensued, first concerning the work and then about wages. At last the man packed his box and went off, declaring that he would sue the camp owner if he did not get the wages that were coming to him.
The rainy weather made Mrs. Hoover irritable, and she scolded, not only her husband, but also the young lumbermen, for tracking the mud into the living room.
"I've got enough work to do without clearing up such dirt!" she snapped to her nephew. "If you bring any more in you'll not get a mouthful to eat."
"I guess I'll get what's coming to me, Aunt Maria," said Owen, whose temper had reached the danger point.
"No, you shan't have a thing."
"Then I'll go down to one of the other cabins and live."
"And I'll go with Owen," put in Dale. "I'm tired of this place, anyway."
At this both John Hoover and his wife stared at the two young lumbermen in amazement.
"Do you mean to say you aint satisfied here?" gasped the master of the camp.
"No, I am not, Uncle Jack," said Owen bravely. "And we might as well come to an understanding at once. I'm going to look around for another job, and as soon as I can find it I'm going to leave your employ."