CHAPTER XXIII
"Here we are back in Detroit, Owen, and just about as far as we were when we first came."
"Excepting that we have had two disagreeable experiences," replied Owen.
"Two?"
"Yes; first my uncle, and then the storm—and I don't know but that the experience at the camp was the worst," added Owen, a little regardless of his grammar.
"Oh, well, let us forget that, Owen. I believe in looking ahead, not behind."
"I shouldn't like to run into another man like Uncle Jack Hoover."
"Nor I. And I doubt if there are many such men around."
The young lumbermen had put up at a cheap but good hotel. Their ready money was running low, but they did not feel like touching the amount they had put in the bank.
"We must find something before the week is out," continued Owen, after a pause. "Do you think it would do any good to write to Mr. Wilbur?"
"I've been thinking of him. Didn't somebody say he had an interest in a Michigan lumber concern?"
"Mr. Paxton said he held shares in the Lakeside Consolidated Lumber Company. A good many other folks own shares in that concern, too."
"We might hunt up that company. On the strength of Mr. Wilbur's name they might give us a job."
"That's so! Why didn't we think of that before!" cried Owen. "Let us call at the offices without delay."
It was an easy matter to locate the concern mentioned. The offices were in a new stone building near the water front. There was something of a corridor, with several places that were railed off. Near one of the railings was a settee, and an office boy told them to be seated until somebody had time to wait on them. A dozen clerks and officers were present, and the air was filled with the hum of voices and the click-clicking of typewriters.
"They must do some business here," whispered Dale. "I heard one man speak of a consignment of a quarter of a million feet of lumber."
Not far from where they sat was a corner office. Here at a roller-top desk was a middle-aged man, thin and pale of countenance. He was talking to a visitor, a rough, bearded individual, evidently from the Far West.
"I'll see Balasco about that deal," the visitor was saying. "And if he agrees we'll be in good shape to go ahead."
"That's true, Hildan," was the hesitating reply. "But I—er—I question the—er——"
"Oh, it's all right, Mr. Force. The deal is as straight as a string."
"It doesn't look so to me."
"But it is, take my word on it. That contract will come this way, and when it does I, of course, will get my commission."
"Certainly, you'll get your commission."
"Then that settles it and I won't take any more of your time. If you see Wilbur tell him——"
At that moment the bearded man glanced toward the doorway and stopped short. Another person had come in, and, looking in the direction, Dale and Owen saw that it was Jefferson Wilbur himself who had entered.
They were on the point of greeting their friend, when the bearded man rushed forward and caught Mr. Wilbur by the hand and shook it earnestly. He pretended to be greatly pleased at the meeting, but the same could not be said of the one whom he met, who took his hand coldly. Then followed an earnest talk for several minutes, and the bearded man showed several documents he carried in his pocket.
"Well, I'll think it over, Mr. Hildan," said Mr. Wilbur at last, and the two separated, and Hildan left the offices quietly and swiftly.
"That fellow is a sharper, and I know it," whispered Owen to Dale. "And I guess Mr. Wilbur knows it, too, for he didn't seem to care to have much to do with him."
Jefferson Wilbur now saw the two young lumbermen, and came toward them.
"Were you looking for me?" he asked, as he shook hands.
"Hardly that, but we are glad to see you," answered Owen, and then told how they chanced to be there.
"That job didn't pan out, eh?" said the lumber merchant. "I am sorry to hear it—for your sakes. But I think I can locate you at something better."
"At one of the camps of this company?"
"Hardly here, for, you see, I have just sold out my shares in this concern. I am here to wind the matter up. In the future my business interests will be centered in New York City and in Oregon. As you perhaps know, we are organizing the Wilbur-Balasco Lumber Company of Oregon, with camps at different places. Mr. Ulmer Balasco is in charge out there, while I am looking up our interests in the East."
"Do you want hands in Oregon?" asked Dale, with deep interest.
"I think we do—unless Balasco has already secured them. But if you want to try your luck out there, say the word, and I will get you railroad tickets, and I'll give you a letter to Balasco, telling him to find an opening for you if he possibly can. You see, according to our contract, he is to run the camps to suit himself, and hire all his own help, but I fancy my letter to him will secure to you what you want."
"You are certainly kind," came from Owen.
"Not at all. I owe you both something for what you did for me and my family, and I want to do what I can for you. Of course, if you don't care to go to Oregon——"
"To tell the truth, I do care very much," burst in Dale. "And I have a special reason for it, too," he went on. "I was going to mention it to you when you were in Bangor, but you went away before we could call on you a second time."
"Yes, I remember; I got a telegram about important business in New York and here. But why do you wish particularly to go to Oregon?"
"I want to look up an old mining claim in which my father was once interested. He bought the mine, but it didn't pay, and was abandoned. I've been wondering if the ground couldn't be of some value."
"It might be, Bradford, although I wouldn't bank on it if I were you. I know of a number of places where mines were opened, and the land is rocky and barren to the last degree, not even fit for grazing purposes."
"Oh, I'm not over-hopeful," said Dale. "But still I should like to know the exact truth."
"I can't blame you for that. Where is the land located?"
"I can't describe it to you off-hand. I have the papers in my trunk. I'll let you see them if you wish."
"I'll take a look at them when I have time. You see, I came to Detroit on the run. I am due in Chicago inside of twenty-four hours from now."
"Supposing I sent you the papers, or a copy of them, by mail?"
"That is a good plan. I'll give you my permanent address. But now about going to Oregon. Will both of you accept my offer?"
"I will, with thanks," came from Owen. "And some day I'll pay you back for the railroad ticket, Mr. Wilbur."
"And so will I," added Dale.
"No, no; you have already done enough," cried the lumber merchant. "Can you wait about an hour? Then I'll go down to the ticket office with you."
"Certainly, we can wait," answered Dale.
They sat down again, and Jefferson Wilbur disappeared. The time passed slowly, but at last he came to them again, and all hurried out on the street. A car was passing and they stepped aboard this and soon reached the railroad ticket office Jefferson Wilbur had in mind.
A number of schedules were looked over, and presently the two young lumbermen decided on what route they would take, and Mr. Wilbur purchased the necessary tickets. Then, despite their protestations, he insisted on their accepting fifty dollars apiece for incidental expenses.
"You may need the money," he said. "For on such a journey there is no telling what will happen. When you get settled be sure and write to me."
"We'll certainly do that, and we thank you very much," said Dale, and Owen said the same. A few other words followed, and then the lumber merchant leaped on a train bound for Chicago, and waved them good-by.
"My, but he's a hustler!" said Owen. "We never meet him but that he is on the jump."
"He's a type of the successful business man of to-day," answered Dale. "Well, I shouldn't mind hustling myself if I saw such big money ahead as he makes."
Their train was not to leave for two hours, so they had ample time in which to make a few necessary purchases and get their trunks and valises to the depot. Each was tremendously excited over the prospect ahead, but tried to put on a calm appearance. It was certainly something to travel across the continent, through many States which they had never before visited.
"How some of the fellows at Oldtown and Bangor would stare if we told them we were bound for Oregon," said Dale.
"You're right. To come to Michigan was quite a trip, but this other will be more than twice as long."
It had been decided that they were to take a regular train to Chicago, and at that point change to one of the overland expresses, that stopped only at Omaha, Denver, and a few other points.
The train was fairly well filled, but they managed to get a seat together, and gazed out of the window with interest as they rushed westward, over the fertile fields of lower Michigan and upper Indiana. There was not much of novelty in the outlook, outside of the long, level stretches, to which their New England eyes were, as yet, unaccustomed.
"No wonder they can farm by machinery out here," said Owen. "They'd have a tough time of it using such a big reaper as that among the rocky hills where I was brought up."
The run to Chicago did not take long. Here a quick change, lasting less than ten minutes, was made, and soon the express was roaring along, past mile after mile of buildings, away from the outskirts of the metropolis of the Lakes, and straight for the broad prairies beyond. The two young young lumbermen leaned back in their seats and gazed at each other in silent satisfaction.
There was no turning back now. The long journey to Oregon was begun.