  “’Tis this way,” the foreman began, as he shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “Yer father has a contract to deliver four million fate of spruce to The Great Northern Star Company in Waterville, on or before the twentieth of nixt May. We got a good crew here an’ kin do the job all right if things go well; but ’tis a man’s size job let me tell ye and if the logs ain’t thar on the dot the contract’s busted.” “But that’s not what’s worrying you,” Bob declared as Tom paused. “Come out with it. Where’s the fly in the ointment?” “Sure an’ it’s no fly at all at all: it’s a ghost, that’s what it is,” and Bob’s laugh died on his lips as he noted the serious look on the foreman’s face. “What do you mean, ghost?” Jack broke in as Tom paused. “There ain’t no such animal,” he laughed. “Mebbe not: I dunno, but I saw it meself.” “When was it you saw it?” Bob asked. “Jest last night right on the edge of the woods out thar.” “Did anyone else see it?” “Only old Ike, and I bribed him to kape it to hisself. Of course I spect it’s a trick of Big Ben to scare our men away. He knows how super—super, hang it all, what’s thot word?” “You mean superstitious,” Bob supplied. “Thot’s it, and if the men git a notion this camp’s haunted, it’s likely they’ll all up and git.” “But why should Big Ben want to scare off our men?” Jack asked. “Hasn’t he got enough of his own?” “’Tis not thot at all at all, but he bid against yer father on thot contract an’ lost out so I spect he wants him ter lose it. Sure an’ ’tis jest like him.” “What time was it when this ghost made its appearance?” Bob asked. “Sure an’ ’twas jest after supper, but, thank goodness, only me and Ike had come out of the mess house. I made a dash fer it, but the blamed thing jest up and vanished afore I got half way to it.” “What did it look like?” “Sure an’ it looked ter be about eight fate tall an’ was all white an’ fire streaming from its two eyes. It sure was a sight all right all right, so it was.” “But it didn’t come tonight did it?” Jack asked. “Not yet, an’ I been kaping me eyes on the winder thar. Yer can see the place where it was from here. We’ll kape an eye open an’ watch fer a bit and mebby we’ll see it.” But, although they watched until after nine o’clock, the ghost did not put in an appearance. “Sure an’ it’s of no use to watch iny longer,” Tom said, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe. “Unless it’s a rale ghost he knows as how all the byes are in bed by this time.” Neither of the boys slept much that night. It was not worry that kept them awake, however. It was a far more tangible cause. In short it was snoring on the part of many of the crew. The snoring varied in tone, as Jack declared the next morning, “all the way from low A to high C.” But as they had had the same experience a number of times before, they knew that they would soon get used to it. Jean Larue had not been at supper the night of the fight, but he was on hand for breakfast the next morning, apparently none the worse for his beating. He had, however, a decidedly downcast look, as though he realized, as no doubt he did, that the day of his authority over his mates was past. “If looks could kill, you’d be a dead man,” Jack whispered to Bob as they took their seats at the long table. “That Larue is certainly looking daggers at you.” “Just so he doesn’t do anything except look I should worry,” Bob grinned, as he helped himself to a couple of shredded wheat biscuits. The camp was situated about a hundred rods from the lake and, at the time, they were felling the spruce some two hundred rods north of the camp. It was a sight which they never tired of, watching to see the mighty monarchs of the woods yield little by little at first to the axe and saw, and then, with a terrific crash, fall to earth. Then would come the trimming off of the branches and sawing into the proper length, after which the logs would be rolled onto the low but exceedingly strong sleds and drawn by a span of horses to the lake. There they were piled on the shore as closely as possible to the water and were ready to be towed across the lake by steamers to the Kennebec River as soon as the ice broke up in the spring. Formerly axes were used exclusively in felling the trees, but lately large cross cut saws have to a large extent superseded them. At the Golden camp the men were allowed to use either as they desired. As Jean Larue was passing the office that morning on his way to the cuttings, Tom Bean called him in, and after he had closed the door, said not unkindly: “Jean, that boy licked you last night in a fair fight as ye well know, and mind now, I don’t want to be after hearing of him gettin’ hurted by accident, so to speak, cause if I do it’s meself thot’ll make ye prove yer innocence. Mind now.” Jean stood in sulky silence while the boss was speaking, and as he finished turned on his heel and left the room. “Sure an’ it’s him thot’s the ugly brute,” the foreman muttered, shaking his head. The boys spent the day with the men getting acquainted, and by night they were calling a good part of them by their first names and they were Bob and Jack to them all. It had not been an idle day for them by any means, as they had worked nearly as hard as any of the men, although they had not exerted themselves for fear of lamed muscles. “We’ve just got to lay that ghost if he shows up again,” Bob declared, as they were trudging back in the rapidly falling dusk. “He’s apt to stampede the whole works if the men once get a look at him. Of course it’s a put up job of Big Ben’s but we’ve got to catch him with the goods in order to prove anything.” That night Tom Bean and the two boys again watched the window of the office but when nine o’clock came no ghost had appeared. “I guess either he’s a periodic ghost and we haven’t got on to his periods or else he got discouraged after his first appearance,” Bob declared as he stifled a yawn. “I don’t think a ten-inch gun would keep me awake tonight let alone a few snores,” Jack declared as they were walking slowly back to the bunk house. Jack’s guess went for both of them, for they fell asleep almost as soon as they struck their beds and neither woke until the cook blew the rising horn at six o’clock. After breakfast was over and most of the men had left the mess room, Tom motioned to the boys to follow him to the office. “I’m goin’ ter take a look through thot tract and I thought mebby ye’d keer to go along,” he said, as soon as he had closed the door. “We sure would,” both boys eagerly accepted the invitation. “All right thin: we’ll wait a bit till the men have gone to their work. I don’t want them to know thot there’s inything in the air. Nothin’ hinders the work so much as to have them fellers git an idea into their heads thot something’s goin’ ter happen.” It was nearly eight o’clock before Tom announced that it was time to start. It was a bitter cold morning. “Twenty-eight below,” Jack declared as he looked at the thermometer hanging just outside the office door. “Jest wait till it gits down to forty an thin ye kin say as how it’s cold round the edges,” and the boys laughed as Tom stood before them fanning himself vigorously with his cap. “It’s a wonder you don’t take off your mackinaw and go in your shirt sleeves, Tom,” Jack laughed as he stooped to fasten the thongs of his snow-shoes. The dry snow creaked as they started off. The snow in the woods was about two feet deep and as it was light their snow-shoes sank several inches making what Tom called, “heavy goin’.” “It was right here thot I saw thot critter the ither night,” he announced as he paused on the edge of the clearing. “Did you look for tracks?” Bob asked. “Sure an’ thot would have bin of no use. Yer see there’s a spring about a hundred fate in the woods an the byes go thar fer water so the snow was all tracked up here,” Tom explained as they started on again. Two or three inches of light snow had fallen during the early part of the night so that no tracks were visible as they pushed their way through the dense forest. “Thot tract starts right here,” Tom announced a few minutes later as he stepped and pointed to a big spruce, in the trunk of which a deep gash had been cut. “Thot cut marks the northwest boundry. ‘Ain’t it a crame of a patch?’” The boys readily agreed with him as they gazed in rapt admiration at the mighty spruces which, growing closely together, reached up, straight as an arrow, to a lofty height. “It’s the finest bit of spruce I iver saw an thot’s sayin’ sumpin’. An’ there’s four hundred acres of it jest like thot,” he added as he again led the way. “How far from the tract is Ben’s camp?” Bob asked as they trudged along. “Not morn fifty rods, but he’s cuttin’ on the ither side of his camp. He’s got some mighty good timber thar too, but it’s not like this,” Tom replied. They made nearly a complete circuit of the four hundred acre tract but found no evidence of any cutting nor did they meet anyone. They got back to camp just in time for dinner, with, as Jack declared, “some appetite.” The afternoon was spent with the crew and when quitting time came they both were, as Bob declared, “dead tired.” They had nearly finished supper, when, suddenly the door of the mess house burst open and a Frenchman by the name of Devaux, stumbled into the room. His face was bloodless and he was shaking so that he could hardly stand. “Der devil, I see him!” he gasped hoarsely, as he leaned for support against one of the bunks. Several of the men sprang to their feet and crowded around him, all of them asking him questions at the same time. Bob threw a quick glance at Tom and he answered with a slow shake of the head. “Out der by der woods,” they heard the frightened man reply to the questions which were being hurled at him, and the men made a rush for the door. Tom and the boys followed as quickly as possible, and as soon as they were outside, looked eagerly toward the place which Tom had pointed out to them that morning. But nothing unusual greeted their eyes. There was no ghost visible. “That Devaux, he drink too much der hooch,” Bob heard one of the men say as they trooped back into the building. They found Devaux somewhat recovered but the man was still trembling. Tom went up to him and took hold of his arm. “Looky here, son, you been boozing.” It was an accusation and not a question, and the Frenchman immediately straightened up. “That one beeg lie,” he said firmly. That settled the matter in Tom’s mind in so far as the drinking was concerned. No man in the outfit would dare to call Tom Bean a liar unless he had a mighty good reason for it, and Tom was well aware of the fact. “You smell breath, you no believe,” the man insisted. “No, Devaux, yer word’s all I want. If ye say as how ye ain’t touched any hooch, sure an’ thot settles it, but,” and he drew him to one side so that no one should hear, “take me advice an’ kape it ter yerself about what yer thought yer sawed,” and as Devaux nodded his head in silent assent, he left the room, motioning for the boys to follow him. “He saw it all right,” Tom declared, as soon as they were by themselves in the office. “But the byes won’t take much stock in it I gess, seeing as how Devaux is a kind of a joke with ’em, but, byes, we got ter git busy an’ put a stop ter thot thing or there’ll be the dickins ter pay.” “Let’s go see if we can find any tracks,” Jack proposed. “Sure an’ we’ll do thot same, but we’d best wait till after the men are aslape. ’Twon’t do ter let ’em know thot we’re taking iny stock in what the lad said.” The boys were quick to see the wisdom of his statement and so they waited until ten o’clock, Jack deeply immersed in a book and the other two playing checkers, a game of which they were both very fond. “I gess ’tis safe enough now,” Tom declared, as the clock on the wall struck the hour. There was no moon, but the night was clear and the stars, aided by the whiteness of the snow, gave enough light for them to see some distance ahead as they made their way to the place where Tom had seen the “ghost” three nights before. Somewhat to their surprise they found the snow unbroken save for the tracks which they themselves had made that morning. “’Tis mighty strange, so it is.” Tom Bean rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stood facing the two boys. “Do yer spose there might be sich a thing after all?” he asked slowly. “Tom, you surprise me,” Bob replied. “Of course there isn’t.” “Well, I dunno, but will yez tell me how inything made of flesh an’ blood could git here an’ lave no tracks at all at all?” “That’s what we’ve got to find out, and I have an idea. Come back to the office and I’ll tell you what it is.” And Bob started to lead the way back. “It’s like this,” he began, as soon as they were once more seated in front of the hot stove. “I’m going to try and get a picture of that thing, whatever it is. You can’t photograph a ghost you know,” turning with a smile to Tom, “and if I can do it it’ll settle that part of it anyway.” “I get you,” Jack spoke up. “And right now’s the time to fix it up. You see, the show’s over for the night and there’ll be no one hanging around, so let’s get busy.” Among the other things which they had brought with them was a good camera and a supply of flashlight cartridges. The latter for taking pictures of animals at night. Tom seemed rather skeptical but offered no objection as they set about putting their plan into execution. It took them until nearly half past eleven o’clock before they had things arranged to their liking, but when that time came the camera was hidden in a nearby tree in such a way that, although not likely to be discovered, the lens had a good view of the space where the “ghost” was scheduled to appear. Wires hidden beneath the snow ran to the office and were so arranged that, when connection was made, the current from six dry cells would set off the flash powder and at the same time open the lens. “There now, I’m going to watch here every night till something happens,” Bob declared, as he finished connecting up the cells. It was nearly twelve o’clock when they turned in but in spite of the lateness of the hour it was long before Bob slept. He well knew how much depended on the success of his plan. If anything should happen to cause a stampede among the men it would mean the loss of the contract as it would be practically impossible to get others to take their places this late in the season. As he lay thinking the matter over, he suddenly raised himself on one elbow and listened. |
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