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Updated: June 24, 2025
"I come to see you," he told Crane, "because it seemed like you got to feed your lumberjacks, and I want to git the contract for furnishin' and deliverin' the provisions." "We've sure got to feed 'em," said Crane. "But five hundred men eat a lot of grub. Can you swing it if we give you a chance at it?"
"There's the man I've picked," announced Tom, pointing to Spike. A dead silence greeted the announcement, a silence broken only by the heavy breathing of the lumberjacks, and the shrill voice of Joe Shafto back in the cook-house abusing Willy Horse. "What do you say, fellows?" urged Tom quietly. Something seeped slowly into the brain of those rough and ready two-fisted lumbermen.
Thorne, with a whimsical smile, held up his finger for silence. Through the thin screen of azalea bushes that fringed this open-air dining room Bob saw two men approaching down the forest. They were evidently unaware of observation. With considerable circumspection they drew near and disappeared within the little tool house. Bob recognized the two lumberjacks from his own camp.
"Ho, ho, ho!" exclaimed Hippy Wingate. "That's a horse of another color. Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce to you Chief Willy Horse, and believe me he is some horse to stand the punishment those lumberjacks gave him and still be able to talk horse sense." The Overlanders acknowledged the introduction laughingly, and shook hands with the Indian, at the same time giving him their names.
You'll be a man when I get through with you." Codes of combat are peculiar to localities. In the north woods, for instance, lumberjacks fight with fist and heel; in the Southwest, when a man is mad enough to fight at all, he is usually mad enough to kill. As Buddy Briskow rose to his knees he groped for the nearest weapon, the nearest missile, something anything with which to slay.
You Big Friend big medicine. You help Willy Horse. Willy not forget. Mebby kill lumberjacks one day, too." "Don't get naughty. They hang naughty Indians," reminded Hippy. "Oh, Mister Pony I mean Mister Horse won't you sit down and have a snack with us?" invited Emma Dean. "Of course he must," insisted Tom, pausing at his work of starting a cook fire. The Indian shook his head.
"I fear our guide has prejudiced you against lumberjacks, and I know that she has taught Henry to hate the whole tribe. One shouldn't look for drawing-room manners in a lumberjack. We have a loyal gang of men, men who will fight for us, if necessary, and who certainly can work. That, it appears to me, is the answer." "Very well. I shall keep my eye on him, just the same. Hark!
In the reflected light of the moon, they saw a white crest sweeping around a bend in the river, hurling logs into the air, which came tumbling and shooting ahead like huge black projectiles. A warning scream from the girls was unheard by either of the struggling men. A dozen lumberjacks leaped to the cap-log to go to the assistance of Tom and Hippy, who they knew were in great peril. "Come back!
The lumberjacks were ugly, and, had they had their way, they would have promptly finished the job begun by Willy Horse, believing, as they did, that Peg Tatem was responsible for the present and previous disasters that had befallen the Overland Riders in the Big North Woods. Peg Tatem regained consciousness after Elfreda and Tom had worked over him for more than an hour.
If he can't handle them we've got a right to put on our own crew and drive them down and charge back to him what it costs us. Get the idea?" "Not exactly." "We deliver the logs as specified in the spring. Let him start his drive. Then, I figure, he'll have some trouble with his men, and most likely men he don't have trouble with will get into a row with lumberjacks going out of camp. See?
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