CHAPTER IV
CONNIE TAMES A BEAR-CAT
As the cars came to rest upon the spur, plank runways were placed inposition and the horses led to the ground and tied to trees. All handspitched into the work of unloading. Wagons appeared and were set up asif by magic as, under the boss's direction, supplies and equipment werehustled from the cars.
"You come along with us," said Hurley, indicating a tote wagon intowhich men were loading supplies. "I'm takin' half a dozen of the boysout tonight to kind of git the camp in shape. It'll take four or fivedays to haul this stuff an' you can help along till the teams startcomin', an' then you've got to check the stuff in. Here's yourlists--supplies on that one, and equipment on this. Don't O. K. nothin'till it's in the storehouse or the cook's camp or wherever it goes to."
Connie took the papers and, throwing his turkey onto the load, climbedup and took his place beside the men. The teamster cracked his whip andthe four rangy horses started away at a brisk trot.
For five miles or so, as it followed the higher ground of a hardwoodridge, the road was fairly good, then it plunged directly into the pinesand after that there was no trotting. Mile after mile the horses ploddedon, the wheels sinking half-way to the hubs in the soft dry sand, or, inthe lower places, dropping to the axles into chuck holes and plowingthrough sticky mud that fell from the spokes and felloes in greatchunks. Creeks were forded, and swamps crossed on long stretches ofcorduroy that threatened momentarily to loosen every bolt in the wagon.As the team swung from the hardwood ridge, the men leaped to the groundand followed on foot. They were a cheerful lot, always ready to lend ahand in helping the horses up the hill, or in lifting a wheel from theclutch of some particularly bad chuck hole. Connie came in for a shareof good-natured banter, that took the form, for the most part, ofspeculation upon how long he would last "hoofing it on shank's mares,"and advice as to how to stick on the wagon when he should get tiredout. The boy answered all the chafing with a smiling good humour thatwon the regard of the rough lumberjacks as his tramping mile after milethrough the sand and mud without any apparent fatigue won their secretadmiration.
"He's a game un," whispered Saginaw Ed, as he tramped beside SwedeLarson, whose pale blue eyes rested upon the back of the sturdy littlefigure that plodded ahead of them.
"Yah, ay tank hay ban' valk befoor. Hay ain' drag hees foot lak he gon'for git tire out queek. Ay bat ju a tollar he mak de camp wit'out ride."
"You're on," grinned Saginaw, "an', at that, you got an even break. Ican't see he's wobblin' none yet, an' it's only nine or ten miles to go.I wished we had that wapple-jawed, cigarette-smokin' cookee along--I'dlike to see this un show him up."
"Hay show ham up a'rat--ju yoost vait."
Twilight deepened and the forest road became dim with black shadows.
"The moon'll be up directly," observed Hurley, who was walking besideConnie. "But it don't give none too much light, nohow, here in thewoods. I've got to go on ahead and pilot."
"I'll go with you," said the boy, and Hurley eyed him closely.
"Say, kid, don't let these here jay-hawkers talk ye inter walkin'yerself to death. They don't like nawthin' better'n to make a greenerlive hard. Let 'em yelp theirself hoarse an' when you git tuckered jestyou climb up beside Frenchy there an' take it easy. You got to git brokein kind of slow to start off with an' take good care of yer feet."
"Oh, I'm not tired. I like to walk," answered the boy, and grinned tohimself. "Wonder what he'd think if he knew about some of the trailsI've hit. I guess it would make his little old twenty-mile hike shrinksome."
As they advanced into the timber the road became worse, and Connie, whohad never handled horses, wondered at the dexterity with which Frenchyguided the four-horse tote-team among stumps and chuck holes, and steeppitches. Every little way it was necessary for Hurley to call a halt,while the men chopped a log, or a thick mat of tops from the road. Itwas nearly midnight when the team swung into a wide clearing soovergrown that hardly more than the roofs of the low log buildingsshowed above the tops of the brambles and tall horseweed stalks.
"All right, boys!" called the boss. "We won't bother to unload only whatwe need for supper. Don't start no fire in the big range tonight. Here,you, Saginaw, you play cook. You can boil a batch of tea and fry someham on the office stove--an' don't send no more sparks up the stovepipethan what you need to. If fire got started in these weeds we'd have twocamps to build instead of one; Swede, you help Frenchy with the horses,an' yous other fellows fill them lanterns an' git what you need unloadedan' cover the wagon with a tarp."
"What can I do?" asked Connie. Hurley eyed him with a laugh. "Goshsakes! Ain't you petered out yet? Well, go ahead and help Saginaw withthe supper--the can stuff and dishes is on the hind end of the load."
The following days were busy ones for Connie. Men and teams labouredover the road, hauling supplies and equipment from the railway, whileother men attacked the weed-choked clearing with brush-scythes andmattocks, and made necessary repairs about the camp. It was the boy'sduty to check all incoming material whether of supplies or equipment,and between the arrival of teams he found time to make himself useful inthe chinking of camp buildings and in numerous other ways.
"I'll show you about the books, now," said Hurley one evening as theysat in the office, or boss's camp, as the small building that stood offby itself was called. This room was provided with two rude pine deskswith split log stools. A large air-tight stove occupied the centre ofthe floor, and two double-tier bunks were built against the wall. Thewanagan chests were also ranged along the log wall into which pins hadbeen inserted for the hanging of snow-shoes, rifles, and clothing.
The boss took from his desk several books. "This one," he began, "is thewanagan book. If a wanagan book is kep' right ye never have notrouble--if it ain't ye never have nawthin' else. Some outfits gouge themen on the wanagan--I don't. I don't even add haulin' cost to theprice--they can git tobacker an' whatever they need jest as cheap hereas what they could in town. But they've be'n cheated so much withwanagans that they expect to be. The best way to keep 'em from growlin'is to name over the thing an' the price to 'em after they've bought it,even if it's only a dime's worth of tobacker. Then jest name off thetotal that's ag'in' 'em--ye can do that by settin' it down to one sidewith a pencil each time. That don't never give them a chanct to kick,an' they soon find it out. I don't run no 'dollar you got, dollar youdidn't get, an' dollar you ort to got' outfit. They earn what's comin'to 'em. Some augers they might as well gouge 'em 'cause they go an' blowit all in anyhow, soon as they get to town--but what's that any of mybusiness? It's theirn.
"This here book is the time book. Git yer pen, now, an' I'll call ye offthe names an' the wages an' you can set 'em down." When the task wascompleted the boss continued: "Ye know about the supply book, an' here'sthe log book--but ye won't need that fer a while yit. I've got to cruisearound tomorrow an' find a location fer the new camp. I want to git itlaid out as quick as I can so the men can git to cuttin' the roadthrough. Then they can git to work on the buildin's while I go back an'fill me out a crew.
"Wish't you'd slip over to the men's camp an' tell Saginaw I want to seehim. I'll make him straw boss while I am gone--the men like him, an' atthe same time they know he won't stand for no monkey business."
"What's a straw boss?" asked the boy.
"He's the boss that's boss when the boss ain't around," explainedHurley, as Connie put on his cap and proceeded to the men's camp, a longlog building from whose windows yellow lamplight shone. The moment heopened the door he was thankful indeed, that Hurley had invited him toshare the boss's camp. Although the night was not cold, a fire roared inthe huge box stove that occupied the centre of the long room. A finedrizzle had set in early in the afternoon, and the drying racks aboutthe stove were ladened with the rain-dampened garments of the men. Steamfrom these, mingled with the smoke from thirty-odd pipes and the reek ofdrying rubbers and socks, rendered the air of the bunk house thick withan odorous fog that nearly stifled Conn
ie as he stepped into thesuperheated interior.
Seated upon an upper bunk with his feet dangling over the edge, one ofthe men was playing vociferously upon a cheap harmonica, while otherssat about upon rude benches or the edges of bunks listening or talking.The boy made his way over the uneven floor, stained with dark splotchesof tobacco juice, toward the farther end of the room, where Saginaw Edwas helping Frenchy mend a piece of harness.
As he passed a bunk midway of the room, Steve rose to his feet andconfronted him. "Ha! Here's the greener kid--the boss's pet that's toogood to bunk in the men's camp! Whatchu doin' in here? Did Hurley sendyou after some strap oil?" As the two boys stood facing each other inthe middle of the big room the men saw that the cookee was the tallerand the heavier of the two. The harmonica stopped and the men glanced ingrinning expectation at the two figures. Steve's sneering laugh soundedstartingly loud in the sudden silence. "He made his brag he used to tamebear-cats over in Canady!" he said. "Well, I'm a bear-cat--come on an'tame me! I'm wild!" Reaching swiftly the boy jerked the cap fromConnie's head and hurled it across the room where it lodged in an upperbunk. Some of the men laughed, but there were others who did notlaugh--those who noted the slight paling of the smaller boy's face andthe stiffening of his muscles. With hardly a glance at Steve, Conniestepped around him and walked to where Saginaw Ed sat, an interestedspectator of the scene.
"The boss wants to see you in the office," he said, and turning on hisheel, retraced his steps. Steve stood in the middle of the floor wherehe had left him, the sneering smile still upon his lips.
"I believe he's goin' to cry," he taunted, and again some men laughed.
"What is it you say you are? I don't believe they all heard you." AgainConnie was facing him, and his voice was steady and very low.
"I'm a bear-cat!"
Connie stretched out his arm: "Give me my cap, please, I'm in a hurry."The boy seized the hand roughly, which was just what Connie expected,and the next instant his other hand closed about Steve's wrist and quickas a flash he whirled and bent sharply forward. There was a shrill yelpof pain as the older boy shot over Connie's lowered shoulder and struckwith a thud upon the uneven floor. The next instant Connie was astridethe prostrate form and with a hand at his elbow and another at hiswrist, slowly forced the boy's arm upward between his shoulder blades.
"O-o-o, O-w-w!" howled Steve. "Take him off! He's killin' me!" Roars oflaughter filled the room as the lumberjacks looked on with shouts ofencouragement and approval. The cookee continued to howl and beg.
"Once more, now," said Connie, easing up a bit on the arm. "Tell themwhat you are."
"Le' me up! Yer broke my arm!"
"Oh, no I didn't." Connie increased the pressure. "Come on, tell themwhat you told them a minute ago. Some of them look as if they don'tbelieve it."
"COME ON, TELL THEM WHAT YOU TOLD THEM A MINUTE AGO"]
"O-w-w, I'm a-a bear-cat--O-w-w!" whimpered the boy, with such ashame-faced expression that the men roared with delight.
Connie rose to his feet. "Climb up there and get my cap, and bring itdown and hand it to me," he ordered tersely. "And the next time you feelwild, just let me know."
For only an instant the boy looked into the blue-grey eyes that regardedhim steadily and then sullenly, without a word, he stepped onto thelower bunk, groped for a moment in the upper one and handed Connie hiscap. A moment later the boy, accompanied by Saginaw Ed, stepped out intothe night, but Saginaw saw what Connie did not--the look of craftymalevolence that flashed into Steve's eyes as they followed thedeparting pair.
"By jiminetty, kid, y're all right!" approved the man, as they walkedtoward the office. "That was as handy a piece of work as I ever seen,an' they ain't a man in camp'll fergit it. You're there! But keep yereye on that cookee--he's a bad egg. Them kind can't take a lickin' likea man. He'll lay fer to git even, if it takes him all winter--not somuch fer what you done to him as where you done it--with the men alllookin' on. They never will quit raggin' him with his bear-catstuff--an' he knows it."