CHAPTER I.
A LETTER FROM THE WEST.
"It is not a question of what we should like to do, Randy; it is aquestion of what we must do."
"I know it, Earl. One thing is certain: the way matters stand we can'tpay the quarter's rent for this timber land to-morrow unless we borrowthe money, and where we are going for it I haven't the least idea."
"Nor I. It's a pity the Jackson Lumber Company had to go to pieces. Iwonder where Jackson is."
"In Canada most likely. They would put him in jail if they could catchhim, and he knows it."
"He ought to be put in jail!" burst out Earl, who was the elder of thetwo Portney brothers. "That two hundred dollars he cheated us out ofwould just put us on our feet. But without it we can't even pay billsnow owing; and Caleb Norcross is just aching to sell this land to DanRoland."
"If we have to get out, what are we to do?" questioned Randy, soberly."I don't believe we can get work, unless we go into the woods as mere choppers."
"We shall have to do something," was Earl's unsatisfactory response.
The Portney brothers lived upon a small timber claim in the state ofMaine. Their parents had died three years before, from injuries receivedin a terrible forest fire, which had at that time swept the locality.The family had never been rich, and after the sad affair the boys wereleft to shift for themselves. The father had owned an interest in atimber claim, and this had been sold for three hundred dollars, and withthe proceeds the two brothers had rented another claim and gone to workto get out lumber for a new company which had begun operations in thevicinity.
Earl was now eighteen years of age, and Randolph, or Randy, as he wasalways called, was nearly seventeen. Both lads were so tall, well-built,and muscular, that they appeared older. Neither had had a real sicknessin his life, and the pair were admirably calculated, physically, to copewith the hardships which came to them later.
The collapse of the new lumber combination, and the running away of itshead man, Aaron Jackson, had proved a serious blow to their prospects.As has been intimated, the company owed them two hundred dollars fortimber, and, as not a cent was forthcoming, they found themselves indebt, not only for the quarter's rent for the land they were working,but also at the general supply store at the village of Basco, threemiles away. The boys had worked hard, early and late, to make both endsmeet, and it certainly looked as if they did not deserve the hard luckwhich had befallen them.
It was supper time, and the pair had just finished a scanty meal ofbeans, bread, and the remains of a brook trout Randy had been luckyenough to catch before breakfast. Randy threw himself down on thedoorstep, while Earl washed and dried the few dishes.
"I wonder if we can't get something out of the lumber company," musedthe younger brother, as he gazed meditatively at his boots, which weresadly in need of soling and heeling. "They've lots of timber on hand."
"All covered by a mortgage to some Boston concern," replied Earl. "Iasked Squire Dobson about it. He said we shouldn't get a penny."
"Humph!" Randy drew a deep breath. "By the way, has Squire Dobsonlearned anything about Fred, yet?"
"He's pretty sure Fred ran away to New York."
"I can't understand why he should run away from such a good home, canyou? You wouldn't catch me doing it."
"He ran away because he didn't want to finish studying. Fred always wasa wild Dick. I shouldn't wonder if he ended up by going out West to huntIndians." Earl gave a short laugh. "He'll have his eye-teeth cut one ofthese days. Hullo, here comes Caleb Norcross now!"
Earl was looking up the winding road through the woods, and, gazing inthe direction, Randy saw a tall, lean individual, astride a bony horse,riding swiftly toward the cabin.
"Well, boys, what's the best word?" was the sharp greeting given byCaleb Norcross, as he came to a halt at the cabin door.
"I don't know as there is any best word, Mr. Norcross," replied Earl,quietly.
"I was over to Bill Stiger's place and thought if I could see youto-night about the rent money, it would save you a three miles' tripto-morrow."
"You know we can't pay you just at present, Mr. Norcross," went on Earl."The suspension of the lumber company has left us in the lurch."
The face of the tall, lean man darkened. "How much did they stick youfor?" he asked abruptly.
"Two hundred dollars."
"Two hundred dollars! You were fools to trust 'em that much. I wouldn'thave trusted 'em a cent--not a penny."
"They were well recommended," put in Randy. "Even Squire Dobson trustedthem."
"That don't make no difference. I don't trust folks unless I know whatI'm doing. Although I did trust you boys," added Caleb Norcross,hastily. "Your father was always a straight man."
"And we are straight, too," burst out Randy, stung by the insinuation."You shall have your money, if only you will give us a little time."
"How are you going to get it?"
"We'll earn it," said Earl. "I am sure we can get out enough timber byfall to square accounts."
"That won't do for me--not at all. If you can't pay up to-morrow, youcan consider your claim on the land at an end."
"You won't give us any time?"
"No. I can sell this whole section to Dan Roland, and I'm going to doit."
"You are very hard-hearted, Mr. Norcross," began Randy, when a look fromhis elder brother silenced him.
"I ain't hard-hearted--I'm only looking after my own," growled CalebNorcross. "If I let things run, I'd do as the lumber company did--bustup. So you can't pay, nohow?"
"No, we can't pay," answered Earl.
"Then I'll expect you to quit by to-morrow noon."
Without waiting for another word, Caleb Norcross turned around his bonysteed and urged him forward. In less than a minute he had disappeared inthe direction whence he had come. With sinking hearts the boys watchedhim out of sight.
The blow they had dreaded had fallen, and for several seconds neitherspoke. Then Randy, who had pulled off one boot, flung it across thekitchen floor.
"I don't care, he can have his old place," he cried angrily. "We'llnever get rich here, if we stay a hundred years. I'm sick and tired ofcutting timber just for one's meals!"
"It's all well enough to talk so, Randy," was the elder brother'scautious response. "But where are we to go if we leave here?"
"Oh, anywhere! We might try our luck down in Bangor, or maybe Boston."
Earl smiled faintly. "We'd cut pretty figures in a city, I'm thinking,after a life in the backwoods."
"A backwoods boy became President."
"Do you wish to try for the presidency?"
"No; but it shows what can be done; and I'm tired of drudging in thewoods, without any excitement or anything new from one year's end toanother. Father and mother gave us pretty good educations, and we oughtto make the most of that."
"I knew he wanted to sell this land to Dan Roland," went on Earl, aftera pause. "I fancy he is going to get a good price, too."
"If Roland pays over five hundred dollars he will get cheated. Thetimber at the south end is good for nothing."
The boys entered the cabin, lit the lamp, and sat down to discuss thesituation. It was far from promising, and, an hour later, each retiredto bed in a very uneasy frame of mind. They were up before daybreak, andat breakfast Earl announced his intention to go to Basco and see whatcould be done.
"You might as well stay at home," he continued. "It may be Norcross willcome back and reconsider matters."
"Not he!" exclaimed Randy; nevertheless, he promised to remain and lookover some clothing which needed mending, for these sturdy lads were inthe habit of doing everything for themselves, even to sewing up rentsand darning socks. Such are the necessities of real life in thebackwoods.
It was a bright sunny morning, well calculated to cheer any one'sspirits, yet Randy felt far from light-hearted when left alone. He couldnot help but wonder what would happen next.
"We've got just twenty-eight dollars and a half in cash left," he m
used,as he set to work to replace some buttons on one of Earl's workingshirts. "And we owe about six dollars at the general store, threedollars and a quarter for those new axes and the coffee mill, and twentyto Norcross. Heigh-ho! but it's hard lines to be poor, with one's nosecontinually to the grindstone. I wonder if we shouldn't have done betterif we had struck out, as Uncle Foster did six years ago? He has seen alot of the world and made money besides."
Earl had expected to be gone the best part of the forenoon, and Randywas surprised, at half-past nine, to see his elder brother returningfrom the village. Earl was walking along the road at the top of hisspeed, and as he drew closer, he held up a letter.
"It's a letter from Uncle Foster!" he cried, as soon as he was withinspeaking distance. "It's got such wonderful news in it that I thought Iought to come home with it at once."
"Wonderful news?" repeated Randy. "What does he say?"
"He says he is going back to Alaska,--to some new gold field that hasjust been discovered there,--and he wants to know if we will go withhim."