Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the Great North Woods Part 27

"There can be no doubt of it. We have evidence of that."

"Suppose some one should step in and buy the section--what then?"

"It would serve the robbers right," declared Tom Gray with emphasis.

"What is the section worth?"

"Too much money for us. Say fifty to seventy-five thousand dollars, or even more if it is owned by private persons. If the state owns it, the latter figure probably would be about what one would have to pay for the timber rights."

"At the latter price how much could a fellow expect to clear on the deal?" persisted Hippy.

Tom said it would depend upon whether one sold the logs delivered at the mill, or worked them into lumber at his own mill. It was his opinion that the holder should earn a profit of a hundred thousand dollars or more, in the latter instance, provided he had proper shipping facilities.

"Of course, here you have the river on which to float your logs down to the mill, which should be located at or near the lakes," added Tom.

"Look it over carefully to-morrow. I am getting interested to know more about the lumber business. One can't have too much knowledge, you know.

Now that we have sold our coal lands in Kentucky, you and I are interested in high finance. Eh, Tom?"

"Thanks to you, Hippy, we are."

The coal lands to which Hippy referred were part of an estate that had been willed to him by an admiring uncle while Lieutenant Wingate was a member of the United States Army Air Forces in France. The Overland Riders had made the Kentucky Mountains the scene of their summer's outing the year before their present journey, and there experienced many stirring adventures. Hippy, at first, decided to work the mines himself, with Tom Gray as his partner, but that winter they received an offer for the property and sold it outright for a large sum of money, which Lieutenant Wingate insisted they should share equally.

The two friends, after sitting about their campfire until a late hour that night discussing the subject that had taken strong hold of Hippy's mind, lay down to sleep in the open.

Immediately after breakfast next morning Tom and Hippy started out to make a thorough "cruise" of the pine trees in the section from which a few acres of logs had been cut. They finished their work late in the afternoon, but Tom did not venture a further opinion on what he had seen until they were on their way to their camp, where they had decided to remain another night.

"Well?" demanded Hippy finally. "Speak up! How about it, Tom?"

"Hippy, you have looked upon the finest plot of virgin timber to be found anywhere outside the states of Oregon and Washington. I wish someone would buy it and beat those pirates out. It is a burning shame to let them get away with it."

"Where would one have to go to find out about it?"

"St. Paul, possibly. Why?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," answered Lieutenant Wingate thoughtfully.

Hippy asked who owned the timber adjoining the section, but Tom did not know that any individual owned it because the map showed that it was still a part of the state forest reserve.

"You see these maps were issued some months ago, and many changes may have taken place in that time, though they are really supposed to be up to date."

"Is w.i.l.l.y likely to be up here to-day, Tom?"

"No. I asked him to keep within easy reach of the Overland camp at night while we are away."

w.i.l.l.y, being a man of his word, guarded the Overland camp jealously for two nights, but on the morning of the next day, just before daybreak, he started to go upstream and look for the two absent men, his understanding being that they were to be away but one night. He was hiking along the river bank when Hippy, who had remained with the horses while his companion went into the forest for a final brief survey before starting for home, discovered the Indian who hailed him.

"How do?" greeted the Indian.

"Nothing wrong at camp, is there?" questioned the Overland Rider anxiously.

"No. Me come see where Big Friends go."

"That is fine. You are just the man I wish to see. Who cut off this timber, w.i.l.l.y?" indicating the cutting that he and Tom had first discovered.

"Not know. Somebody steal um."

"That is what Captain Gray says. Perhaps it was cut by a new owner--someone who has bought this plot, w.i.l.l.y."

The Indian, gazing on the stumps in the clearing with expressionless eyes, shook his head slowly.

"This section belongs to the state, I think," ventured Hippy.

"No belong state."

"Who, then?"

"Belong Chief Iron-Toe. Him Chippewa chief--Big Chief."

Lieutenant Wingate became instantly alert.

"Are you positive of that, w.i.l.l.y?"

The Indian nodded.

"Do you know the gentleman with the iron toe?"

"Him my father."

Hippy was a little taken back by the answer, but his eagerness for more information overcame what might have become embarra.s.sment.

"Your father! Do you think he would sell the section?" he asked eagerly.

"No sell."

"But I wish to buy it, w.i.l.l.y."

"You buy?" questioned the Indian, regarding Lieutenant Wingate thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"You Big Friend. Me fix."

"Do you mean it?"

"Me fix."

"Good. When?"