impressed Bob as belonging to the clerk class, with something added by
the outdoor, varied life. Indeed, later he discovered them to be sons of
carpenters, mechanics and other higher-class, intelligent workingmen;
boys who had gone through high school, and perhaps a little way into the
business college; ambitious youngsters, each with a different idea in
the back of his head. They had in common an air of capability, of
complete adequacy for the task in life they had selected. The sixth
sealer was much older and of the riverman type. He had evidently come up
from the ranks.

There was no general conversation. Talk confined itself strictly to
shop. Bob, his imagination already stirred by the incidents of his
stroll, listened eagerly. Fox was getting in touch with the whole
situation.

"The main drive is down," Tally told him, "but the Cedar Branch hasn't
got to the river yet. What in blazes did you want to buy that little
strip this late in the day for?"

"Had to take it--on a deal," said Fox briefly. "Why? Is it hard driving?
I've never been up there. Welton saw to all that."

"It's hell. The pine's way up at the headwaters. You have to drive her
the whole length of the stream, through a mixed hardwood and farm
country. Lots of partridges and mossbacks, but no improvements. Not a dam
the whole length of her. Case of hit the freshet water or get hung."

"Well, we've done that kind of a job before."

"Yes, _before_!" Tally retorted. "If I had a half-crew of good,