"No," said Bob, "I used to go up to the booms with him--I remember them
very well; but we moved up to Redding before I was old enough to get
about much."

Welton nodded his great head.

"Good old days," he commented; "and let me tell you, your dad was one of
the best of 'em. Jack Orde is a name you can scare fresh young rivermen
with yet," he added with a laugh. "Well, pack your turkey to-night;
we'll take the early train to-morrow."

That evening Bob laid out what he intended to take with him, and was
just about to stuff it into a pair of canvas bags when Tommy Gould, the
youngest scaler, pushed open the door.

"Hello!" he smiled engagingly; "where are you going? Been transferred
from the office?"

"On drive," said Bob, diplomatically ignoring the last question.

Tommy sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed until he was weak. Bob
stared at him.

"Is there anything funny?" he inquired at last.

"Did you say on drive?" inquired Tommy feebly.

"Certainly."

"With that?" Tommy pointed a wavering finger at the pile of duffle.