A large spike was driven into the end of a log, and to this a short piece of strong rope was tied. The other end was then secured to another spike driven into the end of another log, leaving enough leeway between the ends for flexibility. This was continued until a boom was completed long enough to reach entirely around the raft. These rafts contain about 30,000 logs and will yield approximately 2,000,000 feet of lumber. The boys, together with all the rest of the crew, had discarded their moccasins and were wearing heavy shoes, the soles of which were thickly studded with short but sharp brads, which prevented any possibility of slipping on the logs. By a little past ten the boom was completed and fastened around the huge raft, which was then ready to be towed across the lake to the East Outlet, where the waters of the lake emptied into the Kennebec River. “Hurrah! There she comes,” Jack shouted, a few minutes later, as his sharp eyes spied a thin stream of smoke far down the lake. “Begorra, and ye kin depend on Cap’n Seth to git here in time for dinner,” Tom Bean laughed, as he picked up his sledge and started for the office. The boys, from the little wharf, watched the approaching steamer, the Comet, one of the fleet of The Coburn Steamboat Company. “There’s the Twilight, I’ll bet a nickle,” Bob declared, pointing to a second stream of smoke some distance behind the Comet. “I suppose she is going to tow Big Ben’s first raft across.” “Probably,” Jack agreed. “I only hope that we can get across first and get our logs started ahead of his. He’ll, of course, do all he can to hold us up on the way down the river, and if he gets started ahead of us he can give us a lot of trouble.” Big Ben Donohue, a man of Irish descent and a local political boss, owned a big lumber camp a few miles down the lake. Having been under-bid, in a large contract with The Great Northern Star Paper Company by Mr. Golden the summer previous, he had tried in many ways during the winter to delay their work, but thanks to the two boys, he had failed to accomplish his purpose. “There’s Cap’n Seth,” Jack shouted, as a large middle-aged man swung his cap to them from the deck of the small steamer as she steamed up to the wharf. “Hello, Cap’n Seth,” both boys shouted, as they heard the bell on the boat ring for “back water.” Cap’n Seth was an old timer on Moosehead Lake. He had worked on the lake as boy and man as far back as he could remember, and no one knew the lake better than he. “How’s the byes?” he greeted them, as he sprang to the wharf and threw a half hitch of the rope which he held in his hand about a stout post at the end of the wharf. “Fine and dandy, and how’s yourself?” Bob asked, as he shook hands. “If I felt any better I’d be scared,” Cap’n Seth declared, biting off a large hunk of “sailor’s delight.” “Is the Twilight going to tow for Ben?” Bob asked, as they started toward the office.