Tom, seeing that his answer had failed to satisfy and none too sure of his ground in his own mind, scratched his head for several moments in deep thought. Finally he said: “It’s meself thot’ll bet a good five cent cigar thot thot ere question ain’t answered at all in the Bible.” “An’ I’ll take the bet,” Cap’n Seth quickly replied. “An’ we leave it ter Bob ter say who wins.” “Right ye are. Jest a minute and I’ll git me Bible,” Tom said, starting toward the bedroom which opened out of the office. “Port yer helm there,” the captain shouted. “We don’t need nary Bible ter settle this bet.” “And why not?” Tom asked, turning back. “Because I kin give yer the answer,” the captain assured him. “Oh, ye kin, eh? Wall, what is it?” Tom asked. “Wall, ye see it’s like this, I reckon. Moses didn’t take any giraffes inter the ark cause Moses wasn’t born till about a thousand years after the ark had finished her voyage. Noah had charge o’ that cruise, ye poor fish.” For an instant a puzzled expression stole over the face of the Irishman, and then, as the fact that he had been made the butt of a joke worked its way into his mind, he burst out laughing, and the boys joined in heartily. Great was the Irishman’s relief when he realized that, after all, his reputation as a Bible scholar had not suffered. “I owe ye the cigar all right, all right,” he declared, as soon as he could speak. “Sure and thot’s a good one, so it is. I’ll spring thot on Father Maginnis the next time I see him, so I will.” Just then the dinner horn sent its welcome blast through the vast forest and the captain quickly leaped to his chair and, followed by the others, started for the mess house. The meal was a hurried one, as they were anxious to get the big raft started despite the captain’s assurance that Big Ben would be far behind them. They all knew the advantage of getting the first raft of logs over the big dam at the outlet. In addition to the captain, the Comet boasted of a crew of two. Tim Sullivan, engineer and fireman combined, was a big Irishman with red hair and was, of course, called Reds by all who knew him. The other member of the crew was a half-breed by the name of Joe Gasson. Joe was a small man, about thirty years old, but what he lacked in size he more than made up for in strength and quickness. “That Joe, he’s quicker nor a cat,” Cap’n Seth was wont to say. Joe Gasson was deck hand and general utility man. “Can’t say as how I jest like the looks o’ that weather,” Cap’n Seth said to Bob, as he cast a weather eye toward the west. “You think it’s going to storm?” “Can’t say fer sartain this time o’ year, but I’m kinder afeard of it.” The Comet had just left the wharf and was backing up to the raft.