To their great satisfaction the boys learned that Sandy, the stage driver, was about to start for The Forks, and they had no trouble in engaging passage. They barely had time to eat and say goodbye to Jeb when Sandy was ready for the start. Although the road was in terrible shape, the ride down was without incident and they arrived in good time for supper. Greatly to his surprise, Bob had learned from Sandy that they had not as yet succeeded in starting the jam. “Leastwise they hadn’t when I came up day afore yesterday,” he declared. “What’s the trouble?” Bob asked. “I dunno,” Sandy replied. “I heard Sim say as how they’d shot off enough dynamite ter blast out a whole mountain, but they hadn’t budged.” “It’s very strange,” Bob said, and let the matter drop. The first man they saw as they entered the hotel office was their father. “Dad!” shouted both the boys, as they made a rush for him. “Thought it was about time you youngsters were getting back,” Mr. Golden declared, after he had embraced them and greeted Rex. “But what are you doing up here?” Bob asked. “I just got here about an hour ago,” Mr. Golden replied. “Jean ’phoned that they couldn’t get the jam started and I thought I’d better come up and see about it. It’s pretty important that we get those logs going down the river rather soon, you know,” he smiled. Bob knew, more from his father’s looks than from what he said, that he was worried over the delay. “Why can’t they get them started?” Jack asked impatiently. “No one seems to know, as far as I can find out,” his father replied. “It sure looks fishy to me,” Jack declared. “I saw Donahue just before I left home and he declared that he was as anxious to get them started as I was, but I’m afraid he was stretching it a bit,” Mr. Golden told them, as he led the way into the dining room. “I don’t doubt for a single minute but that he had his men jam those logs there on purpose,” Bob declared, as he drew his chair up to the table. “But what I can’t understand is how they could fix them so that dynamite won’t start them.” “You just wait till we get at ’em and we’ll start something,” Jack asserted, as he helped himself to a huge plate of baked beans. “You’re great on starting things,” Bob laughed, “but how about finishing them?” “None of your kidding,” Jack laughed back. “I guess I’ve finished more than one job that you started. There, I guess that’ll hold him for a while,” he declared with a wink at Rex. Bob made no reply to the indictment, for he well knew that his brother was very efficient both at beginning and finishing tasks. They were about half through supper when Jean Larue, his usually smiling face wearing a deep frown, entered the dining room. “Well, Jean, what’s the matter now?” Mr. Golden asked, as the Frenchman drew his chair up to the table. “Dem logs, heem no mean to start,” Jean growled, as he reached for the dish of beans.