“Ben’s crew ought to be along any time now, though you never can tell about what he’s up to,” Bob remarked as he glanced toward the shore. “Here comes Sam with the grub,” Jack shouted a little later as he spied the cook coming down the river on the logs carrying a big basket in his hand. “There’s a camp over to the right of the island and I move we go there and get dinner the first thing. It must be about noon,” Bob proposed. “Just twelve o’clock and I second the motion,” Jack responded as he started to lead the way. Sam soon had a roaring fire going in the cook stove, with which the cabin was equipped, and Jean and Pierre crowded as close to it as they could get in order to dry their wet clothes. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch cold?” Rex asked as he joined them. “Non, we no geet cold. We tough,” Jean grinned, and Pierre nodded assent. They had just finished their lunch when the sound of voices were heard outside. “Guess that’s Ben’s crew,” Bob said as he started for the door. He was right and in almost no time, the crew, numbering some thirty men, had taken possession of the camp. They were a happy-go-lucky crowd of half-breeds and Irish, in charge of a big Irishmen by the name of Pat Murphy. The boys knew Pat slightly and he greeted them with a great show of cordiality. “So yez got the jam away from The Forks, did yez?” he asked as he shook hands with them. “But we didn’t get very far,” Bob said dryly. If Pat Murphy noticed the tone of his remark he showed no indication of it. “Oh, well, and it’s us as’ll have ’em agoin’ agin before yez know it,” he promised, as he glanced out of the window toward the river. “There’s no head ter thot jam and they’ll be after starting aisy I’m thinkin’.” It was well after two o’clock before the crew had finished dinner. “Sure and it’s no use tryin’ ter make them fellers do iny work till they git filled up,” Pat assured them as he came out of the camp and joined the boys who were sitting on a log in front of the building. “I suppose not,” Bob agreed. “No use at all at all,” Pat repeated. “But we’ll be after gitting at ’em pretty soon now.” But, as Bob predicted, one excuse followed another and it was nearly four o’clock before they actually got to work, and even then, it was plainly evident to the boys that they were instructed to accomplish as little as possible. “The lazy loafers,” Rex said after he had watched them for a few minutes. “It isn’t that,” Bob explained. “They’re under orders from Big Ben to hold those logs here as long as they can without coming to a showdown. If we could prove that they were holding them intentionally we could make him pay for it as it’s against the law, but there’s little chance of doing that. They’ll just doddle along and put up a big front of working and at the same time do just as little as possible. Oh, he’s a sharp one all right.” “But we’ve got the best of him more than once and we may this time,” Jack declared.