“I am certainly glad to make your acquaintance, sir,” Rex declared as he grasped his hand. “And you certainly came in the nick of time.” “Sure did, Jack,” Bob agreed. “What were those fellows trying to do to ye and why?” As the rest of the crew drew closer, Bob told of their adventures of the night. “The brutes,” Skeets said when he had finished. “But let ’em go now. We’re on our way up to the camp and we’ll tend to ’em when we get there,” and he explained that he was in charge of the crew that was to occupy that camp for the season. There were about thirty in the crew and after a short rest they all started for the camp. It was just after seven o’clock when they arrived. They found Jean much disturbed over their absence and about to start out to look for them. The boys quickly told him what had happened and the Frenchman’s eyes flashed with anger as he listened. “Dey no come back here, I don’t tink,” he said as Bob finished. “But I find out ver’ queek and if dey did I feex heem bon.” At first it was impossible to learn that the five men had returned to the camp but, after many inquiries, Jean learned that they had come in about a half hour before the arrival of the crew. “They were wet to the skin and looked about all in,” the man said who had seen them. Having learned that they were in camp Jean was not long in finding them. They were in the cook’s quarters huddling close to the stove. They looked up in fright as Jean, followed by the boys, entered. “You one bon bunch,” Jean declared in disgust as he stood looking at them. “When you geet dry an’ rest, I, Jean Larue, will geeve you beeg lickin’, one at a time.” They were a thoroughly cowered quintet as they crouched there by the hot stove and Bob could not help but pity them. “After all,” he whispered to Rex, “they live as they have been brought up.” Then, as a sudden thought struck him, he turned to Jean and drew him away a short distance. “Jean, isn’t that big fellow Baptiste Deveraux?” he asked. “Oui, dat heem.” “I thought so. Haven’t I heard that he claims to be the best log roller in Maine?” “Heem tink so, oui.” “Good. Now, Jean, Rex has never seen a log rolling contest and right here are two of the best, Jack Skeets and this Baptiste. Why not settle the question as to which is the better. Tell Baptiste that if he can beat Jack Skeets nothing will be done about last night.” For a moment Jean was silent, then his face lighted up. “Dat be one beeg sight, oui,” he declared. “It’ll be a sight worth coming a thousand miles to see,” Bob declared enthusiastically. “I see what Baptiste, heem say,” and Jean again approached the group by the stove. “Hey, Baptiste, you bon at log rolling, oui?” he asked. Instantly the face of Baptiste lighted up. “Oui, I beat all mans.” Jean then proceeded to lay the proposition before him. “Oui, I roll heem,” he said eagerly as soon as he was made to understand the terms. “Now if Jack Skeets will only consent,” Bob said to Rex.