"All right, I'll do it--next week." "No, this week," and Dale smiled good-humoredly. "Gracious, Dale! are you becoming my guardian?" "Not at all, Owen. But I want to see you begin." "I can't spare the money this week. I've got to have some new strings for the banjo, and hair for the fiddle bow, and have these boots mended, and pay my board, and buy some shirts, and----" "Not all this week. That fiddle bow will last a week or two yet, and so will your shirts. Now here is this cigar box I've been using for a bank. I cleaned it out paying off Hen McNair, but I am going to start a new account. When I put in a dollar you put in a dollar, and when you put in a dollar I'll do the same. Then, when we want our money, we can whack up." "How much are you putting in to start on?" "Two dollars." Owen gave something like a groan. "All right, if I must, I must," he said, bringing out his week's wages. "But it's worse than having a tooth pulled." "It won't be after you get in the habit of it." "I don't believe I could get in the habit of having my teeth pulled." "You know what I mean. After a while it will become just as easy to save money as to spend it--that is, a fair proportion of what you earn." "Want me to become as close as my Uncle Jack?" "I guess there is small danger of that." Dale reached for his harmonica, which rested on a shelf. "Now strike up on the fiddle, and then you'll forget all about the hardships of saving." This was a sure way of pleasing Owen, and soon he had the violin from its peg on the wall and was tuning up. Then the pair began to play, one familiar tune after another, and thus the evening ended pleasantly enough. CHAPTER IV A FRESH START The shut-down at Odell's came sooner than anticipated. The mill owner had been almost positive about another consignment of logs, but at the last minute one of the pulp mills drove up the price on the timber and the logs went elsewhere. "It's no use," said Peter Odell, to his men. "I've got to shut down until next spring. During the winter I'll make cast-iron contracts for the next supply of timber, so there won't be any further trip-ups, pulp mills or no pulp mills. It's going to cost me money to quit, but, as you can see, I'm helpless in the matter." To this the men said but little. A few of them felt that Odell was to blame just as John Larson was to blame--because he had not made "cast-iron" contracts before. But these mill owners were of the old-fashioned sort, easy-going and willing to take matters largely as they came. "The pulp mills have the upper hand of the business," said Owen to Dale. "They'll take anything that is cut down, and that gives them the advantage. Now it wouldn't pay Odell, or Larson either, to handle logs less than fourteen inches in diameter."