"But the loggers are foolish to cut small stuff," answered Dale. "They don't give the trees a chance to grow, and before long there won't be a tree left to cut." "The most of 'em think only of the money to be had right now; not what they might get later on. If I had my way I'd pass a law making it a crime to cut down small trees." There were but few other sawmills in that vicinity, and each of these was working only three-quarters or half time. Water being low, power was scarce, and the general condition was certainly disheartening. The two young lumbermen spent an entire week in seeking other employment, but without success. The only place offered was one to Owen at a pulp mill, tending a row of vats, but the pay was so small he declined it. "I hate a pulp mill anyhow," he declared. "Now that winter is coming on, I'd rather try my luck up the river at one of the big camps." "Exactly my idea!" cried Dale. "Say the word, and I'll start with you Monday morning. I'm sure we can find something to do up on the West Branch, or along one of the lakes." "The trouble is, how are we to get up on the West Branch?" came from Owen. "I haven't any desire to tramp the distance." "We can take the railroad train up to the lake," answered Dale, after a moment's thought. "I know Phil Bailey, who runs on the night freight. He'll give us a lift that far, I am sure. After we get to the lake we can try for a job on one of the boats going up the river." This was satisfactory to Owen, and the pair made preparations to leave Odell's on Monday at noon. In the meantime Dale penned a letter to John Larson, stating that he had not forgotten about the missing horse, and, if the animal did not turn up, he would some day settle for him. "It's the best that I can do," he said. "He was worth at least one hundred and fifty dollars, and it will take me a good long while to save up that amount." The nearest railroad station on the Bangor and Aroostook Railroad was a small place called Hemway. Here a passenger train stopped twice a day and a mixed freight did the same. Phil Bailey lived at Hemway, so it was not difficult for Dale to find the brakeman. "Yes, I'll take you along," said Bailey, "and glad to give you a lift. Carsons is sick, so I'm in charge this week. I'll look for you at the freight switch when the train comes along." As a consequence that night found Dale and Owen housed in the caboose of the freight train, bumping along at the rate of twenty miles an hour in the direction of the lake. It was not very comfortable riding, and the stops and delays were frequent, but as Owen said, "it beat walking all hollow," and as it cost them nothing they were well content. "I don't know that this beating the railroad out of a fare is just right," observed Dale, as they rode along. "But I guess such a corporation won't miss our few dollars."