When Baptiste Ducrot understood how his talk with Axton had been overheard by Dale and Owen, and how the pair had notified Mr. Paxton and the sheriff, he was furious and shook his fist in the young lumbermen's faces. "I not forget dat, nevair!" he cried. "I remember dat. You wait an' see!" "I want to know about that horse that belonged to Mr. Larson," said Dale. "You sold him at Sandybay. Where is he now?" "You fin' out yourself," growled Ducrot, and would say no more. Under the guidance of the sheriff, Ducrot and Link Axton were transported to the county-seat, and there locked up. Dale wrote a long letter to John Larson, and the latter communicated with some people at Sandybay, with the result that the stolen horse was at last recovered. The French-Canadian had sold him for forty dollars to a lumberman known to Mr. Paxton. This lumberman attached Ducrot's wages and thus got back his money. Both Axton and Ducrot were then held to await the action of the grand jury. "I am glad that that matter is straightened out," said Dale to Owen. "Now I shan't have to pay for that horse." "We'll have to keep our eyes open for Ducrot," answered his chum. "When he gets out of jail he'll do us harm if he can." "I am not afraid of him. By the way, what of the caretaker at the lodge? Did you hear anything of him?" "Yes, he came back in a hurry when he heard the summons was a fake. He is an Englishman, named Jasper Nown. I guess he'll have a bad half-hour with Mr. Wilbur when the gentleman finds out how near he came to being robbed," concluded Owen, as the camp horn blew to call the men to their day's work. CHAPTER XIII A LOG JAM ON THE PENOBSCOT Several days later came letters for Dale and Owen, which the pair read with much interest. The communications were from Mr. Jefferson Wilbur, and he wrote to each thanking them for what they had done in his interest. He begged them to accept what he inclosed as a slight return for their services, and ended by stating that if they ever came to Boston he would be glad to have them call upon him. In each letter was a post-office money order for fifty dollars. "That is what I call generous!" cried Owen. "I wasn't expecting a thing." "I thought he might thank us, but I wasn't looking for money," returned Dale. "I hardly like to keep it." "Why not?" "Oh, I can't exactly say. It looks something like a charity." "I don't see it in that light. He has plenty of money, and this is a substantial evidence of how he appreciates what we did." Owen appealed to Mr. Paxton, and the camp owner told them to keep the money by all means. "Mr. Wilbur is very rich," he said. "And he wouldn't like it at all if you returned his gift. Perhaps he'd think you wanted something larger. Thank him for his kindness and let it go at that." And in the end each penned the best letter he was able, and kept the reward.