"We're 'bout half there now," said Sandy Hopgood, after a long and steady pull over hills and through hollows. "But the wust part of the road is to come." And so it proved. The wagon jounced along as if ready to fall to pieces at any moment, and more than once Dale and Owen, who had both noticed the shabby harness, imagined that straps and buckles would fly in all directions. But, old and worn as it was, the turnout held together, and at last they caught sight of a light ahead, and the driver announced that they would soon be at their destination. The Hoover camp consisted of half a dozen buildings, built on either side of a muddy roadway leading to a creek that flowed into the Saginaw River. Beyond the cabins were two stables and a tool shed. Down close to the river was a sawmill, also belonging to John Hoover. All the buildings were old and dilapidated, but the owner of the camp did not believe in spending money to fix them up. As the wagon came up to the cabins, the door of one of the buildings was thrown open, and a man came out, lantern in hand. "Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice. [Illustration: "Have ye got 'em?" he demanded, in a shrill voice.] "Yes, Uncle Jack, I'm here!" sang out Owen, as cheerily as he could. And leaping down, he stepped forward and grasped his relative by the hand. "Been a long time getting here," grumbled John Hoover, to the driver. "I could have made the distance in an hour less." "We had to stop a while in town," replied Sandy Hopgood, but he did not mention the reason. "Are you glad to see me, Uncle Jack?" demanded Owen. "Why, I guess so, Owen. Depends on how you are going to go to work, now you are here. I must say you look tall and strong." John Hoover held up the lantern toward Dale. "Is this the other chap?" "Yes, this is Dale Bradford. Dale, this is Mr. Hoover." "Don't stand out there, John Hoover!" came in a shrill feminine voice from the kitchen of the cabin. "Bring 'em in here right away. I've waited as long as I'm a-going to wait with this supper." And then Mrs. Hoover, a short, fat woman, appeared, her sleeves rolled up, and her hands resting on her hips. "Thank you, but we've had supper, Aunt Maria," answered Owen, in a voice that was a trifle cold. "Had supper? Where did you get it?" "We stopped at the general store down by the depot. We were hungry, and didn't want to wait until we got here." "My! my! how extravagant--and me waiting with supper all the time. Well, if you don't want anything, I'll put the things away, and save 'em." And without further ceremony the woman bustled about to clear the table. It had been arranged by John Hoover that Owen and Dale should occupy a small corner room of the house. All the other hands, including Sandy, lived in the other cabins, and had their meals there. But Owen was to consider himself a member of the Hoover household, and his chum was to do likewise.