Owen felt that it would be quite the proper thing, according to the idea of many, to invite all hands to "have something" at his expense. But, as we know, he did not drink, nor did Dale, and both were resolved to give the barroom a wide berth. "Thanks," he said. "But I guess we had better go right up to the camp and see Mr. Balasco. The train was late, you know." "All right, just as you say. But the boys----" The station master said no more. "They're tender-foots and young--let them have their way," was his thought. The roadway along the creek-side was rough and full of stones, with here and there a hollow, deep with mud. The undergrowth was rank, and stumps of immense trees stuck up everywhere. Nothing had been cleared, according to the notions of these young Down-Easters, and everything was in sad need of "sprucing-up," as Dale expressed it. In some spots trees of fair size had been cut down and left to decay, instead of being sawed up into boards or shingles. "This shows how wasteful man gets when he has all he wants," said Owen. "You wouldn't find so much timber going to waste anywhere in New England--stuff is too hard to get." The murmur of the creek was very pleasant, and in one spot they came to a rocky spring, from which a stream of water as large as one's hand poured forth. The water was both clear and cold, and each of the travelers satisfied his thirst eagerly. "This is better than visiting that hot and dirty-looking barroom at the hotel," was Dale's comment. "How men can hang around such places day and night is more than I can understand." "They want company as much as anything, Dale. They get lonely in the woods and come here for companionship. I don't really believe that one in ten wants the liquor he pours down." "Perhaps he doesn't when he starts, but he soon looks for it--make no mistake on that point--and then he finds it is too late to break away and give up the habit." Presently the pair heard the distant toot of a locomotive and the rattle of a lumber train as it passed over a trestle. Clearing a clump of timber, they came out into an opening, and saw at the upper end a lumber yard, with the railroad tracks running into it in fan shape. At the yard was a tiny turn-table for the engines, and half a dozen sheds for various purposes. A train had just come in, carrying twenty-odd tree trunks, each of good length, and from five to eight feet in diameter. "There is timber for you!" cried Dale. "I'll tell you what, there are a heap of boards in one of those sticks." "Not to say anything about shingles," put in Owen. An empty train of cars was on the point of leaving the yard, and the young lumbermen rushed up to the locomotive and hailed the engineer. "We want to see Mr. Balasco," said Owen. "Can we ride up to the camp with you?"