"Hurrah! it's down!" cried Dale enthusiastically. "And it came just where he wanted it, too." [Illustration: "Hurrah! it's down," cried Dale.] The head feller wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his brawny and hairy forearm, and smiled at the youth. "Putty big crash, wasn't it?" he said, and smiled to show he appreciated Dale's compliment. "I wouldn't mind bringing down such a giant myself," went on Dale. "I never tackled anything larger than twenty-two inches." "Oh! are you a feller?" "I have been almost everything around a camp and a sawmill. But not here. I come from Maine!" "Maine! Put her there, young man!" The feller shook hands cordially. "I'm from Maine myself--came from Portland, eight years ago." "I am glad to meet you," said Dale, and introduced himself and Owen. The feller's name was Andy Westmore, and he proved to be a whole-souled individual. He asked about the news from Down East, and ended by saying he hoped Dale and Owen would get work at the camp and close to himself. "About two-thirds of the men here are Scandinavians, and one-half of the rest are French-Canadians," he said. "So we haven't got any more true-blue Americans than we ought to have." "I'd like to work with you," said Owen open-heartedly. "I don't care much for the foreigners--although they may be good enough fellows." "They are--and honest to the core. But they can talk very little English, and that makes it bad." Not to keep Andy Westmore from his work, they moved on to another portion of the big camp. Here they watched the sawyers at work, cutting several trees into proper lengths for transportation, and also saw the barkers scaling off the thick bark, which was rougher than any they had before seen. Further on still the swampers and laborers were clearing a place for a roadway, and the skid maker was arranging his logs. It may be mentioned here that a skid-way, or skid road, is merely one made of logs laid side by side, with the upper side partly smoothed down. The logs used for this purpose are usually limbs of trees that are too small to be cut up into timber. At the lower end of the yard was the donkey engine, fastened to several trees by heavy wire ropes or cables. Here was the big drum already mentioned, on which was wound the long wire rope used for hauling the timbers forward. When in action the donkey engine made a vast amount of noise. The fire was fed entirely on wood, and the pitch in the pine caused a heavy cloud of smoke to pour from the stack, a cloud that on a clear day could be seen for many miles around. The regular engineer was absent for the day, and in his place was a young fellow not any older than Dale, if as old--a youth with a broad, fair face, and thick, curly black hair. "You've got a warm job right enough," said Dale, after watching the youthful engineer for a few minutes. "Oh, I don't mind that," was the cheery answer. "I'm used to it, and I've worked in places a good deal hotter."