The principal necessity was to start things moving. When he had done so, Bainbridge returned to camp with the twofold object of giving the cook his orders, and having a final settlement with Schaeffer. The latter was not particularly pleasant, but it was important. The man must quit the crew at once. Bob had made up his mind not to let the fellow spend even the night where he would have a chance to talk with and perhaps influence the others. With this determination uppermost, he passed by the mess tent to the other where the men slept, pulled aside the flap, and stepped inside. The place was a mess of blankets and half-dried clothes, but to Bob’s surprise it was vacant of anything in the nature of a man. Evidently Schaeffer had recovered and vamoosed. Thoughtfully he sought the cook, and put the question. “Came in here an’ got some grub a full hour ago,” that servitor explained briefly. “When he’d eat it he went off agin.” “Didn’t he say where he was going?” Bainbridge asked. The cook shook his head. “Nary word.” “And you didn’t happen to see what direction he took?” “Nary a sight,” was the reply. “I was busy inside.” Bob frowned for a second, and then shrugged his shoulders. After all, what did it matter where the fellow had gone, so long as he had taken himself away? It was very natural for him to avoid the man who had so humiliated him, though it was rather puzzling to have him slip away without apparently encountering any one. Bob proceeded to give his orders to the cook, explaining that he would have to pull up stakes at once and start down the river. “The boys will be a long way from here by nightfall,” he said, “so you’ll have to hustle. I’ve saved out a couple of men to help you and the cookee, who’ll be under your orders till you pitch camp to-night.” Outside the mess tent he hesitated an instant. Then he entered the other tent. This time he did not pause by the door, but crossed hastily to the farther corner, where there was a small space crudely partitioned off from the main portion. This would be Schaeffer’s sanctum, of course, and Bob entered it curiously--only to stop with an exclamation of mingled surprise, anger, and chagrin. The place was in the utmost disorder. Blankets were rolled up in a ball and flung into the corner. Articles of wearing apparel were scattered about, while over everything were sifted scraps of white paper in seemingly endless quantity. It was these torn scraps that roused Bob’s indignation. He seemed to know intuitively, without the evidence of the limp, empty book covers here and there, that the foreman had taken time to tear into shreds every record and paper connected with the drive which he possessed. Time books, scalers’ measurements--everything--had been destroyed practically beyond the possibility of reconstruction. There would be no accurate way now by which the firm could figure their profits or costs or labor charges. The very paying of the drive crew would be a matter of guesswork.