Part 24 (1/2)

”Swiped it from our next neighbors,” I suggested. ”It must have been part of the foundation, from the size of it.”

”Hey, Jim, where did you corner that?” Tom yelled.

Jim did not deign to reply until he had brought the big timber alongside of the other logs.

”I captured that over there on the other side of the valley,” he informed us proudly but indefinitely.

”Where did it come from?” I inquired.

”From some of the Union Pacific bridges, about six hundred miles above here,” he replied. ”Some flood brought it down.”

”It's a fine stringer,” I commented.

”There's any quant.i.ty of good stuff in the drift over there,” Jim said, ”boards and about everything else we need to make our old raft s.h.i.+pshape. It's time to knock off work, boys, now; you have made a good start on those logs.”

”I'm going to wash off,” I declared.

The rest followed my example. It was a close, hot evening and it felt mighty refres.h.i.+ng to get into the river, for we had put in a hard day's work and were dirty and sweaty, though we were not especially tired.

”Why don't you swim over to that rock, Jim?” I asked.

”Not for me,” he said, shaking his head. ”I know when I have had enough.”

We did not stay in the water long and in a short time we were seated in camp, and with ravenous appet.i.tes were attacking our supper, our heads still wet and our faces s.h.i.+ning red from the water and the sun.

We were just tired enough to enjoy sitting on the old bent cottonwood, swinging our feet. You know how you feel if you have been tramping all day or working in the fields, and after a good clean up, sit down to a square meal.

We were in high spirits as we had made a good start or rather laid a basis for our work. We certainly felt st.u.r.dy and adequate enough for anything. There is a peculiar feeling of strength that comes to one after a day of muscular exercise and we had had that all right.

”What are you going to do with that big stick, Jim?” I asked.

”That goes for the keel,” he answered.

”You are not going to build a boat, are you?” I inquired.

”No,” replied Jim, ”but even with a raft you will have to have something to keep her in the current.”

We got into our blankets quite early and slept like logs, with never a thought of mosquitoes or anything else. A mountain lion might have crept down and yanked one of us off and the other two would not have been the wiser.

Jim got us out the next morning before the sun was up and we were down at the beach working like beavers. I tell you it was a busy scene.

Tom and I, with axes and adzes, hollowing out the two logs. Jim went to work on his stringer, shaping it up and also digging it out after he had made some measurements of the log I was working on.

When night came, after we had put in twelve hours' steady toil I felt discouraged. It did not seem that we had accomplished much, but Jim was cheerful.

The following morning, however, after a refres.h.i.+ng night's sleep, it looked much more hopeful as I stood on the beach looking over what had been accomplished on the two previous days.

Jim's plans began to shape themselves and we saw what our new craft was to be like. His design was far superior to what we had planned. The groundwork was three of the longest and largest logs.