OE KENT preceded his drive to Falls City by a few days. He found Wright in great feather. Several large orders had been placed, proof that the terms of the settlement mentioned by Locke in his letter were being carried out. But when Joe asked the lawyer for more details the latter shook his head.
“I can't mention names, for that was part of the arrangement,” said he. “You be satisfied with what you've got. You're a hundred times better off than if you had merely exposed Garwood.”
“I know it,” Joe admitted; “but are you sure the arrangement will be carried out?”
“Certain. You've got good orders coming in, haven't you? You won't have anything to complain of hereafter. How about those logs? Can you deliver them on time?”
“I think so,” Joe replied.
“Well, you'd better be mighty sure before you take them past your own booms. Wismer will refuse to accept them if he gets half a chance, and see where that would leave you. You couldn't bring them back upstream, and there isn't a concern on the river below Wismer that would buy them, this side of Hughson's Mills. To get there, towing charges and tolls would eat up your profits, and old Hughson would whipsaw you, anyway.”
“Crooks says I can do it, and so do my foremen,” said Joe. “I've got to sell the logs to meet my liabilities. I'll keep barely enough for my own mill.”
“All right—if you're dead-sure,” said Locke.
The situation was made very clear to Joe. He was told plainly that the bank had gone with him as far as it would go. In the event of non-delivery his credit would be cut off and his securities sold. The mortgage company would enforce their rights in any event. Also there was no doubt that Wismer & Holden would enforce to the letter the penalty clause in their contract. These things, taken together, meant bankruptcy. And that would mean that his marriage with Jack must be put off indefinitely. On the other hand, if he delivered the logs he could wipe off most of the debt, put his business on a solid basis, and ask her to become mistress of the old Kent homestead without delay. It was worth fighting for, and Joe's' lean jaw hardened as he swore to himself that nothing should stop his drive.
Business claimed him by day, but the evenings he was able to spend with Jack. They sat in the dusk of Crooks's wide veranda, watching the stars light and wink in the June sky, while soft-winged moths fluttered ghost-like among the shading vines. Neither was overly given to sentiment, but in those brief evenings their confidences grew; and each, looking into the other's inmost mind, found there only honour and loyalty and little of ambition, but a great desire to live straightly and cleanly and truly, thinking evil of none and doing such good as might be.
Being ordinary young people they did not put these things into words. They rather shied from the sentimental and high-flown, preferring the more accustomed planes of speech and thought. But they understood each other, and so were content. The only shadow, and a constantly recurring one, was the question of the drive.
“If I don't make it I'm busted,” said Joe practically, “and so I've got to make it. There's no reason why I shouldn't. Now, it's this way.” For the twentieth time he went over the problem.
“Dad says you can make it,” Jack agreed. “It's a week to Steven's Ferry. Down to Burritt's Rapids is two days more. Then allow time to tow through Thirty Mile Lake—oh, you can make it with nearly a week to spare.”
“Of course I can,” said Joe, “and then, Jack, I think we'd better get married.”
She flushed to the roots of her brown hair.
“In the fall, Joe?”
“No—right away. What's the use of waiting? My business will be solid then, and I deserve a holiday. Let's take one together.”
“Well”—she considered the question gravely, without affected hesitation—“I'd like that. I'll see what dad says about it.”
“It's up to you.”
“Yes—I know. Still, we'd better not leave him out.”
“I don't want to. He's as good a friend as I have. What he says goes, of course; but he won't object if you don't.”
“I won't.” Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Oh, Joe, you've got to deliver those logs! You've got to, you've got to!”
“Jack,” he said grimly, “I'd deliver 'em now if the whole blamed river dried up. Come down to-morrow and see them go through. We'll cut out enough to run the mill, but the main drive will go straight ahead and I'm going with it. I'll wire you as soon as we strike Burritt's Rapids. I can tell then how it's going to go.”