“Are you sure?” gasped Stanley.
“Of course he’s sure, ye young inventor,” heartily assured Abner. “Pipe line for pulp. Pulp pipe line. Who’d a thought it? And all out of his own head! And the boss never thought of it. Bet he gits a letter of thanks and a raise in pay for his ‘idea.’ Wal, wal, wal.”
“Stanley, I take it all back,” said Bub in an awed voice. “To think of your going to work and thinking that out all alone. What I told you someone had told me, but you make an entirely new thought.”
“I never would have thought of it if you hadn’t dinged into me so and if Abner hadn’t refused to take me along,” reminded the happy youth.
“Stop talking and git ready. The gas boat is waiting at the landing,” commanded Abner, once again assuming the role of timber cruiser.
The delighted youths sprinted to the boarding house where Bub’s slender outfit was ready to be strapped on his back.
“I’ve got some extra blankets,” bubbled Bub. “That’s all you need till we strike the Kennebago wangan. There you’ll be outfitted like the rest of us. This is going to be a very lively trip, my son.”
