bank and have them cut and shipped down to the lake the first thing,” Stanley sought to mollify.
Charlie’s moosehide moccasin beat an angry tattoo.
“Keep it up and you’ll go overboard,” groaned Bub, under his breath.
“Is it possible!” murmured Abner, appealing to the back of Charlie’s head. “To think of Abner Whitten taking a younker out in the woods who don’t even know that birch can’t be floated down stream. Why in sin do ye s’pose them birch has been left?” he continued, now raising his voice. Then before Stanley could attempt to reply he ran on, “It’s because they ain’t near a railroad and because they can’t go in the drive. Ye can tow ’em across a lake, but ye can’t drive ’em. They’re too heavy.”
“I see,” mumbled Stanley, hanging his head.
“Don’t see,” corrected Charlie, shaking his head sorrowfully.
“Ye right, Charlie; he don’t see nothing,” cried Abner, to whom the youth’s lack of knowledge seemed incredible.
“He saw a saw,” meekly reminded Bub.
Abner half opened his month, then swallowed convulsively. “I beg yer pardon, young man.
