Throughout the afternoon, after having sent his orders in writing to
the woods-boss, via George Sea Otter (for he dared not trust to the
telephone), be waited in his office for a telephone-call from the
logging-camp as to what action the engine-crew had taken. He could
not work; he could not think. He only knew that all depended upon the
success of his coup to-night. Finally, at a quarter of six, Curtis,
his woods-boss rang in.
"They're staying here all night, sir," he reported.
"House them as far from the log-landing as possible, and organize a
poker-game to keep them busy in case they don't go to bed before
eight o'clock," Bryce ordered. "In the meantime, send a man you can
trust--Jim Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do--down to
the locomotive to keep steam up until I arrive."
He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office.
"Well?" he queried casually.
"Safe-o, Buck!" replied Bryce. "How about your end of the contract?"
"Crowbars, picks, shovels, hack-saws to cut the rails, lanterns to
work by, and men to do the work will be cached in your lumber-yard by
nine o'clock, waiting for the rails to arrive."
Bryce nodded his approval, "Then I suppose there's nothing to do but
get a bite of dinner and proceed to business.
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