Two Young Lumbermen by Edward Stratemeyer

"Here we are back in Detroit, Owen, and just about as far as we were when we first came."

"Excepting that we have had two disagreeable experiences," replied Owen.

"Two?"

"Yes; first my uncle, and then the storm -- and I don't know but that the experience at the camp was the worst," added Owen, a little regardless of his grammar.

"Oh, well, let us forget that, Owen. I believe in looking ahead, not behind."

"I shouldn't like to run into another man like Uncle Jack Hoover."

"Nor I. And I doubt if there are many such men around."

The young lumbermen had put up at a cheap but good hotel. Their ready money was running low, but they did not feel like touching the amount they had put in the bank.

"We must find something before the week is out," continued Owen, after a pause. "Do you think it would do any good to write to Mr. Wilbur?"

"I've been thinking of him. Didn't somebody say he had an interest in a Michigan lumber concern?"

"Mr. Paxton said he held shares in the Lakeside Consolidated Lumber Company. A good many other folks own shares in that concern, too."

"We might hunt up that company. On the strength of Mr. Wilbur's name they might give us a job."

"That's so! Why didn't we think of that before! " cried Owen. "Let us call at the offices without delay."

It was an easy matter to locate the concern mentioned. The offices were in a new stone building near the water front. There was something of a corridor, with several places that were railed off. Near one of the railings was a settee, and an office boy told them to be seated until somebody had time to wait on them. A dozen clerks and officers were present, and the air was filled with the hum of voices and the click-clicking of typewriters.

"They must do some business here," whispered Dale. "I heard one man speak of a consignment of a quarter of a million feet of lumber."

Not far from where they sat was a corner office. Here at a roller-top desk was a middle-aged man, thin and pale of countenance. He was talking to a visitor, a rough, bearded individual, evidently from the Far West.

"I'll see Balasco about that deal," the visitor was saying. "And if he agrees we'll be in good shape to go ahead."

"That's true, Hildan," was the hesitating reply. "But I -- er -- I question the -- er -- -- "

"Oh, it's all right, Mr. Force. The deal is as straight as a string."

"It doesn't look so to me."