Most of the boys was at camp loadin' gear
on the scows. They said Jack's gone around to Tumblin' Creek with one
man. He wasn't back this mornin'. So I thought maybe he'd gone to the
Springs. I dunno's there's any occasion to worry. He might 'a' gone to
the head uh the lake with them constables that went up last night.
How's Charlie Benton?"
She told him briefly.
"That's good," said Lefty. "Now, I'd go around to Cougar Bay, if I was
you, Mrs. Jack. He's liable to come in there, any time. You could stay
at the house to-night. Everything around there, shacks 'n' all, was
burned days ago, so the fire can't touch the house. The crew there has
grub an' a cook. I kinda expect Jack'll be there, unless he fell in with
them constables."
She trudged silently back to the _Waterbug_. Barlow started the engine,
and the boat took up her slow way. As they skirted the shore, Stella
began to see here and there the fierce havoc of the fire. Black trunks
of fir reared nakedly to the smoky sky, lay crisscross on bank and
beach. Nowhere was there a green blade, a living bush. Nothing but
charred black, a melancholy waste of smoking litter, with here and there
a pitch-soaked stub still waving its banner of flame, or glowing redly.
Back of those seared skeletons a shifting cloud of smoke obscured
everything.
Presently they drew in to Cougar Bay. Men moved about on the beach; two
bulky scows stood nose-on to the shore. Upon them rested half a dozen
donkey engines, thick-bellied, upright machines, blown down, dead on
their skids.
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