MOAK'S ADVENTURE 45 



gave some of us at the time considerable food for 

 thought. Bob Moak, as I have said, had the best of 

 the others of the party both in years and timber ex- 

 perience. He was, indeed, beginning to feel the 

 strain of too long-continued and excessive effort. 

 His hair was grey and scant; on his legs, from knee 

 to ankle, bunches of varicose veins stood out def orm- 

 ingly. He was growing old at fifty, the day of his 

 ultimate retirement not so many years away. 



Though he would have fought at the suggestion, 

 the old cruiser found it increasingly difficult to make 

 his runs between dawn and dark. Some men, faced 

 by this dilemma, would have "cut corners" sat on 

 some hill within sight of camp and "dreamed in" 

 the map contours and the timber estimates. There 

 have been instances, rare of course, of such a pro- 

 cedure. 



But Bob was not that breed. Sometimes he came 

 into camp as late as seven or eight at night, having 

 worked since six in the morning; but his maps were 

 always accurate, his estimates closer than those of 

 any other man in the outfit. Always on such oc- 

 casions, to save his pride, he made light of these late 

 homecomings, saying, perhaps, with a pathetic at- 

 tempt at jocularity, "Well, I shore overslept to-day. 

 Took a nap right after lunch and never woke 

 up till four o'clock. I'll have to git me an alarm 

 clock t' take along, I reckon." 



One night he failed to show up at all. A search 

 was suggested late in the evening. 



