The Frontier Boys in the Grand Canyon Part 23

We did not resent this, as it saved us the trouble of unrolling ourselves. It did not take us long to stow our breakfast away in the hatches and then, with an eager vim, we sprang to our work.

We had packed the necessary supplies and tools to help us in constructing a raft. We each had an axe. There were also big spikes and several sizes of nails. We had plenty of these. Jim led the way to the slope of the valley, just above our camp, where grew the tall pines and in a few minutes there was the ring of the axes as we jumped into the work, each anxious to get his tree down before the other.

It was jolly work as I made the big yellow chips fly, and swinging into the stroke with all the weight of my body, poised from the toes.

Jim and Tom stood squarely on their feet and struck in only with the weight of their shoulders, and as they sent in their blows with greater rapidity, it looked as if they would surely beat me out. But it was like a bad stroke in rowing, and was hard on their wind and taxed their strength.

"Oh, you're slow," grinned Jim with a gleam of his white teeth as he glanced over his shoulder at me. "I'll have this fellow down before you are half through."

My only reply was to send another blow with precision and a big, perfectly blocked chip flew into the air and came down on Jim's back. It was my turn to grin. "They laugh best who laugh last."

It was true that Jim's first tree came down a few seconds ahead of mine, but after that I beat him easily, no matter how hard he struggled.

Oh, I tell you, it was great work, cheerful and invigorating in that resin fragrant air. We soon stripped off our s.h.i.+rts and, bareheaded, we swung out glittering axes into the trunks of the pines.

I don't think that any of the old knights used their great battle axes against the gates of beleaguered cities or on each other's iron top knots with any more enthusiasm than we three boys did as we slew the pines. I imagined that I was Ivanhoe or Richard Coeur de Lion and this added more vigor to my blows.

I think it would have pleased our old physical director if he could have seen the muscles on our arms and back and shoulders. Jim, long and rangy, Tom somewhat lighter, but with clear cut development, making for agility, while I was rather lithe, with symmetrical muscles and of tireless activity. It was a pretty strong, three-stand combination.

After the trees were cut and trimmed, the next thing was to get them down to the beach where the raft was to be constructed. Of course we had felled them as near the selected place as possible. Jim decided to press Coyote and Piute into service for snaking the logs down. Then there was something doing every minute, like in a three-ringed circus.

Jim fixed up a crude harness out of the ropes and hitched our broncho team onto the first log. They bucked and reared and kicked. Sometimes they varied matters by falling over backwards. We let into them with the whips, that is Tom and I did, while Jim held the ribbons or ropes.

Finally they started to run and the log went snaking down the slope, but in a minute they came to an abrupt stop, turning an unexpected somersault. But after an hour of gymnastics and acrobatics they settled into the harness like respectable animals.

After awhile we put Tom to work cutting saplings of cottonwood and quaking aspens. These were to be used for cross pieces to hold the raft together.

We had all the material gathered at the beach by the middle of the afternoon and we went to work to construct the raft. There was nothing so extremely difficult about it, but there was lots of hard work and it was not such a simple matter as making a raft to float on some quiet pond or down a gentle river.

There were some tough questions which came up and it took all of Jim's craft and strength to settle them, and Tom's ingenuity backed Jim up.

The very weight of our boat was a problem, but three strong boys buckling into a job of that kind can make pretty good progress.

You can imagine how anxious we were to start on our dangerous and memorable journey. The call of the river was continually in our ears, and we would look way down the stretch of water and wonder what lay ahead of us in that far and mysterious land surrounded with weird plateaus and strange ranges.

"I'm going to put a keel on our craft," said Jim. "That will be the only way to keep her to the current."

"I'd like to know where you will find it?" I asked.

"Don't you worry about that," replied Jim. "I'll locate it all right.

You fellows rest while I look around."

"I don't need a rest," I answered. "You lay out some work for us while you are scouting around."

Jim stood with his boot upon one log and his hand on his knee, supporting his chin. His eyes had a dull glaze and from this symptom and his att.i.tude, I want you to know that Jim was cogitating, and it was a subject worth thinking about, too, for it was of great importance that we should have a raft that would meet the requirements of the river.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BUILDING OF THE BOAT

"All right, Jo," said Jim, "I'll give you a contract that you can work on until sunset."

He looked over our bunch of logs carefully and picked out the three largest and finest.

"You can begin on these," he said. "Take the adzes and the axes and go to work and hollow them out."

"What for?" I asked.

"You will see later," he replied. "Try to think it out for yourselves."

Then he took himself off and we went busily to work. We certainly had our task cut out for us.

"What do you suppose Jim is after?" I asked. "Perhaps he is going to have us hollow out a canoe apiece and go sailing down the Colorado to see who will reach the end or get drowned first."

"Maybe he thinks that it will make the logs more buoyant and they will float higher if they are hollow," suggested Tom.

"It will take us a month or more to finish all these logs," I grumbled.

"What shape do you suppose the raft will be?" Tom inquired.

"Something like this," I said, taking my index finger and drawing a square in the sand. Tom shook his head.

"That would be too clumsy," he said, "and it would be striking on every rock and would be terribly hard to steer."

"What's your idea?" I asked.

"Instead of having it square, I would have it this shape," he answered.

And he drew an oblong figure in the sand while I looked on.

"Yes," I said, "and if it ever swung sideways to the current it would dam the river besides spilling us out."

"I would have a long steering oar on the stern and that would keep her head to the current," he replied.

"Yes, you would have a jolly time where there was cross currents. It would take about ten horse power to steer it."

"It's a lot better than yours," he said.

No doubt that was correct enough, but I did not take any pride in my ability as a s.h.i.+p constructor. Jim was yet to be heard from. And doubtless he would have improvements on both our designs. There was no question but there was room for them.

We went to work again at our task of hollowing the logs. We went at it fiercely because we wanted to accomplish something before dark. It was almost sunset now. Then we heard Jim's voice.

"Gee! Haw! Buck! Get up, Piute! Coyote!"

"By Jove, he's snaking down a big timber with our old plugs. Where do you suppose he got it?" exclaimed Tom.