“Mr. Burton, I presume?” he said, smiling pleasantly and extending a cordial hand. “My name is Graham. Glad to see you.”
“I am afraid that I am trespassing3 on your property, your provisions and your good nature,” Scott explained, “but I did not know what else to do.”
“Wasn’t anything else to do,” Mr. Graham said as he hung his hat carefully on a nail. “If you have just cooked supper enough for three I shall not say a word.”
Scott involuntarily glanced toward the door.
Mr. Graham noticed the look. “Oh, there isn’t anybody with me,” he laughed, “that’s just the way I feel. Had lunch with a cracker4 to-day. Maybe you don’t know what that means yet, but you soon will.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting two men to supper,” Scott laughed, “but I think there is plenty for all three of us.”
Scott started to get another cup and plate, but Mr. Graham had already gotten them for himself and took the seat opposite. He had never seen a man who looked more like his ideal of a woodsman, or one whom he had liked better at first sight. They had not been together five minutes and yet Scott felt as though he had known this big man for months.
“I had word from Washington that you would be down here,” Mr. Graham explained, “but I did not know just when you would come. I had a trip to make and thought I would get it in before you arrived. Found out at the postoffice that you had beaten me to it. What do you think of my hang-out here?”
“It’s a wonder!” Scott exclaimed enthusiastically. “I was just thinking before you came that I would not mind waiting here for you for a week or two.”
Mr. Graham was evidently pleased with his enthusiasm. “Don’t blame you, I feel pretty much that way myself. I ran on to it by chance one time and it took my fancy so that I decided5 to fix it up for my summer headquarters. I like it so well now that I stay here nearly all the time.”
“You fixed6 it up?” Scott exclaimed incredulously.
“Sure,” the big fellow grinned, immediately divining his thoughts. “Thought some woman did it, did you?”
Scott admitted it rather sheepishly.
“Yes,” Mr. Graham confessed, “I am somewhat of a lady myself when it comes to a love of flowers and beauty. I dawdle7 around out there in the yard a good share of my spare time. Not many ‘movies’ around here to distract a fellow’s attention.”
And so they talked till the meal was finished, the dishes washed, and the dishrag hung on its proper nail; for Mr. Graham was as orderly in the house as he was in the yard. Then they settled down in the steamer chairs on the porch and gazed in silence for a few minutes at the line of islands shimmering8 in the moonlit bay. It was like a scene from a fairy tale.
Mr. Graham broke the spell with a sigh. “I could look at a thing like that all night, but I suppose you are burning up to know something of this peculiar9 job to which they have assigned you.”
Scott admitted that he was rather curious.
“Well, I’ll try to tell you the whole story. The trouble started about two years ago. The Quiller Lumber10 Company had bought a big bunch of pine and cypress11 timber up near the edge of the big swamp. They are a small concern and do not have a very large crew. Of course, that means slow work and easy checking for us. Their slowness came to be a standing12 joke with the ranger13 up there who looks after the scaling. He used to say in his diary every now and then, ‘Quiller got down another tree to-day.’
“They had been at it about six months when the foreman came down to see me. ‘Have you noticed anything peculiar about our scale?’ he asked. ‘Noticed there has not been much to scale,’ I told him. ‘That’s just it,’ he said, ‘checked up on the stumps14 any?’ I explained to him that we seldom did that till a considerable quantity had been cut.
“‘Well, I have,’ he said, ‘and more than half of the stuff we have cut ain’t there.’
“He went on to tell me that he had had a night watchman on the boom for two weeks and tried in every way to check the thing up, but the logs kept disappearing just the same. A lot of his niggers got superstitious15 about it and quit the job.”
“How do they handle their logs?” Scott asked.
“Skid them down to the edge of the big swamp on high wheels and shove them into a bag boom. Then they raft them and float them out into the river.”
“Do they keep them in the boom long?” Scott was thinking again of the story of the sunken logs.
“Oh, they are not in the bottom of the swamp if that is what you are driving at. Murphy has prodded16 the bottom of that pond with a pike pole a dozen times.”
“Is there a channel through to the river or can they take them out anywhere?”
“I’ve hunted all over there myself and I cannot find a place where they could take them out except through that one channel.”
“I suppose you have had that channel watched?”
“Watched, I had Murphy hidden up there on a point of land for a month and the logs disappeared out of the boom right along just the same.”
“Are you sure that Murphy is all right?”
“Murphy, why, he thinks more of the Service than the Secretary of Agriculture does. No, sir, it is not graft17, I am sure of that; but I would give a good deal to know what it is.”
“Do they disappear before or after you scale them?”
“Did go both before and after. We scale them all in the woods now before they put them in the boom, but they are going out of the boom just the same.”
There was a long pause while both men frowned unseeing across the beautiful lagoon18. Scott was thinking of the ranger who had been the leader of the sheep gang in the West and wondering how he could best get a check on Murphy. Mr. Graham had long ago gotten past the point where he could think about it logically at all.
“Has the thing been going on ever since?” Scott asked.
“For two solid years,” Mr. Graham answered peevishly19. “I have put about half my time on the pesky thing and Murphy hangs around there like a baited bulldog. The foreman is almost crazy about it. He has all but accused the ‘’gators’ of eating the logs.”
“I suppose they take some rafts out occasionally?”
“Sure. They have been taking them out right along. Have speeded up considerably20 during the past year.”
“Ever check up the delivery of those logs?”
“Many a time, and so has the company. Check to the dot with the scale in the rafts.”
“If you are scaling in the woods you are getting paid for all they cut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, the company is paying all right. They howl and checkscale a lot, but they pay.”
“Then why is the Service interested in it? They are not losing anything by it.”
“No, they are not losing anything on this scale, but it is hurting our other sales and giving the forest a bad name. We do not like to have a thing like that going on under our very noses. Besides, it gets on a fellow’s nerves. I tried my best on it. Hated to give it up, but had to confess myself licked at last. Then I asked the office for help and you are the result.”
“Some result,” Scott grunted22. “I am not a professional detective. I just stumbled on to that sheep graft out there by chance, and now look what it’s gotten me into. I had never been to Florida and was glad enough to come down, but there is a fat chance of my solving this mess. It looks about as clear as mud.”
“That’s about the way it looks to me,” Mr. Graham nodded, “about as clear as mud. But all of us here are hypnotized now. We have been mooning over the thing so long that we cannot see straight any more. We may be walking all over some clue which will be perfectly23 clear to a stranger with an unfogged mind. Don’t give up before you start, man.”
“I’m not giving up,” Scott exclaimed, “far from it. Now that I have come all the way down here I simply have to put the job through, but I’m going to steer24 clear of these detective jobs in the future. They are too uncertain. Too much depends on luck.”
“Well, here’s wishing you luck,” said Mr. Graham, rising; “we’ll give you all the help we can, and grunt21 for you. Let’s go to bed, and to-morrow we’ll ride out and have a look at the arena25.” He paused for a moment at the porch railing. “Isn’t that fine? You can just imagine old Ponce de Léon threading his way along that beach looking for the Fountain of Youth four hundred years ago, and I’ll bet he stopped and sampled that very creek26.”
This historical touch gave the country a new interest to Scott.
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1
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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2
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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trespassing
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| [法]非法入侵 | |
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cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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7
dawdle
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| vi.浪费时间；闲荡 | |
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8
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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9
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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10
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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11
cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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12
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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14
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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15
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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16
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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17
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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22
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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25
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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