What he possessed he had worked for--early, late and
all the time. His father had stood by and seen the old homestead in his
native Southern State topple into ashes, Only the gaunt chimney left;
the son had worked his way through college, and then with diploma in
one hand and his courage in the other--all he owned--had shaken the
dust of civilization from his shoes and had struck out for the Northern
wilds: Wabacog was the result.

All these years he had kept in touch with his college chums, and when
the day of his success arrived, and he was his own master, with the
inborn good-fellowship that marked his race, he had unbuttoned his
pocket, shaken out his heart and let loose a hospitality that not only
revived the memories of his childhood, but created a new kind of joy in
the hearts of his guests. Hence the bungalow--hence Jackson--hence the
lockers and the ice-chest, and hence the bed quilt of mint.

"This is your room, Muggles--and, Bender, old man, yours is next
Podvine, you are across the hall," was his welcome. "Breakfast is any
time you want it; dinner at six. Now come here! See that line of
lockers and that ice-chest? Don't forget 'em, please! Step up,
Jackson--take a look at him, boys. That darky can mix anything known to
man. He never sleeps, and he's never tired. If you don't call on him
for every blessed thing you want day or night, there'll be trouble."

They fished and canoed; they hunted bears--a fact known to the bear,
who kept out of their way--never was in it, Bender insisted; they went
overboard every morning, one after another, in the almost ice-cold
water of the lake, out again red as lobsters, back on a run, whooping
with the cold to the blazing fire of the bungalow which Jackson had
replenished with bundles of dried balsam that cracked and snapped with
a roar while it toasted the bare backs and scorched the bare legs of
each one in turn (the balsam was gathered the year before for this very
purpose). They roamed the woods, getting a crack once in a while at a
partridge or a squirrel; they strolled about the mill, listening to the
whir of the saws and watching the "cut" as it was rolled away and was
made to feed the huge piles of lumber and timber flanking the runway
and far enough away from the huge stack to be out of the way of
treacherous sparks; and at night they sat around Jackson's constantly
replenished fire and told stories of their college days or revived the
current gossip of the club