After a good night’s sleep, Fred Forest rose at sunrise, having ordered an early breakfast, as he was to start up the river as soon as possible.

He was standing in front of the hotel, breathing in the pure morning air, and wondering if Merriwell and his friends would turn out in time to go with him or would wait for the drive to reach Matawamkeag, when he was astonished to see Mike Sullivan, his foreman, come out of the door.

Sullivan was no less astonished to see Forest, and he would have dodged back into the hotel, but he realized that he had been seen and it was useless to dodge.

“What in the world does this mean, Sullivan?” demanded Forest, sharply.

The foreman muttered something, quickly pulling out a colored handkerchief and trying to conceal the battered and bruised condition of his face under pretense of wiping his mouth.

“Why are you here?” asked the young lumberman.

“I thought you might be in town, and I came down ahead of the drive ter see ye,” said the foreman, thickly.

“But what’s the matter with your face? You have been fighting.”

“Man has ter fight sometimes.”

“But I know your propensity. You had rather fight than[181] eat. You have been drinking, too. You had no business to leave the drive and come down here. Your place is with the men.”

Sullivan was silent.

“You know your agreement when I hired you. You were not to drink while on the drive.”

“A man has ter have something somtimes when he gets wet through,” half growled the foreman.

“That argument may go in the spring time, when the water is cold, but it is summer now, and it will not hold. It’s plain you have been on a tear. Who did you fight with?”

“Oh, a gang pitched onter me an’ Pombere last night. There was about twenty of ’em, and we was thumped pritty hard, but——”

Sullivan stopped short, muttering an oath, for at that juncture Frank Merriwell appeared in the doorway, looking as fresh as a morning-glory.

Forest saw Sullivan staring toward the door, his face working with fury, and he turned about.

Frank came down the steps.

“Curse ye!” snarled Sullivan.

To Forest’s astonishment, he saw that his foreman was about to make a dash at Merry, his fists clinched, his whole appearance indicating great rage.

Fred caught Sullivan by the arm, crying:

“Stop! That is my friend!”

Frank had paused with his hands on his hips, smiling quietly.

“Let him come if he wants to so bad, Forest,” he said.[182] “I’ll give him another dose of the same medicine I gave him last night.”

“If you dare attempt to touch him, Sullivan, I’ll discharge you!” came sharply from the young lumberman.

That caused the foreman of the drive to drop his hands, muttering to himself.

“So you had an encounter with him last night, Mr. Merriwell?” ............