Now, first off, you'll have to range the woods for
bark. Do you know where to find it?"
"Yes," Dick nodded. "Over on that place they call Katson's Hill."
"But that's about eleven miles from here," objected Driggs.
"I know it is," Prescott answered. "But the point is that Katson's
Hill is wild land. No tax assessor knows who is the owner of
that land, and it wouldn't bring enough money to make it worth
while to sell it at a sheriff's sale. So a number of farmers
turn their cattle in there and use it for free grazing ground.
As no owner can be found for the land we won't have to pay for
the birch bark that we cut there."
"That's so," Driggs acknowledged. "But it's an awful distance,
and over some mighty rough bits of road. You'll be about dead
after you've packed a load of birch bark in from Katson's Hill."
"That wouldn't be anything, compared with having to do without
our canoe," Dick returned.
"Maybe not," Driggs conceded. "Now, boys, is there much of that
birch bark on Katson's Hill?"
"There must be several shiploads," Dave Darrin replied.
"Good enough. Then, see here. I'll take this job at twenty dollars,
if you boys will get the birch bark. After you've brought in
enough to patch the canoe then you can bring in enough more to
amount to twenty dollars. Is that a go?"
"It's wonderfully kind of you," Dick answered gratefully.
"Not much it isn't," Driggs grinned, "and it will make that young
Ripley cub feel mighty sore and cheap when he finds that he was
the only one who got 'skinned' at this auction.
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