If you think the logs are stolen, take your stuff and get out.

There were four big beech logs lying almost buried in the sand.

Dick Boulton came from the Indian camp to cut up logs for Nick’s father.

The others went on ahead of him down to the lake shore where the logs were buried in the sand.

They sunk the ends of their cant-hooks into one of the logs and swung against it to loosen it in the sand.

“If you think the logs are stolen, leave them alone and take your tools back to the camp,” the doctor said.

The logs had been lost from the big log booms that were towed down the lake to the mill by the steamer Magic.

But the lumbermen might never come for them because a few logs were not worth the price of a crew to gather them.

Nick’s father always assumed that this was what would happen, and hired the Indians to come down from the camp and cut the logs up with the crosscut saw and split them with a wedge to make cord wood and chunks for the open fireplace.

They had drifted up onto the beach and if nothing were done about them sooner or later the crew of the Magic would come along the shore in a rowboat, spot the logs, drive an iron spike with a ring on it into the end of each one and then tow them out into the lake to make a new boom.