From that moment the affairs of the new enterprise went as well as could be expected.  Of course, there were many rough edges to be smoothed off, but as the season progressed the community shaped itself.  It was indeed a community, of many and diverse activities, much more complicated, Bob soon discovered, than any of the old Michigan logging camps.  A great many of the men brought their families.  These occupied separate shanties, of course.  The presence of the women and children took away much of that feeling of impermanence associated with most pioneer activities.  As without exception these women kept house, the company “van” speedily expanded to a company store.  Where the “van” kept merely rough clothing, tobacco and patent medicines, the store soon answered demands for all sorts of household luxuries and necessities.  Provisions, of course, were always in request.  These one of the company’s bookkeepers doled out.

“Mr. Poole,” the purchaser would often say to this man, “next time a wagon comes up from Sycamore Flats would you just as soon have them bring me up a few things?  I want a washboard, and some shoes for Jimmy, and a double boiler; and there ought to be an express package for me from my sister.”

“Sure!  I’ll see to it,” said Poole.

This meant a great deal of trouble, first and last, what with the charges and all.  Finally, Welton tired of it.

“We’ve got to keep a store,” he told Bob finally.

With characteristic despatch he put the carpenters to work, and sent for lists of all that had been ordered from Sycamore Flats.  A study of these, followed by a trip to White Oaks, resulted in the equipment of a store under charge of a man experienced in that sort of thing.  As time went on, and the needs of such a community made themselves more evident, the store grew in importance.  Its shelves accumulated dress goods, dry goods, clothing, hardware; its rafters dangled with tinware and kettles, with rope, harness, webbing; its bins overflowed with various food-stuffs unknown to the purveyor of a lumber camp’s commissary, but in demand by the housewife; its one glass case shone temptingly with fancy stationery, dollar watches, and even cheap jewelry.  There was candy for the children, gum for the bashful maiden, soda pop for the frivolous young.  In short, there sprang to being in an astonishingly brief space of time a very creditable specimen of the country store.  It was a business in itself, requiring all the services of a competent man for the buying, the selling, and the transportation.  At the end of the year it showed a fair return on the investment.

“Though we’d have to have it even at a dead loss,” Welton pointed out, “to hold our community together.  All we need is a few tufts of chin whiskers and some politics to be full-fledged gosh-darn mossbacks.”