Men and boys were everywhere, each with a lever in hand. There
was not the slightest cessation of the work. And a log forty feet long and
six feet thick, which had taken hundreds of years to grow, was cut up in
just four minutes.
The place fascinated me. I had not dreamed that a sawmill could be brought
to such a pitch of mechanical perfection, and I wondered how long the
timber would last at that rate of cutting. The movement and din tired me,
and I went outside upon a long platform. Here workmen caught the planks and
boards as they came out, and loaded them upon trucks which were wheeled
away. This platform was a world in itself. It sent arms everywhere among
the piles of lumber, and once or twice I was as much lost as I had been up
in the forest.
While turning into one of these byways I came suddenly upon Buell and
another man. They were standing near a little house of weather-strips,
evidently an office, and were in their shirt-sleeves. They had not seen or
heard me. I dodged behind a pile of planks, intending to slip back the way
I had come. Before I could move Buell's voice rooted me to the spot.
"His name's Ward. Tall, well-set lad. I put Greaser after him the other
night, hopin' to scare him back East. But nix!"
"Well, he's here now--to study forestry! Ha! ha!" said the other.
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