VI
Bob followed this streaming multitude to the large structure that hadearlier been pointed out to him as the boarding house. It was acommodious affair with a narrow verandah to which led steps picked outby the sharp caulks of the rivermen's boots. A round stove held theplace of honour in the first room. Benches flanked the walls. At one endwas a table-sink, and tin wash-basins, and roller towels. The men weresplashing and blowing in the plunge-in-all-over fashion of their class.They emerged slicked down and fresh, their hair plastered wet to theirforeheads. After a moment a fat and motherly woman made an announcementfrom a rear room. All trooped out.
The dining room was precisely like those Bob remembered fromrecollections of the river camps of his childhood. There were the samelong tables covered with red oilcloth, the same pine benches worn smoothand shiny, the same thick crockery, and the same huge receptaclessteaming with hearty--and well-cooked--food. Nowhere does the man wholabours with his hands fare better than in the average lumber camp.Forest operations have a largeness in conception and execution thatleads away from the habit of the mean, small and foolish economics. Atone side, and near the windows, stood a smaller table. The covering ofthis was turkey-red cloth with white pattern; it boasted a white-metal"caster"; and possessed real chairs. Here Bob took his seat, in companywith Fox, Collins, Mason, Tally and the half-dozen active young fellowshe had seen handling the scaling rules near the ships.
At the men's tables the meal was consumed in a silence which Boblearned later came nearer being obligatory than a matter of choice.Conversation was discouraged by the good-natured fat woman, Mrs.Hallowell. Talk delayed; and when one had dishes to wash----
The "boss's table" was more leisurely. Bob was introduced to thesealers. They proved to be, with one exception, young fellows oftwenty-one or two, keen-eyed, brown-faced, alert and active. Theyimpressed Bob as belonging to the clerk class, with something added bythe outdoor, varied life. Indeed, later he discovered them to be sons ofcarpenters, mechanics and other higher-class, intelligent workingmen;boys who had gone through high school, and perhaps a little way into thebusiness college; ambitious youngsters, each with a different idea inthe back of his head. They had in common an air of capability, ofcomplete adequacy for the task in life they had selected. The sixthsealer was much older and of the riverman type. He had evidently come upfrom the ranks.
There was no general conversation. Talk confined itself strictly toshop. Bob, his imagination already stirred by the incidents of hisstroll, listened eagerly. Fox was getting in touch with the wholesituation.
"The main drive is down," Tally told him, "but the Cedar Branch hasn'tgot to the river yet. What in blazes did you want to buy that littlestrip this late in the day for?"
"Had to take it--on a deal," said Fox briefly. "Why? Is it hard driving?I've never been up there. Welton saw to all that."
"It's hell. The pine's way up at the headwaters. You have to drive herthe whole length of the stream, through a mixed hardwood and farmcountry. Lots of partridges and mossbacks, but no improvements. Not a damthe whole length of her. Case of hit the freshet water or get hung."
"Well, we've done that kind of a job before."
"Yes, _before_!" Tally retorted. "If I had a half-crew of good,old-fashioned white-water birlers, I'd rest easy. But we don't have nocrews like we used to. The old bully boys have all moved out west--ordied."
"Getting old--like us," bantered Fox. "Why haven't you died off too,Jim?"
"I'm never going to die," stated the old man, "I'm going to live to turninto a grindstone and wear out. But it's a fact. There's plenty left canride a log all right, but they're a tough lot. It's too close here toMarion."
"That _is_ too bad," condoled Fox, "especially as I remember so wellwhat a soft-spoken, lamb-like little tin angel you used to be, Jim."
Fox, who had quite dropped his old office self, winked at Bob. Thelatter felt encouraged to say:
"I had a course in college on archaeology. Don't remember much about it,but one thing. When they managed to decipher the oldest known piece ofhieroglyphics on an Assyrian brick, what do you suppose it turned out tobe?"
"Give it up, Brudder Bones," said Tally, dryly, "what was it?"
Bob flushed at the old riverman's tone, but went on.
"It was a letter from a man to his son away at school. In it he lamentedthe good old times when he was young, and gave it as his opinion thatthe world was going to the dogs."
Tally grinned slowly; and the others burst into a shout of laughter.
"All right, bub," said the riverman good-humouredly. "But that doesn'tget me a new foreman." He turned to Fox. "Smith broke his leg; and Ican't find a man to take charge. I can't go. The main drive's got to besorted."
"There ought to be plenty of good men," said Fox.
"There are, but they're at work."
"Dicky Darrell is over at Marion," spoke up one of the scalers.
"Roaring Dick," said Tally sarcastically, "--but there's no denyinghe's a good man in the woods. But if he's at Marion, he's drunk; and ifhe's drunk, you can't do nothing with him."
"I heard it three days ago," said the scaler.
Tally ruminated. "Well," he concluded, "maybe he's about over with hisbust. I'll run over this afternoon and see what I can do with him. IfTom Welton would only tear himself apart from California, we'd get onall right."
A scraping back of benches and a tramp of feet announced the nearlysimultaneous finishing of feeding at the men's tables. At the boss'stable everyone seized an unabashed toothpick. Collins addressed Bob.
"Mr. Fox and I have so much to go over this afternoon," said he, "that Idon't believe I'll have time to show you. Just look around a little."
On the porch outside Bob paused. After a moment he became aware of afigure at his elbow. He turned to see old Jim Tally bent over to lighthis pipe behind the mahogany of his curved hand.
"Want to take in Marion, bub?" he enquired.
"Sure!" cried Bob heartily, surprised at this mark of favour.
"Come on then," said the old riverman, "the lightning express is gettin'anxious for us."
The Rules of the Game Page 6