While Johnny Inkslinger was speeding after the new cook Paul Bunyan was struggling with the worst difficulty he had ever encountered. The kitchen was put in charge of the Galloping Kid, the head flunky, for the time being. He was a grand horseman, a mighty figure, as he rode his white horse among the tables at meal time, directing the running flunkies, but he knew little more about cooking than Paul Bunyan himself. His sourdough creations were all failures; the loggers broke their teeth on them, and what they did swallow was indigestible. All gayety vanished from the bunkhouses; even the bards, with the noble exception of the incomparable, unquenchable Shanty Boy, got silent and morose. Each day less timber was felled. In time the blue ox stood idle most of the day, waiting for loads of logs to be hauled to the landings. A successful conclusion of the logging seemed impossible, but Paul Bunyan would not admit it. A late spring thaw, a great physical revival when the new cook got into action--he stimulated the men with these hopes and kept up some semblance of work in the woods. Jonah Wiles was now enjoying the happiest time of his life. Everyone was in a state of wretchedness that delighted him. He heard threats of revolt; disastrous events were surely advancing their shadows on the camp of Paul Bunyan; he gloated over the evil he would wreck on the son of his enemy. But he kept his feelings well hidden. His sly suggestions were the source of many of the bitterest complaints the loggers made against their life, but he never complained now himself. His small blue eyes had a watery shine of sympathy for everyone. He spent an hour each night with Sourdough Sam, pretending to console him, but actually enjoying his sufferings. When the new cook arrived in camp Sourdough Sam was able to sit up and introduce his son to Paul Bunyan--“Hot Biscuit Slim, sir, who’s goin’ to be one uh the greatest cooks uh history.” The young man leaned nonchalantly against Paul Bunyan’s toe and looked up calmly at the mighty figure above him. “I’ll shore be glad to work for you, Mr. Bunyan,” he said. “But you’ll have to fix things accordin’ to my ideas.” “Son, the camp is yours,” rumbled Paul Bunyan. “Half of my loggers are now too weak to lift an ax.” Whereupon Hot Biscuit Slim shook his father’s good hand, smiled enigmatically when the old man said, “I’m expectin’ you to succeed where I failed with sourdough, boy,” and left to inspect the cookhouse. Paul Bunyan and Johnny Inkslinger attended him. When the inspection was finished he had many recommendations to make. He demanded---- A new cookhouse, ten times the size of the present one. Steam-power, force-feed batter mixers, and a hot cake griddle large enough for a battalion of second cooks to make a line around it. A battery of great ovens for the baking of pies, cakes, puddings and cookies. Bins for potatoes and other vegetables. Fruit and vinegar cellars. Baking powder and sugar barrels.