Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Loggers -- Fiction; Logging -- Fiction; Michigan -- Fiction
“Look here, Shearer, if you take this job, we may as well understand
each other at the start. This is going to be my camp, and I'm going to
be boss. I don't know much about logging, and I shall want you to take
charge of all that, but I shall want to know just why you do each thing,
and if my judgment advises otherwise, my judgment goes. If I want to
discharge a man, he WALKS without any question. I know about what I
shall expect of each man; and I intend to get it out of him. And in
questions of policy mine is the say-so every trip. Now I know you're
a good man, one of the best there is, and I presume I shall find your
judgment the best, but I don't want any mistakes to start with. If you
want to be my foreman on those terms, just say so, and I'll be tickled
to death to have you.”
For the first time the lumberman's face lost, during a single instant,
its mask of immobility. His steel-blue eyes flashed, his mouth twitched
with some strong emotion. For the first time, too, he spoke without his
contemplative pause of preparation.
“That's th' way to talk!” he cried. “Go with you? Well I should rise to
remark! You're the boss; and I always said it. I'll get you a gang of
bully boys that will roll logs till there's skating in hell!”
Thorpe left, after making an appointment at his own hotel for the
following day, more than pleased with his luck. Although he had by now
fairly good and practical ideas in regard to the logging of a bunch of
pine, he felt himself to be very deficient in the details. In fact, he
anticipated his next step with shaky confidence. He would now be called
upon to buy four or five teams of horses, and enough feed to last them
the entire winter; he would have to arrange for provisions in abundance
and variety for his men; he would have to figure on blankets, harness,
cook-camp utensils, stoves, blacksmith tools, iron, axes, chains,
cant-hooks, van-goods, pails, lamps, oil, matches, all sorts of
hardware,--in short, all the thousand and one things, from needles to
court-plaster, of which a self-sufficing community might come in need.
And he would have to figure out his requirements for the entire winter.
After navigation closed, he could import nothing more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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