"That is certainly a queer letter," remarked Dale. "Evidently Mr. Wilbur is inclined to think that everything isn't going right around here." "I've heard that name of Hildan before, but I can't place it, can you?" "No. If he is called Foxy, he can't bear a very good reputation." "Exactly what I think. About the lumber, certainly Mr. Balasco isn't cutting as much as might be handled." "Yes, and he is sending a good part of the cut up to the flume. We can report on that without much trouble." At this point some men came up; and the interesting conversation came to an abrupt close. CHAPTER XXIX MATTERS OF IMPORTANCE Fifteen miles below Tunley was located a large saw- and shingle-mill, where something like two hundred thousand shingles were cut and bundled every working day in the year. The mill also turned out wheel spokes, ax and pick handles, and various other things in wood, everything being done by machinery which was of the most complicated kind. Owen had been longing to visit this mill, and when he got the chance to go down to Rice's, as it was called, he was delighted. He went on horseback, carrying a band saw that Ulmer Balasco wanted exchanged for another. Between Tunley and Rice's mill there was a series of rapids in the river, and at this point the young lumberman saw a truly interesting sight. Half a dozen fishermen were out among the rocks in their rubber boots, each with a long spear in his hands. They were watching for salmon, and whenever a fish darted along, one or another would make a quick lunge with his spear. The majority of the lunges were unsuccessful, but occasionally a strike would prove true, and the fisherman would hold the struggling fish aloft and march to the shore in triumph with his prize. "That's a sport I wouldn't mind trying myself," thought Owen. "It beats watching a float all hollow." Rice's mill was a long, narrow building built on spiling, and fronting the river. To one side was a pond and yard for extra lumber, and to the rear was a dry kiln. At the front were large, double doors, and from these there was a runway or slide, reaching down into the water. Up this slide were hauled the logs to be cut up for various purposes. The noise around a mill was familiar to Owen's ears, yet the volume here was greater than he had ever heard before. There was the hum of the saws, the hiss of the planes, and the constant clank-clank so inseparably connected with all mills of this nature. Inside, the sawdust and small shavings were everywhere in evidence, and beams and rafters were coated with a white dust as fine as flour. Patent pipes and suction fans carried the large shavings to the furnaces, and scoops took the sawdust to a pit near by. It was a hot place, and the majority of the workmen wore nothing but their shirts, trousers, and shoes.