“I’ve had a little experience,” admitted Donald modestly.
Douglas, who had been poring over the drawings, spoke emphatically. “I’ll bet Dad would be interested in this. I’ve heard him say that all mills would be electrically driven sometime. He’s up-to-date—always willing to listen to new ideas.”
“But old ‘Moss-back’ ain’t,” growled Gillis.
“Who’s old ‘Moss-back’?”
“One of the office men by name of Renwick. He’s one of them narrow-’tween-the-eyes, psalm-singin’ old has-beens that sez ‘tut tut’ every time he hears a logger say ‘damn.’ His health is poor, so they’re goin’ to send him up here to take charge of this mill. Thanks be, I’m goin’ to have charge in the woods, so I won’t have nothin’ to do with him.”
They discussed the matter during the day, and that evening they again visited the falls. From the trapper Donald learned that the supply of water was unfailing. Owing to the natural formation, the cost of building the dam would be small. Donald’s friends became as enthusiastic as himself.
“We’ll be finished to-morrow night, Douglas,” announced Gillis that evening. “If you and Donald want to, you can go to town and put this proposition up to your father.”
The lines of steel were creeping north slowly but surely. As they left the cabin to start for the Coast, the first faint boom of a blast was brought to their ears by the southern breeze. Ten miles south of the lake they came to steel and rode to Squamish in the cab of a locomotive, reaching Vancouver that night.
Douglas informed Donald over the ’phone the next morning that his father would give him a hearing at two o’clock that afternoon.
As Donald thought of the impending meeting he experienced certain inward qualms. He felt that Renwick would oppose him, and wondered if Robert Rennie would consider him conceited and forward in suggesting such a radical innovation.