The Summit Mill was to be modern in every respect, lighted with electricity and provided with modern plumbing and hot shower-baths. The white steel beds of the dormitory were clothed in clean white sheets and pillow-cases. There was no analogy in this perfection to the ordinary logging-camp.
For hours Donald followed the expert through the mill, while the latter explained and tested the different motors.
Once a week Robert Rennie came to the mill, taking a keen interest in all phases of its construction, and invariably he went away with a pleased smile on his face.
“Never saw the old man so worked up,” commented Gillis. “Guess he’d like to come up here and run her himself.”
Renwick was still sceptical. For no apparent reason he had taken a dislike to Donald. “It’s just ’cause you and I are such good friends,” explained Gillis. “Me and him get on like a couple of strange bull-dogs.”
When the huge three-storied mill, with its dry kiln, lumber skids, conveyor shed and railroad spurs, was ready for operation, and each machine had been tested, Robert Rennie arrived with other officials of the Company. Next morning Donald’s heart thumped as the mill’s big whistle sent out its first call to work and the men filed eagerly to their posts.
The logs were sprayed with huge water-jets as they came up the chain-haul to clean them of gravel and débris. The electric “nigger” spun them about and threw them into place with a thud that shook the mill. Then in a wild crescendo of sound there rose the harsh chorus of saws: the singing howl of the cut-off, the strident, slurring sound of the gang-saws, and the staccato snarl of the trimmer.
Smiling and rubbing his hands, Robert Rennie walked through the mill. “Running like a greased pig,” shouted Gillis above the clamour. The owner of the R. C. & L. Co. so far forgot his decorum as to slap the astonished Gillis heartily on the back.
Donald noticed an ever-increasing irritability on the part of the logging foreman during the next week. The ertswhile jocular Gillis became sulky and morose. Donald got an inkling as to the cause of his friend’s gloom when he heard Gillis in conversation with Andy.
“What the ’ell’s the matter, you big lunkus? You’re like a bear with a sore foot,” complained Andy.