“Um!...” says Mark, and for a minute he looked clean discouraged.
“What did your l-l-logs cost you?”
“I figgered to pay twelve dollars a thousand.”
“How much did it cost to h-h-handle ’em?”
“How should I know?”
Mark waggled his head like he didn’t feel very comfortable inside of it. “Course you don’t know what the l-labor cost on each article?”
“Now you look here, Mark Tidd, I hain’t no ’cyclopedy. How ever you think I was goin’ to know them things?”
“Know how many drumsticks you got out of a thousand f-foot of timber?”
“Never counted.”
“Near as I can g-gather,” says Mark, “the main thing you know about this b-b-business is that it’s busted.”