Accept order. Will ship 15,000 boxes pins ten days this date seventy cents New York.
This message despatched, Jim rushed out into the mill in search of Beam; told him the fact.
“How will we get them packed out?” he asked.
“If you was to ask me serious,” said Beam, with a frown, “I’d say you couldn’t.”
“We’ve got to. How many are we packing out a day?”
“Close to a thousand boxes. These packers are the limit. They can’t get up speed.”
“We’ve got to make some regular shipments. That means about fifteen thousand boxes to pack out in ten days. Put on a double force of packers.”
“Where’ll I git ’em? We’re short now, and no place to go for more.”
“Get boys, then,” said Jim. “And tell the men—any of them that are willing to work evenings—to come in and pack. We’ll run that packing-room twenty-four hours a day if we have to.”
“You’re the boss,” said Beam, dubiously.