“I’ve got ten box-cars of two-inch maple and birch coming in within the next three or four days. Have a gang ready to take care of it. Put on enough extra men in the shipping department to load as fast as the cars empty,” he said.
Beam gaped at Jim. Then his eyes brightened, he grinned, he threw back his head and roared.
“Mr. Ashe,” he said, when he could speak, “you’re a regular feller, and sudden!”
The cars arrived. On the eighth day fifteen thousand boxes of pins were on their way to New York in eight box-cars, and the freight-agent of Moran’s railroad looked at Jim with the light of admiration in his eyes. Jim had met a sudden emergency suddenly and efficiently. He was tempted to sit down and describe the feat to his father, who would have delighted in it. But he did not. He remembered Clothespin Jimmy’s admonition not to bother him with his business.
But Clothespin Jimmy learned of the matter, which Jim did not know. He learned of it promptly, as he learned most of the details of what went on in the mill, from a source Jim was far from suspecting.
The day after the last car was on its way Zaanan Frame stopped Jim on the street.
“Hain’t forgot that strip of timber of old Le Bar’s?” he asked.
“No,” said Jim.
“Nice afternoon for a drive,” said Zaanan, “out toward Le Bar’s.”
“Very,” said Jim, smiling at the old man’s manner of handling a situation. “Would you like to go with me?”