"The price on that timber went up, just as I said it would," exclaimed the man who was reading, presently. He glanced toward the clerk, and in so doing caught sight of Owen and Dale. "Hullo! What can I do for you?" he went on.
"We are looking for Mr. Ulmer Balasco," said Owen.
"That's my handle, young man."
"We are out of employment and thought you might have an opening for us," continued Owen, as he came closer, for Mr. Balasco did not offer to rise from his chair.
"Hum! I don't know about that." Ulmer Balasco turned to his book-keeper. "Nixon, are any of the gangs short of hands?"
"Not according to Monday morning's report," was the short reply of the clerk.
"Then I don't see——" Ulmer Balasco appeared to muse for a moment. "What can you do? Had any experience? Where did you come from?"
"We've worked around lumber camps and sawmills for several years," said Owen.
"And we've come all the way from Maine to try our luck here," put in Dale. "We carry a letter of recommendation from your partner, Mr. Jefferson Wilbur."
At the mention of Jefferson Wilbur's name, Ulmer Balasco suddenly arose.