"Skellertons, am it?" exploded Jeff. "Wot yo' is gwine to do is to hire out to 'em fer a fat man—if yo' kin git filled up yere. But Mastah Paxton aint raisin' no fat men fo' no museums 'round dis camp, so yo' jest dun hole yo' hosses till I gits 'round dar a fo'th time."
And then the men would have to wait, until each had had his fill, when he would scramble from his seat with scant ceremony and prepare for the day's work.
CHAPTER VI
DEEP IN THE WOODS
Before the morning meal was over Dale and Owen became acquainted with ten or a dozen of the lumbermen, all rough-and-ready fellows, but above the average of the lumber camps in manner and speech.
"I'm glad we didn't strike a tough crowd," said Dale, remembering a lumber camp he had once visited, in which drinking was in evidence all day long and the talk was filled with profanity.
"So am I," answered Owen. "But I knew this camp was O. K. from the way Winthrop talked."
Luke Paxton, the owner of the camp, was away, but he came in during the forenoon and had a talk with each of the new hands. He was of a similar turn to Winthrop, and asked Dale and Owen a number of short questions, all of which they answered promptly.
"I guess I knew your father," he said to Owen. "I used to have an interest in a lumber yard in Portland. He was a good man." And then he turned away to give directions for putting up two additional shanties in the camp and a log cabin, which would become the general home of the lumbermen when cold weather set in.