"Yes, and the worst of it is there is no telling when we'll start up again."
"In that case I'm going to pack up and go up to the West Branch. A friend of mine is going to open up on a claim there about the first of October."
"That is a good while yet. I can't afford to be idle that long."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know yet—perhaps try the other mills."
"Better try the pulp mill—they've got the business just now. Folks must have paper even if they don't get boards," and Philip Sommers gave a short laugh.
"I don't think I'd care to work in a pulp mill," answered Dale. "I like a sawmill or else being out in a lumber camp. But I'd rather work in a pulp mill than be idle."
"The pulp mill over——Hullo, there goes the noon whistle!" Philip Sommers dropped the board he was carrying. "Aint got time to talk any more," he cried. "Going home for something to eat." And picking up his jacket from a lumber pile, he walked away, leaving Dale alone.