“‘Oh, I’m jest a kid from over on Roark,’ says Wash, handin’ th’ bottle t’ me. ‘You ought t’ see some o’ th’ men in my neighborhood!’ Then we went on.”
When the speaker had finished, there was quiet for a little; then the young man from the river drawled, “How much did you say that there engine ’d weigh, Joe?”
There was a general laugh at this, which the admirer of Gibbs took good naturedly; “Don’t know what she’d weigh but she was ’bout the size o’ that one there,” he answered.
With one accord everyone turned to inspect the mill engine. “Pretty good lift, Joe. Let’s you an’ me take a pull at her, Budd,” remarked Lem Wheeler.
The two men lifted and strained at the wheel. Then another joined them, and, amid the laughter and good natured raillery of the crowd, the three tried in vain to lift one of the wheels; while Mr. Matthews, seeing some unusual movement, came into the shed and stood with his son, an amused witness of their efforts.
“Sure this engine ain’t bigger’n t’other, Joe?” asked one of the group.
“Don’t believe she weighs a pound more,” replied the mountaineer with conviction. “I tell you, gentlemen, that man Gibbs is a wonder, he sure is.”
Old Matt and his son glanced quickly at each other, and the boy shook his head with a smile. This little by-play was lost on the men who were interested in the efforts of different ones, in groups of three, to move the wheel. When they had at last given it up, the young man from the river drawled, “You’re right sure hit weren’t after th’ boss give you that bottle that Wash lifted her, are you Joe? Or wasn’t hit on th’ way home from th’ settlement?”
When the laugh at this insinuation had died out, Buck said thoughtfully, “Tell you what, boys; I’d like t’ see Young Matt try that lift.”
Mr. Matthews, who was just starting back to the burr-house, paused in the doorway. All eyes were fixed upon his son. “Try her, Matt. Show us what you can do,” called the men in chorus. But the young man shook his head, and found something that needed his immediate attention.