For answer Toppy rose and stood on it.
“Well, well!” laughed Reivers. “Then Miss Pearson’s sympathy was all wasted. What’s the matter, Treplin? Aren’t you glad to hear that charming young lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and ask me to step in and see how you are this morning?”
“Not particularly,” replied Toppy, although he was forced to admit to himself a glow at this explanation of the girl’s conversation with Reivers.
“What are you interested in?” said Reivers suddenly.
Toppy looked up at him shrewdly.
“I tell you what I’d like to do, Reivers; I’d like to learn the logging-business—learn how to run a camp like this—run it efficiently, I mean.”
“Worthy ambition,” came the instant reply, “and you’ve come to the right school. How fortunate for you that you fell into this camp! You might have got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You might even have fallen in with a humanitarian. Then you’d never have learned how to make men do things for you, and consequently you’d never have learned to run a camp efficiently.
“Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in with me. I’ll rid you of the silly little ideas about right and wrong that books and false living have instilled in your head. I believe you’ve got a good head—almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you were in a situation where it was your life or the other fellow’s, you’d survive. That’s the proof of a good head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? Good! Is your ankle strong enough for you to get around on?”
Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using it as a cane, hobbled around the room.
“Yes, it will stand up all right,” he said. “What’s the idea?”