Appleton turned to the ladies.
"Make yourselves at home," he said as the fire roared up the stove-pipe. "Ross and I will look over the works a bit. Where is the boss?" he asked of the man who was returning to the wood-pile.
"Out in the cuttin' somewheres; er me'be over to the rollways," replied the man, laughing. "Big Bill he's out among 'em all the time."
"By Glory! H. D., we've all got to hand it to you when it comes to picking out men. I'd like to catch one of my foremen out on the works some time—I wouldn't know whether to fire him or double his wages!"
Sheridan mouthed his cigar, and the two turned into a skidway.
Appleton smiled. He raised a finger and touched his eyelid.
"It's the eye," he said. "Look in a man's eye, Ross. I don't give a damn what a man's record is—what he's done or what he hasn't done. Let me get a good look into his eye when he talks and in half a minute I'll know whether to hire him or pass him on to you fellows. Here he comes now."
Bill took keen delight in showing the two lumbermen about the camp.
"What's the idea of the ell on the bunk-house?" asked Appleton.
"Teamster's bunk-house," replied the foreman. "You see, I know how it feels to be waked up at four in the morning by the teamsters piling out of their bunks; so I built a separate bunk-house for them. The men work too hard to have their sleep broken into that way. And another thing—I built a couple of big rooms onto the office where the men can play cards and smoke in the evening. I ordered a phonograph, too. I expect it in on the tote-wagon."