“Right the first time. Now watch for fireworks.”
CHAPTER VII.
BIG BEN MAKES A CALL.
Big Ben Donahue was all that his name implied. Standing a full six feet and four inches in his moccasins, his broad shoulders and perfectly proportioned body made him appear even taller. A typical politician, his face, which habitually wore a broad smile, could in a second, change to lines of fierce determination. Although of Irish descent, he was born in America and spoke without a brogue. His strength was prodigious and he delighted in such feats as tearing in two an entire pack of playing cards, straightening out, with a single jerk, a new horse shoe, and once, on a bet, he had in eight hours, felled and trimmed three thousand feet of spruce. One thousand feet is considered a good day’s work for an experienced chopper, and the feat had never, so far as any one around there knew, been duplicated. “As strong as Big Ben Donahue” was a common expression in Maine.
“It’s too bad Tom had to go to Greenville,” Jack said, as glancing through the window he saw the man making his way, with rapid strides, toward the office.
“Yes, I guess we’ll have to do the honors, but be mighty careful what you say,” Bob replied.
Big Ben, after hammering on the office door several times without result, tried the latch but finding that the door was locked he turned his steps toward the mess house.
“He’s got his company smile on anyhow,” Jack whispered, as the big man gave the door a resounding whack with his big fist.
Bob threw open the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Donahue,” he greeted the guest pleasantly.
“Good morning boys,” and he held out his hand with a broad smile.