"I'm piled up," said Tenas Billy of the Lath Mill. He too was minus a thumb and the tops of some fingers, tribute to the saw. Especially do the Shingle Saw and Lath Saw take such petty toll. When the Hoes ask tribute or the Pony Saw it's a different matter.
"I'm piled up."
As to being piled up, that was a Sawmill metaphor.
"You've put the tightener on your belt!"
To be sure they all had.
But as to piling up, when things were booming and men were warm and feeling the work good, and when nothing went wrong with the belts or with the Engines and the logs came easy and sweet, it was the ambition of the Chief Sawyer to pile up the Skids of Long Mac who had the Pony Saw. Then it was Long Mac's desire to pile up the skids for the Chinee trimmer (not run by a Chinee) and it was that Trimmer's desire to pile up the man opposing. To be piled up is to have bested one's own teeth, when it comes to chewing.
"My skids are full," said the metaphorical.
At six the whistle blew again, with a bigger power of steam in its larynx. The Mill said:—
"Give me the logs, the boom is full and I'm in want of chewin'! Nika tiki hyas stick! Give me logs: I've new teeth this morning! I'm keen and sharp. Hoot—too—oot—too—oot! Give me Fir and Pine and Spruce—spru—ooce!"
The Hash-Room emptied till noontime, when next Hash-Pile was proclaimed, and the men streamed across the sawdust road and the piled yard to the open Mill. Some went in by the door, some by the Engine-Room, some climbed the Chutes. The sun was aloft now and shining over the Pitt River Mountains (where Pete came from) and over Sumach. The river danced and sparkled: scows floated on its tide: the Gem steamer got up steam. The Canneries across the big River gleamed white. The air was lovely with a touch of the breath of the mountains in it. The smell of the lumber was good.