Skert flung out his hand in a comprehensive gesture.
"Hell!" he cried. "That's no sort of talk anyway. I've been weeks on this thing. And I've got it to the last fraction. Big notion? Of course it is. Aren't we mostly concerned with big notions? Here, what are you asking? An inland boom with capacity for anything over a million cords. Well? It's damn ridiculous talking the size of the notion. This hollow is fixed right. Its bed is ten feet below the bed of the river. It's surrounded with a natural ridge on all sides a hundred and fifty feet high. There's a quarter mile below the hollow and the river bank, and the new mill extensions are just to the east of this ridge. It's well-nigh child's play. Nature's fixed it that way. Two cuttings, and a race-way on the river. We flood this. Feed it full of lumber in the summer with surplus from the cut and you've got that reserve for winter, so you can keep every darn machine grinding its guts out. What's the use talking? Big notion? Of course it is. We're out for big notions all the time. That's the whole proposition. Well?"
Bat grinned at the heated disgust in the man's tone.
"Sounds like eatin' pie," he retorted aggravatingly. "The cost? The labour? Time? You got those things?"
"It's right up at your office now." Skert's eyes widened in surprise at such a question. "It's not my way to play around."
"No." Bat's eyes refused seriousness.
"Oh, psha! This is no sort of time chewing these details. It's figgered to the last second, the last man, the last cent. I brought you to see things. Well, you've seen things. And if you're satisfied we'll quit right away. I've no spare play time."
There was no pretence of patience in Skert Lawton. He had looked for appreciation and only found doubt. He moved off.
Bat had done the thing intended. He had no intention of hurting the man. He understood the driving power of the mood he had stirred.
They moved off together.