"That's all right, Skert," he said kindly. "You've done one big thing. An' it's the thing Bull and I want—"
"Then why in hell didn't you say it instead of talking—notions?"
For all the sharpness of his retort, Skert was mollified. Bat shook his head and a shrewd light twinkled in his eyes.
"You're a pretty bright boy, Skert," he said. "But you're brightest when you're riled."
They had gained the river bank where booms lined the shore, and scores of men were rafting. They had left the water-logged hollow behind them, and debouched on the busy world of the mill. Ahead lay the new extensions where the saws were shrieking the song of their labours upon the feed for the rumbling grinders. It was a township of buildings of all sizes crowding about the great central machine house.
They crossed the light footbridge over the "cut in" from the river, and moved along down the main highway of the northern shore.
Both were pre-occupied. The engineer was listening to the note of his beloved machinery. Bat was concerned with any and every movement going on within the range of his vision. They walked briskly, the lean engineer setting a pace that kept the other stumping hurriedly beside him.
Abreast of the mill they approached a new-looking, long, low building. It was single storied and lumber built, with a succession of many windows down its length. The hour was noon. And men were hurrying towards its entrance from every direction.
Bat watched interestedly.
"They seem mighty keen for their new playground," he said at last, with a quick nod in the direction of the recreation house.