“You spread yourself out too thin, my son. A man who can do everything can do nothing. We specialize in our country. I hire men who can do only one thing, and do that thing better than anybody else.”
“Sir, I do not agree with you,” I could not help saying. “The most capable people in the world are the Americans. The best log house I ever saw was built by a man who owned a brown-stone front on Fifth Avenue. He simply pushed aside the guides whose specialty it was to do such things, took the axe in his own hands, and showed them how it should be accomplished.”
Mr. Hemster shoved his hat to the back of his head, and for the first time during our interview looked me squarely in the face.
“Where was that?” he inquired.
“Up in Canada.”
“Oh, well, the Fifth Avenue man had probably come from the backwoods and so knew how to handle an axe.”
“It’s more than likely,” I admitted.
“What were you doing in Canada?”
“Fishing and shooting.”
“You weren’t one of the guides he pushed aside?”