"Go to it," said he cheerfully. "Have a cigar! Everything's all ready."
Thorne laid aside his broad hat, and at once with keen concentration attacked the tabulations. Plant sat back watching him. Occasionally the fat man yawned. When Thorne had digested the epitome of the financial end, he reached for the bundles of documents.
"That's just receipts and requisitions," said Plant, "and such truck. It'll take you an hour to wade through that stuff."
"Any objections to my doing so?" asked Thorne.
"None," replied Plant drily.
"Now rangers' reports," requested Thorne at the end of another busy period.
"What, that flapdoodle?" cried Plant. "Nobody bothers much with that stuff! A man has to write the history of his life every time he gets a pail of water."
"Do I understand your ranger reports are remiss?" insisted Thorne.
"Lord, there they are. Wish you joy of them. Most of the boys have mighty vague ideas of spelling."
At noon Thorne knocked off, announcing his return at one o'clock. Most inspectors would have finished an hour ago. At the gate he paused.