“Is Dick Leslie here?” I asked.
“I dunno if Dick's come in yet, but I 'specks him,” he replied. “Be you the young gent Dick's lookin' fer from down East?”
“Yes.”
“Come right in, sonny, come right in an' eat. Dick allus eats with me, an' he has spoke often 'bout you.” He led me in, and seated me at a bench where several men were eating. They were brawny fellows, clad in overalls and undershirts, and one, who spoke pleasantly to me, had sawdust on his bare arms and even in his hair. The cook set before me a bowl of soup, a plate of beans, potroast, and coffee, all of which I attacked with a good appetite. Presently the men finished their meat and went outside, leaving me alone with the cook.
“Many men on this job?” I asked.
“More'n a thousand. Buell's runnin' two shifts, day an' night.”
“Buell? Does he own this land?”
“No. He's only the agent of a 'Frisco lumber company, an' the land belongs to the Government. Buell's sure slashin' the lumber off, though. Two freight-trains of lumber out every day.”
“Is this Penetier Forest?” I queried, carelessly, but I had begun to think hard.
“Sure.”