you are! I shall never live to git to the mills. Men and wheels idle! Ha! ha! ha!”
“Your way lays up the road; I’ll return to Errol,” gritted Stanley, wheeling about.
“But don’t you see!” cried Bub, wiping his eyes and striving to sober his expression. “The—the men in a paper mill are always loafing when things go right. When you see ’em hustling and bustling about you can bet the company is losing money, ’cause something has gone wrong. But when they loll back and take it easy everything is going all hunkey dory. And—and you thought—ha! ha! There! I’ll laff no more. And the wheels were still! Ha! ha! ha! Don’t, please don’t leave me. I’ll quit; honest I will, but if you only knew how funny it is. Wheels stopped. Ha! ha! ha!”
“What is there funny about idle engine wheels?” demanded Stanley, now thoroughly irritated.
“They—they was using water power and saving seventy-five dollars a day,” feebly explained Bub. “If they could have water power the year ’round it would be a gold mine. Later, when the streams narrow up, they’ll have to use them wheels you saw idle and it’ll cost them seventy—five dollars for each day. Now, Stan, we’re friends again. You know I’m go-
