Stanley halted and raised his eyes. Before him was a collection of long buildings and small mountains of sawdust, while the soft spring breeze brought to his nostrils the aroma of the lumber.
“Them two over there are the sawmills. Next is the pulp mill, the brick one, and across the way are the three boarding houses and the company’s store and offices,” explained Bub, a proud note in his voice as he remembered he was a part of the busy industry.
“What’s the name of the company?” idly asked Stanley.
“Great Scott! but you are a cool one,” admired Bub. “Here you’ve come way up here to git a job, have given your last doller to Frenchy, and you don’t even know the name of the Great Northern Lumber and Paper company.”
“I’ve heard the name several times,” puzzled Stanley, frowning as he attempted to recall when and where.
“You have!” jeered Bub. “That’s mighty nice of you. Why, don’t you know we are the biggest thing in the lumber and paper game and that we cut, all told, more’n four hundred million a year?”
“Of what?” innocently inquired Stanley.
