you suggest. Now, I’ll return to my car and see if I can get a little peace and quiet.”
As Hatton was politely opening the door for him Abner stepped across the threshold and dropped his knapsack into a chair.
“I’ll receive your report later, Abner,” informed Hatton.
“Abner? Abner who?” quickly asked the president, turning. “What do you do, Abner?”
“Who might ye be?” asked Abner.
“I might be a wise man and surrounded by intelligent foremen. But I’m simply the president of the company that runs these mills here.”
“Wal, if it’s yer company what pays my wages I’ll say my name is Abner Whitten, timber cruiser and walking-boss fer the Great Northern. I am now ready to report on the Flat-Top ridge matter.”
“He’s the cruiser I was speaking of,” hastily explained Hatton, wishing to be rid of the veteran for fear the president would change his mind and become irascible again.
“Huh!” exclaimed the president, moving back to his chair. “Well, go ahead. I’m the boss here now. What did you find?”
