don’t break no bones or float logs. Why, my son, when you git use to it you’ll go ’round feeling real lonely, when the cook stops jawing you.” Then sagely, “You see, Stan, there never was a cook but what gits filled up with hot air from the cooking, and if he don’t let off steam he’ll bust, and then the whole settlement goes hungry. If you was over to Number One or Two you’d find either cook a heap worse’n this one.”
“Are there more boarding houses?” faltered Stanley.
“Three of ’em., This is the best, though. The saw gangs live here and the teamsters. Over to One and Two you git the loggers and the foreigners. The loggers are all right, but they’ve blown their winter wages and their drive wages and they feel out of sorts. One of ’em threw a cup at me once and cut my head open.”
“I’m tired. May I go to bed?” humbly asked Stanley.
“Sure. Of course you’re tired; I ought to have remembered. Go ahead up and take either the front or back side of the bed. Most of the men have bunks, but we officers have to throw on style. I’ll bring the alarm clock so you can git up in time.”
