To Him That Hath: a Tale of the West of Today by Pseudonym Ralph Connor
page 24 of 328 (07%)
page 24 of 328 (07%)
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THE COST OF SACRIFICE
Perrotte was by all odds the best all-round man in the planing mill, and for the simple reason that for fifteen years he had followed the lumber from the raw wood through the various machines till he knew woods and machines and their ways as no other in the mill unless it was old Grant Maitland himself. Fifteen years ago Perrotte had drifted down from the woods, beating his way on a lumber train, having left his winter's pay behind him at the verge of civilisation, with old Joe Barbeau and Joe's "chucker out." It was the "chucker out" that dragged him out of the "snake room" and, all unwitting, had given him a flying start toward a better life. Perrotte came to Maitland when the season's work was at its height and every saw and planer were roaring night and day. "Want a job?" Maitland had shouted over the tearing saw at him. "What can you do?" "(H)axe-man me," growled Perrotte, looking up at him, half wistful, half sullen. "See that slab? Grab it, pile it yonder. The boards, slide over the shoot." For these were still primitive days for labor-saving devices, and men were still the cheapest thing about a mill. Perrotte grabbed the slab, heaved it down to its pile of waste, the next board he slid into the shoot, and so continued till noon found him pale and staggering. "What's the matter with you?" said Maitland. |
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