" He turned suddenly to Bob. "How long do you
think it would take you with a crew of a dozen men to cut and pile the
waste stuff in 18?" he inquired.
Bob cast back the eye of his recollection to the hopeless tangle that
cumbered the ground.
"Oh, Lord!" he ejaculated; "don't ask me!"
"If you were running a business would you feel like stopping work and
sending your men--whom you are feeding and paying--back there to pile up
that old truck?"
Bob's mind, trained to the eager hurry of the logging season, recoiled
from this idea in dismay.
"I should say not!" he cried. Then as a second thought he added: "But
what they want is to pile the tops while the work is going on."
"It takes just so much time to do so much work," stated Welton
succinctly, "and it don't matter whether you do it all at once, or try
to fool yourself by spraddling it out."
He pulled strongly at his pipe.
"Forest Reserves are all right enough," he acknowledged, "and maybe some
day their theories will work out. But not now; not while taxes go on!"
III
One day, not over a week later, Bob working in the woods, noticed
California John picking his way through the new slashing.
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