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The Boss of Wind River   By: (1872-1960)

The Boss of Wind River by Arthur M. Chisholm

First Page:

THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER

[Illustration: The girl caught Joe's arm. "It's going out, Joe! It's going out! Oh, see it pull!"]

THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER

BY

A. M. CHISHOLM

ILLUSTRATED

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION TO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY STREET & SMITH

ILLUSTRATIONS

The girl caught Joe's arm. "It's going out, Joe! It's going out! Oh, see it pull!"

Miss Crooks came down the walk to meet him ... "I'm so glad to see you, Joe. I've been looking for you for days"

Haggarty and Rough Shan, locked in a deadly grip, fought like bulldogs

"There's the line. Cross it to night or try to scrap with McCane's crew before I tell you to, and I'll shut down"

I

As young Joe Kent entered the office of the Kent Lumber Company at nine o'clock he was conscious of a sudden pause in the morning's work. He felt rather than saw that the eyes of every employee were fixed upon him with an interest he had never before excited. And the quality of this interest, as he felt it, was curiously composite. In it there was a new respect, but mingled with misgivings; a sympathy repressed by the respect; a very dubious weighing of him, a comparison, a sizing up a sort of mental shake of the head, as if the chances were in favour of his proving decidedly light in the balance; and running through it all was a waiting expectancy, frankly tinged with curiosity.

Kent nodded a somewhat embarrassed, comprehensive good morning, and as he did so a thick set, grizzled man came forward and shook hands. This was Wright, the office and mill manager.

"The personal and important mail is on your desk, Mr. Kent," he said. "Later I suppose you will want to go into the details of the business."

"I expect Mr. Locke about ten o'clock," Kent replied. "I thought we might have a little talk together then, if you have time."

Wright smiled a little sadly. "My time is yours, you know. Just let me know when you want me."

Kent opened the door of the private office that had been his father's, stepped in, and shut it. He glanced half expectantly at the big, leather cushioned revolving chair behind the broad, flat topped desk on which the morning's mail lay neatly stacked. The chair was empty. It came to him in a keen, stabbing pain that whenever in future he should enter this office which was now his, the chair would be empty that the big, square, kindly, keen eyed man whose business throne it had been would sit in it no more.

He seated himself at the desk, branded to right and left by countless cigars carelessly laid down, and drew the pile of correspondence to him. The topmost envelope bore no stamp, and as he saw his name upon it in the familiar, bold handwriting, his heart pounded and a lump rose in his throat. The fingers which slid a paper cutter beneath the flap were a trifle unsteady. He read:

My Dear Boy: Locke will see that you get this when I have gone out. It is just a little personal note which I like to think you will be glad to read.

I am not going to begin by apologizing for the fact that I leave behind me less money than most people, including myself, expected. There will be enough to give you a start and keep you hustling, which will do you no harm. You'll find it easier to hustle now than later. But, nevertheless, a word of explanation is due you.

As you grow older you will observe that when the ordinary man acquires a comfortable stack at his own game he is seized with an unaccountable desire to play another man's game, at which he usually loses. It turned out so with me. I know the logging business; but I didn't know, and don't know, the stock market. I lost and I have no kick coming. It serves me right, but it may be a little hard on you... Continue reading book >>




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