Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1897-09-30

WHAT can you do?.
I'm just out of college," Willis said
ana Ill nave to do most anything 7
can get to do"
l suppose you are well up in ten
mis- and football and leaping the mole
and all that sort of thing"
Yes, sir, responded Willis tomn+
ed again to turn and leave the room
We'll. / don't happen to have anv
OF those things in my business. Yon
know, l am engaged in the MANN
facture and sale of lumber. It's very
prosaic-you can't wear white trou-
sers-might get soiled."
Willis kept his temper, although ev-
cry one of his uncle's words stung him
to the quick.
Il understand all that he said
"and I am willing to do anything from
wood-sawing up that will enable me To
save little money"
"Wood-sawing, eh?' said Judson
Hardacre, and the grim smile again
curled his lips. ''Let me see your
hands,"
Willis held out his hands-they
were certainly rather small and white.
although tennis playing had worn
few hard callouses on the right palm.
L thought so," said Uncle Judson:
tennis hands, eh?"
"They may be soft now, but I as
sure you, Uncle Judson, I am not
afraid of any kind of work which will
help me finish my course"
At the sound of the unfamiliar
words, Uncle Judson," Judson Hard
acre glanced up sharply, and then he
said rather more gruffiy than before:
"Well, I'll take you at your word.
Times are dull, and haven't much of
anything else besides chopping and
Saving"
Judson Hardacre pressed button
and tall, quiet man with pen thrust
behind his ear stepped in to the room.
"Calkins, this Is Willis Everett. He
will go to work tomorrow morning at
the Edwardsburg mill at $50 a month
He will board at the company's hotel.
Have him report to Matthews. Let
me know each week how he is doing"
I'm very much obliged to you"
Willis faltered, hardly realizing that
at last he had found job.
Don't thank me yet" said his
uncle, almost gruf11y; "you may not
want to after you have been working
for awhile"
Willis went home in high spirits.
Mother, mother" he called; 1--WE
80 S<Ho 90 S0h
Gle Judson, too"
That afternoon Willis packed his
satchel and took the train down the
valley for Johannesburg, where the
Hardacre mills were located. 1t was
about twenty-five miles from home,
and he had never been in the place
except on his bicycle, and he hardly
knew where the mills were located.
But he found them easily enough, and
with them the foreman, Matthew'S
big, red-faced, stoop-shouldered giant
with voice like foghorn, Matthews
read the letter, and then glanced at
Willis keenly and half contemptuous-
ly, Willis thought.
"Well," he said; "be on hand at
o'clock tomorrow morning and I'll
put you to work"
Willis found place In the COM
panys boarding house-a single bunk
in an attic room with four other men.
The walls were dingy, the floor was
covered with coarse mating and the
bedding did not look any too clean.
One little cobwebby window COM
manded a view of vast heap OF saw
dust and slabs. Supper was served on
a long table covered with oilcloth, and
the tea was brought in by men walters
who laughed and joked one another.
The workmen came in with their
sleeves rolled up, and ate almost In
silence.
In the morning Willis was set to
loading slabs from the waste pile into
box car which stood on siding
near at hand. One man handed them
down from the pile, second tossed
them into the car and a third corded
them up. Willis was given the easiest
job-that of piling-but he was COM
PEELED to keep up with the other two.
The sliyers stuck into his soft palms
and the Jagged bark bruised his arms
Besides that it was a hot June day
without a breath Of air stirring In the
car. For an hour or two he stood It
pretty we'll, but before noon he began
to feel that he should drop In his
tracks, but he was determined never
to give up. He was cog in the ma
chinery of the big mill, and he pro-
posed to do his duty until he broke
down. Never was sweeter music than
the sound of the noon whistle. he
YEARLY dropped the last slab ana
staggered into the dining-room OF the
boarding house. At first he was too
tired IN eat. but he managed to swal-
low a little dinner, and by O'Clock ne
felt better. But he knew ne never
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