AN INTERVIEW WITH ULMER BALASCO
"Here we are on the Columbia at last!" cried Dale, in the morning, a
couple of days later. The train had come up from Pendleton and struck
the river at Umatilla. Again they saw a broad sheet of water, but this
time hemmed in by a gorgeous cañon, overgrown with heavy brushwood and
trees of large size. The railroad runs along the south bank of the
river, through the cañon, and passes over Willow Creek, John Day and
Deschuttes rivers, and numerous other streams.
Portland is the great lumber center of Oregon, and the distance to this
city from Umatilla is about a hundred and seventy-five miles, as the
river runs. But the young lumbermen were not going to Portland. Instead
they were to stop off at a small station called Tunley, at a point
where the Columbia made a slight turn to the northward. Here there was
something of a cove, and beyond this a creek running up to the property
owned by the Wilbur-Balasco Company, who also had a large "yard" at
this point on the big waterway.
The ride along the riverside to Tunley was a picturesque one, and the
young lumbermen were astonished when the brakeman called out the name
of the station for which they were bound.
"Here we are, Dale!" cried Owen, as he reached for his valise. "We'd
better step lively, for they don't stop over an hour at such a
settlement as this."
They were soon on the depot platform, and their trunks were handed
out after them. Their arrival was unexpected, and the station master
and the half dozen rough-looking men standing around gazed at them
speculatively. Then the express went on its way, leaving them to do for
themselves in this strange spot, three thousand miles from their home
in Maine.
Tunley consisted of a depot, a general store, a combination hotel and
barroom, and half a dozen cabins, the homes of the men who looked after
the lumber in the yard and along the creek. It was a flat, hot place,
with the cañon wall to the east and the west, the broad river in front,
and the split of the creek in the rear. The creek was a winding one,
and on either side grew clumps of small firs. There had been big firs
there years before, but these had all been cut down for timber long ago.
"This is the station for the Wilbur-Balasco Company's camp, isn't it?"
said Owen to the station master, by way of an opening.
"It is," was the answer, and the railroad man looked them over with a
keen eye. "Bound for that place, I reckon?"
"We are. How far is it?"
"The lower yard is about four miles up yonder creek. The other yards
are two and three miles further. The railroad runs down to the upper
bend of the creek, two miles from town. If you hoof it that far, I
reckon you can get a ride on the engine the rest of the way. But
perhaps you want hosses. If so, you can hire a couple over to Shanley's
barroom."
"I'd just as lief walk, if it's only two miles," said Dale. "I'd like
the ride on the engine."
The station master laughed. "Don't think it's such a road as you've
just left," he said. "On the curves it's enough to knock out your
teeth. But, even so, it's better than walking."
"We'll leave the trunks on check for the present," said Owen. "And our
valises, too."
"All right, throw the bags in the room yonder--nobody around here will
touch 'em--and I'll put the trunks in alongside. If you'd come in half
an hour sooner you could have ridden up with Jake Powell in the big
wagon. He was down here for flour that came in on the morning freight."
"Do you know if Mr. Balasco is up at the camp?" asked Dale, seeing that
the station master was inclined to be talkative.
"Yes, he went up yesterday. He was down to Portland three or four
days." The railroad man looked at them again. "You look as if you might
be a couple of lumbermen."
"That is what we are, and we're here to look for a job," answered Owen.
"We come from Maine."
"Great hossflies! Maine! You didn't travel none to get here, I reckon."
"We didn't come right through--we stopped off for a spell in Michigan."
"Would you like to meet some of the boys around here? If so, I'll call
'em up, and introduce you over to Shanley's, too."
Owen felt that it would be quite the proper thing, according to the
idea of many, to invite all hands to "have something" at his expense.
But, as we know, he did not drink, nor did Dale, and both were resolved
to give the barroom a wide berth.
"Thanks," he said. "But I guess we had better go right up to the camp
and see Mr. Balasco. The train was late, you know."
"All right, just as you say. But the boys----" The station master said
no more. "They're tender-foots and young--let them have their way,"
was his thought.
The roadway along the creek-side was rough and full of stones, with
here and there a hollow, deep with mud. The undergrowth was rank, and
stumps of immense trees stuck up everywhere. Nothing had been cleared,
according to the notions of these young Down-Easters, and everything
was in sad need of "sprucing-up," as Dale expressed it. In some spots
trees of fair size had been cut down and left to decay, instead of
being sawed up into boards or shingles.
"This shows how wasteful man gets when he has all he wants," said
Owen. "You wouldn't find so much timber going to waste anywhere in New
England--stuff is too hard to get."
The murmur of the creek was very pleasant, and in one spot they came
to a rocky spring, from which a stream of water as large as one's
hand poured forth. The water was both clear and cold, and each of the
travelers satisfied his thirst eagerly.
"This is better than visiting that hot and dirty-looking barroom at the
hotel," was Dale's comment. "How men can hang around such places day
and night is more than I can understand."
"They want company as much as anything, Dale. They get lonely in the
woods and come here for companionship. I don't really believe that one
in ten wants the liquor he pours down."
"Perhaps he doesn't when he starts, but he soon looks for it--make no
mistake on that point--and then he finds it is too late to break away
and give up the habit."
Presently the pair heard the distant toot of a locomotive and the
rattle of a lumber train as it passed over a trestle. Clearing a clump
of timber, they came out into an opening, and saw at the upper end a
lumber yard, with the railroad tracks running into it in fan shape. At
the yard was a tiny turn-table for the engines, and half a dozen sheds
for various purposes. A train had just come in, carrying twenty-odd
tree trunks, each of good length, and from five to eight feet in
diameter.
"There is timber for you!" cried Dale. "I'll tell you what, there are a
heap of boards in one of those sticks."
"Not to say anything about shingles," put in Owen.
An empty train of cars was on the point of leaving the yard, and the
young lumbermen rushed up to the locomotive and hailed the engineer.
"We want to see Mr. Balasco," said Owen. "Can we ride up to the camp
with you?"
"Certainly; jump up on that flat car, and hold on tight," was the
answer, and they leaped to the car mentioned. Soon the train had
started, and they were jouncing along on the road, up grade and down,
and around many a sharp turn, where the car wheels creaked and groaned
as if in pain. As the station master had said, it was enough to knock
out their teeth, and they could do but little talking en route. The
locomotive was an odd-looking affair, quite different from any they had
yet seen, and so were many of the trucks--used instead of flat cars for
long sticks.
The ride soon came to an end, and they found themselves almost at the
door of a long, low building, bearing the sign, Wilbur-Balasco Lumber
Company--Offices.
"Here we are," said Owen. "Come on," and he entered the building
boldly, with Dale at his heels. A clerk was present, figuring at a set
of books, and a tall, heavy-set man, with a dark face and sharp black
eyes, sat by a window, reading a lumbermen's journal.
As the young lumbermen came in, neither the clerk at the books nor the
man who was reading looked up. Both waited just inside of the door a
full minute.
"The price on that timber went up, just as I said it would," exclaimed
the man who was reading, presently. He glanced toward the clerk, and
in so doing caught sight of Owen and Dale. "Hullo! What can I do for
you?" he went on.
"We are looking for Mr. Ulmer Balasco," said Owen.
"That's my handle, young man."
"We are out of employment and thought you might have an opening for
us," continued Owen, as he came closer, for Mr. Balasco did not offer
to rise from his chair.
"Hum! I don't know about that." Ulmer Balasco turned to his
book-keeper. "Nixon, are any of the gangs short of hands?"
"Not according to Monday morning's report," was the short reply of the
clerk.
"Then I don't see----" Ulmer Balasco appeared to muse for a moment.
"What can you do? Had any experience? Where did you come from?"
"We've worked around lumber camps and sawmills for several years," said
Owen.
"And we've come all the way from Maine to try our luck here," put in
Dale. "We carry a letter of recommendation from your partner, Mr.
Jefferson Wilbur."
At the mention of Jefferson Wilbur's name, Ulmer Balasco suddenly arose.
"Did he send you out here?" he asked abruptly.
"Not exactly, sir," said Owen. "We tried our luck in Michigan before
we came here. But Mr. Wilbur helped us with our tickets to Oregon,
and gave us a recommendation to you. Perhaps you had better read the
letter."
"I will."
Ulmer Balasco read the communication with close attention, rubbing his
chin reflectively as he did so. Then he cleared his throat several
times.
"I see Mr. Wilbur recommends you very strongly," he began. "He says
both of you did him a great service. May I ask what that was?"
In a few simple words, Dale told of the forest fire, and of how Owen
and himself had rescued the Wilbur children.
"Oh, yes, I heard of that!" cried Ulmer Balasco, and for some reason he
appeared more at ease. "No wonder Mr. Wilbur recommends you. I'll have
to see what I can do. You say you know the business?"
"We do--according to the way they work in Maine," answered Owen. "Here
are our other recommendations," and he brought them forth.
"Those are all good enough, and I reckon you'll fill the bill--if there
is any to fill. You can put up here at the camp for the present, and
I'll do what I can for you in the morning."