noon
Then I entered the lumber camp . It was even worse-looking than the slash . Rows of dirty tents , lines of squatty log-cabins , and many flat-board houses clustered around an immense sawmill . Evidently I had arrived at the noon hour , for the mill was not running , and many rough men were lounging about smoking pipes . At the door of the first shack stood a fat , round-faced Negro wearing a long , dirty apron . `` Is Dick Leslie here ? '' I asked .