The Rigger and the Greenhorn

By [http://ezinearticles.com/?expert=Les_McMillan]Les McMillan
My name is Les McMillan, and I would now be considered an 'old-time' logger. Many years ago, I was a greenhorn, a real babe- in- the- woods. It was at a logging camp at Kelsey Bay, Vancouver Island. I was not a complete greenhorn, for I had worked as a whistlepunk for a few months (see my 'Whistlepunk' story for more on that). The boss sent me to join the 'Bull-gang', a rag-tag assortment of greenhorns whose job was doing all the mindless jobs that regular loggers wouldn't stoop to doing. We were to coil up lines, move machines, rig spar trees, raise spar trees, string lines out to the back end, you name it.
The boss of the Bullgang was the 'rigger', and his name was Bill Cousins. He was an old-time logger and one of the smartest, wood-wise loggers I have ever run into. He was the one who would climb a 4 or 5 foot diameter tree, chop off limbs as he climbed, and then saw off the top at about 135 feet, swaying wildly from side to side as the top kicked away. He would then attach 'guylines', blocks, (you'd call them pulleys), and thread lines through the blocks. All this equipment was called the 'rigging', so he was called the 'rigger'.
The first day on the job, he asked my name. I said, "Les McMillan," and he said, "I'll call you 'Mac." I was 20 years old and looked about 16, an obvious greenhorn. None of the other 6 or 7 guys on the crew had any previous woods experience, so we were all greenhorns to Bill. We were rigging a spar tree, and after an hour or so, Bill called me over and said, "Hey, Mac, we need a hindu really bad, so would you drive my pickup in to camp, see the blacksmith, and tell him I need a hindu."
I wasn't a complete greehorn, and knew that the Hindu he asked for was not an East Indian gentleman. It was a small circle of 1/2 inch steel cable with a hook spliced in to it and was used to join two lines together. I had heard that this joke was tried on greenhorns sometimes, so I thought I would go along with it and have some fun with Bill.
I drove to camp, found the blacksmith and told him the story. He replied, "That old so-and-so, we'll get him good this time." We marched over to the cookhouse and asked the cook if we could borrow the second cook for an hour or so. After hearing the reason, he heartily agreed.
The second cook was a young Chinese fellow. We drove back to the work site, and as we got nearer I had the young lad scrunch down below the dashboard. As I drove up close to Bill, he hollered out, "Well, Mac, did you get that hindu for me? "I replied, with a straight face, "Gee, Bill, I couldn't find a Hindu anywhere in camp, so I brought you a Chinaman instead. Is that alright?" With that the young lad jumped out of the pickup with a huge grin on his face.
Bill exploded! His face turned red, his eyes glared at me, he threw his hardhat to the ground and shouted, "You rotten little so-and-so, you knew all along that I was playing a joke on you! I ought to kick your rear end for that!" I could see that old Bill had a temper, so I started backing away, saying, "Well, Bill, I guess the joke's on you now!"
By this time, the Chinaman and the crew were all laughing at this turn of events. Bill looked around and then he started to giggle, and then laughed and laughed and laughed. Wiping tears from his eyes, he said "You're right, Mac, I had it coming! I like you. You've got spunk and brains and a sense of humour. You are going to be my right-hand man from now on. I'm promoting you to 'Chaser' right now."
He then turned to all the crew, and told them, "Any time I am not here, Mac is in charge, and you damn well better listen to him or answer to me!" He also let me drive the crew bus, which gave me extra money also!
The lesson learned here is - don't be surprised if your 'trick' backfires on you. In this case it worked to my advantage!
Prestige, power, and extra pay, all because of a thing called a 'hindu'.
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