“I'm mighty glad, Tom, that General Manager Ellsworth isn't out here to see how many dozens of steel piles we're feeding hopelessly to the Man-killer.”
“Not one of those piles is going down hopelessly,” Tom retorted. “Some of the piles may disappear, and never be seen again, but each one will help hold the drift at some point, near the surface, or perhaps a thousand feet below the surface.”
“Only a thousand feet below the surface!” Harry grunted. “Tom, I often feel certain that the Man-killer extends away down to the center of the earth and up again on the other side. Before I'm a very old man I expect to hear that several of our steel piles have shot up above the surface in China or India.”
Hearing the noise of horse's hoofs behind him, Tom turned. He beheld Fred Ransom riding out to the spot on a mottled “calico” horse.
“Look who's here,” Reade murmured to his chum.
“What are you going to do with him?” asked Hazelton, after a quick look. “Run him off the line?”
“I don't know,” Tom answered slowly. “Ransom is trying hard to earn a living, you know.”
Harry snorted. That sort of estimation of Ransom, even as a joke, was a little too much for him.
“Mighty hot day, Reade,” called Ransom, as he reined in near the young engineers.
“Yes,” said Tom slowly. “If I were enjoying myself beside a bottle of cold soda on the Mansion House porch I don't believe I'd have the energy to call for a horse and ride all the way out here in the heat.”
“Am I intruding?” demanded Ransom, with a swift, keen glance at the young chief engineer.
“Oh, no, indeed!” came Tom's response. “You're as welcome as the flowers in spring.”
“Thank you. It's a fine job you're doing out here.”
“Now it's my turn to extend my thanks to you,” Tom drawled. “Your praise is all the more appreciated as coming from a competitor.”
“A competitor!” asked Ransom quickly, and with a half scowl. “I'm not an engineer.”
“Your people are ranked as pretty fair engineers,” Reade rejoined.
“My people? What do you mean, Reade? There isn't an engineer in our family.”
“No; but the Colthwaite Company employs a good many engineers,” Tom suggested.
“Colthwaite?” repeated Ransom, now on his guard. “I have nothing to do with that concern.”
“No?” asked Tom, as though greatly astonished. “Why, that's strange.”