Part 26 (1/2)
”How about Ashton's contract?”
”He'll be satisfied with the glory. Reports will continue to name him as Resident Engineer. If he won't listen to reason, I'll ask his father to drop him a line. The young fool has had his allowance cut twice already. He'd consider his pay as engineer a bare pittance.”
”Heir to the Ashton millions, eh?” croaked Griffith.
”If I know George Ashton, he has a good safe will drawn, providing that his fortune is to be held in trust. That fool boy won't have any chance to squander more than his allowance,--and he won't keep me now from paying off this obligation to Blake.”
”Perhaps not. I'm not so sure, though, that Tom will--One thing's certain. He won't go up to Michamac right away.”
”He won't? Why not? It's just the time for him to get the run of things, now while there's no work going on.”
”He'd catch on quick enough. It's not that. Fact is, he's got hold of something a lot bigger, and I know he'll not quit till he has either won out or it has downed him. Never knew of but one thing that ever downed him.”
Mr. Leslie glared at the engineer, his face reddening with rage.
”Something bigger!” he repeated. ”So the fellow has bragged about it!”
Griffith stared back, perplexed by the other's sudden heat. ”Guess we've got our wires crossed,” he said. ”I told him, of course. He didn't know anything about it.”
”What you talking about?” demanded Mr. Leslie, puzzled in turn.
”The Zariba Dam.”
”That!” exclaimed Mr. Leslie, and his face cleared. ”H'm,--what about the dam?”
”I had about thrown it up. I'm giving Tom a go at it.”
Mr. Leslie's eyebrows bristled in high curves.
”What! wasting time with a man like that? If _you've_ given it up, we'll try England or Europe.”
”No use. Plenty of good men over there. They can give us pointers on some things. But if they've ever done anything just like this Zariba Dam, they've kept it out of print.”
”But an unknown second-rate engineer!”
”That's what's said of every first-rater till he gets his chance.”
”You're serious?”
”I don't guarantee he can do it. I do say, I won't be any too surprised if he pulls it off. It's a thing that calls for invention. He'll swear he hasn't an ounce of it in him--says he just happens to blunder on things, or applies what he has picked up. All gas! He once showed me some musty old drawings that made it look like one of his grandfathers ought to be credited with the basic inventions of a dozen machines that to-day are making the owners of the patent-rights rich. Guess some of that grandfather's b.u.mp can be located on Tom's head.”
”Inventor--h'm--inventor!” muttered Mr. Leslie half to himself. ”That puts rather a different face on that bridge matter.”
”As how?” casually asked Griffith, beginning to sc.r.a.pe afresh at his pipe-bowl.
Mr. Leslie considered, and replied with another question: ”At the time of the compet.i.tion in plans for the bridge, did you know that Blake was to be a contestant?”
”He writes letters about as often as a hen gets a tooth pulled. But I got a letter the time you mention,--a dozen lines or so, with another added, saying that he was in for a whirl at the Michamac cantilever.”
”You've shown him Ashton's bridge plans?”