"And the maximum grades?"
"Suitable for freight haulage to this point. We run with the water," added Clark with one of his rare smiles, "you ought to know that."
"About thirty thousand a mile," answered Belding steadily, the trouble being that when his chief's imagination took strong hold of him he was apt to diverge from the point.
"Then you will send out survey parties and get detailed estimates when the surveys are in."
"How far is the road to run? The head waters of the Magwa are one hundred and fifty miles from its mouth."
Clark's lips tightened a little. "As far as the pulp wood is good. I don't care how far that is—and, Belding—"
"Yes, sir."
"I have decided to double the size of the mill. Let me have plans and estimates for that too."
Belding went on, his head swimming, and walked slowly toward the head gates through which Lake Superior flowed obediently to do Clark's will. It seemed now that his chief had reached the point where the god in the machine must make some grievous error. He was insatiable. Presently two figures approached. One was Judge Worden, the other a girl. The former waved his stick.
"We're going to see Mr. Clark. Elsie, this is Mr. Belding."