“Mr. Bartlett,” he said, “I see you are all ready to fire up.”
“At a minute’s notice,” replied the foreman, with a gleam of pride in his eye.
“I suppose within an hour, two hours, you could get those melters so hot they are red all through?”
“Pretty nigh, I tell you.”
“And you could fill this room here with fumes that would make a man hesitate about crossing the dead line, until you got ready to shut off the feeders?”
“You couldn’t hit it closer if you’d been brought up to the business,” declared the foreman with unction.
“Good. Now then--whisper.”
They were near the office door. Ralph talked rapidly in a low tone into the ear of his companion. The latter gave a great start. Then he grinned. Then, alive with animation, he clapped Ralph mightily on the back.
“Lad,” he cried with enthusiasm, “you’re better than the lawyer and the whole constable force of Derby put together.”
“What do you say about my plan?” inquired Ralph.