“Looks like it orter be as thick as mush if you can run a few thousand yards of that there pay-streak over it.” There was a mocking look in Smaltz’s yellow-brown eyes which Bruce, stooping over, did not see. He only heard the hopeful words.
“Oh, Smaltz—Smaltz—if it only is! Success means so much to me!” Unaccountably, such a tide of feeling rose within him that Bruce bared his heart to the man he did not like.
Smaltz looked at him with a curious soberness.
“Does it?” he responded after a pause.
“And I’ve tried so hard.”
“You’ve sure worked like a horse.” There was a look that was half pity, half grudging admiration on Smaltz’s impudent face.
Banule was to run the power-house for the day and complete some work inside, so when Bruce had finished with the mercury he told Smaltz to telephone Banule from the pump-house that they were ready to start. Therefore while Bruce took his place at the lever on the donkey-engine enclosed in a temporary shed to protect the motor from rain and dust, Smaltz went to the pump-house as he was bid.
When Banule answered his ring he shouted:
“Let her go in about two minutes—two minutes—d’ye hear?” The telephone receiver was shaking in Smaltz’s hand and he was breathing hard.
“Yes,” Banule answered irritably, “but don’t yell so in my ear.”