“Livingston,” the Scout official supplied. “Excuse me for not introducing myself and the other members of my party. Seeing you instead of my friend, rather gave me a jolt.”
“I can imagine,” the other rejoined coldly. “I’m McClellan Rhodes.”
“I guessed it,” Mr. Livingston returned. “You say you’re in charge here? The company reassigned you?”
The engineer gazed at the Scout official with defiant, unwavering eyes. “I took charge when I found everything going to the dogs here,” he informed the group. “Someone had to do it, you understand. If I had waited to get authority from the company, the workers would have been gone, and the mine stripped.”
“Where is Mr. Corning?”
“I wish I knew.”
“When did you take over here?” Mr. Livingston demanded. His voice was sharper than he meant it to be.
“About ten days ago.”
“Mr. Corning wasn’t here when you came?”
“He was not. As I told you, I found everything in a mess—workers preparing to pull out. I stepped in to save the mine for the owners.”