Already, he was revolving a spur he was planning for Oaxaca, in Southern Mexico. An inspiration had come to him on his walk from The Rosales that morning. His pencil made some rapid calculations.
A few minutes later he glanced up at the clock, and saw Rickard standing, as at attention.
“Ah!” He allowed his absorption to betray him.
“I should be off,” discovered Rickard.
“Oh, no,” replied the president of several railroads, looking at the clock again.
“Any instructions?”
“Just stop that river!”
Rickard again had a humorous vision of himself, asked to take away a bursting hose from a garden bed. “How am I limited?” he persisted. He stooped for his straw hat.
Marshall, still intrigued by his figures, looked up patiently, inquiringly, nibbling the end of his pencil.
“The expense?” demanded the engineer. “How far can I go?”