CHAPTER XXIII
HOW DOROTHY BLEW THE EMBERS ALIVE
The railway inspection party of which the chief engineer was a member did not return to Denver until late in the afternoon, and by consequence Brant wore out the day like a caged wild beast, tramping miles on end up and down the long apartment which served as a workroom in the chief engineer’s suite. Not once during the lagging hours did he uncover the drawing-board; but on the other hand, if he did not work, neither did he put himself in the way of temptation, spirituous or other. It was as if he had promised himself that he would quit clean-handed and clear-headed; that, until the colonel should release him, he would remain, as nearly as might be, the man whom the colonel had befriended.
The day was drawing to its close when the burly little man who was partial to college graduates bustled in and struggled out of his greatcoat. Brant assaulted promptly, saying what had to be said in terms of the simplest. He had made up his mind to leave Denver at once, and he would be glad if the colonel would give him his quittance and let him go.
The struggle with the greatcoat paused in the midst, and the burly one, who knew a capable man when he found him, protested vigorously:
“What’s that? Leave me just when I am beginning to know what a comfort it is to have you about? What’s gone wrong with you? Is it too much work, or not enough pay?”
“It is neither; it is nothing that you have done, or failed to do, my dear colonel. On the contrary, your kindness will be one of the things that I shall always be glad to remember. But I have never been able to stay long in any one place, and the time has come for me to move on.”
“But surely, my dear boy, you haven’t taken time to think about it! Why, it was only yesterday that you seemed perfectly contented.”
“I know; but I have been thinking about it for a week or more. I am afraid I can’t reconsider.”
“Well, well, I’m sorry; only that doesn’t half express it. I hope you haven’t to go right away. You can stay on a few days till I can look around a bit, can’t you?”
“I am sorry to have to say that I can’t do even that,” Brant began, and just here the entrance of the postman interrupted the colloquy. There were letters—several for the colonel and one for the draughtsman. Brant opened and read his, while the chief engineer hastily glanced through the others. Brant’s was a dainty note, and it appeared to move him strangely. His cheek flushed under the bronze, and his eyes kindled as he read; and when the talk was presently renewed he promptly stultified himself.