“In one of Dargin’s card-rooms. We mixed it. I couldn’t stand for the gun-pulling—and some other things. He tried to plug me, but I’m hoping he got as good as he sent. Anyhow, I’ve cleared the air a bit. I’ve taken the liberty of borrowing your extra forty-five, and I’m going loaded for him after this. I’ve told him what he may expect if he shows his face on this job again while I’m here.”
“For heaven’s sake! I—well, it isn’t my put in, but you’ve rather got me going, you know. Can you—er—do you know how to use the forty-five?”
“Not very well; I did a little pistol-practice in Florida. But to-morrow you’ll take me back in the hills and show me a bit. Just now we’ve got other fish to fry. We’re going to fight Lushing on his own ground. He says we’re a gang of thieves, and if we have the name, we may as well have the game.”
“But even if you’ve bluffed him into staying off the job, he still has the ear of the railroad people.”
“That’s all right; I’ll fight him to a knockout, all the way up to Mr. Ford—if he wants to carry it that far. In the meantime we’ll show him, and the men who are paying his salary, that we know how to hit back when they call us thieves. Pass the word to our staff, and let the fellows pass it on to the foremen and subcontractors. They’ll know how to cut the corners, and how to keep the railroad inspectors from finding out—no coarse-hand work, you know, Plegg, but every dollar that can be squeezed out of this job from now on. That’s what we want.”
Plegg was shaking his head like a man in a maze; and the new chief—new now in his attitude as well as in the shortness of his service—went on.
“About that weak spot in the tunnel; have you found out who gave it away to Dargin?”
“Yes; a fellow named Backus, who worked in one of the muck shifts. The men say he was a steerer for Dargin’s faro-game.”
“What has become of him?”
“He’s fired: I suppose he’s in Powder Can.”