“Wake up, Reade,” ordered Rutter, at last shaking the cub and hauling him to his feet. “This is no place to sleep. Go to your tent and stretch out full length on your cot.”
“On my cot?” demanded Tom, rubbing his eyes fiercely. “You can’t spare me from the day’s work?”
“I don’t believe there will be any day’s work,” Rutter answered.
“You’re in charge, man! You must put us to work,” Tom insisted.
“I don’t know just what ought to be done,” complained Rutter. “I shall have to wait for orders.”
“Orders?” repeated Tom, in almost breathless scorn. “From whom can you get orders?”
“Howe is Thurston’s assistant at the lower camp,” Rutter rejoined. “He’ll have to come over here and take real charge. I’m going to send a messenger to the telegraph station and wire Mr. Howe to come here at once.”
“See here, Rutter,” blazed Tom insistently, “Mr Howe is in charge of the construction forces. He’s laying the bed and the tracks. He can’t be spared from the construction work for even a day, or the road will fail to get through, no matter what we do here. Man, you’ve simply got to be up and doing! Make some mistakes, if you have to, but don’t lie down and kill the S.B. & L. with inaction.”
“Cub,” laughed Rutter good-humoredly, “you speak as if this were a big personal matter with you.”
“Oh, isn’t it, thought” retorted Tom Reade with spirit. “My whole heart is centered on seeing the S.B. & L. win out within the time granted by its charter. Rutter, if you don’t take hold with a rush and make a live, galloping start with your new responsibilities, I’m afraid I’ll go wild and assault you violently!”