Mr. Thurston reached the delirium stage in his illness that forenoon.
“Reade, I don’t feel like going out this morning,” announced ’Gene Black, approaching the young head of the camp after early breakfast.
“What’s the matter?” Tom asked pleasantly.
“I have rather a bad headache,” complained Black.
“That’s a woman’s complaint,” smiled Tom.
“Just the same, I’m not fit for duty,” retorted Black rather testily. “I hope I’m not going to come down with the fever, but I can’t be sure.”
“You’d better stay in camp, then,” nodded Reade. “Don’t go out into the field again until you feel like work.”
“Humph! He takes it easily enough,” grunted Black to himself as the young chief strode away to confer with Butter. “I wonder if the cub suspects the game I’m playing here? Oh, pshaw! Of course he doesn’t suspect. Why should he? The truth is that Cub Reade doesn’t realize how much every man is needed in the field. Reade doesn’t understand the big need for hustle here. Well, that all helps to make my task the easier.”
Within five minutes Rutter and the other engineers had their full instructions. As they started away Tom called after them:
“Gentlemen, if there is any possible way of putting fifty per cent. more work into each day, now, I know I can rely upon you all to do it. The S.B. & L. must run its first train over the completed road within charter time.”