“In a way, yes,” Tom nodded. “See here, Harry, in the field we tried to do the work of a man and a half each, didn’t we? And here at the drawing tables, too.”
“Of course.”
“Now there is need of hustling, and, if we work too hard, we simply won’t have time to plan for others, or even to know what they’re doing. There are a lot of students coming, Harry. Most of them will be good men, for they’re young, full of enthusiasm, and just crazy to show what they can do. Some of them will doubtless be good draughtsmen. You’ll take these men and see to it that the drawing is pushed forward. But you won’t work too hard yourself. You’ll see to it that the force under you is working, and in that way you’ll be three times as useful as if you merely ground and dug hard by yourself. I shall go light on real work, just in order that I may have my eyes and brains where they will do the most good every minute of the time.”
Someone was approaching. Tom threw open the flap of the tent, thus discovering that the man was Black.
“Howdy, Reade,” was the greeting of the idle engineer. “I’m glad to say that my headache is better. I’m not going to have the fever, after all. Tomorrow I’ll be out on the leveling job.”
Tom shook his head.
“I want you to rest up tomorrow, Black.”
“I won’t do it,” retorted the other flatly. “Tomorrow I go out and continue running my levels.”
“Then I may as well tell you,” Tom continued, “what I would have preferred to break to you more easily later on.”
“What do you mean?” questioned the other sharply, an uneasy look creeping into his face.