“Lonely, Reade?” called the chief from his tent.
“Yes, sir,” Tom nodded. “I wish I had something to do.”
“Perhaps I can find work for you in here. Come in.”
Tom entered eagerly. Mr. Thurston was seated at the large table, a mass of maps and field notes before him.
“How are you on drawing, Reade?” queried his chief.
“Poor, sir.”
“Never had any training in that line?”
“I can draw the lines of a map, sir, and get it pretty straight, as far as the mathematics of map-drawing goes,” Tom answered. “But another man has to go over my work and put in the fine touches of the artist. You know what I mean, sir; the fancy fixings of a map.”
“Yes, I know,” nodded Mr. Thurston. “I can sympathize with you, too, Reade, for, though I always longed to do artistic platting (map-work) I was always like yourself, and could do only the mathematical part of it. You can help me at that, however, if you are careful enough. Take a seat at that drawing table; and I’ll see what you can do.”
First, Reade stepped to a box that held map paper. Taking out a sheet, he placed it on the surface of the drawing table, then stuck in thumb-tacks at each of the four corners.