“You really know what you are doing, Reade,” he said at last. “Your line measurements are right, and your angles tally faultlessly, I’m glad I kept you back today. You can help me here even more than in the field. Tomorrow, however, I shall have to keep Rice back. He’s our ornamental draughtsman, and puts in the fine, flowery work on our maps. Here’s some of his work.”
Tom gazed intently at the sheet that Mr. Thurston spread for his inspection.
“Rice does it well,” remarked Reade thoughtfully. “You’ve one other man in the corps who can do the pretty draughting about as well.”
“Who is he?”
“Hazelton. Harry doesn’t do the mathematical part as easily as I do, but he has a fine talent for fancy drawing, sir.”
“Then I’ll try Hazelton tonight,” decided Mr. Thurston aloud. “You may go on with your drawing now, Reade. Hello; someone is coming into camp.”
Mr. Thurston stepped over to the doorway in time to see a young man riding up on a pony.
“Where’s the chief engineer?” called the newcomer.
“You’re looking at him,” replied Mr. Thurston.
The young man, who appeared to be about twenty-eight years of age, rode his horse to a near-by tree, then dismounted gracefully and tied his mount.