“Certainly, if possible.”
“Then we ought to get some lights—three or four gasoline flares. That work can’t be done before dark. It’s going to take all night. It’s a tejous job. And after the frame is set up and made fast, the engine must be tested and anchored and the shafts set.”
“Hadn’t we better get the lights ready?” asked Mr. Elder of Pennington.
“Of course, we’ll need them,” answered Pennington, who had in reality not thought of them. “Better let Bud go to town for them.”
“All right. Here Bud, take my horse and buggy and go to town, and get what’s needed at Appleton’s hardware store. I’ll be at the ticket office when you get back.”
Pennington had disposed of his rival temporarily, but Bud took his defeat cheerfully. However, he could not resist the temptation to turn the tables once more.
“Want anything else?” he asked casually as he climbed into the rig.
“Nothing more now,” answered Pennington, turning away for the third time.
“You want gasoline for the lamps, don’t you?” suggested Bud.