“‘Some wirin’,’ I heard Colonel Porter answer. Then there was some little talk or other that I don’t just remember.”
Red wouldn’t tell what they had said at that point, but it glowed warmly in his honest heart; payment in full for many hours of grilling toil. Colonel Porter had explained the wiring, and had added,—
“We have the cleverest young mechanic in the school that I have ever come across. I believe he could make every part and assemble any known engine, after an hour’s study. Name’s Ryan.”
Mr. Hammond had grunted.
“Hang on to him. He may be useful a little later on.”
“Well, then what?” asked David, impatiently.
“Oh!” said Red. “Well then, ‘What sorta mechanics you got?’ asks the Big Fella.
“‘So-so,’ says the Colonel.
“‘Only so-so?’ growls Big Stuff. ‘Better bounce ’em; the quicker the better.’
“‘Well, I dunno,’ says the Colonel, lookin’ wise the way he does. ‘I dunno. There’s one lad, now; our efficiency expert spent three days checkin’ up on that b’y, and he figured it out that the fella had saved the company one and seven-eighths cents in a week, on insulated wire! In wan week, mind you; Ryan’s the name.’”