"Well, yes, if nothing comes of it," was the equivocal reply.
"Very well; patch him up. Have your own way, Rush. I suppose you would do that anyway. You are a very headstrong young man."
"I have been told that before, sir, though I do not intend to be headstrong."
"No, I understand. You just can't help it; that's all."
While his wound was being dressed Steve joined in the conversation of the officials, though the dressing of the wound hurt him dreadfully. Once or twice he winced, his voice hesitated; then he went on apparently oblivious to what the surgeon was doing.
None of this was lost on the general superintendent and his chief engineer, and though Steve Rush did not know it, he was making capital for himself at a very rapid rate.
At last, the dressing of the wound having been finished, Steve rose, announcing himself as ready to accompany them.
"I am sorry to have delayed you so, gentlemen," he said politely.
"Pshaw!" grunted the superintendent. "It wasn't you, but the pig that was responsible for the delay. You are responsible for our being alive at the present moment. As to whether that is a matter for congratulation, there might be a difference of opinion."