"I don't know about that," muttered Rod. "It was my fault, maybe, writing him that letter. I was too high and mighty, I suppose."
"You needn't blame yourself," returned Burford bluntly. "We've put up with his insolence and his scamped work and his everlasting wrangling long enough. Mr. Carlisle won't blame us; neither will the company."
"We ought to wire company head-quarters at Chicago, and report just how things stand; then they'll send us a supervising engineer to take Mr. Carlisle's place. And a new scrub, too, instead of Marvin."
"You're right, Hallowell. You wire them straight off, will you? I'm going up to the first lateral to watch the afternoon shift."
Early that evening Roderick received the answering wire from head-quarters. He read it carefully. His sober young face settled into grim lines.
An hour later Burford turned up, tired, but in high spirits, for his dredge had made a flying start on the lateral. Roderick handed him the despatch.
The two boys stared at each other. A deep flush burned to Burford's temples. Rod's hard jaw set.
The message was curt and to the point.
"The Breckenridge Engineering Company. office of the vice-president.
Roderick Hallowell, Esq.