"You're Olof Ericsson's son, aren't you?" he asked finally.
The boy nodded. "Yes, I'm John Ericsson; I've an older brother Nils, who's fifteen."
"Is Nils as much of an engineer as you are?"
"He knows a good deal about it. Father taught us both, but I don't think he's as fond of machines as I am."
The Count laughed. It sounded strange to him to hear a small boy talk of machinery so eagerly. He could not doubt the boy's earnestness, however. He had watched him for several days and had just examined his plans. The boy evidently meant what he said.
"Well, John, you're certainly a remarkable lad. I shouldn't wonder if you'd the making of a genius in you." He considered a few minutes, and then went on. "We need some engineers here to show these stupid soldiers what to do. How'd you like to try such a job?"
The boy jumped from his seat in his excitement. "I'd like it very much, sir. Do you mean to tell the men what to do, and to have real tools to work with?"
Count Platen smiled. "Yes, to have entire charge of a part of the work. That's what I mean. I really think you could do it. How old are you, John?"
"I'll be fourteen very soon."
"Hm," mused the Count, "It seems absurd to put a boy of fourteen in charge of six hundred soldiers. And yet if he has the skill to do the work, why not? And there's small doubt that he has. Well, John, I'll see what can be done. Meet me here to-morrow morning."