"Oh, come now!" cried the superintendent; "you must know that you were discharged for stealing cement!"
Stunned for a moment, Challoner said not a word. Then slowly he began to understand. Graft! Yes, that was the solution of the matter. Cement was worth money in any market; and in the concrete business, nobody could tell,—until it was too late,—just how many barrels went into the mixture. With bricks—there was no doubt about bricks. A brick was good or bad; you could tell that by a trowel. But concrete was bound to be a problem henceforth to the end of time.
So it turned out that Challoner was discharged for doing the thing the foreman was guilty of doing. At the time he had little thought of resentment. It is true that he might have "peached" on the foreman, complained to the head-superintendent, and got them to test the walls with a testing-hammer. But it was too late, besides, he knew now that the head-superintendent was tarred with the same stick.
After this incident, Challoner cultivated a habit of strolling into the offices of the various dealers in the city.
"What are the proper concrete proportions?" was his request in all of them.
Charts were taken out and consulted. There was no difference of opinion: all agreed that the head-superintendent's figures were out of the way, and by one barrel of cement.
Graft! There was no doubt about it in his mind; and he proceeded to figure out just where the trouble lay. On that department-store job there were several mixers. On every mixing the head-superintendent made one barrel of cement. There were several foremen. On every individual mixing, the foremen, severally, made two barrels of cement. In every mixing three barrels of cement were left out.
"But what about the wall?" Challoner asked himself when once more alone.
And so it came about that he found that in this business, of all businesses, there was a chance for an honest man. After a little while, he found another job—still at two dollars a day. It was beginning once more at the bottom, and working up, yet he did it. But the instant he had worked up, he was again confronted with a similar situation. It was a question of "shut up or get out!" Gradually, it is true, the burden of the song of these men shifted slightly, and became, "Come in with us, or keep silent."
A few more experiences of this sort, and it was given to Challoner to perceive that he had knowledge of these things in advance of the general public. People looked upon concrete as something marvellous. The agitation among the construction men, the newspaper accounts about its cheapness, together with the wonderful results obtained by its use in other cities, all combined to dazzle owners about to build.