“Good! Neale, I’ll start east with another load off my shoulders.... And, son, if you throw up a bridge so there’ll be no delay, something temporary for the rails and the work-train, and then plan piers right for Number Ten—well—you’ll hear from it, that’s all.” They shook hands.
“I may be gone a week or a month—I can’t tell,” went on the chief. “But when I do come I’ll probably have a trainload of directors, commissioners, stockholders.”
“Bring them on,” said Neale. “Maybe if they saw more of what we’re up against they wouldn’t holler so.”
“Right.... Remember, you’ve full charge and that I trust you implicitly. Good-by and good luck!”
The chief boarded his train as it began to move. Neale watched it leave the station, and with a swelling heart he realized that he had been placed high, that his premonition of advancement had not been without warrant.
The work-train was backing into the station and would depart westward in short order. Neale hurried to his lodgings to pack his few belongings. Larry was lying on his cot, fully dressed and asleep. Neale shook him.
“Wake up, you lazy son-of-a-gun!” shouted Neale.
Larry opened his eyes. “Wal, what’s wrong? Is it last night or to-morrow?”
“Larry, I’m off. Got charge of a big job.”
“Is thet all?” drawled Larry, sleepily. “Why, shore I always knowed you’d be chief engineer some day.”