holding the caulker. When a
man has finished his work in this wilderness, what has he to do? There's
no music halls, no nothing; only the dismal prairie that makes your eyes
sore to look at."

Prescott had heard other Englishmen express themselves in a similar
fashion, and he laughed.

"If that's what you think of the country, why did you come here?"

"Big wages," replied the first man, entering the building. "Funny, isn't
it, that when you want good work done you have to send for us? Every
machine-shop in your country's full of labor-saving and ingenious tools,
but when you build bridges with them they fall down, and I've seen tanks
that wouldn't hold water."

"Oh, well," said Prescott, divided between amusement and impatience,
"this isn't to the point. I understand Kermode was here with you?"

"He was. Came in on a construction train, looking for a job, and when we
saw he was from the old country we put him on."

"You put him on? Don't these things rest with the division boss?"

The man grinned.

"You don't understand. We're specialists and get what we ask for. Sent
the boss word we wanted an assistant, and, as we'd picked one up, all he
had to do was to put him on the pay-roll."

"And did Kermode get through his work satisfactorily?"

"For a while. He was a handy man; might have made a boiler-maker if he'd
took to it young. When we had nothing else to keep him busy, he'd cut
tobacco for us and set us laughing with his funny talk."

This was much in keeping with Jernyngham's character. But the man went
on:

"When we'd made him a pretty good hand with the file and drill, he got
Bill to teach him how to caulk. He shaped first-rate, so one day we
thought we'd leave him to it while we went off for a jaunt. Bill had
bought an old shot-gun from a farmer, and we'd seen a lot of wild hens
about."

"It would be close time--you can only shoot them in October; but I
suppose that wouldn't count."

"Not a bit," said the boiler-maker. "All we were afraid of was that a
train might come in with the boss on board; but we chanced it. We told
Kermode he might go round the tank-plate landings--the laps, you
know--with the caulker, and give them a rough tuck in, ready for us to
finish; and then we went off. Well, we didn't shoot any wild hens, though
Bill got some pellets in his leg, and when we came back we both felt
pretty bad when we saw what Kermode had done. Bill couldn't think of
names enough to call him, and he's