the
unimportant detail work which Jennings insisted upon doing personally in
order that it might be exactly right, was only a subterfuge to put off
as long as possible the day when the showdown must come? Was it in his
mind to draw his generous wages as long as he safely might then invent
some plausible excuse to quit?

Bruce was not a fool but neither was he apt to be suspicious of a person
he had no good reason to mistrust. He had made every allowance for
Jennings' slowness, but his bank account was rapidly reaching a stage
where, even if he would, he could no longer humor Jennings' mania for
solidity. _Something_ had to move, and, taking Jennings aside, Bruce
told him so.

The look which darkened Jennings's face when his instructions to Woods
were countermanded surprised Bruce. It was more than chagrin, it
was--ugly. It prejudiced Bruce against him as all his puttering had
failed to do. The correctness or incorrectness of his contention
concerning the cross-arm seemed of less importance than the fact that
Bruce's interference had impaired his dignity--belittled him in the eyes
of the crew.

"Am I the constructin' ingineer, or ain't I? If I am, I'm entitled to
some respect." More than ever Jennings looked like a bear pouting in a
trap.

"What's your dignity got to do with it?" Bruce demanded. "I'm General
Manager, when it comes to that, and I've been packing cross-arms like a
mule. This is no time to talk about what's due you--_get results_. This
pay-roll can't go on forever, Jennings. There's an end. At this rate
it'll come quick. You know what the success of this proposition means to
me--my first, and, I beg of you don't putter any more; get busy and put
up those machines. You say that 50 horse-power motor has got to be
rewound--"

"One man can't work on that alone," Jennings interrupted in a surly
tone. "I can't do anything on it until that other electrician comes in."

"Get Smaltz to help you."

"Smaltz! What does he know. Him holding out for them four-be-five
cross-arms shows what he knows."

"Sometimes I think he knows a good deal more than he lets on."

"Don't you think it," Jennings sneered. "He don't know _half_ as much as
he lets on. Jest one of them rovin' windjammers pickin' up a little
smatterin' here and there. Run a power-house in the Coeur d'Alenes.
Huh--what's that! This here feller that I got comin' is a 'lectrical
genius. He's worked with me on drudgers, and I know."

Glaring at the vi