ty, and it was signed by the chairman of the Board of Public Works.

"Proposals for water-pipe have been reopened, and your bid is accepted.
Wire how soon you can begin to ship eighteen-inch mains," was what it
said. Tom handed it to his father and stepped quickly to the telephone.
There was a little delay in getting the ear of the president of the Iron
City National at South Tredegar, and the bounding, pulsing blood of
impatience made it seem interminable.

"Is that you, Mr. Henniker? This is Gordon at the Chiawassee plant,
Gordonia. We have secured that Indiana contract I was telling you about,
and I'll be in to see you on the ten o'clock train. Will you save five
minutes for me? Thank you. Good-by."

Tom hung the ear-piece on its hook and turned to face his father.

"Have you surrounded it?" he laughed, with a little quaver of excitement
in his voice, which he had been careful to master in the announcement to
the bank president. "We live, pappy; we live and win! Get word to the
men to come up here at three o'clock for their pay. Tell them we blow in
again to-morrow, and they can all come back to work and no questions
asked. Can you stay on your feet long enough to do all that?"

Caleb was nodding gravely; yet bewilderment was still in the saddle.

"But the money for the pay-rolls, son--this is only an order to go to
work," he said, fingering the telegram doubtfully.

Tom laughed joyously.

"If I can't make Mr. Henniker believe that he can afford to carry us a
while longer on the strength of that bit of yellow paper, I'll rob his
bank. You get the men together by three o'clock, and I'll be here with
the money. If I'm not, it will be because somebody has sandbagged me
between the bank and the train."

Caleb was still wrestling with the incredible thing, but light was
breaking in on him slowly.

"Hold on, son," he said, and the old-time smile was wrinkling at the
corners of his eyes; "how much did you allow to make out o' this job? I
disremember what you said when you talked about it before."

Tom checked off the items on his fingers.

"Enough to put us through the winter; enough to stand us on our feet
independent of Duxbury Farley and his son; enough to let us pay Major
Dabney the back royalties on the coal. More than this, it's going to use
up iron--hundreds of tons of it. We'll buy out of our own yards, and the
men shall have the back-pay dividends."

The general manager had taken his burned-out corn-c