cause they have shown a little
spirit."

M. Schenk looked at Max in a way that made the latter momentarily think
he would like to strike him. Then the manager half turned away, as he
replied in an almost contemptuous tone: "You will be older and wiser
soon, and we shall then see whether any change will be made. Until then
it is _I_ who direct the affairs of the firm, and it is _my_ policy
which must prevail."

Max felt uncommonly angry. He had been conscious for some time past that
M. Schenk was acting as though he expected to rule the affairs of the
firm for all time, and the thought galled him greatly. Was not he, Max,
sweating and struggling through every workshop solely in order that he
might fit himself to direct affairs? How was it, then, that this man, in
his own mind, practically ignored him? Was it because he was so
incompetent that the manager thought he never would be fit to take his
place? Max certainly felt more angry than he had ever done before, and,
unable to trust himself to speak, abruptly left the manager's presence
and walked rapidly away.

One good result the conversation had, and that was to redouble Max's
ardour to learn, and learn thoroughly, every branch of the work in every
part of the vast concern.

CHAPTER IV

The Cataclysm

The second summer since Max Durend had left Hawkesley had come, and for
the second time Max invited his friend Dale to come over to Liege and
spend a few weeks with him. The previous summer they had spent most
pleasantly on a walking-tour through the Ardennes, and they were now
going to do the same thing along the Middle and Upper Rhine. Max had
originally planned a tour in Holland, but M. Schenk recommended the
Rhine valley as much more varied and picturesque, and Max had agreed
readily enough to follow his recommendation.

Behold them then setting out from Bonn railway station, knapsack on back
and walking-stick in hand, full of spirits and go, for a four or five
weeks' tramp, first through the Drachenfels and then on through the
pretty Rhine-side villages, making a detour here and there to visit the
more picturesque and broken country through which the Rhine made its
way. They marched light, their only baggage besides their knapsacks
being a large Gladstone shared between them. This they did not take with
them, but used, merely to replenish their knapsacks occasionally with
clean linen, by sending it along a week or so ahead of them to such
towns as t