"Don't quarrel, men.
Sure there's bound to be a little friction for a day or so. But
we'll soon get to working."
Colohan strode away without another word. His brawny shoulders were
expressive of a doubt.
"Get me my plans for Number Ten construction," said Neale,
pleasantly, for he meant to do his share at making the best of it.
Blake brought the plans and spread them out on the table.
"Will you both go over them with me?" inquired Neale.
"What's the use?" returned Coffee, disgustedly. "Neale, you're
thick-headed."
"Yes, I guess so," rejoined Neale, constrainedly. "That's why
General Lodge sent me up here--over your clear heads."
No retort was forthcoming from the two disgruntled engineers. Neale
went into the tent and drew a seat up to the table. He wanted to be
alone--to study his plans--to think about the whole matter. He found
his old figures and drawings as absorbing as a good story; still,
there came breaks in his attention. Blake walked into the tent
several times, as if to speak, and each time he retired silently.
Again, some messenger brought a telegram to one of the engineers
outside, and it must have caused the whispered colloquy that
followed. Finally they went away, and Neale, getting to work in
earnest, was not disturbed until called for supper.
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