.. God! what a band of robbers
we've dealt with! ... Lodge, why in hell didn't you send Neale out
here at the start?"
A shadow lay dark in the chiefs lined face. Why had he not done a
million other things? Why, indeed! He did not answer the irate
director.
"Three hundred thousand dollars sunk in that hole--for nothing!"
shouted Warburton, in a final explosion.
The other two directors laughed. "Pooh!" exclaimed Rogers, softly.
"What is that? A drop in the bucket! Consult your note-book,
Warburton."
And that speech cooled the fighting director. It contained volumes.
It evidently struck home. Warburton growled, he mopped his red face,
he fell into a seat.
"Lodge, excuse me," he said, apologetically. "What our fine young
friend here told me was like some one stepping on my gouty foot.
I've been maybe a little too zealous--too exacting. Then I'm old and
testy ... What does it matter? How could it have been prevented?
Alas! it's black like that hideous Benton ... But we're coming out
into the light. Lodge, didn't you tell me this Number Ten bridge was
the last obstacle?"
"I did. The rails will go down now fast and straight till they meet
out there in Utah! Soon!"
Warburton became composed. The red died out of his face. He looked
at Neale.
"Young man, can YOU put permanent piers in that sink-hole?"
"Yes.
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