“Cub,” laughed Rutter good-humoredly, “you speak as if this were a big personal matter with you.”

“Oh, isn’t it, thought” retorted Tom Reade with spirit.  “My whole heart is centered on seeing the S.B. & L. win out within the time granted by its charter.  Rutter, if you don’t take hold with a rush and make a live, galloping start with your new responsibilities, I’m afraid I’ll go wild and assault you violently!”

“Ha, ha, ha!” Jack laughed loudly.

“Here, stop that cackling,” ordered Reade in the same low voice that he had been using.  “Let’s get away from the chief’s tent.  We’ll disturb him with our noise.”

Dr. Gitney, entering the big tent five minutes later, found Mr. Thurston very much awake, for he had heard the low-voiced conversation outside the tent.  Mr. Thurston was not quite as ill as was Blaisdell, and had not as yet reached the stage of delirium.

“Doctor, I want you to summon the engineer corps here,” begged the patient.

“When you’re better,” replied the doctor, with a hand on the sick man’s pulse.

“Doc, you’d better let me have my way,” insisted Mr. Thurston in a weak voice.  “If you don’t, you’ll make me five times more ill than I am at present.”

Watching the fever glow in the man’s face deepen, and feeling the pulse go up several beats per minute, Dr. Gitney replied: 

“There, there, Thurston.  Be good, and I’ll let you have three minutes with your engineers.”

“That’s all I ask,” murmured the sick man eagerly.

Dr. Gitney went outside and rounded them up.  All were present except ’Gene Black, who, according to Matt Rice, had taken a little walk outside of camp.

“I hope you’ll soon be better, sir,” began Rutter, as the engineers gathered at the cot of their stricken chief.

“Don’t say anything unnecessary, and don’t waste my time,” begged Mr. Thurston.  “Rutter, do you feel equal to running this field corps until either Blaisdell or I can take charge again?”

“No, I don’t chief,” replied Jack.  “I’ve sent a wire to Howe, urging him to come here and take charge.”

“Howe can’t come,” replied the chief.  “If he does, the construction work will go to pieces.  This corps will have to be led by someone now present.”

Morris and Rice gazed eagerly at their chief.  Butter showed his relief at being allowed to hack out from full control.

As for Timothy Thurston, he let his gaze wander from face to face.

“Reade!” he almost whispered.

“Yes, sir!” answered Tom, stepping gently forward.  “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Reade,” came in another whisper, “can you—–­have you the courage to take the post of acting chief?”

Several gasps of astonishment broke on the air, but the greatest gasp of all came from Reade himself.

“I think you need a little sleep now, sir,” urged Tom.