“Set a good pace, and keep it,” called Tom along the trail.  Shortly after dark the party reached the construction camp, which now numbered about five hundred men.

Assistant Chief Engineer Howe appeared more than a little astonished when he learned that Tom Reade was the actual chief engineer of the road.  However, the man who had been in charge so far of the construction work made no fuss about being supplanted.

“Show me what part of the work you want me to handle,” offered Howe, “and you’ll find me right with you, Mr. Reade.”

“Thank you,” responded Tom, holding out his hand.  “I’m glad you feel no jealousy or resentment.  There’s just one thing in life for all of us, now, and that is to win the fight.”

Howe produced the plans and reports, and the three—–­for Hazelton was of their number—–­sat up until long after midnight laying out plans for pushing the work faster and harder.

At four in the morning, while it was still dark, Tom was up again.  He sat at the desk, going over the work once more until half past five o’clock.  Then he called Harry and Howe, and the trio of chiefs had a hurried breakfast together.

At six in the morning Mr. Newnham appeared, just in time to find Tom and Harry getting into saddle.

“Not going to stay behind and sit in an easy chair this morning, Reade?” called the president.

“Not this, or any other morning, sir,” Tom replied.

“You amaze me!”

“This construction work requires more personal attention, sir.  I may have twenty minutes to dream, in the afternoon, but my mornings are mortgaged each day, from four o’clock on.”

An hour later Mr. Howe joined Reade and Hazelton in the field.  Tom had already prodded three or four foremen, showing them how their gangs were losing time.

“If we get the road through on time, and save the charter,” Tom called, on leaving each working party, “every laborer and foreman is to have an extra week’s pay for his loyalty to us.”

In every instance that statement brought forth a cheer.

“Did Mr. Newnham tell you that you could promise that?” inquired Harry.

“No,” said Tom shortly.

“Then aren’t you going a bit far, perhaps!”

“I don’t care,” retorted Tom.  “Victory is the winning of millions; defeat is the loss of millions.  Do you imagine Mr. Newnham will care about a little thing such as I’ve promised the men?  Harry, our president is a badly worried man, though he doesn’t allow himself to show it.  Once the road is finished, operating and safe, he won’t care what money he has to spend in rewards.  He-----”

Tom did not finish his words.  Instead he dug his heels into his pony, bringing his left hand down hard on that animal’s flank.

“Yi, yi, yi!  Git!” called Tom, bending low over his mount’s neck.  He drove straight ahead.  Hazelton looked astonished for a space of five seconds, then started in pursuit of his chum and chief.