“If you join me, you run some risk of losing your money.”

“Of course.  It’s obvious that you don’t think the risk very big, and I’m willing to take a fighting chance.”

“I don’t know how big it is.  That depends on the weather and accidents.”

“Exactly,” said Charnock.  “If I join you with some money and teams, will it lessen, or add to, the risk?”

“It will lessen the risk.”

“Will it reduce, or increase, your working costs?”

“I think the answer’s obvious.”

“Then it looks as if you’d be foolish to turn my offer down.”

Festing got up and walked about irresolutely for a moment or two.  Then he stopped with some color in his face.

“I called you a shirker, Bob, and ordered Helen to leave you alone.  Now I see you’re the better man and I’m a confounded, fault-finding prig.  But you’re not vindictive, and we’ll let that go.  The trouble is, I’m obstinate and sure of what I can do—­at least, I was, though my confidence has got shaken recently.  Well, I think I can finish this contract, but don’t know.  I’ve lost a good deal of money, and would hate to feel I might lose yours.”

“That’s the line you took with Helen,” Charnock rejoined.  “I’m not surprised that she was vexed, and since we’re being frank, you’re a little too proud of yourself yet.  Anyhow, I like a plunge; it’s exhilarating, and there’s not much excitement in betting on a certainty.”  He paused and resumed with a twinkle:  “Besides, if there is a loss, Sadie will stand for it.”

Festing gave him a puzzled look, and he laughed.

“You don’t understand yet?  You’re dull, Stephen.  Now I’m not a greedy fellow, and my chief use for dollars is to spend them.  I want to take back some money to show Sadie I’ve made good, and if we put this contract over she’ll be satisfied and you’ll have her gratitude.  That’s why I mean to make a job if I join you, and I imagine you’re with me there.  Well, perhaps I’ve said enough.  Is it a bargain?”

“Yes,” said Festing quietly, and they shook hands.

CHAPTER XXIII

CHARNOCK MAKES PROGRESS

Deep snow covered the hillside and the pines, with lower branches bent, rose in somber spires against the dazzling background.  The river had shrunk and the dark water rolled in angry turmoil between ice-glazed rocks.  Streaks of gray haze rose a foot or two into the nipping air, and the clash of shovels had a new, harsh ring.  It was nearly dinner time, and Festing noted that his men had not done much since breakfast as he walked down the beaten hollow in the middle of the track.  One could not tell how long the cold-snap would last, but it had already embarrassed him.

He stopped above an excavation where Charnock and another were cutting a hole in the frozen gravel.  The former held a steel bar in blue, frost-cracked hands and twisted it in the cavity while his companion struck the end.  He knelt, in a cramped pose, in the snow, and Festing smiled.  Bob was fond of comfort, and it was strange to see him occupied like this.  Then, noting the length of the bar, he thought they would not sink the hole deep enough for the blasting charge before dinner, which was unfortunate, because the powder fumes are poisonous and would hang about the spot for some time.