Reade, I'd urge you to take a nap."
"I'll take a nap when I find it impossible to keep my eyes open any
longer," Tom compromised. "For the next few hours---work and lots of it."
As yet no effort had been made to repair the breaches in the wall. The
different gangs were working that day in nearer shore. The divers,
gathered on a scow, were now waiting for the "Morton" to convey them back
to shore. Reade decided to go with them.
"Twenty minutes to two," murmured Tom to himself, glancing at his watch as
the "Morton" went laboriously back over the dancing, glinting waves.
"There's a train due at Blixton at 1:30. By the time I get back to the
house I ought to find one or more officials of the company impatiently
waiting to jump on my devoted neck."
Nor was Tom disappointed in this expectation. Pacing up and down on the
porch of the house occupied by the engineers and superintendent was George
C. Bascomb, president of the Melliston Company. Behind him stood Nicolas,
respectfully eager to do anything he could for the comfort of the great
man.
"Ah, there you are, Reade," called President Bascomb in an irritated tone,
as he caught sight of the young engineer striding forward.
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