“I should be risking my poor little job, Mr. Tregarvon. I am only the humblest of under-strappers in the big corporation, and if I should try to pull strings for you, some nippy chief clerk in the New York offices would tell me to pack my grip and get out.” “Then supposing you turn the papers over to me and let me do my own bargaining with headquarters,” Tregarvon ventured. “It wouldn’t do a particle of good, as you’d know if you had had any dealings with the great corporations. These things are mere matters of routine, and you couldn’t break that routine with a sledge-hammer, Mr. Tregarvon. I’m awfully sorry, but I am afraid the option will have to stand as it was made--to expire at midnight to-night.” Tregarvon had one small shot in reserve and the time had arrived when it must be fired. “In that view of the case, Mr. Thaxter, I am afraid I shall have to stay out,” he said, hoping against hope that the shot might find its target. Once more Thaxter made the sign of regretful negation. From where he was sitting the bookkeeper had a fair view of the installation activities, and Tregarvon could not help wondering if their rapid progress toward completion had anything to do with Thaxter’s immovability. While he was waiting for the bluffing shot to penetrate, if it would, Rucker came across from the new engine, carrying a piece of iron pipe with a valve attached; carrying, also, a ferocious scowl to emphasize his complaint. “Them machinery guys over in Chattanooga is a fright!” he rapped out. “That boiler dome is tapped for inch-and-a-quarter pipe, and so’s the engine; and they’ve gone and sent us this inch-and-a-half throttle and pipe connection! Wot t’ ’ell am I goin’ to do about that, I’d like to know?” Tregarvon grasped the new obstacle--and his own fierce impatience--firmly by the neck and refused to make a profane show of himself for Thaxter’s benefit. “I suppose there is only one thing to do, Billy; to go down to the railroad office and wire the machinery people to make good,” he answered placably. Then to Thaxter: “We have hit so many of these knock-outs that we are beginning to learn that we must take them as they come.” And with that, he scribbled a telegram on a leaf of his note-book, tore it out, and gave it to Rucker. “There is the message,” he said. “Tell Tryon and the men that the jig is up for to-day, and that I’ll be down a little later on to pay them off. You’d better go down yourself and send that wire. If you can persuade the railroad agent to hustle it, we may catch the machinery shop before it closes.” Thaxter sat quite silent during the dispersal of the working gang; did not speak again until after the last of the men had disappeared in the direction of the tramhead. Then he said: “Well, you are hung up until next week safely enough now. Your wire won’t get an answer this late Saturday afternoon.”