"That's good," Fuller replied with a twinkle. "Still, if you hustle him too much, you'll make him tired." Dick did not smile, because he did not know how far it was wise to go, but he suspected that Bethune had been tired before he came to the dam. The latter was generally marked by an air of languid indifference, and while his work was well done he seldom exceeded his duty. Next evening Dick went to see Bethune and found him lying in a hammock hung between the posts of the veranda of his galvanized iron hut. A syphon and a tall glass filled with wine in which a lump of ice floated, stood on a table within his reach, and an open book lay upside down upon the floor. He wore white duck trousers, a green shirt of fine material, and a red sash very neatly wound round his waist. His face was sunburned, but the features were delicately cut and his hands, which hung over the edge of the hammock, were well cared for. "Mix yourself a drink," he said to Dick. "There's a glass and some ice in the bureau inside. Anyhow my steward boy put some there." Dick, who went into the hut, came back with a grin. "There's a bit of wet blanket, but the ice has gone. It seems to have run into your papers." "They'll dry," Bethune said tranquilly. "You had better put some of the _gaseosa_ in the wine; it's sour Spanish _tinto_. Then if you like to pick up the book, I'll read you some Francois Villon. There was red blood in that fellow and it's a pity he's dead. You get into touch with him better beside the Spanish Main than you can in New York." "I never heard of him, and perhaps I ought to explain----" "What you came for? Then go ahead and ease your mind. It's business first with you." "It occurred to me that I had perhaps taken too much upon myself now and then. You are my chief, of course, and I don't want to look pushing." "That shows good taste," Bethune remarked. "But how are you going to get over the difficulty that you _are_ what you call pushing? Anyhow, I'm surprised it did occur to you." "To tell the truth, it was something Fuller said----" "So I imagined! Well, when you go too far I'll pull you up, but we needn't bother about it in the meantime. You were obviously born a hustler, but you have an ingenuousness that disarms resentment. In fact, you quite upset our views of the British character." "Then the feeling's mutual," Dick rejoined with a grin. "You don't harmonize with what I've seen of Americans." "Ours is a big country and we've room for different types; but I come from Georgia and we haven't all learned to hustle yet in the South. That's probably why I'm here, when I could have had a much better paid job." Dick did not doubt this, because he had seen something of the other's mathematical powers. He was not a fool at figures himself, but Bethune could solve by a flash of genius problems that cost him laborious calculation. It was strange that such a man should be content to make a very modest use of his talents.