“That’s all right; I’ll fight him to a knockout, all the way up to Mr. Ford--if he wants to carry it that far. In the meantime we’ll show him, and the men who are paying his salary, that we know how to hit back when they call us thieves. Pass the word to our staff, and let the fellows pass it on to the foremen and subcontractors. They’ll know how to cut the corners, and how to keep the railroad inspectors from finding out--no coarse-hand work, you know, Plegg, but every dollar that can be squeezed out of this job from now on. That’s what we want.” Plegg was shaking his head like a man in a maze; and the new chief--new now in his attitude as well as in the shortness of his service--went on. “About that weak spot in the tunnel; have you found out who gave it away to Dargin?” “Yes; a fellow named Backus, who worked in one of the muck shifts. The men say he was a steerer for Dargin’s faro-game.” “What has become of him?” “He’s fired: I suppose he’s in Powder Can.” “He is the man we want. I’m going to put it up to you, Plegg, to find him and grab him before he gets next to Lushing. When he is found, buy him, and shoot him out of the country--anywhere where he’ll be out of Lushing’s reach until we get this job done.” “And if he can’t be bought?” “Lock him up somewhere and keep him from talking. Now about the bad roof itself: that is where Lushing can hit us the hardest. Give Regnier his tip, and do it to-night. Tell him to have the tunnel re-wired for lights so there won’t be a bulb anywhere near that soft spot. Tell him to keep his men quiet if he has to raise the pay of every man in the three shifts. Then make him understand that the rule against the admission of outsiders must be rigidly enforced, if he has to maintain an armed guard at the portal.” “That won’t keep Lushing’s inspectors out,” Plegg suggested mildly. “I’m coming to that. Regnier must see to it that some man of ours who can be trusted is within reach every time an inspector goes in. We don’t care to hurt anybody needlessly, but if one of our hard-rock bullies should happen to get into a scrap with the man who chances to discover that ‘fault’--well, you know what I mean. Mr. Grillage says that place is perfectly safe, and we’re going to take his word for it.” The first assistant nodded, and the slow smile bared his teeth and wrinkled at the corners of his eyes. “I certainly owe you an apology,” he said, with the faintest suggestion of irony in his tone; “several of them, in fact. There was a time when I fancied you were going to be too good--to revert to that morning in the Pullman a year ago; and I imagine Mr. Grillage harbored the same inadequate notion. You’ll want to be getting back to headquarters, I suppose: there is an engine due down from the tunnel--there it comes--I’ll flag it for you.”