"Suppose there were to be trouble, of any kind, how are we fixed for it? How's the oxygen supply, and--and everything? Good God, man, unlimber! You're paid to know things and tell 'em. Now, talk." Thus adjured, Herzog washed his hands with imaginary soap and in a deprecating voice began: "Trouble, sir? What trouble could there be? There's not the faintest sign of any organization among the men. They're submissive as so many rabbits, sir, and--" "Damn you, shut up!" roared Flint. "I didn't summon you to come up here and give me a lecture on labor conditions at the works! The trouble I refer to is possible outside interference. Maybe some kind of wild-eyed Socialist upheaval, or attack, or what not. In case it comes, what's our condition? Tell me, in a few words, and for God's sake keep to the point! The way you wander, and always have, gives me the creeps!" Herzog ventured nothing in reply to this outburst, save a conciliatory leer. Then, collecting his thoughts, he began: "Well, sir, in a general way, our condition is perfect. We've got two regiments of rifle and machine gunmen, half of them equipped with the oxygen bullets. I guarantee that I could have them away from their benches and machines, and on the fortifications, inside of fifteen minutes. Slade's armed guards, 2,500 or so, are all ready, too. "Then, beside that, there are eight 'planes in the hangars, and plenty of men to take them up. If you wish, sir, I can have others brought in. The aerial-bomb guns are ready. As for the oxygen supply, Tanks F and L are full, K is half filled, and N and Q each have about 6,000 gallons, making a total of--let's see, sir--a total of just about 755,000 gallons." "How protected? Have you got those bomb-proof overhead nets on, yet?" "Not yet, sir. That is, not over all the lines of tanks. We ran short of steel wire, last week, and have only got eight of the tanks under netting. But the work is going on fast, sir, and--" "Rush it! At all hazards, get nets over the rest of the tanks. If anything happens, through this delay, remember, Herzog, I shall hold you personally responsible, and it will go hard with you!" "Yes, sir; thank you, sir," murmured the servile wretch. "Anything else, sir?" Flint thought a moment, glaring at Herzog with angry eyes, then shook his head in negation. "Very well, sir," said Herzog, withdrawing. "I'll go to work at once. By tomorrow, everything will be safe, I guarantee." He closed the door softly--as softly as he had spoken--as softly as he always did everything. Flint glared at the door. "The sneaking whelp!" he murmured. "He makes my very flesh crawl. I wish to heaven he weren't so essential to us; we'd let him go, damned quick!"