So they smoked in quiet companionship until it was time to leave for the station. Baird saw Loring on board the train, and they parted after a silent, firm handshake, which gave strength to one and conviction to the other. CHAPTER XIV In six months after Loring had taken charge, the Kay mine was producing on a paying basis. What those six months had accomplished was little short of marvelous. At the time of the arrival of the new manager, everything had been in an extreme state of disorganization. Unused machinery stood uncovered and rusting. The pumps were hardly more than holding the water in the shafts. No new timbering had been put in place to supplant the old, which was dangerously rotten. The costly electric lighting plant had been almost ruined by neglect. Discord had been reigning between the various heads of departments, and discord in a community in which there is no recreation, and from which there is no way of escape, is a dangerous element. When Loring had assumed control, in explanation of failures each worker had murmured complaints of others. At the mess there had been gloomy silence, in contrast to the joviality which had prevailed at the old mess in Quentin. Distrusted and disliked, Loring had firmly pursued his course until that course was justified, and the criticism and hatred had turned to respect and admiration. He had worked night and day, attending to everything himself. Loring was tireless in his enthusiasm, and he had inspired the men under him to do their work better than they knew how. The result was that by this time, the system of a well-built machine had supplanted the previous chaos. And though it was far from a perfect machine, each day was adding to its efficiency. The nervous irritability of the mess had been relieved by the arrival of an old friend. One day Hop Wah had drifted into Stephen’s office and after announcing solemnly: “Me canned, too,” had stood waiting expectantly until Loring had ordered him installed as assistant cook in the company eating-house. Within a week after this the meals had become joyous occasions. Wah would dance from man to man as he served the meals, murmuring insults which pleased even the insulted, and provoked roars of laughter at the victim’s expense. When he had some particularly bold insult to deliver, he would sing it from the kitchen window. The singing lent impersonality and the distance safety. Soon the refrain and interlude of his old song, “La, la, boom, boom,” were as well known, and as popular in Kay, as they had been in Quentin. Radlett had told Loring that there would be much work for him to do, and he had not been guilty of exaggeration. Night after night the electric light beneath the green tin reflector in the office had burned until well into the morning. Then a watcher might have seen it go out suddenly, before a tired man turned the key in the office door.