MacGregor's mind had not caught up yet; and Halloran continued: “I want to take you back to Wauchung with me. We will raise your salary five hundred dollars, and engage you for as long a time as you think right! You know Higginson & Company--and you know we keep our promises. Then you can tell Bigelow to go to hell if you want to. I know how Bigelow's men feel.” He looked at his watch. “We can get the 9:53 train down.” “You don't mean to go this morning?” said MacGregor. “Yes; right off. You surely have an assistant you can leave in charge of the engine.” The fat man backed up against the opposite door and looked at Halloran. “See here,” he said, “what does this mean?” “Mean?”--Halloran's anger, that had been rising since six o'clock, began to boil over--“Mean? It means that Bigelow has come into the lumber business with the idea of running Higginson out. And if you know anything about Martin L. Higginson you know that old Bigelow has bitten off the biggest hunk he ever tried to get his mouth around. It means that G. Hyde Bigelow's going to get such a hob-nailed roost in the breeches that he'll be lucky to come down at all. He's going to have the whole damned zodiac buzzing around in his head before he gets through with Higginson--that's what it means! I've come up here this morning to tell you that we want an engineer, and that you're the man we want. And we want you to go on the 9:53 train--that's about forty minutes now.” [Illustration: 0103] MacGregor was thinking hard. He knew a little about Bigelow and a good deal more about Higginson. He liked the phrase, too--what was it--oh, “the best engineer on the lakes.” “Can't you give me a day to think it over, Mr. Halloran?” “Sorry, but I'm afraid not. We need you right off.” “What did you say your offer was?” “What you think is fair. But I'll tell you flatly, we'll pay you more than Bigelow will--five hundred a year more. You have just about comfortable time to get up to your house and change your clothes. I'll meet you at the station.” “What if Bigelow should make trouble about my contract?” asked MacGregor dubiously. “Don't you worry a minute about that. We'll back you up to the last notch.” MacGregor thought it over a little longer. Then he turned his ponderous frame and called to his assistant. “All right,” he said over his shoulder to Halloran, “I'll meet you at the station.” At this moment Mr. William H. Babcock was rising from a hotel breakfast in Grand Rapids and reaching for the toothpicks. As he strolled out to the office to buy a paper he picked his teeth and smiled softly. *****