“Howe can’t come,” replied the chief. “If he does, the construction work will go to pieces. This corps will have to be led by someone now present.” Morris and Rice gazed eagerly at their chief. Butter showed his relief at being allowed to hack out from full control. As for Timothy Thurston, he let his gaze wander from face to face. “Reade!” he almost whispered. “Yes, sir!” answered Tom, stepping gently forward. “What can I do for you, sir?” “Reade,” came in another whisper, “can you---have you the courage to take the post of acting chief?” Several gasps of astonishment broke on the air, but the greatest gasp of all came from Reade himself. “I think you need a little sleep now, sir,” urged Tom. “I’m not out of my head,” smiled Timothy Thurston wanly. “Doc Gitney will tell you that. Come---for I’m growing very tired. Can you swing this outfit and push the S.B. & L. through within charter time?” “I---I---hardly know what to say,” stammered Tom, who felt dizzy from the sudden rush of blood to his head. “Have you the courage to try?” “Yes, sir---_I have_!” came, without further hesitation from Tom Reade. “I believe I’ll succeed, at that, for I’ll stake health, and even life, on winning out!” “That’s what I like to hear,” breathed Mr. Thurston, an added flush coming to his own face. “Gentlemen, it’s time to leave,” warned Dr. Gitney, watching his patient. “One moment more, Doc,” insisted the chief engineer feebly. “Gentlemen, you’ve heard what has just been said. Will everyone of you pledge himself on his honor to drop all feeling that might interfere? Will you all stand loyally by Reade, take his orders and help boost him and all the rest of us through to victory in this big game?” “I will!” spoke Jack Rutter earnestly and with a deep sigh of relief. The others added their promises. “Reade, you will take full charge here,” continued Timothy Thurston. “Notify Mr. Howe, too, at once. You and he will not need to conflict with each other in any way. Also notify the president of the road, at the New York offices. Wire him at once. Now---thank you all, gentlemen. I believe I shall have to stop and go to sleep.” “Get out, all of you,” came firmly from bearded, middle-aged Dr. Gitney. “You fellows now have your acting chief to look to, and you don’t need to bother a sick man any more.” When Tom Reade stepped outside, on the heels of the others, he certainly didn’t feel as though treading on air. Instead, he wondered if he were going to reel and totter, so dizzy did he feel over the sudden realization of the responsibilities he had taken upon himself. “Give us our orders, chief,” begged Matt Rice, with a grin, when Tom joined the others over by the mess tent. “Wait a few moments,” urged Reade. “I don’t really know whether I am chief or a joke.” “Great Scott! After lecturing me the way you did, you are not going to get cold feet, are you?” gasped Jack Rutter.