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Updated: August 18, 2024
Ashton lifted them out and poured a half-glassful of whiskey that was thick and oily with age. "The real stuff!" he said, holding out the tumbler to Blake. "Older than your grandmother. Let's wet your welcome to Michamac!" "Here's how!" replied Blake, with a geniality of tone and manner that diverted the other's attention from the glint in his eyes.
It's like him, dropping his work and running down here, when he ought to stick by his bridge." "His bridge?" asked Blake. "Say, he did blow about having landed the Michamac Bridge. But of course that's all hot air. He didn't even take part in the competition. Besides, you needn't tell me he's anything more than a joke as an engineer." "Isn't he, though?
"Now, just you keep on your shirt, Tommy," warned Griffith. "He may be here, or he mayn't. You are here to look at the Michamac Bridge and hold on to yourself. Understand?" Blake scowled and stared menacingly toward a snow-embanked, snow- covered building, the verandahs of which distinguished it as the office and quarters of the Resident Engineer.
My father threatened me. I had to make good. I took a position in old Leslie's office Genevieve's father. He paused, licked his lips, hesitated, and abruptly went on again, this time speaking with almost glib facility: "There was an engineers' contest for a projected bridge over Michamac Strait. I started to draw plans, that I might enter the contest, but I did not finish in time.
First to be transfixed by their glance was young Ashton, who stood toying with the fringe of Dolores' muff. "What's this, sir? What you doing here?" Ashton gave back a trifle before the older man's irascibility, but answered with easy assurance: "I thought it would do no harm to run down for a few days. All work at Michamac is stopped frozen up tight."
But he gave in, soon as I got a chance to talk it over with him." "'Cause he had to have you on the Michamac Bridge, eh?" demanded Blake, his face darkening. "Stow it! That may be true, but didn't I tell you he turned the bridge over to the Coville Company?" "Afraid he'd be found out, eh?" "Found out? What do you mean?" "Mean!" repeated Blake, his voice hoarse with passion.
"Has it come to that? when we used to make mudpies together! Dolores said that you " "Not so fast, Laffie!" called the girl, as she came dancing into the room in her most animated manner. "Don't forget I'm Miss Gantry now." Ashton continued to address Genevieve, without turning: "I came all the way down from Michamac just to congratulate you left my bridge!"
I've been in hell again where I belong." "Tom! oh, Tom! no, no!" she whispered, and she averted her face, unable to endure the black despair that she saw in his unflinching eyes. "Jimmy and old Grif, between them, managed to catch me when I was under full headway," he explained. "They stopped me and took me up to the Michamac Bridge. I'm on my feet again now.
Having directed one of the trainmen to bring the boxes of fruit to the office, Griffith led the way up the path formed by the bridge-service track. The rails had been kept shovelled clear from the February snowdrifts and ran straight out through the midst of the bleak unlovely buildings grouped near the edge of Michamac Strait, at the southern terminus of the bridge.
Blake stared hard at the bookcase behind Mrs. Gantry and answered curtly, oblivious of the older man's hand. "That remains to be seen. It's only on paper, so far." "But I h'm it seems they are sufficiently satisfied to wish to put you in charge of the Michamac Bridge." "In charge?" "Yes." "How about Ashton their contract with him?" "That's to be settled later.
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