right into Argyle. He knew it by hot sluggish day, and by perfect evening, and by fierce storm-racked night. And, beyond all places in the wide earth, it was home to him. Just a little he grinned, resting a foot on the main pipe. These fat men would never know the Lion.
“Did you get my letter?” he said again; and the life of the Lion was throbbing under his foot.
Then Kiliat the elder spoke. He told Ormond many things that Ormond knew far better than he did; he complained of Ormond’s contant demand for repairs; he desired explanation—full explanation.
“My son says that everything is in good order. We were given to understand that everything was in good order when we took the claim over.”
Ormond’s temper was waking.
“I can’t help what you were given to understand. It was not in good order. If your son were here as often as a manager should be he might know what he’s talking about. The flumes and trestles are rotten. I’m eternally patching them. If you’ll kindly come round here, and examine the pipes for the powerhouse and the Pelton wheel you might see the plugs in them. I have given a week’s work to each of those pipes this year. Then the jets———” Ormond wrenched an hydraulic jet
