little more of his time to the claim during that week. For I shall do no more work than the ordinary overseer. All orders must come from him in future.”
Bert Kiliat’s face was blank in the merciless light.
“Oh, I say!” he cried. “I told you so, pater! For Heaven’s sake, hedge on what you’ve said, can’t you? I don’t know how to manage the beastly thing.”
The elder Kiliat was giddy with rage. He faced the stern-eyed man with the stern background of black pipes and wild hills, and he said more than one thing that would not look well on paper. Unequivocally he chopped a week off Ormond’s discharge, tendering coin instead. He drew out a cheque to that effect on the beating main pipe of the Lion, and Ormond tore it up. Then the chief of the directors spoke apologetically, and Bert Kiliat complained, and the elder Kiliat said several things more.
Ormond went away from it all, walking blindly. From its covered box by the Pelton wheel the telephone bell rang up from Adams, twenty-two miles away at the intake. Ormond picked up the receiver mechanically; then dropped it and sent word to Kiliat by Mears. Mears was carting over some ripples that Ormond had forged out yesterday. The sight of them made the blood boil into his head and
