She was anxious about him! That fact was paramount. Somebody in the
world was worrying over _him_. He stopped short in the trail with fresh
wonder of it. Every time he thought of it, it gave him a thrill. His
face, that had been set in tired, harsh lines of late, softened with a
smile of happiness.
And he did so long to give her substantial evidence of his gratitude. If
that machinery ever started--if the scrapers ever got to hauling
dirt--her reward, his reward, would come quick. That was one of the
compensating features of mining; if the returns came at all they came
quick. Bruce started on, hastening his footsteps until he almost ran.
The electrical genius was driving a nail with a spirit-level when Bruce
reached the pump-house and Bruce flared up in quick wrath.
"Stop that, Banule! Isn't there a hammer on this place?"
"Didn't see one handy," Banule replied cheerfully, "took the first thing
I could reach."
"It just about keeps one pack-train on the trail supplying you with
tools."
"Guess I am a little careless." Banule seemed unruffled by the
reproach--because he had heard it so many times before, no doubt.
"Yes, you're careless," Bruce answered vigorously, "and I'm telling you
straight it worries me; I can't help wondering if your carelessness
extends to your work. There, you know, you've got me, for I can't tell.
I must trust you absolutely."