The Red Mouse Part 36

At last the day came when the doctors allowed him to visit Miriam in the hospital.

"I've got a job, dear," he whispered to her. That was all he told her then; but those five words were a history to Miriam.

Another day when again visiting her at the hospital, he told her how they mixed the stuff, how they made the wooden moulds, and about the crowds that gathered around them, for the process was a new one.

"People don't believe in it, don't think it will stand," he said, watching her closely.

On her face came the interested look that he so desired, and she asked:--

"Will it, Laurie?"

"Like a rock," he a.s.sured her.

But Challoner was ignorant of the danger then, for he had not reckoned with the human element in the character of construction. All he knew was that he worked from morning until night at the cheapest of all cheap, unskilled labour.

After a little while Miriam put out a thin hand and let it rest in his, saying:--

"How much do they give you, dear?"

Not without a suggestion of pride in his voice, the man answered:--

"A dollar and a half a day."

A dollar and a half a day! Surely a mere pittance; and yet the woman's face was radiant with joy.

It was not long before Challoner found that his arms and back and shoulders were perceptibly enlarging. At first it was merely at his physical strength that he rejoiced; but this, in turn, soon made way for a greater joy: he realised that his soul was surging back into his body; he had driven it out, but it would not stay away.

From time to time, Challoner noted that the tamping was developing him too much on one side. With the long broom handle, the weight down at the end, his downward stroke had been a right-handed one. So now he tried using force from the left side. And with that Challoner made a discovery!

After many experiments it had been gradually borne in upon him that light but incessant and vigorous tamping in one spot was more effective than the heavy, battering strokes employed by the Italians. The stuff was smooth and slippery when it first came in, and, consequently, all that was necessary was something to induce the stones to slip gently into solidity.

"If the tampers were only light enough," he argued to himself, "a fellow could almost use two of them, one in each hand."

And so he tried it with the two tampers that were on the work; but they proved to be too heavy. Then, one night, he made a pair of lighter ones and experimented with them. It was too much of a strain; he could not handle them satisfactorily. Somehow, the work needed the concentrated effort of two arms.

All one night he sat up trying to figure it out. "And yet," he a.s.sured himself repeatedly, "I'm on the right track." And so it proved. For at four o'clock in the morning the idea came.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "A pump handle!"

A week later, Challoner rigged up a simple contrivance depending upon strong leverage--one that would do the work of a man much more easily.

"It will do the work of _two_," he told himself.

But when Challoner had taken it to the works, the authorities refused him permission to use it.

"This here is a real job. We haven't time to monkey with things like that!" they told him with a sneer.

But Challoner was not to be turned aside so easily; and still he persisted:--

"It will do the work of two."

Now it must not be supposed that Challoner was of a particularly inventive nature; not a bit of it. Simply, he was a man of average intelligence, working at a dollar and a half a day. His intelligence, however, was superior to that of the men about him. Moreover, his brain was independently busy, while his hands worked.

So now he rigged himself up a small trial mould, bought some sand and cement and rock, and demonstrated the superiority of his pump-handle contrivance with its strong leverage, its regularity and its strong, steady beat, beat, beat, with two light tampers upon adjacent spots.

When they knocked off the mould, these same authorities found that Challoner was right: this bit of concrete wall was as solid as if it had been cut out of smooth azoic rock. So they called out:--

"All right, Challoner--try it on!"

Challoner tried it on the big wall. It worked like a charm.

At the pay-window, at the end of the week Challoner said:--

"I want two dollars and a half--two dollars and a half a day, now."

"What for?" came from the voice inside.

Challoner replied firmly:--

"Because I've done the work of more than two men." The next day he was paid at the rate of two dollars a day.

Now he was allowed to have one of the corners all to himself for his contrivance. The week after that they laid off two men: Challoner now was doing the work of three men. In fact, from that time he and his machine were made the pace-makers for the entire line of workmen.

The boss was jubilant.

"Gee! I guess we'll get this job done on time after all!" he was heard to say. "I thought for a while the old man was in for a few fines sure."

n.o.body else tried Challoner's device; n.o.body else knew how to use it. In a way, that was a satisfaction to him. It was a toy, something that he had created to lighten his labours. On the other hand, he found that in his eagerness he laboured three times as hard as before; besides, he was even better at the work than the Italians who knew it, had become accustomed to it, and who were better fitted for it. And yet, there was nothing wonderful in this contrivance of his. But Challoner was convinced that if, sometime, he could induce the boss to put it into constant operation, it would save that gentleman a great deal of money.

Nor did it ever enter Challoner's head to have it patented. Its principle was that of the lever, and, of course, even if he had tried, he could not have obtained a patent. In no way was there a dollar in it.

"But," he told himself, "if ever I go into this concrete business, I shall insist upon its use. As a business," he went on, "what can be more profitable than concrete? It produces a wall as solid as a rock and as indestructible as brick. Bricklayers receive five and six dollars a day,--and brick costs money. But this sand, cement, stone and _unskilled_ labour...." Challoner could see millions in it!

Meanwhile, he was useful at two and a half dollars a day. As we have seen, they had made him a pacemaker; now, they determined to put his brain to work for them: it became his duty to direct the mixing-gang at his end of the new store.

"Don't forget, now, watch out," said the superintendent, taking him aside. "So many barrels of cement, so many barrels of sand, and so much stone. Now say it as I told you."

And Challoner repeated for him: so many barrels of cement, so many barrels of sand, and so much stone. But when he was again alone, he said half aloud:--

"So, that's all there is to the concrete business!"

Challoner little knew.

The very first day that he watched the mixing process, he discovered that the mixer had put in too much rock and too much sand--and too little cement.

"Look here!" cried Challoner, "you've made a mistake! Two more barrels of cement go in there--do you understand?"

But the mixer merely grinned.

"Two more barrels of cement, I told you," persisted Challoner. The head-superintendent had given him his instructions, and Challoner meant to see that they were properly carried out.