the pumps very shortly; there was always too much work for the pumps in
Section D, and so too little time and opportunity for more progressive
labour. Then, disregarding the obviously slippery state of the
transverse beams, he stepped on to one of them, and stood poised for a
moment over sixty feet of hungry voidness.

"Come over to the other side," he said to Garstin. "You cannot see what
is going on below from where you are. Why, what----?"

Garstin, after placing one foot on the beam, had drawn back, a leaden
pallor showing unmistakably under his skin.

Trevannion stared at him. The laugh, the jeer, that had risen in his
heart at this sudden failure of nerve never found expression. There was
something in the young fellow's face that spoke of more than a qualm of
nervousness. It was a pitiful terror that met Trevannion's eyes--the
pleading terror of a dumb, helpless animal before a human tormentor.

For a moment the engineer stood irresolute. Two men, engaged in mixing
cement a few yards distant, had laid down their spades, and, having
heard Trevannion's invitation to cross the beam, were looking at "the
new bloke" in mild wonder as to why he hesitated. A third was slowly
trundling a wheelbarrow full of sand towards them. Trevannion took in
these details in a flash--and realised their significance. Here was an
easy chance of shaming Garstin before the gang, of convicting him of
rank and unprofessional cowardice, of getting his own back again from
the office-desk theoretician, yet--an uncontrollable impulse of
generosity prevented his seizing it. He stepped on to the bank and stood
beside the fear-struck figure.

"You _must_ come on," he said in a whisper that was little more than a
breath. "Pull yourself together. I'll hold you."

An instant later, and for an instant only, the two stood together on the
narrow beam, Garstin a shrinking form, his every limb shaken by
something more potent than the gusty wind, his face turned anywhere but
downwards. Trevannion did not hold him, but his hand rested reassuringly
on the other's quivering arm. For an instant only, and then Garstin was
pushed on to the firm bank again and hurried towards the office.

Trevannion talked jerkily as soon as they were out of earshot of the
gang. "Sudden attack of funk--rather a bogie place on a slippery
day--might happen to anybody--get used to it--dance a jig on top of the
king pile one day, and wonder how you could ever have been such a-