t a good promoter, and he started a grand
drive for a rejuvenated pump. The R's rolled out of his busy mouth as
the water had not flowed from the pump in many a day.

A petition a yard long was passed about and everybody signed it with
lukewarm interest. It besought General von Griffenhaus either to have
the cylinder head of the engine removed or a wrench loaned to Tom Slade
for that purpose.

The prisoners did not lose any sleep over this enterprise, for both Tom
and Archer were young and Archer at least was regarded as an
irresponsible soul, whose mission on earth was to cause trifling
annoyance and much amusement. Tom, sober, silent and new among them, was
an unknown quantity.

"Doncher care," said Archer. "Robert Fulton had a lot o' trouble and
nobuddy b'lieved him, and all that."

Tom was ready to stand upon his pronouncement of a cracked water jacket
and, that established, he believed a little bottle of sal ammoniac would
be easy to procure. When the pump was running again they would all be
glad to use it and meanwhile they might laugh and call him the
"consulting engineer" if they wanted to.

At last Archer, having boosted this laggard campaign with amazing
energy, elected himself the one to present the imposing petition to
General von Griffenhaus, because, as he said, he was never rattled in
the presence of greatness, which was quite true. He caught the general
on inspection tour and prayed for a monkey wrench with the humility but
determination of the old barons before King John.

When he returned to their box-stall abode he triumphantly announced that
"Old Griff" had surrendered with the one portentous sentence, "Ach! I
vill see aboud this!" He found Tom sitting back against the board
partition, arms about his drawn-up knees, sober and thoughtful.

"Ain't gettin' cold feet, are you?" Archer asked.

Tom looked at him, but did not speak.

"You ain't afraid there's something else the matter with the engine,
after all, are you?" Archer asked, anxiously. "I don't want this whole
bunch guyin' me--afterr the petition, and all."

"It's the way I said," said Tom dully.

"Not sore 'cause they've been kiddin' us, are you? You can't blame 'em
fer that; they've got nothin' else to do. Look at Columbus, how they
guyed him--and all. But they were thankful afterward all right, all
right--those greasy Spaniards. D'I tell you 'bout the way I----"

"I don't mind their kiddin'," Tom interrupted; "I had a lot of that