his experiments in solar engineering. Both he and Erskine
felt that in a couple of years, at most, Roger would have something
practical to offer the world. Ernest also took an instructorship,
working toward his doctor's degree. His father was delighted. He was
immensely proud of Ernest's work in college, and a full professorship
for Ernest would have meant as much to Papa Wolf as the national
presidency for his boy.

The two years flew rapidly. The summer that he was twenty-five, Roger,
armed with letters of introduction from the Dean, and a roll of
drawings, went to Chicago. He was about to market his dream and he
proposed to give the two summer months to the job. After that--well, the
possibilities staggered even Roger's imagination, which was an active
one.

Haskell and Company, makers of Gas-Engines! The sign was as
inconspicuous as the firm was famous in the middle West. Roger, after
two days of waiting, was staring at the faded gilt letters until the
moment of his interview with Mr. Haskell arrived. He was a little
uncertain about the knees, but very sanguine for all that. Mr. Haskell,
a small man with a grizzled beard, sat behind a desk in a room that was
small and dingy. The desk seemed to Roger an unnecessarily long way from
the door, as he advanced under Mr. Haskell's eyes.

"Well, Sir, so you're one of Erskine's men. Ought to be good. Solar
engine, though, doesn't sound cheerful. What's the idea?"

Roger unrolled his drawings and began his explanations. Haskell listened
with keen interest, asking questions now and again. When Roger, flushed
of cheek, had finished, Haskell lighted his cigar, which had gone out.

"Very clever! Very clever! A nice little experiment. What do you want to
do with it?"

"I want you to manufacture and sell these solar heat plants," replied
Roger boldly.

"I see. But are you sure such a plant is practicable?"

"Absolutely!"

"Where have you had one working?"

"At the University."

"You mean in the laboratory."

Roger nodded. Haskell cleared his throat and looked over Roger's black
head for a minute, then he said:

"My dear fellow, I am a business man, not a philanthropist. When you can
come to me and say, 'I've got a plant in Texas and one in Mississippi
and one in Egypt and they've worked for, say two years, and the folks
want more,' why, then you'll interest me. But I don't see putting a
hundred thousand dollars into a laboratory experiment, however clever."

Roge