y for signs of jealousy or antagonism, but could find
none. He went blithely to work on the Six line, where they wanted to
start pouring twenty-pound fragmentation bombs, ably assisted by Tug and
by two new men. One of these was "Doc" or "Bart" Barton, who, the
grapevine said, had been hired by Cappy to be his Assistant. His motto,
like that of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, was to run and find out, and he did so
with glee and abandon. He was a good egg. So was the other newcomer,
"Charley" Charlevoix, a prematurely gray paint-and-lacquer expert who
had also made the Siberian grade.

A few months later, Sumner called Kinnison into the office. The latter
went, wondering what the old hard-shell was going to cry about now; for
to be called into that office meant only one thing--censure.

"Kinnison, I like your work," the Chief Chemist began, gruffly, and
Kinnison's mouth almost dropped open. "Anybody who ever got a Ph.D.
under Montrose would have to know explosives, and the F.B.I. report on
you showed that you had brains, ability, and guts. But none of that
explains how you can get along so well with those damned Siberians. I
want to make you Assistant Chief and put you in charge of Siberia.
Formally, I mean--actually, you have been for months."

"Why, no ... I didn't.... Besides, how about Barton? He's too good a man
to kick in the teeth that way."

"Admitted." This _did_ surprise Kinnison. He had never thought that the
irascible and tempestuous Chief would ever confess to a mistake. This
was a Cappy he had never known. "I discussed it with him yesterday. He's
a damned good man--but it's decidedly questionable whether he has got
whatever it is that made Tugwell, Wanacek and Charlevoix work straight
through for seventy two hours, napping now and then on benches and
grabbing coffee and sandwiches when they could, until they got that frag
bomb straightened out."

Sumner did not mention the fact that Kinnison had worked straight
through, too. That was taken for granted.

"Well, I don't know." Kinnison's head was spinning. "I'd like to check
with Barton first. O.K.?"

"I expected that. O.K."

Kinnison found Barton and led him out behind the testing shed.

"Bart, Cappy tells me that he figures on kicking you in the face by
making me Assistant and that you O.K.'d it. One word and I'll tell the
old buzzard just where to stick the job and exactly where to go to do
it."

"Reaction, perfect. Yield, one hundred percent." Barton stuck