thought you was too steep, and if
I wanted to get the job, why, I'd better--"

"I know," John sneered. "He thinks he knows something about building,
but he is as green as a gourd. I've given you my judgment--take it or
not, Sam, as you think fit. As big as I've made that bid, I'm afraid you
will be sorry you didn't make it bigger."

"Renfro says young folks always aim too high," Cavanaugh ventured,
tentatively. "He's got the money ready, he says, and wants me to win."

John was cutting another brick in halves. His steel trowel rang like a
bell as he tossed the red brick like a ball in his strong, splaying
hand. Cavanaugh took a small piece of a tobacco-plug from the pocket of
his baggy trousers and automatically broke off a tiny bit and put it
into his hesitating mouth:

"I want that job, John," he faltered, as he began to chew. "I've set my
heart on it. It is the biggest deal I ever tackled, and I'd like to put
it through. I want me and you to go up there and work on it. It would be
a fine change for us both."

"Well, I don't want to go if it is a losing proposition," John said, as
he filled his trowel with mortar and skilfully dashed it on the highest
layer of bricks. "And if you cut under my estimate you will come out at
the little end of the horn."

Cavanaugh stood silent. A negro was dumping the contents of a hod on
John's board and scraping out the clinging mortar with a stick. When the
man had gone down the cleated runway and John was raising his line for
another layer of bricks, Cavanaugh sighed deeply.

"Well," he said, "I'll tell you what I'm going to do, John. I'm going to
mail the bid just as you made it out and trust to luck. I'm going to do
it. I admit I've been awfully upset over it, but I can't remember that
you ever gave me wrong advice, young as you are. My wife says I ought to
do it, and I feel so now, anyway."

It was as if John had not heard his employer's concluding words. He was
standing on his tiptoes, leaning over and carefully plumbing the wall on
the outside.

"Yes, I'm going to drop it in the post-office right now," Cavanaugh
said, as he started down the planks. "After all, there may be a hundred
bids sent in, and some of the bidders may have all sorts of political
pulls."

Again John seemed not to hear. He was tapping a protruding brick with
the handle of his trowel and gently driving it into line. "All
right--all right," he said, absently, and he frowned thoughtfully as he
app