badly
splintered, though--would have come through the skin in short order if
you hadn't got the splints on when you did. Where does he live?"

He took George's seat and George climbed over beside the chauffeur. On
the way to Chance's house, he insisted on knowing how Bob had learned to
give First Aid to the injured.

"So you're a Boy Scout, eh?" Another keen glance from those sharp gray
eyes.

"N-no, sir--but I'm going to be."

"Eh? How's that?"

"He isn't quite old enough yet," explained George. "You have to be
twelve or over to join the Boy Scouts. I'm one--but Bob knows a heap
more about it already than I do," he added frankly.

"Ha! Well, I'll have to change my opinion of the Boy Scouts, young man.
I always took it for granted they were a sort of feeder to our regular
army--playing soldier, you know. But if this is the kind of work they
turn out, I don't know but I'll join myself."

George got out when they reached Chance's house, and helped the doctor
carry the injured lad up the steps. "You needn't wait for me," he told
the twins, "I'm going to stay a while."

"Come in and see me some time," Doctor MacArthur called back to Bob. "I
want you to tell me more about your First Aid work! See you later, Mr.
Bruce."

"Home, Jennings," said Bruce. "And be quick about it--I'm late."

Bob leaned back against the cushions and studied the grim, square-jawed
face of the great man whom everybody was so anxious to please. So this
was the way he looked at close range, this self-made, stubborn man of
millions who always managed to bend every other man in his line of
business to his own iron will! As he looked, Bob felt it was no wonder
they all feared him--feared and followed.

For Bruce was the man who, more than all the others put together, was
responsible for keeping Safety First work out of the mills in his line
of business. Hundreds of men were killed and thousands injured every
year in the great string of mills of which Bruce's was the head. Over
and over it had been pointed out to him that the same Safety First work
which had saved thousands of lives in other lines would save them in his
line as well. But he was stubborn, iron-willed.

"You're wasting your time," was all he would say. "No theories or
new-fangled notions in _my_ mills."

Because Bruce said this, all the other mills hung back, too. There were
reasons. They knew Bruce.

All this Bob knew from talks he had had with his father about the risks