other man in the corps who can do the pretty draughting about as well."

"Who is he?"

"Hazelton. Harry doesn't do the mathematical part as easily as
I do, but he has a fine talent for fancy drawing, sir."

"Then I'll try Hazelton tonight," decided Mr. Thurston aloud.
"You may go on with your drawing now, Reade. Hello; someone
is coming into camp."

Mr. Thurston stepped over to the doorway in time to see a young
man riding up on a pony.

"Where's the chief engineer?" called the newcomer.

"You're looking at him," replied Mr. Thurston.

The young man, who appeared to be about twenty-eight years of
age, rode his horse to a near-by tree, then dismounted gracefully
and tied his mount.

The young man was well-built, dark-haired and smooth-faced, with
snapping black eyes. There was an easy, half-swaggering grace
about him suggesting one who had seen much of free life in the
open air. For one attired for riding in saddle over mountain
trails the stranger was not a little of a dandy in appearance.
His khaki trousers and leggings, despite his probably long ride,
were spotless. His dark-blue flannel shirt showed no speck of
dust; his black, flowing tie was perfection; his light-hued sombrero