"Don't make me a present of a photograph of this awful place. It's
photographed on my brain now, and burned in and baked there. If we ever
get through with the Man-killer, and get our money, I never want to see
this spot again."

"I'm not thinking at all of the money," Reade retorted lightly yet
seriously. "I don't care about the money at present. Nothing will ever
satisfy me in life again until I've beaten the Man-killer fairly and
squarely. It's the one thing I think about by day and dream of at
night."

"I know it," sighed Harry half pityingly.

"Well, what else should we think about?" Tom demanded in a low voice.
"Harry, we have the very job, the identical problem, that has thrown
down nearly a dozen engineers of fine reputation. Why, boy, this place
may be out on the blazing desert, and there may be a dozen
discouragements every hour, but we've the finest chance, the biggest
unsolved problem in engineering that we could possibly have. It's
glorious."

Tom's eyes glowed.

"Go away," grinned Hazelton mischievously, "or I'll catch some of your
enthusiasm."

"You don't need any of it," Reade retorted laughingly. "You've tons of
enthusiasm stowed away for future use. You know you have."