In six months after Loring had taken charge, the Kay mine was producing on a paying basis. What those six months had accomplished was little short of marvelous. At the time of the arrival of the new manager, everything had been in an extreme state of disorganization. Unused machinery stood uncovered and rusting. The pumps were hardly more than holding the water in the shafts. No new timbering had been put in place to supplant the old, which was dangerously rotten. The costly electric lighting plant had been almost ruined by neglect. Discord had been reigning between the various heads of departments, and discord in a community in which there is no recreation, and from which there is no way of escape, is a dangerous element. When Loring had assumed control, in explanation of failures each worker had murmured complaints of others. At the mess there had been gloomy silence, in contrast to the[228] joviality which had prevailed at the old mess in Quentin. Distrusted and disliked, Loring had firmly pursued his course until that course was justified, and the criticism and hatred had turned to respect and admiration. He had worked night and day, attending to everything himself. Loring was tireless in his enthusiasm, and he had inspired the men under him to do their work better than they knew how. The result was that by this time, the system of a well-built machine had supplanted the previous chaos. And though it was far from a perfect machine, each day was adding to its efficiency.
The nervous irritability of the mess had been relieved by the arrival of an old friend. One day Hop Wah had drifted into Stephen’s office and after announcing solemnly: “Me canned, too,” had stood waiting expectantly until Loring had ordered him installed as assistant cook in the company eating-house. Within a week after this the meals had become joyous occasions. Wah would dance from man to man as he served the meals, murmuring insults which pleased even the insulted, and provoked roars of laughter at the victim’s expense. When he had some particularly bold insult to[229] deliver, he would sing it from the kitchen window. The singing lent impersonality and the distance safety. Soon the refrain and interlude of his old song, “La, la, boom, boom,” were as well known, and as popular in Kay, as they had been in Quentin.
Radlett had told Loring that there would be much work for him to do, and he had not been guilty of exaggeration. Night after night the electric light beneath the green tin reflector in the office had burned until well into the morning. Then a watcher might have seen it go out suddenly, before a tired man turned the key in the office door.
The increase of efficiency in the work at the Kay mine was due to one thing,—the ceaseless vigilance of Stephen Loring, and the outward circumstances were only the manifestation of the changed conditions within himself. One who had known Loring, the failure, would scarcely have recognized Loring, the success. The chin line no longer drooped, his smile showed honest pride in the goodness of his work, his movements were alert, his head thrown back. His skin was ruddy and his eyes clear, yet the marks about his mouth showed traces[230] of the struggle through which he had passed, and there were new lines of care lying in furrows across his forehead. He had aged under responsibility, and something of the old, lazy charm which had endeared him to his friends was gone; but a stranger looking at him would have appreciated at once that here was a man of force, one who meant to be master, and who was fitted to be.
It is possible that the change in his dress contributed as much as the more subtle developments, for Loring, in his blue suit, soft white shirt, and well-oiled tan boots, was a very different looking man from the shabbily clothed wanderer who had sought work last year in Ph?nix.
On one autumn afternoon Stephen sat at the desk in his office, engaged in dictating a report to the directors of the Company. Above the rattle and click of the typewriter his voice rose and fell monotonously: “The construction work alone is behind. Within the workings three new stopes have been opened since last report, at positions marked on the enclosed print. The ore in these has been running high, averaging”—(he paused and glanced at the[231] assayers’ report lying on the table beside him) “averaging twelve per cent copper. If the contact vein continues to run in its present direction, the ore from the new stopes which we are opening may be reached cheaply by means of winzes from the three hundred foot level.” Loring verified this carefully from the foreman’s report, then nodded to the stenographer to proceed. “The cost of production has been reduced five per cent in the last month. If the present favorable prices for the coke continue, I hope to reduce this still more. I enclose for the first time a detailed statement of expense distributed per department, made possible by the new system of bookkeeping which has been adopted.” Here he paused. “That is all for the present,” he said.
Then he picked up the construction report and with a frown reread it. “That is bad work,” he murmured. “With all the men whom Fitz had under him, he should have done better, and accomplished more.”
“Oh, Reade!” he called to the stenographer who had gone into the back room, “come back here! I have something to add to that report.”
The stenographer came in, and again took his place before the typewriter.
[232]
“Owing to the slowness of the work on the exterior construction, I have found it necessary to dispense with the services of Mr. Fitz.”
Reade looked up in surprise. “Are you going to ‘can’ him?”
Stephen made no answer, but continued to dictate: “I have secured the services of a very good man, who until recently has been at the head of that work in the Quentin Mining Company and who, I think, will fill the position very satisfactorily.” “That is all, Reade.”
The stenographer left the room, whistling softly. “He sure acts with precision,” murmured Reade, as he closed the door. “When Fitz answered back at mess the other night, I knew h............