"Anyway, you haven't
received more than you deserve, and you never will in this little old
world of ours."
"I don't know about that," replied the new foreman, a sudden flush
rising to his weather-beaten face. "It all seems too good to be true."
"You'll find it to be true enough when you draw your next pay, Griggs,"
laughed Tom. "Then you'll realize that you aren't dreaming. In the
meantime your dinner is getting cold at your boarding place. Don't let
your new job spoil your appetite."
When Tom and Harry rode into town at noon the following day they beheld
a scene of great activity at the site of the destroyed Cactus House.
All the blackened debris had been carted away during the morning by a
large force of men. Now, derricks lay in place, to be erected in the
afternoon. A steam shovel had been all but installed and a large
stationary engine rested on nearly completed foundations.
George Ashby, proprietor of the Mansion House, who had dared, during the
last two days, to show himself a little more openly on the streets of
Paloma, halted just as Tom and Harry stepped out of the automobile to
look over the scene of Foreman Griggs's morning labors.
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