Smaltz handed Bruce the paper when he had finished and signed his name. Neither the writing or composition was that of an illiterate man. Bruce read it carefully and handed it to Banule: "Read this and witness it."
Banule did as he was told, for once, apparently, too dumfounded for comment.
"Now copy it," said Bruce, and Smaltz obeyed.
When this was done, signed and witnessed Smaltz looked up inquiringly--his expression said--"What next?"
Bruce stepped to the double doors and slid the bolt.
"There's your trail--now hit it!" He motioned into the wilderness as he threw the doors wide.
Incredulity, amazement, appeared on Smaltz's face.
In the instant that he stood staring a vein swelled on Bruce's temple and in a spasm of fury he cried: "Go, I tell you! Go while I can keep my hands off you--you--" he finished with an oath.
Smaltz went. He snatched his coat from its nail as he passed but did not stop for his hat. It was not until he reached the slab which served as a bridge over the water from the spillway that he recovered anything of his impudent nonchalance. He was in the centre of it when he heard Banule say: "If it ud be me I'd a put a lash rope round his neck and drug him up that hill to jail."
Smaltz wheeled and came back a step.
"Oh, you would, would you? Say, you fakir, I'm glad you spoke. I almost forgot you." There was sneering, utter contempt in Smaltz's voice. "Fakir," he reiterated, "you get that, do you, for I'm pickin' my words and not callin' names by chance. You're the worst that ever come off the Pacific coast--and that's goin' some."
He turned sharply to Bruce.
"You know even a liar sometimes tells the truth and I'm goin' to give it to you straight now. I've nothin' to win or lose. This machinery never will run. The plant was a failure before it was put up. And," he nodded contemptuously at Banule, "nobody knew it better than that dub."
"Jennings," he went on "advised this old-fashioned type of machinery because it was the only kind he understood and he wanted the job of putting it up, honestly believin' at the time that he could. When he realized that he couldn't, he sent for Banule to pull him through.
"Jennings failed because of his ignorance but this feller knows, and whatever he's done he has done knowin' that his work couldn't by any chance last. All he's thought of was gettin' the plant up somehow so it would run temporarily--any old way to get through--get his money, and get out. He's experimented continually at your expense; he's bungled the job from beginning to end with his carelessness--his 'good enough' work.