The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-09-28


 'Marsh will take care of me-" gasped O'Leary. Hurry! Do as told you"
 Reluctantly Lucy ran out of the office as the head draughtsman came over to the injured man.
 Whats happened. O'Leary?"
 The assistant foreman was almost too weak from the shock and loss of blood to reply, but he managed to gasp out faintly:
 Smith cracked me with a hammer when wasn't looking. He's f1ghting drunk, Mr. Marsh, and ruining the Sommers gun.''
 Marsh. experienced about the works, was examining O'Leary's wounded head with almost professional skill.
 You've got a bad rap. boy. We must rush you to the doctor"
 He stepped to the door leading into the works and yelled for two men, then came back to do what he could. Pinckney had almost at the same mo- ment returned from his private office.
 Whats this?" he exclaimed as he saw the bloody O'Leary half lying across an office table.
 The work man, injured though he was. still held to his grim determina- tion to get justice for Sotners. At Pinckney's question he half raised himself on the table.
 'It's Smith, sir,'' he said to the gen. eral manager He's leaving that gun too long in the furnace. l kicked and he hit me when my back was turned. I'll fix him.
 T Pinckney looked at the bloody man coldly.
 You ought to have more sense than to kick he said. Smiths in charge of that job. He's responsible. It's none of your business. You ought to have kept your head shut.'
 O'Leary stared at the manager, too amazed to retort. He was still half dazed from the terrific blow he had received or his suspicious would have been immediately aroused. The two men had entered from the works and stood ready. They knew just what to do.
 Here" ordered Pinckney, ''take this fellow across to the doctor quick. Tell him it's works case"
 The two men seized O'Leary, picked him up in their arms and hurried with him out of the office.
 Marsh turned to the general mana ger.
 We've got to stop this, Mfr. NPinck- ney," he exclaimed. Smith is fight ing drunk
 Pinckney nodded carelessly. "Oh, yes. l understand, but I'll see to Smith. There's something more i'm portant on now. I've just got wire from my agent in Washington"
 About my gun?" asked Marsh anx- iously. sH
 About the Rhinestrom gun,'' came Pinckney's cold correction.
 The head draughtsman nodded ac- Quiescence.
 Yes. that's what mean," he agreed.
 Pinckney took a telegram out of his pocket.
 Well. there's. all sorts of trouble in Washington" he explained. '"Tomor- row they'll notify us not to begin on the Rhinestrom order until the. Som- mers gun is tested"
 What of that?'' asked Marsh blank ly. 1t only means a slight delay"
 Pinckney made an impatient gesture
 Slight delay. nothing! Haven't you sense enough to see it's game of this toy sailor. Sommers? They'll counter mand the order for our gun after they test his just as sure as fate"
 Marsh dropped into a chair deject- edly.
 "Just my luck~ he exclaimed in dis treSS. That's the end of my royalty might have known. It always hap pens that way with me. never have any luck"
 Pinckney stood looking, a sneering smile on his face.
 "That's it." he said contemptuously "Lay down. That's the reason your luck is always bad and always will be bad. A quitter can't have any luck. How do you expect to have anything if you drop at the first ditch?'
 The inventor looked up, puzzled.
 What can 1 do:', he asked.
 Pinckney smiled pityingiy on him.
 What can you do? Haven't you sense enough to guess? Here''-he stepped closer to the inventor to speak in lower firmer tone-"this dirty, tricky sailor has got the best of us in  Washington. but with Smith drunk I guess we've got the best of him here."
 Marsh looked up. startled. amazed. Some slight hint of what Pinckney in- tended began to dawn on him.
 What do you mean?' he asked slowly in an almost dazed tone.
 The general manager looked at him sharply.
 What time did you say Sommers would get here?''
 "One-thirty," replied Marsh. . Pinckney's laugh was rich with con- fdent relief
 Well, there's. lots of time. It isn't 12 yet" he chuckled.
 On Marsh's face had come an expres- sion of horror. He knew now what the general manager intended to do 1t made him sick to think of it. for Marsh was honest at heart. Only he was an inventor. He loved his work. It was his chance of a lifetime. And, then, he was weak. You mean you will ruin his gun" he half whispered faintly