"Dod" had won his spurs.
[Illustration: GEORGE LAUDER]
The ovens were extended from time to time until we had five hundred of
them, washing nearly fifteen hundred tons of coal daily. I confess I
never pass these coal ovens at Larimer's Station without feeling that
if he who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before is a
public benefactor and lays the race under obligation, those who
produce superior coke from material that has been for all previous
years thrown over the bank as worthless, have great cause for
self-congratulation. It is fine to make something out of nothing; it
is also something to be the first firm to do this upon our continent.
We had another valuable partner in a second cousin of mine, a son of
Cousin Morrison of Dunfermline. Walking through the shops one day, the
superintendent asked me if I knew I had a relative there who was
proving an exceptional mechanic. I replied in the negative and asked
that I might speak with him on our way around. We met. I asked his
name.
"Morrison," was the reply, "son of Robert"--my cousin Bob.
"Well, how did you come here?"
"I thought we could better ourselves," he said.
"Who have you with you?"
"My wife," was the reply.
"Why didn't you come first to see your relative who might have been
able to introduce you here?"
"Well, I didn't feel I needed help if I only got a chance.
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