Murray Leinster (Duke Classic SiFi) by The Runaway Skyscraper

my employ for three or four months. In all
that time I've never had anything but the most impersonal comments
from you. Why the sudden change?"
    The twinkle in his eyes robbed his words of any impertinence.
    "Why, I really—I really suppose I never noticed you before,"
said Estelle.
    "Please notice me hereafter," said Arthur. "I have been noticing
you. I've been doing practically nothing else."
    Estelle flushed again. She tried to meet Arthur's eyes and
failed. She bit desperately into her pigeon drumstick, trying to
think of something to say.
    "When we get back," went on Arthur meditatively, "I'll have nothing
to do—no work or anything. I'll be broke and out of a job."
    Estelle shook her head emphatically. Arthur paid no attention.
    "Estelle," he said, smiling, "would you like to be out of a job
with me?"
    Estelle turned crimson.
    "I'm not very successful," Arthur went on soberly. "I'm afraid I
wouldn't make a very good husband, I'm rather worthless and lazy!"
    "You aren't," broke in Estelle; "you're—you're—"
    Arthur reached over and took her by the shoulders.
    "What?" he demanded.
    She would not look at him, but she did not draw away. He held her
from him for a moment.
    "What am I?" he demanded again. Somehow he found himself kissing
the tips of her ears. Her face was buried against his shoulder.
    "What am I?" he repeated sternly.
    Her voice was muffled by his coat.
    "You're—you're dear!" she said.
    There was an interlude of about a minute and a half, then she pushed
him away from her.
    "Don't!" she said breathlessly. "Please don't!"
    "Aren't you going to marry me?" he demanded.
    Still crimson, she nodded shyly. He kissed her again.
    "Please don't!" she protested.
    She fondled the lapels of his coat, quite content to have his arms
about her.
    "Why mayn't I kiss you if you're going to marry me?" Arthur demanded.
    She looked up at him with an air of demure primness.
    "You—you've been eating pigeon," she told him in mock gravity,
"and—and your mouth is greasy!"

XII
*
    It was two weeks later. Estelle looked out over the now familiar
wild landscape. It was much the same when she looked far away,
but near by there were great changes.
    A cleared trail led through the woods to the waterfront, and a
raft of logs extended out into the river for hundreds of feet.
Both sides of the raft were lined with busy fishermen—men and
women, too. A little to the north of the base of the building a
huge mound of earth smoked sullenly. The coal in the cellar had
given out and charcoal had been found to be the best substitute
they could improvise. The mound was where the charcoal was made.
    It was heart-breaking work to keep the fires going with charcoal,
because it burned so rapidly in the powerful draft of the furnaces,
but the original fire-room gang had been recruited to several
times its original number from among the towerites, and the work
was divided until it did not seem hard.
    As Estelle looked down two tiny figures sauntered across the clearing
from the woods with a heavy animal slung between them. One of them
was using a gun as a walking-stick. Estelle saw the flash of the
sun on its polished metal barrel.
    There were a number of Indians in the clearing, watching with
wide-open eyes the activities of the whites. Dozens of birch-bark
canoes dotted the Hudson, each with its load of fishermen,
industriously working for the white people. It had been hard to
overcome the fear in the Indians, and they still paid superstitious
reverence to the whites, but fair dealings, coupled with a constant
readiness to defend themselves, had enabled Arthur to institute a
system of trading for food that had so far proved satisfactory.
    The whites had found spare electric-light bulbs valuable currency in
dealing with the redmen. Picture-wire, too, was highly prized. There
was not a picture left hanging in any of the offices. Metal
paper-knives bought huge quantities of provisions from the eager
Indian traders, and the story was current in the