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 lights had come to Detroit since he left it; the Edison Electric Lighting and Power Company had established three power stations there. He asked nothing better than a chance to work in one of them.

Charles Gilbert, manager of the plants, was having a hard time that morning. By one of those freaks of Fate which must be left out of any fiction plot because they are too improbable, two of his engines had chosen that day to break down simultaneously. One of the engineers who had been responsible had been summarily discharged; the others were working on the engine in the main plant, and one of the sub-stations was entirely out of commission, with no prospect of getting to work on it until the next day.

Into this situation Henry Ford walked, and asked for a job.

"He looked to me like any tramp engineer," Charles Gilbert says to-day. "A young fellow, not very husky-looking more of a slight, wiry build. You wouldn't have noticed him at all in a crowd. He talked like a steady, capable fellow, but if he had come in on any other day I'd have said we couldn't use him. As it was, I thought I might as well give him a chance."

He listened to Ford looked him over.

"Know anything about steam engines?" he asked him. Ford said he did.

"Well, the engine at sub-station A quit this morning. I got a couple of mechanics working