The Hallowell Partnership Part 18

"I wish I had a little of your vim, Finnegan." Marian sat down, soaked and breathless, on the step of Sally Lou's martin-box. From that eminence she surveyed the ca.n.a.l and its swarms of laborers. Her eyes clouded.

In spite of her growing interest in Roderick's work, to look upon that work always puzzled her and disheartened her. The slow black water; the ugly mud-piled banks; the ma.s.sive engines throbbing night and day through a haze of steam; the gigantic dredge machines, swinging their great steel arms back and forth, up and down, lifting tons of earth from the bottom of the ditch and placing it on the waiting barge with weird, unerring skill. Most of all, the heavy tide of hurry and anxiety that seemed to rise higher every day. All these things vexed her and hara.s.sed her. When Rod talked over his work with her with all his eager enthusiasm, she could share his triumph or lament his disappointment, as the case might be. But the work itself was so huge, so complicated, that she could never quite grasp it. She could never understand her brother's pa.s.sionate interest.

"Although I don't despise the very sight of camp, as I did at first,"

she reflected. "It is rather queer that I don't, too. Perhaps one can get used to anything. And I do want to learn more about Rod's work, for he loves it so dearly, and I know he wants me to enjoy it too.

Though how anybody can enjoy such a life! To spend day after day, month on month, toiling like a slave in a steaming marsh like this!"

A brisk finger tapped on the window-pane above her.

"Come in, Miss Northerner! Poor dear, you're all but drowned. Stand on the oil-cloth and drip till Mammy can help you to take off those boots and put on my slippers."

Marian entered the dry, warm little house with a sigh of pleasure.

Presently she sat at the window with Thomas Tucker bouncing on her knee. Thomas Tucker had charms that could cheer the most pensive spirit. Yet Marian stared soberly past his bobbing yellow head at the swarming camp below.

"Don't look so droopy, Miss Northerner. Perk up, do!" Sally Lou gave her ear a gentle nip. "You and I will have to manufacture cheerfulness in car-load lots this week, to counterbalance our partners' gloom."

"Why? Have the boys met with more ill-luck on the contract?"

"More ill-luck!" Sally Lou checked off point by point on her slim fingers. "Day before yesterday--the morning after the fire--the district inspector was due here to pa.s.s judgment on the two upper laterals. As you know, the contract provides that the inspector must look over every yard of excavation and approve it before it can be considered as actually done. Lo and behold, no inspector appeared. The boys were wild with anxiety to start their levee-work before the rain should wash the soft new banks down into the ca.n.a.l; for the company is responsible for every cave-in, and every slide of land means double labor in digging all that soil out of the ditch again. By noon the inspector had not been heard from, but two small cave-ins had occurred, and the company was losing money at the rate of thirty dollars an hour, because of the enforced idleness of the laborers and the shutting down of the machinery. Finally Roderick took his launch and started out in search of the inspector. At Grafton he managed to get telephone connections with his office, and he was cheerfully a.s.sured that the inspector would appear on the scene 'as soon as the rain stops.'"

"'As soon as the rain stops?' Why, Sally Lou! Then he hasn't come at all!"

"Precisely. Back came poor Rod, very cross and doleful indeed. Then he and Ned gave up work on the laterals and set the men to hacking away at the regular excavation. The laborers are sulky accordingly.

Yesterday they threatened a strike. I don't blame them. The bank-cutting is all very well in dry weather, but in this rain it is a miserable task."

"Well, Rod can keep the men pacified. He's a splendid manager."

"Yes; and the men like him. But the work is terribly wearing on both the boys. And the third calamity arrived last night. The dipper-handle broke."

"The dipper-handle? On the big dredge? Sally Lou, how dreadful!"

"Yes, it is dreadful. It means, of course, that twenty of the laborers will stop work and enjoy a vacation at the company's expense while the new handle is being made and put in. Luckily the boys have one set of duplicate chains and timbers, and the company blacksmith is wonderfully capable. But it will cost the company a lump loss of a thousand dollars. Imagine, Marian, how those poor boys will groan when they make out their week's reports for President St.u.r.devant. 'One fire. One delay and two cave-ins, due to non-appearance of district inspector. One strike. One smashed dipper-handle.' Think what a dismal task the writing of that report will be!"

"Don't let me hear any more croaking, Sally Lou," came a wrathful voice from the door. "For we're facing the worst smash yet. What do you suppose this telegram says?"

Sally Lou shook a small fist at the yellow slip in his hand.

"Don't you dare tell me that it's some new misfortune!"

"Two of 'em. That lordly, gloomy grouch, Mr. Ellingworth Locke, acting president of the Central Mississippi a.s.sociation, is headed for this luckless camp. He's on his way up-river this identical minute. With him comes Crosby. Crosby, consulting engineer for the whole Valley a.s.sociation. Coming on a tour of inspection, _if_ you please. Just think of the lovely job that they have come a thousand miles to inspect!"

There was a stricken pause.

"President Locke! That--that potentate! Ned, you don't mean it! And Mr. Crosby, whose word is law on every question of engineering!"

"And they're coming to-day! To 'inspect' this soaking, miry, half-baked camp!"

"And just this minute I've had some more news, Burford." Roderick bolted up the steps and entered the room. He tried to wrench his face into a rea.s.suring grin; but beneath the grin he was the picture of angry dismay. "A big white launch is just coming up the ca.n.a.l, with two pa.s.sengers aboard. If I'm not mistaken, they are our honored guests. Come along, Burford, and help me welcome them."

Burford, pop-eyed with amazement, meekly obeyed. Wordless, the two girls watched the boys pelt away toward the landing.

"Well!"

Sally Lou and Marian looked at each other eloquently.

"Well! I could find it in my heart to wish that the boys were not obliged to unfold quite so many tales of misery! Then the broken machinery and the quarrelling laborers! But we mustn't let ourselves fidget over it, Marian. It will come out all right, somehow."

Roderick and Burford pounded down to the sh.o.r.e. The white launch was just putting into the landing. At the bow sat Mr. Ellingworth Locke, wrapped in a huge storm coat. Evidently he was scolding the launch pilot with some energy. Behind him stood Crosby, his gray, keen eyes searching every inch of the ditch construction.

"His Jove-like Majesty looks even grumpier than usual," whispered Burford the irreverent. "Come along, Hallowell. It is our professional duty to welcome them with heart and soul."

"Mr. Burford?" Mr. Locke stepped upon the landing and put out a plump gloved hand. "Ah, Mr. Hallowell? How goes it? We hope that you have no ill news of the contract to give us." He led the way up the sh.o.r.e, with ponderous dignity. "The three contracts in central Illinois, which we have just inspected, have shown deplorable results from the high water. I trust that you have no such misfortunes to report."

"We haven't anything but misfortunes to report," muttered Burford.

Aloud he said, "We have not been able to bring the work to the desired point, sir. We have had several accidents and delays. If you can face the discomforts of a boat trip in this rain, perhaps you will make a tour of inspection and see how matters stand."

The honorable Mr. Locke hesitated. The ca.n.a.l looked very muddy and uninviting. The sky was black with rain clouds.

"Perhaps it would be as well for us to confer with you. Then we could go back to Saint Louis immediately."

"Beg pardon, Mr. Locke." Mr. Crosby spoke for the first time. His gray face had no particular expression; but his voice held an oddly pleasant note. "You go back right away, if you like. But I'll look over this excavation with my own eyes. I want to discuss it with the executive committee day after to-morrow."

"Oh, of course, if you insist!" Mr. Locke turned impatiently to Burford. "Where is your boat, sir? Let us start at once."

That tour of inspection! Silent, humiliated, miserable, Roderick and Burford plodded after the two Olympians, up and down the narrow laterals, back and forth through the maze of seeping, half-cut channels. Every question that they must answer told of some unlucky happening. Every report was apologetic, unsatisfactory.

"This ruinous high water isn't our fault. Neither is Carlisle's illness, nor the broken dipper-handle, nor the district inspector's delay. Just the same I feel like a penny-in-the-slot machine for grinding out explanations," whispered Roderick to Burford. Burford merely scowled in reply.

Thus far, Mr. Crosby had had nothing to say. He strode on ahead, his keen eyes judging, his shrewd mouth shut hard. President Locke made up for his silence. He hectored the boys with fretful questions and complaints. He criticised the laborers, the equipment, the weather.

"Your company's losses, indeed! The Breckenridge Company will be fortunate, Mr. Burford, if, under the present management, this contract does not bring forfeitures as well as loss. As for the land-owners in this district, their dissatisfaction can be only too readily imagined."

Just then the president caught Mr. Crosby's eye.

"Do you not agree with me, Mr. Crosby? Is not this a most disheartening outlook? On my word, sir, the company has no chance to complete those laterals before the great June freshets. That calamity will mean ruin for the farmers and for the contract alike. To finish this work would be difficult with a full quota of experienced men. And with only cub engineers--" He threw out both fat hands, with a gesture of despairing scorn.

Burford bit his lip and turned fiery red with mortification.

Roderick's stolid face did not flinch. But his heart sank leaden to his miry boots. What an infuriating humiliation for the company! His company, the pride of his boy heart! And Breckenridge, Breck his hero, would have to hear it all!

"You think it's as bad as all that?" Mr. Crosby spoke with slow, bland unconcern. Then he looked at the two boys. For one moment his lean gray face lighted with a curious, kindly sparkle. "H'm! Strikes me that their company is mighty lucky to have cub engineers employed on this job."

"'Lucky?' Why, sir? Why?"

"Well, because they're the only kind that any company can depend upon to have nerve enough and grit enough to swing such a forlorn hope of a contract through."

He tramped on, up the landing. Burford threw back his shoulders. The blood flamed to his ears. Roderick's heart suddenly leaped up to its normal alt.i.tude and began to pound. His lagging feet swung into a jaunty stride. He met Burford's red, delighted face with a shamefaced grin. That vote of confidence had fairly set them afire.

"At what time had we best start back to Saint Louis?" asked Mr. Locke.