In the Shadow of the Hills Part 20

"I'd be more than delighted to show you the work. But--I wonder----"

"Don't let what people say disturb you," she replied quickly, divining his thought. "I've arranged all that." A somewhat obscure remark to Weir.

"Then come any time--and often. I hope to be able to conduct you around, the first visit at least. Next week I may not be able to do so as a committee of directors arrive who'll take my time."

"Oh, indeed," Janet answered, politely.

"A manager has to be directed occasionally, or he may run wild," she heard, with his laugh.

"I'll come before they do," she said.

Quite as she had announced she did run up to the canyon and go with Weir over the hillsides and dam, asking questions and displaying a great interest in the men and the operation of the machinery. The concrete work was nearing an end. Already tracks were laid for the dump trams that were to carry dirt from steam-shovels to the dam to form its main body.

She perceived the immense labor of the project and the coordinated effort required. The necessity in itself of dragging hither from Bowenville all of the supplies, the material, the huge machines, was overwhelming. The responsibility of combining scientific knowledge and raw industry to an exact result struck her as prodigious. The handling of hundreds of subordinate workmen and a.s.sistants of various grades and skill demanded exceptional ability, understanding, will and generals.h.i.+p. Yet these things the man at her side, Steele Weir, accomplished and supplied; and appeared quite calm and unmoved about it, as if it was all a matter of course.

She glanced at the ground, flus.h.i.+ng. The thought of Ed Sorenson, making only a pretense of doing anything useful and because his father was rich doing nothing in reality but waste himself in vicious practices, was in her mind. What must have the engineer believed of her all this while when he knew Sorenson's true nature and infamous record? Did he suppose her a light-headed feather, indifferent to everything except that her husband should be rich? Very likely. There were plenty of girls of that type. He naturally would suppose her one.

And she could say nothing to put herself in a better light and to gain his respect--for that she now desired greatly. She saw him as he was, a big man, a strong man, a man whose respect was to be prized. Beside him she felt herself small and ordinary. That was all right, but she was determined he should not believe her insignificant, shallow, unworthy, mercenary.

While she could not explain matters openly without shaming herself and still lowering herself in his estimation, he being only an acquaintance, yet there were ways of getting at the end. Janet could act adroitly, like most women, when it best served the purpose.

"Do you know, I just learned from friends of yours on Terry Creek that you're a public benefactor as well as an engineer," she stated, when they paused on the hillside for a last look at the dam.

"I?" he exclaimed.

His eyes came around and found hers fixed on him.

"I happened to stop at the Johnson ranch. They didn't say so, but I know they would be pleased to death if you would go to dinner there some day. They have some fine fat chickens, if you like chicken fried or baked, and they hesitate to ask you only because they're afraid you'll refuse."

"Fried chicken is my weakness. Of course I'll go; at the first spare chance."

But all the while Steele Weir's mind was eddying with wonderment. He had colored at mention of the Johnson ranch, as if he had been caught with a hand in a jam pot. And it meant only one thing: she knew of the Bowenville episode. Involuntarily his eyes flashed to her left hand with which she was brus.h.i.+ng back the hair under her hat brim. There was no diamond solitaire on its third finger. Surely, something had happened.

"Well, I must be returning home. I just thought I'd give you a tiny hint," said she. An odd smile rested on her lips as she spoke, for hints may carry multiple suggestions.

"By Jove!" Weir said suddenly.

Man of action though she knew him to be, she never antic.i.p.ated he would or could act so directly. He reached out and seized her left hand and scanned it significantly. Then he raised his eyes.

"What does this mean?" he asked, tapping the finger with one of his own. "Does this mean----"

It was Janet's turn to become scarlet. She tried to smile again, but it was a wavering smile that appeared.

"What does what mean?" she fenced.

"That--well, that the ring is off permanently?"

"Oh, yes."

"And that there's now a chance for me?"

Janet's eyes at that popped open very wide indeed. Meanwhile Weir still held to the palm resting in his own.

"You?" she breathed, faintly.

"Me, yes."

Presently with a gentle movement she drew her hand free. She had been quite dumbfounded, but not so dumbfounded that she did not realize that this new situation had requirements of its own. He appeared absolutely sincere and resolute.

"But I never dreamed of such a thing!" she stammered.

"Nor I--because until now I hadn't the right. All I ask is that you give me your friends.h.i.+p--and a chance--and--well, we'll see."

"There's no reason why we shouldn't be friends," said she. "We are already, aren't we?"

"Yes--now. I never actually thought so before."

"Things have changed," she stated. And her lips closed with a firm pressure as she spoke. "Or I shouldn't have been here inspecting the dam, should I?" Again the smile flashed upon her face. "You may consider this a preliminary inspection to that of your high and mighty directors, and I a.s.sure you my verdict--is that the word?--is favorable. Now I must be going to the car. Father likes his meals on time."

"And when shall I see you again?"

The note of eagerness in his voice set her heart moving a bit faster.

If he carried on his engineering work as he did his friends.h.i.+p, no wonder he got things done.

"Why, when you wish to call, Mr. Weir. Both father and I shall be pleased to have you come any time."

"I'll certainly avail myself of the privilege," said he. "You must really go now?"

With a feeling of exaltation at this new turn of affairs he watched her drive away from camp, a feeling that persisted during the succeeding days.

The three directors arrived. That was Thursday evening; and Friday and Sat.u.r.day were devoted to a discussion of construction plans, inspection of the works, a.n.a.lysis of costs and so on. Weir found the men what he expected: quick to comprehend facts, incisive of mind, and though of course not engineers yet able to measure results; while they on their part were appreciative of the exceptional progress made and of his thorough command of the project. They knew the first hour that the right manager was in charge at last.

Sat.u.r.day afternoon Sorenson and Judge Gordon called at headquarters, by appointment, to discuss the grievance held locally against the company. Weir was present at the meeting.

"As to whether the Mexican workmen who were discharged were actually giving a full return in work for the wages, as you maintain, gentlemen," said Mr. Pollock, one of the directors and a corporation lawyer from New York, in reply to the visitors' statement, "that is a question not of opinion but of fact."

"Fact, yes," Judge Gordon argued. "Fact supported by the evidence of the three hundred workmen against that of a single man, your manager, who had just come."

"Are not your three hundred men prejudiced witnesses?" the New Yorker inquired, a slight smile upon his thin face.

"No more than is Mr. Weir."

"But Mr. Weir is the manager and consequently has the power of decision in such matters."

"Not to the extent of revoking unfairly your promise, given orally, to be sure, but still given, to employ local labor." Sorenson was the speaker and his heavy face wore an expression of ill-disguised contempt.

"Agreed. Local labor was to be hired," said Pollock. "But our company isn't a philanthropic inst.i.tution; it's run on strictly business principles. Any agreement we made implied that local workmen should give exactly what other workmen would give in work."