but bob didn’t have to go down the river to tell his new friend that there was a job waiting for him whenever he chose to come and get it. ted showed up at camp one night just before quitting time. he was waiting for bob when the latter knocked off and had started homewards.
“hello there,” said bob. “what’re you doing up here?”
“i came up after that job we were talking about the other day.”
“your father’s let you go?”
“not so’s you could notice it. we had an awful fight to-day and i just up and left. i couldn’t stand it any longer. do you think there is a chance of my hooking on? i’ve got to have it because i haven’t any money to go any further hunting one.”
then bob told him the news that he had been saving for next sunday. “come along to the quarter-house with me and feed, and then we’ll go hunt whiskers—i mean mr. whitney.”
ted was puzzled at the reference bob had made to the chief engineer. “you called him whiskers—is that your nickname for him?”
“not the one we use on this job,” laughed bob. “we used that back in virginia.” and during supper ted made bob tell the adventures he had had in virginia with the man who was now in entire charge of the dam.
mr. whitney was as good as his word and gave the newcomer a chance to make good as a rodman. bob felt that because he had found him he was a sort of protégé of his and they were together a good part of the time. at first jerry was one of their group. but little by little he slipped back into the mood of silence and reserve which had been most noticeable about him before the trip through the labyrinth had been made. again he would go off by himself, seeming to prefer it to the companionship of the other two boys. bob noticed that very rarely did he go down stream when he started off from the camp, but was headed in the general direction of the north. never since that first day had he invited bob to go along with him and after several of the trips he let fall remarks about the service and his job that did not ring true in bob’s ears. it was as if jerry were nursing a grudge. but the fact that the boy who had shared the great adventure of the labyrinth with him seemed to be growing away from him again, did not bother bob as much as it might have had he and ted hoyt not become such good friends.
on sundays they went fishing together and spent most of the time talking about the service and their work. ted soon grew to have the same passion for the service as had bob. he was quick to learn and together the boys pored over such text books as they could lay their hands on.
the work on the dam had gone smoothly since mr. whitney had taken the job over. except for minor accidents, nothing really bothersome had happened to delay the work in any way, yet bob, who was now constantly with the chief, realized that something was bothering the man he was so fond of. gone was the half chummy, half paternal air of mr. whitney. he was irritable and not at all himself.
finally it got too much for bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he blurted forth, “say, whisk—mr. whitney, what’s gone wrong? is it anything money won’t cure?” he held his breath awaiting the answer. it was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be perfectly justified in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. but he need not have worried. mr. whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy.
“i guess i’ve been a bear lately, bob,” he said laughing. “but i’m up against an awfully queer proposition and i don’t yet see just how to tackle it.”
bob was about to ask another question, but thought better of it.
evidently his keeping silence was wise, for a minute later whitney continued, “although everything seems all right on the surface, i’m afraid there’s going to be trouble with the mexican laborers. somebody’s been tampering with them and the trouble down on the border isn’t helping the situation any.”
“gee, if the greasers struck it would tie us up for fair,” broke in bob anxiously. “except for the mechanics, and that bunch of indians from the reservation, they are about all we’ve got. we would have to shut down, wouldn’t we?”
“i don’t reckon it would be as bad as that,” answered whitney. “when uncle sam once starts something, he is pretty likely to carry it through. but we’d have a rough time of it all right. if i could only find out who’s behind ’em—they are not capable of stirring it up amongst themselves—i’d be able to nip the trouble before it got started. if they do strike and we are delayed, the water users association will start on the rampage again.”
“who are they and why should they be worried by what happens here?” bob wanted to know.
“they are the farmers who expect to benefit by the water stored by the dam,” explained the man. “they are the people who got together and collectively pledged themselves to pay the government a certain amount of money each year until all the money the government has spent is returned. they firmly believe that the engineers in charge of the dam take a malicious pleasure in delaying progress and that they try to spend as much money as possible simply to make the farmers pay more in the end. naturally, as they make such a fuss, all the engineers know that whenever trouble comes, they will be the first mourners.”
“gee, that’s tough!” commented bob, happy that mr. whitney had enough confidence to tell him all these things. “but about the mexicans; you don’t suspect anyone around the job is the trouble maker, do you?”
“no.” the answer was final and assured. “but i wouldn’t put it beyond a lot of the stock and cattlemen around here. they’ve been sore about the dam, with as little reason as they have on every job the service has tackled. they always end by being a lot better off with the project finished than they ever would have been if the range had been left alone. at first they can’t help but suffer some annoyance from the building of the dam. a good part of the land which we will irrigate, while not sufficiently productive to be good farming land, raises enough natural grass to feed stock. above the dam the stored water will form a lake that will cover thousands of acres of such pasturage, i’ll admit. but the cattlemen are so blind that this point is all that they can see. they will have the same chance to profit by the irrigated lands below. it has always worked out well in the end.”
“i think it’s a rotten deal they’re handing you!” exploded the boy.
big chief whitney laughed. “it would have come sooner or later, so don’t worry your head about it. i’ve got to beat this some time and it might as well be now. i’ll find a way. but don’t let this bother you, kid. these are my exclusive troubles. some day or other, if you stay with the service, i suppose you’ll be a chief engineer and then you’ll have to worry over things like this. no use in borrowing trouble.” and with this he closed the talk.
bob could hardly wait until the quitting whistle blew. he wanted to see ted, and wanted to see him in a hurry. when he finally located the other boy, he sketched out rapidly what mr. whitney had said.
“you’re with us—the service, i mean—aren’t you?” finished bob seriously. “even if it means going against what your father thinks is best?”
“you can just bet your boots i am,” returned ted, holding out his hand. bob shook it warmly.
“well, then, i want you to help. the chief needs to know who’s back of the trouble and i believe you can find out!”
“me?” the other boy echoed. “how? shoot!”
“this is the plan. you go back home and say you are sick of engineering—that riding range is good enough for you. if you do that your father will be likely to take you back, won’t he?”
“mebbe so. i dunno, but go on.”
“the chief thinks the cattlemen are behind the trouble. i guess if you get home and can mingle with ’em, you ought to find out what’s up. don’t you?”
“i get you. i can try it anyhow. but, bob, i figger there’s a lot in that trouble down at the border. before i left home some broncho busters happened in from columbus and they said somethin’ was liable to bust most any time. the greasers are sore as pups since we sent a bunch of troops down there. if some yellow half-breed could blow up what we’ve got finished of the dam, wouldn’t it be a mighty fine feather to stick in his sombrero?”
“p’r’aps that’s got something to do with it, but i’ve a hunch mr. whitney’s right about those cattlemen. it’s up to you to find out.”
“i’ll hike up home to-morrow and see if the old man will let me stick around. he was pretty much het up when i left. but, wait a minute. are we going to let jerry in on this play?”
bob hesitated for a perceptible interval before he answered. “i don’t know. somehow i don’t think we’d better,” he said at last. “lately i don’t know what has come over him. he never was very enthusiastic about the service but i thought he was really fond of mr. whitney. but he’s let out some funny remarks and it might be possible that someone has hurt his feelings. i’ve a sneaking notion that we ought not to tell him. i don’t know why, but i just feel it.”
“you’ve got a hunch?” cried ted. “out west here we always play hunches. go to it; you’re probably right. by the way, don’t he go up the river a lot?”
“he starts that way,” answered bob. “and i remember a long time ago he asked me to go up to some ranch with him. it just so happened that i didn’t want to go. it was the day i met you, ted.”
“do you think—” began the other boy.
“i guess we haven’t got a right to think until we know for sure, because if jerry is in cahoots with the cattlemen, we’ll be on to it before long. oh, thunder, ted, i just don’t believe jerry is mixed up in anything wrong.”
“then you’ll let him in on this?”
“i don’t know. i’ve got to think about it some more. p’r’aps i can get him to explain. i’ll try to.”
