Brandon of the Engineers Part 10

"Then don't you think you are a fortunate man?"

"In a sense, perhaps," d.i.c.k answered. "Still, that's no reason you should be bored for my entertainment." He paused and resumed: "I'm grateful because you mean to be kind, as you were the night I met you first at the tent. Although you had heard my story, I saw you wanted to make me feel I was being given a fresh start."

Ida studied him with a thoughtful calm that he found embarra.s.sing.

"Perhaps I did, but suppose we talk about something else."

"Very well. If it's not bad form, I wasn't in the least astonished by your lecture about the roofs, because one finds your people have a breadth of knowledge that's remarkable. I once showed an old abbey near our place at home to some American tourists, and soon saw they knew more about its history than I did. There was a girl of seventeen who corrected me once or twice, and when I went to the library I found that she was right. The curious thing is that you're, so to speak, rather parochial with it all. One of my American employers treated me pretty well until he had to make some changes in his business. Took me to his house now and then, and I found his wife and daughters knew the old French and Italian cities. Yet they thought them far behind Marlin Bluff, which is really a horribly ugly place."

"I know it," said Ida, laughing. "Still, the physical attractiveness of a town isn't it's only charm. Besides, are you sure you don't mean patriotic when you say parochial? You ought to sympathize with the former feeling."

"I don't know. Patriotism is difficult when your country has no use for you."

Ida did not reply, and it was a few minutes later when she said: "I'm glad I met you to-night, because we go home soon and there's a favor I want to ask. My brother is coming out to take a post on the irrigation work and I want you to look after him."

"But he mayn't like being looked after, and it's very possible he knows more about the work than I do. I've only had a military training."

"Jake has had no training at all, and is three or four years younger than I think you are."

"Then, of course, I'll be glad to teach him all I can."

"That isn't exactly what I mean, although we want him to learn as much as possible about engineering."

"I don't see what else I could teach him."

Ida smiled. "Then I must explain. Jake is rash and fond of excitement and gay society. He makes friends easily and trusts those he likes, but this has some drawbacks because his confidence is often misplaced. Now I don't think you would find it difficult to gain some influence over him."

"And what would you expect me to do afterwards?"

"You might begin by trying to make him see how interesting his new occupation is."

"That might be harder than you think," d.i.c.k replied. "Molding concrete and digging irrigation ditches have a fascination for me, but I dare say it's an unusual taste. Your brother mightn't like weighing cement in the hot mixing sheds or dragging a measuring chain about in the sun."

"It's very possible," Ida agreed with a hint of dryness. "I want you to show him what it means; make him feel the sense of power over material.

Jake's rather boyish, and a boy loves to fire a gun because something startling happens in obedience to his will when he pulls the trigger.

Isn't it much the same when one gives the orders that shatter ma.s.sive rocks and move ponderous stones? However, that's not all. I want you to keep him at the dam and prevent his making undesirable friends."

"Though it's not the thing I'm cut out for, I'll try," said d.i.c.k, with some hesitation. "I'm surprised that you should put your brother in my charge, after what you know about me."

"You were unfortunate, negligent, perhaps, for once."

"The trouble is that my friends and relations seemed to think me dishonest. At least, they believed that my getting into disgrace was quite as bad."

"I don't," said Ida calmly. "What I ask will need some tact, but if you'll promise to look after Jake, I shall feel satisfied."

d.i.c.k was silent for the next few moments, watching the phosph.o.r.escent foam stream back from the launch's bows. Then he said: "Thank you, Miss Fuller. In a way, it's embarra.s.sing to feel you trust me; but I'll do what I can to deserve it."

Three or four minutes afterwards the launch steamed round the liner's stern and ran into the gloom beneath her tall side. There was a blaze of light above that fell upon the farthest off of the row of boats, past which the launch ran with her engine stopped, and the dark water broke into a fiery sparkle as the swell lapped the steamer's plates. A man came down the ladder when the launch jarred against its foot, and Ida, finding that Fuller was still on board, went up while d.i.c.k steamed across to the cargo-boat that lay with winches hammering not far off. After talking to her mate, he returned to the harbor, and when he landed, lighted a cigarette and studied some alterations that were being made at the landward end of the mole. He had noticed the work as he pa.s.sed with Ida, but was now able to examine it. A number of concrete blocks and cement bags were lying about.

Beckoning a peon who seemed to be the watchman, d.i.c.k gave him a cigarette and asked: "How far are they going to re-face the mole?"

"As far as the post yonder, senor."

It was obvious that a large quant.i.ty of cement would be required and d.i.c.k resumed: "Who is doing the work?"

"Don Ramon Oliva."

d.i.c.k hid his interest. Ramon Oliva was the man he had seen talking to Fuller's storekeeper at the hotel.

"Where does one buy cement in this town?"

"Senor Vaz, the merchant, sells it now and then."

d.i.c.k let the peon go, and leaving the mole, found Vaz in a cafe. Sitting down at his table he asked: "Do you keep cement in your warehouse?"

"Sometimes," said the other; "when work it is required for is going on.

But I sold the last I had two or three months ago."

"I believe we run short now and then, but we have a big lot being landed now. As our sheds will be pretty full, I could let you have a quant.i.ty if you like."

"Thanks, but no," said the merchant. "I do not think anybody would buy it from me for some time, and it is bad to keep when one's store is damp."

d.i.c.k, who drank a gla.s.s of wine with him, went away in a thoughtful mood.

He wondered where Don Ramon got his cement, and meant to find out, though he saw that caution would be needed. He owed much to Fuller and had made his master's business his. Now it looked as if Fuller were being robbed and although he had, no doubt, cunning rogues to deal with, d.i.c.k determined that the thing must be stopped. When he returned to the dam he went to Bethune's hut and found him lying in his hammock.

"Whose duty is it to check the storekeeper's lists?" he asked. "I suppose you strike a balance between the goods delivered him and the stuff he hands out for use on the works."

"It's done, of course," said Bethune. "I haven't examined the books myself; Francois, the Creole clerk, is responsible. However, one would imagine you had duties enough without taking up another, but if you mean to do so, you had better begin soon. Your energy won't stand this climate long."

"I don't know what I may do yet," d.i.c.k replied. "Still, it struck me that our stores might be sold in the town."

"I expect they are, to some extent," Bethune carelessly agreed. "That kind of thing is hard to stop anywhere, and these folks are very smart at petty pilfering. Anyway, you might get yourself into trouble by interfering and any small theft you stopped probably wouldn't pay for the time you'd have to spend on the job. Leave it alone, and take matters as you find them, is my advice."

d.i.c.k talked about something else, but when he went back to his shack he knew what he meant to do.

CHAPTER VIII

AN INFORMAL COURT

One morning, soon after Fuller and his daughter had gone home, d.i.c.k stood at a table in the testing house behind the mixing sheds. The small, galvanized iron building shook with the throb of engines and rattle of machinery, and now and then a shower of cinders pattered upon the roof; for the big mill that ground up the concrete was working across the road.

The lattice shutters were closed, for the sake of privacy, and kept out the glare, though they could not keep out the heat, which soaked through the thin, iron walls, and d.i.c.k's face was wet with perspiration as he arranged a number of small concrete blocks. Some of these were broken, and some partly crushed. Delicate scales and gla.s.s measures occupied a neighboring shelf, and a big steel apparatus that looked rather like a lever weighing machine stood in the shadow.

Where the draught that came through the lattices flowed across the room, Bethune lounged in a canvas chair, and another man, with a quiet, sunburned face, sat behind him. This was Stuyvesant, whose authority was only second to Fuller's.

"Brandon seems to have taken a good deal of trouble, but this kind of investigation needs the strictest accuracy, and we haven't the best of testing apparatus," Bethune remarked. "I expect he'll allow that the results he has got may be to some extent misleading, and I doubt if it's worth while to go on with the matter. Are you sure you have made no mistakes, d.i.c.k?"