The Road Builders. Merwin Samuel

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СКАЧАТЬ talked with Peet, who explained that the materials were always sent forward as rapidly as possible, and added that certain delays had arisen from the extremely dangerous condition of Carhart’s road-bed. Meantime, not only rails and ties, but also food and water, were running short out there at the end of the track.

      “What does he say now, Paul?” asked Old Van, after a long silence, during which these bronzed, dusty men sat looking at the flickering lamp or at the heaps of papers, books, and maps which covered the table.

      Carhart drew a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket and tossed it across the table. Old Van spread it out, and read as follows: —

      MR. PAUL CARHART: Small delay due to shortage of equipment. Supply train started this morning, however. Regret inconvenience, as by order of Vice-president every effort is being made to supply you regularly.

L. W. PEET,Division Superintendent.

      “Interesting, isn’t it!” said Carhart. “You notice he doesn’t say how long the train has been on the way. It may not get here for thirty-six hours yet.”

      “Suppose it doesn’t,” put in Scribner, “what are we going to do with the men?”

      “Keep them all grading,” said Carhart.

      “But – ”

      “Well, what is it? This is a council of war – speak out.”

      “Just this. Scraping and digging is thirsty work in this sun, and we haven’t water enough for another half day.”

      “Young Van is due with water.”

      “Yes, he is due, Mr. Carhart, but you told him not to come back without it, and he won’t.”

      “Listen!” Outside, in the night, voices sounded, and the creaking of wagons.

      “Here he is now,” said Carhart.

      Into the dim light before the open tent stepped a gray figure. His face was thin and drawn; his hair, of the same dust color as his clothing, straggled down over his forehead below his broad hat. He nodded at the waiting group, threw off his hat, unslung his army canteen, and sank down exhausted on the first cot.

      Old Van, himself seasoned timber and unable to recognize the limitations of the human frame, spoke impatiently, “Well, Gus, how much did you get?”

      “Fourteen barrels.”

      “Fourteen barrels!” The other men exchanged glances.

      “Why – why – ” sputtered the elder brother, “that’s not enough for the engines!”

      “It’s all we can get.”

      “Why didn’t you look farther?”

      “You’d better look at the mules,” Young Van replied simply enough. “I had to drive them” – he fumbled at his watch – “an even eighteen hours to get back to-night.” And he added in a whimsical manner that was strange to him, “I paid two dollars a barrel, too.”

      Carhart was watching him closely. “Did you have any trouble with your men, Gus?” he asked.

      Young Van nodded. “A little.”

      After a moment, during which his eyes were closed and his muscles relaxed, he gathered his faculties, lighted a cigarette, and rose.

      “Hold on, Gus,” said Carhart. “What are you going to do?”

      “Bring the barrels up by our tent here. It isn’t safe to leave them on the wagons. The men – some of them – aren’t standing it well. Some are ‘most crazy.” He interrupted himself with a short laugh. “Hanged if I blame them!”

      “You’d better go to bed, Gus,” said the chief. “I’ll look after the water.”

      But Young Van broke away from the restraining hand and went out.

      Half a hundred laborers were grouped around the water wagons in oppressive silence. Vandervelt hardly gave them a glance.

      “Dimond,” he called, “where are you?”

      A man came sullenly out of the shadows.

      “Take a hand here – roll these barrels in by Mr. Carhart’s tent.” A murmur spread through the group. More men were crowding up behind. But the engineer gave his orders incisively, in a voice that offered no encouragement to insubordination. “You two, there, go over to the train and fetch some skids. I want a dozen men to help Dimond – you – you – ” Rapidly he told them off. “The rest of you get away from here – quick.”

      “What you goin’ to do with that water?” The voice rose from the thick of the crowd. It drew neither explanation nor reproof from Young Van; but his manner, as he turned his back and, pausing only to light another cigarette, went rapidly to work, discouraged the laborers, and in groups of two and three they drifted off to their quarters.

      The men worked rapidly, for Mr. Carhart’s assistant had a way of taking hold himself, lending a hand here or a shoulder there, and giving low, sharp orders which the stupidest men understood. As they rolled the barrels along the sides of the tent and stood them on end between the guy ropes Paul Carhart stood by, a rolled-up map in his hand, and watched his assistant. He took it all in – the cowed, angry silence of the men, the unfailing authority of the young engineer. No one felt the situation more keenly than Carhart, but he had set his worries aside for the moment to observe the methods of the younger man. Once he caught himself nodding with approval. And then, when he was about to turn away and resume his study at the table beneath the lantern, an odd scene took place. The work was done. Vandervelt stood wiping his forehead with a handkerchief which had darkened from white to rich gray. The laborers had gone; but Dimond remained.

      “That’s all, Dimond,” said Vandervelt.

      But the man lingered.

      “Well, what do you want?”

      “It’s about this water. The boys want to know if they ain’t to have a drink.”

      “No; no more to-night,” replied Young Van.

      “But – but – ” Dimond hesitated.

      “Wait a minute,” said Van abruptly. He entered the tent, found his canteen where he had dropped it, brought it out, and handed it to Dimond.

      “This is my canteen. It’s all I have a right to give anybody. Now, shut up and get out.”

      Dimond hesitated, then swung the canteen over his shoulder and disappeared without a word.

      “Gus,” said Paul Carhart, quietly.

      “Oh! I didn’t see you there.”

      “Wasn’t that something of a gallery play?”

      “No, I don’t think it was. It will show them that we are dealing squarely with them. I had a deuce of a time on the ride, and Dimond really tried, I think, to keep the men within bounds. They are children, you know, – children with whiskey throats added, – and they can’t stand it as we can.”

      “Gus,” said the chief, taking the boy’s arm and drawing him toward СКАЧАТЬ