Part 18 (1/2)

”This is distinctly monotonous, and it's about time we struck back to camp. Guess that fellow has tackled too much Red Pine whiskey, and is just walking round to cool himself.”

In answer the foreman grasped the speaker's shoulder, and stretched out a pointing hand. The moonlight touched one angle of the rock upon the opposite sh.o.r.e which encroached upon the frothing water, and the dark figure showed sharply against it. The figure vanished, reappeared, and sank from sight again. When this had happened several times Gillow remarked: ”Perhaps we had better go over. The man's clean gone mad.”

”No, sir!” objected Mattawa Tom. ”No more mad than you. See what he's after? No! You don't remember, either, how mighty hard it was to wedge in the holdfasts for the chain guys stiffening the front of the dam, or how the keys work loose? There wouldn't be much of the boring machines or dam framing left if the chains pulled those wedges out.

Catch on to the idee?”

Gillow gasped. The huge timber framing, which held back the river so that the costly boring machines could work upon the reef, c.u.mbering part of its bed, had been built only with the greatest difficulty, and when finished Thurston had found it necessary to strengthen it by heavy chains made fast in the rock above. The sockets to which these were secured had been wedged into deep-sunk holes, but more than once some of the hard wood keys had worked loose, and Gillow could guess what would happen if many were partially set free at the same time.

”If he hammered three or four of those wedges clear it would only need a bang on another one to give the river its way,” Gillow said excitedly. ”Then it would take Thurston six months to fix up the damage, if he ever did, and n.o.body would know how it happened. The cold-blooded brute's in the maintenance gang?”

”Just so. A blame smart man, too!” a.s.serted Mattawa Tom. ”I guess the boss wouldn't want everybody to know. Rustle back your hardest and bring him along.”

Fifteen minutes later Thurston took his place behind the boulder, and, because the light was clearer now, he could dimly see the man swinging a heavy hammer, against the rock. He knew that the miscreant, whose business was to prevent the possibility of such accidents, need only start a few more keys, which he would probably do when the dam was clear of men, and many thousand dollars' worth of property and the result of months of labor would be swallowed by the river. His face paled with fierce anger when he recognized this fact.

”I want that man,” he declared with shut teeth. ”I want him so badly that I'd forfeit five hundred dollars sooner than miss him. Slip forward, Gillow, as much out of sight as you can, and hide yourself on the other side of the ladder. Mattawa and I will wait for him here, and among us three we ought to make sure of him.”

Gillow, who stole forward stooping, swore softly as he fell over many obstacles on the way. The man they wanted became visible, ascending another ladder across the river. Then, hanging in the suspended trolley, he moved, a black shape clear against the snow--along the wire which stretched high across the gulf. While the others watched him, his progress grew slower on reaching the hollow, where the cable bent slightly under the weight at its center. Suddenly the car's progress was checked altogether, and it began to move in the opposite direction more rapidly than before, while Thurston sprang to his feet.

”Slack the setting up tackles, Gillow. Hurry for your life,” he shouted. ”He'll cast the cable loose and be off by the Indian trail into the ranges, if he once gets across.”

Gillow ran his best, where running of any kind was barely possible even by daylight. He knew that his master was slow to forgive those whose carelessness thwarted any plan, and that, while taking the easier way over instead of crawling round a ledge, he had probably alarmed the fugitive. He reached the foot of the ladder. Climbing up in a desperate hurry, he cast loose the end of the tackle by means of which the cable was set up taut, but neglected in his haste to take a turn with the hemp rope about a post, which would have eased him of most of the strain.

”Got him safe!” cried Tom from Mattawa, scrambling to the top of the boulder, as the curve of the wire rope high above their heads increased. In spite of the fugitive's efforts, the trolley from which he was suspended ran back to the slackest part of the loop that sagged down nearer the river. Thurston, who watched him, nodded with a sense of savage satisfaction. He did not for a moment believe that, of his own initiative, any workman would have made a long journey or would have run considerable personal risk to do him an injury. That was why he was so anxious to secure the offender.

The curve grew rapidly deeper, until the rope stretched into two diagonals between its fastenings on either sh.o.r.e. Then the trolley descended with a run towards the river, and Geoffrey ran forward, shouting, ”The weight's too much for Gillow. Bring along the coil of line from the tool locker, Tom. Hurry, I don't want to drown the rascal.”

What had happened was simple. The cook, endeavoring to take a turn of the line too late, had failed, and the hemp ran through his half-frozen fingers, chafing the skin from them. Seeing Thurston floundering in his direction over the boulders, he valiantly strove to check it, regardless of the pain until it was whipped clear of his slackening grasp and the trolley rushed downwards towards the torrent. Thurston was abreast of it before it splashed in, and had just time to see its occupant, still clutching the rope, drawn under by the sinking wire, before he plunged recklessly into the foam.

The water was horribly cold, and the first shock left him gasping and almost paralyzed. The stream was running fast, and rebounding in white foam from great stones and uneven ledges below. But the distance was short, and Thurston was a strong swimmer, so almost before the man had risen, he was within a few yards of the struggling figure. Hardly had Geoffrey clutched the man before Mattawa Tom, who had, meantime, run down stream, whirling a coil of line, loosed it, and the folds, well directed, shot through the air towards Geoffrey, uncoiling as they came. By good fortune Thurston was able to seize the end and to pa.s.s it around them both, when--for Gillow had by this time joined his companion--the two men blundered backwards up the contracted beach, and Thurston and the fugitive were drawn sh.o.r.ewards together, until their feet struck bottom.

Breathless and dripping, they staggered out, and, because Geoffrey still clutched the stranger's jacket, the man said:

”Mightily obliged to you! But you can let up now there's no more swimming. I couldn't run very far, if it was worth while trying to.”

”You needn't trouble to thank me,” was the answer. ”It wasn't because I thought the world would miss you that I went into the water; but I can't expect much sense from a half-drowned man. Do you think the rest of the boys have heard us, Tom?”

The foreman glanced towards the tents cl.u.s.tered in the mouth of a ravine above, and seeing no sign of life there, shook his head, whereupon Geoffrey directed:

”Take him quietly to the cook-shed, and give him some whiskey. I've no doubt that in spite of my orders you have some. Lend him dry clothes, and bring him along to my shanty as soon as he's ready. Meantime, rouse the maintenance foreman, and, if any wedges have worked loose, let him drive them home.”

”You're a nice man,” commented Mattawa Tom, surveying the stranger disgustedly as the man stood with the water draining from him in the cook-shed. ”Here, get into these things and keep them as a present. I wouldn't like the feel of them after they'd been on to you.”

”That's all right!” was the cool answer. ”I expect the game's up, and I'm quite ready to buy them of you. By the way, partner, you helped your boss to pull me out, didn't you? As I said before, I'm not great on swimming.”

”I'm almost sorry I had to,” said Mattawa Tom, who was a loyal partisan. ”But don't call me 'partner,' or there'll be trouble.”

The stranger laughed, as, after a gla.s.s of hot liquor, he arrayed himself beside the banked-up stove, and presently marched under escort towards Thurston's wood and bark winter dwelling. Mattawa Tom followed close behind him with a big ax on his shoulder.

”I might be a panther you'd corralled. How do you know I haven't a pistol in my pocket, if it was any use turning ugly?” the prisoner inquired.