Part 52 (2/2)
When he had gone, Murphy said in a low voice: ”It's too late to lick Fleckenstein. Are we going to lie down on the Boss losing his job, boys?”
”Not till I've beaten the face off Fleckenstein,” said Henderson, softly.
”I want to get in touch with Mrs. Pen,” said Oscar Ames.
”Aw, forget it, Ames!” said Murphy. ”I don't doubt she's a smart girl, but this is no suffragette meeting.”
”Don't try to start anything,” said Oscar. ”Wait till you're married for thirty years like me and maybe you'll have learned a thing or two.”
”Don't quarrel, boys,” said Uncle Denny. ”Me heart is like lead within me. How can I think of Jim as anywhere but with the Service?”
”If he goes, I go,” said Henderson. ”The only reason I stayed up on the Makon was because of him. What's the matter with the wooden heads in this country? I'd like to be fool killer for a year.”
Murphy was chewing his cigar. ”You'd have to commit suicide if you was,”
he said. ”I've tried everything against Fleckenstein except the one way to swing votes in America and that's with whiskey or dollars. Under the circ.u.mstance we can't use either. I'm going to turn in. I'm at the end of my rope.”
Henderson followed Murphy to the door. Oscar Ames forgot to lower his voice. He squared his big shoulders and shouted: ”You blame quitters! I ain't ashamed to ask women for ideas if you are. The women got me into this fight and I'll bet they get me out.”
He nodded belligerently at Uncle Denny and strode out into the night.
Uncle Denny, left alone in the living room, stood long on the hearthrug, talking to himself and now and again shaking his head despondently.
”I mind how after he found himself, he was always making trails in front of the old fireplace in the brownstone front. I mind how he first heard of the Reclamation Service. 'How'd you like that, Uncle Denny,' he said, 'James Manning, U.S.R.S.' What'll he do now, poor lad?
”Thank G.o.d his father's dead, for if he felt worse than I do he'd kill himself. No! No! I'll not say that! He'd have felt like meself that 'twas worth all the sorrow to hear Still put his idea ahead of himself as he did tonight. That's the test of a man's sincerity. And in her heart, his mother'll be glad. She's always worried lest he get killed on one of his dams, bless her heart.”
Uncle Denny moved about the room, closing the door and putting away the cigars. He picked Jim's hat off the floor and patted it softly as he hung it up.
”What'll he do now, poor boy?” he murmured. Then he turned out the light and went to bed.
Jim received a message the next morning, saying that a certain Herr Gluck would reach the dam that afternoon.
”And who is he?” asked Uncle Denny.
”He's an engineer the German government is sending over to see some of the stunts I've been doing on the dam,” said Jim. ”I'll show him round, then I'll turn him over to you for the hour before supper. I want to see old Miguel, who is coming up to the dam.”
”I'm itching to lay hands on him. Does he speak English?”
Jim laughed. ”Better than I do. He's written me a couple of times.”
Jim brought Herr Gluck in over the great road. The German was full of enthusiasm. ”Blasted from solid rock! How not like America! This was built for the future! How did you come to do it?”
Jim smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
”You belong not to this country,” Herr Gluck went on, ”you belong to the old world where they build for their descendants.”
<script>