Part 10 (1/2)
”Too busy over this Arizona dam,” said Griffith, jerking his pipe towards the drawings on his desk.
”What dam?” demanded Blake, bending forward, keenly alert.
”Zariba--big Arizona irrigation project. Simple as A, B, C, except the dam itself. That has stumped half a dozen of the best men. Promoters are giving me a try at it now. But I'm beginning to think I've bitten off more 'n I can chew.”
”You?” said Blake incredulously.
”Yes, me. When it comes to applying what's in the books, I'm not so worse. You know that, Tommy. But this proposition--Only available dam site is across a stretch of bottomless bog, yet it's got to hold a sixty-five foot head of water.”
”Je-ru-salem!” whistled Blake. ”Say, you've sure got to give me a shy at that, Grif. It can't be worked out--that's a cinch. Just the same, I'd like to fool with the proposition.”
Griffith squinted at the younger engineer through his pipe smoke, and grunted: ”Guess I'll _have_ to let you try, if you're set on it.” He nodded to Lord James. ”You know how much use it is bucking against Tommy. The boys used to call him a mule. They were half wrong. That half is bulldog.”
”Aw, come off!” put in Blake. ”You know it's just because I hate to quit.”
”That's straight. You're no quitter. Shouldn't wonder if you held on to this dam problem till you swallowed it.”
”Stow the kidding,” said Blake, embarra.s.sed.
”I'm giving it to you straight. This dam has made a lot of good ones quit. I'm about ready to quit, myself. But I'll be--switched if I don't think you'll make a go of it, Tommy.”
”In your eye!”
”No.” Griffith took out his pipe and fixed an earnest gaze on Blake.
”I'm not one to slop over. You know that. I can put it all over you in mathematics--in everything that's in the books. So can a hundred or more men in this country. Just the same, there's something--you've got something in you that ain't in the books.”
”Whiskey?” suggested Blake, with bitter self-derision.
”Tom!” protested Lord James.
”What's the use of lying about it?” muttered Blake.
”You've no whiskey in you now,” rejoined Griffith. ”I'm talking about what you are now,--what you've got in your head. It's brains.”
”Pickled in alcohol!” added Blake, more bitterly than before.
”That's a lie, and you know it, Tommy. You're not yet on the shelf--not by a long sight.”
Blake grinned sardonically at Lord James. ”Hear that, Jimmy? Never take the guess of an engineer. They're no good at guessing. It's not in the business.”
”Chuck it. You know you've got something worth fighting for now.”
”Lots of chance I'll have to win out against you!” Blake's teeth ground together on his unlighted cigar. He jerked it from his mouth and flung it savagely into the wastebasket. But the violent movement discharged the tension of his black humor.
”Lord! what a grouch I am!” he mumbled. ”Guess I'm in for a go at the same old thing.”
Griffith and Lord James exchanged a quick glance, and the former hastened to reply: ”Don't you believe it, Tommy. Don't talk about _my_ guessing. You're steady as a rock, and you're going to keep steady.
You're on the Zariba Dam now,--understand?”
”It's a go!” cried Blake, his eyes glowing. ”That fixes me. You know my old rule: Not a drop of anything when I'm on a job. Only one thing more, and I'm ready to pitch in. I must get Mollie to put me up.”