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The Young Engineers in Colorado, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 3. The Day Of Real Work Dawns |
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_ CHAPTER III. THE DAY OF REAL WORK DAWNS The meal was finished in peace after that. It was so hearty a meal that Tom and Harry, who had not yet acquired the keen edge of appetite that comes to hard workers in the Rockies, had finished long before any one else. "You fellers had better hurry up," commanded Jake Wren finally. "It'll soon be dark, and I'm not going to furnish candles." As the cook was an autocrat in camp, the engineers meekly called for more pie and coffee, disposed of it and strolled out of the mess tent over to their own little village under canvas. "Bring over your banjo, Matt," urged Joe. "Nothing like the merry old twang to make the new boys feel at home in our school." Rice needed no further urging. As darkness came down a volume of song rang out. "What time do we turn out in the morning?" Tom asked, as Mr. Blaisdell brought over a camp stool and sat near them. "At five sharp," responded the assistant engineer. "An hour later we hit the long trail in earnest. This isn't an idling camp." "I'm glad it isn't," Reade nodded. Then Blaisdell chatted with the boys, drawing out of them what they knew, or thought they knew, of civil engineering, especially as applied to railroad building. "I hope you lads are going to make good," said Blaisdell earnestly. "We're in something of a fix on this work at best, and we need even more than we have, of the very best hustling engineers that can be found." "I am beginning to wonder," said Tom, "how, when you have such need of men of long training, your New York office ever came to pick us out." "Because," replied the assistant candidly, "the New York office doesn't know the difference between an engineer and a railroad tie. Tim Thurston has been making a long yell at the New York offices of the company for engineers. Knowing the little that they do, our New York owners take anyone who says he's an engineer, and unload the stranger on us." "I hope we prove up to the work," sighed Harry. "We're going to size up. We've got to, and that's all there is to it," retorted Tom. "We've been thrown in the water here, Harry, and we've got to swim---which means that we're going to do so. Mr. Blaisdell," turning to the assistant, "you needn't worry as to whether we're going to make good. We _shall_!" "I like your spirit, at any rate, and I've a notion that you're going to win through," remarked the assistant. "You try out a lot of men here, don't you?" asked Harry. "A good many," assented Blaisdell. "From what I heard at table," Hazelton continued, "Mr. Thurston drops a good many of the new men after trying them." "He doesn't drop any man that he doesn't have to drop," returned Blaisdell. "Tim Thurston wants every competent man that he can get here. Let me see-----" Blaisdell did some silent counting on his fingers. Then he went on: "In the last eleven weeks, Thurston has dropped just sixteen new men." "Whew!" gasped Harry, casting a sidelong glance at his shoes, with visions of a coming walk at least as far back as Denver or Pueblo. "Mr. Thurston isn't going to drop us," Tom declared. "Mr. Blaisdell, Hazelton and I are here and we're going to hang on if we have to do it with our teeth. We're going to know how to do what's required of us if we have to stay up all night finding out. We've just got to make good, for we haven't any money with which to get home or anywhere else. Besides, if we can't make good here we're not fit to be tried out anywhere else." "We're in an especially hard fix, you see," the assistant engineer explained. "When we got our charter something less than two years ago we undertook to have every mile of track ballasted and laid on the S.B. & L., and trains running through, by September 30th of this year. There are three hundred and fifty-four miles of road in all. Now, in July, less than three months from the time, this camp is forty-nine miles from the terminus of the road at Loadstone, while the constructing engineers and the track-layers are thirty-eight miles behind us. Do you see the problem?" "You can get an extension of time, can't you?" asked Tom. "We can---_not_! You see, boys, the S.B. & L. is the popular road. That is, it's the one that the people of this state backed in the main. When we got our charter from the legislature there was a lot of opposition from the W.C. & A. railroad. That organization wishes to add to their road, using the very locations that our preliminary engineering force selected for the S.B. & L. The W.C. & A. folks have such a bewildering number of millions at their back that they would have won away from us, had they been an American crowd. The W.C. & A. has only American officers and a few small stockholders in this country. The W.C. & A. is a foreign crowd throughout in reality, and back of them they have about all the money that's loose in London, Paris and Berlin. The W.C. & A. spent a lot of money at the state capital, I guess, for it was common report that some of the members of the legislature had sold out to the foreign crowd. So, though public clamor carried our charter through the legislature by sheer force, the best concession we could get was that our road must be built and in operation over the entire length by September 30th, or the state has the privilege of taking over our road at an appraised value. Do you see what that means?" "Does it mean that the state would then turn around and sell this road to the W.C. & A. at a good profit?" asked Reade. "You've hit it," nodded Mr. Blaisdell. "The W.C. & A. would be delighted to take over our road at a price paid to the state that would give Colorado quite a few millions in profits. The legislature would then have a chance to spend those millions on public improvements in the state. I think you will understand why public clamor now seems to have swung about in favor of the W.C.& A." "Yet it seems to me," put in Harry, "that, even if the S.B. & L. does fail to get the railroad through in time, the stockholders will get their money back when the state takes the road over." "That, one can never count on," retorted Blaisdell, shaking his head. "The state courts would have charge of the appraising of the value of the road, and one can never tell just what courts will award. Ten chances to one the appraisal wouldn't cover more than fifty per cent. of what the S.B. & L. has expended, and thus our company would be many millions of dollars out of pocket. Besides, if the courts could be depended upon to appraise this uncompleted road at twenty per cent. more than has been expended upon it, our company would still lose, for what the S.B. & L. really expects to do is to bag the big profits that can be made out of the section of the state that this road taps. Take it from me, boys, the officials of this road are crazy with anxiety to get the road through in time, and not lose the many millions that are waiting to be earned by the S.B. & L. getting this road through is all that Tim Thurston dreams of, by night or day. His reputation---and he has a big one in railroad building---is wholly at stake on his carrying this job through. It'll be a big prize for all of us, professionally, if we can back Thurston's fight to win." "I'll back it to win," glowed Tom ardently "Mr. Blaisdell, I am well aware that I'm hardly more than the lens cap on a transit in this outfit, but I'm going to do every ounce of my individual share to see this road through and running on time, and I'll carry as much of any other man's burden as I can load onto my shoulders!" "Good!" chuckled Blaisdell, holding out his hand. "I see that you're one of us, heart and soul, Reade. What have you to say, Hazelton?" "I always let Tom do my talking, because he can do it better," smiled Harry. "At the same time, I've known Tom Reade for a good many years, and his performance is always as good as his promise. As for me, Mr. Blaisdell, I've just told you that Tom does my talking, but I back up all that he promises for me." "Pinkitty-plank-plink!" twanged Matt Rice's banjo, starting into another rollicking air. "I guess it's taps, boys," called Blaisdell in his low but resonant voice. "Look at the chief's tent; he's putting out his candles now." A glance at the gradually darkening walls of the chief engineers big tent showed that this was the case. "We'll all turn in," nodded Blaisdell. So Tom and Harry hastened to their tent, where they unfolded their camp cots and set them up. There was not much bed-making. The body of the cot was of canvas, and required no mattress. From out of their baggage each took a small pillow and pair of blankets. At this altitude the night was already rather chilly, despite the fact that it was July. Rapidly undressing in the dark the young engineers crawled in between their blankets. "Well, at last," murmured Harry, "we're engineers in earnest. That is," he added rather wistfully, "if we last." "We've got to last," replied Tom in a low voice, hardly above a whisper, "and we're going to. Harry, we've left behind us the playtime of boyhood, and we're beginning real life! But in that playtime we learned how to play real football. From now on we'll apply all of the best and most strenuous rules of football to the big art of making a living and a reputation. Good night, old fellow! Dream of the folks back in Gridley. I'm going to." "And of the chums at West Point and Annapolis," gaped Hazelton. "God bless them!" That was not the only short prayer sent up, but within five minutes both youngsters had fallen sound asleep. The man who can sleep as they did, when the head touches the pillow, has many successes still ahead of him! Nor did they worry about not waking in season in the morning. Slim Morris had promised to see to it that they were awake on time. Slam! Bump! Tom Reade was positive he had not been asleep more than a minute when that rude interruption came. He awoke to find himself scrambling up from the ground. Tom had his eyes open in time to see Harry Hazelton hit the ground with force. Then Slim Morris retreated to the doorway of the tent. "Are you fellows going to sleep until pay days" Slim demanded jovially. Tom hustled into his clothes, reached the doorway of the tent and found the sun already well up in the skies. "The boys are sitting down to breakfast," called Slim over his shoulder. "Want any?" "_Do_ I want any?" mocked Tom. He had laid out his khaki clothing the night before, and was now in it, save for his khaki jacket, which he caught up on his arm as he raced along toward the wash bench. Nor had he gone very far with the soap and water when Harry Hazelton was beside him. "Tom, Tom!" breathed Harry in ecstacy. "Do you blame people for loving the Rocky Mountains? This grand old mountain air is food and drink---almost." "It may be for you. I want some of the real old camp chuck---plenty of it," retorted Reade, drawing a pocket comb out and running it through his damp locks while he gazed into the foot-square camp mirror hanging from a tree. "May we come in?" inquired Tom, pausing in the doorway of the engineers' mess tent. "Not if you're in doubt about it," replied Mr. Blaisdell, who was already eating with great relish. The boys slid into their seats, while Bob rapidly started things their way. How good it all tasted! Bacon and fried eggs, corn bread and potatoes, coffee and a big dish of that time-honored standby in engineers' camp---baked beans. Then, just as Tom and Harry, despite their appetites, sat back filled, Bob appeared with a plate of flapjacks and a pitcher of molasses. "Ten minutes of six," observed Mr. Blaisdell, consulting his watch as he finished. "Not much more time, gentlemen." Tom and Harry followed the assistant engineer out into the open. "Can you tell us now, Mr. Blaisdell, what we're to do today?" Reade inquired eagerly. "See those transits?" inquired Blaisdell, pointing to two of the telescoped and compassed instruments used by surveyors in running courses. "One for each of you. Take your choice. You'll go out today under charge of Jack Rutter. Of course it will be a little bit slow to you the first two or three days, but between you, I hope to see you do more than Rutter could do alone. You'll each have two chainmen. Rutter will give you blank form books for your field notes. He'll work back and forth between the two of you, seeing that you each do your work right. Boys, don't make any mistakes today, will you, So much depends, you know, upon the way you start in at a new job." "We'll do the best that's in us," breathed Tom ardently. "Engineer Rutter," called Blaisdell, "your two assistants are ready. Get your two sets of chainmen and make a flying start." Animated by the spirit of activity that pervaded the camp, Tom and Harry ran to select their instruments, while Rutter hastened after his chainmen. Bad Pete had not appeared at either mess this morning. He had small need to, for, in the still watches of the night, he had burglarized the cook's stores so successfully that not even that argus-eyed individual had noticed the loss. Having breakfasted heartily in a deep thicket, Pete now looked down over the camp, his eyes twinkling in an evil way. "I'll get bounced out of mess on account of two pasty-faced tenderfeet like those boys, will I?" Pete grumbled to himself. "Before this morning is over I reckon I'll have all accounts squared with the tenderfeet!" _ |
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