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The Mexican worked swiftly and at last he had his infernal machine ready. Straightening up, he carried it to the coffer dam and began laying the dynamite sticks at equal intervals along the bank. This dam was constructed of timber backed up by refuse material from the crusher and the excavation. It was neither high nor wide at this time as it only served to divert the ordinary flow of the Rio Grande. It had not been destined to cope with any flood, should one come, as the engineering plan was to get the dam in such shape as to withstand a freshet before the rainy season came on. But the dynamite the Mexican was laying was sufficient to wreck what had been built, and, should the water be released, it would undo thousands of dollars worth of work at the main dam, besides the delay caused by the rebuilding. “You got wet then?” A plan had come to him in a flash. Whitney was needed and needed in a hurry. He was on the other side of the river valley at the head of the spillway. The opposite cableway tower over there was near this spot—if the buckets could go over, couldn’t he? He’d try anyway!.
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Conrad
“All right,” was all he said. “But let’s find the mouth of the tunnel. Hustle up with the grub.” This had a good effect on Jerry. It was as if he had found what he had told Bob in the Labyrinth he most wanted—someone to belong to, a family. He was becoming less serious, less self-contained. "Wish what you like, Command what you will, You alone are Queen and Mistress here." “Let’s go down by the Mexican bunkhouses and see if anything is stirring there,” suggested Ted Hoyt. “It’s on our way and just the three of us won’t attract much attention.”.
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