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The great waves were now driving the boat in towards the shore, but unfortunately to the outer, dangerous side of the Tongue.,

The door of the draughting room was open into the hall where the telephone central was seated. Her job was trying to keep in touch with all the different division chiefs so that they might be found if any emergency should occur. Therefore Bob knew that he would hear what was the cause of this especial emergency that had galvanized Jerry into such a tremendous haste.,

Mr. Whitney was silent a minute as he thought over Jerry’s plea for the captive.,

“You’ve been bully to me, Dad.”

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“They are the farmers who expect to benefit by the water stored by the dam,” explained the man. “They are the people who got together and collectively pledged themselves to pay the Government a certain amount of money each year until all the money the Government has spent is returned. They firmly believe that the engineers in charge of the dam take a malicious pleasure in delaying progress and that they try to spend as much money as possible simply to make the farmers pay more in the end. Naturally, as they make such a fuss, all the engineers know that whenever trouble comes, they will be the first mourners.”,

The time was to come sooner than either Taylor or Whitney expected. The Chief Engineer had been so busy familiarizing himself with all the details of the outside work that he had spent little time in the office and so had not often seen Bob. Not an activity, from the operation of the railway branch to the pouring of a new batch of concrete on the dam itself, had escaped his inspection. He wanted to know all the foremen of the different gangs, to size them up, and to gain their personal loyalty. The long experience he had had in bossing men, taught him that being human and approachable did not impair discipline. Besides, in times of emergency, the men could be more counted on.,

“Do you mean there’s a chance for a dam?” asked Bob.,

Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible.