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“You should have!” This was all the rebuke the young engineer was to get. Perhaps it was because Whitney did things that way, that all his men adored him. He did not think that because a man made a mistake that he should be shamed before his fellow workers. He turned to Bob.,

When the hundred years had passed away, the son of the King at that time upon the throne, and who was of a different family to that of the sleeping Princess, having been hunting in the neighbourhood, inquired what towers they were that he saw above the trees of a very thick wood. Each person answered him according to the story he had heard. Some said it was an old castle, haunted by ghosts; others, that all the witches of the country held their midnight revels there. The more general opinion, however, was that it was the abode of an ogre, and that he carried thither all the children he could catch, in order to eat them at his leisure, and without being pursued, he alone having the power of making his way through the wood.,

Jerry, however, was not so pessimistic. “Oh, I’m not beaten yet. I think I’ve got a scheme that’ll work, although it means we won’t be dry again until we get out of the canyon.”,

Bob shook the sleep out of his eyes and hustled into his clothes. When he came downstairs with Jerry he found that Mr. Whitney had already finished his breakfast and had gone out. So he and Jerry had theirs. During the meal Bob tried again to draw his new comrade out, but the same unwillingness to talk possessed Jerry. Bob rather wondered what was the matter. He had not been used to meeting with such reserve. He remembered also that during the conversation on the porch the night before Jerry had spoken hardly a word but sat in his chair motionless. At last, giving it up as a bad job, he finished his meal in silence. Steve Whitney met them in the lobby.

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Again silence was necessary, for if Miguel was coming it would not be long before his arrival. Come he did and only a few yards from them. Bob held his breath until Miguel passed them and reached the river level. There he put down his package, which Bob noticed he handled with the utmost care. But this did not impress the boy as much as did the next move of the man under observation. Going up to a rock which showed itself above the ground, he knelt and began scooping away the sand from one side of it. After a few moments of this work he evidently found what he had been digging for, because he picked some objects out of the hole he had made and laid them at his side.,

If there had only been a chance to thank him for the fishing rod! Johnny Blossom had some thought of asking God to thank Uncle Isaac for him, but he put it hastily aside. No, he was sure that would not do.,

“It isn’t pills, it isn’t pills!” exclaimed Johnny Blossom, hopping about on one foot with joy, because Aunt Grenertsen would be so pleased when she saw what it was.,

Inside, Bob had been listening with wide open ears and his mind pictured the scene Jerry had left to find Mr. Whitney and filled out the holes the winded boy had left in his description. He knew the auxiliary spillway and the harm it could do if it should fail to carry its burden. It was a temporary affair of wood to be used only until a system of drains could be built to take care of the excess water that collected below the coffer dam. His mind’s eye saw Rutherford and Jerry at the dangerous place: Rutherford, young and inexperienced, doing what he could to avert disaster, but rattled, probably badly so. He wanted Mr. Whitney or somebody with practical knowledge and he had sent Jerry off to bring help. All Bob could do was to hope that the wall would hold.