A LONG PULL AND A STRONG PULL
"What is the latest bulletin, Sally Lou?"
Ned Burford, hot, muddy, breathless, ran up the martin-box steps and
put his head inside the door.
Sally Lou sat at Ned's desk, her brown eyes intent, her cheeks a
little pale. A broad map lay spread before her. One hand steadied
small Thomas Tucker, who clung against her knee. The other hand
grasped the telephone receiver.
"What's the news, I say? Doesn't central answer? Wires down again, do
you s'pose?"
"Yes, central answered, and we reached the operator at Bates Creek an
hour ago. She says that the smaller streams below Carter's Ford have
not risen since daybreak, but that Bates Creek itself has risen three
inches in the last four hours."
"Whew! Three inches since morning! That sounds serious. What about
Jackson River?"
"Below Millville the Jackson has flooded its banks. Above Millville
the men are patrolling the levees and stacking in sand bags and brush
to reinforce the earthwork."
"That means, another crest of water will reach us to-morrow, early.
Well, we are ready to face it, I'm thankful to say." Ned settled back
in his big chair with a sigh of relief. "That is, unless it should
prove to be more than a three-foot rise. And there is practically no
danger that it will go beyond that stage. Our upper laterals are
excavated to final depth. Our levee is growing like magic, and
Hallowell is putting in splendid time on the lower laterals with the
big dredge. So we needn't worry. As soon as he finishes all the
lateral excavation, he will bring the dredges down to the main ditch
and start in to deepen the channel to its final depth. When that
second excavation is done, the channel will allow for a six-foot rise.
That channel depth, of course, will put us far out of any danger of
overflow. Then when the June floods come, the creeks can rise four
inches or forty inches if they like. We won't care."
Sally Lou looked sharply at his grimy, cheerful face. Her own did not
reflect his contentment. She put down the receiver and bent frowning
over the map. Her pencil wandered over the maze of fine red lines that
marked the excavation.
"Hallowell and I had nothing but bad luck on this contract until two
weeks ago, when Locke and Crosby came on their inspection tour," Ned
went on serenely. "But since their visit, we've had two solid weeks of
the best fortune any engineer could ask. It has been almost too good;
it's positively uncanny. Not a break in the machinery; only one
cave-in, and that a trifle; not a solitary quarrel among the
laborers--the shifts have moved like clock-work. It was Crosby's
doing, I suppose. His coming heartened us all up; all of us; even to
the dredges themselves. Though, on my word, Sally Lou, I'm almost
afraid of such unchanging good luck. It's no' canny."
Sally Lou turned to him suddenly. Her fingers tapped the desk with
nervous little clicks.
"Listen, Ned. Have you finished the upper laterals? Are they safe, no
matter how high the water may rise?"
"N-no. They are excavated, but the bank is nothing but heaped mud, you
know. Still, it would stand anything short of a flood."
"What about the lower laterals?"
"Same state of affairs there. Only that the two lowest ditches aren't
cut at all. Why?"
Sally Lou swung round in the desk chair and faced her husband. Her
eyes were very dark and anxious now.
"One more question, Ned. Could the work stand a three-foot rise?"
Ned stared.
"A three-foot rise? No, it could not. A three-foot rise would stop our
levee-building. A rise of four feet or more would put us out of the
game. We'd be washed out, smashed, ruined. But why do you ask such
questions? What makes you imagine----"
"I'm not imagining, Ned. I had a telephone call not five minutes ago
from the district inspector. Yes, I know you think he's always
shouting 'Wolf!' but this time he may be right. He says that he has
just come down from Chicago on the Central, and that the whole
mid-section of the State is fairly submerged by these endless rains.
Worse, the storm warnings are up for further rains. And he believes
that there will be a rise of three feet within two days. That is,
unless the rains stop."
Ned started to his feet.
"A rise of three feet! What is the man talking about? Don't you
believe one word, Sally Lou. That inspector is a regular hoot-owl.
He'd rather gloom and forebode than breathe. But maybe I'd better go
and tell Hallowell. Perhaps we can ginger up our excavation. Yet the
men and the machines are working up to their limit."
He shuffled into his wet oilskins once more.
"Where is Roderick, Ned?"
"He just came in off his watch. He's sound asleep in the hammock over
at his shack. Marian is over there too. She made Mr. Gates bring her
down at five this morning, and she has worked like a Turk every
minute. She spent the morning with Hallowell, up the laterals. She has
learned to run his launch better that he can, so he lets her manage
the boat for him. Then she takes all his notes, and does all his
telephoning, and passes along his orders to the commissary men, and
seconds him at every turn. Did you ever in all your life see anybody
change as she has done? When I remember the listless, useless, fretful
specimen that she was, those first weeks, then look at her now, I can
hardly believe my eyes."
Sally Lou listened a little impatiently.
"Yes, I know. Ned, please go and tell Roderick about the inspector's
message. He surely ought to know."
"All right, I'm going." Ned put down his frolicking small sons
reluctantly. Sally Lou laughed at his unwilling face. Yet she looked
after him anxiously as he sauntered away. Then her eyes turned to the
brimming canal. Tree branches and bits of lumber, washed down from the
upper land by the heavy storm, rolled and tumbled past. The sky was
thick and gray, the wind blew straight from the east.
"I hate to fidget and forebode. But I--I almost wish that I could make
Ned forebode a little. I'm afraid he ought to worry. And Roderick
ought to be a little anxious, too."
Suddenly the telephone bell rang. Sally Lou sprang to answer it.
"Yes, this is the contract camp. A Chicago call? Is it--Is it
head-quarters? Oh, is this _Mr. Breckenridge_ who is speaking? Shall I
call Mr. Burford?"
Strong and clear across two hundred miles of storm the voice reached
her, a hurrying command.
"Do not call your husband. No time. Operator says the wind raging here
may break connections at any minute. Tell him that we have positive
word that a tremendous rise is on the way. A cloudburst north of
Huntsville started this new crest two hours ago. Moreover, a storm
belt extends across the State, covering a district thirty miles wide
directly north of you. Tell our engineers to spare neither money nor
effort in making ready. Tell them, whatever else they must neglect, to
save----"
Click!
The receiver dropped from Sally Lou's shaking hand. Not another sound
came over the wire. She signalled frantically.
"Oh, if he had only told me! 'To save'--to save _what_? The machinery,
the levee, the laterals--Oh, central, please, please!"
Still no sound. At last central's voice, a thin little whisper.
"Chicago connections broken ... terrible storm ... sorry can't
reach----"
The thin little whisper dropped to silence.
"Mammy, take these babies. I'm going away." Sally Lou rolled Thomas
Tucker off her lap and dashed away to Roderick's shack. Trembling, she
poured out her ill news.
"This means business." Roderick, heavy-eyed and stupid, struggled into
hip boots and slicker. "Breckenridge isn't frightening us for nothing.
We daren't lose a minute. Come along, Burford."
"Come along--where?" Burford stood stunned before this bewildering
menace. "What more can we do? Aren't we rushing the whole plant to the
danger notch of speed as it is?"
"There is one thing we must do. Decide what part of the work we can
abandon. Then put our whole force, men, machinery, and all, to work at
the one point where it will do the most good."
"What can we abandon? It's all equally important."
"That is for you and me to decide. Come along."
"If Breck had only finished his sentence! 'To save--' Surely he meant
for us to save the dredges?"
Again the boys looked at each other.
"To save the dredges, maybe. But that doesn't sound like Breckenridge.
'To save the land-owners from loss,' that's more like what he'd say."
"If we could only reach him, for even half a minute----"
"That is precisely what we can't do." Roderick's big shoulders lifted.
His heavy face settled into lines of steel. "We'll bring all three of
the machines down stream, and put up our fight on the main ditch. If
we can cut through to the river, before the rise gets here, we will
save the crops for most of the land-owners, anyway. That will check
any danger of the water backing up into the narrow laterals and
overflowing them."
Burford frowned.
"Do you realize that by making that move we shall risk wrecking the
dredges? We will have to tow them down in this rough, high water
against this heavy wind. We may smash and sink all three. And they
cost the company a cool twenty thousand apiece, remember."
Roderick's jaw set.
"I realize just that. But it is up to us to decide. If we stop our
excavation and huddle the machines back into the laterals, we will
save our equipment from any risk. But the overflow will sweep the
whole lower district and ruin every acre of corn. On the other hand,
if we bring the dredges down here and start in full tilt to deepen the
channel, we may wreck our machines--and we may not. But, whatever
happens, we will be giving the land-owners a chance."
Burford held back, but only for a moment. Then he put out his hand to
Roderick, with a slow grin.
"I'm with you, Hallowell. I'll take your lead, straight through. It's
up to us, all right. We've got to shoulder the whole responsibility,
the whole big, hideous risk. But we'll put it through. That's all."
Together the boys hurried away. Left behind, the girls set to work
upon their share of the plan with eager spirit.
"You go with the boys and run the launch for them, Marian. I'll turn
the babies over to Mammy and stay right here to watch the telephone
and keep the time-books, although time-books could wait, in such a
pinch as this. We'll all pull together. And we will pull out safely,
never fear."
Sally Lou was right. They all pulled together. Machines, laborers,
foremen and all swung splendidly into line. As Ned said, the contract
had never shown such team-work. Everybody worked overtime. Everybody
faced the rain, the mud, the merciless hurry with high good-humor. The
thrill of danger, the daring risk, the loyal zeal and spirit for the
company, all spurred them on.
Side by side with Roderick, Marian worked through the day. She had
long since forgotten her frail health. She had forgotten her hatred of
the dun western country, her dislike of Roderick's work, her
weariness, her impatience. With heart and soul she stood by her
brother. Only the one wish ruled every act: her eager desire to help
Roderick, to stand by him through to the end of this tremendous
strain.
"We'll make it!" Roderick grinned at her, tired but content, as he
came into the shack for his late supper. "Sally Lou finally reached
Springfield on the telephone. The rain has stopped; so while the rise
will come, sure as fate, yet it may not be as high as Breckenridge
feared. At any rate, we have made splendid time with the big dredge
to-day. There is barely an eighth of a mile more cutting to be done.
Then we'll reach the river, and we'll be safe, no matter what freshets
may happen along. Burford says I'm to take six hours' sleep; then I'll
go on watch again. Twelve more hours of working time will see our
land-owners secure."
"Ned Burford is running up the shore this minute." Marian peered
through the tent flap. "Mulcahy is coming with him. They're in a
hurry. I wonder what has happened."
"They'd better not bring me any bad news till I have eaten my supper,"
said Roderick grimly.
Burford and Mulcahy galloped up the knoll. Headlong they plunged into
the tent. Burford was gray-white. Mulcahy stared at Roderick without
a word.
"What has happened? Burford, what ails you?"
Burford sat down and mopped his sweating forehead.
"The worst break-down yet, Hallowell. The dipper-bail on the big
dredge has snapped clear through."
The three stared at each other in helpless despair. Marian broke the
silence.
"The dipper-bail broken _again_? Why, it's not two weeks since you put
on the new handle!"
"True for you, miss. Not two weeks since it broke," said Mulcahy
wrathfully. "And its smash means a tie-up all along the line. Not one
stroke of ditch-work can be done till it's replaced. Who ever saw a
dipper break her bail twice on the same job? 'Tis lightnin' strikin'
twice in the same place. But 'tis no use cryin' over spilt milk. One
of you gentlemen will have to go to Saint Louis and have a new bail
welded at the steam forge. It will cost twenty-four hours' time, but
it is the only way. I'll keep the boys hot at work on the levee
construction meanwhile."
"Go to Saint Louis to-night! And neither of you two have had a night's
sleep this week!" Marian looked at Burford. His sodden clothes hung on
him. His round face was pinched and sunken with fatigue. She looked at
her brother. He had slumped back in his chair, limp and haggard. He
was so utterly tired that even the shock of ill news could not rouse
him to meet its challenge.
Then she looked out at the weltering muddy canal, the dark stormy sky.
"Never mind, Rod. We'll manage. You and Ned make out the exact figures
and dimensions for the new bail. Then Mulcahy can take me to Grafton
in the launch. There I'll catch the Saint Louis train. I'll go
straight to the steam forge and urge them to make your bail at once.
Then I'll bring it back on the train to-morrow night."
Promptly both boys burst into loud, astonished exclamations.
"Go to Saint Louis alone! I guess I see myself letting you do such a
preposterous thing. I'll start, at once."
"Stop that, Hallowell. You can't possibly go. You're so sleepy that
you haven't half sense. I'll go myself."
"Oh, you will. Then what about your watch to-night? Shall I take it
and my own, too?"
Burford stopped, quenched. He reddened with perplexity.
"We can't either of us be spared, that's the fact of it. But Miss
Marian must not think of going."
"Certainly not. I would never allow it."
"Yes, Rod, you will allow it." Marian spoke quietly, but with
determination. "The trip to Saint Louis is perfectly safe. Once in the
city, I'll take a carriage to the College Club and stay there every
minute, except the time that I must spend in giving orders for the
bail. No, you two need not look so forbidding. I'm going. And I'm
going this identical minute."
Later Marian laughed to remember how swiftly she had overruled every
protest. The boys were too tired and dazed to stand against her. It
was hardly an hour before she found herself flying down the river, in
charge of the faithful Mulcahy, on her way to catch the south-bound
train.
"The steam-forge people will do everything in their power to serve
you," Roderick had said, as he scrawled the last memoranda for her
use. "They know our firm, and they will rush the bail through and have
it loaded on the eight-o'clock train. I'll see to it that Mulcahy and
two men are at the Grafton dock to meet your train. But if anything
should go wrong, Sis, just you hunt up Commodore McCloskey and ask him
to help you; for the commodore is our guardian angel, I am convinced
of that."
The trip to the city was uneventful. She awoke early, after a good
rest, and hurried down to the forge works, a huge smoky foundry near
the river. The shop foreman met her with the utmost courtesy and
promised that the bail should be made and delivered aboard the
afternoon train. Feeling very capable and assured, Marian went back to
the club and had spent two pleasant hours in its reading-room when she
was called to the telephone.
"Miss Hallowell?" It was the voice of the forge works foreman.
"I--er--most unluckily we have mislaid the slip of paper which gave
the dimensions of the bail. We cannot go on until we have those
dimensions. Do you remember the figures?"
Poor Marian racked her brain. Not one measurement could she call to
mind.
"I'll ask my brother over the long-distance," she told the foreman.
But even as she spoke, she knew that there was no hope of reaching
Roderick. All the long-distance wires were down.
"And not one human being in all Saint Louis who can tell me the size
of that bail!" she groaned. "Oh, why didn't I measure it with my own
tape-measure--and then learn the figures by heart! Yet--I do wonder!
Would Commodore McCloskey know? He has been at the camp so often, and
he knows everything about our machinery. Let's see."
Presently Commodore McCloskey's friendly voice rang over the wire.
"Well, sure 'tis good luck that ye caught me at the dock, Miss Marian.
The _Lucy_ is just startin' up-river. Two minutes more and I'd have
gone aboard. So ye've lost the bail dimensions? Well, well, don't talk
so panicky-like. I'll be with ye in two minutes, an' we'll go to the
forge together. 'Tis no grand memory I have, but I can give them a
workin' idea."
"Oh, if you only will, commodore! But the _Lucy_! How can you be
spared?"
"Hoot, toot. The _Lucy_ can wait while I go shoppin' with you. Yes,
she has a time schedule, I know well. But, in high wather, whoever
expects a Mississippi packet to be on time? Or in low wather, either,
for that matter. I'll come to ye at once."
The commodore was as good as his word. Soon he and Marian reached the
forge works. There his shrewd observation and his wise old memory
suggested dimensions which proved later to be correct in every detail.
Moreover, he insisted upon staying with Marian till the bail should be
welded. Then, under his sharp eyes, it was loaded safely on the
Grafton train. As he escorted Marian elegantly into the passenger
coach, she ventured, between her exclamations of gratitude, to reprove
him very gently.
"You have been too good to me, commodore. But when I think of the poor
deserted _Lucy_! And the captain--what will he say?"
"He'll say a-plenty." The little commodore smiled serenely. "'Tis an
unchivalrous set the steam-boat owners are, nowadays. If he were half
as obligin' as the old captains used to be in the good days before the
war, he'd be happy to wait over twenty-four hours, if need be, to
serve a lady. But nowadays 'tis only time, time that counts. Sure,
he's grieved to the heart if we make a triflin' loss, like six hours,
say, in our schedule."
"And I'm not thanking you for myself alone," Marian went on, flushing.
"It is for Rod, too. You don't know how much it means to me to be able
to help him, even in this one small way."
Then the little commodore bent close to her. His shrewd little eyes
gleamed.
"Don't I know, sure? An' by that token I'm proud of this day, and
twice proud of the chance that's led me to share it. For, sure, I've
always said it--the time would certain come when you--_when you'd wake
up_. Mind my word, Miss Marian. Don't ye forget! Don't ye let go--and
go to sleep again."
The train jarred into motion. His knotted little hand gripped hers.
Then he was off and away.
"The dear little, queer little commodore!" Marian looked after him,
her eyes a bit shadowy. "Though what could he mean! 'Now you've waked
up.' I do wonder!"
Yet her wonder was half pretended. A hot flush burned in her cheek as
she sat thinking of his words.
"Well, I'm glad, too, that I've 'waked up,' although I wish that
something had happened to stir me earlier."
The train crept on through the flooded country. It was past eight
o'clock when they reached Grafton. Marian hurried from the coach and
watched anxiously while two baggagemen hoisted the heavy bail from the
car.
"Well, my share is done," she said to herself. "That precious bail is
here, safe and sound. But where is Mulcahy? And the launch? Rod said
that he would not fail to be here by train time."
The train pulled out. From the dim-lit station the ticket agent called
to her.
"You're expecting your launch, Miss Hallowell? There has been no boat
down to-day."
"But my brother promised to send the launch," stammered Marian.
"Surely they knew I was coming to-night!"
Then, in a flash of recollection, she heard Roderick's voice:
"And Mulcahy will meet you on the eight-o'clock train."
"Rod meant the train that leaves Saint Louis at eight in the morning!
Not this afternoon train. How could I make such a blunder! He does not
look for me to reach Grafton till to-morrow."
She looked at the huge, heavy bail.
"If that bail could reach camp to-night, they could ship it up and
start to cutting immediately. It would mean seven or eight hours more
of working time. But how to take it there!"
"There's a man yonder who owns a gasolene-launch," ventured the agent.
"It's a crazy, battered tub, but maybe----"
Marian looked out at the night: the black, sullen river; the ranks of
willows swaying in the heavy wind; the thunder that told of
approaching storm.
"Call that man over, please. Yes, I shall risk the trip up-river. That
bail shall reach camp to-night."