canal, which was to carry the stored water to the irrigation ditches
below. Vandeventer was already making plans for another big job, and
he had decided, in his own mind, that among the subordinates whom he
would take with him, the newcomer should have the first chance.
Vandeventer felt proud and satisfied when he surveyed the work that
had been accomplished in the six months of labor. To be sure the
delay in the completion of the spill-way disquieted him a little.
The dam had reached the spill-way level a fortnight before, and had
now passed it. Indeed, on the fifth of January, the dam builders
were within five feet of the top; that is, the crest of the dam was
one hundred and twenty feet above the level of the valley. They had
planned to run the spill-way around the eastern end of the dam. That
was the end near the spur of the mesa. It was fairly soft rock on
that side, except near where the end of the dam joined the hillside
it was covered over with earth. Through this rock the channel would
be opened to such a depth that when the water rose too high in the
reservoir it would flow through this channel around the dam, and
discharge into the valley a safe distance below the foot of the dam.
This was the spill-way, which had not yet been completely excavated
or blasted out on account of the delay in receiving the rock drills
and dynamite which had been ordered, as has been explained.
These supplies had finally arrived in December, and by putting as
many as possible to work on the spill-way Vandeventer had succeeded
in opening it for its entire width to an average depth of about seven
feet below the intended top of the dam; that is, it was now about two
feet deeper than the actual crest of the dam, but it still lacked
five feet of its designed depth.
The rainy season, an inspection of the records had shown, was not due
for a month and a half yet. That would give him ample time to
complete the dam and the spill-way. Sometimes it did not rain from
June until the next March. In that country that was why irrigation
was needed. This year, however, there had been some very unusual
rains during the fall and the water back of the dam was now
ninety-eight feet deep, which made it twenty-two feet below the level
to which the dam had risen and twenty feet below the spill-way. This
was much more water than anyone had dreamed would be in the reservoir
at that time, and was perhaps more than should have been allowed.
Still there was a safety margin of twenty-two feet, which Vandeventer
was sure would be ample. The financial promoters of the project were
very anxious to have the reservoir full when the irrigating season
opened, and the engineer's judgment had been influenced by their
eagerness to get it working.
The broad sheet of water ran back into the valley for many miles. In
fact the dam had transformed the country into a beautiful lake.
Sometimes it rained in the mountains when it did not rain down in the
valley, and there was a constant, if very small, rise in the level.
Vandeventer personally carefully gauged the water every day.
Naturally he had noted that it rose gradually, but as the dam rose
proportionately more rapidly, he was not uneasy. Yet, as a good
engineer, he was watchful and largely because of the unfinished
spill-way he urged the men to the very limit.
Those who could understand the situation seconded him heartily and
such was the contagion and the enthusiasm of all hands as the job
approached completion that, although the men grumbled at being so
driven, they worked with a will. The weatherwise from the town, who
sometimes rode up to inspect the work, assured Vandeventer that it
could not possibly rain before March, and the mere fact that so much
water had fallen, rendered it more improbable that any more would
come down. Yet nature has a way of doing unexpected things and
everybody knows that all calculations which depend upon nature are
empiric anyway. To lay down an invariable natural law for the
weather is impossible because of the infinite variety of permutations
and combinations of which nature is capable, especially when it comes
to weather manifestations in what are known as the "arid regions."
Whatever be the case, at three on the afternoon of January sixth it
suddenly began to rain hard without warning and with no premonition
on the part of anybody. It was not one of those terrible downpours
referred to, which are popularly and graphically, if incorrectly,
known as cloudbursts, but it was an excessively hard, steady rain.
The heavens over the range were black with clouds and so far as
anyone at the dam could see, it was raining from the crest of the
mountains down. There were some anxious discussions in the
dining-room of the resident engineer and his American assistants.
At four o'clock it was decided to open the under-sluice gate about
halfway, but when this was done the volume of water it was capable of
discharging was too small to help very much, and on opening it to its
fullest extent the velocity of the water rushing through was so great
that the river bed was rapidly scoured out. For fear of undermining
the toe of the dam it was necessary partially to close the sluice
once more.
The water was rising, first at the rate of three or four inches in an
hour, then half a foot, and finally nearly a foot. By six o'clock
that night it had risen two feet. It was still raining hard at that
hour, although not quite so furiously as it had been. There were no
signs of a break when night drew on, but it was practically
inconceivable that it could rain all night, and rough calculations
convinced them that even if it did rain until morning at the present
rate there would still be a margin of safety of perhaps fourteen or
fifteen feet at dawn, that is to say the top of the dam would still
be fourteen or fifteen feet above the water level.
Of course if the spill-way had been completed it would not have been
of so much importance if it had risen further, because before it grew
dangerous it would have been relieved by the outflow through that
channel. Well, although the situation required watchfulness and was
somewhat alarming it was not desperate. The men were advised to put
in all the time in their bunks so as to be good and ready for the
hard battle which might come in the morning, and as they were all
tired out with their day's work the little group soon broke up and
each man went to his quarters.
Vandeventer, however, could not sleep. The rain kept up steadily all
night. It thundered on the galvanized roofs of the houses with a
roar of sound which he would not have minded if he had been used to
it and gradually seemed to increase in intensity. The resident
engineer finally got up and dressed himself, and protected by high
rubber boots and a cowboy slicker and a sou'wester, he left his
quarters and went out to inspect the dam. He carried a lantern of
course, for it was pitch dark and, if possible, the rain dropping
from the black sky made it more difficult to see.
He was surprised when he got to the dam to see on the other side
another lantern. Someone else was abroad. For what purpose? There
was no reason for Vandeventer to suspect anyone of evil intent. But
by this time the situation had rather got on his nerves, what with
the rain, his sleepless night, the unopened spill-way, and the
possibilities of the situation. Closing the slide of his own lantern
to prevent observation and being on familiar ground he went straight
toward the other side. The noise of the rain subdued any sound that
he made and he was able to come quite close to the other light
without being noticed.
The lantern was standing on the roadway on top of the dam. A man was
kneeling beyond it, his figure seen dimly in the faint light of the
lantern. He was staring intently down the front of the dam at the
water. The lantern was near the edge and it faintly illuminated the
black rain-lashed surface below. Vandeventer realized with a shock
of horror how much more rapid the rise had been. A quick estimate
convinced him that the level of the water was now within eight or
nine feet of the dam--and it was still raining!
The face of the kneeling man was hidden by a sou'wester and he had on
a heavy black rubber raincoat. Vandeventer reached over and touched
him on the shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
The kneeling man sprang up with an exclamation. It was Meade. The
relief in Vandeventer's mind was great at the recognition.
"I just came out to look at the water. I couldn't sleep with all
that pounding on the iron roof of the quarters, so I dressed and came
out."
Vandeventer opened the slide of his own lantern and threw the light
on the reservoir.
"It's risen eight or ten feet since we saw it."
"At least that," said Meade.
"I judge it's about nine feet down to the water."
"Not an inch more than that."
"And with this rain--
"It's not coming down so hard as it was when I first came out here,"
said Meade. "I think you can see it slackening yourself."
"Yes," said the resident engineer, listening a moment, "I believe it
is. If it stops now," he continued thoughtfully, "we ought to be
safe."
"Yes, I think so," answered Meade.
In the night alone, together in that crisis in their fortunes, the
two men were interchanging thoughts and ideas on terms of perfect
equality. It did not occur to Vandeventer to question why, and that
they were doing so aroused no surprise in the mind of Meade.
"Of course," continued Meade, "even if it does stop raining we'll
continue to get a lot of runoff from the watershed for some time."
"Yes," said the resident engineer, "that of course, but if the rain
stops everywhere we can scarcely have a rise of more than five or six
feet and that would still be a little below the spill-way."
"It's stopping here now," pointed out Meade and, indeed, the force of
the downpour was greatly diminished.
The two stood watching the dam and the black lake beyond it in
silence for a few moments until the rain practically ceased. The air
was misty and heavy with moisture, but the rain was certainly over
for the time at any rate.
"Thank God," said the resident engineer in great relief. "Now if it
has stopped everywhere we'll be all right."
"Yes," said Meade, "and I'm inclined to think it has stopped
everywhere. Whoever thought it would rain in January here? There
hasn't a drop, to speak of, fallen in January for twenty years, or
since there have been any records. Why in heaven's name it had to
come now I don't see."
"Does the water seem to you to be rising?"
"Yes," answered Meade, after a careful survey, "but much more slowly."
"Look here, Roberts," said Vandeventer suddenly, "you know you're a
first-class engineer."
Meade shook his head.
"You can't fool me," said the older man. "I've watched you. You
know more about the game than anybody here except myself. You don't
choose to confide in me, although I like you, and I am in a position
to help you."
"I appreciate what you say, Mr. Vandeventer," returned the other,
"there is no one to whom I should rather tell the whole story than to
you, but I can't, not yet."
"Well, keep your own counsel, but if you ever want a friend count on
me; meanwhile as a man of experience and ability what would you do?"
"Get out the men and build up a temporary dam on the top of the
roadway here, to turn the flow over to the east bank and make the
spill-way do more work."
"But the rain has stopped."
"And in all probability it will stay stopped, still you never can
tell. That it rained at all is contrary to the universal expectation
and observation, but once it has done so it may do so again, however
unlikely. A few more hours of rain like that we've had and the whole
thing would go. If the water were as high as the top there'd only be
two feet of head in the uncompleted spill-way and that wouldn't be
enough to discharge it at the rate it's been coming in."
"Of course," said Vandeventer thoughtfully. "And if the dam goes,"
he added, "there are ten miles of back water up there and millions of
cubic yards impounded, which would sweep down the valley. There
wouldn't be a thing left of the camp, the town, the new railroad
bridge, or anything else."
"Coming on top of the International, the loss of this big and
expensive viaduct would about finish the Martlet Company," said Meade
thoughtlessly.
Vandeventer looked at him sharply. An idea suddenly came to him.
Meade had turned away his head as he realized his slip, so he did not
observe the light in Vandeventer's eyes. However, the resident
engineer was a good sort.
"You are right," he said quickly. "I hate to call out the men, but
we've got a little chance now the rain has stopped, and we can work
to advantage in spite of all this awful mud"--he lifted his foot up
and disclosed it caked and clogged with masses. "I'll take charge in
the center here and Stafford on the left, and I'm going to give you
charge of the east end of the dam over by the spill-way. If only
those drills had been here six weeks ago."
"We might set the men to work on that rock now," said Meade.
"It would be useless. There's too much of it. No, if we're going to
save the dam we've got to build it up and try to keep ahead of the
waters if they rise any more. The higher we can build it, the
greater will be the head on the spill-way, and the more will be
discharged. I'll turn the men out at once."
"But what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to palisade the top of the dam. There's plenty of timber
already cut down and we will cut a lot of young pines and build a
palisaded wall of timber across the top three or four feet back from
the edge. Well banked on the down-stream side it may hold."
"It might be worth while to line that palisade with galvanized iron
sheets from the houses," said Meade.
"A good idea," said Vandeventer, "and we'll pile what underbrush and
small stuff we have in front of the palisade and heap what rocks we
can find on top of that, and we'll bank it up on the other side with
earth. It's a poor dependence, but it will hold for a while anyway
and every moment of time may be precious."
"How about sand bags, sir?"
"We've got a few hundred cement bags, but not enough. I wish we had
a few thousand; however, we will fill what we have and if the water
rises and begins to trickle over the top and through the palisade
we'll jam those down at the danger points. Can you suggest anything
more?"
"Nothing."
"Good. We'll turn out the men. They've had six hours' sleep anyway."
XXIV
THE BATTLE
It was now three o'clock in the morning. In about half an hour the
men, naturally grumbling and protesting at being deprived of any of
their sleep, were out and at work. Lanterns were lighted everywhere.
The rain had fortunately not resumed, and the air was soon filled
with noise and confusion. Men with axes were busy on the hillside
cutting the young pines. Horses, which would have protested as much
as the men had they been able, were hitched to the dump wagons, the
steam shovel began tearing away the hillside. Some of the men were
detailed to knock down some of the galvanized iron houses and the
battering of the hammers on the metal added to the din.
Under Vandeventer's personal direction a row of stakes was driven
into the top of the dam about three feet from the front of it. He
had intended to put the stakes a foot apart, but he decided that in
the emergency he would not have time for so close a palisade, and
therefore they were placed about two feet from one another. There
were only about one hundred and fifty men working on the dam, and
there was a limit even to what the hardiest and most desperate worker
could do.
Big sheets of overlapping galvanized iron were nailed roughly to the
fronts of the firmly bedded stakes and the small branches and
brushwood were thrown down before it. There were a great many small
bowlders and big stones which had accumulated during the excavations
and these were carried out on the dam in the wagons and thrown down
on the brushwood so as to bind the improvised mat of branches into a
sort of revetment; spare timbers, broken wagon beds, old wheels,
joists of dismembered houses were driven into the earth to serve as
braces behind the palisade; but the main support of this wooden wall,
with its skirmish line of frail brushwood, was a bank of earth which
was piled up behind it, on which every man, even the chiefs
themselves, who could be spared from other tasks labored with
breathless energy. The water was still rising, although the rain had
stopped; the natural drainage would cause that, but the rise was
slower.
At dawn Vandeventer personally carefully measured the depth of the
water and gauged it again. It was a scant six and a half feet below
the top of the dam. At daylight the palisade at which they had
worked so hard in the darkness showed its flimsy front to all. It
was a desperate expedient. That, the least intelligent workman could
see. If the water rose above the top of the dam it was gravely
questionable whether the palisade would hold it at all, yet there was
no other way of increasing the depth of the spill-way enough to
discharge the flood volume.
Working as hard as they could, they had barely succeeded in raising
the earth bank back of it a foot high. They kept at it
unremittingly, although it did not seem to be of much use.
Vandeventer, Stafford and Meade gathered together and scanned the
sky, seeking to discern the signs of the time, the purpose of the
heavens. It was clearer in the east. The clouds to the
northwestward were in violent action apparently. Lightning flashed
through them and over the great range itself; low muttered peals of
thunder came down from the peaks lost to sight in the blackness
overhead. They observed all this carefully and Vandeventer turned
away, shaking his head.
"I don't know," he began--the three of them were over on the east
side the better to see up the valley--"it looks pretty bad, doesn't
it?"
"It does," answered Meade, while Stafford nodded his head.
"And, by the way, Stafford, have you notified the town and the bridge
people of the danger and bid them prepare for it?"
"I tried to telephone them awhile ago, but the connection has been
broken; the storm has played havoc with the line probably," answered
the assistant engineer.
"Well, what did you do, then?" asked Vandeventer a little
imperatively.
"I sent a man down on horseback in a hurry to warn them that if it
rains again the dam might go, and if it did it would go with a rush;
that the water was now only six feet below the level and that they
had better get up on the hills. Of course, last night's rain must
have made the road almost impassable, but he ought to get there by
nine o'clock. I told him to tell the Martlet people to take whatever
steps they could devise to hold their viaduct and their machinery,"
answered Stafford, as he turned and walked toward his own part of the
dam.
"Good," exclaimed Vandeventer. "There's nothing left for us to do
but keep on."
The resident engineer looked white and haggard. Although it was cold
and raw in the wet air he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"The men are doing splendidly, sir," said Meade.
"Yes," said Vandeventer, "many of them have their wives and children
back in the town. Some of the Italians have bought land on the
prairie and are going to settle here. They're fighting for
everything they've got on earth. What do you think of the chances of
this palisade of ours?"
Meade shook his head.
"You want a frank opinion?"
"Of course. What else?"
"It wouldn't hold an hour."
"That's right, and yet it's all we can do."
"That hour might save the dam, though."
"Doubtful," said Vandeventer gloomily.
"It's all we can do, as you say, sir, but if the water rises more
than seven or eight feet----"
"Say it," said Vandeventer.
"The dam would go like a house of cards."
"Exactly. And look at that cloudbank over there in the northwest.
It's spreading."
"What wind there is," said Meade, moistening his finger and holding
it up to feel the direction, "is blowing the opposite way down here,
but you can't tell what is happening up there. Well, all we can do
is to fight on."
And fight they did. It was almost at first sight like the hand of
man against the hand of God. There was no more room for science, no
more room for engineering expedient. It was chop and hew, break and
pound, dig and drive, carry and pile. Throwing off his coat,
Vandeventer seized a spade and began to work like any other laborer,
and the rest of the higher men followed his example.
At six o'clock the blackness hanging in the northwest began to turn
their way. It was coming down the mountain. It was headed for the
valley. Vandeventer saw it, every teamster, every common laborer saw
it. It was coming. Unless heaven itself interfered there would be
more rain. They had worked desperately before, but now they applied
themselves to their tasks with a kind of wild fury. A sort of
insanity took possession of them. They would not be beaten. They
cried, at first shrilly and then hoarsely and raucously, encouraging
words and phrases from one to another; terse, vivid, profane,
desperate. They stood there and they heaved and dug and piled and
hammered and hurled and drove fiercely. It was a battle madness that
came into them. They saw red like the berserker of old. Yes, it was
not unlike a battle in other ways, for with the rush of the northwest
storm came roaring mighty thunder and vivid and terrifying lightning.
It was as if great darts of light literally were hurled by some
gigantic hand behind the black screen of sweeping cloud down upon the
granite mountains. They saw splinters of fire where the thunderbolts
struck. The pealing of thunder was appalling.
Their frail palisade backing was not half completed. It must be
raining somewhere, for the water was still slowly rising. It was
five and a half feet now from the crest. It was hopeless if another
rain fell, and the rain was coming. There was an added chill in the
still air of the valley as the storm drove down upon them. A few of
the fainter hearts flung down pick and shovel and axe and stood
craven. Oaths, curses, blows even, from those of the braver sort
shamed them into work again. These brave hearts and true might be
swept away with the dam if it gave way, but they would not give up,
and no man working with them should flee his task or shirk his duty.
By the Living God, whose sport and playthings they seemed to be, they
swore it; and so weak and strong, bold and timid labored
on--desperate, resolved, god-like in their courage and persistence.
The clouds were moving swiftly now. To the east it had been clear,
but now it was also black, and then with a roar greater even than a
thousand thunderclaps the wind tore down the mountains, through the
narrow cañons, into the valleys, shrieking in the pines, and fell
upon them and hurled them down and brushed them back. And after the
wind, the rain. A drop or two struck Vandeventer's cheek; another,
another, and then the flood. He lifted his head and stared and shook
his fist at the sky and turned to the human termites he commanded.
"Carry on, carry on, boys," he cried, shrieking to be heard above the
thunder peals, "we'll beat it yet."
A cheer rose about him and was caught up and ran along the top of the
great dam. The half-maniacal yell was such a cry as men might give
vent to in the heat of battle, the excitement of wild charge, and
then they fell to it again. The more ignorant, unaware of the
feebleness of the palisade, the more knowing indifferent to it,
seeing only the job, alike realized only their duty to fight on, to
answer the appeal to their manhood, to refuse to admit defeat even
when life trembled in the balance.
Yes, to use the ancient simile again, the fountains of the great deep
were broken open. What had befallen them before was nothing to this.
The hard rain of the night seemed trifling compared to this avalanche
of water. This was a cloudburst indeed. And to make it worse, to
make their task harder, to render their efforts useless, the high
wind roaring down the valley piled the water up and drove it in
thunderous assaulting waves against the great mound of earth on which
the men struggled and labored frantically. Vandeventer, shovel in
hand--he did not dare to throw it down, lest his action be
misconstrued,--went from gang to gang, from man to man, talking to
them, appealing to them, pointing out weaknesses here and there,
inspiring them, holding them up as a man might hold a stricken line
against the onslaught of a victorious and overwhelming force. And
against wind and rain in that thick darkness, blinded by the flashing
lightning, stunned by the pealing thunder, with zeal superhuman they
toiled on and on and on.