tempted to adopt an "I told you so" attitude. There had been no excuse
for running aground. Sally Barker had warned them about the shoal, and
Jack deliberately had disregarded her advice.
"I guess it was my fault," Jack mumbled, the words coming with
difficulty. "The water was deep enough here yesterday. I was so sure--"
His eyes, like those of an abused puppy, appealed to her for sympathy.
Suddenly, Penny's resentment vanished and she felt sorry for Jack.
"Never mind," she said kindly. "We'll get off somehow. If necessary, I
can swim to Shadow Island for help."
"It won't be necessary." Jack pulled off shoes and socks, and rolled up
his slacks above his knees. "I got us into this, and I'll get us out.
Just sit tight."
Despite Penny's protests, he swung over the side, into the shallow water.
Applying his shoulder to the _Spindrift's_ bow, he pushed with all his
strength. Penny dug into the mud with the paddle.
The boat groaned and clung fast to the shoal. Then inch by inch it began
to move backwards.
"We're off!" Penny cried jubilantly.
Jack pushed until the _Spindrift_ was safely away from the shoal. Wet and
plastered with mud, he scrambled aboard.
"No use putting up the sail," he said gloomily. "The centerboard is
damaged. When we went aground I should have pulled it up, but things
happened so fast I didn't think of it."
"Can't it be repaired?"
"Oh, sure, but it means hauling the boat out of water for several days.
And the race will be held in a week. I'll have no chance to practice."
"It's a bad break," Penny said sympathetically. "Perhaps the centerboard
isn't much damaged."
They paddled to the Shadow Island dock. There with the help of the
Gandiss chauffeur, Jack tied ropes under the bottom of the _Spindrift_
and by means of a hoist and crane, lifted the boat a few feet out of
water. A piece had been broken from the centerboard and the bottom was so
badly scratched that it would have to be repainted before the race.
"I call this wretched luck!" Jack fumed. "It will take days to repair and
repaint the _Spindrift_."
The accident had a subduing effect upon the boy, and the remainder of the
day he tried to make amends to Penny. They swam together and played three
sets of tennis. In each contest Penny won with ease.
"You're about the first girl who ever beat me at anything," Jack said
ruefully. "Guess that rap on the head did me no good."
"How about the sailboat race?" Penny tripped him. "Didn't Sally win the
lantern trophy?"
Grudgingly, Jack admitted that she had. "But the race was a fluke," he
added. "The wind was tricky and favored Sally's old tub. It won't happen
twice."
Annoyed by the youth's alibis, Penny turned and walked away.
At dinner that night, Mr. Gandiss suggested that Mr. Parker and his
daughter might like to visit his steel plant and airplane factory on the
mainland. Despite vigorous protests, Jack was taken along.
The buildings owned by Mr. Gandiss were situated across the river in the
town of Osage. Occupying many city blocks, the property included an
airplane testing ground, and was protected by a high guard fence
electrically charged.
"Every employee must pass inspection at the gate," Mr. Gandiss explained
as the taxi cab approached the entrance to the main factory. "We operate
on a twenty-four hour basis now, and even so can't keep abreast of
orders."
Lights blazed in the low rows of windows, and from the chimneys of the
steel plant, fire leaped high into the dark sky.
"Will we be able to see steel poured from the furnaces?" Penny asked
eagerly. "I've always wanted to watch it done."
"You may tour every building if your feet hold out," Mr. Gandiss
chuckled.
A squat, red-faced man with pouchy eyes, halted the taxi cab at the gate.
"No visitors allowed here at night," he began in a surly voice, and then
recognized the plant owner. His manner changed instantly. "Oh, it's you,
Mr. Gandiss! How are you this evening?"
"Very well, thank you, Clayton. I have some friends with me who wish to
see the plant."
"Drive right in," the gateman invited, swinging open the barrier.
The taxi rolled through the gate, and drew up in front of one of the
buildings. Inside, fluorescent lights gave the effect of daylight.
Overhead carriers were lifting newly blanked and formed airplane parts
from power presses, carrying them to sub-assembly lines.
"Raw materials, brought up-river by boats, enter one end of the
building," Mr. Gandiss explained proudly. "Miraculously they come out the
other end as finished airplanes ready for testing."
The plant had four main assembly lines along which the wings, fuselages,
engines, tail surfaces, pilot and bombardier floors were assembled, he
explained. In one room the party paused to watch row upon row of
fuselages being put together ready for transfer to the main assembly
line.
"You have a wonderful factory here, Mr. Gandiss," Penny's father praised,
much impressed. "It must be a job to keep tab on the personnel."
"Oh, everything has been reduced to a system. One department meshes into
another. But if production falls down in any one department, results
could be serious." Mr. Gandiss frowned and added: "Now take those petty
brass thefts. In a way it is a trivial matter, but the practice is
spreading."
"The disappearance of parts hasn't curtailed production to any extent?"
"Not as yet, but it has caused our stockrooms serious annoyance. Then the
loss on a yearly basis will become considerable. The guilty persons must
be caught, and the organizers broken up before it gets more serious."
Mr. Gandiss escorted the visitors into another large room where hundreds
of girls in slacks, their hair bound by nets, worked over machines with
concentrated attention.
"Our beginners start here," he explained. "Strangely, we lose more brass
and copper from this shift than anywhere else in the plant."
"How do you explain it?" Penny asked.
"The girls are new and we are convinced they are being misled by someone.
The entire situation has us baffled."
Few of the workers paid the visitors heed as they wandered along the rows
of machines. However, a slovenly, sharp-eyed man with a push broom,
watched them with deep interest. Known as Joe the Sweeper, though his
real name was Joseph Jakaboloski, he once had been a skilled mechanic.
Two of his fingers were missing, and he no longer did any useful work.
"See that man?" Mr. Gandiss said in an undertone. "Shortly after he
started working for us, two years ago, he had an accident that was
entirely his own fault. We immediately put him in an easy job and still
pay him his former salary. But he doesn't even sweep a room properly."
"Why not let him go?" Mr. Parker questioned.
Mr. Gandiss smiled and shook his head. "He was injured while working for
us, so we are responsible for looking after him. We would like to pension
him off. You see, he constantly stirs up trouble among the new employes."
Joe the Sweeper had been watching Mr. Gandiss with concentrated
attention, though too far away to hear what was said. With amusing haste,
he swept his way closer to the group. Finally he smirked and sidled up to
the factory owner.
"Can I see you alone fer a minute, Mr. Gandiss?" he asked, his voice a
whine.
"I am very busy," the factory owner discouraged him. "What is it you
want?"
Joe edged even closer, dropping his voice so that it was barely audible
above the clatter of the machinery.
"You been losin' copper and brass from your factory, ain't you?"
The direct approach startled Mr. Gandiss. He gazed at Joe keenly, then
nodded.
"Well, maybe I kin help you. What's it worth?"
Mr. Gandiss was careful not to show his dislike for the man. "If you are
able to provide information which will lead to the apprehension of the
thieves, I'll see that you get a substantial salary increase."
Joe blinked and grinned. "Last night I seen a girl in this room stick a
piece of brass into her shirt front. She carried it off with her."
"Who was the girl?"
"Dunno her name. A blond piece in blue slacks."
"I'm afraid your information is of no value," Mr. Gandiss said
impatiently. "Unless you know who she is--"
"She's a new gal that's only been workin' here a few nights," Joe
supplied hastily. "You'll give me that salary raise if I turn her in?"
"If your information proves correct."
Joe's eyes brightened with a crafty light and he jerked his head toward
the left.
"You can't see her from here," he muttered, "but you can get her name
easy enough. She's the gal that operates machine No. 567."
CHAPTER
7
_NIGHT SHIFT WORKER_
"I detest a stool pigeon," said Mr. Gandiss after Joe the Sweeper had
slouched away. "However, his information may be valuable. I can't afford
not to investigate it."
Not wishing to attract comment from the other employes, the factory owner
made no attempt to see the girl under suspicion. Instead, he escorted the
party to his private office. Ringing a buzzer, he asked one of the
foremen to bring the operator of Machine 567 to him.
Presently she came in, a thin, wiry girl in ill-fitting blue slacks and
sweater. Her hair was bound beneath a dark net and she wore goggles. As
she faced Mr. Gandiss, she removed the latter. Everyone stared.
For the girl was Sally Barker.
"You sent for me, Mr. Gandiss?" Subdued and embarrassed, her eyes roved
from one person to another.
"Why, Sally," said the factory owner in astonishment. "I had no idea you
were working here on the night shift. When were you employed?"
"A week ago."
Perplexed, Mr. Gandiss stared at the girl's factory badge. There could be
no mistake. Plainly it bore the number 567.
"You like the work?" he asked after an awkward silence.
"Not very well," she confessed truthfully. "However, I can use the pay I
receive."
"During the daytime I believe you help your father aboard the _River
Queen_," Mr. Gandiss resumed, trying to be friendly. "Rather a strenuous
program. When do you sleep?"
"Oh, I get enough rest." Sally spoke indifferently, though her eyes were
red and she looked tired. "Pop didn't want me to take the job, but I have
a special use for the money."
"Pretty clothes, I suppose--or perhaps a new sailboat?"
"A college education."
Mr. Gandiss nodded approvingly, and then, recalling the serious charge
against the girl, became formal again. "You wonder why I sent for you?"
"I know my work hasn't been very good. I've tried, but I keep ruining
materials."
This gave Mr. Gandiss the opening he sought. "What do you do with the
discarded pieces?" he inquired.
"Why, I just throw them aside." The question plainly puzzled Sally.
"You may have heard that we are having a little trouble here at the
factory."
"What sort of trouble, Mr. Gandiss?"
"Small but valuable pieces of copper and brass seem to disappear with
alarming regularity. Most of the thefts have been attributed to workers
on the night shift."
Sally's blue eyes opened wide, but she returned Mr. Gandiss' steady gaze.
Her chin raised. "I've heard talk about it among the girls," she replied
briefly. "That's all I know."
"You have no idea who may be taking the materials?"
"Not the slightest, sir."
An awkward silence fell. Mr. Gandiss started to speak again, then changed
his mind.
"Was there anything else?" Sally asked stiffly.
"Nothing."
"Then may I return to my work?"
"Why, yes." It was Mr. Gandiss' turn to appear awkward and ill at ease.
"We hope you will enjoy your work here, Sally," he said, feeling that a
friendly word was necessary to end the interview. "If you should learn
anything that will lead to the arrest of the thieves, I hope you will
give us the information."
Sally inclined her head slightly in assent. With dignity, she walked from
the office.
No one spoke for several minutes after the girl had gone. Then Mr.
Gandiss drew a deep sigh.
"I had no idea Sally was working here," he said, frowning.
"Father, you shouldn't have accused her of stealing!" Jack burst out.
"My dear boy, I accused her of nothing."
"Well, Sally is proud. She took it that way. You don't really believe she
would stoop to such a thing?"
"I confess I don't know what to think. Joe the Sweeper may not be a
reliable informer."
"If he saw her hide brass in her clothing as he claims, why didn't he
report her last night?" Jack demanded. "Sally is no thief. I've known her
since she was a kid. I get mighty sore at her sometimes, she's so cocky.
But she never did a dishonest act in her life."
"I'm glad to hear you defend her, Jack," Mr. Gandiss said quietly.
"Certainly no action will be taken without far more conclusive evidence.
Now suppose you and Penny amuse yourselves for a few minutes. Mr. Parker
and I have a few business matters to discuss."
Thus dismissed, Penny and Jack wandered outside.
"Want to see the steel plant?" Jack asked indifferently. "They should be
pouring about this time."
At Penny's eager assent, he led her to another building, up a steep
flight of iron stairs to an inner balcony which overlooked the huge blast
furnaces. In the noisy, hot room, conversation was practically
impossible.
Gazing below, Penny saw a crew of men in front of one of the furnaces,
cleaning the tapping hole with a long rod.
In a moment a signal was given and the molten steel was poured into a
ladle capable of holding a hundred and fifty tons. An overhead crane,
operated by a skilled worker, lifted the huge container to the pouring
platform.
Next the molten mass was turned into rectangular ingots or molds.
"The steel will cool for about an hour before it is ready to be taken
from the mold," Jack shouted in Penny's ear.
Moving on, they saw other ingots already cooled, and in a stripping shed
observed cranes with huge tongs engage the lugs of the molds and lift
them from the ingots.
"Each one of those ingots weighs twenty thousand pounds," Jack said,
surprising Penny with his knowledge. "After stripping, they are placed in
gas-heated pit furnaces and brought to rolling temperature."
To see fiery ribbons of steel rolled from cherry red ingots was to Penny
the most fascinating process of all. She could have watched for hours,
but Jack, bored by the familiar sight, kept urging her on.
Leaving the steel plant, they returned to the main factory buildings, and
without thinking, sauntered toward the room where Sally worked. A
portable lunch cart had just supplied hot soup and sandwiches to the
employes. Sally sat eating at her machine. Seeing Jack, she quickly
looked away.
"Now she's really sore at me, and I can't blame her," Jack commented.
"Who is Joe the Sweeper anyhow? Riff-raff, I'll warrant."
Though somewhat amused by the boy's staunch defense of Sally, Penny was
inclined to agree in his second observation. Although she knew nothing of
the man who had turned informer, she had not liked the sly look of his
face.
Before the pair could approach Sally, the brief lunch period came to an
end. A whistle blew, sending the girls back to their machines.
"You'll have to step on it," a foreman told Sally. "You're behind in your
quota."
Her reply was inaudible, but as she adjusted her machine and started it
up, she began to work with nervous haste.
"This is no place for Sally," Jack said, obviously bothered. "She never
was cut out for factory work. And that foreman, Rogers, who is over her!
He's a regular slave driver!"
"I thought you didn't like Sally," Penny teased.
"I want to see her get a square deal, that's all," Jack replied, his face
flushing.
Joe the Sweeper sidled over to the couple. "What's the verdict?" he asked
in a confidential tone.
Jack pretended not to understand.
"Is the gal going to get fired?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Jack answered coldly. "Why does it mean so much
to you?"
"Why, it don't," the sweeper muttered. "She ain't no skin off my elbow."
Penny and Jack walked on through the workroom, aware that many pairs of
eyes followed them. Sally, bending over a grinding machine, looked up
self-consciously. She was grinding pieces of metal, measuring each with a
micrometer. There was a streak of grease across her cheek and she looked
very tired.
Suddenly as Sally threw the wheel in, there was a loud clattering noise.
The foreman came running. He threw the wheel back.
"What did I do?" Sally gasped, shaking from nervousness.
"You forgot to pull this lever." The foreman said curtly. "Ruined a piece
of work too! Now try to think what you're doing and get down to
business."
Penny and Jack moved away, not wishing to add to the girl's
embarrassment. But a few minutes later, in leaving the workroom, they
again passed close to Sally's machine. This time she did not see them
until they were almost beside her.
"How is it going, Sally?" Jack asked in a friendly way.
Sally raised her eyes, and in so doing forgot her work. As she
automatically placed the metal in line with the wheel, she held her
fingers there without thinking. Another instant and they would have been
mangled.
Horrified, Penny saw what was about to happen.
"Sally!" she cried. Acting instinctively, she reached and jerked the
girl's hand away from the swift turning machinery. The wheel had missed
Sally's fingers by a mere fraction of an inch.
The foreman came running again, obviously annoyed. Shutting off the
machine, he demanded to know what was wrong.
Sally leaned her head weakly on the table, trying to regain composure.
Her face was drained of color and she trembled as from a chill. "Thanks,"
she said brokenly to Penny. "I--I don't know what's the matter with me
tonight. I'm not coordinated right."
"Go take a walk," the foreman advised, not unkindly. "A nice long walk.
Get a drink or something. You'll be okay."
"I'll never learn," Sally said in a choked voice.
"Sure, you will. Everyone has to go through a beginner's stage. Get
yourself a drink. Then you'll feel better."
"Let me go with you," Penny said, taking Sally by the arm.
Without conversation, they made their way between the long rows of
machines to the locker room. There Sally sank down on a bench, burying
her face in her hands.
"I'm nervous and upset tonight," she excused herself. "I can't seem to
get the hang of machine work."
"Why not give it up? Do you really need the money so badly?"
"No," Sally admitted truthfully. "I've set my heart on a college
education, but Pop could raise the money somehow. It's just that he's had
financial troubles the past year, and I wanted to help out."
"Some persons aren't cut out to be factory workers," Penny resumed. "Do
you realize that you nearly lost several of your fingers tonight?"
"Yes," Sally agreed, her freckled face becoming deadly sober. "I'll
always be grateful to you. What Mr. Gandiss said in his office upset me.
I wasn't thinking of my work."
"I thought that might be it. Well, forget the entire matter if you can."
Sally nodded and getting up, drank at the fountain. "I'll have to go back
to work now," she said with an effort. "First, I'll get myself a clean
hanky."
With a key which she wore on a string about her neck, the girl opened her
locker. On the floor lay a leather jacket that had fallen from its hook.
As Sally picked it up, a heavy object slipped from one of the pockets,
thudding against the tin of the locker floor.
She stooped quickly to retrieve it, and then, embarrassed, tried to
shield the article from view. But she could not hide it from Penny who
stood directly behind. The object that had fallen from the jacket was a
small coupling of brass!
CHAPTER
8
_OVERHEARD IN THE GATEHOUSE_
"Why, where did that come from?" Sally murmured as she fingered the piece
of metal. "I never put it in my locker."
Confused, she raised bewildered eyes to Penny. Just then the locker room
door opened and a forelady came in. Miss Grimley's keen gaze fastened
upon the brass coupling in Sally's hand. Awkwardly, the girl tried to
hide it in a fold of her slacks.
"What do you have?" the forelady asked, moving like a hawk toward the
girls.
"Why, nothing," Sally stammered.
"Isn't that a piece of brass?" Miss Grimley demanded. "Where did you get
it?"
"I found it in my locker."
"In your locker!"
"I don't know how it got there," Sally said quickly, reading suspicion in
the other's face. "I'm sure I never put it there."
Miss Grimley took the brass from her, inspecting it briefly.
"This looks very much like one of the parts that has been disappearing
from the stockroom," she said, her voice icy.
"But I've never been near the stockroom!" Sally cried. "In the few days
that I've been employed here, I've barely left my machine."
Penny tried to intercede in the girl's behalf.
"I'm sure Sally knew nothing about the article being in her locker," she
assured the forelady. "When she opened it a moment ago and lifted her
jacket, the piece of brass fell from a pocket."
"Someone must have put it there!" Sally added indignantly. "I'm certain I
never did."
"Have you given your locker key to anyone?"
"No."
"And have you always kept it locked?"
"Why, I think so."
"I am sorry," said Miss Grimley in a tone which implied exactly the
opposite, "but I will have to report this. You understand my position."
"Please--"
"I have no choice," Miss Grimley cut her short. "Come with me, please."
Penny started to accompany Sally, but the forelady by a gesture indicated
that she was not to come. The door closed behind them.
For ten minutes Penny waited, hoping that Sally would return. Finally she
wandered outside. Sally was not on the floor and another girl had taken
her place at the machine.
Seeing Joe the Sweeper cleaning a corridor, Penny asked him about Sally.
"No. 567?" the man inquired with a grin which showed a gap between his
front upper teeth. "You won't see her no more! She's in the employment
office now, and they're giving her the can!"
"You mean she's being discharged?"
"Sure. We don't want no thieves around here!"
"Sally Barker isn't a thief," Penny retorted loyally. "By the way, how
did you know why the girl was taken to the office?"
The question momentarily confused Joe. But his reply was glib enough.
"Oh, I have a way o' knowin' what goes on around here," he smirked. "I
figured that gal was light-fingered the day they hired her. It didn't
surprise me none that they found the stuff in her locker."
"And who told you that?" Penny pursued the subject.
"Why, you said so yourself--"
"Oh, no I didn't."
"It was the forelady," Joe corrected himself. "I seen the brass in her
hand when she came out of the locker room with that gal."
Disgusted, Penny turned her back and walked away in search of Jack. It
was none of her affair, she knew, but it seemed to her that Joe the
Sweeper had taken more than ordinary interest in Sally's downfall. His
statements, too, had been confused.
"I don't trust that fellow," she thought. "He's sly and mean."
Penny could not find Jack, and when she returned to Mr. Gandiss' office,
a secretary told her that the factory owner and her father expected to
meet her at the main gate.
Hastening there, Penny saw no sign of them. Nor was the gateman on duty.
However, hearing low voices inside the gatehouse, she stepped to the
doorway. No one was in view, but two men were talking in the inner
office.
"It worked slick as a whistle," she heard one of them say. "The girl was
caught with the stuff on her, and they fired her."
"Who was she?"
"A new employee named Sally Barker."
"Good enough, Joe. That ought to take the heat off the others for awhile
at least."
The name startled Penny who instantly wondered if one of the speakers
might be Sweeper Joe. Confirming her suspicion, the man came out of the
inner room a moment later. Seeing her, he stopped short and his jaw
dropped.
"What you doin' here?" he demanded gruffly.
"Waiting for Mr. Gandiss," Penny replied. "And you?"
Joe did not answer. Mumbling something, he pushed past her and went off
toward the main factory building.
"He's certainly acting as if he deliberately planned to get Sally into
trouble," she thought resentfully.
Clayton, the gateman, showed his face a moment later, and he too acted
self-conscious. As he checked a car through into the factory grounds, he
glanced sideways at Penny, obviously uneasy as to how much she might have
overheard.
"Been here long?" he inquired carelessly.
"No, I just came," Penny answered with pretended unconcern. "I'm waiting
for my father."
The men did not come immediately. However, as Penny loitered near the
gatehouse, she saw Sally Barker hurriedly leaving the factory building.