THE BURSTING OF THE SLUICE
One morning of early summer, Geoffrey Thurston lay neither asleep, nor
wholly awake, inside his double tent. The canvas was partly drawn
open, and from his camp-cot he could see a streak of golden sunlight
grow broader across the valley, while rising in fantastic columns the
night mists rolled away. The smell of dew-damped cedars mingled with
the faint aromatic odors of wood smoke. The clamor of frothing water
vibrated through the sweet cool air, for the river was swollen by
melted snow. Geoffrey lay still, breathing in the glorious freshness,
drowsily content. All had gone smoothly with the works, at least,
during the last month or two. Each time that she rode down to camp
with her father from the mountain ranch, Helen had spoken to him with
unusual kindness. Savine would, when well enough, spend an hour in
Geoffrey's tent. While some of the contractor's suggestions were
characterized by his former genius, most betrayed a serious weakening
of his mental powers, and it was apparent that he grew rapidly frailer,
physically.
On this particular morning Geoffrey found something very soothing in
the river's song, and, yielding to temptation, he turned his head from
the growing light to indulge in another half-hour's slumber. Suddenly,
a discordant note, jarring through the deep-toned harmonies, struck his
ears, which were quick to distinguish between the bass roar of the
canyon and the higher-pitched calling of the rapid at its entrance.
What had caused it he could not tell. He dressed with greatest haste
and was striding down into the camp when Mattawa Tom and Gillow came
running towards him.
"Sluice number six has busted, and the water's going in over Hudson's
ranch," shouted Tom. "I've started all the men there's room for
heaving dirt in, but the river's going through in spite of them."
Geoffrey asked no questions, but ran at full speed through the camp,
shouting orders as he went, and presently stood breathless upon a tall
bank of raw red earth. On one side the green-stained river went
frothing past; on the other a muddy flood spouted through a breach, and
already a shallow lake was spreading fast across the cleared land,
licking up long rows of potato haulm and timothy grass. Men swarmed
like bees about the sloping side of the bank, hurling down earth and
shingle into the aperture, but a few moments' inspection convinced
Geoffrey that more heroic measures were needed and that they labored in
vain. Raising his hand, he called to the men to stop work and, when
the clatter of shovels ceased, he quietly surveyed the few poor fields
rancher Hudson had won from the swamp. His lips were pressed tight
together, and his expression showed his deep concern.
"There's only one thing to be done. Open two more sluice gates, Tom,"
he commanded.
"You'll drown out the whole clearing," ventured the foreman, and
Geoffrey nodded.
"Exactly! Can't you see the river will tear all this part of the dyke
away unless we equalize the pressure on both sides of it? Go ahead at
once and get it done."
The man from Mattawa wondered at the bold order, but his master
demanded swift obedience and he proceeded to execute it, while Geoffrey
stood fast watching two more huge sheets of froth leap out. He knew
that very shortly rancher Hudson's low-level possessions would be
buried under several feet of water.
"It's done, sir, and a blamed bad job it is!" said the foreman,
returning; and Geoffrey asked: "How did it happen?"
"The sluice gate wasn't strong enough, river rose a foot yesterday, and
she just busted. I was around bright and early and found her
splitting. Got a line round the pieces--they're floating beneath you."
"Heave them up!" ordered Geoffrey.
He was obeyed, and for a few minutes glanced at the timber frame with a
puzzled expression, then turning to Gillow, he said: "You know I
condemned that mode of scarting, and the whole thing's too light. What
carpenters made it?"
"It's one of Mr. Savine's gates, sir. I've got the drawing for it
somewhere," was the answer, and Geoffrey frowned.
"Then you will keep that fact carefully to yourself," he replied. "It
is particularly unfortunate. This is about the only gate I have not
overhauled personally, but one cannot see to quite everything, and
naturally the breakage takes place at that especial point."
"Very good, sir," remarked Gillow. "Things generally do happen in just
that way. Here's rancher Hudson coming, and he looks tolerably angry."
The man who strode along the dyke was evidently infuriated, a fact
which was hardly surprising, considering that he owned the flooded
property. The workmen, who now leaned upon their shovels, waited for
the meeting between him and their master in the expectation of
amusement.
"What in the name of thunder do you mean by turning your infernal river
loose on my ranch?" inquired the newcomer. Thurston rejoined:
"May I suggest that you try to master your temper and consider the case
coolly before you ask any further questions."
"Consider it coolly!" shouted Hudson. "Coolly! when the blame water's
washing out my good potatoes by the hundred bushel, and slooshing mud
and shingle all over my hay. Great Columbus! I'll make things red hot
for you."
"See here!" and there were signs that Thurston was losing his temper.
"What we have done was most unfortunately necessary, but, while I
regret it at least as much as you do, you will not be a loser
financially. As soon as the river falls, we'll run off the water,
measure up the flooded land, and pay you current price? for the crop
at average acre yield. As you will thus sell it without gathering or
hauling to market, it's a fair offer."
Most of the forest ranchers in that region would have closed with the
offer forthwith, but there were reasons why the one in question, who
was, moreover, an obstinate, cantankerous man, should seize the
opportunity to harass Thurston.
"It's not half good enough for me," he said. "How'm I going to make
sure you won't play the same trick again, while it's tolerably certain
you can't keep on paying up for damage done forever. Then when you're
cleaned out where'll I be? This scheme which you'll never put
through's a menace to the whole valley, and----"
"You'll be rich, I hope, by that time, but if you'll confine yourself
to your legitimate grievance or come along to my tent I'll talk to
you," said Geoffrey. "If, on the other hand, you cast doubt upon my
financial position or predict my failure before my men, I'll take
decided measures to stop you. You have my word that you will be repaid
every cent's worth of damage done, and that should be enough for any
reasonable person."
"It's not--not enough for me by a long way," shouted the rancher.
"I'll demand a Government inspection, I'll--I'll break you."
"Will you show Mr. Hudson the quickest and safest way off this
embankment, Tom," requested Geoffrey, coolly, and there was laughter
mingled with growls of approval from the men, as the irate rancher,
hurling threats over his shoulder, was solemnly escorted along the dyke
by the stalwart foreman. He turned before descending, and shook his
fist at those who watched him.
"I think you can close the sluices," said Geoffrey, when the foreman
returned. "Then set all hands filling in this hole. I want you,
Gillow."
"We are going to have trouble," he predicted, when English Jim stood
before him in his tent. "Hudson unfortunately is either connected with
our enemies, or in their clutches, and he'll try to persuade his
neighbors to join him in an appeal to the authorities. Send a
messenger off at once with this telegram to Vancouver, but stay--first
find me the drawing of the defective gate."
English Jim spent several minutes searching before he answered: "I'm
sorry I can't quite lay my hands upon it. It may be in Vancouver, and
I'll write a note to the folks down there."
He did so, and when he went out shook his head ruefully. "That
confounded sketch must have been the one I lost on board the steamer,"
he decided with a qualm of misgiving. "However, there is no use
meeting trouble half-way by telling Thurston so, until I'm sure beyond
a doubt."
Some time had passed, and the greater portion of Hudson's ranch still
lay under water when, in consequence of representations made by its
owner and some of his friends, a Government official armed with full
powers to investigate held an informal court of inquiry in the big
store shed, at which most of the neighboring ranchers were present.
Geoffrey and Thomas Savine, who brought a lawyer with him, awaited the
proceedings with some impatience.
"I have nothing to do with any claim for damages. If necessary, the
sufferers can appeal to the civil courts," announced the official. "My
business is to ascertain whether, as alleged, the way these operations
are conducted endangers the occupied, and unappropriated Crown lands in
this vicinity. I am willing to hear your opinions, gentlemen,
beginning with the complainants."
Rancher Hudson was the first to speak, and he said:
"No sensible man would need much convincing that it's mighty bad for
growing crops to have a full-bore flood turned loose on them. What's
the use of raising hay and potatoes for the river to wash away? And
it's plain that what has just happened is going to happen again.
Before Savine began these dykes the river spread itself all over the
lower swamp; now the walls hold it up, and each time it makes a hole in
them, our property's most turned into a lake. I'm neither farming for
pleasure nor running a salmon hatchery."
There was a hum of approval from the speaker's supporters, whose
possessions lay near the higher end of the valley, and dissenting
growls from those whose boundaries lay below. After several of the
ranchers from the lower valley had spoken the official said:
"I hardly think you have cited sufficient to convince an unprejudiced
person that the works are a public danger. You have certainly proved
that two holdings have been temporarily flooded, but the first speaker
pointed out that this was because the river was prevented from
spreading all over the lower end of the valley, as it formerly did.
Now a portion of the district is already under cultivation, and even
the area under crop exceeds that of the damaged plots by at least five
acres to one."
There was applause from the men whose possessions had been converted
into dry land, and Hudson rose, red-faced and indignant, to his feet
again.
"Has Savine bought up the whole province, Government and all? That's
what I'm wanting to know," he rejoined indignantly. "What is it we pay
taxes to keep you fellows for? To look the other way when the rich man
winks, and stand by seeing nothing while he ruins poor settlers'
hard-won holdings? I'm a law-abiding man, I am, but I'm going to let
nobody tramp on me."
A burst of laughter filled the rear of the building when one of
Hudson's supporters pulled him down by main force, and held him fast,
observing, "You just sit right there, and look wise instead of talking
too much. I guess you've said enough already to mix everything up."
The official raised his hand. "I am here to ask questions and not
answer them," he said. "Any more speeches resembling the last would be
likely to get the inquirer into trouble. I must also remind Mr. Hudson
that, after one inundation, he signed a document signifying his
approval of the scheme, and I desire to ask him what has caused the
change in his opinions."
Again there was laughter followed by a few derisive comments from the
party favoring Thurston's cause, while one voice was audible above the
rest, "Hudson's been buying horses. Some Vancouver speculator's check!"
The rancher, shaking off his follower's grasp, bounded to his feet, and
glared at the men behind him. "I'll get square with some of you
fellows later on," he threatened. Turning towards the officer, he went
on: "Just because I'm getting tired of being washed out I've changed my
mind. When he's had two crops ruined, a man begins to get uneasy about
the third one--see?"
"It is a sufficient reason," answered the official. "Now, gentlemen, I
gather that some of you have benefited by this scheme. If you have any
information to give me, I shall be pleased to hear it."
Several men told how they had added to their holdings many acres of
fertile soil, which had once been swamp, and the Crown official said:
"I am convinced that two small ranches have been temporarily inundated,
and six or seven benefited. So much for that side of the question. I
must now ascertain whether the work is carried out in the most
efficient manner, and how many have suffered in minor ways by the
contractors' willful neglect, as the petitioners allege."
Hudson and his comrades testified at length, but each in turn, after
making the most of the accidental upset of a barrow-load of earth among
their crops, or the blundering of a steer into a trench, harked back to
the broken sluice. When amid some laughter they concluded, others who
favored Savine described the precautions Thurston had taken. Then the
inquirer turned over his papers, and Thomas Savine whispered to
Geoffrey: "It's all in our favor so far, but I'm anxious about that
broken sluice. It's our weak point, and he's sure to tackle it."
"Yes," agreed Geoffrey, whose face was strangely set. "I am anxious
about it, too. Can you suggest anything I should do, Mr. Gray?"
The Vancouver lawyer, who had a long experience in somewhat similar
disputes, hitched forward his chair. "Not at present," he answered.
"I think with Mr. Savine that the question of the sluice gate may be
serious. Allowances are made for unpreventable accidents and force of
circumstances, but a definite instance of a wholly inefficient
appliance or defective workmanship might be most damaging. It is
particularly unfortunate it was framed timber of insufficient strength
that failed."
Geoffrey made no answer, but Thomas Savine, who glanced at him keenly,
fancied he set his teeth while the lawyer, turning to the official
inquirer, said:
"These gentlemen have given you all the information in their power, and
if you have finished with them, I would venture to suggest that any
technical details of the work concern only Mr. Thurston and yourself."
There was a protest from the assembly, and the officer beckoned for
silence before he answered:
"You gentlemen seem determined between you to conduct the whole case
your own way. I was about to dismiss with thanks the neighboring
landholders who have assisted me to the best of their ability."
With some commotion the store-shed was emptied of all but the official,
his assistant, and Thurston's party. Beckoning to Geoffrey, the
official held up before his astonished eyes a plan of the defective
gate. "Do you consider the timbering specified here sufficient for the
strain?" he asked. "I cannot press the question, but it would be
judicious of you to answer it."
"No!" replied Geoffrey, divided between surprise and dismay.
The drawing was Savine's. He could recognize the figures upon it, but
it had evidently been made when the contractor was suffering from a
badly-clouded brain. The broken gate itself was damaging evidence, but
this was worse, for a glance at the design showed him that the
artificers who worked from it had, without orders even, slightly
increased the dimensions. Any man with a knowledge of mechanical
science would condemn it, but, while he had often seen Savine incapable
of mental effort of late, this was the first serious blunder that he
had discovered. The mistake, he knew, would be taken as evidence of
sheer incapacity; if further inquiry followed, perhaps it would be
published broadcast in the papers, and Geoffrey was above all things
proud of his professional skill. Still, he had pledged his word to
both his partner and his daughter, and there was only one course open
to him, if the questions which would follow made it possible.
The lawyer, leaning forward, whispered to Thomas Savine, and then said
aloud, "If that drawing is what it purports to be, it must have been
purloined. May we ask accordingly how it came into your possession?"
"One of the complainants forwarded it to me. He said
he--obtained--it," was the dry answer. "Under the circumstances, I
hesitate to make direct use of it, but by the firm's stamp it appears
genuine."
"That Mr. Savine could personally be capable of such a mistake as this
is impossible on the face of it," said the inquirer's professional
assistant. "It is the work of a half-trained man, and suggests two
questions, Do you repudiate the plan, and, if you do not, was it made
by a responsible person? I presume you have a draughtsman?"
"There is no use repudiating anything that bears our stamp," said
Geoffrey, disregarding the lawyer's frown, and looking steadily into
the bewildered face of Thomas Savine. "I work out all such
calculations and make the sketches myself. My assistant sometimes
checks them."
The official, who had heard of the young contractor's reputation for
daring skill, looked puzzled as he commented:
"From what you say the only two persons who could have made the blunder
are Mr. Savine and yourself. I am advised, and agree with the
suggestion, that Mr. Savine could never have done so. From what I have
heard, I should have concluded it would have been equally impossible
with you; but I can't help saying that the inference is plain."
"Is not all this beside the question?" interposed the lawyer. "The
junior partner admits the plan was made in the firm's offices, and that
should be sufficient."
Geoffrey held himself stubbornly in hand while the officer answered
that he desired to ascertain if it was the work of a responsible
person. He knew that this blunder would be recorded against him, and
would necessitate several brilliant successes before it could be
obliterated, but his resolution never faltered, and when the legal
adviser, laying a hand upon his arm, whispered something softly, he
shook off the lawyer's grasp.
"The only two persons responsible are Mr. Savine and myself--and you
suggested the inference was plain," he asserted.
Here Gillow, who had been fidgeting nervously, opened his lips as if
about to say something, but closed them again when his employer, moving
one foot beneath the table, trod hard upon his toe.
"I am afraid I should hardly mend matters by saying I am sorry it is,"
said the official, dryly. "However, a mistake by a junior partner does
not prove your firm incapable of high-class work, and I hardly think
you will be troubled by further interference after my report is made.
My superiors may warn you--but I must not anticipate. It is as well
you answered frankly, as, otherwise, I should have concluded you were
endeavoring to make your profits at the risk of the community; but I
cannot help saying that the admission may be prejudicial to you, Mr.
Thurston, if you ever apply individually for a Government contract.
Here is the drawing. It is your property."
Geoffrey stretched out his hand for it, but Savine was too quick for
him, and when he thrust it into his pocket, the contractor, rising
abruptly, stalked out of the room. Gillow, who followed and overtook
him, said:
"I can't understand this at all, sir. Mr. Savine made that drawing. I
know his arrows on the measurement lines, and I was just going to say
so when you stopped me. I have a confession to make. I believe I
dropped that paper out of my wallet on board the steamer."
"You have a very poor memory, Gillow," and Thurston stared the speaker
out of countenance. "I fear your eyes deceive you at times as well.
You must have lost it somewhere else. In any case, if you mention the
fact to anybody else, or repeat that you recognise Mr. Savine's
handiwork, I shall have to look for an assistant who does not lose the
documents with which he is entrusted."
Gillow went away growling to himself, but perfectly satisfied with both
his eyesight and memory. Thurston had hardly dismissed him than Thomas
Savine approached, holding out the sketch.
"See here, Geoffrey," began the contractor's brother, and one glance at
the speaker was sufficient for Thurston, who stopped him.
"Are you coming to torment me about that confounded thing? Give it to
me at once," he said.
He snatched the drawing from Savine's hand, tore it into fragments, and
stamped them into the mould. "Now that's done with at last!" he said.
"No," was the answer. "There's no saying where a thing like this will
end, if public mischief-makers get hold of it. You have your future,
which means your professional reputation, to think of. In all human
probability my poor brother can't last very long, and this may handicap
you for years. I cannot----"
"Damn my professional reputation! Can't you believe your ears?"
Geoffrey broke in.
"I'm not blind yet, and would sooner trust my eyes," was the dry
answer. "Nobody shall persuade me that I don't know my own brother's
figures. There are limits, Geoffrey, and neither Helen nor I would
hold our peace about this."
"Listen to me!" Geoffrey's face was as hard as flint. "I see I can't
bluff you as easily as the Government man, but I give you fair warning
that if you attempt to make use of your suspicions I'll find means of
checkmating you. Just supposing you're not mistaken, a young man with
any grit in him could live down a dozen similar blunders, and, if he
couldn't, what is my confounded personal credit in comparison with what
your brother has done for me and my promise to Miss Savine? So far as
I can accomplish it, Julius Savine shall honorably wind up a successful
career, and if you either reopen the subject or tell his daughter about
the drawing, there will be war between you and me. That is the last
word I have to say."
"I wonder if Helen knows the grit there is in that man," pondered
Savine, when, seeing all protests were useless, he turned away, divided
between compunction and gratitude. Neither he nor the lawyer succeeded
in finding out how the drawing fell into hostile hands, while, if
Geoffrey had his suspicions, he decided that it might be better not to
follow them up.