QUESTIONS
Hervey had now no incentive to leave the vicinity of camp. Doubtless he
could have performed the great stunt without outside help (now that he
knew it to be a stunt) but luck favored him as it usually did, and the
new work going forward in the cove was enough to occupy his undivided
attention.
He made his headquarters there and hobnobbed with civil engineers and
laborers in the true democratic spirit which was his. The consulting
engineer they called him, which was odd, because Hervey never consulted
anybody about anything. The men all liked him immensely.
Another to benefit by the work on the new dam was Robin Hood, or Mr.
Hood as he was respectfully called. He ran the flivver truck between
the camp and the cove, carrying stone, and also cement and supplies
which came by the railroad. They had to cut a road from the main road
through to the cove.
But one thing was not brought by the flivver, and that was the suction
dredge, a horrible monster, a kind of jumble of house and machinery
which came on a big six-ton truck and was launched into the lake. Its
whole ramshackle bulk shook and shivered when it was in operation
sucking the bottom of the lake up through a big pipe and shooting it
through another long pipe which terminated on the land. Thus sand and
gravel were secured and at the same time the lake was dredged by this
mammoth vacuum cleaner. The pipeline which terminated on the shore was
supported on several floats a few yards apart, and the first scout to
perform the stunt of walking on this pulsating thing was----
Guess.
About a week after work on the dam had begun, Tom rode over to the cove
on the truck with Robin Hood. He had struck up a friendship with the
stranger and liked him, as every one did. The young man was quiet,
industrious, intelligent. He did not encourage questions about himself,
but Tom was the last one to criticise reticence.
Moreover, labor was scarce and willing workers in demand. One thing
which gave the young man favor in camp was his liking for the younger
boys, who frequently rode back and forth with him.
"Well, it's beginning to look like a dam, isn't it?" Tom said, as they
rode along. "You won't be able to get much more stone up behind the
pavilion.... The dam ought to raise the lake level about five or six
feet, the engineers say. That'll mean moving a couple of the cabins
back. Storm was a good thing after all, huh?"
"I guess it will be remembered around these parts for a good many
years," Tom's companion said.
"And you were out in the thick of it," said Tom, in his usual cheery
way. "Up on the mountain it was terrible."
"On the mountain? I was--I was just in the woods. It was bad enough
there."
He looked sideways at Tom, rather curiously. He liked Tom but he could
never make up his mind about him. It always seemed to him, as indeed it
seemed to others, that Tom's cheery, simple, offhand talk bespoke a
knowledge of many things which he did not express. It was often hard to
determine what he was really thinking about.
"I think I'll see that face whenever it storms," Tom said.
"What face?"
"Harlowe's; he was just staring up in the air. Ever see a person who has
suffered violent death, Hood?"
"Once."
"Funny thing, did you ever hear how the eyes of a dead man reflect the
last thing he saw? I know over in France they often saw images in the
eyes of dead soldiers. Near Toul, where I was stationed, they carried in
a dead Frenchy and you could see an airplane in his eyes just as sure as
day."
"Did _you_--did you ever see anything like that?"
"Oh, sure. Ask any army surgeon or nurse."
Hood did not seem altogether satisfied with the answer. He was clearly
perturbed. But he did not venture another question, and for a few
minutes neither spoke.
"Another thing, too, speaking of France," said Tom. "We could always
pick out a fellow that came over from England as soon as they set him to
driving an ambulance. He'd always go plunk over to the left side of the
road. You know they have to keep to the left over there instead of to
the right----"
"Yes, I know----" Hood began, and stopped short.
"Been over there, eh?"
"I'm not English, but I lived there several years, and drove a car."
"Yes?" Tom laughed. "Well, now, I just noticed how _you_ kept edging
over to the left. I didn't think anything about your coming from
England, but I just happened to notice it. Takes a long time to get a
habit out of your nut, doesn't it? People might say you were reckless
and all that when really it would just be that habit that you couldn't
get away from. I've got so as I can tell a Pittsburgh scout, or a
Canadian scout just from little things--little habits."
"You're a pretty keen observer," said Hood; "that about the eyes of a
dead person interests me. When you made that discovery up on the
mountain, do you mean----"
"Your engine isn't hitting on all four, Hood," Tom interrupted.
They both listened for a minute.
"Guess not," said the driver.
"Wire off, maybe," Tom suggested.
Hood stopped the machine and got out. It would have been more like Tom
to jump out and investigate for himself, especially since he had run the
old truck long before Hood had ever seen it. But he did not do it.
Instead, he remained seated. Hood was right, there was nothing whatever
the matter with the engine. He wondered how Tom could have thought there
was.
Tom seemed not greatly interested until his companion climbed in, then
he craned his neck out and looked down where Hood had been standing.
"All right," he finally said; "I was wrong, as usual."
"I think you're usually right," laughed Hood.
Whatever the cause, Tom seemed thoughtful and preoccupied for the rest
of the journey. He whistled some, and that was a sign that he was
thinking. Once he seemed on the point of saying something.
"Hood, do you----" he began. Then fell to whistling again.
And so in a little while they came to the cove.