THE WATER CURE
In the morning Kit went to the forge. When he arrived the smith was
pulling about some iron, but by and by he gave Kit a nod.
“You cut them potatoes?”
“I expect you ate some for supper.”
“Maybe so,” agreed the smith. “I don’t claim I’m sick!”
Kit studied the fellow. Nothing indicated that he was humorous. His
glance was hard and he pushed forward his heavy jaw. Kit, however, did
not think him antagonistic. For the most part the bridge gang were a
sober lot.
“Shall I start the blower for you?” he inquired.
“You can start your wheel and grind them tools,” replied Bill.
Kit got to work and the revolving grindstone bit the steel. Bill set
the blower going and its rhythmic throb shook the iron walls. Blue
flames danced about the forge, and the iron bedded in the coal began
to shine. Bill, leaning down, turned the glowing lump and the
reflections touched his face. The lines were deep and Kit remarked the
white hair on his knitted brows. His large mouth was firm and his look
was grim. In the background smoke and dust floated about.
Bill pulled the iron from the fire and the gloom was banished. The
heavy hammer crashed and dazzling sparks leaped up. To steady the lump
and use the hammer was awkward, but Kit stayed at the grindstone. Bill
was not the man to whom one rashly offered help.
After a time he gave Kit a bar, marked by a punch where holes must be
made, and Kit clamped the iron on the machine-drill table. The wrench
he used was worn and slipped on the nuts, and Bill gave him a
sliding-jaw spanner.
“When you’re through, put her in the box,” he said.
Kit saw the spanner was a well-made, accurate tool. At the back of the
jaw he noted two small holes, and he smiled.
“To know your tools is useful,” he remarked.
“Sure,” said Bill. “Anyhow, the spanner’s a daisy, and I don’t want
her left about. When the slobs at the bridge drop their truck
overboard they come for mine.”
Kit drilled the holes and thought Bill was satisfied. In the afternoon
the forge was hot, but all he did interested him and he had sweated by
shipyard fires. For two or three days nothing disturbed him; and then
a man from the bridge arrived one morning and threw down some tools.
“You’ll grind them before you stop,” he said, and put a bar on the
anvil. “Eye’s broke. We want her welded up. I’ll wait.”
“That’s so,” said Bill dryly and resumed his hammering.
The workman sat down and began to cut tobacco.
“You don’t want to hustle for me; I’ll take a smoke. Mr. Austin’s
waiting for the bar.”
“Now you talk!” Bill remarked. “Mr. Austin’s the company’s engineer,
but not long since you were slinging rails. I don’t want you near my
tool rack. Skat!”
The other pushed the keg he occupied farther from the wall, and by and
by Bill beckoned Kit. Kit went to the anvil, and for a minute or two
steadied the glowing iron Bill pulled from the forge. The hammer
crashed on the hot metal, and Kit turned his head from the flying
sparks. When the eye was welded Bill plunged the iron in the tank and
threw it on the floor.
“There’s your bolt. Light out!”
The workman went off, and some time afterwards Kit moved some drills
on a bench.
“I don’t see the spanner.”
Bill frowned. “If she’s gone, I know where she went. Railton was
pretty smart.”
“You think he picked up the tool when we welded the bolt? If that is
so, I’m accountable, and I’ll go after the fellow. Suppose you give me
a message for somebody at the bridge?”
“If you went now, Railton would guess we were on his track. You want
to wait until he gets careless. Maybe I’ll think of something in the
afternoon.”
Kit agreed, and at four o’clock he started for the bridge. The foreman
said that the thickness of the stuff the smith inquired about was
standard thickness, and he reckoned Bill ought to know. Kit went back
along the platform and, stopping at the end, looked about.
The afternoon was very hot and the river shone dazzlingly. An angry
turmoil broke against the iron piers, and for some distance
down-stream the current was marked by lines of foam. In the shadow of
the trees on the high bank dark eddies revolved. Across the river,
grass and poplar bluffs rolled back to the horizon.
The landscape, however, did not much interest Kit and he studied the
workmen. Some were occupied on stages hung between the piers; some
crawled about the lattice girders like spiders on a web; their figures
were dark against the thin gray steel and shining water. The wind had
dropped, and along the bank smoke and steam went straight up. In
England Kit had not known the sun as hot.
The men moved languidly, and where a big tie was hoisted two or three
disputed. Kit thought it was the sort of afternoon on which a good
foreman leaves the gang alone. For him to claim the forge spanner
might make trouble; but he must get the tool.
By and by he noted three or four men on a stage who lifted a heavy
brace. They obviously meant to fasten the brace across the lattice for
the riveters. Kit thought one was Railton, and he climbed to the
stage. The men faced the lattice and did not notice his advance. The
stage was four or five feet broad and the other side was open to the
river, twenty feet below. Tools were scattered about the planks, but
Kit did not see the spanner, and he stopped behind Railton. The
fellow’s hip-pocket bulged and Kit believed the spanner accounted for
the bulge.
“Can’t you hold up your end?” one of the gang inquired.
“I’ve most got her fixed,” said Railton. “Ease her to me and the bolt
will go through.”
Kit knew Railton would in a few moments feel for the spanner, and
something must be risked. Moving noiselessly, he pushed his hand into
the bulging pocket. Railton’s hand went round his back, but he dared
not let go the brace, and Kit pulled out the spanner. He stepped back,
and striking his foot against a tool-box, rolled across the planks.
When he jumped up Railton blocked the way to the ladder. Railton’s
face was red and he clenched his fist.
“Did you reckon I carried my wad in my overalls?”
“I reckoned you carried Bill’s spanner,” Kit rejoined.
“Maybe it was Bill’s, but all you can get out of the smithy is yours
for keeps. Hand over!”
Kit began to think he must fight for the tool, but he did not mean to
do so unless he was forced. Railton was big and had, no doubt, for
long been engaged in strenuous labor. Kit was rather lightly built,
and at the drawing office one got soft.
“If your argument’s good, the spanner’s mine. You see, I got the thing
out of your pocket.”
“One on you, Steve!” a man remarked. “Can you beat it?”
“Oh, shucks! I’ve no use for talking,” said Steve. “If you can keep
the spanner for five minutes, Kid, I’ll allow it’s yours.”
Kit doubted. The platform was narrow and encumbered by the tool-box
and a forge. He must fight on awkward ground, and he did not think his
antagonist would use the rules of the boxing ring. He expected to be
beaten, but if he refused the challenge he must leave the camp.
“I’ll try,” he said.
Railton jumped across the platform, as if he trusted his weight and
strength. Kit’s guard was beaten down and his jarred right arm
dropped. He felt as if he were struck by a forge hammer, and he fell
against the lattice. Another knock like that would put him out, and if
he fell the other way he would go into the river. The foreman was some
distance off and, if he resolved to stop the fight, a minute or two
must go before he reached the spot.
Kit edged away from the lattice and tried to maneuver. He hit Railton,
and then the forge blocked his way and he took another knock. He knew
his face was cut; he was dizzy and his breath was going. The group on
the platform melted and his antagonist was indistinct. If he did not
get back to the lattice he must go over the planks, and if he did get
back Railton would batter him against the bars. All the same, he meant
to stick to the spanner.
Then Railton’s arm went round his neck, and he began to hope. On the
narrow stage, where one could not get about, the other’s weight and
muscular force counted for much; but he was a fool to clinch. When one
wrestled by Cumberland rules one did not need much room. Kit was
something of a wrestler, and he knew his antagonist was not. In fact,
if he could brace up for a minute or two, Railton would pay for his
rashness. Kit had turned his head and the fellow could not hit his
face, and for him to use his heavy boots was risky. Railton’s legs
would soon be occupied.
Kit spread his legs, took a smashing blow on his ribs, and grimly felt
for a good hold. When a Cumberland wrestler gets a good hold the
struggle is over. Gasping and straining, he leaned forward and locked
his arms round the other’s back. Then he stiffened his body, set his
mouth, and lifted.
Railton’s feet left the boards and he swayed in Kit’s tense arms. His
body bent and his legs went up. Kit, battered and exhausted, let go
and fell against the forge. Somebody shouted, men ran across the
platform, and Kit saw Railton was not about. The fellow was in the
river. Kit pushed back the others and jumped.
The plunge braced him, and when he came up his dizziness was gone. Not
far off he saw Railton’s head. The fellow tossed about in the broken
water behind the columns, and when Kit tried to reach the spot an eddy
swung him round. Railton vanished, but a few moments afterwards Kit’s
leg was seized and he was strongly pulled down. He got loose and
reached the surface. Railton came up behind him, pushed Kit’s head
under, and let him go.
Kit, fighting for breath, went down-stream. He thought he heard the
men on the stage laugh, and he began to see the joke. He had gone to
help a first-class swimmer. Railton, a yard or two off, turned and
gave him a humorous grin.
“You have surely got some gall! Steer for the bank. I’ll see you
through.”
They were carried down-stream, and when they struggled in the eddies
along the steep bank Railton, a yard or two in front, seized a willow
branch and stretched out his hand.
“Hang on, sonny! I’ll boost you up.”
“If you leave me alone, I can get up,” Kit gasped.
“Get a holt,” said Railton. “You’re going to be pulled up.”
Kit thought he saw a light. The men on the bridge were interested, and
Railton played for their applause.
“Very well,” he said. “I stick to the spanner.”
“That’s so,” Railton agreed, and seized Kit’s hand.
The current swept Kit into the tree, and crawling through the
branches, he reached the bank. Railton pulled him up a steep pitch,
and at the top they saw a man on the path whose clothes were not a
workman’s clothes.
“Mr. Austin! Now I beat it,” said Railton, and plunged into the trees.
Kit stopped. He was battered, and doubted if he could go very fast.
Moreover, to jump for the brush was ridiculous. He turned and faced
the young fellow who gave him the cigarettes at Winnipeg station.
Austin studied him with a twinkle. Kit’s face was cut and the water
ran from his greasy clothes.
“You have rather obviously got up against it,” Austin remarked. “What
was the trouble?”
“I don’t know that it was very important. Railton claimed a spanner I
didn’t think was his,” Kit replied.
“A forge spanner? Well, I’ve known Bill grumble about his tools
vanishing, but a number of the boys stopped for some minutes to watch
the fight, and the company won’t stand for your holding up the gang.”
“I was not at all keen to fight, but I felt I must get the spanner,”
said Kit, in an apologetic voice.
“Steve Railton’s a hefty fellow,” Austin remarked. “Since you threw
him off the stage, perhaps your jumping after him was humorous.”
“The joke was, I went to help a man who swims better than I. No doubt
you noted he pulled me into the willows.”
“I imagine Steve wanted the boys to note it,” said Austin dryly.
“Another time, you must wait until the whistle blows.”
He let Kit go, and Kit, starting for the forge, gave Bill the spanner.
“I got it, but the job was harder than I thought.”
“Looks like that,” the smith agreed. “Did Steve put you in the river?”
“I put Steve in,” Kit replied modestly. “Then I thought I ought to go
after him. I didn’t know he could swim.”
“You have surely got some gall,” said the smith with a hoarse laugh,
and resumed his hammering.
Kit noted the laugh. Although he had not known Bill laugh before, the
fellow was human; but he had begun to shiver and he pulled off his wet
clothes. The forge was very hot and the garments he did not pull off
would soon dry. Kit could not put on other clothes because his trunk
had not yet arrived.