KIT TAKES HIS CUE
Wheeler put down the Montreal newspaper and knitted his brows. Snow
beat the office windows and the lamp burned unsteadily. A savage wind
screamed in the trees and the river brawled. Winter ought to have
begun, and Wheeler had expected keen frost to follow the snow, but all
the snow that fell melted, and when it went cold rain swelled the
pools along the muddy track.
Had the frost arrived, Wheeler would have sent off most of the men and
cut expenses by keeping only the limited number he could usefully
employ. Now, however, he must carry on as long and fast as possible.
The drawback was, he might not finish all he began, and when the
spring floods hurled the ice floes against the piers, girders and
columns must be firmly stayed. A Canadian river’s breaking is an
impressive spectacle.
In the meantime, frost and thaw and rain embarrassed the gangs. The
boys did not earn their pay, and at the head office construction costs
were keenly scrutinized. Then, as soon as the real frost did begin,
the company would call Wheeler East and he must fix on the proper man
to superintend the cutdown gang. Austin was a good engineer, but
sometimes he got sick, and he could not handle the boys like young
Carson. Austin’s soberness was not altogether an advantage; when the
gang was tired and sullen, Carson’s humorous banter went farther than
a command.... Wheeler turned his head, for the door rattled and Kit
came in.
Kit’s long boots were muddy and wet snow stuck to his slickers. He
shook the melting slush from his hat, and when he faced Wheeler his
look was grim. Wheeler thought the boy was riled.
“Hello!” he said. “Is somebody making trouble?”
“The boys are not,” said Kit. “Have you decided who’s to stay at the
bridge?”
“You’re pretty frank,” Wheeler remarked. “If you like, you can have
the job.”
“Then, I suppose you’re sending Austin to the workshops?”
“Where the company sends Austin has nothing to do with you.”
“You stated something like that before. Well, all I’m entitled to say
is, if Austin goes, I won’t stay.”
Wheeler smiled, a rather grim smile. He began to see a light, and he
admitted the boy had grit.
“You reckon, unless you see us out, we can’t put the bridge across?”
“I’m not a fool,” said Kit. “Engineers are pretty numerous. All the
same, there’s something you ought to weigh: for a time the job would
bother a fresh man.”
“It’s possible,” Wheeler agreed. “I begin to get your argument, but go
ahead——”
Kit’s eyes twinkled. In a way, his talking to Wheeler was humorous.
The fellow was his commanding officer and his rule was firm. Kit had
thought to annoy him, but so far as he could see, Wheeler was not
annoyed. Well, if he wanted to argue, Kit was willing.
“Austin knows his job, and I am, so to speak, his understudy. Then
it’s important that the boys know us. I expect you have got a pick on
Austin and thought you’d ship him off and give me his part. The plan
won’t work.”
“Now I get you; but you can’t bluff a big Canadian company. You claim,
unless we hold on to Austin, you will let us down? We’ll risk it. When
do you pull out?”
Kit had thought to conquer; but perhaps in a sense, he had conquered,
since Wheeler could not use him.
“I imagine I’m engaged for a month——”
Wheeler laughed and indicated a chair. “If you’re resolved, we won’t
hold you longer than you want; but suppose you let me talk? To begin
with, I have not a pick on Austin. Bob’s a useful man, but I don’t
know if he’s the proper man to stay at the bridge. If you quit, you’ll
get your pay up to date, but you want to consider. In winter, Canada’s
a pretty hard country. You’d find the labor agents have no use for a
tenderfoot, and the cheap boarding-houses are crowded by broken
roustabouts, waiting for the spring. Since the war I reckon the dollar
hotels have shut down. However, if your wad is big——”
“My wad is not big. For all that, I’m not going to take Austin’s
post.”
“Very well! You claimed you were not a fool. Suppose I send you East?
If the company tried you out at the office, would it meet the bill?”
“I’d be glad to go,” said Kit. “Since I meant to bluff you, you’re
generous.”
“Then, it’s fixed, but until the frost stops us, we want you at the
bridge. I guess that’s all, and you won’t talk to Austin about it.”
Kit went off. He had not helped Austin, but he had done all he
promised to do, and to know he would pay for his meddling was some
relief. Since he could not bluff Wheeler, there was no use in hurting
himself.
For a week, rain and snow embarrassed the workmen. Sometimes in the
morning the mud about the camp was frozen and hoar frost sparkled on
the trees, but in a few hours the rain began. The swollen river
undermined the bank, and the material stacked along the track sank in
the mire. To handle the wet and greasy steel was awkward, but arctic
winter would soon arrive, and the work was stubbornly pushed on.
Then a telegram called Wheeler to the company’s office and the strain
got worse, for the gangs did not stop at night, and somebody besides
the foremen must be about. Kit thought the extra effort bothered
Austin, and when he returned one stormy evening to the shack he found
Bob by the stove. His face was pinched and he was wrapped in a
blanket.
“I was forced to stop, but I’m getting warm,” he said in an apologetic
voice. “If you think all’s pretty straight, I’ll go to bed after
supper. A good sleep will fix me up.”
Kit said he did not expect trouble, and for an hour or two he meant to
loaf. To pull off his muddy boots and wet slickers was some relief,
and after supper he carried his chair to the stove and lighted his
pipe. Austin, sitting opposite rested his feet on a box. His pose was
slack, and sometimes he shivered.
“After all, I don’t think you ought to complain about the company’s
sending you off,” Kit remarked.
“I don’t know that I do complain,” Austin rejoined. “If I was often
bothered like this, I’d be resigned to quit, but I’m persuaded the
trouble’s going. One can stand for keen frost—to wear wet clothes, to
jump up as soon as you get to sleep and tumble about in the rain and
dark is another proposition. To-night my back hurts and I’m dull and
cold, but I expect to be all right in the morning.”
Kit doubted, but he said: “Mrs. Austin would sooner you were at the
drawing office.”
“Carrie’s glad,” Austin agreed. “Still at Toronto she was rather
important, and she ought to have cultivated friends. She likes music
and pictures and so forth, but so long as my pay is small she must go
without. I had hoped to get ahead and give her a better time. To be
beaten by a weak body is riling.”
“Philosophy’s the proper plan; but perhaps you ought to go to bed.”
“I’ll go soon. Now I’ve got myself fixed right and my back is easier,
I don’t want to move.”
Kit said nothing. Snow beat the windows and the iron roof rattled; he
was tired and frankly did not want to face the storm. The stove-front
got red and the heat was soothing. For an hour he resolved to let
himself go slack.
By and by a foreman pushed back the door. He breathed fast, and his
look was grim.
“We have got the brace across at the end pier, but the ends won’t meet
the bolt holes in the lugs.”
Austin threw off the blanket and jumped up.
“Are the ends much short?”
“Maybe an inch, but we can’t spring the frames. I’ve sent for jacks
and the chain tackle. Looks as if the outside lug wasn’t plumb in
line——”
“Get to it,” said Austin. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
The other went off, and Kit was sorry Wheeler was not about. He
thought a screw pile carrying a column had sunk. The brace the men
tried to fix would support the column, but the bolts must reach the
holes. A bridge is not geometrically accurate and one must sometimes
_spring_ a member to its place. In a snowstorm, however, to force the
stiff frames to meet would be hard.
“Stop by the stove,” he said. “As soon as I think we win out, I’ll
send you word.”
“I’m going,” Austin rejoined. “When Wheeler’s not around I’m in
control. Besides, if I go sick when I’m wanted, the company would be
entitled to keep me at the office. I can’t risk it.”
They disputed, but Austin was firm and Kit helped him pull on his
thick clothes. When he picked up Austin’s slicker he saw the back was
torn.
“A bolt end,” said Austin. “I helped the boys throw some heavy stuff
from a trolley.”
“Take my coat,” said Kit, and when he put on Austin’s he turned his
head and smiled.
In a way, Bob’s obstinacy was justified, for the man who makes good is
the man who is where he is wanted; but Kit began to see a plan. He had
stated that he was Austin’s understudy, and the torn slicker was his
cue. The tear was conspicuous and was made when the men were about.
Now, however, Kit had got the coat, the night was dark, and the snow
was thick. If Austin were knocked out, Kit thought he could play his
part.
“You’re stubborn, Bob, but let’s get off,” he said.