CHAPTER XIV

By noon Bryant and Carrigan had concluded their interviews with

members of the Land and Water Board. All of them had listened, asked

questions, expressed their regret at the situation in which Perro

Creek project found itself, but stated that the Board had no course

other than that of executing the law evoked in the case. They

suggested that Bryant bring an action in the courts to test the law;

they admitted that his company might be forced into the hands of a

receiver; they inquired concerning the possibility of gaining the

consent of the adverse party to a withdrawal of his application. Their

hands, however, said one and all, were tied in the matter.

The engineer and the contractor went down the steps of the state house

and found a seat on a bench at a shady spot of the grounds.

"Just as I expected it would be," Bryant said, grimly.

He sat humped over, his elbows on his knees and his cheeks between his

fists. His eyes were dull, heavy; he had not closed them during the

previous night. He wore the mud-caked lace boots and stained khaki, as

did Carrigan, in which he had departed from camp.

"Well, we haven't quit breathing yet," Pat remarked, licking the

wrapper on the cigar he was about to light.

Lee sat silent for several minutes.

"Anyway, I'll see you don't lose, Pat," he said. "You can figure out

what profit you would have made on your contract if the ditch had been

built and I'll pay you that. Then you can call off your crew."

"Oh, I'll let you down easy, Lee. That wasn't worrying me any," was

the rejoinder. "I was just thinking----" But his words broke off

there, and he again gave his attention to the cigar wrapper that

persisted in coming loose.

Bryant continued his gloomy cogitation. The muscles of his cheeks

moved in hard lumps beneath his fists as if he were champing some

resistant substance. Over his eyes his lids from time to time drooped

sleepily. But all at once he leaped up.

"If I but had something I could take hold of, Pat!" he exclaimed.

"Something I could lay hands on and move, like that bed of rock you

uncovered! So I could go ahead! A law is so damned immaterial that one

has nothing to work against. It leaves a man nowhere, helpless. It

lifts him off the ground and holds him kicking futilely in the air.

Just that. By God, I'm desperate enough to try anything--to try

building the ditch--try whipping Menocal even under this moth-eaten

law he's dug up!"

Pat shut one eye against the smoke curling into it.

"I was speculating a little along the same line," said he, slowly.

"But twelve miles of ditch in ninety days! The whole mesa line! We'd

be crazy to think of it. Let's talk of something else."

Lee's mouth, nevertheless, was twitching, while gleams like light came

and went on his face.

"I always had a weakness for the bad bets," said Pat.

"But twelve miles of ditch!"

"And the nights freezing harder every week," the old contractor added.

"And the days short."

"Yes, and nerve shorter yet," said Pat.

The remark was airily given, but the inference was plain. Lee took a

step aside and stood staring across the capitol grounds, with brows

knit, with lips compressed, the prey of struggling hopes and doubts.

"Pat," he said, turning.

"Well?"

"Do you think we could do it?"

"God knows; I don't. But we could give the job an awful whirl," the

contractor stated.

"The thing looks impossible, preposterous, but if you see the

slightest chance of success I want you to say so. Dirt moving is your

game, not mine. Ninety days; that's thirteen weeks. Almost a mile a

week. Can it be done? Can you do it?"

Pat at last threw away the cigar that refused to draw.

"With men and teams enough I could build a ditch to tide-water in that

time," said he, with sudden energy. "Men and scrapers, scrapers and

men--that's all. You can rip the insides out of any dirt job on earth

if you have the crews. Of course, it takes money, big wages, to get

and hold them."

"Money! What do I care for that if we build the canal? How much more

will it take? How much will you need?"

"Say twenty thousand more."

"Get out your pencil and begin figuring it."

"I don't need a pencil," Carrigan answered. "I haven't been moving

dirt for fifty years without figures sticking to my hair. I've

digested your blue-prints and know what's to come out of the ground.

Now I'll tell you what it would be if there was no frost in the

ground, as in summer--and we'll afterward allow for the frost; and

what's necessary in men, horses, fresnos, shacks, horsefeed, food,

clothes, and general supplies."

And thereupon Carrigan began to pour forth a stream of data so exact,

so comprehensive, so full, that Bryant listened in astonishment. All

carried in his head, ready for use!

"I hope I know my business at your age as you know yours," Lee

exclaimed.

"You will, or ought to. I've paid for what I know in mistakes and

miscalculated jobs, as does every man some time or other--paid in hard

cash. What he learns is all he gets out of losses. Now, the figures I

gave were for summer work; winter dirt moving is another kind of

animal. Work is slower, men are harder to keep, weather is generally

bad."

"This autumn has been later than usual, and it may last," said Lee.

"And it may not," Carrigan stated, emphatically. "It's that that

worries me about this thing. As it is, the ground freezes on top every

night. Let the thermometer make a low drop, and we won't be able to

stick a plow-point into it anywhere."

"There's no moisture to speak of in the soil of the mesa."

"Enough to freeze the dirt, just the same," said Pat.

"We can leave the dam out of consideration."

"Yes; no trouble about finishing that. And your concrete work, Lee,

won't lose you any sleep. A carload of cement from here, gravel from

the river, and a dozen Kennard carpenters to knock together gate and

drop frames--no trick to crack that nut. Frost, lad, frost! It's the

thing to set us groaning."

Bryant sat down and put his hand on the speaker's knee.

"Pat, if we go into this thing and put it through, there will be a

good fat bonus for you."

"Maybe there will be and maybe there won't. Maybe you'll have some

money left when we're done and maybe you'll not have a red cent. In

any case, the old man is with you, Lee, to the end of the scrap--if

you go ahead. What about your bondholders? Will they stand for risking

what's not yet spent? They will save considerable by your stopping

now; they'll lose all if we fail."

"What do you----"

Pat's raised hand halted him.

"Ask me nothing," said he. "That's for you alone to settle. If you

spend their money and win, they'll say 'Thank you'--maybe; and if you

go under, they'll damn you up one side and down the other and probably

try to send you to the pen. You're the chief; you have to decide; you

can't share the responsibility--anyway, not with me. And if you're

inquiring, I'll remark that its considerable responsibility. Go off

yonder by yourself and think it over a bit."

Bryant left the old contractor lighting a fresh cigar. He walked to

another bench a short distance away, where he sat down. In his first

exultation at perceiving a fighting chance to save the project he had

seen only the opportunity, but Carrigan's unexpected turn of the

subject had brought him back to earth. He was guardian, as well as

dispenser, of company funds. He had obligations to the bondholders.

Therefore, would he be justified in risking the money on such a

desperate venture? His soul sank.

But his mind would not cease to revolve about the undertaking, for he

could not at once relinquish his long-cherished dream. The thought of

tame surrender was as wormwood in his mouth. To stand by acquiescent

while the project collapsed! That prospect he could not endure. Never

again, if he capitulated now, would he be able to strike out with the

same courage as in this project; never with the same courage, or

spirit, or faith. The project was his creation! The thing of his brain

and will! Part of himself! And how confidently he had made his plans

and acquired the property and started work! No doubts of his ability

to carry it through! No question of his right to go ahead! No fear of

the task!

The engineer came suddenly to his feet.

Builders throughout the world took equal risks and overcame as great

obstacles every day; it was the measure of their genius and will.

Engineers elsewhere crushed a way through earth and rock to their

goals, and under adverse circumstances, with no thought of failure.

Were there not men who would unhesitatingly take hold of this project

now and complete it in the time allotted? Yes, any number. For the

very same reason that he had launched the scheme. Because they had the

ability, because they had the will, because, most of all, they had

faith--faith in their own powers.

Lee went back to Pat Carrigan.

"We shall build it," said he. "And in ninety days."

The contractor rose.

"You talk like a real 'chief' now, Bryant," he replied. "I was waiting

for that. Come along; we'll start burning the wires."

The Iron Furrow · 第 14 / 32 章