“TRYING OUT” THE GRIDLEY BOYS
The chainmen picked up the transits, carrying also the chains
and rods. Rutter led the way, Tom and Harry keeping on either
side of him, except when the rough mountain trail narrowed. Then
they were obliged to walk at his heels.
“We are making this survey first,” Rutter explained, “and then
the leveling over the same ground follows within a few days.
Both the surveying and the leveling have to be done with great
care. They must tally accurately, or the work will all go wrong,
and the contractors would be thrown out so badly that they’d hardly
know where they stood. A serious mistake in surveying or leveling
at any point might throw the work down for some days. As you’ve
already heard explained, any delay, now, is going to lose us our
charter as sure as guns.”
For more than a mile and a half the brisk walk continued. At
last Rutter halted, pointing to a stake driven in the ground.
“See the nail head in the top of the stake?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Tom nodded.
“You’ll find a similar nail head in every stake. The exact point
of the plummet of your bog-line must centre on the middle of that
nail head. You can’t be too exact about that, remember.”
Turning to one of the chainmen, Rutter added:
“Jansen, take a rod and hustle along to the next stake.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the man, and started on a run. Nor did he
pause until he had located the stake. Then he signaled back with
his right hand. Tom Reade, in the meantime, had quickly set up
his transit over the first stake on his part of the course. He
did some rough shifting, at first, until the point of the plummet
was exactly over the nail head. Then followed some careful adjusting
of the instrument on its supports until two fine spirit levels
showed that the compass of the instrument was exactly level.
“Now, let me see you get your sight,” urged Rutter.
Tom did so, coolly, manipulating his instrument as rapidly as
he could with safety, yet not with speed enough to cause himself
confusion or worry.
“I’ve got a sight on the rod,” announced Reade, without emotion.
“Are the cross-hairs, as you see them through the telescope, just
on the mark?” Rutter demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me have a look,” ordered Rutter. “A fine, close sight,” he
assented, after taking a careful look through the telescope.
“Now, take your reading.”
This showed the course by the compass, and was expressed in degrees,
minutes and seconds. The poor reading of a course is one of the
frequent faults of new or careless engineers.
“Here is a magnifier for the vernier,” continued Rutter, just
after Tom had started to make his reading.
“Thank you; I have a pretty good one of my own,” Tom answered,
diving into one of his pockets and bringing to light a small but
powerful reading glass with an aplanatic lens.
“You carry a better magnifier than I do,” laughed Rutter. “Hazelton,
do You carry a pocket glass?”
“Yes, sir,” nodded Harry “I have one just like Reade’s.”
“Good! I can see that you youngsters believe in good tools.”
Tom in the meantime was busy with the vernier of his transit.
This is an ingenious device for showing the smaller divisions
into which the circles of the compass are divided. Tom quickly
jotted down his field note in degrees, minutes and seconds. One
chainman now held an end of a hundred-link chain at the nail head
on the stake, while a second man started toward the rodman, unfolding
the chain as he went.
Tom remained over his transit. The traveling chainman frequently
glanced back for directions from Reade whether or not he was off
the course of a straight line to the next stake.
Soon the chain-bearer was a little to the left of the line.
Tom held a hand over the telescope of the transit, moving it very
slowly to the right. The chain-bearer, glancing slowly back,
stepped slowly to the right of the course until Tom’s hand fell
abruptly. Then the chain-bearer stopped, knowing that he was
on the right line. A metal stake, having a loop at the top from
which fluttered a marker of red flannel, the man stuck upright
in the ground. Tom took a peep, signaling so gently that the
man moved the stake just half an inch before Reade’s hand again
fell.
“That stake is right; go ahead,” ordered Tom, but he said it not by
word of mouth, but merely with a slight gesture of pushing forward.
“You’ve been well trained, I’ll bet a hat,” smiled Butter. “I
can tell that by the practiced way that you signal. O’Brien!”
“Yes, sir,” answered another chainman, stepping forward.
“Take Thane with you, and carry Mr. Hazelton’s transit to Grizzly
Ledge. Mr. Hazelton and I will be there presently.”
Two more chainmen started away.
Now, both of Tom’s chainmen started forward, the rear one moving
to the first metal stake that displayed the red marker. Tom still
remained at the transit, motioning to the men whenever they got
the least out of a true straight line to the rodman. It was not
hard work for Reade at this point, but it required his closest
attention.
After some time had passed the chainmen had “chained” the whole
distance between Tom’s stake and the rod resting on the next stake.
Now the rodman, after making a close measurement, signaled back.
Nine downward sweeps of his right arm signified nine chains;
next the movements of his arm signaled the forty-four links of
a tenth chain. Then seven movements of the left hand across in
front of the eyes, and Reade knew that stood for seven-tenths
of a link. Hence on the page of his field note book Tom wrote
the distance between the stakes as nine chains and forty-four
and seven-tenths links.
“That’s good,” nodded Rutter, who had been watching every move
closely. The forty-four signaled by the rodman’s left arm, instead
of being made up of forty-four downward strokes, had consisted
of four such strokes, followed by a pause, and then four more
strokes.
“I’ll go along and see you get the course and distance to the
third rod,” said Rutter.
This course and distance, too, in time, had been measured and
carefully noted by Reade.
“You’ll get along all right, if you pay strict attention and don’t
become confused or careless,” nodded Jack Rutter. “Now, I’ll
write ‘Reade’ on this starting stake of yours, and I’ll write
Hazelton on your friend’s starting stake. After you’ve surveyed
to Hazelton’s starting stake let your rodman bring you forward
until you overhaul me.”
“Very good, sir,” nodded Tom coolly.
Rutter and Harry moved along the trail, leaving Tom with his own
“gang.”
“Nothing very mentally wearing in this job,” reflected Tom, when
he found himself left to his own resources. “All a fellow has
to do is to keep his head clear, be faithful and exactly honest
with his work, and move with all the speed that good, straight
work will allow.”
So Reade moved ahead, getting courses and distances to five more
stakes. Then, as he reached the sixth, he gazed ahead and smiled.
A mountain pond lay right in his straight path to the seventh stake.
“Can that pond be easily forded?” Reade asked the nearer chainman.
“No, sir; it’s about ten feet deep in the centre.”
Tom smiled grimly to himself.
“Rutter didn’t say anything about this to me,” Tom muttered to
himself. “He put this upon me, to see how I’d get over an obstacle
like an unfordable pond. Well, it’s going to take a lot of time
but I’ll show Mr. Jack Rutter!”
Accordingly, Reade allowed his chainmen to proceed measuring until
they were fairly close to the pond. Then he went forward to the
metal stake that had just been driven. From this stake he laid
out a new course to the north and at exact right angles with the
proper course, sending his chainmen forward with markers. When
he had thus passed the end of the pond Reade took another course
at exactly right angles to the northerly course, but now going
westerly. This he extended until it passed the pond by a few
feet. Once more Reade laid out a course, southerly, at exact
right angles with the westerly course, the southerly line being
exactly four chains in length, as the northerly line had been.
Now, the young engineer was able to resume his surveying toward
the seventh stake. The extra route that he had followed made
three sides of a square. Tom was now in line again, with the
pond passed, and the exact distance between the sixth and seventh
stakes.
“I guess that was where Rutter was sure he’d have me,” chuckled
Tom quietly. “He’s probe ably waiting ahead to see me come hot-footing
over the trail to ask for orders.”
At the tenth stake Tom found “Hazelton” written thereon.
“Men,” said the young engineer, “I guess this is where we go forward
and look for the crowd. Get up the stuff and we’ll trot along.”
Nearly an hour of solid tramping over the trail followed before
Tom and his party, guided by the rodman, came upon Harry Hazelton.
Jack Rutter, chewing a blade of grass, sat under a tree at a
little distance from where Harry was watching and signaling to
two chainmen who were getting a distance.
“Is your own work all done?” asked Rutter.
“Yes, sir,” Tom answered.
“Let me see your field notes.”
Reade passed over the book containing them. From an inner pocket
Rutter drew out his own field note book. Before another minute
had passed Tom had opened his eyes very wide.
“Your field notes are all straight, my boy. If you’ve made any
errors, then I’ve made the same.”
“You’ve already been over this work that we’ve been doing?” demanded
Tom, feeling somewhat abashed.
“Of course,” nodded the older and more experienced engineer.
“You don’t for a moment suppose we’d trust you with original work
until we had tried you out, do you? We have all the field notes
for at least three miles more ahead of here. Hazelton!”
“Coming,” said Harry, after jotting down his last observations
and the distance.
“Let me see your last notes, Hazelton,” directed Rutter. “Yes;
your work is all right.”
“What do you know about this, Harry?” laughingly demanded Reade.
“I’ve suspected for the last two hours that Mr. Rutter was merely
trying us out over surveyed courses,” laughed Harry.
“If you don’t know how to do anything other than transit work,”
Rutter declared, “the chief can use all your time at that. He’ll
be pleased when I tell him that you’re at least as good surveyors
as I am. And, Reade, I see from your notes that you knew how
to measure across a pond that your chainmen couldn’t ford.”
“Mr. Price taught me that trick, back in Gridley,” Tom responded.
Suddenly Jack Rutter sprang to his feet sniffing vigorously.
“Boys,” he announced, “an adventure is coming our way. Can you
guess what it is?”
Tom and Harry gazed at him blankly.