But Bob didn’t have to go down the river to tell his new friend that there was a job waiting for him whenever he chose to come and get it. showed up at camp one night just before quitting time. He was waiting for Bob when the latter knocked off and had started homewards.
“Hello there,” said Bob. “What’re you doing up here?”
“I came up after that job we were talking about the other day.”
“Your father’s let you go?”
“Not so’s you could notice it. We had an awful fight to-day and I just up and left. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Do you think there is a chance of my hooking on? I’ve got to have it because I haven’t any money to go any further hunting one.”
Then Bob told him the news that he had been saving for next Sunday. “Come along to the Quarter-house with me and feed, and then we’ll go hunt Whiskers—I mean Mr. Whitney.”
Ted was puzzled at the reference Bob had made to the Chief Engineer. “You called him Whiskers—is that your nickname for him?”
“Not the one we use on this job,” laughed Bob. “We used that back in Virginia.” And during supper Ted made Bob tell the adventures he had had in Virginia with the man who was now in entire charge of the dam.
Mr. Whitney was as good as his word and gave the newcomer a chance to make good as a rodman. Bob felt that because he had found him he was a sort of protégé of his and they were together a good part of the time. At first Jerry was one of their group. But little by little he slipped back into the mood of silence and reserve which had been most noticeable about him before the trip through the had been made. Again he would go off by himself, seeming to prefer it to the companionship of the other two boys. Bob noticed that very rarely did he go down stream when he started off from the camp, but was headed in the general direction of the north. Never since that first day had he invited Bob to go along with him and after several of the trips he let fall remarks about the Service and his job that did not ring true in Bob’s ears. It was as if Jerry were nursing a . But the fact that the boy who had shared the great adventure of the Labyrinth with him seemed to be growing away from him again, did not bother Bob as much as it might have had he and Ted Hoyt not become such good friends.
On Sundays they went fishing together and spent most of the time talking about the Service and their work. Ted soon grew to have the same passion for the Service as had Bob. He was quick to learn and together the boys pored over such text books as they could lay their hands on.
The work on the dam had gone since Mr. Whitney had taken the job over. Except for accidents, nothing really bothersome had happened to delay the work in any way, yet Bob, who was now constantly with the Chief, realized that something was bothering the man he was so fond of. Gone was the half chummy, half air of Mr. Whitney. He was and not at all himself.
Finally it got too much for Bob and one day, taking his courage in both hands, he , “Say, Whisk—Mr. Whitney, what’s gone wrong? Is it anything money won’t cure?” He held his breath awaiting the answer. It was a cheeky, nervy thing to do and if his boss did not take it the right way, he would be in sending him back to the horrible punishment of the draughting room. But he need not have worried. Mr. Whitney was too much of a big boy himself and had too much understanding not to realize that the question had been asked because anything that troubled him meant so much to the boy.
“I guess I’ve been a bear lately, Bob,” he said laughing. “But I’m up against an queer proposition and I don’t yet see just how to tackle it.”
Bob was about to ask another question, but thought better of it.
Evidently his keeping silence was wise, for a minute later Whitney continued, “Although everything seems all right on the surface, I’m afraid there’s going to be trouble with the Mexican . Somebody’s been with them and the trouble down on the border isn’t the situation any.”
“Gee, if the Greasers struck it would tie us up for fair,” broke in Bob anxiously. “Except for the mechanics, and that bunch of Indians from the reservation, they are about all we’ve got. We would have to shut down, wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t reckon it would be as bad as that,” answered Whitney. “When Uncle Sam once starts something, he is pretty likely to carry it through. But we’d have a rough time of it all right. If I could only find out who’s behind ’em—they are not capable of stirring it up amongst themselves—I’d be able to nip the trouble before it got started. If they do strike and we are delayed, the Water Users Association will start on the rampage again.”
“Who are they and why should they be worried by what happens here?” Bob wanted to know.
“They are the farmers who expect to benefit by the water stored by the dam,” explained the man. “They are the people who got together and collectively pledged themselves to pay the Government a certain amount of money each year until all the money the Government has spent is returned. They firmly believe that the engine............