The Hallowell Partnership Part 11

"That's exactly the case, Mr. Moore. Usually our levee gangs follow along and tamp the sand down, or else spread it back from the berm where it has no chance to slide. But it is getting so near the time set for the completion of our upper lateral cut that we are obliged to keep our levee s.h.i.+ft at work on the upper laterals and take our chances on the sand staying where we pile it."

"Just what I'd supposed. Now, I shall need a lot of that sand, in a week or so, for some cement work. S'pose I send you a couple of teams and half a dozen hands to-morrow, to cart off the sand under your direction. Would that help things along?"

"Help things along? I should say it would!" Rod beamed. "It would be the most timely help we could ask."

"But won't it put you to a lot of trouble, sir," asked Burford, "to take the hands off their regular farm-work in that way?"

"W-well, no. Anyway they can haul sand for a day or so without making much difference. And it will be a heap handier for you boys to have the stuff carted off as fast as you throw it ash.o.r.e."

"It surely will. That's the best news we've heard in one while!" The boys stood smiling at each other, completely radiant. Mr. Moore nodded and turned his horses.

"Glad if it will be any accommodation. Well, good day to you all. My good wishes to Mr. Carlisle. Tell him I said he left a couple of mighty competent subst.i.tutes, but that his neighbors will be glad to see him coming back, just the same."

The big carriage with its gay load rolled away.

"So Moore will send men and teams to help us on that sand cut!"

Burford, fairly chortling with satisfaction, started toward the martin-box. "If all our land-owners treated us with half the consideration that he always gives, our work would be a summer's dream. I'm going up to tell Sally Lou."

He had hardly reached the martin-box before he turned with a shout.

"There come our next visitors, Hallowell. The commodore and Mrs.

McCloskey, in that fat little white launch. See?"

Commodore McCloskey it was, indeed. Finnegan's wild yelp of delighted greeting would have told as much. Marian promptly joined the hilarious race to the pier. The commodore, crisp and blinding-white in his starchy duck, stood at his launch wheel, majestic as if he stood on the bridge of an ocean liner. But Mrs. McCloskey, a dainty, soft-eyed, little old lady, with cheeks like Scotch roses, and silky curls white as dandelion down blowing from under her decorous gray bonnet, won Marian's heart at the first glance. She was as quaint and gentle and charming as an old-time miniature.

While the boys took the commodore up and down the laterals that he might see their progress since his last visit, Mrs. McCloskey trailed her soft old black silk skirts to the martin-box door and begged for a glimpse of the baby.

"He's crosser than a p.r.i.c.kly little porcupine," protested Sally Lou, handing him over reluctantly.

"Oh, but he'll come to me just the minute! Won't you, lamb?"

And like a lamb Thomas Tucker forgot his sorrows and snuggled happily into her tender arms, while his relieved mother bustled about and helped Marian to make a generous supply of lemonade; for half a dozen carriage loads of visitors were now coming up the road.

"'Tis amazin'. Where do they all come from?" observed Mrs. McCloskey.

"Yet there's nigh three hundred land-owners in this district. And the commodore, he pa.s.sed the word yesterday that there's close on two hundred thousand acres of land that will be protected by this one drainage contract. Think of that, Miss Marian. Is it not grand to know that your brother is giving the power of his hands and his brains to such a big, helping work as all that?"

"Why, I suppose so." Marian spoke absently.

"And ye will be a help to him, too, I can see that." Mrs. McCloskey put out a hesitating little hand in a quaint old silken mitt and patted Marian's fluffy gown. "'Tis not everybody makes as bould as meself to tell you in so many words of your pretty finery. But sure 'tis everybody that will appreciate it, an' be pleased an' honored with the compliment of it."

Marian looked utterly puzzled.

"You think that I can be a help to Rod? Why, I don't know the least thing about his work. I really don't understand----"

"Well, aren't you a magic-maker, Auntie McCloskey!" Sally Lou put down the lemon-squeezer and stared. "Look at that precious baby! Sound asleep in your lap! While I haven't been able to pacify him for one minute, though I walked and sang all night!"

"'Tis the cruel tooth has come through, I'm thinkin'." Mrs. McCloskey laid the peaceful little porcupine tenderly into his crib. "Now, I'll stay and watch him while you two go and meet your guests. I'll call you the minute he chirps."

The two girls hurried to greet their callers, to offer them chairs on the shady side of the quarter-boat, to serve them with iced tea and lemonade. Much to Marian's surprise, she found herself chattering away vigorously and actually enjoying it all. As Rod had said, the slow stream that came and went all day included all sorts and conditions of folk. There were the gracious old clergyman and his sweet, motherly wife, who stopped for a pleasant half-hour, then jogged on across the country to his "afternoon meeting," twelve miles out in the lowlands.

There were the two brisk young plutocrats from the great Kensington stock farm up-river, who flashed up in a stunning satiny-gray French car, for a brief exchange of courtesies. There were two of the district commissioners, quiet, keen-eyed gentlemen. One of these men, Rod told his sister later, was doing valuable service to the community by his experiments in improving the yield of corn throughout the district. The other commissioner was a lawyer of national reputation.

Mrs. Chrisenberry stopped by, too: a brusque little visitor, sitting very stiff and fine in her cus.h.i.+oned phaeton, her beady eyes darting questions through her shrewd spectacles. Marian, feeling very real grat.i.tude, devoted herself to Mrs. Chrisenberry. That lady, however, hardly spoke till just as she was starting to go. Then she leaned forward in her carriage. She fixed Marian with a gimlet eye.

"It's agreeable to see that you think we district folks _is_ folks,"

she said, very tartly indeed. "I'd some mistrusted the other day, but I guess now that you know what's what. Good-afternoon, all."

"Well, Sally Lou! Will you tell me what she meant?"

Sally Lou nodded wisely.

"Your pretty dress, I suspect. Didn't you hear Mrs. McCloskey praise it, too?"

"Oh!" And now Marian's face was very thoughtful indeed.

Late in the afternoon came the one disagreeable episode of the day.

The drainage district, upon which Roderick and Burford were employed, had become part of a huge league known as the Central Mississippi Drainage a.s.sociation. This league had recently been organized. Its object was the cutting of protective ditches on a gigantic scale, and its annual expenditures for this work would run well past the million mark. Naturally there was strong compet.i.tion between all the great engineering firms to win a favorable standing in the eyes of this new and powerful corporation. The Breckenridge Company, because of its superior record, was easily in the lead. None the less, as Rod had remarked a day or so before, it was up to every member of the Breckenridge Company, from Breck the Great down to the meekest cub engineer, to keep that lead.

Burford jeered mildly at Rod for taking his own small importance to the company so seriously.

"Just you wait and see," retorted Roderick.

"Oh, I'll wait, all right," laughed Burford. To-day, however, he was destined to see; and to see almost too clearly for his own peace of mind.

A sumptuous limousine car whirled up the muddy road. Its lordly door swung open; down stepped a large, autocratic gentleman, in raiment of startling splendor, followed by a quiet, courteous elderly man.

"I am Mr. Ellingworth Locke, of New York. I am the acting president of the Central Mississippi Drainage a.s.sociation," announced the magnificent one. "You gentlemen, I take it, are the--ah--the junior engineers left in charge by Mr. Carlisle?"

Roderick and Burford admitted their ident.i.ty.

"This is Mr. Crosby, our consulting engineer. Now that this district has joined the a.s.sociation, it comes under our direct surveillance.

Mr. Crosby and I desire to go over your laterals and get an idea of your work thus far."

"We are honored." Burford bowed low and welcomed his guests with somewhat flamboyant courtesy. He led the way to the duty-launch.

Roderick followed, bringing the cus.h.i.+ons and the tarpaulin which the quick-witted Sally Lou hastily commanded him to carry aboard for the potentate's comfort.

Of all their guests, that long day, the acting president was the sole critic. At every rod of the big ditch, at every turn of the laterals, he found some petty fault. The consulting engineer, Mr. Crosby, followed him about in embarra.s.sed silence. He was obviously annoyed by his employer's rudeness. However, for all Mr. Locke's strictures, it was evident that he could find no serious fault with the work. Yet both boys were tingling with vexation and chagrin when the regal limousine rolled away at last.

"What does ail his highness? Did ever you see such a beautiful grouch?" Rod mopped his forehead and stared belligerently after the car.

"Nothing ails him but a badly swelled head." Burford's jaw set hard.

"The fact of it is, that the wors.h.i.+pful Mr. Ellingworth Locke hasn't two pins' worth of practical knowledge of dredging. He is a New York banker, and he has no understanding of conditions west of the Hudson.

His bank is to make the loans for the a.s.sociation's drainage, and he has bought a big tract of land in this district. That is why he was elected acting president. Do you see?"

"Yes, that helps to explain things."

"So he struts around and tries to pick flaws with the most trifling points of our construction, to keep us from guessing how little he really knows about the big underlying principles. Gentle innocent, he tries to think he's an expert!" Burford waved a disrespectful muddy paw after the flying car. "All that an acting president is good for, anyway, is to wear white spats and to put on side."

"Well, that engineer knows his job."