Brandon of the Engineers

Where the upper surface broke off, two gangs of men stood beside the

tackles that trailed away from the foot of the derrick. The flame that

leaped with a roar from a lamp on a tripod picked out some of the figures

with harsh distinctness, but left the rest dim and blurred. Dick stood

eight or nine feet below, with the end of the line, along which the

blocks were brought, directly above his head. A piece of rail had been

clamped across the metals to prevent the truck running over the edge.

Jake stood close by on the downward slope of the dam. Everything was

ready for the lowering of the next block, but they had a few minutes to

wait.

"That rib's a great idea," Jake remarked. "Tones up the whole work; it's

curious what you can do with a flowing line, but it must be run just

right. Make it the least too flat and you get harshness, too full and the

effect's vulgarly pretty or voluptuous. Beauty's severely chaste and I

allow, as far as form goes, this dam's a looker." He paused and indicated

the indigo sky, flaring lights, and sweep of pearly stone. "Then if you

want color, you can revel in silver, orange, and blue."

Dick, who nodded, shared Jake's admiration. He had helped to build the

dam and, in a sense, had come to love it. Any defacement or injury to it

would hurt him. Just then a bright, blinking spot emerged from the dark

at the other end of the line and increased in radiance as it came

forward, flickering along the slope of stone. It was the head-lamp of the

locomotive that pushed the massive concrete block they waited for. The

block cut off the light immediately in front of and below it, and when

the engine, snorting harshly, approached the edge of the gap somebody

shouted and steam was cut off. The truck stopped just short of the rail

fastened across the line, and Dick looked up.

The blast-lamp flung its glare upon the engine and the rays of the

powerful head-light drove horizontally into the dark, but the space

beyond the broken end of the dam was kept in shadow by the block, and the

glitter above dazzled his eyes.

"Swing the derrick-boom and tell the engineer to come on a yard or two,"

he said.

There was a patter of feet, a rattle of chains, and somebody called:

"Adelante locomotura!"

The engine snorted, the wheels ground through the fragments of concrete

scattered about the line, and the big dark mass rolled slowly forward. It

seemed to Dick to be going farther than it ought, but he had ascertained

that the guard-rail was securely fastened. As he watched the front of the

truck, Jake, who stood a few feet to one side, leaned out and seized his

shoulder.