"There's just light enough," Jake remarked, and balancing himself

carefully, walked out upon the pipe.

Dick followed and getting across safely, stopped at the foot of the tower

and looked down at the rough blocks and unfinished ironwork in the bottom

of the gap.

"The men have been told to use the ladder, but as they seldom do so, it

would be safer to run a wire across for a hand-rail," he said. "Anybody

who slipped would get a dangerous fall."

They went on to Bethune's iron shack, where Stuyvesant joined them, and

after dinner sat outside, talking and smoking. A carafe of Spanish wine

and some glasses stood on a table close by.

"I've fired Jose's and Pancho's gangs; they've been asking for it for

some time," Stuyvesant remarked. "In fact, I'd clear out most of the

shovel boys if I could replace them. They've been saving money and are

getting slack."

The others agreed that it might be advisable. The half-breeds from the

hills, attracted by good wages, worked well when first engaged, but

generally found steady labor irksome and got discontented when they had

earned a sum that would enable them to enjoy a change.

"I don't think you'd get boys enough in this neighborhood," Bethune said.

"That's so. Anyhow, I'd rather hire a less sophisticated crowd; the

half-civilized Meztiso is worse than the other sort, but I don't see

why we shouldn't look for some further along the coast. Do you feel like

taking the launch, Brandon, and trying what you can do?"

"I'd enjoy the trip," Dick answered with some hesitation. "But I'd

probably have to go beyond Coronal, and it might take a week."

"That won't matter; stay as long as it's necessary," Stuyvesant said, for

he had noticed a slackness in Dick's movements and his tired look.

"Things are going pretty well just now, and you have stuck close to your

work. The change will brace you up. Anyhow, I want fresh boys and

Bethune's needed here, but you can take Jake along if you want company."

Jake declared that he would go, but Dick agreed with reluctance. He felt

jaded and depressed, for the double strain he had borne was beginning to

tell. His work, carried on in scorching heat, demanded continuous effort,

and when it stopped at night he had private troubles to grapple with.

Though he had been half-prepared for Clare's refusal, it had hit him

hard, and he could find no means of exposing Kenwardine's plots without

involving her in his ruin. It would be a relief to get away, but he might

be needed at Santa Brigida.




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