Brandon of the Engineers

The men flagged, as the sun got higher, and at length Dick sat down in

the thin shade of a tree. The light was now intense, the curving dam

gleamed a dazzling pearly-gray through a quivering radiance, and the

water that had gathered behind it shone like molten silver. One could

imagine that the pools reflected heat as well as light. Dick's eyes

ached, and for a few minutes he let them rest upon the glossy, green

jungle, and the belts of cultivation down the hill.

Then he roused himself, because he must watch what was going on. The

great blocks must be properly fitted into place, and one could not trust

the dusky laborers to use the care that was needed; besides, they were

getting slack, and the fresh blocks the locomotives brought would soon

begin to accumulate. Since this would mean extra handling and consequent

expense, the track must be kept clear. Still, Dick wished noon would

come, for his head ached badly and he felt the heat as he had not felt it

before.

It was hard to force himself to begin again after the short mid-day rest,

but he became a little more vigorous as the sun sank and the shadow of

the black cordillera lengthened across the valley. After dinner, when he

lounged on the veranda, the headache and lassitude returned, and he

listened to Jake's talk vacantly and soon went to bed. He knew he was not

well, but while malarial fever was not unusual in the neighborhood people

seldom took it in a virulent form, and as there was a good doctor at

Santa Brigida he determined to consult him when he had occasion to visit

the town. As it happened, a crane broke next day, and when evening came

he set off to inquire if new castings could be made for it in the Spanish

foundry. While he waited for an engine to take him down the line, Jake

announced his intention of coming.

"I've never been round a Spanish town," he said.

"You're not going round a Spanish town now, if I can prevent it," Dick

rejoined. "However, I suppose I can't order you off your father's

locomotive."

Jake smiled. "You can resent my taking the line you hint at when I've

done so, but I guess one must make allowances. You're getting the fever

badly, partner."

"It's the heat," Dick answered in an apologetic tone. "Anyhow, Santa

Brigida's a dirty, uninteresting place."

"I expect your ideas of what's interesting are different from mine.

Concrete's all right in the daytime, though you can have too much of it

then, but you want to please your eye and relax your brain at night."

"I was afraid of something of the kind. But here's the locomotive. Get

up, if you're coming."

Dick was silent as the engine jolted down the track, for he was feverish

and his companion's talk irritated him. Besides, he had promised Ida

Fuller to take care of the lad and knew something of the license that

ruled in the city. Jake seemed to claim the supposititious privileges of

the artistic temperament, and there were wine-shops, gamblers, pretty

Creole girls with easy manners, and ragged desperados who carried knives,

in Santa Brigida. In fact, it offered too many opportunities for romantic

adventures. In consequence, Dick went to the Hotel Magellan, which they

reached after walking from the end of the line, and took Jake into the

bar.