CHAPTER X
BRASS TACKS
On the day following the radio lecture, true to his promise, Professor Gray led Bill and Gus to the broad acres of the Hooper estate and there, with the plans before them, they went over the ground chosen for the water-power site, comprehending every detail of the engineering task. Professor Gray was more pleased than surprised by the ready manner in which both lads took hold of the problem and even suggested certain really desirable changes.
Bill indicated a better position fifty yards upstream for the dam and he sketched his idea of making a water-tight flood gate which was so ingenious that the Professor became enthusiastic and adopted it at once.
After nearly a whole day spent thus along the rocky defiles of the little stream, eating their lunch beside a cold spring at the head of a miniature gulch, the trio of engineers were about to leave the spot when a gruff voice hailed them from the hilltop. Looking up they saw another group of three: an oldish man, a slim young fellow who was almost a grown man and a girl in her middle teens. The young people seemed to be quarreling, to judge from the black looks they gave each other, but the man paid them no attention. He beckoned Professor Gray to approach and came slowly down the hill to meet him, walking rather stiffly with a cane.
"Well, Professor, you're beginnin' to git at it, eh? Struck any snags yit? Some job! I reckon you're not a goin' to make a heap outside the price you give me. When you goin' to git at it reg'lar?"
"Right away, Mr. Hooper. To-morrow. We have been making our plans to-day and these young assistants of mine, who will principally conduct the work, are ready to start in at once. They—"
"Them boys? No, sir! I want this here work done an' done right; no bunglin'. What's kids know about puttin' in water wheels an' 'letric lights? You said you was—"
"These boys are no longer just kids, Mr. Hooper, and they know more than you think; all that is needed to make this job complete. Moreover, I am going to consult with them frequently by letter and I shall be entirely responsible. It is up to me, you know."
Mr. Hooper evidently saw the sense in this last remark; he stood blinking his eyes at Bill and Gus and pondering. The slim youth plucked at his sleeve and said something in a low voice.
Gus suddenly remembered the fellow. The youth had come into the town a week or two before. He had, without cause, deliberately kicked old Mrs. Sowerby's maltese cat, asleep on the pavement, out of his way, and Gus, a witness from across the street, had departed from his usually reticent mood to call the human beast down for it. But though Gus hoped the fellow would show resentment he did not, but walked on quickly instead.
Mr. Hooper listened; then voiced a further and evidently suggested opposition:
"Them lads is from the town here; ain't they? Nothin' but a lot o' hoodlums down yan. You can't expec'—"
"You couldn't be more mistaken, Mr. Hooper. I'll admit there are a lot of young scamps in Fairview, but these boys, William Brown and Augustus Grier, belong to a more self-respecting bunch. I'll answer for them in every way."
"Of course, Dad, Professor Gray knows about them. Billy and Gus are in our class at school." This from the girl who had joyfully greeted the Professor and the boys, yodeling a school yell from the hillside. Then she shot an aside at the slim youth: "You're a regular, downright simpleton, Thad, and forever looking for trouble. Don't listen to him, Dad."
This appeared to settle the matter. Mr. Hooper squared his shoulders and grinned broadly, adding: "Well, I ain't just satisfied 'bout them knowin' how, but go to it your own way, Professor. I'm a goin' to watch it, you know; not to interfere with your plans an' ways, but it's got to be done right. If it goes along free an' fine, I ain't goin' to kick."
The Professor explained that they had further work to do on the plans and must be going back. He took leave of Mr. Hooper and the daughter, and retreated with the boys as hurriedly as Bill could manage his handy crutch. They all proceeded silently in crossing the broad field, but when in the road Bill had to voice his thoughts:
"I expect that old fellow'll make it too hot for us."
"Not for a minute; you need not consider that at all. Of course it would be more satisfactory if Mr. Hooper could be assured at once of your real ability, but it will have to grow on him. Just let him see what you can do; that's all."
"I rather expect we can frame up something that will satisfy him and
Bill can spring it," said Gus.
"In just what way, can you imagine?" queried the Professor.
"Some geometrical stunt, maybe; triangulation, or—"
"Why, sure! That's just it!" exploded Bill. "I know how we can get him:
Parallax! Shucks, it'll be easy! Just leave it to me."
"Looks as though some kind of Napoleonic strategy were going to be pulled off," asserted Professor Gray, laughing. "But, boys, keep in mind that Mr. Hooper, while a rough-and-ready old chap, with a big fortune made in cattle dealing, is really an uncut diamond; a fine old fellow at heart, as you will see."
CHAPTER XI
ENGINEERING
Two busy days followed during which Bill and Gus went to the city with Professor Gray to purchase materials in full for the power plant. They also had cement, reinforcing iron, lumber for forms and a small tool house hauled out to the power site and they drove the first stakes to show the position of wheel and pipe line. Mr. Hooper did not put in an appearance.
On the third morning the Professor bade the boys good-by, exacting the promise that they would write frequently of their progress. They had privately formed an engineering company with Professor Gray as president, Gus as vice-president, which was largely honorary, and Bill as general manager and secretary. Advance payments necessary for extra labor and their own liberal wages were deposited at the Fairview Bank by Professor Gray and the boys were given a drawing account thereon, with a simple expense book to keep.
That afternoon, dressed in new overalls and blouses, with a big, good-natured colored man to help with the laboring work, the boys were early on the job, at first making a cement mixing box; then Bill drove the center stake thirty feet below where the dam was to be placed and from which, using a long cord, the curve of the structure twenty-nine feet wide, was laid out upstream.
At the spot chosen the rock-bound hillsides rose almost perpendicularly from the narrow level ground that was little above the bed of the stream; it was the narrowest spot between the banks. George, the colored fellow, was set to work digging into one bank for an end foundation; the other bank held a giant boulder.
The boys were giving such close attention to their labors that they did not see observers on the hilltop. Presently the gruff voice that they had heard before hailed them from close by and they looked up to see Mr. Hooper and the slim youth approaching. The boys had heard that this Thaddeus was the old man's nephew and that he called the Hooper mansion his home.
"What you drivin' that there stake down there for? Up here's where the
Perfesser said the dam was to set," Mr. Hooper demanded.
"Yes, right here," Bill replied. "But it is to be curved upstream and that stake is our center."
"What's the idea of curvin' it?"
"So that it will be stronger and withstand the pressure. You can't break an arch, you know, and to push this out the hills would have to spread apart."
"I kind o' see." The old man was thoughtful and looked on silently while the dam breast stakes were being driven every three feet at the end of a stretched cord, the other end pivoting on the center stake below, this giving the required curve.
"How deep you goin' into that hill? Seems like the water can't git round it now." Mr. Hooper, at a word from Thad, seemed inclined to criticize.
"We must get a firm end, preferably against rock," Bill explained.
"Shucks! Reckon the clay ain't goin' to give none. How much fall you goin' to git on that Pullet wheel?"
"Pelton wheel. About eighty feet, Professor Gray figured it roughly.
We'll take it later exactly."
"Kin you improve on the Perfesser?"
"No, but he made only a rough calculation. We'll take it both by levels and by triangulation, using an old sextant of the Professor's. It isn't a diff——"
"What's try-angleation?" Mr. Hooper was becoming interested.
"The method of reading angles of different degrees and in that way getting heights and distances. That's the way they measure mountains that can't be climbed and tell the distance of stars."
"Shucks, young feller! I don't reckon anybody kin tell the distance o' the stars; they only put up a bluff on that. They ain't no ackshall way o' gittin' distance onless you lay a tape measure, er somethin' like it on the ground. These here surveyors all does it; I had 'em go round my place."
Bill smiled and shook his head. "I guess you just haven't given it any consideration. There are lots of easier and better ways. Triangulation. Now, for instance, suppose an army comes to a wide river and wants to get across. They can't send anybody over to stretch a line; there may be enemy sharp-shooters that would get them and it is too wide, anyway. But they must know how many pontoon boats and how much flooring plank they must have to bridge it and so they sight a tree or a rock on the other shore and take the distance across by triangulation. Or suppose—"
"Never heard of it. Why wouldn't surveyors git from here to yan that a-way, 'stead o' usin' chains? Could you——?"
"Chaining it is a little more accurate, where they have a lot of curves and angles and the view is cut off by woods and hills. Yes, we can work triangulation; we could tell the distance from the hilltop to your house if we could see it and we had the time."
"Bunk! Don't let 'em bluff you that a-way, Uncle. Make 'em prove it."
Thad showed his open hostility thus.
Gus dropped his shovel and came from the creekside where he had begun to dig alongside of the stakes for the foundation. He was visibly and, for him, strangely excited as he walked up to Thad.
"See here, fellow, Bill can do it and if there is anything in it we will do it, too! You are pretty blamed ignorant!"
Mr. Hooper threw back his head and let out a roar of mirth. "Well, I reckon that hits me, too. An' I reckon it might be true in a lot o' things. But Thad an' me, we kind o' doubt this."
"We sure do. I'd bet five dollars you couldn't tell it within half a mile an' it ain't much more than that."
"I'll take your bet and dare you to hold to it," said Gus.
"Bet 'em, Thad; bet 'em! I'll stake you."
"Oh, we don't want your money; betting doesn't get anywhere and it isn't just square, anyway." Bill was smilingly endeavoring to restore good feeling. "Now, Mr. Hooper, we're not fixed to make a triangulation measurement to-day, but——"
"Not fixed? Of course not. Begins with excuses," sneered Thad.
"But to-morrow we'll bring out Professor Gray's transit and show you the way it's done."
"Oh, yes, Uncle; they'll show us—to-morrow, or next day, or next week.
Bunk!" Thad was plainly trying to be offensive.
"You'll grin on the other side of your hatchet face, fellow, when we do show you," said Gus.
"Now, Gus, cut out the scrapping. You can't blame him, nor Mr. Hooper, for doubting it if they've never looked into the matter. We can bring the transit out this afternoon for taking the levels. Be here after dinner, Mr. Hooper, if you can."
"I'll be here, lads," said the ex-cattle-dealer. "An' I reckon my nephew'll come along, too."
CHAPTER XII
DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT
Mr. Hooper, his nephew, his daughter and another girl, fat and dumpy, were at the power site before two o'clock, and without more ado Bill asked Gus to bring the transit to the comparatively level field on top of the hill.
"Now, Mr. Hooper, please don't think we're doing this in a spirit of idle controversy; we only want to show you something interesting."
"That's all right, lad; an' I ain't above learnin', old as I am. But
Thad here, he's different." Mr. Hooper gave Bill and Gus a long wink.
"Thad, he don't reckon he can be learned a thing, an' he's so blame
sure—say, Thad, how 'bout that bet?"
"We don't want to bet anything; that only—" began Bill, but Gus was less pacific.
"Put up, or shut up," he said, drawing a borrowed five dollar note out of his pocket and glaring at Thad. The slim youth did not respond.
"He's afraid to bet," jeered the daughter. "Hasn't got the nerve, or the money."
"I ain't afraid to bet." Thad brought forth a like amount in bills. "Uncle'll hold the stakes. You got to tell how far it is from here to the house without ever stepping the distance."
"We'll make a more simple demonstration than that," Bill declared. "It'll be the same thing and take less time and effort. Mr. Hooper, take some object out there in the field; something that we can see; anything."
"Here, Gracie, you take a stake there an' go out yan an' stick it up.
Keep a-goin' till I holler."
Both girls carried out these directions, the fat one falling down a couple of times, tripped by the long grass and getting up shaking with laughter. The boys were to learn that she was a chum of Grace Hooper, that her name was Sophronia Doyle, though commonly nicknamed "Skeets."
The stake was placed. Bill drove another at his feet, set the transit over it, peeped through it both ways and at his direction, after stretching the steel tape, Gus drove a third stake exactly sixty feet from the transit at an angle of ninety degrees from a line to the field stake.
"Now, folks," explained Bill, "the stake out yonder is A, this one is B and the one at the other end of the sixty-foot base line is C. Please remember that."
The transit was then placed exactly over the stake C and, peeping again, Bill found the angle from the base line to the stake B and the line to stake A to be 78 degrees. Thereupon Gus produced a long board, held up one end and rested the other on a stake, while Bill went to work with a six-foot rule, a straight edge and a draughtsman's degree scale. Bill elucidated:
"Now, then, to get out of figuring, which is always hard to understand, we'll just lay the triangulation out by scale, which is easily understood. One-eighth of an inch equals one foot. This point is stake B and the base line to C is this line at right angles, or square across the board. C stake is 7-1/2 inches from B which is equal to sixty feet on the scale, that is sixty one-eighth inches. Now, this line, parallel to the edge of the board, is the exact direction of your stake A. Do you all follow that?
"The direction to your stake was 78 degrees from the base line at C. This degree scale will give us that." Bill carefully centered the latter instrument, sharpened his pencil and marked the angle; then placing the straight edge on the point C and the degree mark he extended the line until it crossed the other outward line. At this crossing he marked a letter A and turned to his auditors.
"This is your stake out yonder. The rule shows it to be a little over 34-5/8 inches from the base line at B. That is, by the scale, a few inches over 277 feet and that is the distance from here to where Grace stuck it into the ground. Our hundred-foot steel tape line is at your service, Mr. Hooper."
Mr. Hooper merely glanced at Bill. He took up the tape line and spoke to his nephew. "Git a holt o' this thing, Thad, an' let's see if—"
Grace interrupted him. "No, Dad; never let Thad do it! He'd make some mistake accidentally on purpose. I'll help you."
There was utter silence from all while Grace carried out the end of the tape and placed her sticks, Mr. Hooper following after. Skeets borrowed a pencil and a bit of paper from Gus and went along with Grace to keep tally, but she dropped the pencil in the grass, stepped on and broke it, was suffused with embarrassment and before she could really become useful, the father and daughter had made the count mentally and they came back to the base line, still without saying a word, a glad smile on the girl's face and something between wonder and surprise on the old man's features.
Still without a word Mr. Hooper came straight to Bill, thrust out his big hand to grasp that of the smiling boy and in the other hand was held the bills of the wager, which he extended toward Gus.
"Yours, lad," he said. "We made the distance two hundred and seventy-eight foot. I reckon you git the money."
Thad stood for a moment, nonplussed, a scowl on his face. Suddenly he recovered.
"Hold on! That's more than they said it was. The money's mine."
"Shucks, you dumb fool! Maybe a couple o' inches. I reckon we made the mistake, fer we wasn't careful. It gits me they was that near it. The cash is his'n."
Gus took the bills, thrust his own into his pocket again and handed the two dollar note and the three ones to Skeets.
"Please give them to him for me," indicating Thad, "I don't want his money."
"Not I," said the fat girl; "it isn't my funeral. Let him do the weeping and you take and give them to the poor."
Gus offered them to Grace, who also refused, shaking her head. Bill took the bills, and, limping over to Thad, handed him his wager. "You mustn't feel sore at us," counseled the youthful engineer. "This was only along the lines of experiment and—and fun."
But though Bill meant this in the kindliest spirit of comradeship, the boy sensed a feeling of extreme animosity that he was at a loss to account for. Bill backed off, further speech toward conciliation becoming as lame as his leg. The others witnessed this and Grace said, quite heatedly:
"Oh, you can't make a silk purse out of a pig's ear. Thad's an incurable grouch," at which Skeets laughed till she shook, and Mr. Hooper nodded his head.
"Lad," he said, "you're a wonder an' I ain't got no more to say ag'in' your doin' this work here. Go ahead with it your own way. But this I am abossin': to-morrow's half day, I reckon, so both o' you come over to the house nigh 'long about noon an' set at dinner with us. You're more'n welcome."
CHAPTER XIII
COUNTER INFLUENCES
Thereafter, having been fully convinced by the demonstration and fully assured of the precise accuracy in the work on the power plant, Mr. Hooper treated the boys with the utmost consideration and confidence. The owner of the great estate came down to see them every day and chatted as familiarly as though he had been a lifelong crony of their own age. From time to time the boys were taken to dinner at the big house; they were given access to the library, and they found some time for social and sportive pastimes with the young folks whom Grace invited to her home.
Throughout all this Bill shone as an entertainer, a mental uplift that was really welcome, so spontaneous and keen were his talks and comments on people and things. Gus, though having little practice, held his own at tennis and golf; in swimming races and other impromptu sports he greatly excelled; and when a young fellow who bore the reputation of an all-round athlete came for the week-end from the city, Gus put on the gloves with him and punched the newcomer all over an imaginary ring on the lawn to the delight of Mr. Hooper, Grace and Skeets, as well as the admiring Bill.
Throughout all this, also, there was an element of ill feeling, an often open expression of antagonism toward the boys, which probably the other guests all tensed unpleasantly, but which the contented, jovial host and his impetuous and volatile daughter hardly recognized or thought of. Thaddeus, the thin-faced, pale, stoop-shouldered, indolent, cigarette-smoking nephew, though often treated with slight courtesy, continually pushed himself to the front, compelling consideration apparently for the sole purpose of exerting a counter-influence upon the popularity of Bill and Gus, especially the latter. The youth even went so far at times as to attempt an interference in the power-plant work, declaring that it did not proceed rapidly enough and that certain methods were at fault, to all of which Mr. Hooper turned a deaf ear.
There was nothing else but open warfare between Grace and Thad, Skeets also echoing the daughter's hostility, while the nephew easily pretended to ignore it, or to regard the sharp words aimed at him as jokes. He treated Skeets with as much contempt as her jovial manner permitted, but now and then it could be seen that his pale eyes glared at Grace's back in a way that seemed almost murderous.
One day Gus and George, the colored man, were working at the far end of the curved dam breast, the stone work having risen to four feet in height. Bill was stooping to inspect the cement on the near end and the view of the hill was cut off. Presently voices came to him, mostly a sort of good-natured protest in monosyllables; then Thad's tones, low enough to keep Gus from hearing.
"I tell you, Uncle, they're putting it over on you. It ain't any of my business, but I hate to see you having your leg pulled."
"'Taint!" was the brief answer.
"Well, if you don't want to think so; but I know it. Look at this dam: not over two feet thick and expected to hold tons of water. Wait till a flood hits it. Will it go out like a stack of cards, or won't it? And they're not using enough cement; one-fourth only with the sand."
"Grouting, broken stones," growled Mr. Hooper.
"Not sufficient, as you'll see. And does anybody want to say that a two-inch pipe is going to run a water wheel with force enough to turn a generator that will drive thirty or forty lights? Bosh!"
"They ought to know."
"You think they do, but have you any proof of it? What they don't know would fill a libra—"
"How 'bout that there triang—what you call it? They knew that."
"Oh, just a draughtsman's smart trick; used to catch people. I'm talking about things that are practical. You'll see. I'll bet you these blamed fools are going to strike a snag one of these days, or they'll leave things so that there'll be a fall-down. But what need they care after they get their money?"
Bill heard footsteps retreating and dying away; Mr. Hooper went over to
Gus and, with evident hesitation, asked:
"Do you reckon you're makin' the stone work thick enough? It does look most terrible weak."
"Sure, Mr. Hooper. Bill'll explain that to you. Professor Gray and he worked out the exact resistance and the pressure."
And then Bill limped over; he had left his crutch on the hillside, and he said, half laughing:
"This wall, Mr. Hooper, can't give way, even if it had the ocean behind it, unless the stone and cement were mashed and crumbled by pressure. The only thing that could break it would be about two days' hammering with a sledge, or a big charge of blasting powder, and even that couldn't do a great deal of damage."
"All right, me lad; you ought to know an' I believe you."
Mr. Hooper's genial good humor returned to him immediately; it was evident that he was from time to time unpleasantly influenced by the soft and ready tongue of his nephew. The old gentleman turned toward home and disappeared; a short time afterward Thad came and stood near where Gus was working, but he said nothing, nor did Gus address him. Then the slim youth also departed and hardly half an hour elapsed before down the hill came Grace and Skeets, the latter stumbling several times, nearly pitching headlong and yet most mirthful over her own near misfortune; but little Miss Hooper seemed unusually serious-minded. A lively exchange of jests and jolly banter commenced between Skeets and Gus, who could use his tongue if forced to; but presently Grace left her laughing chum and came over to where Bill had resumed his inspection.
"They can't hear us, can they?" she queried, glancing back at the others.
"Why, I expect not," Bill replied, surprised and mystified.
"If I say something to you, real confidentially, you won't give me away, will you? Honest, for sure?"
"Honest, I won't; cross my heart; wish I may die; snake's tongue; butcher knife bloody!"
"That ought to do, and anybody with any sense would believe you, anyway.
But, then, it will be a big temptation for you—"
"Resistance is my nickname; you may trust me."
"Well, then, in some way," said the girl, dropping her voice still lower, "you are going to find that this work here won't be—it won't go—not just as you expect it to; it—it won't be just plain sailing as it ought to be and would be if you were let alone. There are things," she put a forceful accent on the last word, "that will interfere—oh, sometimes dreadfully, maybe, and I felt that I must tell you, but—"
Bill, wondering, glanced up at her; she stood with her pretty face turned away, a troubled look in her bright eyes, the usually smiling lips compressed with determination. The boy's quick wits began to fathom the drift of her intention and the cause thereof; he must know more to determine her precise attitude.
"I must believe that you mean this in real kindness and friendliness toward Gus and me."
"Of course I do; else I would not have told you a thing," Grace said, blushing a little.
"I think it must be something real and that you know. This thing, then, as you call it, is more likely a person—some person who is working against us. You mean that; don't you?"
"Please don't ask me too much. I think you're very quick and intelligent and that you'll find out and be on your guard."
"I think I understand. Naturally you must feel a certain loyalty toward a relation, or at least if not just that, toward one who has your father's good will. Gus and I surely appreciate your warning; you'll want me to tell him, of course."
"I don't know. Gus is not so cool-headed as you are; I was afraid he might—"
"Trust Gus. He and I work together in everything. And I do thank you,
Grace, more than I can express. Well keep our eyes open."
CHAPTER XIV
FURTHER OPPOSITION
The dam was built, the flood gate in place, the pipe valve set for further extension of the line down the little valley; and as the pipe had all come cut and threaded, Bill and George were working with wrenches and white lead to get the sections tightly jointed against the pressure that would result. Gus, the carpenter, was laying out the framing of heavy timbers reinforced with long bolts and set in cement on which the Pelton wheel was to be mounted.
Several days were thus spent; the water was pouring over the spillway of the dam and it was with satisfaction that the boys found, after an inspection one quitting hour, that the wall, five feet high, was not leaking a drop.
That night Gus came over to Bill's home and the two went over the plans until late; then Gus chatted awhile on the steps, Bill standing in the doorway. Suddenly, from over toward the northeast, in the direction of the upper tract of the Hooper estate, there was a flash in the sky and a dull reverberation like a very distant or muffled blast. Bill was talking and hardly noticed it, but Gus had been looking in that direction and, calling Bill's attention, wondered as to the cause of the odd occurrence.
In the morning, as the boys descended the hill, George, who was always on hand half an hour ahead of time, came up to meet them and was plainly excited.
"Mist' Bill an' Gus, de dam's done busted a'ready an' de water's jes' a-pourin' through t' beat ol' Noah's flood! Whut you 'low was de because o' dis givin' way?"
"By cracky, Bill!" was Gus' comment as they stood looking at the break which seemed to involve a yard square of the base and cracks, as though from a shock. "You know and I know that the water didn't push this out. How about that flash and bang we heard last night?"
"I can't see how the water could have done it," said Bill, who evidently had more talent for construction than for determining destruction.
"There's something behind this that I don't like and I'm going to find out about it," said Gus, his usually quiet demeanor entirely gone. "You ought to be able," he continued, "to put two and four together. How about that warning Grace gave you? And how did she know anything out of which to give it? And why wouldn't she give any names?"
"Well, I have wondered; I thought I saw why," Bill said.
"Of course you see why, old scout. And if you'll leave it to me, you'll know why and all the how and the what of it, too." Gus was never boastful; now he was merely determined.
The boys opened the flood gate and after the water no longer flowed through the break, they began a closer examination that surprised them. Mr. Hooper, Thad, Grace and Skeets descended the hill.
Bill, after greetings, merely pointed to the break. Mr. Hooper started
to say something about the structure's being too weak; Thad laughed, and
Grace, looking daggers at him, turned away and pulled Skeets with her.
Gus, gazing at Thad, addressed Mr. Hooper.
"Yes, too weak to stand the force of an explosion. It wasn't the water pressure. Mr. Hooper; you'll notice that the stones there are forced in against the water; not out with it. And the cracks—they're further evidence. We heard the explosion about eleven o'clock; saw the light of the flash, too."
"Shucks! You reckon that's so? Got any notion who it was that done it?"
"Yes, sir; got a big notion who it was; but we won't say till we get it on him for sure. And then's it's going to be a sorry day for him."
Gus was still gazing straight at Thad and that youth, first attempting to ignore this scrutiny and then trying to match it, at last grew restless and turned away. Mr. Hooper also had his eyes on Thad; the old gentleman looked much troubled. He raised his voice loud enough for Thad to hear as he walked off:
"We'll git a watchman an' put him on the job,—that's what we'll do!
They ain't goin' to be any more o' this sort o' thing."
And Bill chimed in: "Good idea. There's George, Mr. Hooper; we're nearly through with him and we've been wondering what to put him at, for we'd be sorry to lose him."
So it was arranged then and there, much to the satisfaction of everyone, especially the old darkey, and Mr. Hooper, saying nothing more but looking as though there were a death in his family, started away toward home.
CHAPTER XV
MR. EDDY'S SON'S SONS
It took but a short time to repair the break; before many other days had passed the Pelton wheel, a direct action turbine, was going at a tremendous rate, driven by a nozzled stream from the pipe. It was necessary to belt it down from a small to a larger pulley to run the generator at a slower speed, which was 1200 a minute. Then came the boxing in, the wiring to the house, and the making of connections with the wiring to the house after the town company's service was dispensed with, and it was a proud moment when Gus turned on the first bulb and got a full and brilliant glare.
Mr. Hooper clasped the hands of both boys, compelled them to spend the evening, ordered special refreshments for the occasion, told Grace to invite a lot of the young folks and when, at dusk all the lights of the house went on with an illumination that fairly startled the guests, the host proposed a cheer for the boys which found an eager and unanimous response. Mr. Hooper attempted to make a speech, with his matronly and contented wife laughing and making sly digs at his effort, and his daughter encouraging him.
"Now, young fellers," he began, "these boys—uh, Mister Bill Brown an' Mister 'Gustus Grier,—I says to them,—in the first place, I says: 'Perfesser, these here kids don't know enough to build a chicken coop,' I says, an' Perfesser Gray he says to me, he says, he would back them fellers to build a battleship or tunnel through to Chiny, he says. So I says: 'You kids kin go ahead,' I says, an' these blame boys they went ahead an' shucks! you all see what they, Bill an' Gus, has done. You fellers has got to have a lot o' credit an' you are goin' to git it!
"Now, my wife she don't think I'm any good at makin' a speech an 'I ain't, but I'm a-makin' it jes' the same fer these boys, Bill an' Gus, b'jinks! They got to git credit fer what they done, jes' two kids doin' a reg'lar man's job. An' I reckon that not even that feller Eddy's son, that there chap they call the 'Wizard of Menlo Park,' I reckon he couldn't 'lectrocute nothin' no better'n these here boys, Bill an' Gus, has lighted this here domycile. An'—oh, you kin laugh, Ma Hooper, b'jinks, but I reckon you're as proud o' these here young Eddy's son's sons as I be. Now, Mister Bill an' Mister Gus, you kin bet all these folks'd like to have a few words. Now, as they say in prayer meetin', 'Mister Bill Brown'll lead us in a speech.' Hooray!"
Bill seized his crutch, got it carefully under his arm and arose. He was not just a rattle-box, a mere word slinger, for he always had something to say worth listening to; talking to a crowd was no great task for him and he had a genius for verbal expression.
"I hope my partner in mechanical effort and now in misery will let me speak for him, too, for he couldn't get up here and say a word if you'd promise him the moon for a watch charm. Our host, Mr. Hooper, would have given us enough credit if he had just stated that we were two persevering ginks, bent on making the best of a good chance and using, perhaps with some judgment, the directions of our superior, Professor Gray, along with some of our own ideas that fitted, in. But to compare us and our small job here, which was pretty well all mapped out for us, to the wonderful endeavors of Thomas Alva Edison is more than even our combined conceit can stand for. If we deserved such praise, even in the smallest way, you'd see us with our chests swelled out so far that we'd look like a couple of garden toads.
"Edison! Mr. Hooper, did you, even in your intended kindness in flattering Gus and myself, really stop to think what it could mean to compare us with that wonderful man? I know you could not mean to belittle him, but you certainly gave us an honor far beyond what any other man in the world, regarding electrical and mechanical things, could deserve. If we could hope to do a hundredth part of the great things Edison has done, it would, as Professor Gray says, indeed make life worth living.
"But we thank you, Mr. Hooper, for your kind words and for inviting all these good friends and our classmates, and we thank you and good Mrs. Hooper for this bully spread and everything!"
Bill started to sit down amidst a hearty hand-clapping, but Cora Siebold waved her hand for silence and demanded:
"Tell us more about Edison, Billy, as you did after the talk over the radio! You see, we missed the last of it and I'll bet we'd all like to hear more—"
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Sure!" "Me, too!" "Go on, Billy!" came from Dot Myers, Skeets, Grace Hooper, Ted Bissell and Gus. In her enthusiastic efforts at showing an abundant appreciation, the fat girl wriggled too far out on the edge of her chair, which tilted and slid out from under her, causing sufficient hilarious diversion for Bill to take a sneak out of the room. When Cora and Grace captured and brought him back, the keen edge of the idea had worn off enough for him to dodge the issue.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do," he said, and it will be better than anything we can think of just between us here. You all read, didn't you, that the lectures were to be repeated by request in two months after the last talk? We didn't hear it because Professor went away, and now three weeks of the time have gone by. But I'll tell you what Gus and I are going to do: we're going to build a radio receiver and get it done in time to get those talks on Edison all over again."
"Really?"
"Do you think you can do it?"
"If Billy says he can, why, the—"
"Oh, you Edison's son!" This from the irrepressible Ted.
"Go to it, Bill!"
"Can we all listen in?"
"Why, of course," said Bill, replying to the last question. "Everybody'll be invited and there will be a horn. But don't forget this: We've only got a little over four weeks to do it and it's some job! So, if you're disappointed—"
"We won't be."
"No; Bill'll get there."
"Hurrah for old Bill!"
"Say, people, enough of this. I'm no candidate for President of the
United States, and remember that Gus is in this, too, as much as I am."
"Hurrah for Gus!" This was a general shout.
Gus turned and ran.
CHAPTER XVI
THE DOUBTERS
The party was on the point of breaking up, with much laughter over the embarrassment of poor Gus, when Skeets unexpectedly furnished further entertainment. She had paused to lean comfortably against a center table, but its easy rolling casters objected to her weight, rolled away hastily and deposited her without warning on the floor. Ted, who gallantly helped her to her feet, remarked, with a grunt due to extreme effort, that she really might as well stand up or enlist the entire four legs of a chair to support her.
Bill, about to take leave of the host and hostess, felt a slight jerk at his sleeve and looking round was surprised to find Thad at his elbow. The youth said in a low voice:
"Want to see you out yonder among the trees. Give the rest the slip. Got a pipe of an idea."
Bill nodded, wondering much. A moment later Mr. Hooper was repeating that he was proud of the work done by the boys and glad that he had trusted them. Then he added:
"But say, young feller, much as I believe in you and Gus, seein' your smartness, I got to doubt all that there bunk you give them young people 'bout that there what you call radier. I been borned a long time—goin' on to seventy year now,—an' I seen all sorts of contraptions like reapers an' binders, ridin' plows, typewritin'-machines, telephones, phonygraphs, flyin'-machines, submarines an' all such, but b'jinks, I ain't a-believin' that nobody kin hear jes' common talk through the air without no wires. An' hundreds o' miles! 'Tain't natch'all an' 'taint possible now, is it?"
"Why, yes, Mr. Hooper; it's both poss—"
"Come on, Billy! Good-night, Mr. Hooper and Mrs. Hooper. We all had a dandy time." And Bill was led away. But he was able, by hanging back a little, to whisper to Gus that he was on the track of something from Thad,—for Bill could only think that the young man would make a confession or commit himself in some way.
"See you in the morning," he added and turned back.
Thad was waiting and called to Bill from his seat on a bench beneath the shade of a big maple. The fellow plunged at once into his subject, evidently holding the notion that youth in general possesses a shady sense of honor.
"See here, Brown. I think I get you and I believe you've got wit enough to get Uncle Hooper. Did he say anything to you as you came out about being shy on this radio business?"
Bill nodded.
"Say, he don't believe it's any more possible than a horse car can turn into a buzzard! Fact! He told me you fellows might fool him on a lot of things and that you were awful smart for kids, but he'd be hanged for a quarter of beef if you could make him swallow this bunk about talking through the air. You know the way he talks."
"I think he can and will be convinced," said Bill, "and you can't blame him for his notion, for he has never chanced to inquire about radio and I expect he doesn't read that department in the paper. If he meets a plain statement about radio broadcasting or receiving, it either makes no impression on him, or he regards it as a sort of joke. But, anyway, what of it?"
"Why, just this and you ought to catch on to it without being told: Unk's a stubborn old rat and he hasn't really a grain of sense, in spite of all the money he made. All you've got to do is to egg him on as if you thought it might be a little uncertain and then sort o' dare to make a big bet with him. I'll get busy and tell him that this radio business is the biggest kind of an expert job and that you fellows are blamed doubtful about it. Then, when you get your set working and let Unk listen in, he'll pay up and we'll divide the money. See? Easy as pie. Or we might work it another way: I'll make the bet with him and you fellows let on to fall down. Or we might—"
"Well, I've listened to your schemes," said Bill, "and I'm going to say this about them: I think you are the dirtiest, meanest skunk I ever ran across. You—"
"Say, now, what's the matter?"
"You're a guest under your uncle's roof; eating his grub, accepting his hospitality, pretending to be his friend—"
"Aw, cut that out, now! You needn't let on you're so awful fine."
"And then deliberately trying to hatch a scheme to rob him! Of all the rotten, contemptible—" Unable to voice his righteous indignation, Bill clenched his fist and struck Thad square in the eye.
Thad had risen and was standing in front of Bill, trembling with rage as impotent as though he were little and lame, leaning, like Bill, on the crutch a less valiant cripple would have used instead of his bare fist.
With a look of fiendish hatred, instead of returning blow for blow, Thad made a sudden grab and tore Bill's crutch out of the hand which had felt no impulse to use it in defense against his able-bodied antagonist.
"Now, you blow to Uncle and I'll break this crutch!"
Strange, isn't it, how we often are reminded of funny things even in the midst of danger? Bill, a cripple and unable to move about with the agility needed to fend off a cowardly attack by this miserable piker, showed the stuff he was made of when he burst out laughing, for he was reminded by this threat of that old yarn about a softy's threatening to break the umbrella of his rival found in the vestibule of his girl's house, then going out and praying for rain!
Thad, astonished at Bill's sudden mirth, held the crutch mid-air, and demanded with a malignant leer:
"Huh! Laugh, will you?"
"Go ahead and break it, but it won't be a circumstance to what I'll do to you. I can imagine your uncle—"
"So? Listen, you pusillanimous, knock-kneed shrimp? I'm going to mash your jaw so you'll never wag it again! And right now, too, you—"
Possibly there was as much determination back of this as any evil intent, but it also was doomed to failure. There was a quick step from the deeper shadows and a figure loomed suddenly in front of Thad who, with uplifted crutch, was still glaring at Bill. Only two words were spoken, a "You, huh?" from the larger chap; then a quick tackle, a short straining scuffle, and Thad was thrown so violently sidewise and hurtled against the bench from which Bill had just risen, that it and Thad went over on the ground together. The bench and the lad seemed to lie there equally helpless. Gus picked up the crutch and handed it to his chum.
"Let's go. He won't be able to get up till we've gone."
But as they passed out from among the shadows there followed them a threat which seemed to be bursting with the hatred of a demon:
"Oh, I'll get even with you two little devils. I'll blow you to—"
The two boys looked at each other and only laughed.
"Notice his right eye when you see him again," chuckled Bill.
CHAPTER XVII
THE UNEXPECTED
"Where did you come from, Gus?" Bill asked, still inclined to laugh.
"The road. Slipped away from the others for I was wondering whether you might not get into trouble. Couldn't imagine that chump would spring anything that wouldn't make you mad, and I knew you'd talk back. So I did the gumshoe."
"Well, I suppose he would have made it quite interesting for me and I am eternally grateful to you. If it weren't for you, Gus, I guess, I'd have a hard time in—"
"By cracky, if it weren't for you, old scout, where would I be? Nowhere, or anywhere, but never somewhere."
"That sounds to me something like what Professor Gray calls a paradox," laughed Bill.
"I don't suppose you're going to peach on Thad," Gus offered.
"No; but wouldn't I like to? It's a rotten shame to have that lowdown scamp under Mr. Hooper's roof. It's a wonder Grace doesn't give him away; she must know what a piker he is."
"Bill, it's really none of our business," Gus said. "Well, see you in the morning early."
The boys wished once more to go over carefully all the completed details of the water power plant; they had left the Pelton wheel flying around with that hissing blow of the water on the paddles and the splashing which made Bill think of a circular log saw in buckwheat-cake batter. The generator, when thrown in gear, had been running as smoothly as a spinning top; there were no leaks in the pipe or the dam. But now they found water trickling from a joint that showed the crushing marks of a sledge, the end of the nozzle smashed so that only enough of the stream struck the wheel to turn it, and there was evidence of sand in the generator bearings.
Then appeared George, with an expression of mingled sorrow, shame, wonder and injured pride on his big ebony features, his eyes rolling about like those of a dying calf. At first he was mute.
"Know anything about this business, George?" asked Bill.
"Don't know a thing but what Ah does know an' dat's a plenty. What's happened here?"
"The plant has been damaged; that's all."
"Damage? When? Las' night, close on t' mawnin'? Well, suh, Ah 'low that there ghos' done it."
"Ghost? What—where was any ghost?"
"Right yer at de tool house. Come walkin' roun' de corner fo' Ah could grab up man stick an' Ah jes' lef' de place."
"What? Ran away and from your duty? You were put here to guard the plant; not to let any old—"
"Didn't 'low t' guard it 'gainst no ghos'es. Dey don' count in de contrac'. Folks is one thing an' ghos'es—"
"Ghosts! Bosh! There's no such thing as a ghost! If you had swung your club at the silly thing you'd have knocked over some dub of a man that we could pretty well describe right now, and saved us a heap of trouble and expense—and you'd have kept your job!" Bill was disgusted and angry.
"Lawsee! Ah ain't gwine lose mah job jes' fo' dodgin' a ghos', is I?"
"What did this fellow look like?" asked Gus.
"Ah nevah could tell 'bout it; didn't take no time for' t' look sharp.
Ah wuz on'y jes' leavin'."
"Now, see here, George," said Bill, his native gentleness dominating, "if you'll promise to say nothing about this, keep on the job and grab the next ghost, we'll let you stay on. And we'll make an awful good guess when we tell you that you'll find the ghost is Mr. Hooper's nephew. If you do grab him, George, and lock him in the tool house, we'll see that you're very nicely rewarded,—a matter of cold cash. Are you on?"
"Ah shore is, an' Ah'll git him, fo' Ah reckon he's gwine come again. 'Tain't no fun tacklin' whut looks lak a ghos', but Ah reckon Ah'll make that smahty think he's real flesh an' blood fo' Ah gits through with him!"
The boys were two days making repairs, which time encroached upon their plan to get their promised radio receiver into action. Having no shop nor proper tools for finer work, they would be handicapped, for they had decided, because of the pleasure and satisfaction in so doing, to make many of the necessary parts that generally are purchased outright. Bill made the suggestion, on account of this delay, that they abandon their original plan, but Gus, ever hopeful, believed that something might turn up to carry out their first ideas.
The afternoon that they had everything in normal condition again, Mr. Hooper came down to see them; he knew nothing of the tampering with the work, but it became evident at once that his nephew had slyly and forcibly put it into his head that amateur radio construction was largely newspaper bunk, without any real foundation of fact. Thad may have had some new scheme, but at any rate the unlettered old man would swallow pretty nearly everything Thad said, even though he often repudiated Thad's acts. Again Mr. Hooper, Bill and Gus got on the subject of radio and the old gentleman repeated his convictions:
"I ain't sayin' you boys can't do wonders, an' I'm fer you all the time, but I'm not goin' t' b'lieve you kin do what's pretty nigh out o' reason. Listen to me, now, fer a minute: If you fellers kin rig up a machine to fetch old man Eddy's son's talk right here about two hundred an' fifty mile, I'll hand out to each o' you a good hundred dollars; yes, b'jinks. I'll make it a couple a hun—"
"No, Mr. Hooper, we value your friendship altogether too much to take your money and that's too much like a wager, anyway." Bill was most earnest. "But you must take our word for it that it can be done."
"Fetch old man Eddy's son's voice—!"
"Just that exactly—similar things have been done a-plenty. People are talking into the radio broadcasters and their voices are heard distinctly thousands of miles. But, Mr. Hooper, you wouldn't know Mr. Edison's voice if you heard it, would you?"
"N—no, can't say as how I would—but listen here. I do know a feller what works with him—they say he's close to the ol' man. Bill Medders. Knowed Bill when he was a little cack, knee-high to a grasshopper. They say he wrote a book about Eddy's son. I'd know Bill Medder's voice if I heard it in a b'iler factory."
Bill Brown could hardly repress a smile. "I guess you must mean William H. Meadowcroft. His 'Boys' Life of Edison' sure is a dandy book. I liked it best of all. Sometimes no one can see Mr. Edison for weeks at a time, when he's buried in one of his 'world-beaters.' But I reckon we can let you hear Mr. Meadowcroft's voice. He wrote me a pippin of a letter once about the Chief."
"All righty. I'll take Medders's. I know Bill, an' you can't fool me on that voice."
"Mr. Hooper, I'll tell you what," said the all-practical Bill eagerly. "This demonstration will be almost as interesting to you as it is to us, and you can help us out. We can get what little power we need from any power plant. But we want a shop most of all—a loft or attic with room enough to work in. We're going to get all the tools we need—"
"No. I'll get 'em fer you an' you kin have all that there room over the garage." (The old gentleman pronounced this word as though it rhymed with carriage.) "An' anything else you're a mind to have you kin have. Some old junk up there, I reckon," he went on. "You kin throw it out, er make use of it. An' now, let's see what you kin do!"
The boys were eager to acknowledge this liberal offer, and they expressed themselves in no measured terms. They would do better than make one receiver; they would make two and one would be installed in Mr. Hooper's library,—but of this they said nothing at first. Get busy they did, with a zeal and energy that overmatched even that given the power plant. That afternoon they moved into the new shop and were delighted with its wide space and abundant light. The next day they went to the city for tools and materials. Two days later a lathe, a grinder and a boring machine, driven by a small electric motor wired from the Hooper generator were fully installed, together with a workbench, vises, a complete tool box and a drawing board, with its instruments. No young laborers in the vineyard of electrical fruitage could ask for more.
"Isn't it dandy, Gus?" Bill exclaimed, surveying the place and the result of their labors in preparation. "If we can't do things here, it's only our fault. Now, then—"
"It is fine," said Gus, "and we're in luck, but somehow, I think we must be on our guard. I can't get my mind off ghosts and the damage over yonder. I'm going to take a sneak around there to-night again, along around midnight and a little after. I did last night; didn't tell you, for you had your mind all on this. George was on duty, challenged me, but I've got a hunch that he knows something he doesn't want to worry us about and thinks he can cope with."
CHAPTER XVIII
A BIT TRAGIC
"Hold up your hands, nigger!"
The voice was low and sepulchral, but either the ghostly apparition that uttered the command had slipped up on its vernacular, or it was the spirit of a bandit. Some demand of the kind was, however, urgently necessary, for George did not, as formerly, show a desire to flee; his belligerent attitude suggested fight and he was a husky specimen with a handy club. Even though he might have suffered a qualm at again beholding the white apparition in the moonlight, his determination to dare the spectre was bolstered by the voice and the manner of the command.
"Ah knows who yo' is an' Ah's gwine hol' yo' up! Yo' ain't no ghos'. Dis club'll knock de sure 'nough breff out'n yo'; then we'll see."
To Gus, on the hillside above the power plant, it looked very much as though this threat were going to be carried out. He had been quietly observing, under the light of a half moon, the ghostly visitation and even the advent of this individual before the white raiment had been donned some distance behind the tool house and unknown to the watchful George. All this had not surprised Gus, but he had been puzzled by the appearance on the hillside of another figure that kept behind the scant bushes much as Gus was doing, except that it was screened against being seen from below and evidently did not know of Gus's presence. Now, however, all attention was given to the altercation before the tool house, around which the ghost had come, evidently to be disappointed at not seeing George take to his heels.
Suddenly there was a shot. The reverberation among the hills seemed ominous, but not more so than the staggering back and sinking down of poor George. Gus saw the white figure stand for a moment, as though peering down at the victim of this murderous act; then it turned and fled straight up the hill and directly toward the one up there crouching and—waiting? Were they in collusion? Gus had but a moment to guess. Still crouching, unseen, though brave,—for Gus was courageous even sometimes to the point of being foolhardy in the rougher sports, or where danger threatened others,—he avoided now the almost certain fate of George, for the villain was still armed and desperate, no doubt. And Gus hoped that the arrest of the scamp would surely follow his meeting with the other observer.
But this safe and sane attitude of the watching Gus suffered a sudden change when, as the ascending ruffian fairly stumbled upon the other figure crouching on the hillside, a scream, unmistakably that of a female in dire distress, came to the ears of the witness. He could dimly see the two struggling together, the dark figure with the white. The next instant, forgetting all danger to himself, Gus lessened the distance by leaps and scrambles along the declivity and flung himself upon the assailant.
There was a short, sharp tussle; a second shot, but this time the weapon discharged its leaden pellet harmlessly. Then the ghost, taking advantage of the hillside, flung Gus aside and before the boy had time to leap upon his foeman again, the white figure, his habiliments torn off, had backed away and threatened Gus with the pistol. There was no mistaking the voice that uttered the threat:
"Keep off, or you'll get punctured! You needn't think anybody's going to get me. I'm going to vanish. If you try to follow me now, I'll kill you!"
This sounded desperate enough and Gus had reason to believe the fellow meant it. But in spite of that and driven by righteous anger, he would again have tackled the enemy had not the voice of Grace Hooper checked him:
"Oh, let him go; let him go!" she begged. "He'll shoot, and you—you must not be killed! No; you shall not!"
And then, as the rascal turned and fled over the brow of the hill, Gus turned to the girl, sitting on the ground.
"How did you come here—what—?"
"I knew something was going to happen, and I thought I might prevent it some way. Then he fired, and I saw how desperate he was,—and he shot—"
"Yes—we must do all we can for poor George, if anything can be done.
But are you hurt?"
"Not very much; he meant to hurt me. I dodged when he struck and only my shoulder may be—bruised."
"Then you should bathe it in hot water. Can I help you up? No, you must not go home alone—but I must see about poor George. I heard him groan."
"I'd better go down with you."
"It might be—too horrible—for a girl, you see. Better stay here."
Gus had extended his hand to give her a lift; she took it and came slowly to her feet; then suddenly crumpled up and lay unconscious before him, her face white against the dark sod, her arms outflung. Gus stared at her a few long seconds, as foolishly helpless as any boy could be. He told Bill afterward that he never felt so flabbergasted in his life. What to do he knew not, but he must try something, and do it quickly. Perhaps Grace had only fainted; should he go to George first? He might be dying—or dead! Then the thought came to him: "Women and children first."
Gus dashed down the hill, dipped his cap, cup fashion, into the water of the dam and fled up with it again, brimming full and spilling over. He was able to dash a considerable quantity of reviving water into the girl's face. With a gasp and a struggle she turned over, opened her eyes, sat up,—her physical powers returning in advance of her mental grasp.
"Oh, am I,—no, not dead? Please help me—up and home."
"Yes, I'll take you home in just a jiffy. Do you feel a little better?
Can you sit still here, please, till I see about George? Just a moment?"
Again the boy went down the hill, now toward the tool house; he was brave enough, but a sort of horror gripped him as he rounded the corner of the little shack. What, then, was his relief when he found the watchman on his feet, a bit uncertain about his balance and leaning against the door frame. It was evident from the way he held his club that he meant not to desert his post and that he believed his late assailant was returning. At sight of Gus, the colored man's relief showed in his drawn face.
"Mist' Gus! It's you, honey! My Lawd! Ah done been shot! By the ghos', Mist' Gus, whut ain't nothin' no mo'n dat low-down, no 'count nephew o' ol' Mist' Hooper's. Ah reckon Ah's gwine die, but Ah ain't yit—not ef he's comin' back!"
"Good boy, George! You're the stuff! But you're not going to die and he's not coming back. He lit out like a rabbit. Come now; we'll go to a doctor and then—"
"Reckon Ah can't do it. Got hit in de hip some'ers; makes mah leg total wuthless. You-all go on an' Ah'll git me some res' yere till mawnin'."
"And maybe bleed nearly to death! No, I'll be back for you in no time,—as soon as I get Miss Grace home. She's on the hill there. She came out to watch that cousin of hers. You hang on till I get back."
Grace tried to show her usual energy, but seemed nearly overcome by fatigue. She made no complaint, but presently Gus saw that she was crying, and that scared him. In his inexperience he could not know that it was only overwrought nerves. He felt he must make speed in carrying out his intentions to get help to George and put the authorities on the track of Thad. Gus could see but one thing to do properly and his natural diffidence was cast aside by his generous and kindly nature.
"Let me give you a lift, as I do Bill, sometimes," he said, and drew the girl's arm over his shoulder, supporting her with his other arm. In a second or two they were going on at a rather lively pace. In a few minutes they had reached the house. Grace entered and called loudly. Her father and mother appeared instantly in the hallway above. The girl, half way up the stairway, told of the incidents at the power plant and added:
"Thad boasted to me that he was going to give the boys a lot more trouble, and I watched and saw him leave the house. So I followed, hoping to stop him, and after he shot George he ran into me and was so angry that he struck me. I wish I had had a pistol! I would have—"
"Gracie, dear little girl! You mustn't wish to kill or wound anyone! Oh, are you hurt? Come, dear—"
"I'll be with you right off, me boy!" said Mr. Hooper to Gus, and presently they were in the library alone.
"Listen to me, lad. This nevvy o' mine is me dead sister's child, an' I swore t' her I'd do all I could fer him. His brother Bob, he's in the Navy, a decent lad; won't have nothin' to do with Thad. An' you can't blame him, fer Thad's a rapscallion. Smart, too, an' friendly enough to his old uncle. But now, though, I'm done with him. I'm fer lettin' him slide, not wantin' to put the law on him. I'll take care o' George. He shall have the best doctor in the country, an' I'll keep him an' his wife in comfort, but I don't want Thaddeus to be arrested. Now I reckon he's gone an' so let luck take him—good, bad, er indifferent. Won't you let him hit his own trail, foot-loose?"
"I'd like to see him arrested and jailed," said Gus, "but for you and because of what you'll do for George and your being so good to Bill and me, I'll keep mum on it."
"Good, me lad. An' now you git back to George an' tell him to keep Thad's name out of it. I'll 'phone fer 'Doc' Little and 'Doc' Yardley, an' have an ambulance sent fer the poor feller. Then you can tell his wife. It means very little sleep fer you this night, but you can lay abed late."
Gus went away upon these duties, but with a heavy heart; he felt that Mr. Hooper, because of the very gentleness of the man was defeating justice, and though he had been nearly forced to give his promise, he felt that he must keep it.