THE FLUSH OF VICTORY.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVII, Issue 10243, 4 September 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE FLUSH OF VICTORY.

(By Roland Ashford Phillips.)

Very silent, very thoughtful. T)pko stood in the deepening twilight. From the high, flat point of rock that cropped out beside the half-completed dam he saw the vast sagebrush plains roll away to the dim blue horizon. Behind him the noise and rumble of his masterpiece was fast sinking into temporary oblivion. Like some gaunt, sleepless monster the dam reared its bulk aloft between the frowning walls of the c:'ro •. And already through the gloom 1.! ■ '•: ; the countless red eyes, far : ..v.--fires of the vast work-army. "A month," he 1.i.1 aloud, his gaze shiftfng froi.-_ ■■-■:'• 1 t\: cliff. "One more mouth. Iki: it i~> done."

He gulped down a quick lump in his throat at the mere thought of quitting. He had given no heed of the future. The fierce contest had blotted out all the previous years. He lived only in the present. In the short jvar he liacl come up from a mere waster to a commander of mou. He had led Lis_ forces desperately against the foe —Nature. His heart had quickened at the first pick-blow; the first blast; tearing apart the grim cliffs had been a glorious of music to his oars. His geiitmis-iiip was winning, "I am going to Vviii," ho said a year ago. 'I have v.-;.-.," he said to-day, and no one laughed. "They said it couldn't be done," he went on, j0y0;..,;y, clenching his suntanned fists. "And novv I've won! I've won!"

Abruptly, as if in challenge, came the faint, lingering wail of a train whistle. Instinctively his eyes sought the deep crevice through which crawled and' twisted the rails. But the shadows repulsed him, and he turned to pick his way slowly back down the slope—a lean, wiry, khaki-clad figure. The train was already at the platform when he arrived. This snort spur from the main line, five miles above-, and which ended hluat against the dam, was destined to bring into his world more than mere food and building necessities. At the end of a long string of fiatears was a passenger coach. He caught the first glimpse of it as he rounded the final turn in the trail. Although expecting it, his heart leaped and his blood seemed to burn in his veins. He had both longed and feared this hour. He pushed his way across the crowded landing and on prist the string of flat-cars. Approaching the lighted coach he paused abruptly as a man descended from the brass-railed platform. Under the ghostly white light of the swinging arcs they faced cuo another, the well-grooir.ed roan from the conch: the trim, khaki-clad engineer. "By heavens, Drake," the other spokc~ up sharply, "I didn't recognise you at first. A year's a long time anyway. How's everything ?" With throbbing pulses Drake took the outstretched hand and pressed the soft fingers. "I'm only needing another month,'' he spoke up, a tremor of pride in his j words. "Then it's done."

"Drake, you're a wonder!" the other exclaimed. "The idea of a fellow like you completing a job ths experts baulked on."

"I —I just had to win," the engineer answered, and smiled. . _ The other looked curiously into his face.

"I guess that's right," he admitted, in- q-jite a different voice. "There was something at stake, wasn't there!" They walked through the swarming men. Under the swaying arcs their figures loomed grotesquely. Drake looked far off towards the sputtering fires; towards the giant wall. . "And —Blake," he began', not quite sure of his words. "I suppose—she's here." "Yes. She ccrae." .

"I —I wanted to clean up a bit," the engineer went en, softly. "I didn't want her to scs ire—this way. We will go back and sco her —after supper." Blake's hand stole quietly to the engineer's sturdy shoulder. "Perhaps it would he better—to-mor-row," he argued. "If you think—for the best," Drake Bit at his trembling lip. "If you think so—l'll wait."

'1 think it for the best;. Drake."

.Sometliing arose stormily within the I engineer's throat. His mind leaped j back to the beginning of the year—-to j New York. He remembered the stinging words that came between him —and one other. And the one other was slim and straight, and so very, very pretty. He had shut the door between them—never to come back until he had done something worthy. They would never again call him a" waster —a money-bur-dened waster. 'Come on up'to the shanty, Blake, he began abruptly, glad that in the shadows his tears were unnoticed. "I suppose the boy has supper ready. Up there —we can talk." , They found the little, white-spreao. table awaiting their arrival; and a smiling, silent Chinese boy served them. "Rather different from New York, isn't it, Drake," the other ventured, after they had finished and were out on the open porch. "Do you ever get tired? Ever get lonesome?" Drake looked steadily into the darkness —down to where the' single coach lay—.where the one thing in all the world was shut from his hungry eyes."Sometimes," he answered, sweeping a quick hand across his eyes. "Some- : times, v. hen I get to thinking real hard. ! Then I'm lonesome.' ! ■■ Blake Shewed silently upou his cigar. I Without warning the huge searchlight i b'-oke vividly into life, picking out the- > buildings and the network of tracks and 1 the horde of working men far below lat the foot of the massive wall. The : lijrht seemed a signal. Men shouted; i donkev engines snorted and coughed, j shunting the ears about like so many ! animated toys. Huge blocks of stone 'seemed to rise mysteriously.into the air | —to find a resting-place in the everi growing man-made mountain.

The tinkle of a telephone bell, so utterly foreign to the surroundings, cameabruotlv to Drake's alert ears. With an apology to the other,- the engineer turned and entered the room. Five minutes later he came out, his face very grave jind yer-y determined. " "Sorry, Blake," lie began, "out I ve got to leave you. Smith telephones in that there's trouble brewing up tlie. canon. He's my watchman. I'll have to take a hand-car and go up." "If there's room for two —I'll go with you." Blake put ill. . ''There might be trouble,'' Drake hesitated. "This isn't the first call I've had from that section." "I'll assume all risk, Drake," the other wont on, eagerly. "And besides I'm stale for excitement. Will it be anv trouble?" ""Of course not." Drake was changing his shoes for leggings which he sin.peed as he talked, "But we've got to hurry.'! " ■.■,■-..

Ten minutes later tliey were running down the trail. Quite a distance beyond the string of cars Drake paused before a shed. This he unlocked, and with the other's assistance lifted a light hand-ear to tlje rails. Speeding up the dim canon the engineer managed to explain matters concerning the trouble above. lb appeared that the Utah and Southern Eailway Company was antagonistic to the completion of the new irrigation dam. They wanted th;: canon for a new and shorter route to •fer.lt Lake, when Drake and his men ca:r.e *n and took possession. Formerly a swift mountain stream had course;! down this canon: but the young_ engineer ijad cunning!" overcome tins disadvantage by erecting a temporary dam five miles above, and turning the water down another <',ulch. This temporary structure was to be blown up upon the final corny!•. tion of the work below. Smith ••'""s in charge of this upper .-.!■;:>.;, :v. i it wag from him that Drake h:v:i '••-.'-. i-.'•.-i the- telephone message. It •.'.::.'; i'iC first time such a thing had !■ ■!;./..:•:!, Twice before he had fought ;-.:i night to. curb the angry water from ■iaking its former course; and once he ;:.l seen five of his men go sprawling h:.!:>lessly into the current —never to b-_ seen again. The car and the two passengers reached the clam, and after blocking the wheels, iO.vke in the lead, they hurried down the slope toward the cabin. The engineer's heart quickened as they rr.;-;roach~"i. At the closed door he paused, Lrorkou, and gaining no response stepped inside. V :iV;--!, '•'; v.-j.-, pitch dark. And after irn.'. ; -!;! :•_ ;:.'.::.:c:iL he struck a match. The I'.r.y. yellow flame disclosed every:':i;;g. Smith, a red-edged hole be-•■■.■•..-n his shoulders, was lying across th-;- table. "With a groan Drake found a candle, touched the match to it and wilt forward. But the watchman was oeyond all aid.

An abrupt exclamation from Blake who had followed close behind, caused the engineer to turn. The man was pointing to a bit of paper that was distinct under the murdered one's stiff fingers. With trembling, cold hands, Drake picked it up. A few badly scrawled words straggled over the shout. The engineer read them aloud: Am shot —Could not help —they have powder and are going—to destroy—

Here the line ended in a blot, when, it war. evident, the dying man had fallen forward. The paper fell from Drake's limp fingers and he reeled d. •;-,!■!kenly against the wall. :-'j.i ! :: come, Blake," he groaned. "It's e.y.jie, They've foxight with me til these :':(:;!fchs. Now —now they're going to ur-c- p'-.-svder." "!>-:; T cloij't see," the other began. "Hoiv— ?" "Haw?" The engineer's voice tremhlid. "j'ii.y're going to blow up the dam. They're going to send all the wat.-r down against my: structure. It wo:. ! i rtihd it. The cement hasn't had ti;:v.; i.-; ./.t. And there's the men —all of ■ i .-hr-:i\. The water will come without '.--"•.ii'v-. God! God! The cowards!" •':;■:'. we ;-:-v vet be in time —if we ii'iiv ■,•"■' Blake k:'.::Tupted. "We'll get back and warn them."' IJ-vske turned almost in a rage.

"BackJ Go back P" he cried. "Leave them to do this work? I won't! I can't! That dam is my life. I dreamed of it. I built it. I built it—and the others said'l couldn't do it. I've given it a year of my life. I've suffered and slaved and prayed. And now you want me to go back! You -want me to go back and watch it crumble." Blake reached out gripped him by the arm.

"You're forgetting—her, Drake," he warned. "The--ear will go with, the rest."

The engineer. wrenched himself free. "I .enn't help-it. I can't. She'll hate rae if I turn coward —now. I've got to save the" dam."

'•'lmpossible," Blake argued. "What can you do against a dozen men? We've got to get back before it's too late." "What can I do?" Drake fixing back hoarsely. "Yon said I couldn't build the dam—bxvt I did. You -ay I can't save it—hut I'm going to do it. I don't want to live if it goes." - ""But the woman, Drake!" "Don't make me a coward. I've got to do my duty!" 5

"They'll both drown," Blake retorted. "They'll br. J h—"

• Drsks' lurched at-: ~ the space and clutched the speaker 1; the throat. His voice was "hardly rec:.■'nisable. did you say? What was that? You said—said they—they—" "I thought .you knew," the other ':< ied to quiet him. "I thoxight she had

••.r-ritten —" "Nothing! I've heard nothi/sg. 0 iok, before I choke you, Blake. V: hat are you keeping from me?" •"W'hy—the baby came, three month' after you'd gone. They are both h the ■—•v. .You've got'to- —" "" lith —thei*e in the car!" Drake', voice -rose in a scream. "Edith, there in th "ar — ; and the. baby——my He fell to sobbing, clinging pit.fully to the other. "Why didn't you tell me before? Why. didn't you? 1 wouldn't have left them —" "Never mind. We'll yet be in time. You've got to save them. Hurry, man. For God's sake! "brace up!" Together they sprang out the door, lecving the watchman and the yellow candle behind. Like men possessed they skimmed along the trail. And then, abruptly,.as they topped the final rise, both paused, breathing heavily.

The car was gone! The twin lengths, of steel stretched vacantly uno tn« j shadows. '• • _ . Drake fell back, clenching lnr. lianas into hard,- swelling fists. Somcliow or other, in the face of this new calamity, he was strangely calm and codected. He turned. "It's no use, Blake." he struggled. "We can't make it oa foot. We ve got to stay and light it out—-hare." Blake buttoned up his coat, "iou stav, Drake. I'll try to make it. Everything can't be hct." Without another word, and with but a short, silent pressure of the hand, Blake slipped away down the track. Dumbly the engineer watched until th? shadows swallowed the runner. After that he lifted his tanned face to the stars and prayed. Nov.-, for the first time ho began to feel a sudden weariness grip at his limbs. But setting his lips grimly he turned and stumbled down the trail toward the distant embankment. This temporary dam erected with logs and loose rock, was barely fifty feet across, a good thirty high, and at the top plenty wide enough for a man to walk over, from bank to bank,-- ■ Reaching this embankment he became aware of voices; his heart quickened. He pressed himself into the shadows, clinging to the rocks. • The voices came nearer and nearer. A bit of gravel turned beneath his weight and he slipped noisily into the trail. Before lie fell something struck him brutally behind tlie ear. Someone swore. Vague forms of many men passed around him. A big man, masked to the eyes, bent over and kicked hun. lie steeled himself against an outcry. The fellow laughed hoarsely,, eouiSeniptuously. "The engineerin' chap himself," he muttered; then he wki.lad, joining his comrades.

A long, whispered counsel drew the party together; and in t-lie shadow brake cautiously yentnv&d to open his eyes, He "saw ' a'man suddenly dartout across the dam. Midway he •••nwoil. knelt and struck a light. After that he came back, joined the group on the bank, and as 'if at some signal all hurried up the trail. It seemed en age to Brake before •their footfalls' died away. But once sure of it he drew himself to an elbow and swept a quick glance across the dam. A choking cry forced itself to his lips. There, sputtering midway of the structure, burned a fuse. A cold sweat broke out upon his body. With a supreme effort he struggled prect, groping his way down toward Itlie"ledge. Ha realised, irtstiiiclive'ly, that when that bit of red burned its : way down of sight the dam would he no more. At whatever iisk he must prevent it. Abruptly he stumbled, clutching wildly at a projecting log, After- that he became more cautious and crawled forward ou hands and knees. Yard after yard he gained toward that glownig, pulsating death-spark. His head throbbed horribly. A straggling desire to rink down upon the wet logs and rest was swept from his mind by the vivid recollection of Edith —and the other whom he had ncyer- seen—

Now he '.vas upon that bit of heaped rocks iiis brain swam so that lie could not locate the fusf>; but with eager, trembling fingers he dug furiously for the buried sticks of powder. His. fingers .tore and bled, " Somewhere icar the fii&e sputtered. Faster, and faster he woiked. Then he cp.rno upon the death-thing, wrapped secure with wire. He had no strength left to cry out; but holding the stuff against his breast he threw himself bodily forward, plunging headlong into the cold, whirling water.

The shock of the plunge revived him like a swallow of brandy. He let the sticks of powder slip through his fingers and struck out with his arms. Almost instantly he was to the surface, an i once there easily swam toward the dam. Here, with the aid of the projecting logs he drew himself up, swept the water from his eyes and then sank gratefully among the rook and debris.

The next thing clear to his throbbing brain was the shrill echoing whistle of the donkey engine. The clear, cool, dawn was about him, coloring the highest peaks, lifting the blue mists from off the river.

Then came the run of many feet down the trail, and rounding the last point of rock came Blake. Behind him was another: a slim, straight woman. After them came the crowd of workers.

But Drake did not care to see any more; and besides, a hot mist blinded his eyes. He only struggled erect, stretched cut his glad arms and waited.