Jerry Newton overheard that last observation and stepped faster until he was just behind them.
“Did you ever see a flood, Mr. Cramer? I covered Pueblo and several other places; was down South, that last big one. Families down below here are getting out,—and believe me, they are making it snappy! I’ll bet you couldn’t find a breakfast cooked in its own kitchen, down below here, to save your life! They know what a flood means, and this is going to be like the crack o’ doom when it comes. Sudden, what I mean. They’ve been tickling the gas levers, believe me, since that blast went off.”
Peter turned and looked at him, frowning.
“What makes you all take it for granted the dam won’t hold?” he queried resentfully. “It would, I’d stake my life on it almost, though it should have been shot in low water, or falling water. This high water is not going to last. It’s the run-off of a big general storm, and I believe the peak is past, anyway. You don’t realize the size of the Cramer Dam. And you seem to forget altogether the auxiliary dam that can be thrown in, any time it seems necessary.”
Jerry Newton saw the point, but he saw something else, and being a blunt young man by nature, he blurted a retort.
“If you’re so sure of its holding, Mr. Cramer, what are you so worried about?”
Peter’s eyes hardened.
“Lives, young fellow. Two of them dear to me.”
The A. P. man was silenced. He looked contritely at Peter’s back, but he could not think of anything to say.
“Look there!” The engineer, hurrying along in the lead, stopped and pointed. “That’s what I call enterprise. But it’s taking a chance I shouldn’t care about, myself.”