“You will bear in mind that I have studied this problem all my life,” Peter added urgently. “I’ve been spending a good deal of money on it. I have laid my plans very carefully, so as to risk neither lives nor money. The people below us will be safe, if you let me go ahead. In spite of the high water the Cramer Dam will hold—if you let me go ahead and finish the job.”
The engineer shut his technical eyes and listened to his common reason. The Governor was still glancing his way between steps, wanting his opinion.
“There’s a good deal in that,” the engineer said at last. “I should advise that under the circumstances we permit Mr. Cramer to go ahead and make his dam as safe as possible. It will not render the present danger any greater. The longer the Cramer Dam holds, the better chance we will have of averting disaster. Give me a little time, and I can, I think, promise to get the river under control without any disastrous flood condition arising.”
Peter’s eyes darkened at the inference, but he had won at least one point. That, he reflected, was more than might have happened. These were truly great men; they were greater than their training of keeping well within the red-tape fences.
“Very well, Mr. Cramer,” the Governor said. “I appoint you to take charge of the safeguarding of the river against a flood. I cannot promise immediate funds, however,—”
Peter dismissed that point with a gesture.
“I expected to finance the Cramer Dam from start to finish,” he said bluntly. “I still expect to do that. All I ask is to be left alone.”
They had reached the flat rock, on the river bank opposite the shacks. Peter sent a glance that way, saw that the shacks were standing, apparently unharmed, and dismissed from his mind the thought of danger to his family. With the engineer beside him, the Governor and others behind him, he kept straight on to the dam site. He was wondering if that maniac, Old Jess, had thought to remove the big launch to a safe point around the bend above. If not, they might not be able to cross the river, should they want to do so. There were a few ticklish little points in the situation, he was bound to admit.
Rawley let go his arm and turned away toward the camp, and Peter called after him.
“Have Gladys and Nevada cook a big breakfast, son. We’ll be back in an hour or so. And look out for another blast. But it will be a lot farther off than this one was. Have plenty of hot coffee.”