“Core gear. Stripped the wooden teeth out of it.”
“How?”
Nelson shrugged his shoulders, but Beam replied. “Just got started after dinner,” he said. “I was standin’ not ten feet from here when I seen that solid gear lift up into the air, it looked like two foot, and come down smash onto the wooden teeth. Twouldn’t be so bad if we had a spare set of teeth, but we hain’t.”
“Got to cut ’em out,” supplemented Nelson.
“How long does that mean?”
“If we work all night we ought to get to runnin’ by noon to-morrow—with luck.”
“Who’s to blame?” Jim demanded
“Who drove the nails in the logs?” John Beam replied, a trifle sullenly. “Nelson went over those gears last night. I seen him. He says there wa’n’t anythin’ wrong then.”
Jim set his teeth; the urge to action came over him that had earned him the name of Sudden Jim. He recognized it, expected himself to do something decisive—and was surprised that he did not. Instead he found himself reflecting coolly, choosing the better from the worse course of action.
“It can’t be helped now, boys,” he said. “Speed up and get her going again—and keep quiet about it.”